Lifted Up Chapter 33: War Approaches: Poetic Justice, a bleach fanfic

Many people had died in service to Kyōraku Shunsui. On or off the field of battle, he commanded the devotion of his followers. A legend, they called him.

But this time felt different. And Shunsui wasn't sure why.

Waiting out in the hall, he looked up as the door opened and two nurses emerged. The master of the house conversed with them. They told him nothing he hadn't already known. After politely thanking them for their efforts, he then slipped silently inside to stand against the wall with arms crossed, a slight frown on his face the only indication of discomfort.

"Tōshirō? I–I want to go outside."

"We will, O-kā-san." Kneeling by his aged mother's futon, Captain Tōshirō Hitsugaya glanced back at Shunsui, who nodded in understanding. Leaning into the hall, he indicated someone should bring a wheelchair before going back to observing Shirabe's death vigil, feeling desperately weary as he did.

It wouldn't be long now. Even without spiritual powers, he could tell the old woman was slipping away. Her vision had faded to the point she could barely see a few feet in front of her. Most of her attempts at speech rambled only to trail off. She had stopped eating altogether; even her son's desperate entreaties could no longer convince her to swallow so much as a bite. Kyōraku reflected that people, whether in the living world or this one, often knew when their time was close. In the face of that, even a mother's love could only coax you into doing so much.

"Tōshirō?" his Granny croaked faintly from her place on the futon, fumbling for his hand. The boy quickly took her withered fingers in his strong young grip. That made her smile, and she became more excited. "Did I tell you? Momo came to see me!"

Ahh… that had to hurt.

Bewildered, the captain threw a confused look at Shunsui, who only shrugged helplessly. There were tears in Hitsugaya's eyes when he turned back to his dying parent and said in a voice hoarse with emotion, "Oh? What did you talk about?"

"She says… she's very sorry… about what she said… and did. And she understands if you can't… forgive her…"

"Granny?"

He had involuntarily slipped back into calling her 'Granny' again; Tōshirō must be even more confused than before. But who wouldn't be under these circumstances? Sorry, kid.

"Momo says she's happy, and that we… w-we shouldn't worry. She's going to be just fine. Just… fine." Here the old woman sagged back against the pillow. For a moment Shunsui feared she had left them. But then Shirabe added in a very weak voice, "You're both… such good children. I… love you so."

"I love you too, Granny," Hitsugaya whispered. Tears slid down his cheeks now. Kyōraku knew it was time to make his exit and surreptitiously moved out into the hall.

As he shut the door softly, the old woman's words drifted to him. "Tōshirō? Sing for me, please."

"I will, Granny. Then we'll go outside, okay?"

She didn't answer. Turning around, Kyōraku held up a hand and shook his head as a servant approached with the wheelchair. She understood immediately, turning right back around.

There simply wasn't enough time, even for a walk. The thought made him feel unbearably sad.

I'm getting old, he reflected, and went back to his room.

A maid glanced up fearfully as he opened the door. Shunsui smiled to reassure her, and she relaxed somewhat. He had placed her in charge of the funeral arrangements. Once Shirabe died, it would be her turn.

While the girl sat at a low table against the wall reading by candlelight, her master moved to his bed and sat down, uttering a groan as he did. His back always seemed to hurt whenever he woke up these days, regardless of what position he slept in. Shunsui reflected that he had never experienced this level of continuous, steady decline back when he was a shinigami. Then again, eternal health hadn't exactly been a cornucopia of blessings either, had it?

Immediately his thoughts went back to Shirabe like a lodestone drawn to metal. She seemed so happy. Having Tōshirō by her side did much to lift the old lady's spirits. Were children really such a joy? Was that what kept smaller souls going, day in and day out?

Shunsui did not really understand how that must feel. In 2,000 years, he had never fathered any children.

Many people would be surprised to learn this. In fact, the whole of Soul Society would have been shocked to learn the truth. Surely a man of his unrestrained urges and limitless power must have a few by-blows tucked away somewhere, out of sight and out of mind? He was Kyōraku Shunsui, after all, legendary lady's man and connoisseur of carnal pursuits. Now for sure, many a gossipy maidservant or household valet were wont to speculate that his salacious exploits were no more than a front, and that the great Captain of Squad Eight really spent his time in pursuit of other men. They pointed to his longstanding friendship with Jūshirō Ukitake as proof of that.

It was an easy mistake to make. Especially when you considered that Ukitake never got married or had any children (publicly) either. However, whether good-natured or mean-spirited, none of the gossips got it right. Those two long-standing, venerable gods of the battlefield spent their nights alone for very different reasons.

The real story started shortly after the founding of Soul Society…

Slipping into his robe, the young nobleman felt a tug on his trousers and turned in surprise. The comely courtesan lying curled up amid blankets glowered at him with an immature pout. "You're leaving?"

"Yes, my sweet, I must go." Kyōraku Shunsui, Captain of the Second Division, knelt and delivered a kiss on those pert lips which she returned eagerly. One hand traced over her smooth young body, lingering on hips and thigh. He pinched her backside, drawing a delighted squeal in response. But when her own hands sought to eagerly undo the sash of his obi, he was forced to restrain her.

"Now, now, dear girl," he scolded, noting with amusement as she continued to struggle futilely against him as though this were another droll game like the ones they engaged in last night. "Rest assured, you'll see me again soon enough. But I'm afraid there's still miles to go before I can rest."

"You're just saying that," and her pout grew accusatory. "You've got another girl on the side, don't you?"

"Perish the thought!" It was true, but not like this sweet young thing needed to know that. "I'm only on leave from the front for a couple of days. The General elected to spare our companies some convalescence after the latest victory. It's the first time we've had a chance to do so since the Court was founded, if you can believe that. You might not see me for a while…"

She kissed his hand then, looking at him with an expression so innocent and trusting it really didn't belong on a whore. But she was new to this, untouched by any other hands, as he had specifically requested. Shunsui was a nobleman and a captain in the Court of Pure Souls; he couldn't associate with this type of establishment openly. But that didn't mean there weren't avenues available to him when he did. Ones he was only too eager to exploit, having spent the last year doing battle with cannibal spirits intent on feeding off his blood. A man of his stature deserved some reprieve from his duties! But he firmly resolved not to come back here until he had finished meeting with the representatives of his family. Too much of a good thing, after all.

After some tear-filled goodbyes and protestations of devotion on both their parts, Kyōraku stopped to speak with the madame of this bordello. While she was only too happy to run up a tab for him (of course), the captain insisted on paying right away. He left there feeling joyful and reenergized. The sun shone warm on his face, and a cool breeze ruffled his hair with all the playfulness of his little playmate back there.

The giddy nobleman was feeling alive again. Perhaps it was for this reason that he broke his self-imposed prohibition, and came back the following night for a little hanky-panky.

He had expected wine and roses, the gold-star treatment. Instead when the eager-eyed lothario strolled through the door, the girl on duty looked stunned to see him again. She quickly brought the madame, who stood before the captain with an unreadable expression and said through painted lips pressed tight together, "I am sorry, good sir, but we cannot accommodate you for the foreseeable future."

"What?" Never in his life had Kyōraku experienced such treatment. To be turned away by a commoner, a proprietor of whores? He was more astonished than angry, and it came out when he said, "If the young lady is busy at the moment, I'll be more than happy to try someone else!"

"It is not a question of availability. I won't have things like this happening again to my girls. Good day to you, sir."

The way she spoke that last word told him she in no way meant him any courtesy. Her eyes burned like hot coals, and it was then he registered the bruise underneath her makeup.

"What happened?"

His question came in a quiet voice that was nonetheless deathly serious. The madame swallowed, fearful now in a way she hadn't been prior to this. "After you left, some men came by. Shinigami, unless I'm terribly mistaken. They… examined your companion. They were not gentle; wouldn't even tell her what they were doing or why." Her lip curled in loathing. "But I knew."

Kyōraku listened. Then he told her what he wanted. Grudgingly the madame led him to a room where the girl in question lay shivering and distraught, surrounded by more of her profession. They glared at him as though he were to blame for this. And perhaps he was, now that he thought about it.

Kneeling down, Shunsui took the girl's hand. She wouldn't even look at him; just whimpered as though expecting punishment. It made the blood in his veins turn to ice. He should have realized this sort of thing might happen. He was more than the son of a nobleman now, after all. Thanks to Yamamoto he had become a hero, an officer in the ranks of the Gotei 6. More than ever, the young warrior felt the weight of that position, greater than any imposed on him by his family.

When he spoke next it was in a way that made all present cringe.

"Tell me what they looked like."

Three members of the First Division sat in a comfortable lounge in their headquarters laughing and sharing a round of saké, when suddenly the door slid open. All looked up in surprise to find Kyōraku Shunsui standing there.

His sword was drawn.

There was a captains' meeting held the next day. Five current office-holders made their reports to General Yamamoto. The biggest news under discussion turned out to be a report that the Arashi were considering putting forth a candidate from their house to join the Six Court Guard Squads, which would probably require the creation of a new division in and of itself if they could be counted on to bring other members of their House with them.

All throughout the meeting, Shunsui just stood by Ukitake's side looking bored and relaxed. He gave his own assessment of their current situation with typical perfunctory ease. No one saw fit to remark on what he had done.

Only once during those proceedings did he bother meeting Yamamoto's gaze. The General said not a word of reproach, but his scowl spoke volumes. In response the younger man stared blandly back. He did not flinch in the slightest. There was a message in those neutral features, though.

'If anyone under your command approaches my family, or the people I see fit to congregate with, you'd best be prepared to lose a captain.'

Flames burned in the depths of Yamamoto's eyes. But it was he who finally looked away, focusing all his concentration on Captain Kuchiki's explanation regarding the loaning of money between state and private concerns.

It was a moot point, really. Because from that day onwards, Captain Kyōraku never slept with another woman again.

Oh, to be sure, he flirted. He teased, got a little close, maybe even allowed himself a playful tickle. But any hopeful girl who imagined herself scoring the most eligible bachelor in Soul Society always left disappointed. Because Shunsui was resolved. He might be bound to serve in the Court Guard Squads for the remainder of his days. But he would not risk a child of his own to suffer the same fate. For anyone that carried his blood would undoubtedly draw Yamamoto's attention. If he felt the reward was great enough, he might even risk killing Shunsui in order to get a potentially younger, stronger replacement. There were no limits to what Yamamoto would do to ensure the security of the house he had constructed for the sake of his king.

That was the cross Kyōraku Shunsui, notorious ladies' man and warrior poet, chose to bear for the last two thousand years.

As he lay staring at the ceiling, a rush of cold air swept through the halls of Shunsui's home. It blew open doors, extinguished lamps, and caused the inhabitants to tremble. For some reason, everyone who felt its touch found themselves thinking sadly of their parents.

Kyōraku heaved a sigh. He then looked over to where the maid sat watching him. "She's gone," he told her simply.

The girl nodded, wiping her eyes with the palm of one hand. Rising to his feet, Kyōraku headed outside. "I'll go speak with Tōshirō. You can begin the preparations once he leaves."

He shut the door behind him and began to walk steadily along. The icy chill lingered, perhaps even stronger than before, and he regretted not putting on a heavier robe before leaving. As if reading his mind, a servant materialized with the very same item held out to him, and her master sighed ruefully before slipping into it.

Tying the sash, he headed on to bid a final farewell to poor Shirabe, and see what he could do for the child she left behind.

Zangetsu stood by himself in Ichigo's Inner World atop the inverted side of a glass skyscraper. He had been here for some time, reflecting. How many souls had borne him now? Some might say countless, but he knew the exact number: 106. One hundred and six allies had taken him in hand for what seemed like an eternity. And yet today he felt a looming sense of foreboding, of finality.

Was it all coming to an end soon? Did he dare to hope? If so, it was past time they had a talk.

The zanpakutō left that place, departing from sun and clear skies to a realm much deeper, where nighttime still prevailed.

This did not imply it to be a harrowing place. From the moment he entered, fireworks lit the pitch-black sky. They dazzled the eye with explosions of red, green and yellow. Dragons formed to briefly breathe fire before dissolving in a rush of noise. A phoenix spread its wings only to vanish amidst crackling golden light. One burned magnesium white, revealing a remarkably accurate image of a katana trailing a long ribbon.

Sode no Shirayuki would be pleased by that, he thought to himself.

Explosions of color reflected in his shades as he walked amongst the tall pines. He took a deep breath of clean air. The stars always seemed so very bright here, undiminished by the lights of the mortal world. This thought gave him hope as he hied onwards.

At last Zangetsu approached a clearing in the forest. Here a small wooden shrine had been constructed, and it was on the flagstones before it that he found his target. The tall sword spirit approached to stand beside him. "I hope I am not interrupting you."

"It's alright." Wearing a festival kimono and wooden sandals, Ichigo's Inner Child remained absorbed in watching a sparkler he held. The sparks shot everywhere, and the boy grinned, trying to catch them without regard for whether he succeeded or not.

How very unalike they have become.

For a while both took the time to appreciate the show in both heaven and earth. It was no secret why he had come. Each felt the weight of this conversation acutely.

The firecracker continued to fizzle. Watching it with steady eyes, the Inner Child finally said, "I thought it was dead."

"As did I," Zangetsu replied softly. He knelt beside the little boy absorbed in his pastime. Doing so made Zangetsu think of Ichigo's own children, whom he had watched over all their lives unbeknownst to either of them. Even now, when both were starting to grow up, they retained undiminished wonder for little things like this.

The thought of them reminded him of the true purpose behind this visit. "When you were the Hollow…"

The Child fidgeted restlessly, as though uncomfortable.

"… what did Cernunnos want with you?"

Flying sparks reflected in those soft brown eyes. At the same time, his brow creased with worry.

"It wanted for me to win and take over Ichigo. So he'd be crazy. And then, after I did…"

"Cernunnos would control him. Like the rest of the Wild Hunt." Leaning back on his hands, Zangetsu craned his head up to stare at the lovely midnight sky. One of the clouds around the moon twisted suddenly, resembling a prancing stag for a moment, only to collapse back into formlessness. His lip curled with loathing.

"Worse than that. It wanted to becomehim."

Zangetsu glanced over sharply. "Are you sure?"

The Inner Child looked up and nodded. "Cernunnos is some kind of parasite, right? It sticks to other Hollows to lead the Wild Hunt. But if it dies, the Hunt ends. So it will always pick the strongest one."

"And there were few Hollows who could claim to be stronger than you." Turning things over in his mind, Zangetsu reflected on their situation. Thanks to Kujaku and his dream escapades, they had finally learned of Cernunnos' true origin. Being a child of the Wolf explained its affinity for mad Hollows. But the Hunt Master could only control others of its breed who were already insane. It was the madness that Cernunnos craved…

Could that be its goal?

"You look like you figured something out."

The Child had stood up and was making circles of light in the air with his sparkler, which never went out. He regarded Zangetsu in a calm, contemplative manner that made him look more mature. Like this the resemblance to Ichigo was unmistakable.

"I believe so." The ring of fire reflected in his shades, giving him an even more otherworldly appearance that the boy secretly liked. "Cernunnos lives in fear of all other things, so it seeks a host to protect itself. Being born of the Wolf, doubtless it dreads being reabsorbed as all its brothers were."

"But if it could find a strong enough host," the Inner Child spoke reflectively, "then Cernunnos might be able to kill Stark."

"Perhaps. But I suspect its true goal is to control the Wolf."

The Child left off spinning his toy, eyes growing wide in realization. "You mean since Stark is crazy, Cernunnos thinks it can take him over and make him its new host? Then maybe it needs a strong enough body, so if it can't beat the Primera, it might last long enough in a fight to get its claws into him and take over." Growing excited, he frowned all of a sudden. "But wait… if Cernunnos thought it could do that, wouldn't it already have tried?"

"Not necessarily. Remember that for ages of the world, the Wolf was caged. Since the day Cernunnos was born, in fact. Even were the Hunt Master to successfully overcome its parent, the mystic chain Gleipnir would still have kept them irrevocably bound in place, unable to escape. It would have traded a prison of fear for an actual prison. And Cernunnos is clever enough to realize that."

"But Stark was freed," the Child pointed out.

"Yes." Reaching up, Zangetsu removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes as though tired. "And as luck would have it, by that time Cernunnos had been imprisoned as well."

"Ohhh…" That was true. He remembered now. The first thing Rose did when they teamed up together in Hueco Mundo was to have Ichigo's Hollow break the seal that Barragan Luisenbarn placed on the Wild Hunt keeping them imprisoned. Rose lacked the strength to overcome the old Hollow King's enchantments, which was why he needed the all-powerful Hollow so badly.

"So Cernunnos finally got loose, but by then we had already locked Stark up in Nirvana, and he missed his chance again." The kid flashed a huge self-satisfied grin up at the sword spirit. "Boy, his luck sucks."

"Agreed." A faint flicker of a smile flashed over that glowering face before fading away. "However, the danger still remains. We thought Cernunnos dead, but it appears to have only been lost somehow within the sleeping minds of Saijin Komamura and Kujaku. And now that it walks free again in the body of Kaname Tosen, they share the same purpose."

"Opening up Nirvana… freeing Stark and Aizen." Ichigo's Inner Child crossed one arm under the other and bit his thumb in agitation. After a time he gave a shake of his head and trained steely eyes filled with resolve on his partner. "You have to tell Ichigo."

"Have you not done so already?" Zangetsu inquired.

At this the boy smiled mysteriously. "We don't share. There are things I know that Ichigo can't." He then held out his hand to the zanpakutō. "Make sure he gets the message, alright? Ichigo can be kinda dumb sometimes."

Even here, he looked down on himself. Zangetsu regretted to see this, but nonetheless he took the Child's soft fingers in his own. "I will do so. Thank you, brother."

"Good luck."

A huge firework burst overhead, and as though caught in a fast-flowing river, Zangetsu found himself thrust back into his natural domain.

Looking around the landscape of the Inner World, he took a moment to consider how to address this. The Child was right; there were things Ichigo had best not be made aware of. But they both looked after him, in their own way. And with luck, that would be enough.

Ichigo?

"Hey, Old Man. What's up?"

This time, they met inside an image of a horseshoe galaxy, like the ones Kujaku had seen in science textbooks. He could always count on a new and interesting environment whenever these dreams took place. But one thing never changed…

"Tea?" Aizen Sosuke spoke invitingly, holding out a freshly brewed cup.

Kujaku took a seat across from him. "No, thank you."

The Lord of Nirvana crooked a smile before taking a long, indulgent sip. With a sigh of total bliss, he then leaned back on a pile of cushions that appeared to be made of stars, their tassels being comets. The cosmos rotated smoothly and silently around them. For a moment Kujaku thought the stars looked like a multitude of eyes glaring at him. Then Aizen said…

"Pray, tell me a story, Prince Kuchiki."

So he did.

This tale took place long ago, when the souls of men were still young. It was a time of deepest winter in the northern lands. The difference between the world of the living now and this virgin territory was undeniable. Everything here, from the air to the snow on the ground, just seemed cleaner than Kujaku was used to. And quiet. Covered in a layer of heavy snow, the land felt so still.

A flock of birds abruptly burst into the air nearby, startling him. When he looked in that direction, the youth spotted a wolf.

It came through the frozen undergrowth, so big and dark it at first seemed like a shadow moving on its own. But snow crunched beneath its paws, and its breath steamed. Yellow eyes swiveled about as the great beast scented the air. It tensed, body hunkering down as it stared intently forward.

Right then Kujaku somehow knew there were men approaching.

He found them almost immediately. Ice had frozen in their beards, and they looked so shaggy he could hardly tell them apart. Both were bent down low, clad head to foot in furs taken from various animals, even moving like them, careful and wary. No words passed between the pair. They were hunting the wolf, he realized.

One of the men had drawn his bow and held an arrow nocked to the string. He must have seen their prey, for he grew excited. The hunter took careful aim. As if sensing this, the wolf began to move away, not running yet, but ready to do so at a moment's notice.

