By the time Seree left Captain Unohana's office, closely followed by Isane, she was about ready to dig up a hole and hide inside. She was ghostly pale, and her eyes still hadn't managed to lose the hunted look of fear. Her heart leaped to her throat when Isane put her hand on her shoulder.

"Deep breaths, Seree-chan."

"I... Uh..."

She tried to breathe deeply, in and out, hoping to find her voice. It wasn't just that she had never been chewed-up like that before in her whole life, even as far as her academy days, she hadn't even imagined it was possible to get chewed-up like that. She had explained everything to the Captain, about Yaso and all she hadn't put in her reports. And why she had left Soul Society in the dead of the night like that. Sympathy or understanding were irrelevant to the fact that she had broken so many protocols of the Gotei 13, at a time when she had been brought back specifically to be kept in protected custody because she was being targeted, and when she had been told very clearly what she should and shouldn't do.

It was even worse than when she had walked into Yaso's mother's room. She thought that was a big screw-up already, but she was feeling a thousand times worse now. And the fact that she felt worse made her feel worse about feeling worse than that time. Which made her head hurt.

"You still would do it again?" Isane asked, not completely uncharitably. She was still unhappy about the rather eventful night, but Captain Unohana had already done a thorough job.

"Yes."

Realizing what she had just said, Seree snapped her head up and looked around, expecting Captain Unohana to show up and give her some choice words about her stubbornness. Isane looked down at her, surprised, then smiled and shook her head.

What a girl.

Colour had returned to her face when they reached the cells, although she still looked rather downcast, hair falling over her face and shoulders slumping down. Isane locked the cell and smiled, trying to cheer her up a bit.

"Only two weeks. I'll have a list of extra duties for you after that, so don't worry too much, okay?"

"This won't look good on my resume, will it?" Seree asked, dropping on the cot with a soft plop.

"I don't know about that. I can remember some of the officers getting into a lot more trouble."

"With Captain Unohana?"

"Oh yes." Isane grinned. "A lot worse."

Two whole weeks. Seree felt better after some time about her little adventure, but it was two weeks without seeing Yaso. She shook her head. She had decided it was a good thing to stay away for a while, hadn't she? Yes, it was definitely a good thing. Whoever Yaso was talking with when she snooped, he said he liked her because she let him be on his own when he needed it. It was a good thing.

The Hell Butterfly came fluttering through the window and landed on the finger Seree offered it.

"Come here to cheer me up?" Seree asked, cracking open another feed ampoule. She had taken a fistful of them when she fed them in case she spent some time in the real world with that stolen one, and now she was glad she had. "Thanks!"

Two weeks without Yaso.

It was much later in the afternoon that Yaso found himself walking aimlessly around town, dressed in a pitch black suit with white shirt and black tie, and carrying his katana on his back inside its bag. The day had been an emotional rollercoaster. His mother's funeral.

It had been a small and dignified ceremony, with some old family friends whom he had barely seen since his father died. When she was still herself. The condolences were heartfelt, and it all had stirred many memories of the past. All the wonderful anecdotes of why she was so well loved. She was not just kind and caring, she also had a childish mischievous streak that had fuelled so many good times. His father had always reacted as expected, outraged, scolding, yet so harmlessly and intentionally over the top that he sometimes thought he did it on purpose to encourage her. He did, in fact, confessed that to Yaso, but asked not to tell his mother.

As if she didn't know.

Lots of laughs.

Happy childhood.

Yaso sighed. Maybe his parents had met again in the afterlife. His thoughts turned like a compass arrow to Seree and the night before. He asked himself if there really was an afterlife.

Shit.

"Aaah, you came to train dressed like that?"

"Huh?"

Yaso raised his eyes and looked around, confused. It took him several seconds to recognize where his feet had taken him without thinking; the Urahara shop, and Jinta was looking at him like he had grown a second head.

"Jeez man, who di-"

A smack to the back of the head silenced him as Yoruichi walked past him.

"So you came back." She spoke with a calm voice.

"I didn't even notice where I was walking."

"Really?" Yoruichi raised her eyebrows, surprised. "So you're carrying that..." She pointed at the katana.

"Seree made me promise her I'd carry it." He sighed, prompting a smile from Yoruichi.

"Want to come in?"

She waved for him to follow, and led him to the room at the back he knew well. They waited for the tea, and Yoruichi let him get comfortable before saying anything, or rather before merely prompting him with a look. Yaso was still amazed at how expressive Yoruichi could be without saying a word.

"My mother." He answered softly.

"My condolences." Yoruichi replied.

"Thanks. It wasn't unexpected but even then..."

"Of course. It's never easy, expected or not." Yoruichi sipped and looked at Yaso, then gestured at the sword bag he had left propped against the wall. "Want to have a go at it? A bit of distraction may help."

"You think?" He didn't look up.

"Trust sensei." She smirked.

"Well, it's not like I'm dressed for the occasion."

"Heh, don't worry, I can fix that."

