Hitsugaya sat staring at the paperwork in front of him in his office, the lines and ink becoming nonsensical as his thoughts drifted from the Tenth Division building. His eyes slid to the paper dividing wall where his lieutenant's desk was vacant, for the third day in a row.

Now she gets help with her paperwork, he thought, sighing. Why hadn't scribes been assigned with the general paperwork it took to run the Divisions on other days?

He glared at the form before him until it was blurry, and then left the quiet, lifeless office for the streets of the Seireitei.

He wove through the streets where brash voices grew hushed when they saw the short captain as he took the streets leading to the east side of the complex. Lines had been drawn for awhile, since Aizen had parted out Soul Society, but lately other, more precarious lines, had been sketched.

He caught up with Momo Hinamori as she was dismissing her own scribe at her lieutenant's quarters in Division Five. The streets were strangely quiet in the Division, what little pedestrian traffic there was moving quickly through the sunny streets and alleys.

The small, slight form of the Scribes Squad passed Hitsugaya with a brief bow when she saw him. Hitsugaya saw Momo on the porch of her modest dwelling, her face breaking into a smile when she saw him.

Not as bright of a smile as she'd had before, he knew, but better than the teary strain she had worn for so long several months ago.

"Ooh, Captain Hitsugaya," she said clearly, lingering on the formality for too long. "What're you doing here?"

He looked to the paper she was rolling quickly. "Have you been making reports?"

"Oh, well, I'm supposed to give a third account of the last two months of Captain Aizen's orders and behavior before he left..." Her dark eyes dropped, her lips pursing at the words. "I'm revising my previous accounts, Toshiro," she said in a lower tone, her voice steadying, "about what Aizen said and did before he left Soul Society."

He frowned at her choice of words. She'd never used any like them before, and while he knew of her occasional use of the term Captain when she spoke of Aizen, he thought it was force of habit, and not truly reference. "You're changing what he said? How can you?"

"No," she said, her tone verging on contempt, but not quite crossing that line. "I think what he said much of the time didn't mean what I thought it did."

He watched her hands tighten around the rolled paper. "Is that your report?"

She frowned at him, then looked down the street where several Fifth Division members were passing, nodding to her and Hitsugaya.

The short captain acknowledged them, and turned back to Momo. She seemed somehow smaller over the last few months. Her cap and shihakusho were as carefully arranged as always, her dark hair styled as he'd seen her wear it for years, but something was lacking. Something Aizen had taken away from her, something leaving her deflated, as if the trust had been sapped out of her.

He hated the change in her. "Show them to me."

She looked at him quickly, frowning. "Toshiro, I --"

He took a step up to the porch. "Fifth Division is without an acting captain now," he said, his voice dropping, concern leasing his face. "And you're in no frame of mind to be acting as vice-captain, Momo. Someone should look over your reports before Second Division does."

She nodded, hesitantly handing over the papers.

Hitsugaya unrolled the paperwork just enough to see the top third before his eyes shot back to hers. "This isn't your report, Momo. This is a performance evaluation."

She closed her eyes momentarily, nodding. "I know. I was to consider it before I made my next report."

He looked to the streets that were void of shinigami, and took her elbow, turning her into her quarters. "Come on."

Matsumoto had expected to visit the Second Division's detention center the next morning, as soon as she collected herself and prioritized the blend of anger, hurt, and delight at Gin's return coursing through her veins.

Forced return, she reminded herself.

Instead of heading out for the jail cell visit, she received a summons to Soi Fon's captain's private office while still at her Tenth Division dwelling. Not an invitation, Matsumoto noted as the officer from Second Division delivered the writ, but a formal command to meet the captain in an hour.

She gave her answer to the messenger, and finished readying herself before starting off across the now familiar streets to Second Division.

Now in the hall to Soi Fon's personal office, at the very door of the Second Division captain in the back of the administration building, Matsumoto felt the unease settling over her. Never before had she heard of anyone visiting the private office of the woman. She wasn't sure what to make of it.

Second Division was unlike any of the standard Divisions, anyway, she thought, turning her obi so the detail faced out. It had a definite detached atmosphere, with extra layers of formality most of the other Divisions lacked.

Particularly Divisions Eight and Eleven, she thought, knocking on the door.

"Come in," Soi Fon's voice called from the room.