Kujaku swore he could tell what both man and beast were thinking. For the wolf, it knew there was danger close at hand; with fight or flight its only options, it chose escape without any of the hesitation that would beset a human. It knew exactly what to do in this situation. As for the hunter, so focused was he on his target he could think of nothing else; not the other men of his tribe waiting to welcome him home, nor his family expecting word of a successful showing, or even the young woman anxiously yearning for her soon-to-be husband's return.

As for the man's partner on the hunt, for some reason nothing could be gleaned from him. But when he slipped a flint knife from his belt and sidled a step closer to the archer, his reason for being here suddenly became all too clear.

The crunch of snow as he moved was slight, but it made the wolf bolt. The archer's head turned in anger. He caught a glimpse of the knife, and for a moment his face held only confusion.

Then his friend lunged at him without a sound. The archer's reaction came just as swift. He loosed the arrow, which went wide of its mark, and swung his bow around to knock the crude blade aside before it could pierce his heart. Angry, the killer tackled him. Both of them collided and went rolling in a clumsy struggle on the snowy ground.

Kujaku could make out little of what was actually going on in this frightful scene. He had never seen anything like this in his life. Film and television held violence, to be sure, but this… it was real! A murder was taking place before his eyes. For the first time, the teen found himself confronted with actual evil. It made him feel awful.

One of the men, he couldn't tell which, had gotten on top of the other. He was snarling and panting, growling out sounds which might have been words Kujaku couldn't understand. The knife protruded from between his collarbone, having snapped clean off in the struggle. Now he had his hands wrapped around the other man's throat, who clawed desperately at his assailant's eyes and drew long scratches down his cheeks. But still the slavering man bore down, squeezing the breath from his life-long friend. That young, almost handsome face was contorted with absolute fury, and he could not be compelled to let go, though his former ally's eyes begged desperately for mercy.

Only when those eyes rolled up in their sockets and bloody spittle ran from both sides of his mouth did the killer finally consent to let go. He climbed shakily to his feet and stared down at the corpse. Stunned now by what had taken place and what he had done, the young warrior mechanically picked up the bow. Upon looking around briefly, he turned and trudged off.

As he left, the wolf came out of hiding. It had not run. Now it approached the corpse, sensing still-warm meat which lay open for its consumption. Food for its mate and their pups.

It then drew back with a start, as from out of the body rose the dead man's spirit. He was wailing, struggling and clutching at his own throat as though still feeling the killer's hands locked around them. Abruptly he noticed the wolf and grew still. They stared at each other in seeming amazement.

An eerie roar shook the world as the Gates of Hell came bursting out of the ground. The ghost and the wolf froze in primordial terror as the guard-chain snapped, permitting its doors to yawn wide. Mocking laughter filled the air. Hearing it, the lost soul snapped out of his trance and turned to flee. But it was too late. A huge lance of cruel barbed steel tore from the formless red nothingness to skewer him upon its tip, drawing the dead man back shrieking in utmost agony.

The wolf watched all this splayed flat on the turf. It had stained the snow in its terror. Kujaku knew how it felt. But as the damned soul retracted back towards those raging depths, something caught his eye. Down at the edge of the portal, it looked as though a small protrusion was pushing from the other side. Was something trying to get out?

A mighty boom sounded as the Gates slammed shut. But just before they did, there came an almost imperceptible pop, and a small form came tumbling out.

Kujaku could discern little of what this thing might be. It reminded him of a baby, or a smashed bug, twitching and jerking in its death throes. Black as charred meat, it seemed to steam as it lay atop the snow. There was a strange two-dimensional quality to this thing. What he did know for certain was that it repelled him to the depths of his soul. The wolf appeared to agree, growling in low bursts as it caught sight of this loathsome specter only a few feet away.

But their disgust was nothing compared to the tremendous howl of rage that came as the Gates of Hell tore open once more. This caused the black thing to jump. It went scuttling across the snow like a panicky cockroach even as flaming chains with spiked tips shot out in abundance. They homed in on the creature, but as if sensing its impending capture, the fleeing smear shot straight towards the wolf, which uttered a vicious snarl of its own. This time there was no chance of flight as the beast leapt forward boldly, seeking to rend this abomination to death between its jaws.

Instead the creature appeared to fly straight down the wolf's throat a mere instant before the Chains of Hell could skewer it. With a bloody cough the poor beast collapsed and slid forward in a limp heap. Hovering over it as though uncertain what to do, the Chains slid back into that furious void in a flash. The doors slammed shut before dropping out of sight quick as they first appeared.

Wolf and corpse lay next to one another. Kujaku found himself praying they were both dead. But even as he woke from the dream, he knew there was more to come.

Aizen leaned forward with interest. "And was there?"

To this the teen could only shake his head in regret. "No. I never saw that dream again. And I never found out who dreamed it." He then looked up with a determined expression. "But it came shortly after you set Cernunnos free."

The nobleman in white ignored this accusation. He tilted his head up in a regal manner, eyes closed as though meditating. When Aizen finally looked back at Kujaku, his gaze glimmered with a hungry glow. "Another piece falls into place. As always, Prince Kuchiki, you tell a most captivating tale." Reclining back on the pile of cushions, the death god rested his cheek on one hand and gave a charming smile. "Now, what would you ask of me?"

It took an effort to hide his eagerness. Striving to emulate the example of both his uncle, his mother, and the man who sat before him now, the young prince lifted his chin and stated with calm self-assurance, "Tell me about your zanpakutō."

"Ah," Sosuke chuckled. "Now that is a tale!"

The long corridor down which Enfain Tezima walked was almost ridiculously high-ceilinged, yet still it was dwarfed in turn by the sheer size of the colossal building itself. A testament to the overblown conceit of its former owner, Tezima reflected as she marched down the corridor. Normally she would have preferred to crawl along the ceiling, the better to keep out of sight and get the drop on anyone. But she loathed high places. And so the Hollow was forced to walk across the long tiled floor.

A flickering light shone ahead to guide her. Soon enough Tezima came out of the passage to find herself in an incredible domed amphitheater. Its cleared sandy center stretched hundreds of feet from one end to another, while only a vague impression of walls and ringed seats could be made out in the low light. In the center of this fighting arena there burned a great fire in a pit. Wrinkling her nose, Tezima approached the creature standing before it.

"I'm here," she stated, crossing her arms to regard him warily.

Still absorbed in dancing flames, the horned helm turned ever so slightly. "I demanded Grimmjow's presence."

Already this was starting off bad. "Well, you got me instead. So why am I here?"

"You didn't seriously expect him to obey a summons from you, did you, Tosen?" a different voice mocked, cruel laughter echoing throughout the dome.

Tezima swiveled in the direction of this voice, cursing the loss of an eye that left her half-blind. Her Hollow helm had been reconfigured to hide the maiming she had received from the shinigami captain so that the remaining chameleon eye covered it. But no amount of regeneration could repair the damage that icy blade inflicted on her. All the same, she quickly caught sight of Rōjurō Otoribashi lounging at ease on one of the lowest rings in the spectator stands. The former Vaizard had on a long black coat and gloves which contrasted with his sickly pallor. Curly white hair glowed orange from the flames, while yellow eyes with black sclera regarded them with supercilious contempt. A large gold-bladed scythe rested beside him.

"He shall learn his place soon enough. As shall you, Otoribashi."

Her attention quickly shifted back to the person who called this meeting. His aura had changed, to say nothing of the god-awful smell. But that was Kaname Tosen without a doubt.

Rose's Hollow merely gave a contemptuous sneer. Hoisting his scythe up onto one shoulder, the Hollow vaulted lightly across the sand pit to land beside them in a single bound. He flicked a chilly look at Tezima, perhaps to let her know that he still held a grudge over their last encounter, then rounded on their erstwhile host. "Well, Tosen, old chum, you didn't have to get dolled up for my sake. But since we're here, why not cut to the chase and tell us the good news, hmm? Is Aizen free? Is that how you've come to be here?"

To this Tosen finally consented to turn and look at them, giving Tezima a better idea of what they were dealing with. That thick fur cloak falling down his shoulders reeked so bad it made her think Aizen must have made him sleep in Nirvana's cesspit. Other than this and a simple wrap around his waist he stood naked. The stag's helm he had on left only his mouth visible. There was something unnerving about those deep black sockets bored into the helm that left her thinking it was no longer a case of him being blind; he had no eyes at all. Unless you counted the ornamental ones on the back of his hood. Boasting clawed hands and feet with a ragged hole through his grey-skinned chest, it seemed clear their old shinigami overseer had become a Hollow at Aizen's command. But was this really the intended result? There was something barbaric about him now, a far cry from the civilized persona he worked so hard to project back when Aizen first took Hueco Mundo for his own.

"Aizen played no part in my being here. I have come to deliver the will of our true lord and master!" The former shinigami threw a look pregnant with threat at the rebel Vaizard. "And my name is no longer Tosen. I am Kaname Cernunnos, servant of the Wolf."

"Wolf?" Now both Tezima and Rōjurō shared an uneasy glance. Could he mean…?

"Coyote Stark," Kaname supplied for their benefit. "Though some call him Fenris Ulf, he is our one true God of the Moon who watches over us from afar. We are all his servants, and I foremost among them." Turning back to the bonfire, the idolater raised his arms on high, blind head tilted upwards towards the roof as he preached. "His will shall be done!"

As far as Enfain could recall, Stark didn't have much of a will beyond bawling his eyes out followed by killing everything in sight. The Primera Espada was mad past any hope of reprieve.

"Since when do you toot the praises of anyone but Aizen?" Rōjurō interjected suddenly. "And what's this got to do with me?"

Kaname Cernunnos let his arms drop and turned to regard them once more. "For now, nothing will change for you both. Our goal remains the same: force the shinigami filth to open Nirvana. It is that, or let them face utter destruction."

"How is that any different than letting Stark run wild again?" Tezima asked in quiet tones, silently gauging the madman before her. "The plan was for them to bring our heavy hitters back so that the shinigami could at least be assured of survival. If Stark's still in the picture, that becomes impossible, and they know it."

Her argument seemed to have no effect on this madman. "The shinigami need not be made aware of our shift in allegiances. Let them continue to believe they might survive under the upstart Aizen's rule. When the Wolf returns, the whole world shall become his prey once more."

Rose's Hollow regarded him with disdain. "Some things never change. You're still a cocky little prick, Tosen."

With that he flicked a finger, and a strand of his hair shot across the pit to strike Cernunnos in the chest. It began to vibrate with a musical warbling note that caused Tezima's teeth to clench in instinctive discomfort.

"Now bow to me, traitor," the puppet-master breathed in satisfaction.

Kaname Cernunnos made no attempt to remove the parasitic filament. Or any other movement, for that matter. He simply stood there.

Nonplussed, Rōjurō snarled, "I said BOW!"

The string shook harshly, flashing in the firelight. Then it abruptly snapped. Rose's Hollow staggered back a step, the white skin of his face gone waxy with shock.

"It would seem a demonstration is in order."

The sand beneath them shook. Tezima and Rōjurō spun about, him forming his full Hollow mask, her shouting out a release command to endow her with the full power of Chiao Roscuro. Despite this, both Hollows froze in helpless fear as from beneath the sand there emerged a circle of gigantic heads to surround them. More than any regular Menos Grande, they were…

"The Wild Hunt!" Rōjurō hissed in dismay. Meanwhile Enfain could only curse silently. That blind bastard really is the new Cernunnos!

Mad red eyes focused on nothing as the revealed Menos Grande opened their mouths. But rather than a volley of Ceros as one might inspect, instead their gargantuan tongues came curling out. The enslaved giants made not a sound, but all the same, screams rocked the arena. Their source soon became clear. From every Menos maw there emerged cages wrought of what looked like desiccated wood. And within them were human souls, struggling against one another and rattling the bars in terror as they shouted for aid.

"The reign of man and death god will soon come to an end…"

Breathing heavily, Tezima looked behind her. Kaname Cernunnos had bent to withdraw a blazing brand from the bonfire at his back. "Only the Wolf shall rule," the Hunt Master declared with the calm certainty of a fanatic.

He walked casually across the sand until reaching the closest cage. Men and women screamed anew at this horrific figure's approach. Then without a moment of hesitation, the mad Hollow thrust his torch into the base of the cage.

It took light almost instantly, like it was soaked in pitch, and in moments the whole basket was ablaze. The pleas of those trapped inside changed to animalistic howls as they too were engulfed in flames. Their roasting flesh soon filled her every breath, and while Tezima cared nothing for the fate of mere humans, even she felt discomfort at what was taking place.

Still, neither of them made any move to intervene as the horned shaman made his way from one cage to the next, setting them all alight. Smoke, shrieks and scarlet flames now ringed them on all sides. Once he was finished, Cernunnos came walking back through the bonfire to emerge unharmed on the other side. His empty sockets seemed to fixate on them both, causing the Hollows to shiver.

"I desire full obedience in these matters. Any dissent or attempt to join forces against me will be met with total retribution."

Kaname Cernunnos then flung the brand to lie guttering and spitting on the sands between them. Tezima swallowed uneasily at this implicit threat.

"Soon I shall move to strike a mighty blow against Soul Society that will bring them to us in full force. You will return to your respective posts. And I shall require one other thing from both of you…"

When Tezima returned to their hideout, she went straight to Grimmjow.

Her pack leader had taken up residence in the quarters previously reserved for this palace's master. All furnishings had been cleared away or tossed out the balcony contemptuously. The new lord of Las Noches now sat in the center of the chamber cross-legged with hands resting on his knees. His coat was off, revealing a body still sleekly muscled but also drawn, wasted, as though from lack of food. Or something more…

The hole in his stomach had grown even more since last she came, eating up parts of his torso and even his arms and neck now. A mortal creature would not have been able to stand up, let alone survive in this state. But the Sexta seemed to pay his disability no mind. He sat, eyes closed and breathing steadily while facing the open balcony.

"So what's up?" he asked without turning around as she came in.

Tezima leaned against the doorframe with arms crossed. "It's Tosen. He's one of us now."

A chuckle caused what was left of his back muscles to ripple. "Damn!" Grimmjow Jaguerjaques ran a hand through turquoise hair and threw back his head with a bark of laughter. "HAH! There goes the neighborhood! And here I thought this dump couldn't get any worse."

"There's more," she continued, rubbing her arms restlessly at the memory. "You were right; the Wild Hunt is back. And he's the new Cernunnos."

"Is that a fact?" Jaguerjaques resumed his meditative pose without any sign of worry at this news.

"I don't know if it was him talking or what," she went on, "but he's switched allegiances. Going on about how Stark is the future ruler of the world and we're all going to serve him. Or feed him."

"Anything else?"

Tezima licked her lips in trepidation. "Yeah. He says we're to supply him with Hollows. The best we have."

For the first time, Grimmjow looked over his shoulder at her. The sight of those pale blue eyes filled her with fear greater than anything she had felt speaking to Tosen. "The fuck does he need them for? He's got the whole damn Wild Hunt now, doesn't he?"

She nodded. "As far as I could tell."

His head tilted slightly, face growing thoughtful. Then he turned away. "Ask Gin about it next time you see him. Make sure you tell the prick everything that bastard said."

"What about our manpower?"

To this he waved a lazy hand. "Go to the ones we turned away for being too weak. Tell 'em Aizen orders it. Fucker probably won't be able to tell the difference anyway."

"Tosen, maybe," she pointed out. "But this is Cernunnos. And it talks now. To my knowledge, that's never happened before. We might be dealing with something dangerous."

"Yeah?" He took a deep breath.

In that moment, Tezima was almost eaten.

Not just her. It looked like the whole room contracted inwards, like it was no more solid than a balloon. Walls, ceiling, possibly even the horizon outside; it all simply pulled in on itself towards Grimmjow.

Then he let out a sigh. Everything snapped back into place. Enfain Tezima collapsed to sit back on her hands, breathing heavily and staring at the Espada with sweat dripping down her cheeks.

"So what?" he responded lightly. "They all end up the same… as food."

The Hollow spy stood up quickly, still shaken in spite of herself. "I'll inform Ichimaru."

A grunt was his only response. Turning, she made sure to walk away slowly, lest her flight trigger his instinctive desire to give chase and tear her limb from limb.

Enfain Tezima lived in fear, as did all Hollows. She had witnessed vasto lorde, though, convincing herself there was nothing more frightening as a result. This was what allowed her to view even something as threatening as Kaname Cernunnos and his Wild Hunt as mere bugaboos by comparison.

But it turned out there was something scarier than a vasto lorde. And that was a person who could actually become one.

"Kurosaki-san?"

Ichigo looked up to find two of his colleagues standing by his desk. "Oh, hi… uhhh…"

"Sorry to disturb you," the woman smiled at him, while the man frowned as though irritated. "Do you still have the files on that land grant proposal?"

"Oh… I thought we were done with that, so I put it in storage."

"The chief has some more questions. So it's in storage? Thanks…"

"I'll get it for you." Ichigo quickly locked his computer, scrambled up and darted around them before either could object.

"You really don't have to… !"

"It's okay. My fault anyway." Having sat staring at the same form on his screen for the past ten minutes, Ichigo felt overwhelming relief at this mundane task. Not like he was making much headway; so many of the reports he went through used the same language, it was like reading EULA agreements. And he did this for a living.

"Have you noticed he never remembers our names?"

His ears pricked as they picked up the muttered conversation behind him.

"Don't start. It might be an affliction. I have a great aunt who's the same way."

Did they know he could hear them? Well, not important, really.

Ichigo told himself this while heading to the second floor. But it didn't really stick. Electing to ride the elevator rather than take the stairs because it took longer (and to keep from aggravating his knee), the junior public servant checked his tie in a wall furnishing while he waited, frowning at how the polished brass made his skin appear sallow. He had already used his lunch break, so there wasn't even that to look forward to the rest of the day. Something out of the ordinary would eat up the hours, not to mention keep him from falling asleep at his desk.

It took less time than he hoped to reach the material storage rooms. Even today, with everything digital, government bureaucracies still insisted on keeping paper documents handy. Which wasn't such a bad idea. Never knew when the machines might rise up and start a war.

He found the box he wanted, pulled it down and spotted the folder right away. Mission accomplished. With it safely tucked under his arm, Ichigo was just about to head back when a thought occurred to him.

Speaking of war… would now be a good time? Yes, yes, I think it would.

Glancing around to see if anyone was nearby, he pulled a Pez dispenser from his pocket and popped a pill. In an instant the somewhat drawn and listless office worker transformed into an ethereal spirit brimming with power and strength. He turned back to his body and said to the gikongan now piloting it, "Take that and give it to… uhhh… the lady with the bad perm."

"Yes, sir!" It saluted him smartly before striding off with an air of purpose and determination he couldn't imagine feeling on the job. Supposedly these things were designed to avoid suspicion, but most of them were complete goofs.

Oh, well. Not like it matters now! And with that, he moved through the walls and took off into open air.

Soaring through the skies like this, faster than anything that lived, Ichigo Kurosaki momentarily felt his burdens lift. The countryside of Japan, his homeland, moved rapidly beneath him. Roads and railways of modern design wound their way past ancient forests and fields that had been plowed since before the time of the Shogunate. Mountains rose to dominate the landscape, while bustling cities thrived in their shadows. It was so damn good to get out of that cloistered office building and the dreary details that made up his regular day.

You have been doing this more often of late.

As he flew, his guardian spirit appeared beside him, keeping pace without seeming to move at all. The zanpakutō cast a perfunctory look around before turning his attention back on Ichigo.

I mislike seeing you abandon your life so cavalierly.

That isn't life, alright, Zangetsu? It's work. And anyway, the mod soul can handle it, so no big deal.

That is not the point.

It is as far as I'm concerned. I mean, sometimes when I get back, people are praising me for stuff and I don't have a clue what they're talking about! I'm seriously considering just having him work 9 to 5 while I take off and do some sightseeing.

You are behaving like a child.

Not like I had much chance when I was one, right?

