A blood-curdling screech from the bedroom brought Hitsugaya running full-tilt across his personal suite.

"Matsumoto!" He slid to a halt just inside the doorway, noting in an instant that the room was empty save the auburn-haired beauty standing at the far wall with a blank look on her face. "Are you okay?"

"Of course I am," she quipped. "Whyever wouldn't I be?" Turning back towards the wall, she lifted a painting in one hand and a strange, lumpy object in the other. Within seconds the ear-splitting noise filled the room once more.

Clapping his hands over his ears, Hitsugaya hollared. "MATSUMOTO!"

Stopping again and starting to look slightly irked, she glanced over her shoulder. "What is it, Toshi?"

He was staring at the odd contraption in her hand as if it were a live Hollow. "What the hell is that thing?"

"Power tool," she chirped, hefting the unwieldy item. "It's called a 'grill'...or maybe a 'drill'? Hm, can't remember. Ikkaku-taicho brought it back from his last trip to the Real world. It's fabulous," she gushed. Turning back to her project, Rangiku jabbed the pointy end of the thingamabob towards the wall. "Makes household projects easy as dirt!" Flexing a forefinger, the sound pealed out again and Hitsugaya could feel his left eye starting to twitch. This time the torture was mercifully brief and presently she was standing back from the wall admiring her newly-hung artwork. "There - perfect!" Whirling around, she flashed Toushirou a brilliant smile. "You should see this thing he got me for the bathroom! It's called a 'mini-sledgehammer' and it's going to get that nasty old flooring up in no time..."

Hitsugaya fought the discouragingly familiar feeling that he was slowly drowning. Ever since their last trip to the real world, Matsumoto had been on an interior designing kick. Despite the fact that they had been sent to Karakura Town on official assignment, Rangiku had effortlessly insinuated herself into Inoue Orihime's living room, spending as little time working as possible and discovering a foreign tv channel called HGTV. To his great dismay, Toushirou had been innundated with strange terms like "complimentary colors", "flow" and "proper staging" ever since.

Hitsugaya sighed loudly. "Rangiku, is it absolutely necessary to..." he desperately hunted for the human word, "..remodel?" He liked his austere quarters just the way they were; eyeballing the new painting, he decided rather instantly that he hated it.

"Yes," Matsumoto insisted. "You can't expect me to live in such bachelor-like conditions with all the time I spend here. Honestly, it's not the least bit homey." Hitsugaya wondered exactly what part of 'homey' included her messy pile of dirty clothing strewn around the bedroom in ever-increasing chaos, but knew better by now than to voice the thought. She seemed to read his mind anyway and fixed him with a warning look. "I'm nesting, Toshirou. Don't interfere."

Not on his young life. He was, however, determined to distract her. "Erm, Matsumoto, I was thinking..." Great. Now he had to follow that up with something credible. Hitsugaya frantically wracked his brain. "How would you like to get out for a bit? You know, just during the whole...remodel...thing."

That got her attention. She stared at him with interest, blue eyes wide. "You mean...like a vacation?"

"Well, not a vacation per say..." Yuh, as if he could get that past approval. "I was thinking...more like...a sort of..."

She totally misinterpreted his stammering. "You mean like a date?" She supplied, her face brightening.

"Er...a what?" Hitsugaya tried to stall, desperately hunting for a way to backtrack.

Matsumoto's delighted squeal hurt his ears nearly as much as the power tool. "Oh, Toshi, you mean it!?" She leapt across the room and threw her arms around him, as usual trying to squeeze the life out of him. "What a wonderful idea - we've never been on a date!" He murfled something into her hair and she pulled back, finally allowing him to draw breath. "What was that?"

"We've been 'dating' for over a decade, Matsumoto," Hitsugaya repeated, flexing an arm and wondering if she'd actually broken it this time. He never could quite figure out how she measured 'firsts'.

"Don't be ridiculous," she miffed, not noticing his slight wince at the dreaded word. "We spent most of that time stalled at second base. It's only been two years since we really became a 'couple', and we've never been on a real date - you never come out with me." Now she was pouting, which he dreaded, but at least she'd helpfully defined things for him.

