Ichigo gave Chad one last pat and stood up. There wasn't much he could do anyway except let him grieve. He stood guard as Shin and Fūra were lifted clear of the rubble and carried over to Hachi, who had a row of injured lined up on the ground in front of him. Shin had been wrong about the tourniquet. It was still around Fūra's arm, wrapped round the ragged splintered stump the hollow's teeth had left behind.

Ironic. He'd have lost the same limb if he'd stayed at the 10th, but the injury would have been cleaner and easier to heal.

Only one other body was dragged out, from the far side of the wreckage and someone Ichigo didn't recognise, but that seemed to account for everyone. At least, Iba-neesan let the kidō drop, so Ichigo guessed no one else was still trapped.

After the lifting work was done, Iba-neesan had moved away towards edge of the arena, and was now speaking intently to Tetsuzaemon. As Ichigo looked over at them, wondering what came next, she glanced up, and their eyes met, clashed, and held for several seconds before sliding apart, leaving Ichigo feeling the weight of the woman's cool consideration in their wake.

A moment or two later, after a final brisk exchange of words, Iba dismissed her son and started towards Ichigo, who pulled himself together and set off to meet her. It was time to face the music.

The only question was, what was this going to cost him. Because however much Ichigo wanted it not to be true, Iba-neesan had to have seen him manifest. She might even have seen him try and take a chunk out of Chad… Which, crap, his control over this stupid Quincy power was getting worse all the time, especially when he'd used up a lot of reiatsu. And that fight might have been quick but it had been a killer. He was going to need more than one decent meal and a night's sleep to build his reserves back up.

He wasn't the only one who'd overdone it either. When Iba-neesan stopped in front of him, she was pale and her hands were definitely shaking, so holding that kidō had stretched her. It was still impressive though. The first time they'd met, Ichigo'd suspected she could kick ass, and her performance tonight proved he wasn't wrong. She had to be third seat material at least, maybe even as strong as a lieutenant.

"How come you're not a shinigami?" Ichigo demanded, the words slipping out on tiredness and shock before he had a chance to stop them

Iba-neesan raised an eyebrow. "Because I have a business to run and no interest in being told what to do by a tin-pot general," she replied. "Is this going to be a problem?"

Problem? Why would it be a problem?

Ichigo was about to ask, when he realised exactly what she meant, and what she'd been getting at earlier when she'd told Ichigo that he wasn't seeing what he was seeing. She'd done kidō. And not the half-assed stuff that civilians sometimes managed to pull off by accident. That bakudō had been high level and well-practised, and theoretically impossible for anyone outside the Gotei or selected bodyguards. It was also highly illegal.

Which meant Iba-neesan might have something on him, but he had something on her too. Maybe this wasn't going to be as one-sided as Ichigo had feared. "It won't be, so long as you forget what you saw too," he said, too fed up with the whole situation to be subtle.

Iba-neesan harrumphed. "You mean that thing with the zanpakutō and the uniform? Never saw a thing," she said. "Neat trick though. Not common amongst shinigami from what I've heard, so I'm guessing it's all down your unique heritage."

Was there nothing she didn't know about? That was two things she could use against him, and Ichigo only had the kidō. Though - he looked around at the wrecked arena - maybe not. "That hollow," he said casually, "The adjucha. You don't catch something like that out in Rukongai. Where'd you get it?"

The expression on Iba-neesan's face darkened. "From 'never you mind,'" she said, "The one who did it'll get what's coming to them."

"I bet they will," Ichigo shot back, "But there's still going to be rumours." No way was she wriggling out of this. There was too much riding on it.

She shrugged, apparently not bothered. "My boys won't say anything."

Ichigo didn't believe the casual attitude for a second. And anyway, "What about the crowd? A lot of people saw that first cero. Without me on your side, you've got a lot of witnesses against you. You can't silence all of them." Could she? Going by the way grey eyes hardened, she might just try.

For a moment, Ichigo thought Iba-nessan might call his bluff, then she huffed, "Fine, we'll call it quits. Neither of us saw anything and neither of us knows anything. Good enough?"

Almost, but not quite. There was one more thing Ichigo needed. "Chad's mine."

Iba-neesan's stance tightened. "There's still some bouts left in him, so why would I do a damn fool thing like let him go?"

"Because you owe me," Ichigo said, throwing down his best card. He'd pay cash if he had to, however much she asked, up to and including all the blood money from Byakuya's currency note, but he'd try this first. "Last time I was down here, you said I could call on the family for one more favour. For saving your nephew." He felt shitty bringing Fūra up now, but this was Chad and he'd pull anything to free him. "Call it one slave's life for another."

Iba-neesan's gaze flicked over to where Chad was still clutching Jackie's body before returning to Ichigo. Her eyes narrowed, before one side of her mouth quirked up. "You drive a good bargain. It's a deal - on one condition." Before Ichigo could ask what, she jerked her thumb at Chad and added, "I want him kept quiet."

Ichigo frowned. "About what?"

"This. Tonight." Iba-neesan's chin jutted forwards as she spoke. "Look, the way it stands, all the money in Seireitei's not going to fix the reputation this place has just got. But an explanation might. Not many folks have seen this cero thing, but a lot of them know kidō. If we tell them the fighters tried using kidō against the hollow and screwed up, that'll cover all our asses."

That sounded do-able, except… "Woah, hang on. I don't want Chad ending up in trouble for using kidō."

"He won't be. On paper, he'll be dead."

Dead? How the hell would that even work? Wasn't Chad kind of famous or something?

Apparently his expression must have told Iba-neesan what he was thinking. She gestured to the arena. "The Twins, Chad and Jackie, always wear masks when they fight. The worst that'll happen is that someone will recognise him from the izakaya and frankly," she coughed a laugh, "given your reputation, no one's going to bat an eyelash if you come home with some handsome hunk in tow, you know."

Heat rushed to Ichigo's cheeks. "It's not like that. He's not… Chad's a friend!"

Iba-neesan's smirk said she'd totally known that all along. Not that it stopped her poking him in the arm with a sharp finger and saying, "Sure he is, orange-boy, you keep saying that and one day someone might believe you. In the meantime, what do you say? We got a deal?"