Listen to me. Relying on a mod soul to interact with other people shows disdain for them. Living beings depend upon one another more than might seem at first glance. Only the dead exist without concern for those around them.

That's horseshit. Most of the dead people I meet these days are nervous wrecks, harping on about their miserable lives or what they missed out on. And that's not even counting the Hollows. You want me to wind up like that?

By 'that,' do you mean a wretched creature consumed by what you might have done had you only been given more time? Embittered and remorseful because the world did not favor you in a manner you desired? Because it seems to me you are already well on your way there.

It occurred to Ichigo that he was basically arguing with himself. And worse, he appeared to be losing. Irritated now, he left off sightseeing and reoriented on his destination.

This is just a side jaunt. Don't read too much into it.

I harbor no delusions. Can you say the same?

When he looked off to the side again, the black-clad phantom had vanished. This didn't mean he wouldn't get an earful on his way back. But it would have to wait, as he had reached Hokkaido.

Japan's northernmost province was sparsely populated compared to its other islands. However, it boasted an impressive tourist industry, especially in the winter. And some people appreciated colder climes, for various reasons. Case in point…

A modern home of expensive design rose out of a patch of trees on the side of a snow-capped mountain. With white walls, a courtyard and what might even be a tower emerging from the cluster of buildings, this eclectic edifice resided far from any neighbors, well off the beaten path. Only someone wealthy could afford this level of isolation.

Focusing his spiritual senses, the disembodied soul dropped down to ground level, noting as he did numerous wards set in place to alert the house's owner should anyone approach, be they friendly or not. Fortunately he was a welcome guest (for the most part), and so Ichigo passed unmolested into the mansion proper.

After getting his bearings he soon found himself in a spacious living room of eye-catching design. A log fire crackled in a fireplace large enough to be a pottery kiln. Circular stairs with polished silver balustrades wound up to the second floor. Water cascaded in ripples down large glass sheets which surrounded a recessed area in the center of the room. It was here he found his host sitting on plush white carpeting beside a low table. The surface was covered in paper on which numerous ideas for apparel had been drawn.

Ichigo crossed his arms and smiled. "Hey, Pencil."

This earned him a narrow-eyed glare. "That's Pencil-san to you, Ichy."

Ishida Uryu held a sketch before his face and squinted, eyes narrowed behind silver-rimmed glasses. Wearing corduroy slacks and a cashmere sweater, the fashion designer indicated the couch behind him. "Feel free to sit, since you've already invited yourself in. And please keep your voice down. My wife is asleep in the next room."

"Michiru's home? I didn't feel her." That should come as no surprise, really. With their first child on the way, the cellphone-novelist-turned-literary-sensation had stepped back from touring. Fans had to settle for answering each other's questions. At least until after the baby was born.

Ichigo ignored the inviting white leather sofa and instead plopped down cross-legged on the floor across from his old nemesis. He peered at the scattered sketches with interest. "Some of the people I work with would kill to get a peek at these."

"Oh?" The Quincy began to quickly trace something down.

"Definitely. Y'know, it's not often a second book is received as well as the first."

Here Uryu gave a faint smile. "Yes, who would have thought the public would eat up a story about high school students in a paranormal club solving mysteries?"

"And I'm still waiting for my royalty check, by the way," Ichigo added acerbically.

The archer only chuckled while continuing to draw. "As I've told you before, it's a complete coincidence the villain turned out to be the redheaded simple-minded janitor all along."

"Cheap bastard," Ichigo grumbled. Examining their surroundings, the part-time death god allowed himself to admire these expensive digs. "Gotta say, you guys have really made the most of your success."

"Have you heard anything about the Wild Hunt?"

While technically the ostensive reason behind his visit, it still irked him that Ishida would cut right to the chase like that. "No. We haven't been able to find where Barragan held them prisoner before. Byakuya feels it's the most likely place for the Hunt to be holed up, and I agree. If we're really lucky, Rose and Grimmjow might be there too. Soul Society will let us know when they're ready to mobilize."

Uryu grunted. "Give them my best."

Ichigo looked up from the designs. "Wait… you're not coming?"

Resuming his sketching, the Quincy kept his eyes averted. "No."

"Huh." Well, that sure was a surprise. "Thought for sure you'd want a piece of this. Quincy pride and all that, right?"

Pride was putting it mildly. It was in this very part of the country that Ishida's people had been massacred by an insane horde of Hollows half a century ago. His father and grandfather were saved by the timely arrival of Saijin Komamura. Eventually Ishida Ryuken avenged his family when he destroyed the Hunt Master and its vile crew. For a time they thought that had been the end of it. But now, with Cernunnos on the loose once more, Ichigo had felt certain the Quincy would want to stand in his father's place and bring the Wild Hunt down once more.

Instead, Ishida settled both pencil and sketchbook on the table with a sigh. He took off his glasses, running a hand through inky black hair. Ichigo thought he saw a flash of gray at the temples, but couldn't be sure.

"I turn thirty this year, Kurosaki."

"Way ahead of you," he pointed out, a reminder of who was technically the elder.

To his mild disappointment, the Quincy did not rise to the bait. Instead Uryu stood up and went over to stand by the fire, leaning an arm against the mantlepiece in brooding fashion.

"When I was young," he spoke quietly, "I thought my father a coward for neglecting his heritage. I always assumed that I would live as my grandfather did; fighting Hollows 'til his dying day, protecting the innocent. As befits a Quincy. But now…"

"Yeah?"

Ishida looked up to find Ichigo standing across from him. They stared at one another for a while. Anyone watching might have easily thought they were angry.

"I've come to believe my father had the right idea all along. I have a full life now, Ichigo. We're about to welcome our first child. I don't have to tell you how much that changes things."

"No, you don't. So why not tell me something I don't know?"

In response, Uryu turned his head to gaze into the crackling fire. "This has been coming for a while. I've given it a tremendous amount of thought. And I've decided to retire as a Quincy."

For some reason this statement hit like a punch to the gut. Ichigo could hardly believe how much it hurt. "You… can't be serious!"

"But I am. And keep it down. Michiru, remember?"

Agitated, the restless spirit bit his tongue, stalked off a few paces and then spun back about. "So you're just giving up? Right when we might be about to win this whole thing?"

"That is not how I would describe it. Plus what do you mean we? Soul Society will be the ones invading the dead zone. Please don't tell me you still intend to accompany them."

"You bet I do!" Ichigo retorted hotly, dropping his voice to a whisper when the archer's eyes flashed in renewed condemnation. "That bastard Cernunnos tried to kill Rukia and our son! No way in hell I'm letting him off the hook, I don't care whose body he's hijacked now! And when we finish those bozos off, Aizen and Unohana won't have a leg to stand on anymore, in this world or the next! They'll be trapped forever, and we can finally get on with our lives."

To this impassioned outburst, the sanguine Quincy only regarded him with calm indifference. "Our lives have been going on for over a decade now, Ichigo. You have a family of your own. Why are you still so eager to rush off and fight?"

"Because we're at war, in case you haven't noticed" he spat back. "The Autumn War? That was just a prelude! This time we're gonna finish it."

"The shinigami can handle the battle without us."

"I am a shinigami, dammit!"

"Substitute shinigami," Uryu drawled with every ounce of disrespect he once reserved for their teenage disputes. "And I can't imagine the person who gave you that title is on board with this insane attempt to relive your glory days." He frowned critically then. "Seriously, Ichigo, what's the matter with you? Are you having a midlife crisis or something?"

Expecting another angry outburst, to his surprise, the redheaded spirit looked away in what almost resembled guilt.

"Hey, Ishida…do you remember that one time when we were in school, and I talked to you about how I couldn't live my life with everyone expecting me to be the one to beat Aizen?"

That was one memory he need never fear forgetting. "With vivid clarity."

Perhaps in recognition of the implied insult, Ichigo shot him a vicious look but continued apace. "Back then, it seemed like I couldn't breathe with the weight of all that responsibility. Then all of a sudden, life reared up out of nowhere. I was a father, and a provider. But it didn't… go exactly the way I planned."

Reaching down, he rubbed his right knee, a subconscious act which did not go unnoticed by the Quincy.

In the meantime, Ichigo started walking slowly around the room. "I'll be honest, back then? I kind of told myself that you guys, Chad and everyone else, whenever we fought, you were… holding me back. Like I could have gotten places faster or achieved more if you weren't around. But now all that's gone. It really looks like we might never have to face Aizen again. So I look at you and Michiru…" He indicated the opulent manor, bedecked with the trappings of a very well-off lifestyle. "Kon in the Olympics with Tatsuki, Chad and his Yakuza wife, Chizuru and Mahana and their 'Entertainment Weekly' lifestyle, even Keigo in the Ministry of Defense…"

Ishida blinked. "Wait, what?"

"… and I start to think," here Ichigo let out a tired sigh, his black-clad shoulders slumping slightly, "maybe I'm the one who's fallen behind? I'm not the main focus anymore. People aren't looking at me to save the day this time, y'know? Other guys are stepping up into the spotlight, taking their place on the stage."

Reaching back, the death god brought his huge zanpakutō over one shoulder and stared at it wrapped in bandages. "I'm wondering if I missed my chance. Like I didn't accomplish what I was born to. And there's nothing I can do about it." He turned troubled eyes on his old schoolmate. "I'm afraid of being nothing special, Ishida."

He had half expected to be engaged in a furious row with the big oaf by now. Instead Ishida Uryu found himself sympathizing with his self-proclaimed nemesis. "Telling ourselves we're special, that we have a destiny… it can be a subtle trap of our own creation, Kurosaki. Before too long, I'm going to have a much better idea of what you've been going through these past few years. But even now, I think we understand each other more than either of us might expect."

Crossing the space between them, he laid a hand on the big man's shoulder with a wan smile. "Your children think the world of you. And as long as you're here, Shotoku and Hiruko have nothing to fear. Take it from someone else who didn't always have both parents around; just being there for them can be the greatest of gifts."

"Yeah." Here Ichigo gave an embarrassed cough and glanced away. "Speaking of which, I better be getting back." He began to float upwards.

"Take it easy on yourself," Ishida called after him.

"Uryu?"

With a guilty start the Quincy looked over to see his tiny wife emerging from the next room, her protruding stomach stretching the fabric of her nightgown. She caught sight of him and smiled wanly.

"Oh, hey, Michiru-chan!" Ichigo called out. "Sorry if I woke you up. I was just leaving." And he waved goodbye to both of them. "Later, you two." So saying, the substitute shinigami slipped through the ceiling.

Well, that settles that. With a helpless shrug Uryu slipped over to slide his arms around Michiru's waist, drawing her closer to him. "Sorry," he breathed. "I was trying to be quiet, but you know how it is." And he bent down to kiss her gently on the neck.

"It's fine," Michiru sighed while leaning in to his embrace. "Who were you talking to, anyway?"

At this Uryu drew away a bit, looking at her with a frown. "Ichigo. He was right here. Didn't you see him just now?"

"Kurosaki?" Michiru rubbed her eyes sleepily and peered all around. "Sorry, I must have missed him."

Perhaps he should have just left it at that. But some presentiment in his chest caused Uryu to ask, "Are you saying you didn't even hear him saying goodbye just now?"

Her eyebrows contracted in a frown. "No. But… you know I've never been all that good at sensing spirit stuff." When her husband continued to regard her in worry, Michiru strove to console him. "I'm probably just groggy. Hey, I'll go make us some tea. Do you want any?"

Slowly he nodded. "Sure." This earned him a kiss on the cheek before the happy author went toddling off to the kitchen.

Uryu watched her go. Once she was out of earshot, though, he wasted no time dialing his father.

His phone rang, and Ryuken Ishida grimaced distastefully. That is, until he saw the number. Then he glanced at his patient apologetically. "Please excuse me. I need to take this."

She nodded in understanding. Grateful, he picked up the receiver. "Uryu, whatever it is, you'll have to wait. I'm with…"

Ryuken paused. And listened.

"We've kept track of every patient healed at this hospital over the years. Why do you ask?"

Again he waited, sinking deeper into his chair. "I see. No, we never checked that. I'll contact Kurosaki Isshin and arrange something. I'll report back to you with the results. In the meantime, get in touch with Rukia and have her speak to the Arashi… don't jump to conclusions. We don't know anything for sure. I'll talk to you soon. Goodbye."

The doctor ended the call and looked across the desk. "Sorry for the interruption."

Sprawled in a plush armchair, Rangiku Matsumoto smiled. "No worries. You can tell me all about it during the exam."

She then drifted up with somewhat more effort than usual, wincing as she did. Last time Ryuken had estimated her to be about three months along, but now considered that to be an underestimate. He didn't have much experience with shinigami physiology. Still, if Rukia's case was anything to judge by, Rangiku might be due sooner than anticipated.

The doctor and his patient then went into a private room to check on her baby's growth.

After Byakuya arrived at the manor, he inquired as to his sister's whereabouts. Once confirmed, he headed towards the backyard. And the first thing he heard upon approaching was his son's laughter. It was such a good sound he stopped to savor the moment.

They knew it was coming. You must be strong.

This is not about strength. Even I know it to be a cruel stroke.

Senbonzakura had no response to this. The Lord-Commander opened the door and stepped outside, to find his home transformed into a rabbit warren. They were everywhere. Milling about, eating and chasing one another. Apparently the population had grown greater than expected. Soon enough it would be time to let the current crop go into the wild.

So stealthy was his approach neither of them even noticed him coming. Or maybe their furry charges left them too preoccupied. A rabbit lay contentedly in Rukia's lap. She stroked its fur, noting with approval how healthy it seemed. "You've done splendid work taking care of them in my absence, Noboru."

"Thanks, Ba-san." Sitting beside her on the lawn, her nephew Noboru Shihoin picked up a black and white bunny and placed it on his head. Almost immediately it began to fall off in a panic, forcing him to reach up to offer support. "These little guys were the first friends I made in Soul Society." He turned carefully to show off his new headwear. "What do you think, Papa?"

"Hmm." So much for not being noticed. Surrounded by a veritable horde of hopping hares let loose from their pens, Byakuya Kuchiki appeared in no way disturbed that rabbits had taken over the grounds. Dozens of long-eared critters milled about the lush grass, permitted to go where they pleased for a short while. A few servants waited at a respectful distance, alert to any strays or escapees trying to make it under the house in search of new diggings.

"Didja know I gave them names?" Noboru drawled. "That one's Sloppy, his sister's Floppy, and this little guy is Valentino Gutiérrez."

Despite himself, Byakuya had to smile. "Valentino Gutierrez?"

"No, Papa, you gotta say it with a really heavy Spanish accent! Like 'Valen-tino… Gutiérrez!"

Noboru began excitedly rattling off further names for their brood, prompting his aunt to object over some of the more outlandish ones. However upon hearing him regally dub a particularly fat rabbit as 'Sir Nigel Bumwaddle,' her disapproving scowl lifted and she couldn't help but laugh.

The Lord of the Kuchiki watched his precious family absorbed in this harmless pastime. It felt good, sharing time with both of them. Part of him wanted to hold off a little longer; just enjoy a quiet moment in his life that didn't demand worry or stress. But he had long practice looking past his personal preferences. The time had come at last. They must accept the consequences along with him, regardless of how much it hurt.

"Rukia…" When she turned to him, he spoke softly, "You should begin making preparations."

A hint of worry appeared in that pale face. There was no need to ask what he meant. "Now?" Her fingers never left off teasing the tame bunny she held in anxiety. "But they're only in middle school, both of them. I have time yet."

"They will need time to come to grips with your leaving. The more, the better."

Grief settled over his sister, robbing her of some of the joy he so ardently sought to bestow upon her. Large lilac eyes held a plea, as though begging her big brother to stop the flow of time itself. In truth, were he able Byakuya would most certainly do so. But some things were beyond his power. And they had both sworn an oath this time.

"The children are approaching maturity, and must be made aware. We agreed when Kujaku was born that you would remain in the mortal realm only until he had reached his eighteenth birthday."

"Papa," Noboru spoke up then, desperate to defend his aunt even now, "what about Hiruko? There's just a little over a year between them. That's not much of a difference, really. Can't Ba-san stay until she graduates as well?"

"We have already discussed this." Wintry gray eyes remained fixed on his sister, who gazed back with tears in her own. "It does not change what was agreed upon." There was no trace of emotion in his face. Byakuya Kuchiki did not allow himself to weaken in the face of anything. Not even his own misgivings. "Rukia… as a member of the Kuchiki, and a shinigami, it is your duty to tell your children the truth."

For a moment she looked about to object. But instead his little sister bit back her words. She closed her eyes, head bowing forward slightly, then looked up to face him with firm resolve and gave a brief nod.

Byakuya approved. There had been a chance she might argue that this would affect the safety of her offspring. Little doubt remained on that score. They had their father, after all. Ichigo remained a warrior of unparalleled power, and he had flourished under Nanao Ise's tutelage in the mystic arts. There was also Nanao herself to consider; the children's grandfather Isshin Kurosaki, a former captain of the Kidō Corps and sorcerer paramount; Konpaku Shiba, prince of that clan, to say nothing of the worthwhile allies Ichigo had gathered from among the ranks of the living. No, even without their mother, Kujaku and Hiruko would not lack for capable protectors.

The air of merriment had passed, leaving only solemnity in its wake. All three of them now moved to place the rabbits back in their pens. Byakuya handled the small furry creatures with as much gentleness and consideration as their owner. One of them scratched him with its hind claws, but he paid it little mind, there being no injury to speak of. He considered this fitting. Hurting the ones he loved, however well-intentioned, should leave its mark on him as well.

It was time to go. The lord of the manor turned to his son. "Noboru? Will you accompany us?"

The boy appeared to consider before speaking, as if weighing his options. "I'll wait. Give them a chance to talk it over together, y'know? I want to check in on Mama too, make sure she's alright." Byakuya signaled his understanding, and Noboru glanced anxiously at Rukia. "But let them know I'll come around later, okay?"

"Of course," she smiled. Her nephew quickly rushed over to give Rukia a hug, which she was only too happy to return. They spoke to one another in tender voices. Byakuya stood apart, recognizing this as a moment between them. When it was over Noboru wiped away tears and transformed into his primate form before climbing a lattice to go scampering away.

The two older scions of the clan proceeded on their way at a more sedate pace. There was no hurry in their movements as they climbed aboard a waiting palanquin and exited the palace grounds. The journey was made with little discussion. In no time at all, it seemed, they had come to a gate that led to the world of the living. A hell butterfly was summoned for them, and the two nobles left Soul Society.

In under an hour both Rukia and Byakuya were ensconced in gigai sitting in the living room of her home in the Usagi Shoten. A call to work brought Ichigo home early after he had cleared things with his superiors. They talked for a bit, but soon enough the front door slammed again.

"Mom! We're home!"

Shoto and Hiruko walked into the room wearing school uniforms. Both their faces lit up with delight upon spotting their uncle, but before they could surge forward, Rukia held out a hand to indicate the floor before her.

"Sit down, now," she said, wearing a brave smile in an attempt to reassure them. "There's something important you should know…"

The funeral service was carried out with meticulous precision. One might believe it was a member of the nobility being honored here, so respectful were the attendees. Shirabe had been one of their own. They did not forget that.

Kyōraku Shunsui knelt before a small altar. By now Shirabe had already been cremated, her remains returned to Soul Society from whence they came. He had not meant to linger here. There were others who wished to pay their respects, servants who remembered her time spent alongside them. But while numerous details to work out in daily affairs remained, he found his thoughts dwelling on the past. How many times had he stood on the sidelines, observing the results of a failed mission? And how many times had he mouthed empty condolences to those left behind? Sometimes even when he himself was responsible for their loss…

"You have my thanks," Shunsui murmured at last, before rising to leave the room.

Outside he found Ukitake waiting. His old friend offered a sad smile before falling into step beside him. "You didn't have to come," Kyōraku spoke in a slightly admonishing tone. "The hard part's over."