"That's because I don't drink, and it's all you ever want to do..." Hitsugaya muttered irritably.

"That's not-!! Well, okay, I guess that is true. It's just that there's nothing else fun to do in Sereitei." Rangiku paused thoughfully, tapping a finger against her cheek. "Of course, the Real world is a whole other story..." Her face lit up like the sun. "Where do you want to go? I can have us packed in an hour..."

"Rangiku," Toushirou said rather helplessly, wondering how on earth he was going to get approval for a personal trip to the Real world on short notice, but quickly changed his mind; she looked way too happy for him to back down now. How the hell do I get myself into these things? He sighed. "Not tonight." At her sudden and predictable pout, he spoke quickly. "Tomorrow. I have to head over to the Academy first thing in the morning to take a look at the new year students. After that, I promise."

"Oh, right. I forgot. Well, you can't miss that. Okay," Matsumoto gave him a look that made it very clear that he was lucky to get off the hook. "We'll go tomorrow. Besides, that will give me time to get started on the bathroom..!"

As she sailed past him into the rest of the suite on yet another home improvement project, Hitsugaya stifled a growl, threw a glare at the unwanted painting and headed for the administrative office for some much-needed peace, quiet and paperwork.

Morning dawned crisp and clear over the Academy, the thrill of anticipation mingling with the cool, fresh scent of early fall. First Day was always a scene of moderately organized chaos. The air was fully charged as dozens upon dozens of fortunate and nervous new hopefuls crowded the courtyard, puffed full of ambition and thinly-veiled bravado. As many times as Hitsugaya had attended First Day, he rarely found himself thinking back to his own training. Not only was he not the type to be given to nostalgia, but his Academey years fell far short of golden. While they hadn't been exactly terrible and he did have some fond memories of those days, schools of any kind could be notoriously lonely and unfriendly towards the unabashedly brilliant.

Still, he was always reminded of his own entrance into the academy, how eagerly his young talent had been accepted, and was never more painfully aware of how different things were for these new prospects. The difference had little to do with the fact that few if any were estimated to be talented young geniouses as he had been; ever since the Great War, spirit beings gaining admittance to the training and priviledges of the Gotei 13 had greater obstacles than ever placed before them. Whereas historically the academy was open to most anyone with latent spirit power, over the last decade a stringent screening process had become mandatory. That not one but three captains could rise to the highest shinigami levels only to reveal twisted and treacherous natured, had made the Gotei understandably gun-shy. Now everyone applying to the Academy was carefully examined and tested for similar character flaws. The number of applicants who found themselves turned away were still relatively few, particularly if they displayed reasonable power potential, but those who were deemed cautionary would find themselves carefully monitored and subtly trained to overcome any possibility for future treason.

A quietly intense aura approached Toushirou from behind, as usual bringing to mind the image of an asp - beautiful, silent and deadly.

"Quite a crowd," Hitsugaya pronounced as the figure glided to a halt at his side. Sui Fon grunted in agreement, her sharp eyes never leaving the milling students. She crossed her arms and lazered the scene with her scrutiny.

"More than last year, although more will likely be turned away." She grimaced. "We may still have great need to fill our decimated ranks, but there are too many with incorrect latent sympathies."

"For Aizen? Still?" Hitsugaya never failed to undertstand why anyone in Rukongai had empathized with the traitor, a strange back-lash that had occurred directly after the War and simmered for years. Even though entire sections of the wandering soul town had been levelled in the fighting, and much greater devestation would have occurred had the Hougyuokou survived much longer than it did, a wave of anger and rebellion had been directed not at the traitors but at the Gotei 13. Word had somehow gotten around that Aizen's true goal had been to make Sereitei more egalitarian, an abreviated and barely accurate version of the truth, and many of the lower spirit beings had been swept up in the damaging lies. Hitsugaya had the greatest repect for Sui Fon for her massively effective efforts at stilling the incendiary rumours, but in answer to his question Sui Fon suprisingly gave a curt shake of her head.

