Disclaimer: Still not in ownership of any of these fictional properties. Naruto and Bleach are not mine, and neither are all of their sweet, sweet royalties. Alas.


Uzumaki Naruto and cats did not get along. Going as far back as his pre-Genin days scrounging in the alleys for scraps, when Naruto had found himself in direct contention with the feline populace of Konoha over the half-eaten remains of whatever-restaurant's garbage bin contained. Then as a Genin, tracking down and attempting to murd- contain and deliver the Daimyo's wife's cat Tora, suffering claw marks and indignity every three weeks. Well, perhaps not every three weeks; perhaps not always the Daimyo's wife's cat.

Upon his inauguration as Hokage, Naruto had finally been let in on the secret of the dreaded "Tora Capture Mission". A secret that, upon his learning of it, had sent Naruto into a fit of enraged, bubbling laughter and left the carving of the Third Hokage's face upon the monument short of his dignified nose (he had paid out of pocket for a Jonin specializing in Doton techniques as well as a team of sculptors to rectify it a few days afterward). That had been before the war, when there had still been healthy Jonin within the Village to employ.

The real trouble hadn't come along, however, until the Bijuu had merged into Naruto's consciousness and he'd met Matatabi, the Two-Tailed Nekomata. The following decades after Naruto had formed that telepathic link with the forces of nature that were the Tailed Beasts had not been filled with conversation. It wasn't that they were unwilling, necessarily, but the Bijuu had a few centuries of stretching their legs to catch up on and Naruto had had to learn how to stop acting purely on impulse and believing in good intentions. He remembered that Shikamaru had demanded restitutions, citing that he'd gained at least two of his wrinkles from breaking Naruto of "his blind faith in shinobi of all people". At that time, Shikamaru had still possessed both of his eyes and Temari hadn't been forced to leave Konoha in order to sustain the western front after Baki had lost his head to that team from Iwa; what had been their names? Not Daichi, maybe Denkei? Daikimoto.

No, that isn't right… what did it start with? Shikamaru would know, where is that slacker anyway? Shikamaru who? Am I Drifting again?

Regardless, Naruto's trouble with cats hadn't culminated until Matatabi had resumed her role as Queen of the Dead. She may not have always utilized what he had come to refer to as the "Bijuu Space", but that didn't stop her from pestering him with her subordinates, all of whom walked on four legs and held a penchant for knocking things off of his desk. Someone important to him had drawn a sarcastic parallel toward their attempting to gain his attention through annoyance and his own reliance upon that same strategy when he had been a child.

Nara Shikamaru! That son-of-a-bitch, I bet he let the damn thing in! Just wait until he gets back, I'll show him troublesome!

"… assure you that you will be treated well, and shall be given a temporary room within the Seireitei for however long your stay may be… You may not have realized it, Uzumaki-san, but being the guest of Yamamoto-sama brings with it a number of benefits that- were you even listening to me?" While its tone had sounded like a script reading initially, the cat broke character when it thought that Naruto had stopped paying attention and unfocused his eyes to adopt a far-off, lost kind of look. Of course, Naruto had been paying attention and the look in his eyes was simply that, a thing that was adopted to further the image of someone not-all-there; however, the talking cat was none the wiser and that could only bode well for Naruto's position in the Game.

Classic Matatabi, always being a pain in his ass, sending her feline friends to attempt to woo him toward some decision or another. He didn't mind it, however much of a pain it sometimes became. It allowed him practice, kept him sharp. She didn't always send the most capable players, but if it allowed him the chance to better educate them in the Game, well, that was mutualism at its best.

"Oh man, I'm sorry Cat-san, there was this cloud over that roof there, see, and it looked like an elephant with eight legs wearing a crown! Crazy, right?" Naruto made sure to put on his best congenial smile and chuckle reassuringly while he said it, then continued, "Almost as crazy as a cat trying to convince me to join the same death cult that I told two grown men I wasn't interested in." Derision was the key for the second part. Proud personalities would get upset at his dismissal which would compromise their composure. If they were worth more than a ryo, they'd rebut with either factual sarcasm or otherwise reset and reiterate their point. An attack at his attention span would only draw them into his own flow, allowing him to quickly put an end to or otherwise distract from any continued meaningful discussion, giving him an out.

