With a grunt, Ukitake blocked a low swing to his right flank, shifting on the balls of his feet to answer with a lightning-fast upswing. The squad-mate before him barely blocked it, but his zanpaktou held and with a grimace, he sidestepped into a vicious left-hand swing. Jyuushirou could barely keep the grin off his face as he pivoted to meet it, letting his blade dance off the edge of his opponent's and into the familiar cadence of sparring.

"Good," Ukitake panted, letting his lips curl up in what he hoped was an encouraging expression as he tossed his sweat-slicked bangs out of his eyes. "You've got strength, and determination. But you're a little too predictable." To underscore his words, he out-maneuvered the upper cut he knew was coming and lunged inside his squad-mates' defenses, knocking his blade free with a jarring blow to wrist while dropping to one knee and halting his zanpaktou half an inch from his opponent's torso.

He froze, glancing up at Akio-san with a benign grin. Akio raised his hands in surrender and then took a step back from the blade, a grin springing free on his face as well.

"One of these days I'll force you to a draw," he said good-naturedly, respect in his eyes as he offered a hand.

"I sincerely hope so," Ukitake replied honestly, taking the shake and stepping back to offer a respectful bow in return.

Jyuushirou absolutely loved sparring with his comrades. It was more than just an exercise to him; he loved pushing others and teaching them to expand their skills. It was entirely different from fighting Kyouraku. Shunsui pushed him to his very limits, challenging him in a way few others could. But sparring with those of lesser skills and power taught Ukitake restraint, subtlety, shrewdness. It was a balance between quantity over quality, each side of the same coin offering him more chance to experience and learn combat from different ends of the same spectrum.

Akio straightened with a grin, pivoting to address his squad-mates lined up around the training square. "Oiy, who's next?"

"Hayato-san," Ukitake suggested in a tone that had the faintest ring of command in it. He turned his grin onto the named squad-mate, who managed to look both eager and reluctant. "You need work on your uppercut, and I know for a fact your zanpaktou is dying for a spar."

A shadow of surprise flashed across Hayato's face as he stood up and drew his sword from its sheath; his was a newly-named zanpaktou, its personality still emerging. To Jyuushirou, it practically hummed with untapped potential. "How did you know that?" Hyato muttered as he crossed the square, a wary look on his face.

Jyuushirou just shrugged, concentration settling on his own soul blade. "Sogyou no Kotowari told me," he explained carefully, shifting his weight and tightening his grip on his sword's pommel. He directed razor-sharp focus on his opponent/squad-mate/student. "They talk to you, if you listen." He lunged.

Hayato's blade met Sogyou no Kotowari with a ring and with considerably more power than Ukitake was expecting. Eyebrows springing upwards, Jyuushirou danced back and pivoted, regarding his opponent with a shrewd smile. "Ah, but you know that already, don't you?"

Alarm widened Hayato's eyes before they narrowed in determination. His grip firming on his pommel betrayed him a split-second before he leaped at Ukitake, blade swinging.

"Hold!"

The tone of command froze Ukitake and Hayato in their tracks; glancing over his shoulder, Ukitake was surprised to see a unfamiliar shinigami at the edge of the training ring. Though there was something familiar in the classic lines of his face and the thin moustache and curling hair, Ukitake was certain the man was not from First. Confused, he dropped his swords as the strange shinigami continued.

"Ukitake-san, you are summoned by the sutaicho. He requests that you report to him immediately."

"Uh, ok." An odd summons, from an unknown shinigami. A tendril of memory stirred in the back of his brain but, unable to grasp it, Ukitake instead spared a moment to offer a short bow to Hayato. "Until next time," he murmured, eyes gleaming as the sentiment was returned. He held Hyato's gaze a second longer. "Listen to your zanpaktou. Trust it. It's the best part of you."

Hayato-san's eyes again widened in surprise, but after a moment he nodded in understanding. Ukitake sheathed his sword, turning without another word and strode out of the training square.

The unfamiliar shinigami fell into step beside him.

Ukitake's eyebrows rose slightly. "I know the way to the sutaicho's offices, you do not need to escort me, -?"

"Sasakibe-san," the man replied, gray eyes forward. "Yamamoto-sutaicho is not in his offices. I was asked to show you to his personal quarters."