Shrugging off the teasing as best he could, Ichigo gave the plan some serious thought. If it was just his own reputation, Chad'd probably go for it straight away. But it wasn't. It would mean blaming Jackie.

Ichigo glanced over at the hunched figure, his stomach hitting his boots at the sight of his best friend's shoulders shaking as he held Jackie close. She must have meant a hell of a lot to him. Would he be willing to let her take the fall? There was only one way to find out. "I'll can ask, I guess?"

"You do that," Iba-neesan said, "And tell him, whatever happens, the Twins are dead as of tonight. So if he refuses to go along with the plan, he'll stay with me and fight alone. And lone fighters last even less time than teams, he knows that. Alternatively, he can go with you, his contract with me'll be over and done. All he has to do is keep quiet."

Since Ichigo didn't plan on hassling Chad while he was still this upset, he checked on Shin first. The ex-10ther was sitting propped against the arena edge, eyes closed and head tipped back. His neat queue was gone and his mousy hair straggled loose around his face again. His bad leg, stuck straight out in front of him, was strapped with bandage from ankle to mid thigh, and he clutched a water bottle tightly in one fist.

Ichigo hunkered down beside him and said, "How're you doing?"

"Like a hollow shit a steel bar on me," Shin replied groggily, before jerking upright, eyes flying open and totally panic stricken. "Crap, Shiba-sama, I never - I didn't- Please don't tell Koji-san I spoke to you like that. He'll do his nut."

Ichigo grinned and gestured at him to calm down. "I won't. Promise. But we need to get back soon. Think you can walk?"

"I… guess," Shin said, starting to struggle to his feet. Rising himself, Ichigo offered him a hand, and didn't miss the flinch as Shin put some weight on his damaged leg. But Shin didn't let that stop him. He slapped gently at his thigh and, grinning lopsidedly, said, "I mean, it ain't nothing bad, just a bit squished, ya know."

As he glanced up, his gaze snagged on something behind Ichigo and his expression grew kind of distant. He was looking at Chad and Jackie, Ichigo realised.

"She saved my life," he said quietly a moment later.

Not sure what Shin was aiming at, Ichigo nodded and offered a quiet, "Ah."

Apparently it wasn't enough. Shin shook his head, "What'd she go and do that for? I mean, I never even knew her, and now she's dead instead of me."

"I guess she thought you were worth protecting," Ichigo suggested, at a bit of a loss how to explain throwing yourself between certain death and a stranger to someone who didn't get it. He knew he'd do exactly the same thing himself, though he had no idea why.

Shin snorted, "Yeah, maybe she thought I was important or something. That'd make sense."

And kind of missed the whole point of Jackie's selfless sacrifice. Which brought him right back to having to explain Iba-neesan's plan to Chad. This was going to suck so hard.

Ichigo sighed, clapped Shin on the shoulder and said, "I need to round up Chad, he's coming back with us. Be ready to head out, okay?"

The determined, "Yes, sir," that followed him across the arena was cold comfort in the face of what he had to do next.

"So, short version says, Iba-neesan'll let you walk free, so long as this fuck-up gets blamed on Jackie."

Ichigo held his breath; the fact that Chad hadn't said no straight away was a good sign. He might be a guy of few words but he wasn't scared of using them if he disliked a plan.

Chad frowned, intense dark eyes dropping briefly from Ichigo to the woman he was still holding and then back up. "Okay," he said.

"Just like that?" Ichigo blurted. Sure he'd wanted Chad to say yes, but he'd been expecting to have to fight for it. After all, this was Jackie's reputation they were talking about. "If this happens, everyone's going to remember her as a criminal who killed and hurt people."

Chad lifted one shoulder. "Doesn't matter. It won't be Jackie getting the blame, not really. Just the Twins, and that wasn't her. Just a mask she put on."

That… made a surprising amount of sense actually. Casting a quick look round the arena, at Shin standing waiting for them, and Iba-neesan organising her gangs of workers, Ichigo said, "Okay. I'll go pass on the good news and then we can head back to the 6th-"

"All of us." Chad adjusted his hold on the body and began to stand, shrugging off Ichigo's attempts to help. It took him two attempts to get his feet under him, and even when he was up, he swayed on the spot. That Hachi guy might have healed him up some, but he still wasn't right. Not that it stopped him from fixing Ichigo with a flat look and saying, "Jackie comes too."

Damn. Shooting a quick glance over at Iba-neesan, who'd noticed and had started heading towards them, Ichigo said, "I get that you want to bury her, but seriously, I don't think that's gonna fly-"

"They'll sell her for parts," Chad said, and fuck, Ichigo hadn't even considered that as a possibility.

Memories of some of the things he'd seen in the 12th flashed through his mind and, as Iba-neesan arrived, expression thunderous, Ichigo turned to face her, shoulders straightening. "He agrees, but the body comes with us," he said.

Iba-neesan did a double take, before turning to Chad and looking him up and down. He stared silently back at her, Jackie cradled in his arms, his expressionless face pale, and Ichigo was struck yet again by the way physical size meant nothing in Soul Society. Chad might be over a foot taller than the woman confronting him, but all the power lay in her hands. And even ignoring her personal strength, here in this place, her word was law. Even Ichigo's rank meant little in this part of the Pits.

"You'll keep silent, no matter what gets said?" Iba-neesan asked.

Chad inclined his head, the only answer he seemed willing to give. But apparently it was enough for Iba-neesan. With a brisk nod, she turned to Ichigo and held out her hand, palm down. "Then it's done. With this, all debts are paid. A life for a life."

"Agreed," Ichigo replied and, unsure if he was supposed to shake on it or something, kind of waved at her.

Iba-neesan smirked, grabbed his wrist and smacked their palms together. "Sealed."

So that was how it went. "Sealed," Ichigo repeated, "And thanks." He shot a quick glance over at Chad. "For letting me have my friend back." Because the truth of it was, for all that Iba-neesan was the head of a criminal empire that kept slave gladiators, she wasn't a bad person. Most of the people Ichigo had run into in Seireitei, once they knew how important Chad was to him, would have tried to use the information to bleed Ichigo dry. Iba-neesan hadn't. Sure, she'd driven a hard bargain, but it was a fair one, and so she deserved his thanks.

