Chapter Forty Six: Seiren's Soul

"Why is it that an extra class these days means getting up early in the morning?"

Thus Shunsui as he and his companions trailed down the steps that led to one of the bigger Sakusen classrooms, a plaintive expression on his face. It was three weeks into the new term, and the Seniors had soon realised that preparation for the Real World mission was nothing like the few meetings they had had relating to their camp experience in the Second Year. Whereas then there had always been the school and the staff to fall back on, this time they were expected to grasp everything for themselves and, with their departure date growing ever nearer, there was a faint buzz of excitement around all of the students in the Senior class. In less than a week they would be screened to go – and nobody wanted to be left behind.

That it would be dangerous was something none of them had forgotten. As a result, despite the frequent and sudden additions to their study timetable, none of the thirteen students in the top class had dared to slack even for a moment. This had brought a temporary peace to the animosity between Akira and Juushirou, since even if the Yamamoto boy had wanted to stir up a fight, there was no longer the time in the day in which to do it. They were, as Genryuusai had dubbed them, a good year – but there were still many things they had to learn before they were ready to be shinigami.

This morning's class had been summoned almost at the last minute through a memo read out at the evening meal the night before. That morning was supposedly a free period for the Seniors – a time some students set aside for writing up their assignments or notes and when those like Shunsui allowed themselves to sleep in – so it had been with mixed feelings that they had risen and dressed early to meet for a special class on konsou practice.

"At the very least he could've made it an hour or two later," Shunsui continued now, letting out a heavy sigh. "I don't mind sleeping through breakfast if it means getting an extra couple of hours rest, but sudden class announcements are a low blow. We've had so many extra meetings and things lately, and with Kaoru too I've barely felt like any time has been my own since we came back. I should have known having this morning would be too good to be true. Bu-u-u-ut I daren't skip any of the extra classes because of how scary he made out all this Real World stuff to be. Still, I'm not happy about it. Nii-sama will kill me himself, probably, if I don't graduate with you all in the spring, so I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place."

He stifled a yawn.

"And it's not a very comfortable place to sleep."

"Something tells me your sleep patterns are getting back to normal." Juushirou offered him a grin as he fell into step with his friend, reaching up to tie a loose band into his straggly white hair. "Though as it happens I almost forgot about it this morning, too. I was re—reading my notes from the last couple of lectures when Hirata came and knocked on my door – otherwise I'd probably still be in the Nest now."

"That does explain why you're doing your hair en route," Shunsui chuckled. "All right. I suppose it took everyone by surprise. But I thought we'd already absorbed all the details of this konsou business from those lectures at the start of term. We can't exactly do anything with it until we go to the Real World, can we? So…what's with the special class all of a sudden?"

"Maybe Sensei's going to get us to soul bury each other." Kai came up on Shunsui's other side, offering him a conspiratorial wink. "If I accidentally send you to Rukongai, Kyouraku, I'll send someone to find you, all right?"

"Depends if it's a place with pretty girls or not," Shunsui replied casually, and Juushirou snorted, elbowing his friend playfully in the ribs.

"That would probably be classed as a fail," he warned. "Stop it. I thought you were resolved to be responsible now you're a Senior and in charge of a deshi like Nagasata-san – have you forgotten that already?"

"No, but innocently talking to pretty girls and asking them the way back to Seireitei isn't a bad idea," Shunsui said simply, offering his friend a benign smile. "Besides, I don't suppose that's what Yama-jii's got in mind. I got the feeling that it would be too risky to start messing around with konsou in Seireitei just on a whim. Otherwise why would we only be learning it now, right before we go to the Real World?"

"Because it's something we don't need in Seireitei?" Juushirou frowned. "Konsou only works in the Real World – right? So what point would there be in knowing it if all we were going to do was flit around here?"

"But for the most part that is what we'll do, isn't it?" Hirata's voice made the trio jump, and he grinned, pushing his glasses up on his nose. "Sorry. I didn't mean to butt in. But the shinigami squads don't seem to go to the Real World a lot at the moment. That being the case…"

"At present it is the case, but in the long run, perhaps not." As they reached the door of the classroom, Ryuu paused, his hand against the metal handle as he turned to give his view. "I don't know this for certain, but I have heard that with the recent developments the Urahara have done in Senkaimon, a time when squads are sent to the Real World regularly is not such a far-fetched concept. I don't know whether it will happen in the next year or two – maybe not in the next fifty. But perhaps in our shinigami lives we will see something of it – and hence Sensei wishes us to have not only the experience but the knowledge in case such a time should come."

"The Real World is a problem," Kai acknowledged. "Kuchiki, stop blocking the door and let us in, all right? Nee-sama's talked about it too. There are a lot of Hollows in this world now, but that wasn't always the case. More than that, though, the reason there are so many Hollows here is partly because of an overspill of some kind in the Real World."

"A broken balance," Juushirou murmured, as Ryuu sent his roommate a reproachful look, but obediently pushed back the door to lead the way into the study chamber beyond. "Something like that, isn't it? That balance needs to be restored else this world and that one might wind up in a really bad state."

"Something like that," Kai nodded. "That's one of the reasons the Academy is here, I think. And…what is going on in here? What happened to the desks?"

"Maybe someone soul buried them," Shunsui smirked. "Perhaps they sent them all to Rukongai and there are now a bunch of confused Plus souls scrabbling around wondering what these funny wooden things are for."

"Do you think the people in Rukongai don't know how to read or write?" Juushirou looked surprised. "People in the Real World…don't they learn those things?"

"Possibly they do, but who knows?" Shunsui shrugged. "Besides, if a bunch of school desks suddenly materialised in front of your house, you'd be a little concerned by it, wouldn't you?"

"Raining classroom furniture," Kai chuckled. "Though I'm not sure how developed Rukongai is. I've heard that the Plus souls lose their memories when they're sent across – that's one of the reasons konsou is dangerous. They forget their past lives in the Real World – it's something to do with severing their existence in that plane."

"That sounds like something Ryuu would read a book on," Shunsui cast Kai a stern look. "Don't you begin to mimic him, else we'll be having words."

"As a matter of fact, I have read a book on that subject." Ryuu looked thoughtful, apparently oblivious to any implied insult on Shunsui's part. "And Kai is correct. I am not certain exactly of the scientific process, but it is a fascinating concept to consider. To think a soul from that world can be severed and transferred intact to this one in such an efficient manner. I should like to spend more time studying it – but there has been far too much for me to catch up on and so I have not yet been able to."

"Kuchiki, you're talking in a language I don't understand again." Enishi came up behind the young Kuchiki at that moment, clapping his hands down on the boy's shoulders and making him visibly jump.

"Houjou!" he exclaimed, and Enishi started, looking at his companion in surprise.

"You can't say you didn't know I was here, surely?" he asked. "My sister reckons these feet are so big you could hear them coming a mile away – don't say I actually startled you?"

"Being grabbed by a gorilla is enough to startle anyone," Ryuu muttered, but there was no malice in his tones, and Enishi chuckled, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "I wondered where you were – what took you so long?"

"I had a Kidou meeting right before this. Kazoe just let me go, and only because I begged and pleaded on account of this lesson," Enishi sighed. "Kazoe's stricter on me more than he is on any of you, I swear – but he let me come, so here I am."

"But we have no places to sit." Juushirou stepped cautiously into the middle of the classroom floor, glancing cautiously around him. "Joking aside, what has happened to the desks in here? It's looking more like an Ouyoudou practice room right now – but there's no physical combat involved in this konsou business, right? At least, not the soul transferring part."

"No." Ryuu shook his head. "It's a matter of making contact with the psyche of the soul and your own psyche – usually through the hilt of your zanpakutou."

"Things have been going missing lately, though." Hirata looked thoughtful. "I heard a couple of the maids talking the other week and they were saying that odd food supplies kept disappearing, or they kept being scolded for miscounting one or the other box of items. Perhaps someone took the desks as well."

"Who would steal desks?" Sora, who had just entered with Mitsuki at that moment overheard the end of the younger boy's words and snorted, shaking her head in derision. "That's just crazy, Hirata – there aren't any sneak thieves at the Academy, unless you want to blame this on giant sized mice."