"Isane felt it was best," the fair-haired noble stated with assurance. "She's finding it harder to sleep now that the baby's almost here. Tossing and turning only keeps us both awake, so this will be good for both of us." He laughed ruefully. "At least, that's what she told me. I think she just wanted the bed to herself for a few nights."

"No chance the kid might pop out while you're here? We are out in the boonies, as it were."

"That won't be an issue. I took the family barge to get here. If word reaches us, I can be back home in less than half an hour. It pays to be prepared," he added when Shunsui just rolled his eyes.

"Showoff."

Yet there was no denying he felt glad to have Jūshirō with him. The whole affair had been more exhausting than expected. And this coming from someone used to handling complicated endeavors.

I didn't always used to feel so tired. Was it just having a shinigami's powers? Did that sustain me even more than I ever realized?

As if by magic, they found themselves walking by another room reserved for rituals. Kyōraku glanced inside. There on a low stand against a wall lay two swords in their sheaths.

I miss you, Katen Kyōkutsu.

No response came. This feeling of absence was a pain Shunsui suspected he would never overcome. Everything else felt mild by comparison. Just one more sorrow added to the collection he kept in his heart.

Shirabe's memory intruded, and once more the past claimed his attention…

It was a common practice for captains to visit the Shinhō Academy on the grounds of scouting out any promising prospects. Kyōraku Shunsui was no exception in that regard. On this particular evening, he took note of no less than eight worthwhile candidates as he strode gallantly if somewhat drunkenly from one classroom to the next, eliciting shocked reactions and excited whispers from those not used to seeing a living legend roaming the halls. Six of those promising young shinigami were from right here in the Seireitei, being of noble stock. Family did tend to breed true in that line, after all. But of the two who had come to them from the Rukongai, one proved to be a girl. And it was to her that his attention naturally drew.

"And have you given any thought as to where you might like to end up post-graduation?" the captain asked with a charming smile after he had made all necessary introductions.

"Well, I was initially hoping to get into the Tenth," the young woman responded with a twinkle in her eye that showed she knew exactly what he was up to. "But someone told me the Ninth does more work in the Rukongai, and that's really where my interests lie."

Ah, Muguruma Kensei's lot. That hotheaded psycho was originally one of the Kenpachi's boys, but after all attempts to have him quietly 'disposed of' through difficult assignments failed, he had been promoted to lieutenant and soon enough a white robe draped his brawny shoulders.

There were other officers present on the same mission as himself. In the matter of winning over fresh material, it often devolved into a dog-eat-dog world, with no tactic being too low or beneath a shinigami's dignity. The Eighth had lost many a worthwhile recruit solely to people enlarging upon the rumors that followed their captain around like a cloud of perfume. Nothing he could do about that. But there were ways to mitigate the damage nonetheless.

"Oh? And who's been spreading lies about me today?" he purred like a big cat.

"I wouldn't want to name any names."

As she spoke, her eyes drifted across the room to where a group of blue-garbed students were fluttering excitedly around another shinigami. When he saw who it was, Shunsui's smile dipped ever so slightly: Akio Sakezuki, Sixth seat of the Tenth Division and a particularly disreputable example from that crew. While a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield, Captain Hiroko Shoumen had no real head in terms of personnel, preferring to judge promotability based on lineage and whether or not it served to further her own ambitions. It was precisely this tendency to turn a blind eye to any faults that led her to accept Sakezuki into her ranks, even after the man had been found guilty of indiscretions in two other divisions that would have seen him executed without fail were he not from minor nobility.

As if sensing his displeasure, Sakezuki turned from addressing his rapt audience only to freeze upon catching sight of the pink cloak. Like a rat spotting a cat, Shunsui thought.

Giving only a moment to let the man sweat a little, he turned back to the source of their contention. "Well, don't believe all the things you hear about me," he drawled with a good-natured grin. "But if you do join up with us, I guarantee it won't take you long to separate fact from fiction."

And at that, he held out his hand to her, a completely unheard-of honor to extend to a mere student. Somewhat taken aback, she accepted the offer, and they shook hands. Shunsui then dipped his hat to her before ambling off. Just have to see if the ol' Kyōraku charm hadn't lost its mojo.

As it turned out, the lady proved quite susceptible to charm. Just not his own.

Sakezuki, for all his faults, could present himself in a very flattering light when needed. Perhaps it was payback for that small fright he had received, or owing to the questions which still lingered over his last dismissal, but he latched onto that poor girl and never let go. Being from the sticks, perhaps she had been flattered beyond the bounds of sense to receive such attention. Her internal warning alarm, so sharp to Shunsui's harmless flirtation, did not pick up on the much darker intent that came with Sakezuki's pursuit. Because before you knew it the two of them were tying the knot.

Shunsui attended the reception afterwards, despite not being invited. You might say, pointedly so. He even walked right up to the bride and groom as they sat receiving their guests to present the lady with his own small gift, a humble token of poetry with which she might remember him.

Maybe he shouldn't have been so keen on rubbing his superior position in the man's face. Because while the bride accepted his well-intentioned gift with a pleased smile, her new husband glared poison at him, practically steaming with jealous rage. Sakezuki kept his head, however, and thanked the captain in a cold voice for attending the party. Kyōraku just beamed and made light of the whole thing.

Word spread, however. Some were wont to whisper he had designs on the young lady. That only made things worse. And more troubling rumors reached his ear soon enough, ones which held far more substance to them.

They met again a few years later. The young lady seemed surprised when Shunsui called out to her in the middle of the Seventh Division headquarters where she was delivering some papers from the Academy to her husband. Perhaps she hadn't expected him to remember her. The older captain chatted with the girl for a while; how nice to see her again, how it was such a coincidence, them running into each other like this. He let her keep right on thinking that.

When it came time for him to leave, he took her hand to lay a kiss upon it, and as he did, the girl winced. Noting this, Shunsui looked at her in feigned surprise, and upon observing the way she bit her lip as though suppressing a cry, he unobtrusively pushed the sleeve of her uniform up a little.

Doing so revealed the dark purple bruise on her wrist.

"You should get that tended to," he spoke in a soft voice laden with meaning.

The girl swallowed and disengaged herself gently. "It serves to remind me," she responded.

Any halfway competent death god could heal such an injury with a minor spell. The fact that she continued to bear the mark spoke volumes; either it was to keep her from forgetting as she said, or her husband insisted on seeing the example of his mistreatment. For sick thrills, or something worse.

The ancient captain rose to his full height to gaze down on her. Gone was any trace of frivolity in his gaze, but the words he spoke next did not sound unkind. "If you find yourself in trouble, please don't hesitate to call on me."

"My thanks, but this is nothing I can't handle." And she met his resolute gaze with one of her own. "I believe in myself."

Shunsui knew when he was beat. It made him feel somewhat flustered, really, to find a woman so confident. Now more than ever he regretted letting this one get away. So all he did was tip his straw hat to her once more, taking care not to let any misgivings show. After exchanging the proper bows, they both departed.

The rumors persisted, even after that unhappy couple announced they were expecting a child. By then, of course, Kyōraku already laid his plans. He had ways of dealing with troublesome elements among their ranks that would make even the Central 46 pale with shock. Bad seeds with nothing more to recommend them than a family name and money did the Gotei 13 no favors. And people had been removed for far lesser infractions. His skillful designs developed with slow, unremarked precision that would alarm no one and leave nary a trace leading back to him.

But even the best-laid plans can be sent askew, and often were, by something completely unexpected.

A few months after the business with Kaien Shiba's marriage and the long-awaited disposal of his father Yudai, Kyōraku was sitting at home perusing a book of erotic poetry when a servant came to inform him they had a visitor. By her bearing, something was clearly off. He only learned how much upon entering the side-chamber where their guest had been sequestered.

As it turned out, there were two guests in attendance, for the man carried in his arms a newborn baby, its skin still fresh and red from the delivery.

Was someone attempting to pass off their child as his? It wouldn't be the first time. "What's the meaning of this?" he inquired once they were alone.

In response, the pallid man held out a letter which Shunsui immediately recognized as one of his own poems. But when he took it, there emerged from the paper a hell butterfly that alighted unerringly upon his skin. He then received his second shock of the night.

'Please forgive me, Captain Kyōraku. I must call upon the aid you once offered me so kindly…'

The rest of the story was laid bare. It served to confirm what others had only whispered about; her husband's insane jealousy, the mistreatment he was wont to bestow upon his wife or anyone he suspected of growing too close to her, the insecurities and suspicions which drove him to commit acts of callous cruelty. She had hoped the prospect of an heir might serve to mellow his temper. In truth, he seemed even less inclined to restrain himself. The first time he struck her after she was already pregnant, the truth finally hit home. She had deceived herself into thinking such a man would ever change. With all her delusions laid bare, a desperate fear began to grow: what might become of her child, living under the same roof as that brute?

Things finally came to a head one night. Drunk and angry, he had struck his wife over some perceived slight and proceeded to kick her viciously in the back before stalking off to hit the bars. As she lay gasping and retching with the long-suffering servants hovering anxiously nearby, her body suddenly betrayed her. Having suffered too much damage, it sought to undo anything which might threaten her continued health, and the horrified young woman miscarried.

It might have ended there. But as she held the poor, lifeless body in her arms, its mother felt seized with mad purpose. And with all her strength, she poured every scrap of healing power she could into that damaged form.

Her efforts were rewarded by breath that came out in shockingly loud cries for one so small. They made quite a pair, mother and child both covered in blood, abused and mistreated. In the giddy rush of relief, she knew what must be done.

'In the morning when he returns, I will tell my husband the truth; that I lost the baby, and sent the remains away to be disposed of. What happens then is my concern alone. Instead, to my shame, I must beg you to take care of the rest. Find a place where my daughter can live, away from the Seireitei, where her father will never find her. I know this is asking much, but there is no one else in whom I can place my trust. I have only my own foolishness to blame. In the end, I was not strong enough. I cannot even give my own child a name. But I told her that I love her. If at all possible, let her know it. Thank you, kind sir.'

In the time it took Shunsui to fully absorb the implications, the dutiful manservant waited shivering. By then the captain had already made up his mind. He knew someone who could be trusted to keep a secret; a faithful and kindhearted person with no more ties to his household.

When Shirabe first went missing, Shunsui did not pursue, out of respect for her decision. But eventually he grew concerned, and made inquiries through discreet channels to locate her. After moving around a great deal, she had finally settled in the First District and now lived alone. Upon confirming this he had made no further attempt to keep track of his old servant. But if there was one person he could depend on to keep a secret and love this sad child, it was her. Sakezuki's own servants loathed him. They would never reveal the truth. So he told the manservant where to go, and what to tell them once he arrived there.

Everything worked out for the best. Shirabe accepted the child into her care. After performing his duty, the loyal retainer then made his way back towards the Seireitei with all due haste. It was raining that night. The servant dashed through the downpour as stinging brambles caught at him.

But as he sought to make his way back to the path, he suddenly found Kyōraku Shunsui standing before him.

No words were exchanged between them. The man was a faithful retainer, so perhaps he had half expected something like this. He certainly didn't appear surprised; more like relieved. Kyōraku knew how difficult it could be to carry a secret like this the rest of your days. The fewer people who knew, the safer they would all be. And the man had earned this much, along with an old soul's respect.

The death was quick. He accepted it with more courage than shinigami had before him.

From that point on Shunsui strove to abide by his previous resolution and give Shirabe her privacy. He arranged for sums of money to be periodically sent to her, because raising a shinigami child would no doubt be expensive. Other than that, it was strictly hands-off.

No more was heard on this topic for several decades, until a girl named Momo Hinamori entered the Academy.

While not wholly unexpected, Kyōraku still found himself troubled on how best to proceed. By now her father was long dead. She need fear nothing on that score, of that he had made sure. But having failed her mother so grievously, should he make an effort to see the girl came to no harm by welcoming her into the Eighth where he could ensure she might live without fear?

Ultimately the decision was taken out of his hands. Someone else came to Momo's rescue first. And from that day on, she was part of Captain Aizen Sosuke's retinue.

Even then Shunsui knew it was not too late to intervene. A man of his stature held great sway in the workings of their society. Had he given the word, neither Momo nor Aizen could have stopped her from being assigned to his division, let people think what they will. In the end he chose to do nothing. Had Shirabe thought it necessary, she would have expressly asked for his aid and received it without fail. Nonetheless Kyōraku made sure to keep a closer eye on the girl than he had her mother. The child of Akio Sakezuki, born to death already… was it grim superstition to suspect that legacy might carry on? Did the specter of her father's violence still hang over this smiling, valiant young shinigami?

He told himself that did not have to be the case. But when he was informed of the first murder she committed, he knew it was a lost cause.

Others followed, which only served to confirm his fears. Momo Hinamori had inherited her father's hatred. When she killed the Fifth Seat of her division, he thought Aizen might have had enough and just dispose of the girl. But this, too, the Captain of the Fifth chose to overlook. The affair was hushed up along with all the rest. Only after the failed execution of Rukia Kuchiki and the Autumn War did everything finally make sense.

Aizen's goals were grand indeed, his plans far-reaching. To pull them off, he was willing to utilize some of the most vicious, vengeful souls in Soul Society. Since that day Shunsui had often wondered if Unohana Retsu knew about Momo's parentage. That woman had treated generations of shinigami. Her insight into their souls would have enabled her to recognize a blood relation. Not that this mattered in the end. Another footnote to one family's tragic history.

For this, too, Kyōraku blamed himself.

"Hey." Ukitake nudged his shoulder. "You're dwelling on the past again, aren't you?"

His troubled brow cleared in a flash. "No, no," Shunsui lied smooth as silk. "More like the future! For instance, I see two old friends enjoying a particularly fine brew in this very house tonight. Care to join me toasting the dearly departed, old man?"

This cavalier act was nothing new to him, so his friend thought no ill of it. "I would, yes."

"While we're at it, you can tell me all about married life. Do a good enough job and I might even consider it myself!"

"Yes, Shunsui," the long-suffering soul sighed as his friend draped an arm around his shoulder and led him off. "Whatever you say."

Isane Kotetsu, head of the Kotetsu Clan and Captain of Ibis Company, woke in her bed feeling troubled. She might have dreamed; if so it had left no recollection. But the very idea troubled her. As so often before, she reached over to her husband for comfort, only to find his side of the bed empty.

That's right… he's off with Shunsui for a few days. Why did I ever agree to that?

I seem to recall you practically pushing him out the door. Something about needing your sleep?

I'm 1,300 years old and pregnant. Who wouldn't be moody?

Any luck picking out a name yet?

Quiet, you.

With a frustrated sigh the weary noblewoman rolled over on one side and shut her eyes.

A few seconds later, though, she slowly opened them again.

"Nemu-chan?"

Crouched at the edge of her bed, Nemu Kurotsuchi stared stone-faced back. "Yes, Nee-san?"

Isane swallowed, hardly daring to move a muscle. "What are you doing in my bedroom?"

"Waiting for you to wake up."

When further elaboration was not forthcoming, she decided to ask. "But why?"

"Because I am pregnant."

"Oh."

It took Isane a few seconds to digest this information. When it did, however, she shot bolt upright in bed. "PREGNANT?!"

"No way! That's incredible!"

Both women looked over as Isane's sister Kiyone popped up beside them. "Kiyone?!" The frazzled captain did a double-take. "Were you under my bed this whole time?"

"That's not important," her younger sibling tut-tutted, wagging a supercilious finger. "What matters is we've got another baby on the way! Who's the father? No, wait, lemme, guess… hold on! What am I thinking? We need to get drunk for this kind of conversation!"

Isane shut her eyes at the prospect of a migraine approaching. "Kiyone, we can't drink. We're pregnant."

The idea of her adopted baby sister having a child left the captain wishing she could get plastered, actually. Kiyone, of course, was much more sang-froid on the subject. "No sweat, Nee-san. I'll belt enough booze for both of you! Oh, that's right, you need your rest. Gotta look good when Nii-sama comes home! C'mon, Nemu-chan, let's talk turkey!"

She grabbed the lieutenant's hand and hauled her out the door. Several security guards peered in uncertainly, wondering if their services were required, but Isane waved them off before collapsing back in bed.

First Lady Shiba, then me, Lady Shihoin, and now Nemu. Should I be worried about this?

Still debating the merits of paranoia, she eventually drifted back to sleep.

There were accusations. Explanations. Grief and recrimination. Afterwards, Mom and Dad told them that they would be ordering out tonight from a restaurant of their choice. It felt like a bribe, something done to encourage children not to cry.

But that was an hour away. By silent agreement Hiruko and Shotoku wound up in her room. They both sat on the floor by the bed. Neither knew what to say. Their mother would be leaving them. Not right away, but still… the prospect had never even occurred to them. They both knew people from school who had come from broken homes, living with one parent or another, whether it be the result of death or divorce. Hiruko for one had always been proud of her family. Mom and Dad weren't technically married, but each worked hard, Mom had her own store, and they were both shinigami to boot, and…

And it wasn't fair.

"This isn't fair," she whispered, knees tucked up to her chest and arms wrapped around them.

"Yeah," her brother murmured softly beside her.

"We didn't do anything wrong!"

"No, we didn't," he agreed with her.

Hiruko rounded on him. "Are you just going to sit there and agree with everything I say?! Get MAD!"

Grabbing a stuffed rabbit off her bed, she hurled it roughly against a wall. The initial shock and disbelief was fading, to be replaced with anger. Just as fast, though, came sadness, and shame, such that the girl slumped back down with a muttered, "Sorry."

"It's alright."

He sounded so peaceful he might as well be asleep. When Hiruko looked at him, Shotoku had a distracted look on his face, as though his mind was a million miles away. Only a little over a year separated them, yet she and her brother sometimes seemed as different as night and day, such that Hiruko had to wonder if they were really related at all.

"It's not fair," she repeated. "You're going to graduate in three years! Why can't they wait at least until I do too?! What's the big rush? I want Mom to be there! I want our whole family to be there! Mom and Dad, Aunt Karin and Yuzu, Grandpa, Uncle Byakuya, Noboru…"

Her words trailed off desperately. With infuriating calmness her brother replied, "They're shinigami, they can't come by whenever we want."

"So what?! There's literally millions of shinigami in the world! So why do they need Mom back so bad?! WE need her more than THEY do!" She kicked at the carpet in adolescent frustration. "It's all that stupid Aizen's fault! If he were gone, we wouldn't have to do any of this! No protection, or being walked home from school, or… ahhh, any of it! I wish he was DEAD!"

"He is dead, remember?"

"I know that, shut up!" Hiruko pounded the floor with a fist, and when that didn't help, she did it again, and again, until the pain felt real enough to take notice.

"Stop that." Reaching over, Shotoku took hold of her arm, holding on while she struggled to break loose. Eventually the stubborn girl managed to slide free, but by this point there didn't seem any point left, and she had to settle for flopping back against the bed. Hiruko kicked at the carpet in a bitter funk, but it did nothing to improve her mood.

Worn out from crying, Hiruko felt miserable. Her whole world had turned upside down. Always before, she could mostly forget about the mystical aspect of their home life. Unable to see those strange things like the rest of her family, she had told herself it ultimately didn't really matter. But now, the world of the afterlife had intruded on her own in a way that was impossible to ignore. And life would never be the same.

She felt an arm steal around her shoulders. Lost and helpless, the girl leaned in to rest against her older sibling. The siblings took comfort in their shared misery.

"I'm glad I've got you, O-Nii-san," Hiruko grumbled, sounding tired.

Hearing this made him smile. "I'm glad too."

His sister only called him that once in a blue moon, but it felt nice to hear all the same. The two of them were close enough in age that there had never been much distance in their relationship. Both watched the same TV shows, read the same books, that sort of thing. They didn't always agree on whether a show was good, or if a celebrated author had proven to be a complete waste of time. Every now and then, though, his little sister needed a big brother, and he got to be there for her. Shoto often pitied those children who grew up without siblings. At times like these especially it helped to have someone close to confide in. He didn't want to scare Hiruko, but he felt just as lost as her right now.