"For Ichimaru," she corrected, and Hitsugaya couldn't help whipping his head around in surprise. "For some reason, the undercurrents of treasonous sympathy have grown stronger in the past several months and my agents tell me Aizen's name is heard less and less. Ichimaru, on the other hand," she said, her voice hardening, "did not come from nobility, as Aizen did. His roots are in Rukongai and it seems that there are those who remember it." Turning, she met his wide green eyes, which were starting to sparkle with anger. "The words being whispered are that he was duped by Aizen and murdered for crimes of which he bears no responsibility." Her quartz eyes glittered at him while he absorbed that information.

"That is complete insanity," Hitsugaya growled through gritted teeth, turning back to glare at the new recruits. The man tried to kill Hinamori and very nearly destroyed Matsumoto, not to mention perpetrated the massacre of Room 46 and his own vice-captain...and that was just the short list of Gin's crimes. "Why do people listen to such rubbish?"

"We are trying to find the core group propogating the lies, but it is difficult." Sui Fon shifted, her gaze sharpening as she turned her attention to another group of students. "Rumours are powerful things, and difficult to control." Turning on her heel, she stalked away.

Leaving Hitsugaya to frown a storm up at the milling crowd of students. They are indeed, he couldn't help agreeing as a wave of paranoia threatened to sweep over him. His eyes narrowed and he couldn't resist looking a little closer at each individual in the courtyard, trying to discern by looks alone if any of the newlings were stupid or foolish enough to harbor such dark thoughts. Just the mention of his old nemesis had his hackles up and everything he saw filled him with suspicion; a narrowing of eyes, the twitch of a hand, a flash of glittering red...

Suddenly everything went dark, and with a sigh Toushirou reached up to peel hands away from his eyes. "Matsumoto, you know better than to play games when I'm working." He never understood how the person he loved so much could sneak up on him so easily.

"Of course I do," his beautiful fukutaicho replied, swinging her arms down to clasp her hands behind her back and giving him her most innocent look. "I just thought I would help you out. You were beginning to look positively murderous and I think you're starting to scare the children."

He realized that she was right; most of the new students had angled away from him, huddling together and throwing worried glances in their direction. With a grimace, he turned to look into beautiful blue eyes. "What do you want, Matsumoto?"

"You," she shot back, and at his quick glance to see if anyone had heard her, she giggled. "Oh come on, they're all too far away and frightened of you to overhear anything. And since you've done your job and properly put the fear of death-gods into them, I think it's time we get moving. I've got the whole date planned and we're on a tight schedule!" She gave him a wide grin and winked away.

With a muted groan Hitsugaya turned to follow, resisting the urge to throw one last glance behind him and trying to shrug off the itchy feeling that Ichimaru was watching him.

Hitsugaya stared at the love of his life as if she had grown three heads and stared speaking Pig Latin. "What!?!"

"You stay here, silly." Matsumoto repeated effortlessly. "There's a 'game' on. I don't know what it means but it's a very human 'guy' thing and you're going to love it. We're going to be shopping all afternoon and I know how much you hate that." Matsumoto nodded encouragingly at Orihime, who returned the look rather wanly. "We'll be back at 6 o'clock and then our date is on!!" With a final flourish, she grabbed Inoue and yanked her out the front door. Hitsugaya felt rather badly for the unctuous human, who seemed to be on the verge of saying something soothing before she was unceremoniously wisked away.

All of which left Toushirou alone in the apartment of some poor human girl, whom he was quite certain hadn't planned on this invasion, watching an American sports game that made no sense at all. Settling himself rather grumpily on the overstuffed couch, he watched for about an hour before he got thoroughly disgusted.

"Tch, all they do is run into each other and fall down, over and over again. And what the hell is a first down, anyway...?" Getting to his feet restlessly, Hitsugaya shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and wondered what to do with himself. The clock read a discouraging 2 o'clock, which gave him positively hours to fill. With a sigh and an effortless application of reiatsu, even encapsulated as he was in a gigai, he hopped onto the roof.