"Hollow rodents, maybe?" Shunsui asked blithely. "What do you think happened to the desks then, Sora? Because they're not here."

"Probably they got moved out for the purpose of the class. Duh," Sora said bluntly. "Stop trying to see mystery in everything – Sensei summoned us here, so that's got to be the reason why."

Shunsui's gaze flitted to Mitsuki for a moment, taking in the suddenly guilt-stricken expression in her grey eyes as Hirata had mentioned the stolen food, and his own brow creased thoughtfully. He said nothing, however, turning his attention back to his Shiba classmate.

"You're very dull this morning," he observed. "We were just trying to lighten the mood, since none of us want to be up and studying this early."

"Speak for yourself, Kyouraku," Ryuu said disparagingly. "I have no problem with rising early for class – and by this point, you should not either."

"What are you people all flapping about?"

Kanshi pushed back the door, gazing around him in surprise. "Hey, who nabbed all the tables? Where are we meant to write things, on the floor?"

"Your guess is as good as ours," Juushirou shrugged. "I s'pose for now we're meant to just squat and wait for Sensei to appear."

"He did say to bring our swords." Aoi remembered. "Maybe we won't be writing this lesson. Perhaps it's something else."

"Either way, we don't need to all be on top of each other," Akira said frankly. "Amai and Shikibu are already settling down in that far corner, so we'll go join them over there. Shihouin, Endou – you're with our group, so unless you really can't manage without holding your roommates' hands, I suggest you come with us. It'll save time later, since we're still supposed to be going over preparation work for when we leave."

"Thanks for the warm and friendly invite, Yamamoto." Kai cast Hirata a resigned glance, then shrugged. "All right. We're coming. You're probably right – the last few Sakusen classes we've had Sensei's split us himself, so we might as well do the job for him."

"I suppose so," Hirata sighed. "We'll talk to you guys later, Juushirou-kun."

"And then there were six." As their two companions headed off to join their group, Shunsui dropped down onto the tatami mat floor with a sigh. "Well, Anideshi? It looks like we're following your advice and squatting. I think I hear Sensei coming, so let's at least pretend to look industrious."

"I suppose so." Juushirou followed suit, gesturing for the rest to do likewise. "Though what we're meant to be industrising about I'm not sure. We didn't have anything left over to discuss, did we?"

"Industrising is not a word, Ukitake," Ryuu said reprovingly.

"But you know what I mean," Juushirou was not to be swayed. "There's only so much theorising we can do anyway. We did safety drill training yesterday, and that was straight forward. But until we're actually there, none of us really know what we're going to be facing."

"And so long as you keep that idea in mind, Juushirou, I think you'll find the task ahead an easier one to manage."

Genryuusai's voice prevented any of the rest of the group from responding, and he cast the suddenly discomfited Juushirou a wry smile, padding slowly and carefully between the two groups to the front of the room. "Ah, I see that the desks have been moved, just as I instructed. Good, good. We won't have to waste time."

"Sensei, what is this morning's class about, please?" Naoko put in from her place beneath the window. "Are we having another lecture on konsou? Why did the desks need to be moved, if that's the case?"

"This morning's class is not a lecture. I believe I told you that it would be a practical lesson of sorts," Genryuusai said calmly.

"We really are going to soul bury each other!" Hirata and Kai exchanged looks, and Genryuusai laughed.

"No. Not exactly," he said with a smile. "Konsou is a technique which should only ever be used on Plus souls and then only in the Real World. There are very strict regulations guiding us in these areas, because we're dealing with the fundamental make up of more than one world. You've all realised I think from the lectures so far that this technique is an important one – but not one you should be messing around with foolhardily. It's objective is to transfer spirit matter from the Real World to Seireitei."

"Sensei, how does that really help the balance, though?" Enishi's brows knitted together. "Surely if all we do is send souls here, this world is gonna get really heavy and outweigh the other one. And when that happens…won't they all crash together?"

"If you think about it logically, Enishi, you'll realise that's not the case."

Genryuusai hovered his hands briefly around the wooden stick that was always at his side, and a few gasps went up from around the classroom as the wooden veneer shimmered and disappeared, revealing the hard hilt and shimmering blade of a pristine zanpakutou. "If a soul dies in the real world, then that spirit is transferred to this one. When a soul dies in this world, it becomes spirit matter and therefore breaks down and becomes part of our surroundings. This world can regenerate spirit matter very easily – and the vast majority of its make up is comprised of reiatsu-based molecules of one sort or another. Some are static and some are not. However."

He tapped Ryuujinjakka pensively on the ground for a moment, then,

"In the Real World, there is no such way of generating spirit matter," he said softly. "Unlike this world, that one is based on mineral compounds instead. This means that without our world, that world cannot continue to exist. When a life is about to be born into that world, spirit matter is drawn from this world to form that new life. And then when that life ends, the spirit matter must be returned here in order for the cycle to start again."

He fixed Enishi with a thoughtful look.

"That was one of the things we touched on briefly in Sakusen last semester," he added, "but now you're coming to learn this technique, understanding the importance of that balance is even more important."

He swung Ryuujinjakka around so that the hilt of the sword was facing out towards the class.

"All of you are aware, I think, of what this is," he said quietly. "I have no intention of releasing my sword even to its most basic unsealed form, because to do so would cause all of you a good deal of danger. However, I don't need to release Ryuujinjakka to demonstrate today's class. Please, all of you, draw your swords from their sheaths and lay them across your lap – just as you did the first time you were encouraged to meditate with your spirit in order to forge a stronger bond of communication with them."

"Sensei, what about me?" Shunsui asked ruefully. "I've two blades, and only so much lap to give."

"Hrm." Genryuusai's eyes narrowed beneath the heavy bristles of his snow white brows, then he nodded, setting his own sword aside and moving across the chamber to where Shunsui sat.

"Please give them to me," he said quietly, and Shunsui obliged, sliding first Seibara and then Amaki from their sheaths and holding them out.

The old man took them carefully in his expert grip, running a wizened finger over the ends of the sword hilts and then handing them back.

"In your case, it doesn't seem to matter which sword you choose to use," he reflected. "You are unique in this regard, Shunsui, so the manner in which you bury souls may prove to be different again when you come to actually reach the real world. However, from what I can tell, both your swords have the potential to carry out a successful konsou. You don't need to have the weapon released in order to complete this task – so for the time being, you might want to just choose one."

"If it's all right, I'll keep both out," Shunsui shook his head. "I don't think I could stand the headache if one thought I was giving favouritism to the other."

"Very well," Genryuusai seemed amused. "They are your swords, so I'll leave it up to you. However, you might find it more difficult to focus on the both of them at once."

He turned back towards the class as a whole, retrieving Ryuujinjakka and re-taking his place at the front of the room.

"Konsou is not a combat technique," he said simply. "It requires other skills – skills of focus and concentration, as well as a good grasp of your own spiritual energy. A zanpakutou does not have to have a shikai form to be able to complete konsou, but the person wielding it must have absolute control over their own aura before trying to interfere with another soul's. The majority of spirits you'll send to Rukongai will be far weaker than you in both aura and density. For that reason, there is a very great risk of polluting that spirit if you're careless."

"Polluting? How so, polluting?" Akira asked.

"A fluctuating shinigami aura is something that can be extremely dangerous in the Real World," Genryuusai said firmly. "All shinigami with a power rank above a certain degree have elements of their reiryoku sealed before they are allowed to travel there. The Real World is lacking in spiritual power of its own, yet requires it in order to properly function. As a result, the risk of stray spiritual energy tainting or changing things there is greater than you might at first think. This is especially true in the case of Plus souls, where you have an entity that has already been reduced to its component spirit parts."

"So in fact stray emissions from our own reiatsu might interfere with the emissions from the Plus we are trying to bury?" Ryuu asked thoughtfully, and Genryuusai nodded.

"Yes, Kuchiki. It is exactly as you say."

