Ganju followed the woman, who put on an air of strange kindness as if it were a perfume that identified her, defying her suffocating strength. Maybe he could help her? He despised Soul Reapers for what they had done to his brother, but she seemed so kind and calm he didn't think he would mind working with her, if only to get home sooner. She moved swiftly, gathering bodies of the unconscious and leaving some be, presumably corpses, and glancing occasionally at larger bodies as if she were mapping their location in her mind to come back to later.

Her once pristine haori was getting blood, gore, and filth on it, though she didn't care to remove it any more than she wanted to take her zanpakuto off, whether it was a useless hindrance or not. She walked into a wooden shack that was much larger than most of the structures surrounding it, shoddily built with hardly enough effort put into the construction to make it stable to the point where it wouldn't be in danger of falling on the occupants heads. Keeping wind and rain out wasn't this place's purpose, or at least not an accomplishment that it could boast, though it appeared to be of some importance. A carving into the log walls indicated it was, before commandeering, a city hall of sorts.

The idea of a city hall for somewhere so chaotic as this was laughable in and of itself. This place didn't seem to be able to reconcile with simple meetings and poundings of gavels, shown clearly by the fiasco outside. They were all too violent to even understand the idea of law-keeping and legislation, let alone the ridiculous notion of solving problems with democracy and logic instead of bloodshed and fists. Ganju didn't pay attention to the irony of a building like that to be in such a careless place and followed the serene woman still.

Ganju kept after the braided woman, picking up bodies that she glanced at but didn't seem able to carry without causing the people that she already had some harm. He followed her inside, thankful for the wide doors that allowed him to enter without harming the injured bodies he carried. He followed the woman, who went into a large room, once probably a place that held meetings, though now a make-shift infirmary.

There were many rooms, and through crudely carved windows he saw large, light blue and off white tents. Each available place, spare hallways so travel could be allowed, seemed filled to the point where moving to treat the injured was nearly impossible in places. Nurses ran frantically back and forth, passing Ganju without a second glance and demanding different medicines that he'd never heard of. He paid them no more attention then they paid him, following Retsu as if he were in a trance.

His jaw nearly dropped when he saw all the people she had brought on cots already, and she was pinned against the wall by the bald fighter.

She moaned out lightly his name. No nurses were in this room, and Ganju's presence was completely ignored or unnoticed. He seemed paralyzed for a moment, though he wasn't sure why. He wasn't a voyeur or pervert, if he'd seen something like this before in his life then he'd ignore it rather than have his eyes glued. This time was, for some reason different. Maybe because he couldn't believe either of these two who were supposed to be saving lives would be doing something so self-indulgent at a time like this. Holding the fainted rebels in his arms, Ganju didn't move a muscle, not caring one bit to drop them or leave the room.

The bald man's hand trailed down the woman's side. Ganju saw she was much smaller than her baggy clothes would allow one to think, and when he got to her side he began to expertly pull apart the rope that held the hakama as if he'd done this a thousand times. She moaned his name louder this time, Ganju heard it. "Ikkaku."

His ferocity in combat was something to behold, but his gentleness with the smaller woman was almost endearing. Neither noticed the presence of another still, too engrossed in each other to even care should they see him. His large and calloused hands opened her jacket, revealing she wore no shirt beneath it. Normally, she would have, but it seemed she was expecting this type of treatment. Ikkaku's hands wondered to her thighs where he massaged slowly. His mouth occupied itself on one of Retsu's breasts as he continued the gentle movements of his hands over pale skin.

The two were so opposite each other it was hard to believe they could be in the company of the other willingly. Ikkaku was tanned unevenly, probably from long hours working outside, while the woman submitting to him was creamy pale. The man's features were sharp and exaggerated, giving him a menacing demeanor, while the girl's were soft and kind as if to speak of her calm, forgiving nature. Retsu's body, though not exceptionally small, wasn't muscular by anyone's standards and the one preparing to claim her seemed as though he belonged with the over bulked rebels, leading them rather than fighting against them.