"Oiy," an amused voice greeted him almost instantaneously, catching Hitsugaya by surprise. Whirling around, he caught sight of strawberry-colored hair and quickly relaxed.

"What are you doing here, Kurosaki?" Hitsugaya plunked down onto the roof tiles and tried to hide his frustration.

"Rukia babbled something about Matsumoto and some big plan for a 'perfect date' and I figured you might need some male support," Ichigo replied dryly, strolling across the roof and dropping down cross-legged next to him. "Looks like you're in for it, man."

"Bah," Hitsugaya muttered irritably. "I don't understand why everything needs to be such a big production..."

Ichigo snorted. "Welcome to the club. The minute Rukia gets that glint in her eye, I know I'm in for a crapload of drama." Ichigo fell back against the tiles, closing his eyes and resting his head comfortably against his crossed arms. "Just let 'em do their thing...and be sure to notice everything."

"Everything?" Hitsugaya repeated, one eyebrow arching upwards.

"Everything," Ichigo reinforced. "Every little detail." One eye squinted open. "And be sure to tell her she's beautiful."

That wouldn't be hard; Matsumoto was always beautiful. Toushirou didn't realize he'd spoken out loud until he heard Ichigo chuckling.

"Yeah, say it just like that. It'll help...later." At his smirk, Hitsugaya felt his cheeks warming.

They sat for several long moments in companiable silence before Hitsugaya spoke up again.

"Kuroskai...?"

"Hm?"

"...what's a first down?"

"Hrmpf. Damned if I know. I'm a soccer fan."

"There," Ichigo pronounced solomnly, making a last-minute adjustment to the wide cummerbund. "You're all set."

Hitsugaya fidgited; gigais were uncomfortable enough without being enshrined in such absurd clothing. "Are you sure it's supposed to be this tight?" he growled, tugging at the strange little twist of fabric at his neck.

Ichigo chortled. "No, it's not actually - it's supposed to be tighter. I'm giving you a break here, quit complaining." With a final twitch to correct the mangled bow-tie, Kurosaki pushed him firmly towards the door. "Go get 'em."

Feeling utterly ridiculous, Hitsugaya shot the human a disparaging look before swallowing hard and emerging from the back room.

"Oooh...Hitsugaya-kun. You look very...manly!" Orihime gushed in her adorably awkward way. The flush to his cheeks was instantaneous, his self-consciousness disappearing a heartbeat later as his eyes fell on his fukutaicho.

"Hmm...not bad, if I do say so myself," Matsumoto said appraisingly, her eyes drifting all the way up and down his body. "This Armani guy is definitely worth the money."

Hitsugaya didn't hear a word of it. His deliciously curvy vice-captain was barely clad in a skin-hugging slinky dress that shimmered like a million black diamonds. Every sway of her hips as she glided across the room sent light shattering over the walls; she was so mezmerizing it made his mouth go dry. Completely forgetting that he was thoroughly incommodious in his tuxedo, or that there were other people watching them, he found his hands twitching at his sides as he imagined what her body would feel like through the diaphanous material. "Matsumoto...you look..." A barely-functioning part of his brain supplied the appropriate advice. "You look beautiful," he croaked.

He was rewarded by a brilliant smile. Her hair was falling in loose curls over her shoulders and she had done something to her face that made her cheeks look flushed, her eyes look larger than usual and her lips maddeningly kissable. "Well, then. We make quite the pair." Tossing her luxuraintly shiny hair over her shoulder, Rangiku cast a smoky look at their audience and hooked her arm through his. "Don't wait up for us, kids," she purred as she guided him towards the door.

Hitsguaya was sure he heard someone, who sounded suspiciously like Rukia, snort a laugh as the door closed behind him but he hardly cared. He only had eyes for the glittering vision at his side and barely registered the walk down the stairwall to the street corner, where an improbably long vehicle awaited them. A man with white gloves opened the door and gallantly helped Matsumoto into the limosine. Hitsugaya could barely wait until the door had closed before his hands were on her, his mouth hungrily seeking her soft lips...