"Which is why we don't learn it till now," Juushirou murmured, running his fingers pensively over Sougyo no Kotowari's shining silver blade. "We have to have a good level of control ourselves before we start messing around with other people's spirits."

"Quite right, Juushirou," Genryuusai agreed, "but zanpakutou are clever beings. Unlike ordinary swords, the zanpakutou has a thinking capacity of its own – a fact of which I'm sure you're all more than aware. For the most part, too, the swords don't want to taint or be tainted by another person's spiritual presence. For that reason, many of them won't allow konsou to be carried out unless they are completely certain that their master or mistress is operating within their spiritual boundaries. If you look at the hilt of your swords at present, you won't see anything there. When a sword is about to carry out konsou, that changes. A particular motif appears at the base of the hilt – and that 'stamp' or seal is the key to sending the Plus to Rukongai successfully."

He smiled, hovering his hand briefly over Ryuujinjakka's hilt, and as he moved it away, Shunsui could see the glittering patterns of red energy that seemed to be carved into the base of his sword.

"The motif that manifests can vary from blade to blade," he added. "Ryuujinjakka is very old fashioned, therefore I would be surprised if any of you held swords with quite such an ornate mark. However, whatever form this seal takes, the important thing is its purpose, not its appearance."

He brought his hand across Ryuujinjakka again, and the red light disappeared, leaving it once more a normal looking sword hilt.

"Today's class, therefore, is about finding the focus and concentration to persuade your swords to show you that mark," he concluded benignly. "It sounds easy, but with no Plus souls here and in a class environment, I don't suppose it will be. Each of you have your own unique ways of communicating with your zanpakutou, so for each of you that method might be different. However, I want to see it from each of you before you're sent to the Real World – the monshou of the soul burial on the ends of your swords."

Great.

Shunsui sighed, crossing his swords over his knees and resting his hands gently across their intersected blades.

So I have to school this into two of you, not just the one?

It's not us that needs the schooling, Shunsui.

Seibara sounded reproachful.

We're able to do this any time we like. It's you who has to find the way to make us.

You don't think I have enough control over my spirit power to persuade you that it's safe?

You have a habit of leaving things half done.

That was Amaki.

We have to be sure. Sometimes flickers of stray energy seep out after you've been training with us – you've noticed it, haven't you? We've been working on a particular technique of late, and as a result at times shadows behave in a way you don't expect, even when we're not released. Those are the fragments the old man means. If you can't keep them quiet while your sword is sealed, it would be dangerous for you to try and bury a soul.

What would happen, if I did?

If we let you? Probably part of your spirit power would be transferred to that soul. If it wasn't strong enough to handle it, it might even become a Hollow. You might fail to bury it properly, and instead create a good amount of distress to the original soul.

Your spirit power is frighteningly strong, Shunsui.

Seibara added.

Of a level even you don't fully realise, yet. Perhaps you're not on a par with the old man's firebird, but you are strong. People with strong reiatsu should be especially careful when dealing with those who have little or no spiritual aura at all. You'd effectively be poisoning them – and I know you don't want that.

No. I don't.

Shunsui's brows knitted together and he slowly closed his eyes.

All right then. I understand and I'll do my best. Give me some help, both of you – and let's see if we can work out the best way to do this right.

"This morning's class was a heavy one."

Mitsuki flopped back against the wall of the school building, casting her companion a pensive smile. It was some hours later and, following the impromptu class on konsou the Seniors had been dismissed at last to their own devices, each one of their heads spinning with the theory and the spiritual concentration that they'd had drummed into them.

"I see why it has to be so perfect, but even so, my head's aching some. Yuuyugo doesn't seem too keen on burying souls. I think she'd prefer to heal them outright than send them somewhere else."

"But you did persuade her to make the image appear, even if for a little while," Sora pointed out with a sigh. "Hotarue and I are still not agreeing on how and when to use this thing. She's being flighty and difficult, as usual – she'd rather play around than focus on something this important."

"We don't have many days left till we go to the Real World, either," Mitsuki looked concerned. "What if you don't manage to make her show it before we do – will Sensei keep you back?"

"No…he said that it was a matter of time and practice and I'd probably be all right in the long run." Sora responded with a shrug. "Hotarue is high maintenance and keeping her concentrating on anything for more than a short time takes a lot of my energy. I'll keep working on it though. This isn't something that's particularly dangerous, so I might do some evening practice in our room, if you don't mind me occasionally yelling at her to shut up and focus."

"I don't mind." Mitsuki giggled despite herself. "I'll help, if I can. We are partners, remember – so it's sort of my job."

"Speaking of partners and of jobs, are you really serious about doing this?"

Sora peered tentatively around the wall of the school building, watching as the maids ran here and there carrying out errands that kept the Academy running behind the scenes on a daily basis.

"You heard Hirata this morning – they've started to notice the disappearing food, and I'm sure they're aware that there's already one blanket less than usual in the stores. Do you think we should lie low for a little bit? Shunsui gave you a very thoughtful look in class."

"It can't be helped," Mitsuki grimaced. "I'll have to take the risk. Even if people are noticing – when we're in the Real World, I want to be sure that he's at least safe and secure, even if I can't guarantee being able to bring him food."

"And although it's risky, for some reason I'm here ready to help you," Sora groaned. "If we're caught, Mi-chan, we're going to have some really tricky explaining to do. Aside from telling Sensei you've suddenly developed a blanket hoarding compulsion, I'm not sure what we'll be able to say."

"I did say you didn't have to come this time." From behind her friend, Mitsuki's words were soft spoken and she reached out to grasp Sora's arm. "It's okay if you don't – I'll go on my own. I don't intend to get you into trouble too on my – our – behalf."

"No, it's all right," Sora sighed, shaking her head. "I told you already that I'd help if I could, so I will. I'm in this up to my neck already anyway. I'm still amazed that nobody realised it was me who stole the fish from the kitchens yesterday. My hands smelt of salmon all evening, but even when Hirata started talking about stolen food, nobody started pointing at me and yelling 'Fish Fingers!"

She sniffed her skin tentatively.

"They still do smell of it, a little. And I've had two baths since then."

"Guilty evidence!" Despite herself, Mitsuki giggled. "But thank you. I couldn't avoid that extra class with Retsu-sama, and well, you know who still needed to eat. He's very hungry at the moment and hardly eating enough to rebuild his spirit power as much as he needs to. The injury he took in District Six must have been a serious one, because his body's still trying to make spiritual repairs and it's not able to get enough nutrients to do it properly."

"Mm." Sora's expression became serious, and she turned to face her friend.

"It's been at least three weeks," she said quietly. "How much more time can we keep this a secret? At this rate I expected something to have happened decisively within your Clan that would mean he could come out of hiding and go see Sensei…but so far, nothing's happened at all. I have no idea what's going on or why everything's gone so quiet but…"

"Senpai isn't guilty, you know," Mitsuki frowned. "Just because he's stuck in a cave and things have died down doesn't mean that."

"I didn't mean to suggest it did," Sora grimaced. "I don't think he's done anything either. But I do worry about what will happen to you if your family find out you've been shielding someone they want to ask questions."

"If they throw me out, they do," Mitsuki shrugged. "Now shh. We haven't much time to do this in. I know they did a fresh round of laundry yesterday, and I've learnt that the woman in charge takes a break about this time every day. For a short few minutes the room should be open – and hopefully that'll be enough time for us to grab a couple more warm blankets and a night robe without being seen."

"Hopefully," Sora echoed pensively. "All right. I'm ready when you are. Give the signal and we'll go."

"Mm." Mitsuki's eyes narrowed, and Sora could tell that her friend was not just checking out the area by sight but also by her senses. As a healer, Sora knew that Mitsuki's wits were far sharper than most of the other students in their year, and whilst she herself could not detect anything from the servants' buildings, her young friend was able to pinpoint with frightening accuracy how many people were in which place at any one time.