Of course, those were thoughts and reactions best read upon a human face, not a cat's snout. Reading an opponent through the tone of their words and reading an opponent through reaction were two separate things. The cat could speak with intonation, its words possessed a feeling and carried intent. But the only physical reaction he was able to take note of were the narrowing of its eyes and the occasional twitch of its nose, and that could mean any number of things that Naruto couldn't currently gauge. As it stood, Naruto felt as though he were attempting subterfuge while his opponent hid behind a screen door.

I suppose it pays to be a quadrupedal animal in business dealings. I should let Kakashi-sensei know that for the next time he's on mission in Yugakure. Pakkun might be able to do something there, or when he's dealing with those new trade routes in Kumo. Drifting, what is…? I wonder what B is up to nowadays? His kids are probably-

"I was merely mentioning the possible benefits of your accepting the audience with Yamamoto-taicho. You stand a lot to gain simply by showing up, Uzumaki-san," the cat walked from its place in front of him to the left of his vision and then to the right, "I admit that I cannot understand your purpose in denying simply meeting with the man. You are not under any sort of binding oath, what could you stand to lose?" Rebuttal through logic, a gainful offer awaits, only fools deny advancing within society. Not strong, too reliant on the individual's view of "gain", but not not a viable approach. He would have to switch gears, bait some sort of reaction. A rookie made the mistake of outright calling one a fool for not taking an opportunity; an agent made the target question their own foolishness in denying an "innocent" offer. But who was Yamamoto? In any case, perhaps…

"Aha, I see your point! Y'know, maybe I could stop by for a visit. It's like the merchants of Kaze no Kuni say: a man in the sand takes water from all hands. It's certainly hard having no place to go home to…"

There was no better way to stall for time or, in this case, tease out further information than to appear to be leaning toward the offer at hand. In his experience, giving ground to an over-eager rookie often bought two new pieces of information. They became hurried, eager for a close in the dealings, another mission accomplished. On the other hand, appearing to capitulate so quickly would set most experienced negotiators on edge, would send any seasoned agent backpedaling; this move would allow him to truly gauge his opponent. The idiom granted the veneer of familiarity; it didn't matter where in the Nations he was dealing, everyone knew that particular phrase, he'd learned it himself when he was nine and waiting for the merchant at the fruit stall to distract the vendor from his wares. He'd heard it used again in his third year as the Hokage while discussing trade deals with that merchant from eastern Fire Country. Surely it would still be in use ten years later.

The Matatabi's messenger paced back and forth, the tip of its tail twitched every now and then in a strange pattern. It didn't curl back and forth so much as it twined in strange loops, never entangling itself, merely circling and almost folding, round one way and back the other, "Just so. The man in the field asks not for the rain, simply thanks the Heaven for sending it. You've been offered a day's rain for your crop without having to leave an offering. I'll accompany you to Yamamoto-sama's office this instant."

Well. That settled that. Why would Matatabi send an amateur to play the Game? That wasn't like her at all, she should know him better. And who the hell was this "Yamamoto"? Her new Speaker of the Dead? Naruto doubted she had replaced Reien as Gravecaller.

Naruto kept his eyes trained on the Nekomata before him and used his peripherals, as well as the rebound of his pulse of innate energy, to check for the rest. The results were as he'd expected, though he hadn't been expecting so many human signatures. Had she been expanding her influence to include living people nowadays?

Matatabi wouldn't do that, she wouldn't need to. What am I missing? My desk! Where's my desk? Gotta ask Shikamaru about my desk, the boys will be back soon, I know it I know it I know it I kno-

The Nekomata was speaking again, and if he weren't as well-versed as he was he might have missed the eager note in its tone, "you need only follow me to the audience. We've been waiting for over a century, surely you wouldn't allow us to waste any more time." An agent wouldn't rush the conversation nor double down on the perceived boon; a rookie saw a potential opening and pushed, hoping for the target to cave and follow along with the perceived benevolent action.

An empty feed bag lay crumpled by a bench seat. Another couple leaned against a tree, arms wound around their partner's back, the man of the two laughing at something she had said. An empty blanket lay strewn beneath a tree, an open book laid pages-down atop it. Children were laughing around the bend. The trees behind him were silent. Naruto eased the tension in his legs and drew upon the last of the tobacco in the bowl of his pipe. His bamboo fishing pool sat within arm's reach on his right. The cat existed even closer within his reach, still pacing.