That made Jyuushirou's eyebrows crawl the rest of the way up. His personal quarters? No one had been to Yamamoto-sutaicho's personal quarters. But this shinigami knew the way...? Confusing collided with that tiny whisper in his head, and suddenly memory crashed back into him.

First Year graduation. The sparring display, a last man standing. The whisper of wind that wended through the assembly.

And then Yamamoto-dono spoke. "Well done, Student. What is your name?"

The young man who had defeated all of his classmates turned and dropped into a full military seiza, his dark hair matted with sweat. His voice was tired, but controlled. "Sasakibe Choujirou, Yamamoto-sutaicho!"

Another long silence in the blistering heat, before Yamamoto-dono grunted. "Well done, graduating class. You are dismissed, with honors."

Sideways, he glanced critically at the tall, controlled figure striding along beside him. Surreptitiously letting a had drop to the pommel of his sword, he sent a silent inquiry to Sogyou no Kotowari.

The swords took several moments to reply; the sense of zanpaktous feeling in other out was very strong. Finally, in their sing-song way, his soul source replied. He is very strong, friend. A mountain lake; cold, deep and contained. It would be fun to cross with him.

Ukitake let his hand drop, the eager giggling of his sword echoing in his brain.

Sasakibe-san turned and glanced at him, ice-grey eye piercing. "It is far. You can flash?"

"Of course," Ukitake replied, cheeks pinking. He was suddenly effused with the feeling of having been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Sasakibe-san simply nodded and leaped away.

Ukitake followed; the man was fast, but he kept pace easily. He decided to try to smooth things over with this terse shinigami. "Are you new to First?"

The man nodded in between flashes. "I just transferred today. The paperwork has not had time to come through yet."

Obviously, or Ukitake would have seen it. He nodded as well, thoughtfully. "Any idea as to your placement here?"

Several flashes later, Sasakibe finally replied. He sounded a tad reluctant. "Yamamoto-sutaicho wanted to see how I fit in before giving me a particular Seat."

Ukitake thought back to his sword's evaluation of this man. Surely he was a shoo-in for a high seat...but they were all filled. What plans does Yamamoto have for this guy?

He had no more time for idle speculation, as they dropped into a large glen on the outskirts of Sereitei. It was situated far enough from central First Squad to allow Yamamoto Genruusai the chance to relax without smothering nearby souls with his reiatsu. Sasakibe turned and gave Ukitake a single, low bow before flashing away without another word.

Thoughts still roiling, Ukitake stepped up onto the threshold and waited.

"Enter."

The gravelly voice spoke presently; Ukitake drew back the door and, sliding gracefully out of his sandals, entered the private home of Yamamoto Genruusai.

The outside was deceptive. Inside, the front room sprawled out in a wide expanse of tatamis and shoji walls, stretching out to a completely open fourth wall which overlooked a private garden. The afternoon sun glinted off a small pool and bathed the front room in an amber glow and little else, as the room was almost completely bereft of art of furniture. Ukitake paused, letting his reiatsu fan out in as polite a manner as possible and then deliberately following his senses towards the power signature throbbing quietly deeper inside the building.

His journey took him down a long hallway decorated lavishly in mounted art frames, past rooms to each side whose closed screens withheld their secret interiors. Before long, he emerged into a tatami room that, like the front room, boasted an entire wall open to the garden and golden sunlight pouring in.

In the middle of the room, calmly sipping his tea, sat Yamamoto-sutaicho.

He made no indication of Ukitake's presence, so after a respectful pause, Jyuushirou let himself into the room and sank to his knees in a posture befitting a proper tea ceremony. Patiently, he waited.

Yamamoto finished his own tiny cup before setting out another, filling both at his leisure. At a faint gesture of permission, Ukitake nodded and took his cup, lifting it to lips. It was steeped at the absolutely perfect temperature.

They sipped in silence for a long while.

"The apple blossoms are not far from bloom," Yamamoto said finally.

Ukitake's eyebrows crawled upwards. "Hai, sutaicho," he answered in surprise.

"You have gardens at Ugendo?" Yamamoto sipped his tea.

Ukitake hoped his mouth wasn't gaping as widely as he felt it was. "Uhm, yes sutaicho. Although they're mostly my father's pride and joy. I prefer the lakes; they're full of carp," he added, fighting a blush.

Yamamoto grunted, as if such a banal statement held significance. "Your health has improved."

Now there was no holding back the color in his cheeks. Ukitake swallowed hard. "Yes, sutaicho."