Being an old manor house, many of the areas inhabited by the school's serving staff were located at the bottom of the building, in the cellars and basement where they had originally been at the time the Yamamoto had used it as a family estate. However, Genryuusai had made a few adjustments when he had begun to turn the place into an academy, and as a result additional areas for the menial staff had been set aside on the far side the archway under which Sora and Mitsuki were now lurking. That arch, a relic from the manor's old days and a gateway that had led to the former stables – now towards the gymnasium and training grounds – was the essential dividing line between the parts of the manor where the students studied, ate and slept and the clockwork routines of those who kept the place moving. In the heart of this area were two of significance – the laundry and the kitchens.

For the most part, the students did not venture into these areas. There had never been a hard rule set in place about it, since when the school had begun its students had all been from noble houses who would not have even dreamed of venturing into serving quarters. On occasion students had been assigned punishment duties inside one or other of these busy bustling hubs of activity, but in general the serving staff were able to get on with their work without too many interruptions from the young folk who populated the rest of the estate.

Except, of course, when those young folk had other errands on their mind.

"Now." Mitsuki grabbed Sora by the hand, pulling her firmly towards the back door of the scullery. Sora stifled a yelp, almost falling headlong, but she recovered herself, and as the two girls sidled into the main building, they pressed back against the wall, listening to the sounds of merry chatter as two or three young maidservants set about their daily routine.

Soon the hallway fell quiet, and Mitsuki turned to glance at her companion, nodding her head firmly. With a resigned grin, Sora obediently followed her companion past the identical wooden doors to the wide double door at the furthest end of the corridor. Mitsuki put her hands gently against the wood, pausing for a moment as if screening the area beyond for any signs of life. Then she gave a nod of satisfaction, pushing the door carefully back so that it opened with the minimum of noise.

The chamber beyond was large and humid, with a vague scent of something almost herbal that reminded Sora of the fresh smell that lingered in the dorms after the maids had done their weekly change of the school bedding. It was a nice, somewhat comforting smell, but Mitsuki was already hurrying to the far side of the room and Sora gathered her wits, trailing across after her to where big wooden slats divided one area of the wall into a huge stack of shelves. Each shelf was labelled with a floor number and beyond that, the numbers for particular bedrooms, and Sora stifled faint flicker of guilt as she surveyed them.

"These are for tomorrow, I think," Mitsuki murmured, standing alongside her and glancing the shelves up and down pensively. "Which means they're dry. If we take one from this pile and one from that – it probably won't be so easily noticed."

"Won't that mean someone will go without tomorrow?" Sora questioned, even as she began to help her friend haul the heavy underblanket down from the first shelf. "Because if these are counted out and stuff…"

"I found out that they always have one or two spare in case of emergencies," Mitsuki shook her head, offering Sora a sheepish grin. "It's all right. They may notice one's missing here and another there, but they probably will just assume someone needed it for some other floor. Besides…"

She paused, only just stopping herself from crying out as the blanket came free with a sudden jerk, sending both girls tumbling onto the floor. The heavy fabric flopped on top of them, and Sora laughed, pushing it back and scrambling to her feet. She reached down to grab Mitsuki's hand, pulling her upright, and Mitsuki sighed, gazing at the blanket pensively.

"They're heavy enough," She murmured, "but the floor in the cave is so cold. If we can manage two, Sora…it would be best."

"We can. Come on. That one's hanging down slightly." Sora indicated one on the next shelf along. "I can't reach it, quite, but you should be able to. You pull and I'll stop it from falling on you like the last one – all right? Then we'll worry about how to carry them to the cave."

"All right," Mitsuki nodded, stretching up on tip-toes to grab the edge of the cream blanket. She gave it a little tug, and as it slipped free, Sora leapt up to catch it, bringing it down far more neatly than the last.

"You're really worried about him, aren't you?" she observed, as they folded the blankets up into smaller piles. "I've not seen you break rules so wholesale before."

"He hasn't got anyone but us at the moment," Mitsuki agreed. "And there's something else. The cave is cold and like I said, he isn't…quite right. Plus I know he's slipped out a couple of times to swim in the lake. I told him off about it the last time because he went back with his hair still damp and it's not as if he needs any help to make the conditions he's living in worse on his body. He's lost weight and he's been under a good deal of strain – even though he's holding up from it pretty well, there's still the matter of his fever."

"It still hasn't gone?" Sora eyed her friend in surprise, and Mitsuki shrugged.

"Each time I think it's going, it comes back," she said helplessly. "He may have a couple of days respite, but then there's a cold night or he insists on going swimming or something happens and then he's warm again. It's not a bad fever, Sora – but it's persistent and that can put a strain on the body too. In fact, I think it might be that very thing – because he's trying to rebuild his spirit power, his body's working to the maximum on limited resources. On top of that, he told me himself that he doesn't really feel that confident releasing his sword if there's trouble. He did it once to fight back a Hollow, but it took a good deal of his strength to be able to release Ginkyoujiki at all. My suspicion is he left Sixth before he was fit enough to, and it's not been an easy journey, so he's not had time to recuperate then, either. It might just be that this on-off fever is his body's way of protesting about everything he's putting it through – but I hope that if we can put extra blankets down on the floor and across the cave entrance to keep out the cold, it might help."

"And you said a robe as well, didn't you?" Sora lifted the lid off one of the large wicker bins, rummaging around inside before pulling out a generic white robe. "These are the things that Unohana-sensei uses with patients in the Healing Bay, right? One shouldn't be missed, and if she uses them, they must be good for sick people."

"I don't know about that," Mitsuki eyed it doubtfully, "but we'll take it with us. The clothing he had when he arrived here is filthy and even though I've tried to wash it in the lake, it's effectively wrecked. What he's wearing is fine in the daytime and in the sun, but it's not much against evening cold and autumn is coming. So a robe would be better – can you manage that and the blanket or do you want me to take it?"

"I'm fine." Sora dropped the robe onto her pile, hoisting the lot up with a grin. "I'm not tall, but I am strong. I can carry a lot more than this – probably more than you can, so don't worry."

"That's probably true," Mitsuki acknowledged with a sheepish smile. "That's what growing up with older brothers does for you, huh? An only child like can't compete."

"No kidding," Sora laughed. "The number of times Haku-nii threw me up into a tree and told me I had to get down by myself…I lost count, to be honest. And if I couldn't hold my own in a wrestling match, I'd have been dumped in the river a fair few times, too."

"District Five is harsh," Mitsuki reflected, and Sora shrugged.

"I don't mind. I liked it that way," she said reflectively. "And you're right. Being the youngest and a girl meant I had to work hard and toughen up. Otherwise I'd have probably got properly hurt. Nobody intended to hurt me – but you know, kids are like that. I always thought if I worked specially hard one day I'd get to dump Haku-nii in the river – but it hasn't happened yet."

"Haku-nii as in Hakubei-dono, the Captain of the Tenth Squad." Mitsuki eyed her friend speculatively, and Sora nodded.

"I'm really hoping I don't get farmed out to his jurisdiction when I graduate," she said expressively. "I'd take on almost anything else but that."

"Someone's coming." Mitsuki's brows knitted together all of a sudden. "They're heading this way. We shouldn't be hanging around chatting like this – if they catch us here…"

"Quick. This way!" Sora tossed the blankets onto the nearest shelf, grabbing her friend and pulling her onto the wooden ledge alongside them. "Lie down and don't move. It'll be kinda stuffy for a moment – so don't squeak or cough or giggle or anything. Okay?"

"What are you going to…" Mitsuki began, but before she could finish Sora had grasped hold of the blankets once more, pulling the thick cloth firmly over both girls' heads. Dropping down onto her stomach, she was relieved to see Mitsuki follow suit, and as the door of the laundry opened she held her breath, ears straining for anything that might tell them that whoever was out there knew they were around.

"Stupid girl." The voice of one of the laundry maids drifted through the heavy fabric, slightly muffled by the thick weave. "She'd leave her head somewhere if it wasn't screwed on – I swear, I'd get my rounds done far more quickly if it wasn't for idiots leaving their lists behind."