"Y'know, you might be right. One problem though: I really hate repeating myself. Remind Matatabi once more that I'm busy with matters in Konoha, won't you? I won't be able to visit her or any of the new Conclave any time soon. Now, get the hell out of my office before I send you through the window." The cat's tail stopped, curled like a sheep's crook midway through its previous actions. Its head had tilted slightly to the side, its eyes curious or perhaps skeptical? Reading Matatabi's cats was always so difficult. The look was gone the second it had seemed to form, the feline's expression relaxed and once more focused intently upon his form.

"That's too bad."

Naruto bared his teeth in a grin.


Shihoin Yoruichi was not, by nature, a prideful person. She knew exactly how good she was – that was damn good and only getting better – yet she subsequently knew that there were those who were her better, as well as where she'd to improve to rectify that fact. As her father had said, empty boasting was the quickest introduction of one's foot to one's mouth, and eating a foot was not high Yoruichi's to-do list. So when the two one-time students of the Yamamoto-Taicho had approached her three weeks ago requesting that she reopen a long-shut mission file regarding a VIP in the Rukongai she had taken care looking through the file before agreeing to the request, telling them that they could anticipate a positive result within a month's time. Yoruichi hadn't thought it a boast with the resources she had on hand. A month was actually extending her true estimate of the time it would take by ten days.

Assigning a tracking team of the Onmitsukido had been her first step. Standing orders were to locate the target and then provide continuing intel upon his location, however changing it may be. That same team, once they had found him, were to begin building a profile upon the target detailing his habits, haunts, and general attitude. Step one had been accomplished within the week.

Step two had ramped up the number of assets in play. This was a man that had proven recalcitrant toward any form of engagement, beginning with conversation. He was privy to bolting at the first sign of pressure and capable of both fooling and, shockingly, out-fighting the talents that were Kyoraku Shunsui and Ukitake Jushiro, No mean feat by any stretch of the imagination, even if they had been restricted to less than twenty percent of their usual strength. The number of squads needed to subdue such a person had been carefully considered by her top brass, the agreed-upon number equaling no less than four. Twenty agents had been deployed to the target's location, observed by the now-relieved tracking team, and tasked with blending in with the locals of the District to await further action. The deployment and insertion period had ended a few days before the second week.

Step three involved the insertion of Yoruichi herself, shifted into the form of a cat to better avoid notice. Animals within the Rukongai were not a rare occurrence. The third step had been the easiest of all. The animal spirits that lived within the Rukongai were known for their tendency to wander within the Districts, there one day and gone the next, reappearing again months or sometimes years later. In addition, many people stopped to pet familiar strays and if those stopping happened to be highly trained operatives of the Onmitsukido receiving impending mission orders for placement around the target from a not-so-stray cat, well, none of the other passer-by would know that anyway. And if they did, they would have also been Onmitsukido awaiting those same orders. They were thorough like that.

Step four wasn't a step at all, simply a time and date and place for the when and where of each agent's placement around a relatively small pond within a park of District Twelve. Yoruichi had spared no expense in terms of manpower by employing her best infiltration team on site and keeping the other three teams, comprised entirely of squads specialized in the capture of targets, within a carefully planned net over the area. It was a loose triangular formation that best kept each team within sightlines of the target and themselves, developed by the top strategic minds of the Force to best apprehend a high-value, decidedly dangerous target. They, too, were the crème of the crop in their capacity to get the job done. Yoruichi had waited until she'd seen the target lean fully back, his fishing pole seemingly forgotten within the crook of his knee, his eyes closed, a pensive yet relaxed expression upon his face, and only then made her move.

Many animals had approached him and lay around or against him during their time of observation, dogs and cats included. This was, after all, a District of the tens, where such animals were commonplace as pets and not hunted as food for the starving inhabitants of the Districts beyond Forty. Wearing her guise of a black cat, she'd waited for the hound that had most recently occupied the space beside his unoccupied hand to leave before padding her way out of the wood and taking its place.