It had actually been nagging at him; ever since achieving shikai, he'd hardly had a single fit of illness. Oh sure, that episode with the Hollowess, in the caves...but he'd been half dead the time. That was over a year ago, and he'd had no problems since recovering his zanpaktou. Ukitake took another sip and refused to look past the rim of his teacup.

"You've grown strong in other ways, as well." Yamamoto-sutaicho pressed on, letting a critical eye drift open.

Ukitake's discomfort sky-rocketed. Well aware that his face was aflame, he swallowed his unease and forced himself to make eye contact. No, I don't know why. I'm stronger - healthier - than I've ever been. Was it because of his spirit power, of achieving shikai? Ukitake had no way of knowing, nor did he for a moment intend to relinquish his fear of falling ill again. He sipped placidly and tried to calm his racing pulse.

Yamamoto grunted and set down his cup, breaking the tension with a sigh. "I need captains, Ukitake-san."

Jyuushirou twitched in shock. He took a swig of tea to cover; it was starting to cool. "Sutaicho?" he murmured in deference, confused. There were four squads, and four captains. What more did the Gotei require?

"We are not strong enough," the captain-commander growled hoarsely, his reitasu flaring just slightly, albeit still enough to seize Ukitake's breath in his chest. Yamamoto shook his head ponderously from side to side. "That...creature should not have been allowed to grow so strong, gather so many. Undetected."

Ukitake fought a wave of nausea, which surged whenever he thought of the twisted creature that had possessed Sogyou no Kotowari and the army it had harbored. The familiar ache of helplessness, of desperation, reverberated through him and before he could realize it, he was stroking the hilt of his sword. "You annihilated them, sutaicho," he croaked, trying for reason and reassurance. "They won't bother us again."

"How do we know?" Yamamoto grated, eyes opening the merest bit as the very air seemed to crisp. "I thought them gone before. Shall we wait until soldiers start vanishing - dying - before we know once again that we are threatened?"

Ukitake's breath halted painfully in his chest.

Yamamoto spoke on, half to himself. "It's not enough to respond to threats. They must be uncovered before soldiers die. Before innocents," and here the man actually drew a breath that almost shuddered, "are made to suffer needlessly. In order to be effective, the Gotei must be proactive," he finished firmly, raising his gaze to pin Ukitake to the wall.

"We must become stronger. I need more captains."

Ukitake gulped and drew breath as if surfacing from some deep, submerged depth. His voice, when he found it, came out as a croak. "What is required?"

Yamamoto may have smiled ever so faintly, it was impossible to tell from beneath his beard. He replied with a single word.

"Bankai."

Ukitake reeled. He'd heard the word - hell, he'd all but studied such phenomenon in his readings of ancient scrolls - but it was a concept shrouded in mystery so intense it bordered on taboo. That such a thing existed was all that was certain; what it was, what it did, how to reach it...such things were not discussed even in the most ancient of tomes. As a result, its status was something akin to folklore, to myth. Had one suggested Ukitake fly off into the cosmos and harness a nebula, it would have seemed a less ridiculous suggestion.

He shook his head once, staring down into his cooling tea with eyes that felt ready to fall out of his head. For a long time, Jyuushirou wrestled the concept around his numb brain. When he finally raised his head, he could barely whisper.

"How?"

Yamamoto shifted; something in the tension of his shoulders seemed to ease. He spoke matter-of-factly. "It is different for everyone. Each journey is unique, and none can guide you. Some have died in the attempt."

Hardly reassuring. Ukitake swallowed past an enormous lump in his throat. A million questions hovered on his tongue, but for some reason he found himself delving inward, downward. Reaching for his soul.

Can we? he asked Sogyou no Kotowari.

The swords did not answer, but they did not deny him either. A shiver of something akin to excitement ran through them, though they said not a word. Hazel-green eyes flew up to meet his captain-commander's in shock.

Yamamoto-sutaicho simply nodded and squared his shoulders anew. "You will have all the time and resources you need. I will know whether you succeed."

Or whether you fail, hovered in the air unspoken. Ukitake's throat burned with unnamed emotions.

"Where is your compatriot?"

The harsh question pulled Ukitake out of his mental free-fall. He faltered. "Uh...I do not know, sutaicho."

"You were both summoned," Yamomoto growled, for all the world sounding disgruntled. "Find him and send him to me."