The words seemed to throw Iba-neesan right off her stride though. For a brief moment she frowned at him, before that brilliant smile opened her expression right up and made her human again. Reaching up, she ruffled Ichigo's hair. "Ah, you're strange one, orange-boy, but I wish you good of it. Now, go on. Get the hell home before your big friend falls over." And with that, she strode away, already shouting orders to her boys.

Watching her go, Ichigo waved Shin over and then turned to Chad. And was only just fast enough to catch him as he slumped sideways.

"Fuck," he grunted as Chad's full weight, and Jackie's since Chad still hung onto her body, landed on his shoulder. A second later something else hit him in the back and a breathless voice said, "On two, we'll push him upright."

It was Shin. Of course. Ichigo gritted his teeth, dug into his dwindling supplies of reiatsu to bolster his muscles and said, "Take Jackie. I've got Chad."

At a guess, Shin felt the surge of power. He leapt away like a startled rabbit, before darting back in and trying to grab the body. But, even half-unconscious, Chad had other ideas. His arms tightened instinctively around his friend.

Ichigo huffed in irritation, "I get it, okay. But I'm not carrying both of you. Plus you don't look like you're up for shunpo, so you're gonna have to let Shin take her. He's not gonna let anything happen. Trust me."

For a second Ichigo thought he'd said the wrong thing and then Chad let out a gentle sigh and relaxed completely, letting Jackie slip into Shin's waiting arms and his full weight come to rest on Ichigo.

Iba-neesan was right. They needed to get home, asap.

Chad came round when they were halfway back to the 6th, which sped the trip up some, but did mean that, by the time they arrived, Shin was limping badly, and Chad needed all Ichigo's support to stay upright.

"Oi! Open up!" Ichigo called as he dropped out of his final exhausted step of shunpo right outside the main gates. That was it. He was done in. No more moving for him until he'd got some food and slept for about four hours.

The corner beside the gate looked like the perfect spot to sit while they waited for the medic to arrive. Out of the wind anyway, and so maybe a bit warmer. Shin seemed to have the same idea. He was already lowering Jackie's body respectfully to the ground as Ichigo stumbled over and helped Chad slide down the wall until he was sat leaning against it.

Now they'd stopped moving, Chad had begun shivering badly. Ichigo tugged at his kosode ties with tired fingers, and eventually managed to peel the garment off. It was stiff with dried blood but it beat nothing, and what was left of Chad's fighting gear hardly covered enough to be decent, let alone warm. Chad hardly seemed to notice as Ichigo settled the kosode around his shoulders. His fingers were now firmly tangled with Jackie's, as though he planned never to let go.

Behind them, the inspection hatch on the gate suddenly slammed open and a menacing voice growled, "No access before sun-up, so be on your way."

Before Ichigo could say a word, Shin hobbled forwards, snapping, "That's no way to speak to yer captain, moron. Now open the freakin' gate."

"Captain?" The guard let out a mean laugh, "Hah! Nice one, but I know you, Shin Jirō. I know what you did back at the 10th and what kind of guy you are, so don't think you can start throwing your weight around just because our captain's a soft touch, got it? He's not here right now, he's tucked up in bed, like he's supposed to be, and if you don't shove off, I'll come out there give you the hiding you deserve."

As the guard ranted, Shin's face drained of the little colour it had left, but he held his ground. Ichigo stayed quiet, ready to jump in but curious as to what else might get said. No one ever spoke this candidly when they knew he was there.

"Just open the gates before you make a complete fool of yerself," Shin shouted back.

A quieter voice spoke somewhere inside, and the gates began to open. Hashigami, the big fourth seat appeared in the gap, one hand on his zanpakutō, the other holding up a kidō light.

His gaze went unerringly to Ichigo and no more than a split second later, he bowed respectfully. "Good evening, taichō-san."

Ichigo stepped out of the shadows, hearing a squeaked, "Oh shit!" from the other side of the gates as the kidō lit up his face. Good. If that was the way the rank and file was treating Shin when Ichigo wasn't around, people deserved to be worried.

"Evening, Hashigami. Round up a couple of stretchers, will you, and dig Takata out. Tell her we've got suspected internal injuries, and maybe a broken leg."

"You, sir?" Hashigami asked, the worry in his quiet voice almost imperceptible.

"I'm good, just tired," Ichigo replied. "It's these two." He gestured to Chad, and Shin who'd limped back over to the corner to join him.

"And the other-? Oh."

Ichigo glanced back at Jackie. They hadn't been able to cover her before setting out, but now Shin had stripped off his coat and was laying it across her face. Watching it happen, Chad looked about ready to burst into tears again. "Yeah, we're gonna need somewhere to keep her until the funeral-"

"Shiba-sama!" Koji appeared at the gate looking frantic with worry. "Thank all the gods you're back in one piece. I heard there was a terrible accident down at the…" His words trailed off into a stricken expression as he saw the state of them. "Please tell me you're not injured," he finished in a small voice.

"I'm fine," Ichigo reassured him, as they were all interrupted by the arrival of several medics bearing stretchers. Ichigo caught Koji's arm and guided him out of the way as they started work on Shin and Chad. "Listen, I need you to organise a funeral. For a friend of the family, so make it nice, okay? I dunno how people do it here, but something a bit special."

"A funeral. Y-yes, Shiba-sama, of course. May I ask, for whom?"

Jackie's full name. They'd need it for the gravestone. Ichigo turned to Chad. "Did she have a family name?" he asked.

Chad raised his head, frowning as thoughts slowly crossed his face. The medic treating him backed off for a second and settled on his heels. After a moment, Chad shook his head. "If she did, she never told me."

That might be best anyway. It was just possible someone might have recognised it and made a connection to the Twins, but if Chad hadn't remembered anything about his past life before now, then with luck no one here at all knew his name.

Ichigo turned back to Koji. "Use Sado Jackie. It's not her name, but it's one she respected."

Koji bowed and began backing away, which was when when Ichigo realised that the roofs of the surrounding buildings were becoming visible against a lightening sky. "Shit, it's morning already?"