Her target didn't seem to notice her at first, so absorbed was he in his thoughts. However, after a few minutes of her chancing to nudge against his leg, the man had chuckled and dropped a willing hand upon her head. It was always odd to be pet within her form of a cat. For Yoruichi, it felt as though someone were rubbing their hand from the back of her skull down to her shoulder blades and then back up again. Not as a masseuse or a lover might with firm motions or gentle touches. It was far more awkward, like a stranger approaching her on the street and simply placing their hand upon her head before moving it back and forth. Yoruichi hated being a cat, but she knew just how valuable it was as a tool to go unnoticed.

Across the pond, she watched the patrolling agents as they went about setting up a perimeter. It was the middle of the day and it wasn't a weekend, so many of the regular crowd of park-goers would still be at work at this time which worked to their advantage. She'd instructed three, alternating male and female pairs to wander back and forth along the path and placed one of the older squad members upon a bench to be able to more immediately assist her in case the target decided to bolt. There was a woman reading a book beneath one of the far trees, unknowingly beneath one of her hidden lookouts, but she knew that another of her agents would entice her away from the scene before long. The children whose parents had brought them to the park to play were already being distracted by one of her men juggling various items while telling jokes just out of sight. A wind blew that stirred the branches of the trees behind her, but that could only help them for it would blow the scent of the woman hidden in the underbrush downwind. Yoruichi didn't know the full capabilities of the man beside her but, while she highly doubted he'd be able to track someone by scent, she was nevertheless glad for the unexpected tactical aid.

She was thorough like that.

A moment later, the man on the bench scattered a handful of seeds, some of them landing in the water. The perimeter was nearly in place. Glancing toward the book-reading woman beneath the tree, Yoruichi saw a relatively handsome man dressed in plain clothes with a book in hand speaking to her, gesturing somewhere down the path. It was good to see well-trained agents performing their jobs well. As the pair meandered around the bend, speaking animatedly, Yoruichi watched the man on the bench clasp the mouth of the feedbag in his hand closed. Perimeter in place, all clear.

The target seemed to come to at that moment, shifting the pole with his leg and going about lighting his pipe, then became absolutely still. Yoruichi was surprised but not overly so; he may have noticed his predicament, but Ukitake-san had warned her that he was as observant as he was elusive. She had amended that he was elusive because he was observant at the time, but the formation was already in place. It no longer mattered how elusive or observant the target might be.

"Oh-ho! I gotta be out of practice for it to get this close. Have they still not given up?"

Yoruichi took this as her que to address him. If he had enough skill to notice the encirclement, he would also know that an agent having been beside him all this time would mean that an attempt at escape was futile. She gave herself a mental pat on the back and shook herself free of the heavy hand upon her head. Another mission completed, another step toward her eventual promotion to Captain.

With a confident voice she spoke, "the two from before won't bother you again, Uzumaki-san. However, now that you're dealing with the Onmitsukido, it may become more difficult for you to decline your appointment." The mention of the Force always had an effect on the souls they were tasked with capturing or otherwise bringing to heel. There wasn't a soul in the Rukongai that hadn't heard some mention of the Seireitei's secret police squadron. They operated largely within its bounds, after all, and often made a public spectacle of bringing in some of the more rowdy Shinigami fugitives that had thought to hide within it. In a show of bravado, the target hadn't even flinched at the name, instead taking his time peering about with curious eyes. Yoruichi smirked, the action translating to a quick baring of a single incisor before her feline mouth closed again.

Don't bother, fool, you'll never find them. Though, if you weren't a VIP, they'd have snatched you up and dragged your ugly mug through the streets of the District after the trouble you've given to the Seireitei.

Yoruichi had long stopped counting how many shocked expressions she had experienced upon speaking within her shapeshifted form; in truth, she had never bothered to count for that number would be "all of them" and so she'd never bothered. Today, however, she would need to amend that statement to "all but one of them". The target seemed to take an animal being able to speak in stride, responding to her with an undoubtedly panicked attempt to buy off the Onmitsukido's attention.

She didn't spare much attention to his exact wording, but the attempt was always the same. In the end, the plea amounted to one of four things: "just have a heart", "please take this gold", "look the other way this once", or, her personal favorite, "but my offence was minor". The Onmitsukido was never called for a "minor offence" and none of the excuses worked. Ever.