Giggling, her hands came up to his chest and she pushed him gently but insistently away. "Not now, Toshi. I have the perfect evening planned, and it's not going to go very well if you tear my dress." He couldn't have possibly disagreed more, but his frustrated growl only made her giggle harder and he found himself in a losing battle for what seemed like ages before the limo finally came to a halt.

Titilated beyond belief, his entire body taut to the point of being painful, Hitsguaya made a last-ditch effort to draw her close. "Stay with me, " he murmered hoarsely into her ear, pressing his hard body against hers. "Don't go..."

Rather feebly, Matsumoto pushed him back and met his heated gaze, her own eyes a dark, seductive azure. Giggling throatily, she said, "Not yet, Toshi. We've got very good seats, and a whole date ahead of us. It won't do to have dessert first..." He was deeply starting to hate the whole 'date' concept, but further argument was impossible as the door opened and the driver obseqiuously cleared his throat. Stifling a growl and trying to get his body to calm down, Toushirou smoothed out his tuxedo and unfolded himself from the confines of the vehicle.

Flashing lights nearly blinded him as he stepped out onto a soft, red carpeting. Turning quickly and hoping to all the gods that his body had, indeed, listened to him and calmed the hell down, he reached back as Matsumoto's soft, strong hand slid into his. As she emerged from the limosine, the night lit up as day as what seemed like a thousand flashes went off behind him, every photographer on the scene trying to get a shot of the ethereal beauty stepping into view. Smiling like a goddess, Matsumoto wrapped her arm through his and grinned for the cameras, gently encouraging him into motion. Guiding her down the carpet amidst a crowd of glittering humans, Hitsugaya tried to keep the absurdly proud look off his face as he escorted her into the enormous building in front of them. He was quite certain that the woman on his arm was the most beautiful creature there by a distant margin and utterly refused to acknowledge any hint of bias.

Still, as much as he enjoyed showing off his incomparable date, he hated having so many people looking at him and couldn't get inside fast enough. Clearing the glass doors, Hitsugaya finally took a breath, leaning into the fragrant crook of her neck to whisper, "Rangiku...where the hell are we?"

Turning her brilliant gaze on him, she smiled. "It's called an 'opera' and it's opening night. Trust me," she winked. "you'll love it!"

The only thing he loved was the feel of her supple body against his, but to his immense frustration she led him into an expansive room full of seats and balconies. The way the space was situated, he wouldn't even be able to get his hands on her inviting softness without dozens of people seeing. Firmly clamping his frustration down, he spoke soothingly to himself as Hyourinmarou chuckled at him...Relax...it can't take all night...and then you'll be alone... Schooling himself with every ounce of discipline available to him, Hitsugaya forced himself to settle into his velvet chair and sublimate his overwhelming urges.

An eternity seemed to pass as the seats slowly filled, fat woman dripping in diamonds and wizened old men who smelled funny seating themselves around them. Fixing his gaze firmly on the lush, velour curtain in front of him, Hitsugaya waited for the event to begin and wondered if it was possible for a gigai to spontaneously combust. As the lights finally dimmed and the hushed murmer around them faded into silence, he thanked all the gods in heaven for not drawing out this particular torture beyond what he could bear.

He had never been so wrong in his life.

The room dipped into darkness, the curtains raised, and as colored lights came up on the costumed humans emerging onto the stage they began emitting sounds that were utterly deplorable. It was only a few heartbeats before Hitsugaya decided it would have been vastly preferable to stay at home and listen to the power tools. And that wasn't all; the story made no sense whatsoever, to the point where he actually started to doubt his own brilliant intelligence. There were humans dressed as birds flapping around on stage and he couldn't for the life of him figure out what a magic flute had to do with anything.