It was a dismissal. Ukitake found his way shakily to his feet and, bowing as deeply as he could manage, made his way out of the building.

From there, he walked in a daze. Ukitake could hardly put a coherent thought together, so when he found himself wandering in the direction of the squad's onsen, he turned his feet gratefully in the direction of the hot spas and the relief they offered. Hoping for some peace and quiet to piece back together his shattered psyche, Jyuushirou slipped through the doors into the pleasant, steamy interior.

"Oiy."

As soon as Ukitake slid the door shut he was greeted by a familiar voice. For a second he stiffened, as he watched his hoped-for solitude fly out the window...but then his shoulders dropped and all things aside, he felt a lopsided grin take over his face. "There you are. The sutaicho's looking for you."

"I heard. Which is precisely why I'm here." Kyouraku Shunsui lounged in all his muscular glory along one side of the hot springs, hair curling tighter than usual in the steam. His one open brown eye slid shut as he lowered himself further into the bubbling water. "Where the fuck have you been? The water's perfect."

Ukitake grunted, shucking off his robes and folding them neatly before sliding gratefully into the scalding water. "So this is where you've been hiding," he murmured, letting the natural springs leech tension and aches from the morning's sparring out of his muscles.

"Killing two birds with one stone, my dear Jyuu," Shunsui barked in reply, dipping a cloth in the waters and wringing it out, only to drape it over his forehead and across his eyes. Settling back with a sigh, he continued. "Shinigami rarely seek to deliver messages to naked men. And aside from a woman, this is the best hangover cure in existence."

"You would know," Ukitake rolled his eyes and fought down a chuckle. "You really should go see Yama-jii," he said after a long moment of listening to the natural springs gurgle and steam around them.

"I'll get to it when I get to it," Shunsui replied from under his face mask.

Ukitake stayed quiet; a bit too quiet. Something in that must have betrayed his roiling thoughts.

With a splash, Kyouraku dragged the cloth from his temples and turned sharp brown eyes on him. "You were summoned as well? And you've been to see the Old Man already. What do you know?"

Ukitake sank into the water up to his jawline as if trying to disappear. "You'll find out," he muttered moodily, focusing his gaze on the lazy trails of steam as the danced across the water's roiling surface.

"Well, just inspire me with confidence, why don'cha?" Shunsui returned dryly. "You make me want to stay here all day." With that, he took a deep breath and sank beneath the surface.

Several moments later he emerged, sputtering and shaking his head, throwing scalding droplets around like a wet dog. "Come with me, I need moral support," he whined.

"I've already been," Jyuushirou replied tightly. "Besides, I'm heading home tonight."

"To Ugendo?" Kyouraku replied stupidly, eyes wide with surprise and feigned hurt. "Come on, you can visit your family any time. You can't abandon a brother in arms at his time of need," he wheedled.

Once again, Jyuushirou's hazel eyes pivoted to the heavens. "You'll be fine. And I don't have a choice; there's a family function that I cannot miss."

Kyouraku pursed his lips and regarded him for a long moment from behind dripping, curly bangs. "I could come with you. To Ugendo."

"Not by all the gods in heaven," Ukitake replied easily. He returned Shunsui's shocked look with one of stern derision. "Don't be ridiculous."

"I am never ridiculous," Kyouraku lied with fervor. "Why can't I come?"

"Because tonight means a lot to my family, and I still have nightmares about the last time you spent in my mother's presence." Ukitake suppressed a delicate and heartfelt shudder.

"Oh come on, I was at my most charming," Shunsui protested.

"Exactly." Ukitake's glare heated. "You can't come. I mean it, Shun."

Kyouraku was just raising his hands in a defensive motion when the doors slid open and several other squad-mates entered the onsen. The two boys fell silent, Kyouraku diving back under his face towel while Ukitake respectfully acknowledged the nods of his juniors with answering nods.

Here, in the steam, formality slid to the back burner. "I hear you gave Akio-san a run for his money this morning," good-natured, unseated Souta joked as he slid into the water.

Ukitake nodded, smiling weakly. "He's talented. With a named zanpaktou, he'll be formidable."

Stocky Tarou snorted a laugh, his own submersion creating a small tidal wave across the sauna. "You speak as if shikai were so easy," he grumbled, an unlikely grin splitting his dauntingly solid features.

"Shikai, sure," added Hirakou, another unnamed seat with a reputation for being free-spirited and easy going. "Just about anyone with reiatsu has the potential for it."