That being said, their target this time was out of the norm in that he hadn't committed any sort of crime against the Seireitei, he was simply called upon by the Sotaicho. Late enough to get Yoruichi involved. Namely, late by over a century. Tardiness, even to that extreme, was by no means a punishable offence to someone not beholden to the Shinigami. This meant that, regrettably, she couldn't cut out his tongue and throw him in the Maggot's Nest for attempting to buy her loyalty. A pity.

Instead she would have to engage him with the official audience request as it was stated on paper in the mission file. She might have to entice him with a few bribes, due to his status and only if he played that card right. But he'd probably be too busy pissing himself with relief that they weren't here on their usual business to do much more than hastily accept her scripted terms before it got to that point. Locking eyes with the target, Yoruichi noted how unfocused they were and belatedly realized that he'd probably been overwhelmed by their appearance and was frantically trying to think his way out of the mess he'd brought upon himself. Best to forge ahead and keep him off balance.

"Uzumaki Naruto, my name is Shihoin Yoruichi, 28th Lieutenant of the Onmitsukido division of the Seireitei. I am here on orders to escort you to an audience with Genryusai Shigekuni Yamamoto, Sotaicho of the Seireitei, so that he may speak with you on matters pertaining to your potential admission to our forces. Please, do not attempt to flee. I know that you have interacted previously with Vice-Captains Ukitake and Kyoraku; however, I believe they were too heavy-handed with their approach. I assure you that you will be treated well, and shall be given a room within the Seireitei for however long your stay may be." Yoruichi twitched her tail into a specific pattern, a looping left-to-right that formed the sign for "infinity" behind her. The man on the bench stood and hobbled his way along the path, the empty feedbag forgotten in his wake. The glassy eyes of the target did not follow him, such was his fear. Or was it fear? Yoruichi had seen similar expressions upon those condemned who'd given up hope. She'd seen it upon those former Shinigami of the Onmitsukido within the Emerald Wing of the Fourth Division, driven insane by the pressures of hunting Hollows and criminal Shinigami alike. She had also seen it upon… but there was no way.

"You may not have realized it, Uzumaki-san, but being the guest of Yamamoto-sama brings with it a number of benefits that-" holy shit, he was actually ignoring her!

"Were you even listening to me?" The target appeared to snap back to reality at that point, his unfocused eyes gaining a sort-of clarity that was previously absent. His eyes still seemed to look beyond her, he continued to maintain a vapid grin on his face, and Yoruichi began to wonder if the target was capable of rational thought or if he was, against the claims of the report, an idiot. But the target was speaking, and that had to mean something.

"Oh man, I'm sorry Cat-san, but there was this cloud over that roof, see, and it looked just like an elephant with eight legs wearing a crown! Crazy, right? Almost as crazy as a cat trying to convince me to join the same death cult that I told two grown men I wasn't interested in," his response was delivered with that same vacant grin, his eyes unfocused, and Yoruichi forced herself not to roll her eyes. Great, he was actually an idiot. But it wouldn't do to lose her patience, the target had shown an aptitude for flight. Granted, she was confident that her agents wouldn't fail to contain him as the Shinigami before them had. That being said, negotiations had yet to fail and bringing him in peaceably would be far less work and far more assured a method than dragging him in by force.

Even if that was quickly turning into the method she would prefer.

So she reiterated what it was that she'd had to say in smaller words, so that his delinquent mind might better understand the terms. Carrot, meet Stick. He was a VIP, he wasn't mindless, he was only being stubborn, he wasn't mindless, and she would have to continue that line of thought or otherwise she would lose control of her transformation and slug him across the mouth. The Vice-Captains owed her big-time after this.

Her patience won out soon after. He still seemed hesitant, most souls put on airs to assuage their wounded pride and seemed to enjoy pretending that the idea had been theirs in the first place. It was their idea in the first place, no great bother, let's just get going. Classic runaway VIP. Breaking out a strange idiom in reference to some presumed location that Yoruichi had never once heard mention of within the world of the living or the dead? Decidedly unexpected. Was "Suna" the nickname of one of the Districts? It may require later investigation, best to keep up-to-date with the Rukongai dialect for anything, realy, but the meaning wasn't hard to understand and if replying with a phrase in kind meant she could hurry this along, even better. It annoyed her that he wished to draw this out with off-beat banter, true. But she also knew that she need only make another slight push to seal the deal, and if extending a "friendly" hand helped pat his ego, well, she wouldn't have to deal with him much longer anyway.