It wasn't long before he was downright twitching in his seat, trying not to notice that his tuxedo seemed to be getting tighter and more restrictive by the moment. It didn't help that Matsumoto was sighing, doe-eyed, right along with all the befurred and bejeweled humans around them. As time trickled glacially on, he thought he was doing a pretty decent job of hiding his annoyance until a bloated couple behind him started complaining about how cold it was and wondering how high the air conditioning must be set. At the hoarse whisper, Mastumoto shot him a disparaging look and Hitsugaya tried even harder to dampen his truncated energy. Still, by the time the curtain finally dropped, he breathed a sigh of relief and was forced to admit that even he could see his own breath puffing in front of him.

Following his glittering date into the lobby along with the pressing crowd, Toushirou leaned forward and buried his face into Matsumoto's silky hair. "Okay," he muttered, breathing in her scent. "Where to next?" He was hoping rather desperately that the next thing on the schedule was some alone time somewhere very secluded.

"What are you talking about?" She replied, blinking her enormous blue eyes at him innocently. "That was just the first act."

"The first...act?" he croaked, his skin feeling uncomfortably hot in the crowded lobby.

"Sure," Rangiku chirped back, either oblivious to his discomfort or otherwise ignoring it completely. "There's two more to go..."

With a wordless groan, Hitsugaya grabbed her by the crook of her elbow and whirled her around into a narrow corner, partially hidden by a luxurious, red velvet draping. Dropping his head to meet hers, he let his smoldering aqua eyes fill her vision. "I can't wait any longer," he growled, his hands making fists into the satiny material of her dress, only inches away from tearing it off of her. "Let's go. Now."

"Now, Toushirou, what did I say about dessert...?" With a throaty chuckly, Rangiku pulled him further into the alcove. Just as he was about to plant a deep kiss on her, an all-too-familiar sound boomed out right behind them.

"Hitsugaya-taicho." Ukitake Jyushirou's unmistakable voice filled the alcove, sounding like it came from mere inches away from Toushirou's ear. He jumped back as if galvanized, his wide eyes casting wildly about until the smoky silhouette of a hell butterfly detached itself from a deep shadow to flutter in front of his face. Ukitake again: "Pardon the intrusion, but you and your fukutaicho are requested to return immediately to Soul Society and report to the Inner Courts as soon as possible. Priority level 2A." Message delivered, the tiny hell butterfly winked out of existence.

Instantly on full alert, Hitsugaya whirled around to meet his fukutaicho's wide eyes and grabbed her hand. "We're leaving." As he headed swiflty for the front door, he felt Matsumoto hurrying to keep up, grabbing tightly to his arm as Hitsugaya navigated them through the crowd.

"What's wrong? Do you think we're in trouble?" He could feel her worried frown on the back of his head. "You got permission for this, right?"

"Of course I did," he growled, trying very hard not to shove an old female human wearing a dead animal out of his way. It seemed to take forever to get into the limo and drive back to Orihime's house where their soulgate awaited them, Matsumoto looking both worried and deeply disappointed, muttering the whole way about a candlelit dinner and something call a 'jazz club' all going to waste.

Every single one of Hitsugaya's nerves were on edge as he flashed into the Deep Archives only moments after returning to Soul Society, Matsumoto directly behind him. His hand twiched, palm aching to feel the tight leather of his sword's pommel in its grip, and Hyournmarou shifted restlessly inside him as the pair walked down rows and rows of shelves stuffed full of documents and official files. Reaching the proper section as indicated in their summons, Hitsugaya ground to a halt.

Nothing seemed amiss, aside from the fact that no less than three captains and a full complement of Secret Mobile force agents were milling about the remote end of the vault. Even more surprisingly, Ukitake himself was present, sitting on a pallet on the floor and making notations on something that looked like an archive inventory, all the while struggling against dry, shallow coughs. Predictably, Kyouraku was at his side, looking as if he was torn between being helpful and being protective. At their approach, Ukitake glanced up and caught sight of them, murmering a final low comment to Sui Fon, who nodded curtly and flashed away along with her agents.