"Yes, my lord. The five o'clock call has already sounded."

Which meant Ichigo had a meeting in less than an hour. With lawyers, no less.

"Fuck." With a sinking heart, Ichigo scrubbed his hands through his hair, thought longingly of his lost night's sleep, and delegated. "Stay with them, will you, Koji? Until the medics know what's up and then come tell me. I need to go-" Eat, as much as he could cram in. And change, probably. Ichigo looked down at himself, at his filth and the blood covered shihakushō, and heaved a silent sigh. "I need to go take a bath."

"Look over here, please?" the medic said.

Were they talking to him? With difficulty, Yasutora dragged his attention away from Jackie. A bright light flashed in his eyes. "You mentioned loss of memory. Did you receive a blow to the head at all?"

"Not since- " But no, he wasn't allowed to speak about Hachi or fighting in the Pits. So, "No." He didn't think there was anything seriously wrong with him, except tiredness. And hunger. For the first time in ages, his belly felt profoundly empty.

Food? He was thinking about food when she was dead? He was scum. It should've been him who died, not her. Never her.

"Good, then let's get you to the infirmary so we can do a proper check."

A small hand appeared in his line of sight. Yasutora blinked at it. They wanted him to move.

His fingers tightened around Jackie's - cold, too cold.

"If you don't think you can make it, we could use a stretcher. Though I think I'll have to send for one of the extra long ones."

The hand was still there, but he couldn't work out how to reach for it. Even thinking about it felt like a trying to reach for the moon.

"I keep telling them they should restock. We're not all shrimps like them," a different, quieter voice said. And there was something about that voice, something capable, solid.

Yasutora raised his head. The man hunkered down in front of him was losing his hair.

When he saw he had Yasutora's attention, the guy dipped his head slightly and continued, "Hashigami Tou, fourth seat. You're a friend of Shiba-taichō?"

If Shiba-taichō was Ichigo, then he was, but was Yasutora allowed to say that? Unsure of the right answer, Yasutora simply sat there.

Hashigami's eyes cut towards Jackie. "She was your friend then?"

That he was allowed to answer, he thought, but when he followed Hashigami's gaze, there was Jackie's body and the words turned to dust in his mouth.

She was dead.

"You said he's okay?" Hashigami asked, but he wasn't speaking to Yasutora, so that didn't matter.

"It's difficult to say without a proper examination," the medic said, "but there's no obvious injuries." They were speaking over his head. Talking about him. That was okay. He'd didn't much feel like taking part in any conversations anyway.

"So long as it's okay to haul him around," Hashigami said. A moment later, hands slid beneath Yasutora's arms. "Come on, up you come. You can't sit there all day."

The lift did what the offered hand hadn't and forced Yasutora to move his body. The rest happened automatically, though they had a brief moment of crisis when they discovered his fingers had cramped and he couldn't let go of Jackie's hand. The medic helped him release them and then they were apart; Jackie being loaded onto a stretcher and Yasutora being turned and checked over again.

Yasutora let it happen, his gaze still following Jackie as far as he could. The medic prodded and probed before glancing up and saying, "You're a lucky guy. If there hadn't been a healer nearby when this happened, you'd be dead by now."

Except Hachi had said he hadn't been able to heal it. And Yasutora couldn't tell anyone that. He blinked at the medic instead.

"Straight to the infirmary then?" Hashigami asked and when the medic nodded, he added, "I'll tag along, just in case."

Wide-eyed, the medic replied, "Thank you, sir," before smiling up at Yasutora and saying slowly, "Come with me, please."

They thought he was stupid, or mad. Maybe that wasn't a bad thing. Little was asked of such people, so nobody would be surprised if Yasutora didn't answer their questions.

Silently, he followed Hashigami and the medic, keeping an eye out for the team that were carrying Jackie. When they split off to go in another direction, Yasutora's feet automatically went with her. He was stopped by a hand on the arm and Hashigami saying kindly, "She'll be fine. They're taking her to the morgue."

With a lingering backward glance, Yasutora let her go. He didn't really have a choice. Having decided to trust Ichigo, he kind of had to trust the people that Ichigo trusted. Even so, the increasing gap between them seemed to pull on his insides, like somehow he was still attached to her. He felt cut open and exposed, vulnerable in every direction. And desperately lonely.

You are not alone, not anymore, someone said, so clearly that it sounded like they were standing right behind him.

Startled, Yasutora swung round, fists up to defend against whoever'd got the drop on him. There was no one there. Only Hashigami and the medic, both now staring at him like he might flip out completely and start attacking people. Had it been them? No, the voice was completely different. Deep, rumbling, firm.

Yasutora forced his hands back to his sides, dipped his head in apology and stepped back into line. Hashigami dropped back to walk behind him and, oddly, despite making him feel like a prisoner, that actually helped. At least his back wasn't totally exposed.

The infirmary, when they arrived, was smaller and much busier than Yasutora had expected. It was only a single storey building, no bigger than the barracks he'd shared with Iba-neesan's other fighters, and every room they passed was full to bursting. People had even spilt out into the hallways, and were sleeping curled on bedrolls close to the walls.

When they finally stopped outside a room, they had to stand aside as a group of about six shinigami were hustled out, some with mats tucked under their arms, others being helped by medics. Past them, through the door, Yasutora could see two pallets being quickly made up with fresh bedding. For some reason, those others had been evicted to give him a room of his own.

"In here, please," the medic said, gesturing to an empty bed once the room was clear. "Takata-sensei will be along to see you as soon as she's free."

Yasutora went where he was pointed, too numb to do anything else. Behind him, the door slid closed, its wood and paper construction doing nothing to shut out the world but giving him an illusion of privacy at least. He stood for a moment, his thoughts leaping haphazardly from memory to memory to fresh painful grief. Normally at this time of the day they'd be with Hachi, having any injuries healed that might cause them long term problems. Or, if they were lucky enough to get through the fight with just cuts and bruises, they'd be sleeping on beds they'd pushed together for warmth and comfort.

But there was no 'they', not any more.

Except, with Ichigo back in his life, perhaps there could be.