It felt good to be a big brother to someone. Mom often spoke reverentially of her own Nii-sama and how much he loved them, but right now, Uncle Byakuya was the one pulling their family apart. Wasn't there anything they could do? Maybe talk to him, ask him to change his mind? Surely Aunt Yoruichi would listen to them. But Uncle wasn't here. He and his wife were in Soul Society, where they couldn't reach.

Beside him Hiruko appeared to have nodded off. This whole thing had proven too much for them. Right now the only thing that held any appeal was to curl up and go to sleep, in the hope that this would all be some kind of bad dream once they awoke. There was no reason not to, really.

As he felt himself slipping away, his sister murmured, "Ba-san…"

Uncle… Ji-san… Ba-san… if only we… could…

When Kujaku found himself in a darkened room he didn't recognize, he realized this must be a dream. And yet at the same time, something felt off.

Having vast experience with dreams, both his own and those of others, the boy felt he had a pretty good grasp of their intrinsic makeup. You could depend on certain things. They might not seem to make sense in terms of the real world, but by moving with the flow of thought and memory rather than striving to make it conform to your own standards, one could slip into the dream rather easily.

That was not the case here. Kujaku had never felt so out of place as he did now. Like he didn't belong. His eyes perceived little in the dim light. And his breathing… it seemed so loud! Since when did he notice that? Or need to breathe in dreams at all, really?

"This is weird," he whispered, flinching at the sound of his own voice.

Right then something moved off to one side, and the dream-walker quickly looked in that direction. For a moment he could make out nothing. But as he stared intently, not daring to move, things slowly came into focus. There was a large canopy bed over there. Transparent silk draperies hung from the bedposts, with someone wrapped in blankets. A faint scent of incense lingered in the air, and from behind a set of closed doors, he heard a frog croaking peacefully off in the distance. Nighttime noises. The balm of night lay over this room.

Curiosity got the better of him, overruling any other concerns he might have. Creeping along, the youth stole quietly over, wincing at the feel of his bare feet on the cold wooden floorboards. Cold? In dreams?

At last he stood beside the bed, and reaching over, Kujaku lifted aside the silk draperies to get a better view.

To his amazement, he found himself looking at the sleeping face of Isane Kotetsu.

Now Kujaku felt completely at a loss. He knew who she was, of course. Lady Kotetsu was one of the captains of the Gotei 7 and a noblewoman to boot, much like their Uncle Byakuya. Several times before she had visited the real world to help whenever Mother or Father had concerns about their children's growth. He dimly recalled her as being a kind, nice young lady who seemed more uncomfortable among people than not.

As the tall noblewoman lay sleeping peacefully, it occurred to Kujaku what must be happening here. He and Hiruko were sharing dreams! This was a rare occurrence, and up 'til now, the communion usually occurred by way of his power. After careful consideration, they had realized a while back that while his power allowed him to cross the border between sleeping and waking thought, when Hiruko dreamt, she actually crossed over into the spirit world. This allowed her to experience the realm of the dead in a way that no one else could. It was both an advantage and a threat, since her whole spirit made the journey and not just the mind. That would explain why this place felt so real to him. For all intents and purposes, it was. Kujaku's soul had entered Soul Society.

But if that was the case, why did he wind up here, of all places? And for that matter, where was Hiruko? What brought him to Lady Isane's side?

As he stared, the silver-haired woman twisted fitfully, rolling onto her side to nuzzle against a large pillow. It was then Kujaku noticed her swollen stomach pushing out against her sleeping robe. He then recalled Mother mentioning a few months back that Isane was pregnant. Her husband Lord Jūshirō was not in bed with her, however, and he guessed that this combined with the pregnancy was making Isane uncomfortable.

"Where… are you…?"

Kujaku froze when the captain spoke, only to relax upon realizing this was nothing more than sleep-rambling on her part. People tended to do that when they were upset. Father sometimes talked in his sleep, but nothing that ever made sense.

None of which answered the question of how or why he had come to be here.

Unless…

Isane Kotetsu had been lieutenant of Squad Four in the Gotei 13 for centuries. She worked directly beneath Unohana Retsu, and was the captain's closest confidante. This meant there were things about Unohana that only she knew, even if Isane wasn't fully aware of it herself.

Could there be something here he was meant to learn? A secret, maybe? One that would help their family fight back against the forces that threatened them even today?

Without realizing it Kujaku found himself already reaching out a hand. He had never tried this before, trying to broach the dreaming world of another person directly. But he was a spirit now; that could make the process easier, or at least feasible.

Isane shuddered again, as though in pain, and for just a moment the boy wondered if he even had the right to do this. But by then his fingers had already touched her mass of curly silver hair. It was too late now. Might as well make the attempt…

With shocking violence, he found himself pulled into dreams.

People in shinigami robes ran back and forth, shouting and carrying piles of documents. Periodically they dumped them on a low table, where Isane Kotetsu was attempting to make heads or tails out of all these interdepartmental memoranda. Easier said than done. Papers were pulled out of her hands and replaced with new ones before she could even make out a few words. It was maddening, and she looked around in desperation for help. Where was Captain Unohana? Why wasn't she here to take care of this?

Wait… I'm the captain now. That's why.

"This isn't working!" a man spoke vehemently. "Where's the lieutenant?"

"Someone find him!" another voice shouted.

Isane looked up in confusion. The lieutenant? Who's that? If not me, then I think it's…

Oh no…

"Nii-sama?" she whispered in horror.

And just like that the shinigami changed into courtiers. Still they scurried around in a panic, jostling into one another and shouting contradictory orders. Only now Isane knelt not before a table, but at the bedside of her older brother.

Tadashi Kotetsu, the Lord of their house, was dying.

"Please!" she gasped while clutching at his hand, watching him struggle to draw in every breath. "Nii-sama, don't go! Just hold on!" Desperately she looked around at the useless flock of honking geese and shouted, "WHERE IS CAPTAIN UNOHANA?! SOMEONE FIND HER!"

As she spoke, Tadashi's eyes cracked open, and he looked at her for the first time in hours. "I'm… sorry…"

Isane stared back blankly, tears pouring down her face. "For what?"

"She was… crying," he whispered back in the voice of a dying man. "I… hurt her… so sorry… didn't… mean to… tell her I'm… sorry…"

After this he began coughing, body convulsing with such violence that they had to pull her away from him lest he injure her. On her knees, Isane could only watch in horror, able to only take in quick shuddering breaths through her mouth. The family swarmed around her, preventing her from seeing Tadashi anymore as they mouthed comforting platitudes in her ear. She knew what they wanted; as the next in line, she must be protected, kept away from anything that might risk the loss of their new queen. They had already written her wonderful loving brother off as dead, and were turning their hungry sights on a new prize.

No… not me. Not me! It's not my place! It's his! I have to stop this! I have to find Unohana! She'll save him! She has to!

Isane stood up and ran. Nothing could stop her. She fled from that house, full of whispers and plotting, towards the Fourth Division barracks in search of the one person who might keep her world from collapsing, the gracious and loving goddess whom both she and her brother had idolized for their entire lives. But Unohana was nowhere to be found, and feeling Tadashi's life slipping away with every moment, she tore out of the Seireitei in search of her mentor. Perhaps the captain was out here, tending to the sick and injured as she often exhorted them to do? But all the doors were closed, the lights extinguished. No matter how she beat upon them, the only answer she received was cold silence. They couldn't help her. None of them.

Before she knew it Isane was racing through the trackless regions beyond even the limits of Zaraki in search of salvation. Out here, in this place unspoiled by man, the Fourth often came to seek much sought after herbs and medicines which could be found nowhere else. Yet here, too, she met with defeat. None of the secret grottos or valleys they had cultivated together held any clue to Unohana's whereabouts.

"Where are you? Why can't I FIND YOU?!"

Her words rang through the mountains, and brought back only echoes. Above her the stars shone down like breadcrumbs left in a trail.

Of course! Why didn't I think of it before?!

Feeling pleased with herself, the giddy healer dropped down and began to inscribe a circle upon the ground which she divided into quadrants.

"Heart of the south, eye of the north, finger of the west, foot of the east, arrive with the wind and depart with the rain! Bakudō #58: Summon of the Tracking Sparrows!"

The circle glowed. Numbers and symbols passed swiftly across them as Isane waited hungrily for a sign to lead her on her way. But after a few seconds, her heart fell.

Before her the tracking spell lay empty. No coordinates appeared. It was like the target no longer even existed.

Isane wept for a short time then, in mingled grief and shame. Now there could be no doubt that she had failed. But soon enough the truth of her predicament dawned. She was out here in the middle of nowhere, while at home, her brother lay dying. How could she have been such a fool, abandoning her place at his side to come rushing out here on this fool's errand? What if he died while she was out? Isane could never forgive herself if that happened.

Numbly she looked all around. Where even am I? Wasting any more time was out of the question. She had to take the swiftest path back to Tadashi's side. Once more the shining circle caught her eye. Yes, that would be the best, but… what if it didn't work again?

There was no time to debate. Recasting the spell, Isane pressed her palms down upon it and concentrated on her brother's location.

Her perseverance was rewarded with success this time. But even as the mystical numbers that would guide her steps back to her brother appeared, the anxious noblewoman had to squint in puzzlement.

Why were two locations showing?

A line of light shot from the tracking spell. It led back in what she had originally determined must be the direction of the Seireitei. Yet at the same time, a second beam split off from the first and went racing into the darkened forest.

Isane looked in disbelief between the two routes indicated. Never in her experience had anything like this happened before. At first she felt certain the spell must be malfunctioning as a result of her grief or ineptitude. She knew that getting home to try and help her lord and brother must be her first priority.

When she began to move, however, it was in the direction of the second beam, which Isane followed ever deeper into unexplored wilderness.

Kujaku felt resistance then. A force, attempting to keep him out. But the dream mage was determined not to fail.

"Don't stop!" he insisted in hushed tones. "Let me see!"

For some reason he found himself placing a hand on Isane's stomach, and felt a shiver pass through them both… or was it all three? And then he was diving back into the dream.

"Where am I now?"

Hiruko idly pushed a chair near a desk and watched it roll away, only for the legs to sprout feet and walk right back to where it was before.

"Gross," she informed the chair as it settled comfortably into position once more.

From there she examined her surroundings. She was indoors, for one. The room itself looked enormous, with a ceiling so high it became lost in shadow. But light shone from the walls themselves, which appeared to be transparent, filled with a shifting amorphous sludge that glowed in numerous colors, limning her body in hues of neon yellow, hot pink and lime green. Despite this there were shadows everywhere. Strange objects lurked about the room whose purpose she couldn't begin to guess at. It felt like being inside someone's body for some reason. The place just seemed organic.

"Kuchiki?" she murmured hopefully. But her dream playmate made no response. This was nothing new. Kuchiki didn't always come when she callled. He was funny like that.

There was nothing to do but start walking. So Hiruko did. At the very least she appeared to be indoors, which was an improvement on the times she came to in a desert or other weird landscape. Things she couldn't begin to describe swam or floated listlessly in round vats or aquariums in the walls. She stopped to make faces at them before pressing on.

The carpeted floor in her bare feet felt surprisingly nice. The largest thing in the room resembled a telescope, basically the same size and configuration of one she saw when the family took a trip to the local observatory. Except the large end that normally pointed up at the sky was instead aimed down at a great glass bowl several yards across. Huge lenses shifted in and out in the manner of a microscope, as though it were trying to get a better look at the contents of the bowl.

Hiruko's curiosity got the better of her, but when she drew closer to get a better look, the only thing she could make out in the container was more green slime.

"Gross squared."

Heaving a frustrated sigh, she trotted off on an aimless route. Some clothes were neatly hung on a rack nearby, like someone had gone to take a shower. Whoever they were, she hoped they came back soon so she could ask to be let out. There were no doors that she could see. An comfortable impression like she was being watched had been growing by the second.

"Why does Shoto have all the fun, useful dreams?" she muttered to herself, flipping idly through some folders left on a couch. They were filled with diagrams and written formulae that made little sense.

Right then a noise came from behind her. The girl turned, and immediately wished she hadn't.

The slime was moving.

It spiraled up from the center, like a long twisting eel, only to arc down and touch the floor until the whole thing had emerged. The mass of gunk shivered before contracting in on itself. A hissing sound emerged, along with steam. And between one breath and the next, a naked man stood there.

His back was to her. Perhaps realizing this, the man strode over and snagged a pair of red silk hakama trousers off the rack. Slipping them on, he snagged a colorful purple robe and slid it over his shoulders, knotting the sash securely before stalking off. He never looked at Hiruko and acknowledged her in the slightest, for which she felt very glad. For her part, she stood very still.

The man's hair gleamed in the light as though wet, but he made no move to dry himself off. Instead he stalked assuredly over to the desk and touched its surface. Holographic screens appeared over the tabletop filled with even more mind-boggling arcana. A long-stemmed pipe came out of his pocket which he lit and puffed on while observing information scroll by faster than she could read.

When it ended, the man reached down, grasped the edge of the desk with both hands and flipped it across the room to smash against a wall.

"DAMMIT!"

After this he stood there with hands on his hips fuming. The whole time Hiruko hardly dared to breathe. She darted quick nervous glances around in hopes of spying an exit, but nothing presented itself. Just when she was wondering where might be a good place to hide, the man turned his head and looked at her.

Their eyes met. For a while they just stared at one another. Then he stated in bored tones, "Isolate unauthorized element and catalogue for future study," before picking up a memo pad that had fallen off the desk and scrolling through it.

As he did, the floor beneath Hiruko swallowed her.

Encased in darkness, the girl let out a scream and began pounding on the walls. Red lights flashed before her eyes, but before panic could set in, they all went white, and quick as a flash she found herself standing in the same room as before.

To say Hiruko was shocked would be an understatement. And her host appeared to share the same sentiment. He regarded her still standing there with a measure of surprise, eyebrows lifting as he sucked on his teeth.

"What's the meaning of this?" he demanded in a scratchy lilt.

Breathing hard, Hiruko clenched and unclenched her fists to try and rid herself of the impression that she had just been eaten. Fight or flight instinct made her heart pound, but nausea at the experience prevented her from moving for fear that she might vomit.

As such, she made no move when the man crossed the room to stand before her. He produced a gold-rimmed monocle from his pocket and bent down to examine the girl through it. What he saw through it made his brows contract together. "'Authorized?' Since when? Let me see, let me see…"

He reached up a hand as though to touch her face. And without even thinking about it Hiruko punched him right in the jaw.

At least, that was the idea. Instead red lines of energy shot out of the floor to wrap around her wrist, leaving that trembling fist hovering an inch before his face. When she tried a kick, the same thing happened to both legs, leaving her immobile.

"LET ME GO!" the frightened teen screamed, almost in tears.

Her captor's head tilted at an almost painful angle, and he was just drawing breath to speak when a flashing message appeared on his monocle. At this, his shining eyes widened.

"Ah!" he breathed. A slow smile spread up his face. "Well, well, well! That explains everything…"

The man emitted a bark of laughter, spun about and did a little jump, pumping his fist in midair. He came back down and stood regarding her with a triumphant expression that made Hiruko feel horrible. Like she was naked in front of him; it was not a good feeling.

Rather than hurting her, man took off his monocle and gave a click of his teeth. Immediately the restraining bands disappeared. Hiruko almost fell over from the lack of restraint, but the man caught her by the shoulder. His grip was firm but surprisingly gentle.

"Let's have a talk, shall we?"

Hiruko could only follow as he led her along. Two egg-shaped chairs rose silently out of the ground to float before them. Leaving her by one, the man seated himself opposite, crossing his leg at the knee and flashing a smile full of teeth that in no way seemed friendly.

"Won't you sit down?" he spoke in an admonishing tone while still looking quite pleased. "I find myself eager to hear what you have to tell me!"

There seemed no other alternative. Until she woke up or the dream ended, Hiruko knew she was stuck here. As uncomfortable as this situation made her, though, she got the impression this man meant her no harm… for now. And so, with a measure of reluctance, she settled into the cushioned seat. It felt rather nice; almost like floating on air. With that they faced off, the preteen in pajamas and the bare-chested psycho in a bathrobe.

"So, you are the Ojou-sama's child, eh?" the man asked suddenly. "Which one are you?"

She frowned at his rudeness. "Hiruko Kurosaki."

"Hmmm…" Still puffing on his pipe, he again titled his head at that odd angle, half-lidded eyes growing thoughtful. "Kurosaki? Did your father insist on that name? An aesthetic choice, or perhaps an attempt to throw off any investigation?" He flashed her a look, and giggled in delight. "Names are important, you know. Perhaps yours is just close enough to the truth that your family can be happy with it. What's in a name, after all?" And he laughed once more.

Hiruko had no idea what he meant by that, but it sounded insulting. "What's your name?" she snapped with an accusing glare.

He removed the pipe, smoke drifting lazily from between his bared teeth. "Kurotsuchi Mayuri. But you may think of me as your magic uncle! So call me… Ojii-san!" And he shot her a wink, chuckling and fuming good-naturedly.

This was undoubtedly one of the weirdest dreams she had ever had, rivaling those of her brother. That being said, it opened up potential new avenues of information. This man must be a spirit in Soul Society, and one who knew her mother. She remembered hearing members of Uncle Byakuya's entourage refer to her mother as 'Ojousama' before. Could he be one of them?

"How do you know my mother…?" When he gave her a testy look, she added, "… O… jii-san."

At this Mayuri brightened, all smiles and warmth again. "Why, hasn't anyone ever told you? What a lapse on your parents' part!" He waved an expansive hand about the room. "She is my Patroness! I owe a great deal of the success in my scientific endeavors over the past few years to her limitless largesse, as it were. Yes, yes," he chortled, eyes twinkling in the dim light. "I owe your mother… very much."

He seemed to be drinking in the sight of her. It made Hiruko's flesh crawl. Before she could continue, however, the 'Ojii-san' was off again.

"I can only assume that once again Providence has sought to succor me in my moment of self-doubt," he rambled on without a care for her discomfort. "Events have proceeded to the point where nothing more can be done, it irks me to admit. I already made all the necessary preparations. They have been a long time coming, for as much as my skills have enabled untold triumphs throughout my lifetime, it seems a final solution is in order. Which is why it gives me such joy that we have this opportunity to converse, little Hiruko. For you see…" And here he gave a helpless shrug. "I'm dying."

"Is it cancer?" she asked.

Mayuri drew up short, frowning at her. "No. Not cancer. Ghosts don't get cancer, you little id–"

A strange thing happened then. It was as though Kurotsuchi was suddenly flung back in his seat. White-knuckled hands clutched the armguards while his lips pressed tightly together. "Little… lady!" he finally gasped before sagging as though spent.

The sight of this made her actually feel concern for him. "Are you alright?" she asked, rising up and reaching out a hand.

Mopping his brow with a handkerchief from his robe, the sullen scientist regarded her in puzzlement. He sniffed, blew his nose and tossed the fabric off to one side. "No, in fact. What you just witnessed was a manifestation of my illness. You see, Hiruko-chan," and he scrunched into the cushions as though getting more comfy, "some time ago your Ojii-san came back from a deathly encounter with an old research specimen. In ways that I cannot fathom, the experience left me altered on a fundamental level. For years now I have sought to undo this shameless debasement of my privacy. Yet try as I might, the illness persists. To be perfectly frank, it has only gotten stronger! So with every passing day there is less of what I recognize as… me."

His gaze drifted off to one side, voice descending to a low, dangerous pitch. "And I will not tolerate such a violation."

He then seemed to recollect himself and turned an oversized grin back on her. "But it matters not! Just as before, when my son achieved victory for me over that braggart Kisuke, the universe has presented the surprising solution without my intervention. For now, I have a grandchild!"

Against her wishes, Hiruko's face scrunched up in a very ugly moue of distaste. Fortunately Mayuri either misinterpreted the expression or didn't care to begin with, for he beamed in a terrible way.