"You need only follow me to the audience. We've been waiting for over a century, surely you wouldn't allow us to waste any more time." There, quick and to the point. Maybe a little impatient, but hey, she had a lot on her plate. She almost wished it had been a simple snatch-and-grab kind of mission instead of the many weeks long ordeal it had become. In fact, had she possessed a better profiling upon him, it would never have taken this amount of time. From what Ukitake-san had said, she'd imagined a much more imaginative and illusive a target, a master of observation and subterfuge capable of dancing around two men that would go on to become celebrated officers with the Seireitei. Instead, they'd been greeted by a plus that showed no sign of noticing their intricate encirclement, no sign of realizing he was being observed for nearly a month at all, and now she had been forced to endure his pedantic attempts at buying time, like a greenhorn being taught the techniques to resist torture.

Yoruichi was frustrated and began to question the exact capabilities of her so-called "betters". Why hadn't Yamamoto-taicho given the previous Head this task over a century ago? It seemed to her that it would have been accomplished soon afterward. Shinigami simply didn't possess the correct weight when they made contact with their targets. Most likely due to the fact that Shinigami targets were Hollows and, therefore, unthinking beasts for the most part. zThe Onmitsukido's purpose was for contacts such as this. This should have been resolved a year ago.

Forcing herself to calm down, Yoruichi focused on the benefits of the situation. Two Vice-Captains would now be indebted to her, which was no small thing. Especially considering who those two Vice-Captains were; both held the ear of the Sotaicho, one was an extremely capable swordsman while the other possessed prodigal skill with Kido. Advanced lessons in either were the simplest of rewards she might expect. There were far more gratifying applications of an indebted Vice-Captain than simple training, of course, and Yoruichi began to delight herself with ideas of how she might best benefit from them.

Blackmail material on their other seated officers. No, too juvenile. A buzz in the ear of the Sotaicho the next time I need something done? That holds merit. Wait, no! Two voices at the table when they hold the next Council to request that-

Her musings were cut short by the voice of the VIP target, "y'know, you might be right. One problem though: I really hate repeating myself. Remind Matatabi once more that I'm busy with matters in Konoha, won't you? I won't be able to visit her or any of the new Conclave any time soon. Now, get the hell out of my office before I send you through the window."

Now Yoruichi's mind was whirling a mile a minute trying to put meaning to the slew of words he'd unloaded on her. Matatabi? Konoha? And what Conclave was he mentioning? Suna may not be slang for a District, perhaps another player? Was this the reason Yamamoto-sama had stamped his file VIP? Was he someone that held intelligence on some unknown third or maybe even a fourth, a fifth party within the Soul Society? With her mind in over-drive Yoruichi discarded any thoughts of what he might have meant by the "window" of his "office", chalking it up to a bad byplay of words on his parts. If the true purpose of this soul was as an informant of this magnitude then, damn the VIP stamp, he was coming with them now. Narrowing her eyes, she forced her tail into a rigid figure – curled right, pointed left, tip down. Target hostile, immediate containment, weapons free.

"That's too bad."

Her squads wouldn't kill the target. That had never been the plan, and they were experts in their field, stone-cold operators, without a doubt the best. They leapt from the tops of the trees behind him while the agents on the surrounding shore tensed in preparation for the targets flight. Twenty agents, accomplished members all, an impossible opponent for any five Third Seat officers.

Yoruichi took a step back, preparing to undo her transformation at a moment's notice in order to take advantage of any window of opportunity that her agents would provide. From this angle, she was the only person present able to see his reaction as the Onmitsukido pounced. What she saw made her blanch, bade every instinct within her to order off the assault were it only not too late. But she couldn't, not anymore, so she scrambled further back, nearly to the water, in order to undo her transformation and hopefully minimize the damage.

The target's body hadn't moved an inch. His head had bowed until his face was visible only to his lap and to Yoruichi. He was smiling. And that fang-filled grin promised blood.