Ukitake nodded in agreement; that much jived with most historical recordings of spirit-power research. He was about to say as much when the next interjection stuck his tongue to the roof of his mouth.

"And bankai?" The florid, socially awkward behemoth named Daisuke growled casually. "It's so legendary most people consider it myth."

"It's not myth. All four captains have it, so it must be what makes them captains," snapped Tarou, beady eyes shifting uncomfortably even as he rushed to defend his statement. "The word is, the Old Man is collecting every soul he can find that have the potential for it."

Jyuushirou very nearly stopped breathing. Sasakibe's words thundered in his brain: "I just transferred today. The paperwork has not had time to come through yet..."

"Oushikuso," snarled Souta, his pleasant face twisting into a scowl. "You shouldn't talk about such things." His face flushed crimson, either from the topic or the steam, it was hard to tell.

Tarou shrugged. "That's what I heard."

Hirakou's face twisted up into a mangled, uncertain grin. "Well, there's only four captains. Who knows what it really takes? They could be colluding to set the bar as unattainable, so as to keep power to themselves."

I need captains. Ukitake actually squirmed as the recalled words thundered though his head. His cheeks flushed crimson; in the steam, he prayed no one would notice. Inexorably, he felt his eyes drawn to his robes, where Sogyou no Kotowari rested atop. They seemed to be vibrating with some barely contained eagerness.

When he managed to tear his eyes away, the conversation had lapsed into more relaxed and safe topics, bubbling on around him like the overheated water. But Kyouraku was silent and was giving him a look that he could cut himself to ribbons on.

"Gods, I could use a drink." Hiraku raised a hopeful eyebrow at Shunsui.

It was enough to distract Shunsui, and he mercifully broke the intense glance with his dearest friend. "Sorry, I'm hard up at the moment."

Ukitake felt his eyebrows spring upwards. "You came to the onsen without a bottle of sake?"

"I'm experimenting with sobriety."

"Really?" Ukitake replied in surprise.

"No." Shunsui adopted the patented Kyouraku Incorrigible Grin. "In my robes, help yourself."

With a whoop, Souta slid out of the pools and set to patting his way through the ungainly pile of cloth behind Shunsui. A moment later, he emerged triumphantly with a heavy bottle.

Ukitake sighed and eased himself out of the water. "Enjoy yourselves," he muttered by way of dismissing himself.

He was halfway dressed when a dripping-wet and mostly naked Kyouraku appeared at his side. "What's eating you?" When Ukitake refused to answer with more than a delicate snort, Shunsui crossed his arms. "Fine. I'll come by your place later and you can tell me all about it."

"NO." Ukitake's reply could not have been more heated. "Just go see Yamamoto," he hissed, tugging his obi firmly into place and putting as much vehemence as he could into his tone. "I'll be back in a day and we can talk everything out then." Shunsui replied with an inglamorous scratch. Ukitake promptly jabbed him in the kidney. "Promise me," he hissed.

"Well, if you're gonna be an asshole about it," Kyouraku muttered, rubbing his side dramatically. "Then fine. I got better things to do anyway." Ambling back towards the spa - with a quick detour to unearth a second jug of sake from his clothing - he slid back into the water, took a deep drag of drink and proceeded to start up a conversation about Souta's sex life.

With utmost care, Shunsui eased himself over the wall surrounding Ugendo, tamping his reiatsu down as hard as he could manage. He'd even left Katen Koyetsu at home in hopes of being as untraceable as possible. Hovering for a moment, he reached out with every non-spirit-power sense available to him and, deeming the coast clear, dropped silently to the soft grass below.

Really. If the Ukitake's didn't want unwelcome guests, they should up their security. Confident in that his course of action was really only to be expected by a best friend who should know better than to deny him access to a party, Shunsui grinned in the dark, remembering Jyuushriou's half-hearted attempt to distract him by sending him to Yama-jii's.

As if he'd needed to go. Shunsui made a point of never answering official summons, as they generally involved matters of responsibility and accountability, two things he avoided at all costs. Besides, he hadn't needed to see the Old Man; Ukitake's face during the onsen banter told Kyouraku everything he needed to know.