"Not something that needs to be trumpeted from the rooftops like those pompous nobles do, but yes, my lineage is secure. I have safeguarded all necessary research and will initiate the execution codes for anything too dangerous to be studied by, shall we say, inferior intellects. Once the details are complete, my death will proceed at a time and place of my choosing. A worthy sendoff for one of my accomplishments to Soul Society will do."

His foot tapped restlessly against the floor, in anxiety or eagerness, she couldn't say. "I haven't ironed out the details. Perhaps the forthcoming operation will present me with an opportunity? I am prepared for multiple eventualities should that prove to be the case, rest assured!"

It felt like he was talking to himself by this point. Hiruko decided there was no sense sticking around any longer. "That's great. Can I go now?" She began to rise.

"Hiruko-chan…"

A change in his voice made her hesitate. When she looked at him, Mayuri Kurotsuchi did not seem quite so frightening or disturbing as before. In some strange way she couldn't possibly understand, he resembled her grandfather Isshin. Almost… kindly. It took her by such total surprise all she said was, "Yes, Ojii-san?"

"By now you must have been told that you are in terrible danger," he spoke in regretful tones. "Unohana will never stop haunting your family. If you are to have a future, I'm sorry to say that woman must be done away with. And you just might be the person to do it."

Slowly Hiruko sank back into her seat. "What do I have to do?"

She didn't feel scared now. More like excited. Here for once was a person talking to her like she, Hiruko Kurosaki, had a chance to fight back against the monsters circling her family on Earth and beyond.

He smiled faintly, perhaps approving of her eagerness. "There is a prophecy, you see, one that came courtesy of your great-grandfather Ginrei Kuchiki. In it he foretold how a child of that house will prove to be Unohana's bane."

Mayuri uttered a cough and fidgeted then as though there were an itch in his shoulder blades. "Bear in mind, as a man of science I put no truck in soothsayers and fortunetellers, but from analyzing events of the recent past, it is my strictly logical conclusion that Unohana herself is operating from the position that this foretelling is accurate. Call it a self-fulfilling prophecy if you must, but if she believes it, then her actions will proceed in due course. She perceives your generation to be her mortal enemy. One that holds the power to destroy all her works and blunt any plans she may conceive."

"I want to help!" Hiruko stated in a rush. "I'll do whatever I can to save everyone!"

A twist of his lips brought the old Mayuri back for a moment. "Just like your father." He then regained that avuncular persona from before. "Be that as it may, you are facing some of the most powerful and dangerous entities in existence. The remaining vasto lorde represent a continued threat to all life. And with their help, Aizen Sosuke seeks to rule over both the living and the dead. But there are others who will deal with that crew. Which leaves the Witch. Right now Unohana is damaged, but if anything, I suspect she is all the more lethal for it. So you must take measures to meet her from a position of strength."

By now she was so keyed up she could scream. "I can fight! Do you have a weapon? Something that'll defeat her?"

"My greatest weapon has always been knowledge. Don't give me that look, young lady!" he pronounced in offense when she wrinkled her nose. " I'm not simply spouting allegory here. Whom do you think you're dealing with? Of course I have a solution!"

Mayuri rose to his feet. He passed one blue-nailed hand through the air, and between them there rose a small plinth from the floor. Tracing his longest nail over its surface in intricate patterns, a hole opened up in the side. He then reached in and retrieved a small red marble, which he held out to her.

"What is it?" Hiruko asked even as she accepted the offering.

"Knowledge, my dear. Everything I can offer to prepare you should you ever find yourself facing that woman across the battlefield. When the time comes, it will activate."

It looked like a crystallized drop of blood nestled in the palm of her hand. Uncertainly Hiruko peered at it, but other than a sparkling glint in its surface, the thing appeared wholly unremarkable. Nonetheless she slipped the orb into her pocket. "Thanks, Ojii-san."

"There's more," he spoke urgently. Drops of perspiration were forming on Mayuri's temple, and he appeared to be speaking with an effort. A tic had developed in his right eye. "No matter what your parents or any of those buffoonish captains might say, the surest weapon against Retsu is her own sword, Minazuki. Contained within it is her power as a shinigami, a force nearly unsurpassed in all the annals of history! Your parents stole that weapon and hid it years past, but if you are to stand the greatest chance against her, you must bring Minazuki into the light!"

While having such a weapon certainly seemed an appealing prospect, this tactic left her with doubts. "Wouldn't giving her back her soul cutter just make Unohana more powerful?"

"It depends who's holding the handle," Mayuri sneered. "A shinigami's zanpakutō can be their strongest ally or their most deadly weakness. And it is my belief you will find a friend in Minazuki. She loves her mistress still, of that I have no doubt. Use it to your advantage!"

This made sense the more Hiruko thought about it. This reminded her of the way Tatsuki-sensei described a fight, where you took advantage of any opening an opponent gave you. "Okay," she decided, slipping the marble into her pajama pocket. "Thanks, Ojii-san."

"My… pleasure." One hand rose up shaking toward her, only for Mayuri to violently clamp it back to his side with a snarl. "You should go now," he growled. "I am… not feeling myself, and would be alone."

"Uhhh…" The girl glanced around, twisting her feet in embarrassment. "That usually happens on its own. I don't know how to make the dream end."

"No?" Mayuri looked her up and down with a sniff. "How unreliable. Perhaps I'll do research on the topic to fix that? No matter," he waved an idle hand. "You can stay with Nemu."

So saying, the floor ate her again.

"Take care, little one," his voice rang in that confined space. "I'm pleased we had this chance to talk."

The protuberance sank out of sight, taking the girl with it. Once assured of this, Mayuri crossed his hands behind his back before heading off to continue with his other projects. He had many avenues of investigation still open to him. It would be a shame to leave certain of them unfinished.

"Thank you," he said to no one in particular, and was surprised to find he liked the sound of it.

Mayuri Kurotsuchi could not say if the feeling of pride he felt at this moment fully derived from himself or not. But in this instance it seemed utterly appropriate from any angle. And with that he was more than content.

In the midst of Kiyone demonstrating how to properly suck a lime, Nemu Kurotsuchi's head turned sharply to one side. Emerald eyes narrowed ever so slightly in that otherwise dispassionate face.

"Put the lime in the co-co-nut, shake it all up, and… huh? Nemu-chan? Where'dja go?"

Admittedly Kiyone had been hitting the sauce pretty hard tonight. But she could have sworn her guest of honor was sitting right there a moment ago. And now she wasn't.

Huh… well, better go find her!

Isane ran with no clue of where she might be going or what awaited. The forest grew darker, colder around her. Something terrible waited up ahead, of that she was certain.

Kujaku felt it too.

Something about this dream felt wrong. As though he were seeing everything through tinted glass, warping his perceptions. More and more, he was getting the impression that this was a deadly dream, the kind he had experienced only rarely.

All of a sudden Isane drew up short. "Tadashi?"

She peered around, then reached up a hesitant hand. Without warning a blue spark of electricity snapped around her fingers, briefly illuminating some kind of barrier before them.

Kujaku strove desperately to make out what lay ahead, but all he could see was darkness. The distortion had grown worse. He glanced at Isane in the hopes that she would continue forward despite this blockade. But instead she held back. And by her face, she had no intention of going any further. Frustrated, the youth stretched a hand forth to where the barrier had appeared. If it was only part of the memory, perhaps he might continue ahead without her?

"Don't go in there."

For a moment the dream mage thought it was just Isane talking to herself again. But when he looked over, to his surprise he found the captain looking straight at him.

"If you find out," the frightened woman spoke in a hoarse whisper, "she'll kill you!"

The threat was real. He knew that much. Yet all the same, Kujaku found himself saying, "I have to know."

And with that he slipped through the magic wall. Isane lunged forward to try and stop him, only to be restrained by the barrier. "WAIT! PLEASE!"

It hurt to see how afraid she was; for him, or herself, maybe both. But a conviction had grown within him. There was something important past here. So he resolved to take that risk.

Now the determined teen moved through the night alone. But that drunken haze from before had lifted, allowing him to see everything clearly. The guiding line continued leading him on securely. How much farther did he have to go?

Ahead, a blue light flickered through the trees, like a will-o-the-wisp, and Kujaku found himself slowing without reason. Was this what Isane had done back then?

A shock went through him when Isane suddenly slipped by. But she was transparent, more like a ghost than the real person from before. Was this part of the memory, and not really her?

No chance to ask. The trees ended at a clearing. Both of them approached cautiously, Isane clearly striving not to give any sign of her presence. She held back, unwilling to risk exposing herself. Kujaku had no such qualms. While trembling in a mixture of fear and excitement, he drifted ever closer towards the source of that witch-light.

A moan reached his ears, causing him to freeze involuntarily.

What he had initially thought to be a bonfire turned out to be glowing blue symbols drawn on the ground. But they were moving, twisting and crawling over one another in the manner of insects feeding off a corpse. The sight repelled him for reasons he couldn't explain.

Even worse than this was the woman in a white cloak hunched over at the center of the mystic constellation. Her feet were planted on the ground, hands splayed and fingers digging spastically into the dirt as she let out a painful sound. Her mouth opened wide, smooth black hair astray, face twisted so as to be unrecognizable. At the same time, he felt certain they had met somewhere before.

Other than the cloak she was naked. At first Kujaku felt perverse watching the woman like this. His eyes were drawn against their will to her large breasts gleaming with sweat. Crouched on her haunches like an animal, twisting and baring her teeth, there was still something undeniably beautiful about her. Never in his life had he seen a woman like this. He knew it was awful to think such a thing, and that he should look away. So why didn't he? Was he really so low, so lewd?

"A prince should know better."

The words came unbidden, like a magic spell. Upon remembering them he jerked his head to one side, feeling sick and ashamed of himself. For a time the distraught youth stared with stoic fixation at the symbols forming and clashing beneath him, striving to coax some sense out of their fluid path.

As he did, an almighty scream sounded. At first he thought it was the lady, only to realize an instant later that this was a man. And it was coming from the symbols themselves.

The situation made him feel as though he might be going mad. Abruptly that horrible wail died down, fading to nothing. As it did, however, a new cry split the air. Short and repeated over and over, it took him only a moment to recognize the sound of a newborn.

This time he couldn't help himself. He looked over, to find the lady had collapsed. The eldritch patterns had faded, so that he had trouble making anything out clearly. But as he watched the white mass shifted, bringing something out from beneath it.

There in her arms, gleaming wet and red in the faint light, a baby cried with every shuddering breath it took, eyes tightly shut and tiny fists flailing as though to beat back whatever had been done to it.

The new mother wore a tired yet triumphant smile. Though obviously drained, she produced a clean cloth and began wiping her child dry. Then she took a knife and cut the umbilical cord before tying it with swift, surgical precision. Another wrap wound securely around the newborn provided warmth and security.

By now Kujaku had drawn closer, intrigued in spite of himself. He didn't know what any of this meant. Both he and the lady seemed mesmerized by the sight of her child, rocking it in her arms to try and soothe its terror. Why was this happening? What was she doing out here, all alone?

"Oh, my dear…"

Her voice made him more certain than ever that they knew one another. Still Kujaku could only watch as the mother reached up, placing thumb and forefinger together to pass slowly from the baby's head to toe. A thin white line appeared where they passed, and now all the woman's attention was bent upon this. She hardly even seemed aware of the infant in her arms so intently did she gaze on this mystic band.

As she watched, the thread flashed bright crimson, only to fade and become a dull white.

"No!" the woman breathed in horror.

At this the baby opened its eyes to peer up at her in a moment of quiet. She paid no attention to this. But Kujaku did. And what he saw there left him stunned. For there was no mistaking what those eyes held. That lavender shade, so soft and lovely… only one person he knew had eyes like that.

"Kā-san!" Kujaku breathed as he realized the infant before him was his own mother.

This awestruck epiphany ended when the lady snatched up the knife again and raised it on high. Her face, moments before beautiful as an angel, now contorted with wild rage, and his own went slack with horror as he realized she meant to kill her own child.

"DON'T!" he cried in a panic, diving forward in a futile attempt to stop her.

Something struck him sharply across the jaw, and he went tumbling to the ground, terrified at the prospect of hearing the sound, of seeing spilt blood.

Instead when Kujaku looked up, a cold face stared down at him.

"Little rapist…"

Hiruko felt only disorientation as she found her feet again. Then she felt the pain in her hand as it was twisted painfully behind her back.

"Cease struggling," a voice murmured in her ear.

Blinking back tears, she twisted her head around and caught a glimpse of a woman with green eyes and purple hair. A quick glance around showed they were in what looked to be a darkened bedroom. Where am I? Why would Mayuri send me here?

Only then did she spy Shotoku crumpled on the ground with one hand pressed to his cheek. Five petals of glowing yellow energy locked around his midsection apparently kept him from moving so much as an inch. He looked stunned, like he couldn't believe this was happening.

Fury swamped her. "Let me GO!" the girl screamed and began to struggle, heedless of how it made her imprisoned arm hurt. In response her captor clamped a hand like iron over her mouth and began to drag the thrashing teen towards the exit.

"Nemu-chan?"

The purple-haired woman stopped and turned. Doing so allowed Hiruko to see another lady sitting up on the bed. It took her only a moment to recognize Isane Kotetsu. The head of her mother's Company rubbed sleepy eyes in confusion, silver hair tangled while her belly protruded huge against a sheer nightgown.

Thinking to take advantage of this momentary distraction, Shotoku grabbed her attacker's wrist and bit down hard as she could. Nemu didn't so much as twitch much less release her grip. However in doing so, the girl felt the handle of a knife tucked into her enemy's sleeve. A weapon! Gladly Shotoku grasped this unexpected bounty and pulled it loose.

To her dismay, what came out proved to be nothing but a wooden stick with no blade to speak of. In desperation she waved it back and forth hoping something might pop out as a result. Her efforts produced no reaction. What kind of person keeps a baton up their sleeve?!

"Nemu-chan, what is going on?" Isane demanded as she struggled to climb off the mattress. Her legs got tangled in the sheets, and she seemed to be having difficulty getting out of this mess.

"NEE-SAN!" The doors burst open, followed by a small woman with huge eyes who smelled like a distillery. She tripped over the edge of a rug to go stumbling forward with a loud, "WHOOPS!" crashing straight into Nemu and Hiruko.

All three of them went down together in a tangle of flailing limbs. The teen felt the hold on her loosen. With a savage twist of her shoulders that felt like it dislocated something she managed to spin around, kicking savagely at Nemu with both legs as she did. Doing so got her completely free, and she went scrambling backwards across the floor, ignoring the fresh agony this engendered.

As she did, Nemu slid upright smooth as water. The baton was in her hand, and from her lips came a chilling chant. "Bloom for Master, Aka-chan."

From out of the handle there emerged a winding red whip that seemed more liquid than solid. Its mistress brought the lash down with an ear-splitting CRACK! Her expression hadn't shifted one bit since this mess began. But clearly Nemu was done playing games. In desperation Hiruko cast about frantically for some means to defend herself.

"Wait!" By now Isane had managed to disengage herself and came rushing over to stand between the dominatrix and her target. "Wait, Nemu-chan! I know these two, they're…!"

'THERE! On the nightstand!'

Kuchiki's urgent voice in her head got Hiruko to notice a sword in a black lacquer sheathe by the bed. Before anyone could stop her the girl had dashed across the room and torn the blade from its rest.

"RUN, ITEGUMO!"

In an instant the katana became a straight-bladed saber with two smaller shafts sprouting from the handle. Those who saw this transformation take place didn't know what to make of it. All three shinigami only stared as the human teen leapt to join her brother. She raised the spectral weapon and drove it into one of the Rikujōkōrō petals holding him down. At Itegumo's touch the spell turned to glass and shattered.

Hiruko dropped her sword. It clattered against the floor, reverting to sealed state as she took hold of her brother's shoulders. "Are you hurt? Nii-san, did she hurt you?!"

Free to move, Shotoku stared at his sister in astonishment. "How did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Yeah, thash what I wanna know!" Across the way, the drunken imp had grabbed hold of Nemu's skirts to haul herself on both feet. Her continually crossing eyes sought out the children, and she said with an air of drunken indignation, "Who shaid you could use ma shister's zanpakutō, huh?! WHO?!"

The human pair only stared back in perplexity. As if on a signal, though, their bodies began to fade. Soon enough Shotoku and his sister had disappeared completely.

Was it another dream, Isane thought? Did they come here together this time? If so, what did they see?

The very thought left her trembling for reasons she could not name.

Both Kurosaki siblings came awake with a start. They looked at one another, uncertain what had just taken place.

"Were we in Soul Society?" Shotoku wondered aloud.

"I think so." Beside him Hiruko flexed her hand, then grimaced. "Ah, geez! She messed up my shoulder!" She began to roll it to try and pop the joint back into place as Tatsuki-sensei recommended.

Meanwhile her brother's face had taken on a dazed quality at all he had learned. Suddenly his eyes lit up in excitement and he rounded on Hiruko gleefully. "Kuko! I know… I know where Unohana's downfall began. I know what turned her into a Hollow!"

Chewing this over, Hiruko finally got her shoulder back into working order. She rotated it experimentally before turning an even brighter grin on her big brother.

"Oh yeah? Well, I know what we need to beat her!"

They exchanged information on what took place in Isane Kotetsu's dream and Mayuri Kurotsuchi's domain. And from there the Kurosaki children strove to devise a plan.

"Oh, man," Tatsuki Arisawa groaned. "I needed this."

Wrapped in a towel, the Red Ogre of the martial arts world leaned back against the wall of a private sauna. The lights were dim in here, almost completely dark, at her request. Heat haze from steaming rocks caused the air to ripple nonetheless.

With a grandiose sigh Tatsuki stretched out on the wooden boards and closed her eyes. It was nice in here. Peaceful. All alone, with no one to clamor for an interview or demand she head off to a photo shoot. Not even during a match could she count on this level of freedom from anxiety. And that said a lot.

'You are too unconcerned.'

She cracked an eye open. "About what?"

Movement in the shadows across from her coalesced into a horned figure against the wall. 'The situation in Hueco Mundo. Grimmjow will be growing restless. He is running short on time and knows it. Additionally, the new Cernunnos has taken an alarmingly active role of late. Now does not seem an ideal time to waste on mortal frivolities.'

"I won, didn't I?" This was obviously a reference to the karate tournament she just participated in. Or more aptly, triumphed in. Over the past decade, the Aka-Oni of Japan had established a position of dominance in the sport. Having just hit 30, it was satisfying to wear the crown of national hero. Her mother crowed endlessly about her brilliant daughter to everyone in their old neighborhood. The question of when and if Tatsuki intended to get married had been coming up more frequently of late, but it was easy to redirect that conversation with talk of her career.

'The measly accomplishments of this world pale in comparison to what transpires in the other. Nothing will remain of the life you have crafted should those two be permitted to achieve their ends.'

He could be worse than her mother sometimes. "Life isn't just for the living, Ulquiorra. If you still can't understand that, you might as well just die."

Her shadow partner fell silent at that. Rolling over on her back, Tatsuki reached for a spare towel to act as a pillow, then decided not to. She had re-dyed her hair yesterday and worried about staining it red. Instead the victorious martial artist crossed both hands behind her head and rested one leg on an upraised knee before closing her eyes.

When he remained quiet, she asked softly, "Did I make you mad?"

'Ridiculous.'

"Well, you deserved it."

A faint smile quirked her lips. He had first opened up to her in a place like this, after she won the regional championships. Ulquiorra was always more chatty at night or in dimly lit spaces. Sometimes she wondered if he was actually afraid of the dark, but that made no sense. Most likely it was the result of spending a whole year alone in a lightless underground tomb with hardly anyone to talk to.

This reminded her of the conversation they'd had regarding something related…

"Hey, Ulquiorra?"

"What?"

"Remember when I first found you in that tomb of yours?"

"Vividly."

"Yeah, fuck you all over again. I was just wondering… how exactly did you survive?"

"You know how."