"Retsu," Ikkaku said, the name pouring like honey from his lips. It was rare for him to call her by her first name, the commander of the fourth division wasn't expected to be addressed simply by anyone. Especially not a seated member of a rival of her division. She enjoyed the lack of formality in this one aspect of her life, though. It made everything seem more sincere when the object of respect to the point that it's a pain rather than a pleasure is left out of the mix all together. "Retsu, can I?" His hands moved towards the the inside of her thighs, though keeping a distance as if he knew a punishment would come if he did as he pleased too recklessly.

"M hm," she hummed and let her legs slide apart just enough for Ikkaku's hand to go to work, and her eyes slid closed.

Though Ganju couldn't see Ikkaku's face, he could almost feel the grin that permission put on his face.

He finally got strength back into his legs enough to leave, with the shock being gone, but was too interested in the sight of the two eloping to even think about running now. He held the injured in his arms and stared wide-eyed at the show before him, listening to each and every moan dripping like honey from the lips of the secret lovers.

-Ahaha... No, none of that is part of the story. I just had to. You're not sleeping tonight with those images either, I take it? Oh, that was so fun. I really enjoyed that. Not writing the weirdness, that's scarred me forever, but I'm picturing all of you going "WTF? What is she (the author) thinking? She already said that Ikkaku was gay, and why is Ganju being a creeper, and what the hell is going on here? Retsu would never ever for ever never be with Ikkaku anyways. You are the worst story-teller ever. First you write a story that's kind of funny and then BAM! Cannibalism, gore, blood and lack of Ikkaku, then Ikkaku having sexy smex with Retsu? I do not understand!" Ah... So much fun. I hope that's everyone's reaction, I sincerely do. (You should review and tell me if you fell for it or not. I don't like asking for reviews but some of them will be priceless.)

Though, thanks still to both Safuuru and Nightkill (every time I type your pen name, I swear a new question/musing pops up into my mind...). You two are very nice to have.

But my stories only begin after the series of colons. Onto what actually happens now (and I am sorry, really, but I couldn't help myself, I just couldn't once the idea struck me. No, the reason Retsu isn't fond of Ikkaku is different, at least for this story!);

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Ganju was able to breathe easily once the abnormally potent spiritual energy of Retsu left, along with the injured. His group, though concerned with his health, knew there was a job to do and Ganju wouldn't put off their work even if he was dying. They continued on, being disregarded by any Soul Reaper that came along the way. Perhaps it was obvious that they weren't rebels, as they were taking the agitators out even more efficiently than any lower seated officer or grunt could ever be expected to. Whether or not Ganju would like to think himself an ally of Seireitei, it didn't matter. He and his group were viewed as being an extra set of hands, which were obviously in demand to get a grasp on the situation.

The light of day completely faded, the antics of the rebels not going with it. Ganju was unable to tell how many were left, starlight being a poor indicator of the agitator's forces when he tried to take a look from atop a building. Maybe he could see from ground level a good distance ahead of him, but from the high ground everything seemed to blend together in a mess of shadows,

His gang was too tired to continue, but he knew he had to keep it up until the area was cleared of rioters. He didn't have the luxury of resting when he knew that hundreds could be dying while he laid his head down for a nap. As long as his resolve kept, he knew everyone else would do their absolute best whether they stayed up for a few days or a few weeks.

Without warning, Ganju felt a huge burst of spiritual pressure near the center of town where all the Soul Reapers seemed focused on the most. It reminded him of the bald fighter, and he was waging an internal war on whether to go and take a look or move his friends who couldn't even sense spiritual pressure away before it was too late for them. Before he got to choose one way or the other, he was almost brought to his knees with another incredible pressure coming quickly.

"Everyone, com'on!" Ganju shouted to his crew. He wasn't sure what was going on, but he knew damn well that this wasn't the time to be standing and thinking of watching the show while his loyal gang's lives were in plain danger. The urgency in their bosses voice, despite having some questions, made the group follow without a word of protest. They could ask questions once they moved to wherever Ganju led them.