Sinking slowly onto the bed, teeth digging into his lip to stop a pained grunt from leaking out, Yasutora tried to fit his new old memories back where they came from and found that, with everything that had happened to him since he lost them, it was almost impossible.

Ironically, the ones of Mexico and those from just before he died fit the best. They were all about blood and loss, anger and the pain of bruised fists. It was the ones in-between, of Karakura, school and Ichigo, that felt skewed. They seemed too normal, and the space that Ichigo had always had in his heart had been partially over-written by Jackie.

The thing was, although he trusted his old friend implicitly, Yasutora had no idea how he and Ichigo fit together anymore. He and Jackie had been simple. With his fists and her feet they made one whole fighter, one person. Their lives and relationship revolved around survival and the knowledge that one day they would die in the arena sands and no one would mourn them but each other.

With Ichigo, Yasutora had never fought for himself. The lynch-pin of their relationship had been mutuality; they each protected what was important to the other.

Now, Ichigo was a shinigami, a Gotei captain and, if Yasutora had understood the titles being bandied about, a noble. Yasutora was an ex-pit fighter with nothing to his name but scars and totally shot nerves. So what was between them now? Were they even still friends?

He laid back against the pillow, managed to get his hands comfortable on his chest, and tried to let this new world wash over him, hoping that somehow not fighting it would make it come easier. But, as his body stopped moving, his mind kind of stuttered to a halt along with it, and Yasutora found himself staring at the ceiling, mind blank and eyes wide open, stuck in a kind of waking sleep that he knew would do nothing to ease his bone-deep exhaustion.

What felt like hours but was probably no more than a few minutes later, he vaguely registered the sound of several sets of footsteps in the corridor and people talking outside the door. It sounded like two men and a woman, and to start with their voices were nothing but hushed whispers. But pretty soon they grew loud enough for Yasutora to hear most of what they were saying.

"So what's he brought back this time?" the woman was asking.

"No idea," one of the men replied. "I just hope it's not a treacherous rat like the last one. I can't believe he actually took the guy on, as a servant too. Taichō would never have done that."

The third speaker, male, rougher spoken and familiar sounding, chimed in, "Nah, he'd have had him thrown out so fast his feet wouldn't have touched the floor. Him and the others."

"And good riddance too, that's what I say," said first man.

"'Exactly. The 6th isn't a damned refugee camp." Now Yasutora recognised the voice. It was the gate guard who'd refused to let them in.

"I thought it was nice - " the woman began.

"You would," the gate guard retorted, then continued with a lecherous laugh, "Bet you'd fancy a bit of that for yourself, eh? Captain rescuing you from the sweaty masses."

"You're vile, Sue," the woman retorted. "At least Shiba-taichō cares about people."

"Oh yeah, he's a total bleeding heart."

"A bleeding heart that'll be bleeding out soon enough, if you ask me."

That was greeted by mumbled agreement from the others, then the woman said, "It's not fair. How can he defend us properly when he's only had shikai a few months. It's not like the new lieutenant's strong enough to make up for it."

"Eh, give the kid a chance."

"That's fine for you to say," the politer of the two men said. "When the barbarians invade, they'll probably cut your head off to get rid of the ugly." He raised his voice, continuing over the other's loud protests, "Kourai and I, on the other hand, aren't likely to get off so lightly."

The woman's titter was almost drowned out by the gate guard's snort of amusement. "Yeah, right. Don't worry, beautiful, I'll be your second if someone does a run on us."

"I don't know as I'd go that far. I mean, surely it'd make more sense to just throw our lot in with the newcomer, right?" An ominous sort of silence followed that suggestion, broken a few moments later by a loud sigh and the same guy saying, "I suppose there's no point making more worries. We've got enough dealing with these new rotas."

"Oh, do not get me started on those," the woman said indignantly, starting in on a rant about downtime and rotations that Yasutora couldn't follow.

He was halfway to zoning out completely when one of the guys snapped, "Heads-up. Grass incoming."

The sound of people scuffling into position outside the door was followed several long seconds later by halting footsteps and another familiar voice complaining, "I can walk on me own, you know. You don't gotta hold me up."

The door slid back and in hobbled Shin, one arm slung over the shoulders of the guy Yasutora vaguely remembered Ichigo talking to outside the big gates. He was dressed in black clothes with a mon printed on them in red and had his hair tied in a traditional queue. Some kind of servant, Yasutora guessed, trying to get his head around Ichigo being someone who had servants. He was probably really bad at it. Too independent and pig-headed.

"Shiba-sama told me, 'Koji, stay and help,' so stay and help I will," the guy - Koji presumably - said, helping Shin over to the other bed and lowering him down onto it. He flicked a quick glance at Yasutora, who was struggling up into a sitting position on his own bed, and added, "I'm to report back on both of you before starting arrangements for the young lady's funeral."

Shin's eyes followed, meeting Yasutora's for a second before flinching away. "Good," he mumbled into his chest, "She deserves somethin' nice."

"So you say, and yet you won't tell me why." This time when he looked over at Yasutora, Koji addressed him properly, "I suppose you're the same? Sworn to secrecy about her amazing deeds."

He was, but that didn't mean he couldn't say anything. "She saved his life," Yasutora said, nodding at Shin. It felt good to speak of her death in brave terms. Made it feel less of a waste. He settled back against the wall, feeling his muscles starting to loosen and lose some of their terrified tension.

"Saved his life? That's it? That's what earns her burial in the Shiba graveyard." Koji tutted disapprovingly. "Kuchiki-sama would never have allowed this to happen."

Kuchiki. Now there was a name Yasutora knew. They were one of the highest ranking families in Seireitei, but what did they have to do with Ichigo? Or more to the point, how had Ichigo got mixed up with them?

"And who's going to pay for it, that's what I want to know," Koji continued, dropping into a tired looking seiza beside Shin's bed. "The household purse is nearly empty, and though tradesman might keep supplying food and fabric on credit, this is going to require stonemasons. And priests! And priests always demand cash upfront."

He sighed, gaze dropping dejectedly to his hands that were resting in his lap. "Serving Kuchiki-sama was never this difficult."

Shin and Yasutora exchanged glances over his head. By the expression on Shin's face, this outburst was a new one on him too. Yasutora shrugged. He hadn't a clue. The guy was Shin's friend, not his.