"I don't mean the whole vasto lorde essence business. That much I lived through. I mean… well, according to Ichigo, during the war, you got nuked! Like to the point where there was nothing left of you but a thin coating of dust. How exactly did you come back from that?"

"Why would I reveal such a thing?"

"Don't tell me you're worried about me learning too much. We both know I've got you by the balls already. Hearing what brought us together in the first place won't change that."

"Are you actually attempting to use reason?"

"If it's a sore subject, I understand. We can drop it."

"Good."

"… So did you, like, lay an egg or something and it hatched into a new you?"

"What?"

"Old martial arts anime. Or at least, it used to be. Now it's just junk. But seriously, was it anything similar? I know you vasto lorde can break off parts of yourself and give birth to new Hollows. Is there a hatch of Ulquiorra eggs out there somewhere waiting for you to croak and…"

"Stop."

"But now I'm curious! Did you eat a magic fruit that lets you revive from death but only one time? Can you turn into a snake and swallow someone, transferring your soul into their body once every three years? Do you rewind back to childhood and then start over with a slightly decreased lifespan every time? Did you remove your heart and hide it in another smaller Hollow that looked like a baby so it couldn't betray you? Are you a phoenix? Do you rise from the ashes? Are you…"

"It was spit."

"Excuse me?"

"Spit. Saliva."

"Look, if that's the best you can come up with…"

"It is the truth. As you say, my previous body was completely destroyed. No trace of spiritual power remained in it whatsoever. However, while in this vanquished state, Grimmjow spat upon my remains. He had recently been exposed to the influence of the Segunda Espada Barragan Luisenbarn, and some faint lingering trace of this remained in him. As such, that barest amount of vasto lorde power combined with my ashes and served to restore me somewhat. I crafted a form similar to those sendings of mine you encountered, and used it to make my way back to Hueco Mundo."

"Oh, right, the smoke bats. But I don't buy it. You were dead. Spitting on you wouldn't bring you back. Unless, you know, you really are a vampire. Come to think of it, Kunieda once told me about some European legend where if a virgin puts a drop of her blood or tears on the ashes of a vampire, then it'll poof back to life and…"

"Do not try to relate a story. I already made clear you have no talent for it."

"Well?"

"… Your previous supposition was correct."

"About the egg?"

"No. We vasto lorde are capable of splitting the totality which compose us into formations of lesser Hollows. Halibel did this periodically, which I surmised might explain her continuous appetite. Barragan could do so, but only when in Segunda Etapa, as he feared diminishing himself otherwise."

"Oh. Cool."

"You are interrupting again."

"My bad. Continue."

"Hmph. As I was saying, early after my apotheosis, I uncovered this ability. Experimentation allowed me to explore its applications. This led me to the discovery that rather than freeing a conglomeration, I could instead extract the very core of my being, separating it from my main body. Once this was complete, I hid the core in a secure location. Doing so meant that even were I to sustain immense damage, it would not be enough to kill me utterly. So long as some part of me remained, I could return to my core and there begin the process of restoring myself."

"Oh… so you really did hide your heart. Just like a sorcerer in fairy tales."

"My core. I have no heart, if you will recall."

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that. So it actually worked, huh?"

"To an extent. I never expected to suffer injuries of the caliber I received during the Autumn War. It left me so reduced that I could not even begin to heal on my own. But Aizen-sama contacted me through dreams and learned of my plight. He then set about establishing a regimen whereby I might be fully rejuvenated."

"Which is where I came into the story."

"Unfortunately."

"You know I'm the only reason you're still alive, right?"

"I am neither alive nor grateful for that fact."

"Don't be so sure. Part of me thinks you enjoy bitching about your miserable lot in life."

"This is not a life."

"You're part of mine, Ulquiorra. That means you're living it right along with me. Every fight, every trip to another country, every time Kon and I–"

"Stop."

"No. I'm being serious now. Y'know, I remember when I first learned that Rukia never really got to live. She died when she was just a baby. It explained a lot about how she was back in high school. Not just sheltered or out of touch; there was so much she had never experienced. Little things, like teen drama, and juice boxes. It left me confused watching her react to that stuff as if it was special. Thinking back now… I sort of appreciated them more as a result. Watching her go through those small events for the first time let me know how much we take for granted day by day."

"What is your point?"

"My point is if you stop dwelling on major events for two seconds and look around, there might be a whole new side of existence that opens up."

"You and I both know a Hollow could never function in a human world."

"Hey, being serious one last time? If you're up for it, I'm willing to help you learn what it means to be alive."

"You are setting yourself an insurmountable task."

"Then buckle up, because you're along for the ride of your life."

A knock came at the door of the sauna. "Arisawa-san? It's been half an hour. Are you alright?"

Tatsuki rolled to a sitting position. "I'm fine. Be out in a minute."

The attendant left, and she turned back to Ulquiorra. "See? Even a total stranger can be worried about someone."

'More like worried you dying in here would affect their business.'

"Hey, you actually picked up on an aspect of capitalism! I'm proud of you!"

'It is common sense.'

"Nope. It's called humanity." Climbing to her feet, she smiled up at the living shadow. "I don't know about you, but I'm starving. Waddaya say we check out the restaurant next door?"

'Can you refrain from taking pictures of your food?'

His voice dripped with disdain, which only made her smile. "It's what the fans like. Little things, don't forget."

'If only I could.'

"That's the spirit." She knew he hated puns, but couldn't resist that one. It suited him so well. One day, Tatsuki felt certain, Ulquiorra would start to appreciate it. If not…

His loss.

Just after midnight, the witching hour, a hole opened in the sky above the Rukongai, and something resembling a great black ball dropped out. Upon touching down in a deserted forest this orb sank out of sight. In its wake emerged an army of Hollows.

They numbered just over a hundred. Both arrancar and purebred rubbed shoulders in this mass. Many glanced around uneasily, their trepidation evident even in those whose faces were covered by bone masks. It was as if they expected to be set upon by shinigami the moment they arrived.

That did not prove to be the case. Relieved, the hungry mob turned their attention to the one responsible for their being here.

Kaname Cernunnos surveyed his troops with ill-concealed disdain. He had not expected to be supplied with the cream of the crop, and that certainly was borne out by these unimpressive soldiers. Most were scavengers, suited only for group tactics requiring no particular power or bravery. Such treatment would normally not be tolerated. He was high priest of the Wolf now, and that damned Espada had best get used to being under his thumb. But to complain might have gotten people asking why he didn't simply use the Wild Hunt for this mission. And that was not a topic Kaname cared to discuss with anyone.

For now, his own power was all that mattered. The skills retained from Suzumushi enabled him to completely suppress any evidence of their arrival. Despite having such a large gathering of Hollows present, their presence would not register on any shinigami's spiritual senses, no matter who they might be. It was necessary to drop the pall of darkness, of course, because otherwise his own men wouldn't be able to see themselves or their surroundings. But the rest would remain in effect, and thus they could move unopposed until reaching their target.

In addition, as the Hunt Master, he could focus on and identify any individual soul he desired. Kaname now drew upon that ability to instantly pinpoint the location of his prey.

Ah, perfect. They were bother together, just as he suspected.

Once this was confirmed, Cernunnos selected a target at random. Normally once the victim had been identified he would then set the Wild Hunt loose in search of their blood. But the Hunt could not travel to Soul Society. Only he was able to enter here unmolested. These measly Hollows would suffice for the task at hand, however.

Standing at the head of that swarming mob, the Hunt Master addressed his followers. "You will kill them all," he declared. "Leave the bodies. They shall serve as a message."

This statement met with no resistance. The death squad set out. Watching them go, Kaname smiled.

'… don't do this…'

These words barely registered, and he had already dismissed any misgivings before moving to join in pursuit. At last, the Hunt was on once more.

"If I find myself using one more adverb," Kyōraku Shunsui stated wearily, "I'm going to scream."

His pen hovered over the page. But try as he might, the old retiree could not decide how to proceed. Dismally he glanced over at the maid seated at a low desk with her back to him. Absorbed in her work, she scribbled away as though possessed. It was honestly frustrating seeing someone so adept at writing. By the looks of it she must have completed another chapter already, whereas he, an accomplished poet for generations, found himself bewildered as to how to pen a simple sonnet.

There was no choice but to admit defeat. Kyōraku laid his writing utensil down and sank back against the wall with a groan. He would get no more done tonight. Hopefully Jūshirō would be finished with his bath soon and they could get down to some serious drinking. Otherwise he might be faced with the embarrassment of nodding off. At this hour, even! Barely past midnight. Oh, the misery of old age.

Eyes closed, he listed to the scraping of the inkstone. It served as a rhythmic backdrop to his tired thoughts. In this situation, that sound served to dredge up unwelcome memories from the past…

Dozens of eager shinigami clustered in a domed arena of the Seireitei. After waiting for hours owing to a 'logistical inaccuracy' (namely, the star of the show was nowhere to be found), they were informed everything had been resolved. Finally, it was time to shine!

A space had been cleared in their midst, and there he stood: Kyōraku Shunsui, Captain of Squad Eight and hero of the Seireitei. The sight of Katen Kyōkutsu sheathed at his hips left several of them glancing around nervously. Safeguards and assurances aside, many were wont to wonder; was this really safe?

The designated official gave his grandiose speech. A signal rang out, and with that, the Lieutenant's Trials began.

Moving with easy grace that men half his age could only envy, the captain withdrew both tachi and wakizashi. While unnecessary for one of his level, he still gave the release command, partly for effect, and mainly to let these kids appreciate things were about to get serious.

"The Flowery Winds Become Disturbed, The God Of Flowers Sings, The Heavenly Winds Become Disturbed, The Devil Of Heaven Sneers: Katen Kyōkutsu."

A flash of light caused all observers to squint. When it cleared, Captain Kyōraku held two identical barbarian war-blades in either hand. The release of spiritual power had caused every single one of the applicants to go sprawling flat. Recognizing this, the captain heaved a sigh and chose to tone it down. That should give them a chance to show just what they were capable of. The purpose of this event wasn't to crush these poor kids. Well, not officially, at any rate.

Several shinigami began struggling to their feet. Kyōraku took up his battle stance with a lazy smile, crossing both swords before him. Once the junior shinigami had managed to rise (those who could, at least), he called out gamely, "Feel free to begin at any time."

In response more shikai released. After some initial uncertainty, the boldest of them uttered war cries and came charging forward, over twenty in total. Most were from the Eleventh, competing to earn the seat next to their beloved Kenpachi, which meant they had direct attack-type releases. Blades, chains, clubs, even war fans now swept out.

To this he simply smiled, as red flower petals fell all around.

"The Flop: King of Swords."

His attackers dove at him from every side. Yet no matter the angle from which they charged, every one of them found their assaults deflected. Those watching could barely believe their eyes. Shunsui himself didn't move. He remained facing ahead, massive swords swinging to easily parry the strikes of those who approached him head-on. But if you looked closely, you might see something else; a shadow, a perfect silhouette of the man himself visible on the fringes of his body only when they both moved.

This dark elf wielded identical dual blades to repel their attackers' weapons. And there was more than one. They clustered together over and around the captain's body, packed into the exact same spot but moving independently of him. This was not usutsemi, the creation of after-images through advanced speed techniques. More like Shunsui had summoned an army of demons eager to protect their master. No blades came near his flesh. He was completely untouchable, a sword-saint surrounded by a protective cordon of warding blades.

Once he had given everyone a chance to appreciate their already hopeless situation, the Sword King negligently exerted a bit more strength, enough to send every last one of his opponents hurtling across the arena in all directions. By now, of course, the more tactical candidates had completed their preparations. Shouted kidō commands rang through the air, along with ranged zanpakutō releases. An impressive amount of spiritual power converged on the First Seat's position.

"The Turn: Knave of Hearts."

The scent of flowers changed. Swirling petals now took on a violet hue. With all their attention focused on Shunsui, none of the lower ranks even noticed this, so intent were they on not losing sight of him in case he moved. But then a sorcerer from the Ninth received a painful kick in the back that caused him to go sprawling. Scrambling around, he was shocked to find a girl he knew from the same division standing over him, teeth bared in fury.

"Hey!" he shouted. "Are you nuts?! This is against the rules!"

That fact apparently held no regard for his attacker, as she commenced to lash him with her cloth-spear zanpakutō. The astonished aspirant was forced to defend himself against this unexpected assault. Even more disturbing, he realized he wasn't the only one in such a situation. All around them, members of different squads who moments ago shared the same enemy had turned upon one another. As though seized in a frenzy, they charged their former allies. None of them appeared to be intent on inflicting serious damage. But while not lethal, neither could their attacks be ignored. Within seconds the previously united warband fell to making war against each other.

Shock held sway. Candidates weren't permitted to attack each other during the Lieutenants' Trials! It meant immediate disqualification. Even if tempted to surreptitiously thin their ranks and weed out any competition, all knew such tactics were ultimately self-defeating. It would take everything they had to challenge their true adversary with even the smallest measure of success.

And yet the overseers up in the stands made no attempt to intervene. If any of them were inclined or able to notice, however, they might have observed how several of the candidates' shadows now all looked like Captain Kyōraku.

It was bedlam. And in the confusion, no one overheard Shunsui mouth the words, "Blind Man's Bluff: Pseudonym."

One of Katen Kyōkutsu's less obvious abilities activated at this command. And without anyone being aware, a part of his shadow detached to slip quietly out of the hall.

His Pseudonym doppelganger proved swift as the original, crossing the length of the Seireitei until reaching its destination: Shinō Academy. There Shunsui traversed largely deserted halls before coming to a specific office reserved for faculty. Upon entering, he blended comfortably into the darkness against the walls and sat down to observe his quarry.

Oblivious to this intrusion, Akio Sakezuki crouched behind a desk. It was well past dusk, but the disgraced shinigami had been assigned an aggravating amount of paperwork as per usual. This proved to be the case since he first received his new position. Following the death of his wife and a lower-ranked shinigami, Sakezuki barely managed to escape a death sentence thanks to his connections within the wealthy Omaeda clan. Even so, 'Senior Faculty Advisor' was all they could manage for him; a meaningless position in the Academy.

His movements about the grounds were watched closely. He wasn't even permitted to interact with the student body outside of perfunctory graduation ceremonies, otherwise relegated to minor bureaucratic work that did nothing but take up time. Clearly Sakezuki resented this arrangement. For such a proud man, the situation must have seemed intolerable. That very reasoning was what Shunsui planned to capitalize on.

He had been planning Sakezuki's death for some time now, even before the incident with his wife and child. Thanks to Blind Man's Bluff, he could carry out this execution with no one the wiser. Shunsui's other self was still putting on a show at the Lieutenants' Trials. A new batch of students had just graduated, which meant even more work for Sakezuki. He must be feeling overwhelmed more than ever, and what with today being the anniversary of his ill-fated marriage… well, who could blame the man for snapping? His career as a shinigami was over. Ending it all must have seemed like the only option left for such a poor sad disgrace.

Several minutes passed. During this time, the shadowy executioner examined their surroundings, seeing what was available to work with; a ceremonial dagger in its stand, the cord of a wall scroll… so many ways to die.

The door suddenly opened. Shunsui looked over in surprise to find a man dressed in shinigami robes standing there unmoving. He was young with deep brown skin. Most noticeable, however, were his eyes; milky white and obviously useless. Nonetheless this newcomer strode across the room without trouble until he stood before Sakezuki, who didn't even bother to look up at his approach. He just kept right on grinding an inkstone, ignoring this new visitor.

"Monster," the blind man growled. From the pocket of his uniform he then withdrew a length of rope tied into a noose.

Akio didn't even blink; merely dipped his brush into the pool of ink before going back to work.

As for Captain Kyōraku, he was mystified, or perhaps better to say intrigued. Sakezuki seemed no more cognizant of this new threat than he did Shunsui's shadow on the wall. He watched the blind man move around the desk. Breathing hard, the intruder took only a moment to steady his trembling hands before looping the rope around Sakezuki's neck, drawing it tight as a piano string.

Sakezuki frowned. He grunted as though in slight discomfort, reached up to scratch his chin, and finally bent forward to concentrate on his paperwork. Yet still his face turned red. He began to blink rapidly as though losing his vision. For all the world it looked as though he didn't even realize he was being strangled to death.

"I want him to see me!" the murderer spat. "Let him see me!"

Whom he might be speaking to was not evident. Nonetheless after a few moments Sakezuki jerked up in his seat, hands flying to his throat and eyes going wide in panic. His attacker twisted him around until they were face to face. The former shinigami went stiff in shock as though finally realizing someone else was in the room with him.

Without releasing his hold, the blind man snatched up a pen and held it aloft. "This is the face of justice," he panted, sweat dripping down his forehead into his sightless eyes. "Let it be the last thing you ever see!"

So saying, he stabbed the blunt end of the writing implement into the terrified man's right eye, before ripping it out and doing the same to the left.

Any screams Sakezuki might have uttered at this mutilation were cut off by the noose. Choking, he clawed blindly at his attacker's face, struggling even now to escape. But clearly it was too late. His struggles grew visibly weaker. In just a few seconds these desperate attempts to live were reduced to twitching and gurgling. One shaking hand rose up to touch his assailant's face in a jerky caress.

With that Akio Sakezuki flopped back onto the desk. Foaming spit dribbled down his rigor-clenched jaws to mingle with the blood from his eyes. The body went limp. Moments later he was dead.

His killer bore down on the strangling cord for a few more seconds to make certain. Only when it became obvious that Akio was not faking did he relax. He then worked fast, climbing onto the desk and looping the rope around a support beam which he used to haul Sakezuki's corpse into the air. His strength must have been great, for he held the dead body securely while tying the noose.

In mere moments the gruesome tableau was complete. The captain made no move to interfere as the blind man tipped over a chair to rest beneath his victim's dangling feet. He then wiped off the desk before placing the bloody pen in his victim's grip to complete the illusion of suicide. Akio Sakezuki swayed back and forth, eyes focusing disturbingly close to where Kyōraku remained wrapped in his power, as though begging for help. The murderer did not pause to appreciate his handiwork. Being blind, how could he? Instead he headed for the door.

But upon passing Kyōraku's position, he suddenly went still. Slowly that blind head turned to the side until it seemed they were looking right at one another. A frown creased his smooth brow.

"Is… is someone there?" the killer whispered.

Shunsui did not reply. All the same, he could not shake the sensation that something more than a man was hunting for his presence. It felt like hundreds of eyes raked the room in search of any witnesses to their crime. Yet Blind Man's Bluff did its part. His real body was miles from here, and this Pseudonym could not register on any senses, no matter how powerful they might be.

Nonetheless, at that moment Kyōraku Shunsui felt threatened in a way he never had before.

Eventually the man left off searching. He left furtively, creeping out of the room and closing the door behind him, more visibly perturbed now than when committing murder.

Ensorcelled in shadows, Kyōraku debated. It would seem someone other than him had chosen this anniversary to carry out Sakezuki's death. Was the killer related to his wife, perhaps? And when he spoke before, demanding to be seen… it almost sounded as though he were talking to another person. His zanpakutō, perhaps? Until then Sakezuki barely understood he was being strangled. Did that nameless individual possess the power to confound other people's senses? Was that why his victim never became aware of him unless he expressly wished it?

It would be a simple matter to follow the killer. Learn if he had any accomplices. Whatever power shielded him, it seemed unable to affect Shunsui, at least while operating under the protection of Blind Man's Bluff. He might learn more of what happened this night. It could very well prove useful to Soul Society, perhaps even crucial.

He examined the dead body hanging from the rafters. 'Justice,' that man had called it. And so it was. Justice had been done at long last. What matter that I am not the one who carried out the execution this time? Sakezuki would not have been more grateful to die at my hands.

Time grew short. Elsewhere his true self had firmly established a position of dominance in the Trials. They would be throwing the switch to activate the deathstone and cut off all conflict any minute now. And that could prove disorienting, if not painful.

So he reached a decision. No more need be done tonight. Shunsui resolved to learn about that blind shinigami later on. For now he chose to return to his pseudo-self. Time to end things.