So, the old Battle Axe wants more captains. What for? More divisions? As if Sereitei needed more. The High Clans barely tolerated things as they were, forcing them to relinquish more power could only bode ill. More soldiers, more fighting, more insanely powerful shinigami kowtowing to the sutaicho's every beck and call? Shunsui could hardly imagine a worse fate, unless it was marriage to a woman with a hump back and halitosis. Mentally weighing the comparisons, Shunsui utilized his extensive personal and military combat experience to creep stealthily across the grounds.

It took a while; lax security or no, he had still opted to infiltrate Ugendo from the farthest and most ubiquitous location possible, just in case. Hours seemed to pass while he drifted around the vast lake, brown eyes always focused on the sukiya-zukuri ahead of him, blazing with a thousand lanterns as the sun set and darkness settled in.

He timed it perfectly. Full darkness had just draped itself like a velvet blanket across the landscape as he reached the edge of the building, modest by noble standards, the walls thin enough to make clear the sounds of revelry within. The cacophony gave Shunsui pause. It was hard to believe such a minor house could command such a turnout. That made Kyouraku grin; a party of this magnitude meant no expense spared. There were oceans of sake to be discovered, and no more time to waste.

He worked his way around until he finally reached a section of the manse that was quieter, the sounds of revelry muted to a dull, distant throb. Deftly and from long practice, Shunsui worked a small pocket knife into the slats of the nearest darkened window and teased the latch open. Cautiously, he eased the window open, listening for any sign of discovery.

Nothing. Grasping the sill, he dead-lifted himself up and over, officially breaking in. A single candle flickered in a corner, leaving most of the room and the window through which he'd just slipped in shadow. Shunsui held rock-still, long enough to be certain of his safe entrance, before he finally stood up and, straightening his robes, strode for the nearest door.

"I assume you're on the guest list?"

Shunsui very nearly parted with his own skin. Restraining a decidedly un-masculine shriek, he spun about and did his best not to trip over his own feet.

The dark room betrayed nothing. Kyouraku clasped his hands behind his back and attempted to cloak himself in innocence. "I was just...uh, looking for the outhouse."

"It would be outside, I would imagine." That voice came again from the dark, smooth as silk and sweet as honey. Kyouraku got the distinct impression it was amused by him.

He did what he did best and adopted a self-effacing grin. "You caught me, my dear. I'm am merely a humble servant, looking for more sake. For the revelers."

"A servant," The voice mused, curling through the shadows like smoke. A faint sound, like a finger tapping lips thoughtfully. "House Ukitake is such a lowly house, so poor. And yet it can afford to hire a shinigami as party servant?"

Shunsui's chin dropped open. In the dark, how could this creature tell what robes he wore? He was black on black. Instantly beguiled by whatever mind could be behind so sharp an eye, Shunsui switched from lop-sided grin to his best lady-killer smolder. "I was looking for the sake," he said, the honeyed tone mixing with disarming truth.

"Now, that I'd believe," said the darkness with a giggle that resonated all the way down to Shunsui's toes. "You're in quite the wrong place, 'servant'," it purred before turning shrewd once again. "What are you doing here, really." It was more command than question.

Shunsui's eyebrow quirked. "Talking to shadows. You?"

A chuckle; it sounded like a brook over smooth stones. "Trying to decide whether or not to inform the lord of the house of an intruder."

"Don't do that," Shunsui blurted, hands coming up in front of him in a placating gesture as a nervous laugh slipped out of him. "Look, I'm a family friend, really. Jyuushirou and I are like that." He held up two fingers, twined together.

The darkness seemed to consider that. "Well...they do say that the First Son chose a military education. And that he associates with the notorious Second Son of a particular House."

"Ah, eheheh," Kyouraku chortled, fighting something appallingly close to a blush. "That would be me." Chagrin melted instantly into affront. "And what do you mean 'notorious'?" he spluttered. That word sounded unusually biting coming from this hidden goddess.

"Rumor has it, this Second Son is a lothario," Shunsui's chest puffed out. "A drunkard, a scoundrel and an all around miscreant."

Kyouraku wilted slightly, but parried with a grin. "You say that like that's a bad thing," Shunsui went on the offensive. "Do you always believe things 'they' say, or do you have a mind of your own?

This time the shadows exuded a palpable pique, which dipped suddenly into something sort of sad. "A sharp mind in a man is something valuable. Us lowly women are merely required to look beautiful and serve the tea."

"Not where I come from," Shunsui fired back. "Why just last week, a lovely Third seat tried to hamstring me. I found it quite thrilling."