"Ah, Hitsugaya-taicho" Ukitake greeted them, his voice strained and painfully frail. "I'm truly sorry for ruining your personal evening, but this matter requires your attention." Raising a hand, he gestured rather weakly towards a shelving unit.

Hitsugaya peered down the indicated aisle, shelves and shelves of sealed bins meeting his gaze. Everything seemed to be in perfect order. "What am I looking at, Ukitake-taicho?"

Shunsui snorted, earning him a tiny glare from Ukitake. "I know it doesn't look like anything, but that's part of the problem. Someone has been in here. Several files are missing, nothing exactly top-secret but definitely high-level information. Not only were the files taken but they were removed in a way that was meant for it to look like nothing had been disturbed." Ukitake's brown eyes were abnormally hard. "Someone snuck past security, knew exactly what they wanted and how to get it, and covered their tracks admirably."

Matsumoto stirred behind him and Hitsugaya couldn't help sharing her confusion. "I'm sorry...this is certainly alarming but I don't understand what it has to do with us."

"This section houses detailed records of all of our squads, this shelf specifically covering a period of about the last 20 years. Most of the squad containers were untouched." Shunsui supplied, his jovial face unusually serious. Hooded eyes peered out from under the wide brim of his hat as he continued quietly. "The only squad files they took were of the Tenth," his gaze slid past Hitsugaya to meet Matsumoto's steel grey eyes, "and the Third."

Hitsugaya felt himself go inexplicably cold, a strange sense of deja vu sweeping over him. He felt the same disquiet as he had that morning at the Academy, the prickly feeling of being watched. Hair standing on end, he frowned deeply. "You said they were detailed records - how detailed?"

"Personnel information, shinigami profiles, housing assignments, inside reports from other captains regarding their insights on staff and squad functions..." Ukitake broke off into a shuddering cough. "Everything." he weezed, as Shunsui dropped down to his heels at the pale captain's side. Looking carefully into Ukitake's face, Shunsui's lips tightened and he expertly started gathering his friend up into his strong arms.

"The information itself is rather benign, but there's no indication whatsoever as to why it was taken, or what purpose it is meant to serve." Giving them a serious look, Shunsui drew on his reiatsu. "We'll let you know when we find out anything more, but for now be on alert. What with the rumours building in Rukongai, there's no telling exactly what is going on." With that, and at yet another rough hack from Ukitake, both men quickly disappeared.

Leaving Hitsugaya and Matsumoto staring at each other in varying degrees of confusion. Looking thoughtful and slightly angry, Matsumoto glided down the aisle, her hand drifting absently along the containers. "It doesn't make any sense. Why would anyone want information about our squads?"

Despite his disquiet, Hitsugaya felt a tiny, swift smile curl his lips; she did that occasionally, randomly referring to the Third in the possessive. He doubted she noticed, and he never brought it to her attention for fear of being too pushy, but he found it a promising indication of things to come. "I don't know..." Lost in thought, Hitsugaya was working up a professional grade frown when a stir next to him pulled him out of his contemplation. He glanced at Matsumoto and saw an oddly strained look on her face. "What is it?"

"Shunsui-kun said something about rumours in Rukongai. What did he mean by that?" No stranger to damaging rumors, she already looked more than a little upset.

Hitsugaya swallowed; she wasn't going to like this. "Sui Fon mentioned that there seems to be a rumor going around about...Ichimaru." Even after all the time that had passed, he couldn't say the name without his voice grating.

Dozens of emotions spilled across Rangiku's face. "A rumor, huh?" She was quiet for a moment. "What are they saying?"

She'd only be madder if he witheld the truth. "That he was Aizen's pawn and murdered in innocence."

"Ha!" she laughed, suprising him. Running her fingers through her hair, her face settled into dry irony. "So I'm a drunken whore murderess now, is it? Figures." A wry chuckle issued out of her before she turned a hard look at him. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Rangiku didn't look mad, exactly, but he knew too well that that could change in a heartbeat.

"I didn't know it was important." Toushirou replied lamely, if truthfully. "I only heard about it this morning, and then you came to get me for our date..."