"I guess you could try a money lender," Shin ventured cautiously. "They ain't fussy about who's borrowing, so long as you pay it back."

Koji's head shot up and Yasutora knew immediately that the suggestion had been a mistake. "A money lender?" Koji snarled, loud enough that Yasutora winced, remembering how easily he'd been able to overhear the conversation going on outside. "A noble can't have dealings with the likes of them! Think of the dishonour if word of it got out! The shame! No, completely impossible. I'd sell my own body on the streets before allowing Shiba-sama to sink to such depths."

This time the glance Yasutora and Shin exchanged was more amused disbelief. But Koji wasn't finished, though he continued in a much quieter voice. "Anyway, it's not like he doesn't have the money. Kuchiki-sama left the Shiba accounts in good order. I'm sure he couldn't have drained it all." He glanced at Yasutora, expression mildly disapproving. "Whatever foolishness he's chosen to spend it on."

"If he's got it, why not just ask him for some," Shin asked, posing the very question Yasutora had been pondering.

But Koji looked aghast at the idea. "I can't do that. How would it look? As though I couldn't manage his household, that's how. Oh, I'm such a failure. I don't know what Kuchiki-sama was thinking, leaving me to look after the young master. I can't even provide a bed for him. And he eats in the mess. The mess. I ask you, is that an appropriate place for the Shiba clan-head to take his meals."

The poor guy looked on the verge of tears, wringing his hands with his shoulders hunched up round his ears. Yasutora couldn't stand it. "You should ask him about the money," he said. "He'd be upset if he knew he was making things hard for you."

"And how would you know," Koji snapped peevishly. "You only met him this evening. Unless you're going to tell me you're some kind of long lost friend."

Rather than answer, Yasutora just inclined his head, but it was enough.

"You- you are?" Koji gasped, mouth hanging open in shock.

Shin squinted between the two of them. "Eh? How can that be, he was a- I mean, he worked at- " Apparently giving up on trying to explain why an ex-pit fighter couldn't be an old friend of Ichigo's without actually disclosing any secrets, Shin shook his head and asked Yasutora, "How come ya know him then?"

It was Koji who answered, though his eyes didn't shift from Yasutora's face as he spoke. "I assume from before. Since, had the young master made such a friend in the past year, his lordship would certainly have found out."

"What d'ya mean, 'from before'…" Shin's words tapered off, replaced by an expression of total shock. "Hang on. You ain't saying he's one of us?"

Koji shot a scathing look at him. "One of you. I was born this side of the wall, thank you. And no, not entirely. Although Shiba-sama was somewhat human, he was never subjected to the indignities of the camps. Such a thing would be inappropriate for one of his station."

"Fuck inappropriate, how can he be a noble and not a pure soul? I thought…" Shin had begun to look desperate. "That's what it all means, innit? All this shit about them and us. Them being better 'cause they ain't polluted from being born. And if it ain't true then - then how come he gets handed everything and - and the likes of me gets to grovel and still end up with nothing?"

Damn good question, and one Yasutora wouldn't mind seeing answered. But before he could open his mouth, Koji thwacked Shin round the back of the head and snapped, "Curb your ungrateful tongue, boy. Shiba-sama gave you a place when everyone else would have been happy to see you go to the 12th, so don't you start with rubbish like that."

"Not to mention it being treason," a woman's voice chimed in as the door opened. Behind her, Yasutora could see a gaggle of horrified looking shinigami gathered in the hallway. It looked like Yasutora had been right about their conversation attracting an audience.

"Takata-sensei," Koji said, leaping to his feet and bowing deeply as the woman entered, pointedly closing the door in the faces of those outside. "Please, he didn't mean any harm. He's just a stupid gaki with a big mouth."

Takata, a older woman with her salt and pepper hair done up in a twist on the back of her head, gave him a disapproving look before turning her attention to Shin. He'd thrown himself face first on the bed, his strapped leg stuck out at an awkward angle, and he seemed to be shaking.

The first glimmerings of unease started to unfold in Yasutora's belly. Despite everything, Iba-neesan had never stood on ceremony. Not with any of the fighters she owned. So long as you followed orders and were basically respectful, she didn't expect anyone to grovel. And not even the lowest of her people were forced to kowtow.

This was different. As Takata continued to stare at Shin, the aura of menace in the room increased until it reached almost unbearable levels. No, not just menace, reiatsu. She was using her reiatsu to press down on everyone. Koji had started sweating and his face was growing paler by the moment. But Yasutora could hardly feel it.

Of course not. You have me now.

Yasutora froze at the sound of the same deep, rumbling voice he'd heard in the courtyard. Since his back was pressed to the wall, it couldn't have come from behind him. Which meant it had to be inside his head. Was he going mad?

Not mad, stronger.

Strength? Now that was something Yasutora could get behind. Who are you? he asked tentatively.

He was met by silence, but not emptiness. Whatever - whoever it was, was still there. Waiting. For the right question, perhaps?

"Well, gaki? What do you have to say for yourself?" Takata said suddenly, jerking Yasutora out of his reverie. She'd moved closer to the bed and was now standing over the two servants. Even Koji was now on his knees.

Her reiatsu had risen again and taken on a sharp edge. Yasutora could sense it, pressed to the back of Shin's neck. The guy was squirming with terror and whimpering under his breath, and that was the final straw as far as Yasutora was concerned. This had gone way past respect and become bullying.

With a grunt of effort, he levered himself to his feet and took the couple of steps necessary to get close enough to Takata to stop her.

"Enough," he said as his hand closed around her forearm. He could have sucker-punched her, he supposed, but it was better to solve these things without violence if possible.

She was shinigami enough to do no more than twitch as he touched her, but her gaze when she glared up at him was icy. Yasutora met it without flinching, and kept his face expressionless as she upped the level of her reiatsu until it beat against his body. It hurt, like a thousand needles trying to pierce his skin. For a second, he felt himself starting to weaken, and then something inside him stirred and his own reiatsu rose to meet hers, settling as solid and unmoving as armour just above his skin.

Takata's eyes widened slightly, and Yasutora could see her reassessing him, moving him from victim to predator in her mind.