Another giggle; it made Kyouraku insanely light-hearted to have cheered up this invisible paragon. He peered intently at the shadow he was certain was cloaking her. "Who are you?" It came out as a croak.

"I am no one of consequence."

"Your name," Shunsui insisted, preparing a kido chant. This darkness was maddening. "I must know."

"Get used to disappointment."

"Never," Shunsui returned with heat. He found his fists clenched and forced them open. "The truth now, sweetling: what are you doing, lurking in the shadows?"

A sigh, soft as butterfly's wings. "Parties can be tiresome. I prefer to be alone."

"Oh yes, dreadful things, parties. Can't stomach them myself." Kyouraku couldn't believe he actually managed to say that with a straight face.

A full laugh; it tinkled through the room like bells on a summer breeze. "You, sir, are a terrible liar." With a quiet snick, tinder struck and candle caught flame, bathing the room in light.

And Shunsui found himself staring at the single most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on.

Hair black as a raven's wing tucked delicately behind perfect earlobes, twining up elaborately around an intricate tsumami kanzashi arrangement. The slender figure was robed in a gleaming silken kimono, all blues and greens and edged in silver, but what really knocked Shunsui over was her eyes. Settling the lantern carefully around the bright candle, the creature turned gracefully and eyes the color of perfect emeralds regarded him through thick lashes.

"Well, if you're really here for sake, you're in the wrong place for a drink," she said gently.

Kyouraku felt each word brush against his skin from head to toe. A distant part of his mind realized he was gaping like an idiot, but he couldn't seem to move. "I think I'm drunk enough already," he finally managed.

"But you've only just arrived." The creature glided towards him in a way that stole all the moisture from Shunsui's mouth. Her impossibly large eyes flickered towards the window and their color deepened in what could only be amusement. She regarded him for a long moment, her gaze sending a frisson of electricity along every single one of Shunsui's nerve endings. Abruptly, the luminous creature frowned. "I really should call security. Your presence in my private rooms is scandalous."

"Oh, you haven't seen 'scandalous' yet, my lady," Shunsui growled. In one swift movement, he drew near to the girl and snaked an arm around her impossibly tiny waist. More gently then he wished, he drew her body close to his.

She gazed upwards at him, ruby lips parted and her enormous emerald eyes widened behind their thick, black lashes. "I should call security," she whispered.

"You already said that," Shunsui susserated back. "Tell me your name."

He could swear a tremor ran through her delicate frame, but her gaze never wavered. "Why?"

Shunsui smiled, something warm and indefinable spreading through his broad chest. "So I know the name of the goddess who has stolen my heart."

At that, her eyes fluttered but any answer was forestalled by the nearest door sliding open with a snap.

"There you are, everyone's asking about you." Jyuushirou appeared like an apparition out of nowhere; he was wearing robes similar in color - a dozen shades of blue laced with green and silver threading - and his white hair was carefully tied back. "What on earth are you doing back here by yourself?"

The faintest hint of color hit the girl's cheeks, and she pulled away swiftly. Kyouraku felt rooted to the spot.

"Oh, fuck the seven hells." Hazel eyes clouded instantly.

The girl actually swatted at him. "Jyuushirou!" she protested in mild shock.

Ukitake ignored her, stalking towards Kyouraku with a face like thunderclouds. "I ask ONE thing of you-!"

"I haven't done anything!" Shunsui shouted in protest. "I'm just, I thought.." He trailed off, flummoxed. Abruptly he became annoyed. "I was just looking for the fucking sake."

"Are you drunk already?" Jyuushirou snarled, uncharacteristically furious. "GODS, Shun-!"

"I am not!" Shunsui hollered.

A hand on his arm stilled Ukitake; without a word, he fell silent, fuming, glaring daggers at Shunsui. The girl regarded him with an eerily familiar stance, expression quietly evaluating.

"He hasn't done any damage," she muttered, conciliatory, eyes still on Shunsui even as she spoke to pale-haired noble beside her. "And you're being rude."

Ukitake's shoulders dropped in defeat, although the flames in his eyes roared unabated. Recalling himself, he took a step aside and adopted a formal tone of voice.

A tone of introduction. "Shironen, this is Kyouraku Shunsui, my friend." He bit off the last word like an epithet. Still glaring, he continued.

"Shunsui, this is Ukitake Shironen. My sister."