Topping off her tumultuous emotions, bitter disappointment took its turn dominating her expression. "Yeah," Matsumoto muttered angrily, "just add that to the list of things he's ruined." Turning on her heel and refusing to meet Hitsugaya's gaze, she trudged off. "I'll see you at home."

As the moon slowly lumbered across the sky above her, Rangiku was finally forced to admit to herself that she was moping. Which, while that could be decidedly useful in the proper application, when employed while one was sitting alone in the dark on an empty rooftop did little more than to foster a bad mood with a side dose of self-indulgent helplessness. When a cool breeze swept across her back, she quickly scrubbed the tears off her face.

"I don't want to talk about it, Toshi."

"I know. You don't have to." The low, rich voice she loved so dearly sent a tingle down her spine, and moments later strong arms were wrapping around her shoulders. "I'm sorry about the 'date'."

Chuckling bitterly, she craned her neck around to meet wide, stunningly green eyes. "No, you're not. Admit it, you hated the opera. Don't tell me you weren't happy to get called back."

Hitsugaya nuzzled his nose behind her ear and lightly kissed the lobe. "I hated the opera," he admitted, which made her flush with moody remorse. "But I'm not happy that your perfect date got ruined. Which is why I am not going to let you sit here alone and dwell on it." Getting to his feet, he reached out a hand to help her after him. "Come with me."

Matsumoto wasn't ready to let go of her bad mood just yet. "Not now, Toushirou. I just want to be left alone..." she grumped. She was determined to keep stewing; after all, it wasn't fair that he got the corner on irritable, and she was determined to have her fair share.

A patient sigh. "Fine. Come with me, Matsumoto-fukutaicho. That's an order."

Dammit, now she had no choice. She hated it when he pulled rank. And by 'hated it' she meant, of course, found it deliciously sexy. Rising to her feet on her own, Rangiku turned and crossed her arms, throwing him a mild glare which was deftly ignored as he pulled her into his arms.

"Close your eyes," her captain said, and when she hesitated he got that look on his face like he was preparing to issue another order. Relenting, she slid her eyes shut and let him flash her blindly away.

Feeling them settle to a halt, she opened her eyes as Toushirou pulled away and swept around behind her. Despite her depression, Rangiku's lips twitched as she took in the moonlit training glen surrounded by shadowy trees. Hitsugaya knew damn well how to wear down her resistence, knew that she couldn't come here without thinking about their first kiss, the day he showed her the way back to herself. Trying to tell herself that he wasn't going to win her over that easily, she turned slightly and caught her breath.

Toushirou was standing with that slight awkwardness she adored next to his favorite rock. Spread across it was his white captain's haori, and spread across that were two small dishes. A candle burned between them and in the minute, shifting light she could see a small, determined grin on his face.

"It's not exactly opera, but..." Scrunching up his shoulders, he looked as if she was waiting for her to grumble at him again.

As if she was about to do anything but melt. Slowly looking over the rock, Rangiku took in the cream-colored wedges covered in red fruit on the plates and she threw Toushriou a curious look.

"Cheesecake,"" he proffered. "I know it's not much, but I've heard great things about it..." He silently thanked Ichigo for all the advice he'd gotten on the rooftop earlier that day.

"Oh, Toshi," she murmered, finally letting a soft smile come to her face. Looking at her adorable captain, standing in the moonlight next to their little rustic table-for-two, she felt her heart start to speed up. "It's perfect." Walking slowly towards him in a way that she knew drove him crazy, Rangiku let her voice drop. "Looks like we get to have dessert after all."

"It's the best part, really," Hitsugaya supplied, watching her approach with a hungry look in his eyes.

Plucking at her squad robes, she looked apologetic. "But I'm not wearing my very pretty dress..."

Reaching out and grabbing her waist, he pulled her roughly into him. "You wouldn't have been wearing it much longer anyway," he mummered a hair's breadth away from her lips.

As they fell onto the soft grass, Matsumoto absently wondered if cheesecake would work just as well for breakfast.