A few minutes later, Yaso emerged with the clothes Yoruichi had gotten him. A blue undershirt and a white kosode with blue stripes along the arms and two symbols he didn't recognize on the chest, blue hakama, and a pair of white socks and old style waraji for the feet. And of course, his katana, tucked under a white sash. The whole think looked like the uniforms the Shinigami were running around in. Yaso sighed at his own ridiculous thoughts.

What the hell am I doing again?

"Ooh, Itou-san!" Urahara greeted him when he emerged. "You decided to rejoin the madness?"

Yaso gave him a very long look, with a more than uncomfortable silence. Finally, he spoke in a flat voice.

"That's not even one bit funny."

"It wasn't supposed to be, although I have to say you offered little way of knowing it'd be inappropriate, before now that is." He finished with a grin. It wasn't mocking or amused, it was a knowing grin. "You still can't believe your eyes?"

"What did Seree tell you?" His voice had suddenly taken an icy edge, but Urahara dispelled it immediately.

"I haven't spoken to her since you two left together. Your reactions are far more eloquent." Urahara's face looked more serious, and without losing the grin, it dropped all the goofyness it had carried. "You are no ordinary human."

"I know." Yaso grated.

"I don't mean it like that." Urahara pointed at Yaso's chest with his cane. "There is some power inside you, of that there is no doubt. You either had it all your life, or you acquired it later. But it's you who has to discover what it is. And for that you first have to accept it."

"Really. So if you know so much, why don't you tell me what it is?"

"That's what we're doing!" He replied cheerfully, raising his closed fan to his face. "You feel something when you take that in your hands, don't you?" He pointed at the katana with his fan. "How things make sense, remember? If you won't trust me, us, then at least you can trust that, and see where it takes you."

Yaso looked at the sword tucked under the sash. That was true. Whether everything else was real or not, with a weapon in his hands he never felt conflicted, or hesitant. His very core of being felt that everything was in its proper place when he did it.

"When did you start training iaidō?" Urahara asked offhandedly, like he was talking about the weather.

"It didn't start until two years ago." Yaso replied, leaping three questions ahead and prompting a smile from Urahara's lips. "Even if my brain went down the crapper." He tapped the handle of the katana affectionately. "Even then, whenever I took a bokken, or a sabre, everything felt fine."

"And before that?"

"It was just fun, but nothing so special." He looked up at Urahara and shrugged. "Just something I enjoyed doing."

"So, What changed?"

"A scientist, huh?" Yaso asked, with half a smile. "Always wondering what's different. Well fine, I left my old dojo when I beat my master in a match and the rest of the students beat the crap out of me for it. I still practised alone for a while, but finally stopped and went to the fencing club by the Kurosaki clinic."

"Two years ago." Urahara repeated, filing the fact away in his head. "You went often to the Kurosaki clinic?"

"Huh?" Yaso looked surprised by the seemingly unrelated question. "Well, he's the one who patched me up when I was beaten up, so I did spend some time in there. I've gone a few more times after that, why?"

"No, no reason, just curious."

"No reason my ass! There's always method to your madness."

It had come out somewhat forced, and even then Yaso's grin looked rather uncomfortable on his face. But it was clear he was trying, struggling but trying. Yoruichi looked more surprised than Urahara, but both of them grinned back at him.

"Ichigo is a magnet for trouble." Yoruichi answered.

"Worse than Seree?"

"You have no idea..."

Yaso looked at Yoruichi's smile, then at the grin on Urahara's face as he nodded, and couldn't stop himself from laughing.

"You two..."

"Hold that thought and let's go downstairs, Yaso." Yoruichi interrupted. "I don't expect you to come around overnight, but let's see how you feel with a sword in your hand."

It was by far the most fun Yaso had had in a long time. Every time he had come into that humongous room, he had always done so with the distinct feeling that he was just indulging into a fantasy. He wasn't sure how much of it was real, but he knew at least some of it had to not be. He was always thinking of his mother's illness, and the few flashes of his great grandmother in the hospital. But not that night. He had all the freshly revived memories of the fun times with both his parents. He had started doing iaidō because of a stupid TV cartoon, but his mother had encouraged him all the way through, she merely loved how happy he looked when doing it.

Yoruichi, devilishly fast as she was, was pulling her punches a lot, but her speed not so much, and was pushing Yaso to the limit, and then some. He didn't care. It couldn't be real. Or maybe it was. He didn't care anymore. Maybe that's what had happened to his mother. Maybe the sweet memory of his father was just better than the grim reality of his death. He didn't feel resentment towards her though. He understood. She had given him a wonderful childhood and so many memories, why was he stuck with only the sad ones?

To hell with it! He was tired, tired of second guessing, tired of the constant nagging doubts, of catching himself every second. If it was real, it was. If it wasn't, then heck, much better than the reality where those you consider your friends may ambush you in a dark alley and beat you up to within an inch of your life.

And in this reality, he could fight back.

He was, however, so distracted by those thoughts that Yoruichi didn't hesitate to make him take a mouthful of dirt with a well placed sweep as a lesson.

"Feeling better?" She asked with a grin, looking at Yaso contort in pain on the floor and laugh softly at the same time.

"Sensei, you have no idea."