Matsumoto opened the door, unsure what to expect. The office was less austere than she had expected, with the desk centered in the middle, and the back opening to a wide window overlooking a corner of the training grounds. Part of the left side of the room was hidden behind a chinoiserie screen of black lacquer, decorated with pearl and jade goldfish set against a gold pagoda and bridge backdrop. To the right was a wheeled bamboo tea cart, with dobin service for two in blue and white ceramic. The faint scent of cardamom, ginger, and lemongrass lingered in the air. Soi Fon stood behind the desk, her stare as sharp as ever.

Matsumoto tried to hide her surprise at her first glimpse of the room, and bowed deeply. "Captain Soi Fon."

Soi Fon nodded as the taller woman straightened. "Vice-Captain Matsumoto." She watched the subordinate for a few seconds, as if unsure what a casual conversation should entail. "Please sit down."

"Thank you." Matsumoto sat in the chair across from the desk that the woman indicated.

Soi Fon sat behind the desk. Her hands rested on a stack of papers on the desk before her. "I understand this matter has some personal significance to you, Vice-Captain."

Matsumoto simply nodded. "That doesn't influence my judgment, Captain."

"Really?" Soi Fon watched her narrowly. "That surprises me."

Matsumoto felt she was nearing a trap. "I know how to separate my duties from my personal feelings on ... on the matter," she said with more calm than she felt.

"Good." Soi Fon nodded, and then stood and reached for the tray on the cart. She set it on the desk, taking a moment to pour two cups of tea from the dobin and set one before Matsumoto. "I do have questions you need to answer before I relinquish further examination to you tomorrow."

Matsumoto nodded her thanks, watching Soi Fon turn her small tea cup so the blue design faced her. "I'll do my best to answer."

Soi Fon nodded, choosing a paper from the stack, tilting the top edge to read from it. "Your association with Gin Ichimaru is well established." She looked up at Matsumoto, as if expecting a contradiction. None came. She nodded, looking back down at the paper. "I find it hard to believe you could know this man for such a length of time and not have some suspicions as to his activities with Aizen."

Matsumoto's fingers tightened around the tea cup. "I've thought about that myself, Captain."

"You never suspected anything?"

"No."

"Never had doubts about Ichimaru's loyalty to Soul Society?"

"Never."

"Did you ever ask him about his loyalties?"

Matsumoto shook her head. "It never occurred to me to ask him. There was nothing in his character to hint at deceit to Soul Society. There was nothing in Aizen's manner to make me question him, either." She immediately felt she shouldn't have added the last part, but the words were already out.

"Did Ichimaru actively deceive you during any of this time?"

Matsumoto returned Soi Fon's pointed attention, the light taste of the green tea suddenly dissolving on her tongue. "Actively deceive me? If you're asking if he ever lied to me, Captain, I say no. Not to my knowledge."

Soi Fon tilted her head to one side, folding the paper over itself. "You don't think he kept secrets from you?"

Matsumoto took a deep breath. "He did. Obviously, he did. I never thought whatever he didn't tell me was of such importance, Captain. He'd never kept anything of such magnitude from me," she said slowly, shrugging, "but I know he wouldn't outright tell me anything that would hurt me. He has a very strong protective vein to him."

"A protective vein where it concerns you."

She watched Soi Fon studying her closely, and then nodded. "He's always been like that."

"If you were to ask him, ask him clearly, to tell you something of a harmful nature, would he tell you, do you think?"

So here it was, Matsumoto thought. The real reason behind all the pleasantries. She considered the question -- a question she'd asked herself on countless sleepless nights over the last few months.

"Would Ichimaru's honesty with you overpower his protective vein, as you call it?"

Matsumoto wished she knew how to answer the query -- wished she knew what Gin's answer would have been. "In the past, Captain, I don't know. Honestly, I don't know if he would have told me the truth or protected me."

Soi Fon nodded, taking a moment to sip her tea. She looked back at the paper that was closed. "If you asked him now, after all that's happened over the last few months, would he be honest answering you?"

Matsumoto took a moment to think it through, as she had on numerous occasions. "Now?" She sighed, holding the captain's stare. "Now I think he would answer me honestly. He can do nothing to protect me, and I am in no way connected to his deceit with Aizen."

"Would he lie to ease his own feelings of guilt?" Soi Fon leaned on her elbows over the desk, her stare hard on the vice-captain.