There was the rustle of paper, and then the swish of a uniform as someone padded over towards the shelves where Mitsuki and Sora were hiding. For a terrible moment, Sora thought that the woman might tug down the blanket that was concealing them from view, but just as she was sure she would suffocate, she heard footsteps moving to the next shelf, and then the sound of the servant leaving. As the door slid shut behind her, Sora gasped air into her lungs, fighting to push back the blankets. Alongside her, her dark hair muzzy and tousled and her face red from warmth and lack of oxygen, Mitsuki flopped over the cloth, taking a deep breath.

"That was close," She gasped, and Sora nodded, reaching over to help her friend up.

"But funny," she admitted, a mischievous twinkle in her green eyes. "Come on. Let's not linger here any more. Grab what you need and we'll go out the back way. I think I can lever that window up, and it'll be quicker then to shunpo down to the back gate."

"Who's on gate duty?" Mitsuki pushed back her hair, fumbling for the ribbon that had come loose in their frantic attempt to hide.

"Nobody, at the moment," Sora responded. "We should be good to go, so long as we're quick."

"Nobody?" Mitsuki was surprised, and Sora shrugged.

"Don't look at me. It isn't my shift," she said airily, "but there's nobody there. Maybe it's Houjou's – and Kazoe collared him again to finish off his Kidou training from this morning."

"That seems likely," Mitsuki sighed. "Poor Houjou-kun. Sometimes I think he's working harder than any of us this year."

"He'll be fine." Sora deftly leapt down from the shelf, moving to prop open the window before returning for her precious goods. "Houjou's lousy with classwork, but he's fine in the field. That's what'll count, in the final evaluation. Whether he can hold it together when called on to actually do things. Nobody purifies a Hollow by writing an essay about it."

She clambered out of the window, dropping her own burden on the grass and reaching out to help Mitsuki negotiate her own. "Quickly, before someone comes by and sees us."

"That's true," Mitsuki acknowledged. "Okay, I'm out now. And you're right. I'm sort of comforted that Sensei assigned Houjou-kun with Ryuu. I'm not really sure Ryuu should be going to the Real World, but I do understand why he wants to. It's just a risk…that's all."

"No bigger than the one you're taking," Sora pointed out. "Both of you are doing what you're doing for the sake of the family, right? Just in different ways. If Kuchiki can lure out the predator, then Nagoya's innocence will be proven, won't it? Then he can go to the school and speak to Sensei – and everything will start to settle down."

"Providing Ryuu isn't hurt in the meantime," Mitsuki's eyes narrowed. "It worries me what kind of enemy we're dealing with, Sora. Everything's gone so horribly quiet, just like you said. It's as though they're waiting for something."

"For Kuchiki to step through the barrier and out of Sensei's protection?" As they hurried through the forestland that led towards the mountain, Sora voiced the question, and Mitsuki nodded.

"That's what I'm afraid of," she admitted. "I think our trip to the Real World is really taking second place to the Kuchiki Clan's current crisis – and lives might be sacrificed because of it. I don't want Ryuu hurt – or anyone else, for that matter."

"Like Juushirou?" Sora's brows knitted together, and Mitsuki pinkened, nodding her head.

"Like Juushirou," she admitted. "I have a bad feeling about it, that's all. He's never yet been able to keep his nose out of trouble since I've known him – and this is exactly the kind of trouble he'd be stupid enough to throw himself into."

"But so far he hasn't got killed by this trouble-throwing habit of his," Sora reflected. "And besides, even he knows that he can't mess with the Kuchiki. He's too close to this one – by blood as well as because of where his family are. He won't put them into danger."

"But it sounds like they've already done their fair bit of putting themselves into danger," Mitsuki sighed. "If they helped Senpai to escape and that was found out somehow…"

"Nagoya's innocent, though. And soon, hopefully, they'll be able to prove it," Sora pointed out. Mitsuki shrugged.

"I think whoever's involved in this is pretty clever," she said uneasily. "Maybe they won't be so easily lured out – perhaps they won't be revealed after all. Perhaps they'll find a way to make Senpai's situation even more difficult – who knows what the future holds?"

"Even if they do, though, you'll stand by Nagoya, won't you?" Sora paused at the edge of the clearing, and Mitsuki dropped back alongside her, nodding her head.

"Even if nobody else does, I will," she said firmly. "I believe in this, Sora, and I'm going to see it through. I agreed to be Senpai's ally and that won't change. Whatever I need to do to help him clear his name and stay safe, I'll do. If it will help keep Ryuu safe in the meantime too, even better. Those are the things I have to focus on now."

"Well, don't go hunting demons in the Real World on a whim of your own," Sora instructed. "Advice from your buddy – keep out of it. Hopefully Sensei doesn't really intend on sending us there without someone to watch and wait to pick up incriminatory evidence, so maybe it'll be all right. Still, you don't want them hurt. I don't want you hurt. So remember that, all right?"

"I'll remember." Mitsuki shot her companion a grin. "And I appreciate it, Sora. You're putting up with a lot of my whims at the moment – thank you."

"That's what best friends are for," Sora sighed, shrugging her shoulders. "Come on. Let's go deliver our stolen goods to the fugitive, and see what he has to say for himself today."

Night had fallen, and in the sky above, an owl hooted, its shadowy wings cloaking the glow of the silvery midnight moon.

"So this is how the other half lives in District Six, is it."

Keitarou pulled his cloak more tightly around his body, gazing up at the manor house with thoughtful, calculating eyes.

He had waited patiently, watching and observing and considering every outcome in painstaking detail. For more than three weeks he had sheltered in the Real World, not drawing any attention to him or his companions as he waited for the furore over his gold-eyed companion's escape to die down and fade. They were all lulled into a false sense of security now, for the extra guards that had been roaming the District the night they had left were no longer as numerous. He had taken the travel token Eiraki had received from Seiren, but he had only had to use it once, and it had really seemed as though the people in the Kuchiki District were no longer interested in finding Ribari's killer.

Most likely they believed the assassins long gone to a place beyond this one. They had not thought that those killers would come back.

Such narrow lines of thought were unappealing to a mind like Keitarou's, but he did not allow them to hold him back. It was time to begin the next part of his plan, and so he had returned to Seireitei, his scientific instincts prickling as he debated the encounter ahead.

He was alone that evening, having decided that it would be far too risky for him to bring either of his companions this far into enemy territory. His own being here was enough of a gamble, for though he felt fairly secure in his ability to kill spiritless guardsmen or insignificant serving staff, he did not want to leave a trail of blood in his wake. Violence would suggest confrontation, and it was not confrontation that had brought him here this evening. On the contrary, it was something else.

Negotiation.

He slid his fingers beneath the folds of his cloak, pulling out the torn piece of parchment that Eiraki had given to him before he had left their safe camp in the Real World and had used the Senkaimon to return here. In the dim glow of the moon, he could not read the words written there – but he already knew the contents enough by heart and besides, it was the existence of such evidence that mattered most.

He smiled, returning the precious document to its hiding place. Doubtless it too would have a purpose that night.

He raised his gaze once more to the manor, his keen senses picking out the members of the household as they went about their business. He had never been here before, and nor had Eiraki, so he was somewhat hampered in his ability to navigate what was a truly opulent and sprawling estate. It had once belonged to the Kuchiki Lord, Senaya – but now it was the home and residence of that man's shadow son, Seiren – and Keitarou had been quick to notice as he had approached the property that his target's chief of staff was himself patrolling the main gate.

It was a key indication that the Lord himself was at home.

Keitarou smiled ironically, moving swiftly and silently across the courtyard beneath his thin veil of Kidou magic. He had not even had to try to conceal his reiatsu to the normal degree, since this place was full of those dead to spiritual power of any time, and Keitarou found himself wondering absently if that decision had been an act of resentment on Seiren's part – that if he could not have reiryoku, nor could any who served him.

Obtaining entry without a clear knowledge of his final destination was more tricky, since pinpointing Seiren's faint, flickering reiatsu was not as easy as locking into a more gifted member of his family – but Keitarou had been born with patience and opportunism in abundance and once again this paid dividends. As a serving girl left the property briefly to empty a water basin, he took his chance to slip inside, judging the layout of the manor carefully as he slipped through the web of tunnels that designated the serving quarters.