The insane spiritual pressure that had been going to Ganju and his friend's previous location was identified as the woman in the oversized uniform. She still seemed to be heading for him, but he wasn't sure if it were coincidence now. They've already made their peace, after all. Either way, he felt he should move everyone outside the town before the bald man's spiritual pressure popped its cap. Something was definitely going on and it wasn't going to be pleasant for anyone involved if the fighter's expression of insanity and blood lust were anything reflective of his personality.

Ganju froze when he felt the spiritual pressure of the woman come considerably closer, and saw her in front of him. She spoke just as calmly as before. "I know you must be tired," her eyes were closed peacefully and Ganju didn't even register she was speaking to him at first. "I do require some assistance, though. I'd like you to do a favor for me, if you're capable of carrying the injured."

She turned and pointed down the road. "Every body that is unconscious and in need of care, take down this street. There's a town square, though small, which we have taken to use as a base for our tents. A network of them spread across the district. I'm going to continue doing what I must." And with that she left, either sure that Ganju would help her without needing to hear an affirmation or not caring one way or the other and just trying to get help to speed things along, not out of necessity.

"Boss, let's go. We're not gonna help a bunch a snotty Soul Reapers-"

"Didn't you hear her?" Ganju asked. He was macho, but he had a heart. "The injured are going to be taken care of. There's plenty of kids on the street that ain't got nothin' to do with this," he said lowly. Should he stay and help or run from the frightening spiritual pressure in the center of town? There was no question in his mind. Ganju Shiba was a lot of things, but coward was not on the list. "Any a ya that don't think we should get these guys – all of 'em ta some doctors ain't the guys that I've been leadin' all these years. Least I haven't been doin' a good job at it."

"Boss-" Kenji started, interrupted by what Ganju had predicted. A large burst of spiritual energy that must have been capable of obliterating half the district coming from the center of town, luckily being directed opposite the area Ganju was in.

"We've got to get everyone help..." Ganju said solemnly. It wouldn't matter if he was staring down the end of a sword, had a knife to his throat, or an arrow pointed at his head, he would never become a coward. Putting his life before innocent victims of a rebellion they had wanted nothing to do with? The hell if that would ever be something identifying him.

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By the next day, Ganju's group had gotten all of the injured to medical tents, along with the help of other Soul Reapers. He didn't share another word with the mysteriously (almost eerily) calm woman, though he heard her talk once to the bald fighter about his antics.

"Ikkaku, you killed at least two hundred. You didn't simply kill them, but when you released that shock wave, you obliterated them."

A shock wave? That power was something so simple? Ganju hardly believed it.

"Well-"

He tried to argue. What was he going to say? I really wanted to kill them? I got carried away? Ganju knew it wasn't polite to eavesdrop, but they were arguing in an alleyway where he was collecting injured bodies and it was hard to walk away.

"I do not want to hear a pity argument. Third Seat, Ikkaku Madarame, you will be reported for this reckless behavior. This is not something that will be overlooked by your superiors, either."

"I-"

"There is nothing else to say here," she spat. Though she was not raising her voice, it was clear to hear her anger. Ganju felt angry for a moment as well, not even at the subject of the tirade. It was as if her emotion of calmness could affect someone when she spoke, and now her passion of anger was infectious. He continued with his work before being noticed and cut by Ikkaku, who seemed plenty capable of dispatching anyone as it pleased him.

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I hate trying to do dialogue, at least with informal speech. If I make everything realistic, keeping all traits of speech then it becomes difficult to read and you have to go over it two or three times just to understand what the damn person is saying (like Ebonics or something) (and if you're anything like me when this happens, you just go "Oh the hell with it! I don't even care what they're fucking saying!"), but adversely, if I don't put any inflictions or quirks in dialogue, Retsu seems to be talking just like Ganju and the hell if I'm letting that happen. It's hard enough thinking of realistic words for each of them to use, but damn if I don't make all of them sound like robots...

Ick.

Ick.

Icky.

Gr.

Die, robots!

*You may all think I'm mildly intelligent for all the jargon I use in this story (or pretentious, either way), but it appears I am very much of an idiot, or at least technology inept. The bonus chapter that I edited as a document uploaded on fanfiction did not stay edited. The first three paragraphs were as they had been once edited and the rest wasn't edited at all so... It's fixed now if you want to go look at it.