Would she challenge him? If she did, he didn't think he had much to use against her. Just doing this much was making him feel light-headed and faint.

A heartbeat later, her reiatsu vanished. She blinked, sniffed, and jerked her arm away from Yasutora, saying, "I will allow the words to pass this time, Shin Jirō. However if it happens again, I will be reporting you, even if you are Shiba-taichō's servant. Do you understand?"

"Y-yes, Takata-sensei," Shin stuttered, pressing his face deeper into the bedding.

"Good." She flipped open the file she was carrying and said, "You have a crush injury to your leg. How did you sustain it?"

Panicked eyes peered up from the quilt to meet Yasutora's. Shin, wanting to know what the hell he could say without setting this prickly woman off again.

Yasutora sighed silently, but accepted the mantle of protector for now. "If you need to know, you'll have to ask Ichigo," he said.

"Ichi-go?" Takata said with a frown. "You mean Shiba-taichō?" And Yasutora could see her re-categorising him yet again, this time from predator to potentially exploitable.

He nodded and watched her fight the impulse to say something, presumably to ask how he came to be on first name terms with her captain and whether what Koji had been saying was true. She settled on, "I shall make any necessary enquiries later then. For now, Shin, show me your leg."

The rest of her visit went off without a hitch, though it was painfully polite. As the door slid closed behind her, all three of the room's occupants heaved a sigh of relief that she was gone.

"She's scary," Shin whispered a few moments later. His leg had been re-strapped and he was under orders to stay off it as much as possible for the next twenty-four hours to let the healing Takata had done take properly.

Koji nodded agreement, settling back on his heels and rubbing his face with his hands. "And we have you to thank, Yasutora-san, for stopping her," he said, looking over at Yasutora.

Yasutora shrugged. He hadn't done much, not really.

"I can see why you're his friend," Koji continued, "You're very much like him."

"Yeah. Standing up for the little guy. Saved my ass, for sure," Shin enthused.

Koji gave him a cynical look. "You've changed your tune. I thought he was a spoilt noble who had everything handed to him on a plate?"

Colour rising on his cheeks, Shin dipped his head. "Yeah, well, I guess he ain't so bad."

"No, he isn't, and it's best you remember that. And control your hasty tongue, unless you want to lose it, along with your head?"

Though the words were harsh, Koji's tone wasn't. He was warning Shin, not trying to scare him and, for Yasutora, that brought the realities of this new life into a bit more perspective.

Being free wasn't the same thing as being safe. A wild bull may not have to face the matador, but it could be brought down just as effectively by a pack of wolves. Or by another bull.

On the other hand, there was nothing stopping it from seeking strength in numbers either.

"Anyway," Koji said, rising evenly to his feet, "I should go report on your progress to Shiba-sama. Since the mess is on my way, I shall have some food sent along for both of you."

Yasutora nodded his thanks. His own instructions from the doctor were for food and rest, though Takata had used healing kidō on his chest, which Yasutora had to admit did feel much better now. The odd disconnectedness he'd felt earlier was gone and he could breath much more easily.

Once Koji was gone, Shin relaxed even further, slumping back on his bed and puffing out a low sigh. "Fuck," he said, "that guy is so proper, he makes my teeth itch."

"Boss?" Yasutora asked.

Shin nodded, tipping his head against the wall to look over at Yasutora. "Hey look, I'm sorry about your friend. What she did for me… I'll never forget her."

Nor would Yasutora, however many years he continued on without her. The whole thing was too raw to even think about. He changed the subject.

"Where did you meet Ichigo?" he asked. If he was thinking of offering the hand of friendship to this guy, he should try and find out a bit about him first.

Shin's answer came as a bark of laughter and, "Would you believe on a street corner during a rainstorm."

As the story unfolded, a mess of violence and politics surrounding a captain's run on the 10th division, the conversation Yasutora had overheard earlier in the corridor started to make a lot more sense. The way Shin told it, it was a captain's job to defend their division. If they failed and someone else killed the old captain and took over, the repercussions for anyone who'd backed the wrong horse could be horrific; death, assault, or torture at the hands of the 12th. No wonder those shinigami had been so worried about Ichigo not being strong enough to defend them.

The only thing about the whole affair that didn't add up was, if Ichigo had been 'left in charge' of the 6th division rather than winning it in a captain's duel, what had happened to force the old captain and lieutenant out?

And if they were still alive…

The scream of a hunting hollow echoed off the high buildings. Byakuya rose warily to his feet as a human soul stumbled around the corner into the narrow backstreet where he and Renji were hiding. It was a young woman, sobbing hysterically as she ran past, probably driven to near madness by the chaos she had found herself plunged into upon dying.

A month ago, Byakuya might have helped her. Now he dared not even try. He was too weak, and what little strength he did have needed to be kept back for emergencies. Renji was still utterly unable to defend himself and so if Byakuya was killed, there would be nothing to stop the hollows coming after him.

Standing guard now over the blanket swaddled form behind him, Byakuya watched the hook-beaked hollow drop from the roof and pounce on the young woman, ripping her apart and starting to devour her in greedy gulping swallows. As it fed, Byakuya stooped to pick up his precious charge and, without a backward glance, strode quickly to the end of the alley. Using shunpo to boost his speed was out of the question. It would simply attract more hollows to their position, as would kidō or any other use of reiatsu, and there was a limit to how many hollows Byakuya could take on armed only with an asauchi.

When they'd first arrived, he'd been so angry and disgusted at what he'd found, that he hadn't cared about the danger. He'd fought for hours destroying every hollow he could find. Until he'd realised that, no sooner did he turn one to dust, than a garganta opened, disgorging another half dozen. The truth was, saving this place was an impossible task for one shinigami; the supply of hollows was endless.

So now he hid from them, ran from them, slowly making his way towards the outskirts of the city in the hopes of moving into an area under a different division's purview, since it was woefully apparent that whoever was in charge of this one had abandoned even the pretence of maintaining a balance between worlds. In the six weeks he and Renji had been in the living world, Byakuya had yet to see more than a handful of Gotei members, and those who had appeared simply stood back and observed the carnage rather than getting involved themselves.