Seiren's study was probably some floors up, and so he mounted each staircase he found, noticing the improvement in the decoration and the brightness of the Kidou lamps as he went. Seiren was not famous for his acknowledgement of District rights, yet Keitarou had had to acknowledge grudgingly that the spirit among the menial staff was no lower here than in other places of similar status – and in comparison to the abject fear of the former Endou regimes, it was almost cheerful. Yet the most ornately decorated and patterned halls were reserved for the family themselves, and as Keitarou stood back to let a couple of young servants pass him, he sensed for the first time the fragile presence of his target's reiatsu.

The rumour was true, then. Seiren was at home, and Shibata guarded the gate to make sure nobody who should not enter, did. But they had not counted on the spirit power of one like him, and it was with a glitter of amusement in his cold brown eyes that Keitarou made his way slowly and leisurely towards the man's study, all the time reading the signals around him for anything that might bring him into danger.

There was none. Seiren was alone in his study, and as Keitarou reached the door, he was surprised to find no guardsman stationed outside it.

So he's not as paranoid for his safety as I thought he might be. That's interesting.

He frowned, sliding back the door with a gloved hand and stepping silently into the chamber.

At the sound of the door's movement, Seiren's head shot up from his desk, his eyes narrowing as he scanned his surroundings for any sign of an intruder. Keitarou's lips twitched in amusement at the man's spiritual blindness, and gently he closed the door behind him, taking a step and then another step towards the Kuchiki lord's desk.

If he so wanted, he could kill Seiren now and be gone without a clue or trace leading back to him. Keitarou's fingers hovered over his zanpakutou's hilt, tempted for the briefest of moments to act on that impulse and cause an assassination that would lead to further Kuchiki outcry. But just as he had begun to remove Chudokuga from its secure hiding place beneath his heavy cloak, Seiren spoke.

"Draw your weapon and I'll draw mine," he said softly, and Keitarou started, staring at his companion with a measure of surprise.

Can he see me?

Seiren got to his feet, hand tightly curled around his sword's hilt, and Keitarou frowned, gauging the situation carefully.

But this one has no spirit power, does he? The Kidou I used is a weak level because more than the barest touch would be unnecessary – at least, so I thought.

At his hesitation, Seiren's eyes became slits.

"Who are you and what do you want with me?" he asked quietly. "You might think I don't know you're there, but I do. Even if I don't see you clearly, I'm aware of where you are. Your spell is feeble and your cover broken. Explain yourself – or I will draw my sword and kill you where you stand."

"That's such an unfriendly greeting for one who came here simply to discuss a reasonable business proposition." Keitarou obediently released his grip on Chudokuga, flicking his fingers to disperse the haze of magic that had shielded him at least partially from his companion's view. "I am surprised, Seiren-dono. That you should see through my spell is unexpected. I was under the impression you lacked any spiritual awareness – have I misunderstood?"

"That matter is no concern of someone who enters my quarters uninvited and unannounced." Seiren bristled at this, and Keitarou's expression became one of amusement as he registered the fact that this was a sore point even so many years on. "Who are you and what do you want with me! State your name or I will summon my guard to deal with you!"

"Your guard would not be able to handle me." Keitarou reached up to push back the hood of his cloak, stepping forward towards the desk until he stood within striking distance of the wary Kuchiki Lord. "I walked right past them without a single one of them noticing me. It's unwise to keep your manor guarded by people who are ignorant of spiritual ability, Seiren-dono. Unwanted visitors might slip through the cracks unnoticed at any time."

"Unwanted visitors like you, perhaps?" Seiren's voice was cold, but Keitarou did not sense fear in the other man's demeanour. "I'll ask you again. Who are you and what do you want with me? If you came here to kill me, you'll find that even if I'm not a shinigami, I won't easily drop my sword and die."

"No. You and your brother share that characteristic," Keitarou said regretfully, and Seiren's eyes narrowed.

"You were involved in the attack on Guren-niisama?"

"Guren-niisama?" Keitarou repeated the word mockingly, shaking his head. "No. No, I don't think that style of address suits you or him, Seiren-dono. I don't think it suits the situation at all."

Seiren whitened, and Keitarou almost thought he felt the faintest stir of something deep within the man's soul as indignation began to shift towards apprehension and unease.

"What are you talking about?" He somehow managed to keep his voice level, and Keitarou shrugged, extending his arm slowly and deliberately to dangle the ripped sheet of parchment paper before Seiren's nose. At the sight of it, the other man cursed, reaching out to grab it, but there was no comparison in speed between Keitarou's skilful Hohou abilities and Seiren's own movements, and the scientist hopped neatly back out of reach, folding the sheet carefully before returning it to its hiding place.

"Where did you get that?"

"Maybe it came from Senaya-sama." Keitarou lounged back against the wall, folding his arms lazily across his chest as he gauged with interest the plethora of emotions that flooded through his opponent's eyes. "Perhaps he entrusted it to me before he died."

"Liar." Seiren's eyes were the colour of a thunderstorm. "Father would not have entrusted anything to anyone outside of the family, and besides, when he died, it was still in the Clan's possession. Whoever you are, you are not one who was in his trust."

"So you saw it after he died, then," Keitarou processed this carefully, "and yet you've kept it a secret. Out of support for your dear brother, maybe? I wonder."

"I swore an oath of loyalty to this Clan – to my Father and to my brother, neither one of which I intend on breaking," Seiren said stiffly. "This conversation is finished. Whatever your reason for being here…"

"Does Guren-dono know about the rather interesting piece of paternal testimony Senaya-sama left behind?" Keitarou's tones were pleasant and relaxed, and he made no attempt to leave the study, despite the growing unease flickering in Seiren's aura. "No, I didn't think so. You needn't even speak – I can see in your eyes that he does not. You swore an oath of loyalty to someone yet lied to them. I wonder how he would see things if that fact was to come to light."

A malicious smile played around the corners of his mouth.

"Maybe he'd see it as a motive for killing Ribari-dono. Ambition is a violent master and especially bitter in one who's always been kept down in the way you have."

"I didn't kill Ribari-sama," Seiren snapped, "and you can't frighten me with threats. I'm innocent, therefore you can't try and persuade me that I'm guilty. Guren-niisama knows it too – that I would never have hurt that boy, no matter what the provocation."

"I know," Keitarou's response was matter-of-fact. "I know who killed Ribari-dono. I sent them with that errand and they completed it to perfection. Therefore you don't need to protest your innocence with me, Seiren-dono. I'm sure that…woah there!"

For at his words Seiren had sprung forward, half vaulting his desk to reach the visitor with his weapon drawn fully from its sheath. His hand shaking with anger, he pointed it towards Keitarou's throat, and the scientist sighed.

"You have a hot temper," he remarked softly, and Seiren's brows knitted together, clear anger and hatred in his gaze.

"By your own words you killed my nephew," he said blackly. "I will hear your reasoning and then I will take you as my prisoner."

"I don't think you will." Keitarou lifted his left hand, lazily pushing back the sword with a weak Kidou spell. "You can't touch me. I told you. Nobody here can. You're the only person in the whole manor who seems able to even see me when I choose to use my Kidou. That fact makes me wonder if you've been lying. Maybe you do have spirit power. Perhaps you've been biding your time."

He shrugged his shoulders dismissively.

"Whatever the truth, the boy's death is to your advantage. In essence, my people did you a favour," he said candidly. "I'm not stupid – I know that you have a son too, and that he is now the heir to the Kuchiki Clan by a process of default. We should not be arguing about things, Seiren-dono. It would be far better if we were to ally with one another. I would ensure that Ryuu-dono's position in the Clan was beyond doubt –I am perfectly able of ridding you of the nephew that you weren't able to arrest. And I'm sure that, if you so wished, I could even help you remove your brother from the equation. This Clan does not belong to him, and you know it as well as I do. If you trusted it to me, I could eliminate him, too. Nobody would ever connect it to you."

"What kind of a person do you perceive I am?" It was impossible for Seiren to be any more angry by this point, his face red and his eyes blazing with indignation. "I already told you where my loyalty lies! Ryuu will be heir to this Clan, perhaps – but I do not seek to take advantage of anyone's murder in order to make personal gain!"