"No."

"You think not?"

"No. He wouldn't."

"Most men would."

"Gin isn't interested in not feeling guilty, Captain."

Soi Fon sat back. "Would he be honest if you asked him about his involvement with manipulating Vice-Captains Hisagi and Kira?"

Matsumoto nodded. "Yes. He'd tell me the truth."

"Would he be honest if you asked him about Aizen's attempts to convince Vice-Captain Hinamori Momo to defect?"

Matsumoto felt the words pull at her conscience, but she nodded. "Yes."

Soi Fon watched her for a long moment, an unrelenting study that Matsumoto held. Finally, the shorter woman nodded. "I'll let you know tomorrow. You have today to see to your visit of Gin Ichimaru. I'll let Captain Hitsugaya know you'll be working more closely with Second Division on this."

Matsumoto could imagine the confrontation with her captain. "Yes, Captain Soi Fon."

By the time they reached the source of the low hum, the twelve member party of shinigami were two miles below the Las Noches surface. The air had grown thicker, cooler, heavy with condensation. The food packs carried by the lowest seated of each division contained enough provisions for eight persons, plus water, as no one had been certain -- including Ichimaru -- about the details of the alleged Quincys.

The passageway was empty, but no one had let their guard down. When they turned the corner, expecting another dip in elevation in the half-illuminated corridor, the Second, Eleventh, and Twelfth Divisions walked into a brightly lit cul-de-sac that dead-ended at a single door, the first of any they'd encountered since entering the tunnels.

Zaraki glared at the lone opening for a long moment, then put one hand on his katana hilt, and moved to grab the door's latch with the other, but his way was blocked by another figure. The Second Division Third Seat, Aibu, who had fallen back among the other members of the group again, had pushed his way to the front and now turned to look at the assembly.

"As Captain Soi Fon's Third Seat," he said, attempting a command to his voice, "I think we should proceed with caution. We don't know what kind of training these Quincys have had."

"Try the latch, Aibu," Kurotsuchi said irritably.

Aibu looked to the door and then up at Zaraki. "Strange that it's not attended."

"Everyone has fled." Kurotsuchi looked to his third seated at his side, who was keeper of the map. "Check again. Be sure this is the right location."

Behind them, the other members of the search team took casual stances, most looking behind them at the way they'd come. Ayasegawa leaned against a damp wall, and then stepped away, wiping off his robe's sleeve. "It smells down here."

Madarame shrugged, watching the officers hunch over the map again. "Just water."

"What do you suppose these Quincys will look like? The war has been over with them for a while." He made a disagreeable face. "I wonder what sort of care Aizen has given them."

"Well, they weren't guarded by his best men, seeing as the posts are deserted."

Some of the members of Second Division were grumbling about the thick air, crouching and spitting against the walls.

"What would we do with a bunch of Quincys?" Ayasegawa wondered.

Madarame watched the tunnel behind them cautiously. "If they are Quincys."

Another survey of the map was made, and the three officers agreed that they'd found the designated location. Zaraki looked back at the door.

Aibu looked to each of the captains, who were looking at him with strained tolerance, and then put a hand to the door, turning the latch. It didn't move. He wrenched on it a few quick times.

"Aibu," Zaraki said as the lower ranked officer began to speak, watching the slighter man flinch, "are there any directions for opening this door?"

"Ah, well, Ichimaru didn't include any directions --"

"Just rip it off, Kenny," Yachiru suggested, her small face leaning near his. "It's only a door."

Zaraki nodded. "You're right."

Aibu barely got out of the way before Zaraki's large sandaled foot drove into the door. The metal gave in under the first mighty kick, laying the door flat off its hinges.

They all gathered closer, ready for an assault of any sort, peering into the well-lit room. Yachiru was the first to find her voice, her eyes growing wider as she looked in from her perch near her captain's bells.

"Babies!"

Behind her, Ayasegawa stood by Madarame, looking at the ten sets of eyes that looked back at the search party. "I don't believe it..."

Madarame looked over the group of youths ranging in age from fifteen to nineteen. The exceptions were two much younger in the arms of two older youths. "Mere children."

One of the oldest stepped out from the rest as they pressed against the far wall. He looked at the troop of shinigami with unveiled distrust.

"Where is Lord Aizen?"