The truth of the situation was, the only thing actively killing these hollows were other hollows, and that in itself was exceedingly worrying. Already he'd seen one feeding frenzy; a swarm of hollows piling atop one another, tearing and gorging on each other's spiritual flesh. That one had collapsed without transforming but sooner or later, one would metamorphose into a menos and this city would have nothing to defend against it.

And to think, when he'd destroyed the last of Senbonzakura forcing his way into the dangai, he had thought this place a sanctuary, somewhere they could regroup and Renji could heal. Instead, they had been catapulted into hell. One that Byakuya wasn't altogether convinced they were going to survive.

He managed a little over one spirit mile before he had to stop and rest again. This time he was lucky enough to find a partially abandoned building. Laying Renji carefully between a stack of boxes and a battered old metal barrel serving as a brazier, Byakuya eased the blanket aside to check on Renji's condition. He was still sleeping, as he had done since Byakuya used tanma otoshi on him back at Central.

In some ways, this was a good thing, or so Byakuya kept reassuring himself as the weeks passed and Renji showed no signs of waking up. Sleep was the natural healing method for any badly injured shinigami. The fact that Renji's reiryoku was all sealed inside him simply meant that the process was taking far longer than usual, that was all.

A rustle from a nearby pile of newspaper alerted Byakuya to their host waking up. The old man, who's fire they were taking advantage of, sat up, bleary-eyed and clutching a bottle of something undoubtedly strong and cheap to his chest. Byakuya watched him carefully as he squinted at Renji, or more accurately the oddly bundled blanket that had suddenly appeared next to his fire, and then at his bottle, before unscrewing the lid and taking a deep swig. A moment later, he was back under his paper blankets, snoring loudly.

Good. If the human was that far into his cups then Byakuya could afford to check Renji more closely.

Putting himself between Renji and the old man, just to be safe, Byakuya unwrapped the blanket completely, allowing Renji to sprawl onto his front atop the thin cloth. One tabi had slipped almost completely off Renji's foot and Byakuya busied himself putting it back on properly while steeling himself to deal with the rest.

Washing came first, as it always did.

Byakuya pulled out the small bundle of supplies he carried tucked into the front of his kosode and unwrapped it. He was tempted to steal some of the alcohol as a disinfectant, but given the way he'd been clutching it, the old man would undoubtedly notice its loss even when sleeping, so the water would have to do. Luckily Byakuya had managed to refill the bottle earlier at a fountain in a children's play park, the late hour having rendered the place deserted and thus safe from prying human eyes. Now he unscrewed the lid and stood the bottle to one side as he picked up the knot of clean cloths bundled alongside it.

Very few strips remained of the original collection. He would have to steal more soon.

Byakuya's heart sank at the idea. He hated having to do it. Not because the shops and homes would miss the small items he took, but because it meant having to leave Renji alone while he did it. But needs must. If he failed to keep Renji's injuries clean, infection was a real possibility, especially here in the living world.

It seemed grossly unfair that disease could effect shinigami when human food could not sustain them. Thankfully water was not a problem. Drinking fountains were frequent, and if necessary, the river was usable, if not palatable, all of which helped Byakuya maintain his strength at its current pitiful level. However to recover further he would need food, and that was proving a stickier problem.

Customarily, members of the Gotei assigned to the living world carried ration packs. And those assigned for longer periods would be granted the use of gigai, a type of false body produced by the 12th division, which allowed them to consume human food. Lacking either of those options, Byakuya was at something of a loss. But a solution would have to be found sooner rather than later, before his weakness became completely incapacitating.

As he mulled over the problem, Byakuya began the marathon task of cleaning Renji's wounds. Much of the paper-thin skin on his back and thighs had split under rough-handling by Aizen, and Byakuya himself as they'd fled through the dangai only steps ahead of the 'cleaner'.

Leaving Ichigo behind to deal with the fall-out.

No, he couldn't let himself think that. In resigning both commission and clan-leadership, Byakuya had distanced himself from Ichigo as far as was legally possible, which would be enough to protect him from any attempt at retribution for Byakuya's crimes. Domestically, Koji would see that his household was well-managed and at the 6th, Hisana would teach him the ways of politics.

With Yoruichi and Kyōraku beside him, helping hold his division as they had once done for an equally young and inexperienced Kuchiki, Ichigo would be fine. He had to be, otherwise all of this, everything Byakuya had done and had tried to do, was pointless.

Byakuya pressed a wet cloth to each of the open places on Renji's skin, gently wiping away the fluff and dirt that had collected in them since he'd last been able to properly stop. Two days ago, he thought, though he also suspected he was losing track of time.

And place. Several of the shops he had passed this evening looked very familiar and, though he was doing his best to follow the signs along the roadways, many of the words were unfamiliar to him.

The thought that he was lost and simply wandering in circles, never to escape this hollow infested hell, was starting to haunt Byakuya's thoughts. He did his best to dismiss them, focusing instead on the incremental improvement in Renji's physical condition.

See, his wrist. The bruise above the welt was much paler than it had been. He was healing. He would heal. Soon he would be recovered enough to awaken and then Byakuya could… Byakuya could…

Water dripped onto the back of his hand. It took Byakuya a moment to realise it was tears. That he was crying.

Sitting back on his heels, he blinked up at the ceiling, forcing his traitorous emotions back under control. He was of no use to Renji bawling like a child. What Renji needed now was the strength of his captain, even if Byakuya had left that rank behind along with his title and clan.

After a moment, he regained his equilibrium and finished the job off briskly, without allowing himself to become side-tracked by useless imaginings. Once Renji was clean and dry, Byakuya used the last of the water to wash his own hands and then replaced the empty bottle and what remained of the cloths into the bundle. That, he tucked back inside his shihakushō to keep it safe. Now all that remained was to make himself comfortable for the night.

He sank to the blanket beside Renji's head, curling partly round the sleeping man and running his fingers across the bare patches and uneven tufts of damp red hair that covered his scalp. There was no sign of that starting to regrow, which hopefully meant all the effort was going into healing.

"And when you are better, Renji," he murmured, bending to drop a kiss to that battered beloved face, "I will tell you how sorry I am for all of this. The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you."