"And yet you will, won't you?" Keitarou said calmly. "By pushing Ryuu's claim, it's already what you're doing. I know, Seiren-dono. I've been watching very carefully. You can't pretend otherwise. You chased your other nephew away and into exile. That's the action of a lord serious about putting his son forward for the family inheritance."

He patted his cloak.

"And this evidence might be enough to depose Guren in Ryuu's favour, if you were to work with me," he said, his voice carrying a slightly cold edge. "But it would also be enough to suggest you're guilty of conspiracy. Whether you choose to work with me or don't, the same thing applies. I have the evidence to make you look a traitor, even if you do not want to be one. Your sensible choice would be to exploit the opportunity– rather than simply be used and discarded for being uncooperative. I don't like subjects who have no use or purpose – so think very carefully before refusing me again."

"There is nothing to think of. I don't negotiate with a man who makes threats against my family, who confesses to involvement in a kinsman's murder and more, who does not clearly state his name!" Seiren snapped back. "I will tell Guren-nii myself the truth that you hold in that document – and then you will have no evidence on which to plant suspicions in people's minds. I am not a dishonourable man and I cannot be bought or blackmailed. You should not have come here. You will regret that I saw your face."

"I suppose we'll see who regrets what," Keitarou murmured softly. "You may not realise it, but you have already played quite beautifully into my hands. You trusted implicitly in the young maiden I sent to beguile you and win over your trust, didn't you? Nanaki reported to me most faithfully about the help and support you gave her in escaping the manor. You believed her words about your nephew because you wanted to believe him bad – and you let your personal ambition and fear blind you to the reality."

"Nanaki-hime was…" Seiren blanched, and Keitarou nodded.

"Connected to me," he agreed lightly. "And it's only a matter of time before Guren makes that connection too. Conspiring with my allies is like conspiring with me, and I hold evidence that could lose you everything. I'll ask you again, Seiren-dono. What will you choose to do?"

Despite himself, Seiren was struck speechless, and Keitarou reached down to take the sword from the stunned nobleman's grip, glancing at it and then setting it down on the desk.

"A normal katana? I'm somewhat disappointed. When you managed to see through my weak Kyokkou I thought that might be something more, but I can see that it's not."

His eyes narrowed.

"I will tell you my name, Seiren-dono," he said softly, "and then you'll understand exactly what kind of a web you've stumbled into. There is no escape from me except if I choose to let you go – and I can wait hundreds of years if necessary to exact my revenge. I am not someone you can easily defy, nor am I someone you can stop. The wise work with me. The foolish regret it for the rest of their sorry lives. And I like to keep them alive – in order that they can regret it fully."

Seiren stared at him blankly, and a thin, humourless smile appeared on Keitarou's lips.

"Aizen Keitarou," he murmured, speaking the syllables slowly and clearly so that his companion could not make any mistake. "So now you know me as I know you, don't you? And perhaps we can dispense with this silliness and discuss the path ahead."

For a moment Seiren just stood there, numb and unresponsive. Then, as if something had drawn a curtain back from his eyes he reacted, horror and dismay flooding his features as he took a step back from his cloaked intruder.

"Yes. You understand." Keitarou was pleased. "You know that I'm not exaggerating when I say that I can remove Guren if need be with the minimum of fuss. I did the same service for Endou Seimaru a few years ago – unfortunately he was foolish and wasted the opportunities I gave him. But you aren't foolish, are you? You care for Ryuu a good deal and you want to see him successful."

He stepped forward, pressing his hand against Seiren's chest, and a flicker of Kidou light danced from his skin, strong enough to render the nobleman unable to move, yet not enough to actually cause him harm.

"I am a puppet master. I can make puppets of anyone I choose," he continued evenly. "Even great men like Endou Shouichi. I convinced him to take his own life. Maybe your brother would do the same, unable to handle the grief of losing his only son. I know deep down that you resent how things are. Your life was overshadowed and altered by the actions of your Father and those who surrounded them. Because of that, what was rightfully yours was stolen away – your spirit power and your status within this Clan. Why should you swear loyalty to them? They have all betrayed you by not even questioning how things are. Your father was the first – but there are others who knew and who kept quiet, I'm sure. Those who favoured Guren and ignored you. Would you not like to be in a position where people no longer considered you the shadow?"

His eyes narrowed as he detected the faint, flickering strands of spiritual energy, divided and lost deep within his companion's soul. A sudden surge of excitement rushed through him as he realised what he was sensing - the meandering vapours of another's spiritual identity, cast adrift from its anchor in a sea of black.

Interesting. I had heard his power was removed, but it seems not. It's been sealed, but not severed - I suppose rendering a Clansman no better than a man of Rukongai rankled against the great Senaya's pride. More, that ancient seal is already beginning to fray and come apart. I wonder whether that's just the natural time limitation of such a spell, or if something else has happened to break its hold. But that's why he could see me. A tiny leak of spiritual energy that allowed him to detect my presence. Well, if things are that way I might as well use that to my advantage too, seeing as it makes the game all the more interesting to play.

"They told you that your spirit power was gone, didn't they?" he said quietly. "That was another lie. They sealed it away inside of you, and told you there was nothing there to seek, when in fact it's been there all the time. I can feel it, Seiren-dono. It's humming and dancing, but doesn't know how to reach out and connect with the rest of your body."

"Let…go…of…me." Somehow Seiren managed to part his lips, fear in his eyes. "Whatever you say, I'm not…going to cooperate…with you – so either…kill me now…or let me go. I don't…intend on further…discussion with a…wanted outlaw of…Seireitei!"

"Cold words," Keitarou tut-tutted, and the glimmer of light around his fingers grew stronger. Seiren took a sudden intake of breath. Pain reflected across his features as he struggled to fight free of the Kidou hold, but Keitarou paid his attempts no attention, closing his eyes and focusing instead on his own aura and the gentle barrier of spiritual energy that coated every part of his being. channeling his thoughts, he slipped his fingers through the fabric of Seiren's clothing and into the flesh and bone beneath. Seiren's expression twisted, his mouth opening as if in pain, but no sound came out, and Keitarou's fingers prickled with energy as for a moment he allowed the threads of his spiderlike reiatsu to link together inside of Seiren's chest.

The next moment he withdrew his hold completely, and Seiren collapsed to his knees, heaving great gasps of air into his lungs. He fumbled clumsily about his chest, as though trying to discover whether his body was still in one piece or in working order, and something about the instinctive reaction to survive told Keitarou that whatever he might say, Seiren was not a man resolved towards death.

Which means in order to let him live, I might yet use him. Good.

"I didn't kill you, you foolish man," he said aloud. "I did you a favour. You're not head of the Kuchiki Clan because you don't have spirit power. That's always been the official version that everyone's believed. But it isn't true. You do have it. The threads I've placed inside of your body are spiritual ones – bit by bit they'll erode the seal that your kinsfolk put around your magic."

Or help it along, since it's already starting to go that way. Though you don't need to know that.

"Why?" Seiren managed to gasp out hoarsely, and Keitarou let out a chuckle.

"Because surely only someone like me could break a seal like that one," he lied. "The only reason I would do so without hurting you suggests again that you've been complying with me. Nanaki, your father's careless writings, and now your spirit power – it's only a matter of time before that awakens and returns to you the power by which you can claim this Clan. You can say what you like to Guren – the more incriminating evidence is stacking up against you."

"Was that always your intention? To…make me…your scapegoat?" Seiren demanded, and Keitarou shook his head.

"My plan has always revolved to bring down the Clans, beginning with yours," he said pleasantly. "I had thought you worthless to me except as a pawn soon disposed of, but now I've met you, I've been pleasantly surprised. The scientist in me is always looking for something new and unexpected - especially if it could be used to my advantage."

He smiled carelessly.

"Having a puppet take control of one or several of the Clans would be just as satisfying," he added. "It would allow me just as much scope for changing this rotten world into one where those who have the power use it and those who don't are cast aside. The best way to destabilise the Kuchiki was discovered by accident by Nanaki when she found the evidence I now carry with me. Oh, and there's another thing you ought to know about that. The one she saw reading it was your own son. Ryuu-dono has seen this document. I wonder what he believes?"

Seiren's expression flickered suddenly, and Keitarou's grin widened.

That was a clever guess. It seems Father and son have clashed already in some way. This family is far too easy to predict. I wonder that they've existed so long considering all their outmoded conventions. All they do is fall into the same boring patterns as each other generation after generation. Doubtless the son is the same as the father, and probably the living nephew the same as the dead. Really it doesn't matter who is killed and who is not. They're starting to appear much the same to me.

Out loud he said,

"Well? Your own spirit power will probably take a little while to resurface, and in the meantime, you need to plan what to do about it. With your own reiryoku, you don't need Ryuu as your security, do you? If he knows too much…I can remove him too."

"You lay a finger on my son and I'll…" Seiren's threat dissolved into a fit of coughing, and Keitarou bent at his side, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Take it easy," he said mockingly. "There's no sense in getting angry. You'll only flare up things your body isn't used to dealing with. Better to take it slowly – you're out of shape and it will take time. The seal will break down bit by bit so that you don't get overwhelmed. You should watch your temper in the meantime – since it might have an adverse effect on you."

"I will go to Guren and I will tell him you came here. Tell him everything." Seiren managed to raise his gaze to Keitarou's, though the scientist could tell that it was an effort. "And then demand he take my life and place my estate and all other things in the hands…of my son. You won't control me, Aizen. I'm not here for your convenience and I won't betray my Clan."

"I don't think you will." Keitarou sat back on his heels, looking thoughtful. "I had thought you wanted to live. Did I misjudge you for that?"

"No Kuchiki wants to live…if living means betraying the Clan."

"Tsch. How dull and noble of you," Keitarou wrinkled his nose disparagingly. "Very well. If protecting your own life is not important to you, I'll weigh in something else that is. Your son's life. Ryuu's life. How about that?"

"Aizen!"

In that instant Keitarou knew that if Seiren had not still been suffering from the after effects of the Kidou spell, he would have likely lunged for his opponent even bare handed, for his eyes were full of killing instinct, making him look quite unlike the man who had been at Guren's right hand for such a long stretch of time..

"At the moment he's safe and sound – in the protection of the old Sensei of District One," the Urahara said evenly, "but that can't happen forever. Ryuu will become vulnerable, and unlike you, he doesn't know who his enemies are. He may even believe that the person behind this is you, or he may believe it's his cousin, Shirogane. Either way, he doesn't suspect me and he doesn't suspect those who work with me. Therefore he'll have his guard down. And I can kill him too, Seiren-dono. Don't make the mistake of thinking otherwise."

Seiren stared at him, and Keitarou got to his feet.

"Think about it for a few days," he said simply. "I'll be watching you and seeing what occurs. I wouldn't try to test whether or not I'm bluffing, though – if you go to Guren and you speak to him or anyone else about this meeting, your son's life will be snuffed out like a candle flame in a storm. It doesn't matter to me if the whole of the Kuchiki is wiped out. I've simply offered you a chance to take control of things, since you've begun to interest me. I can as easily dispense with the lot of you – that works too."

He cast the nobleman a cold smile.

"Remember Endou Shouichi," he said lightly. "We'll speak again."

With that he was gone, slipping into shunpo as he moved swiftly through the estate and back out into the cool night air. Once there, he paused, remembering again the expression in Seiren's eyes.

His son is his weakness. Not his life. His son's life.

He pursed his lips thoughtfully, leaning up against the wall of the manor and pulling Chudokuga from his sash, raising it to tilt its blade against the light of the moon. It flickered slightly as the beam caught on the place the tiny missing fragment should be, and he sighed, running his finger over the silver surface with a look of regret.

If you would hear me call you, I could so easily utilise a man like that. Now I know what Seiren's potential really is, you make me regret that I had to leave there with only words and seal broken - such a puppet is less reliable even than Onoe. With his spirit power awoken, he has the right and the bloodline to inherit the Clan. Guren could be removed and through that puppet I could control the Kuchiki and destroy it from the inside, without anyone even needing to know. All of the blame for all of the recent events could fall on his head, and I could use him to declare wars on other Districts and bring them to their knees. But you won't let me, will you, Chudokuga? No matter how much I ask you, you won't let me release your Bankai into the heart of anyone any more.

He closed his eyes, as in the darkness of his mind a faint silvery apparition began to take shape, long shimmering strands of thread elongating and focusing into eight gossamer legs. Shimmering blue eyes gazed out from a finely furred argent head, and Keitarou frowned, allowing the spider to strengthen its presence inside of his mind.

You should obey my commands. I'm your master, it's not the other way around.

This world has rules, Keitarou.

Chudokuga did not move to acknowledge his words, yet its thoughts resounded through Keitarou's brain as though spoken out loud.

My power also has rules. I have given you all of it, so long as you comply with its terms.

I know.

Keitarou's eyes snapped open.

But in the past, withdrawing your spirit has happened automatically when someone's died. Yet although I can use my shikai to control Onoe – and probably to control or kill a thousand others if I wanted, I can't use the highest level of manipulation that I need to win this fight.

You know why.

The boy?

Yes.

He died but he did not die.

Keitarou grimaced.

And you're still inside of him, aren't you?

Yes.

But you can't reach out to him and control him?

No. Just fragments sealed away – but enough to prevent me from ever using Bankai again. You must kill him, Keitarou. Either that or…

Bring him back on side?

Whilst he doesn't remember, you won't be able to do that. My power can't awaken, because it has nothing to latch onto. It's dead and floating - but while he lives with fragments of my spell inside his body, your Bankai will remain asleep.

I see. He doesn't remember being manipulated by me before? Is that Genryuusai's doing? Or…?

No. It's not anyone outside. It's that sword, Keitarou. The sword is doing it itself. Even the boy probably doesn't know it.

The sword.

Keitarou's eyes glittered in the bright moonlight.

Sougyo no Kotowari? That zanpakutou of his that I liked playing with so much is the thing that's defying you and I both now?

It is.

It has some nerve. Such a young sword fighting to contain one like you.

I cannot break through so long as the boy doesn't remember.

Chudokuga seemed to be losing interest in the conversation.

Find a way to change that fact, and maybe we'll find a way through. Till then, don't speak to me of Bankai. You have other methods. Use them instead.

I will.

Keitarou slashed the tantou knife through the air, opening the Senkaimon and stepping into it with a sigh.

Perhaps it won't just be the Kuchiki bocchan I'll be seeking in the real world. I still have an interest in Juushirou - perhaps at last it will be time for us to meet again. If Sougyo no Kotowari has become strong enough to fight against Chudokuga within his soul, then it's a zanpakutou worth my continued study. And I like a challenge.

He turned to take one last glance at the Kuchiki manor before the darkness swallowed him up completely.

This way makes life interesting. All right, Chudokuga. I accept your challenge. I'll make Juushirou remember. And when I do, we'll see what kind of puppet games we can play!

Author's Note: That thing I fibbed about...

This chapter has the start of that thing I said wouldn't happen but...erm...apparently is happening, thanks to my characters' meddling around. I promise that when I told people nothing would happen with Seiren, I didn't know I was telling a fib. Unfortunately Seiren and Keitarou had other ideas, and so, erm, I renege on my promise that nothing will happen relating to Seiren's spirit power. I hope those who I fibbed to will forgive me my lack of foresight. I don't have the power to see even into my own characters' future, it seems...

and...The Interlude...

This week there are two chapters, but the second chapter should be seen as an "interlude", rather than a full chapter. It follows this chapter and explains things that some of you have been suspecting for a while.

The interlude is a skip back in time and will feature a character who has been often mentioned but who has never yet had a scene in the story. I'm sure that it won't be hard for anyone to guess who I mean when I say that the Interlude links to the Kuchiki family, and an event a century and a half before this story opens that changed the face of District Six irrevocably.

...On we go, back briefly into Kuchiki past once more ;)