"The River… of No Return."

Inside the arena, the cherry petals turned black, and the scent they carried was that of death. Every would-be lieutenant who hadn't already lost control of their bladder promptly did so.

But the officers in charge of the proceedings got the message and threw the safety measures. Pillars of deathstone served to negate any further conflict. The Trials were over. Some present would gain a wooden badge for their troubles, while the rest had to settle for meritorious service diplomas. And thus the Gotei 13 soldiered on.

Kyōraku later regretted not following up on the night's activities.

By this point he was half-asleep at the memory. At least, until a shiver went down his spine.

Lifting his head, he frowned. What was that?

"Ahh!" Jūshirō Ukitake knotted a robe around him as he strolled out of the bath. "That hit the spot!" True to form, a servant waited at the exit to offer him a towel. He dried his hair off while heading back to the main building.

As he padded along outdoor paths the sight of servants setting up hanging lanterns brought a smile to his face. By now the moon would be at its apex. It was the time of year for tsukimi, the moon-viewing festival, a personal favorite of his for centuries. There had never been an actual harvest season in Soul Society considering so few of its residents needed food. But the beauty of the heavens this time of year simply demanded one appreciate them for whatever reason. Unlike in the human world, such parties in Soul Society included not only dango dumplings and quiet reflection, but celebratory fireworks. He noted boxes of them being stacked near one another and felt a boyish excitement at the thought of firing them off.

The prospect of being a parent left him excited in a different way. Ukitake imagined celebrating tsukimi and obon next year together with Isane and their new child. He only hoped the loud noises didn't scare their baby, whom it was becoming increasingly difficult not to think of by name. By now Shunsui would have some good saké warmed up for them. They could toast the night away under the full moon while discussing baby names.

Skin steaming from the bath, Ukitake luxuriated in the feel of cool night air on his skin. In that moment, he felt blessed.

As he did, a gust of wind blew over him, causing his pale hair to ripple.

Jūshirō stopped, startled. He turned and looked up at the darkened sky. It seemed to be a peaceful fall evening. The moon shone bright and clear. Clouds were approaching from the west.

That smell…

Warrior's instincts took over. Jūshirō sprang over the railing and cut across the yard. He wrenched open a door and went racing along. Two servants left off chatting when they saw him approach. "Your Grace?" one asked uncertainly. "Is all well?"

"We're about to be attacked!" he shouted on his way by. "Spread the word!"

There was no time to explain, and no need. They were already moving faster than him. Ukitake called out to several other people in warning before finally reaching his destination. Tearing open the door, he yelled, "SHUNSUI!"

"EE–!"

A yelp was halfway out of the maid's mouth before she saw who it was and relaxed. Then his serious expression registered, causing her to pale.

"I know." Kyōraku seemed the picture of calm as he withdrew several items from a secret panel in the wall and rose to his feet. He patted the girl on the shoulder before striding over to join his old friend. Distressed, she began hastily gathering up the manuscript they had been collaborating on. At the same time several senior members of the household staff came running up, and their master addressed them with crisp assuredness. "There's an assault approaching. It should be here soon. Ready the defenses. Have those able send word to the Seireitei. All staff assemble in their designated groups. Go."

They did so without question. Turning back around, Shunsui handed another bundle of papers to the maidservant, who accepted them with a trace of confusion. He then reached down and drew back the tatami mats on the floor to reveal a trapdoor. A key unlocked it, and with an effort he raised the hatch. No light came up from below, only a sense of palpable chill.

"Inside," he indicated down the steps. "The chamber is crafted of deathstone. Nothing should be able to break in, and no one will sense your presence." Before she could protest, he added, "I'm trusting you to safeguard our work."

This seemed to reach her. With only a firm nod of understanding she descended the steps. Shunsui then looked over at Ukitake and inclined his head. "You next."

Those normally friendly eyes narrowed. "This is no time for jokes, Shunsui."

"Don't insult me," his age-old friend replied. As Ukitake drew in an angry breath to retort he cut him off. "You're going to be a father. You have a wonderful wife who loves you. And I will not see another family needlessly torn apart. That part of our lives is over."

Halfway down the stairs, the maid looked back, anxiously observing the two old heroes facing off. It was apparent neither intended to back down.

"I won't be manipulated," Ukitake declared forcefully, "by you or anyone else."

Shunsui sighed and rubbed the back of his head. "You'd only be getting in the way. I can deploy my people effectively. Having another senior officer muddles the chain of command. They'd die to defend you, a person who can't even fight anymore. And you'd have to watch. Is that what you want?"

"Fuck your poetry."

Below him the girl gasped. To hear Jūshirō use profanity left Kyōraku taken aback as well. Stunned, he strove to get a grip on himself and reassert control. He must not lose this fight!

"And fuck you, Shunsui." Standing there, drenched in moonlight spilling from a high window, for a moment Jūshirō Ukitake resembled the unbeatable warrior he had once been. His frame swelled with fury as he spat in a dark voice, "Every member of this household would die for us and count themselves lucky for it. We both know that! So I will die for them. And you, if need be. Should I survive, I will live for my family with every breath left to me." Dark eyes then narrowed accusingly. "But no one decides that I am too important to lose anymore. NO ONE!"

The shout made Kyōraku flinch. Tears slipped from his eyes as he faced the previously unthinkable prospect of defeat. "Please, Jūshirō," he whispered, feeling helpless and afraid. All pretty words and arguments had fled. The only thing left was to beg. "Please!"

"Never again, my friend. I will not return to the Old Man's gilded prison."

Grief seeped into his bones. But at the same time, seeing how proud and strong his friend looked, Kyōraku Shunsui felt pride too. This man calls me friend. After all we've been through together…

With that he held out his hand. "I'm honored to fight with you, Jūshirō. One last time."

Ukitake smiled and accepted the handshake. "Same here, Shunsui."

They broke apart. Kyōraku knelt to close the trapdoor, offering the girl one last smile as he did. "Come out only when it's safe."

She nodded back, and the door shut. The key turned in the lock. She'd be able to open it from the other side once all this was over. Kyōraku realized he had already discarded the possibility he might live to let her out himself. How very gloomy of me…

And just like that, he knew how to end that last poem. But no time remained. It was so absurd he just had to laugh.

"Nice to see you still have a blithe spirit," Ukitake remarked as they stepped out into the hall.

"Oh, don't mind me." With that he handed over the swords from his belt, one long, the other short. "Here. Take them."

"What about you?" his friend frowned but accepted the weapons all the same.

"I've got something else in mind…"

Servants rushed past shouting as they came to another room. Shunsui strode over to a stand on the wall where two other swords rested. Once mighty blades that felled countless enemies, they had been rendered mere decorations for over a decade now. Yet as he grasped Katen Kyōkutsu and slid her free, the former officer of the Gotei 13 could have sworn he felt a spark of that familiar thrill.

You still with me, old girl? To the bitter end?

Silence.

Fine. I'll tell you all about it when we meet again.

And he went to marshal his people.

No lights burned in the mansion when they approached. The Hollows considered this, hissing among themselves while lingering on the edge of the surrounding forest. It was late in the evening, but surely someone must still be up and about? Kaname Cernunnos' power kept them cloaked. At the same time, they could not sense anything outside its range as a result. To see this business done, they must enter blind, in a way.

The Hunt Master observed them hanging back with distaste. "GO!" he ordered angrily.

Reluctant at first, they obeyed, avoiding the main entrance to slip over the walls. In just a few moments Cernunnos stood alone.

Satisfaction filled him, and he waited for the first screams, absently tracing a claw around the ever-expanding Hollow hole in his chest. At times Kaname almost imagined he could feel the harlot Halibel devouring him from the inside out. His death was certain unless he affected the Wolf's liberation. Then all wrongs would be addressed and he could stand by his Master's side without fear!

'… stop…'

Kaname Cernunnos exulted to himself. For centuries now he had been made to grovel before lesser beings. That would soon change. The Advent of the Wolf was at hand! At long last, he would achieve his due!

'… please, you must… stop…!'

The Hollow's helmeted head continued to watch the assault commence. But inside those empty eyeholes, behind the skull mask adorned with antlers…

Kaname Tosen fought to save his soul.

'… listen to me! There are innocent people in there! We are not murderers! Only kill when it is warranted, remember? Can you hear me? Answer, damn you…!'

His pleas fell on deaf ears. Kaname Cernunnos did not even seem to be aware of him. Trapped in a subservient position just as his Hollow had once been, the remnants of the former shinigami struggled in an effort to assert some measure of control on their shared existence.

'… this is not like us. We never condoned such wanton cruelty! It is barbarous! Those plus souls back in Hueco Mundo… you burned them alive! Like a monster, like Yamamoto…!'

Without even realizing it the line of his finger had drawn a circle of blood around his chest. Irritated, the Hunt Master left off long enough for it to heal. He must concentrate on the goal. Do not lose focus!

'… we were deceived. I realize that now. Surely you must too! Aizen and Unohana sacrificed us to achieve their release. But this, what we've become… it's different…!'

The Wolf had chosen him to liberate all worlds from the cruel yoke of suffering in which they languished. Hollows, humans, shinigami… once Coyote Stark roamed free, all would be united in terrified worship of Him! And I shall serve as His high priest for all eternity!

'… I am not a slave. Even you chafed at having bonds placed upon you. Yet now you wish to suffer under a mad tyrant for your own protection? No, that… that is not who we are…'

Tosen could see through the Hollow eyes on his mask. The ones he had been born with remained sightless. But peering through that distorted lens, a strange sensation began to grow inside. It felt as if… as if they were the mask! Both him and his Hollow! And something was wearing them, peeking out at the world behind the combined mask of Kaname Tosen and Kaname Cernunnos!

'… we are… just a mask. A monster's mask…'

He could feel it there, a vice-like hand clamped around the back of his skull keeping him staring straight ahead. Lurking in the darkness behind their eyes. The Hollow wasn't aware of this. But Tosen was! Sick with despair, he struggled, fought tooth and nail to break free, to turn his head and learn what it was that had taken hold of them.

'… you are there. I know you are there! The darkness holds no secrets from me, monster. You cannot hide in it! I will not allow this…!'

It felt like tearing off a fingernail. But still he persevered. And ever so slowly, Tosen felt himself meeting with success. He was resisting, fighting back against the awful force that had corrupted and perverted his sense of justice. Never before had he been afraid to confront his own failings. Now would be no different!

'… show your face, coward! Show me… your FACE…!'

A ripping sound combined with pain like no other as Kaname Tosen tore around to confront his tormenter.

At once he began to scream.

The darkness that had surrounded him his whole life remained. But there, hanging huge before the tiny spirit of Kaname Tosen, was a mask. A gigantic stag's skull the size of a mountain, with antlers vast as the sky. He could see this thing! And it saw him. As he continued to scream in terror, blood started to drip from the stag's eye sockets, running down its skull in thick red streaks.

Tosen strove frantically to flee from that loathsome horror. But there was no escape. The mammoth skull followed. It gained upon him. Like swimming against the tide, his tiny form pulled backward. Shrieking, pleading, he plunged into the endless pit of its empty eyes, swallowed by the void.

Outside, Kaname Cernunnos hesitated. Had something just taken place within him?

All is well…

All is… well. Yes, all is well! There is no need to fear! I, Kaname Cernunnos, shall never die!

Three Hollows crept through the Shunsui estate. It was quiet in here, which disturbed them. They sought one another's company partly for reassurance, and mainly to use as a shield in case of surprise attack.

Upon rounding a corner, they found themselves faced with an elderly plus spirit holding a candle farther down the hall. He staggered back at the sight of them. "No… NO!"

His terror served to stoke their urges. With fearsome roars the trio of heartless monsters went tearing down the passage to rend him limb from limb.

Halfway there, the floor suddenly dropped away beneath them, and they tumbled into a pit. Before any could even realize what had happened, white-hot flames roared from all sides, burning the Hollows to ash without so much as a scream escaping.

The floor snapped back into place, and the old chef prepared himself to put on another performance.

An arrancar slid open a door. His lone revealed eye widened with delight at the sight of two attractive women cowering around an older lady. They cringed against the wall upon spying him, whimpering like lost puppies.

"Well, hello, there!" he chuckled, and took a step towards his first victims.

Immediately large bloodstained swords shot out of the doorframe on all sides, crossing together to create a latticework of razor-sharp death. They skewered the confident Hollow from top to bottom. Being an arrancar, though, he still managed to survive. Grievously injured, the creature shattered the executioner's blades and stumbled forward, bleeding and gasping while struggling to draw his sword. If he could just perform resurrección, all his wounds would be healed!

"Bifurca…!"

Before he could finish, the two younger women leaped up and intoned together, "Hadō #73: Sōren Sōkatsui!"

A quadruple shot of blue flames exploded from their palms. The blast took him in the chest, and the Hollow simply exploded, sending smoking limbs flying about the room. They caught fire easily. Moments later, a colorful butterfly went flying off to find a new home in Soul Society.

One of the girls checked the hall before shutting them in again. They reported to their comrades through spells, then began laying down some sleeping kidō around the doorframe in place of the damaged security apparatus. After that all three resolved to wait for their next victim.

Things were not proceeding according to plan.

Kaname Cernunnos had not missed several hell butterflies winging away. There was no way to stop them from delivering their messages, yet he felt confident by the time help arrived, his men would have already completed their mission and been long gone. Only now, that timeframe seemed less and less likely.

When the first purified soul butterflies emerged as well, he started to grow concerned. Kaname pulled back on his soul-dampening field to get a more precise idea of how things were faring. The result proved even more shocking. Almost a quarter of his army had been wiped out in a handful of minutes. At this rate, the entire attack force would perish before the reinforcements from Soul Society even showed up.

Time was of the essence. Much as he misliked the idea, it seemed his direct intervention was required.

In a deeper part of the manor, Shunsui spoke to one of his former officers before heading over to inform Ukitake. "Seventeen killed so far with no losses on our end."

"They're careless," his partner in crime observed. "Did they seriously think you wouldn't have any former shinigami serving under you?"

To this Shunsui offered a disinterested shrug. "Maybe whoever's in charge never attended any of my parties?"

"Your Highness…"

Both combatants turned as the head of Ukitake's personal escort from the Kotetsu approached. Stony-faced, he looked between the two living legends with a measure of concern before focusing on Jūshirō. "We've secured a route to the ship. If you both come now, we can be airborne and aim to break through the encirclement. My men and I will remain behind to cover your retreat."

"Commander, retreat is not an option," his master replied with no trace of scorn.

"But…!"

"This lot is here for us specifically." Kyōraku rested both hands on the hilts of his soul cutters, as natural as if he never left the battlefield. "If we flee, they'll follow. And while we might be able to draw them away from the house by doing so, there's no guarantee they haven't been holding back for the sake of taking us alive. Meaning our absence might cause them to incinerate everything here in an instant."

"The barge can only hold so many," Jūshirō said. "And it wasn't built for high-speed chases." To cut off further argument he concluded with, "We've already dispatched hell butterflies. Reinforcements will arrive in under half an hour. We simply have to hold out as best we can until then."

Apparently the Kotetsu officer knew better than to press his case any further. Firing off a sharp salute, he went to inform the rest of his detachment of their current situation. Jūshirō watched him go with a sad expression.

As if reading his mind, Shunsui spoke up. "They'd never leave. Not even if we ordered them to."

"I know. I only wish…"

"Take it easy." The big man clapped him on the shoulder. "We're not dead yet."

A Hollow resembling a great snapping turtle reared back as spears shot from the floor to catch it right under the chin. It squealed in pain until a footman leapt down and smashed his zanpakutō war-axe into the back of its skull, caving in the mask with one mighty blow.

The disfigured soul uttered a final wheeze before flopping down. It had already dissolved by the time its killer rose off the corpse. He surveyed the dining chamber he now found himself in. Two more Hollows were pinned by spells. Easy to pick off, but one of the non-shinigami staff had lost an arm. He slumped against a wall grimacing while two maids sought to control the bleeding.

His duty was clear. The footman moved to treat his comrade. But between one step and the next, his world went black.

He froze. Everything around him had disappeared. Like all light just got sucked away. Attempting to call out revealed he had gone mute as well. The smell of spilt blood no longer registered. But he could still feel the axe clenched in his hand, warm and reassuring.

When a sword took his head clean off, he felt that too, but only for a moment.

Cruel talons opened up the one-armed servant's throat. He was left to bleed out while both maids collapsed beside him, chests laid open from a single stroke apiece. Their blood spattered against his skin as Kaname Cernunnos moved deeper into the mansion in search of prey.

The Kotetsu officer hurried over. "Communications are being severed. We can no longer sense anything happening in the western part of the house. One report managed to confirm some kind of moving darkness before it got cut off. Whatever it is, it's coming this way. Shall we regroup on this position?"

His commanders shared a glance. "No," Kyōraku decided. "Tell every group still active to stay far apart. Bunching up will just give them a chance to kill more of us quickly." To a senior member of his staff who had once fought alongside him in the Eighth Division Shunsui then said, "Throw the switch on full countermeasures."

"Yes, sir."

They both departed. Jūshirō and Kyōraku counted about twenty fighters here acting to protect them. 'Til now their war party had acted as a mobile command center, moving through the compound to aid any fights they encountered while keeping the enemy from deploying all their strength on one location. This tactic had met with success 'til now. But the situation had changed.

"What do you think?" Ukitake murmured low enough for no one else to hear. "Tosen?"

"Or what's left of him. That would explain the damper on everyone's senses." As Shunsui spoke, red lights sprang to life in the ceiling. This alarm served to warn his home's inhabitants that all sleeping kidō defenses were now active. Shunsui assessed this new peril before coming to a conclusion. "We need to go further in. Draw him through some of the deadlier traps. That might slow the bastard down."

Once his order was given, the band of fighters moved out. In the lead, Ukitake flexed his shoulders and winced, nose wrinkling distastefully. "It would have been courteous of him to remove our sense of smell as well as spiritual perceptions. That odor is getting worse."

"Perhaps he's gone nose-blind to it?" Shunsui chuckled beside him. "For Tosen, that would be rather poetic justice."

They moved deeper into the complex as a crimson aura overshadowed their every move, being careful to avoid the seals that had been released. The staff had received rigorous safety training on what to do should such a situation arise. Any intruders not so well-informed would find themselves facing a supremely hostile environment. While not having been renewed for over a decade now or able to draw on their primary source of power, these Hadō were still cast by Captain Kyōraku when he was still in his prime. No one could simply dismiss them.

This fact was borne out when they heard several explosions going off in other parts of the house strong enough to rattle surrounding trees and send tiles sliding off the roof. While somewhat comforting, both knew at best it served to delay their most deadly adversary. And even when unable to sense spiritual energy, Shunsui knew for a fact good people were dying for his sake again.

The thought made him unspeakably angry. Still, he knew things were about to get much worse. "Any ideas on how to handle this?"

"We'll work with what we have." They passed boxes piled in the halls with lanterns on them. While no less furious than his friend, the sight made Ukitake smile. "And hit him where it hurts!"

No warning came as a blast of crimson fire roared out of an unremarkable wall sconce. Kaname Cernunnos sought shelter beneath his huge fur cloak, gritting his teeth as the flames licked at his pelt. Shakkahō, by his guess. The level of power left him certain it came courtesy of Captain Kyōraku. Though degraded by time, even he could not simply ignore such an attack.

Once this spell ran its course the Hunt Master rose upright to take stock of his situation. A dull red glow all throughout the complex indicated they had triggered some kind of defense mechanism that went far beyond anything previously deployed. Hollows elsewhere in the facility weren't so lucky as Kaname. Fully two-thirds of his men were dead or purified by this point. And that number was increasing steadily thanks to the spell-traps.

Jūshirō had stopped moving not far up ahead. He and Kyōraku must be intending to make a final stand. How perfect.

Every one of these spells cost him time which he could not afford to waste. There was no choice but to go straight through them. And so he did, disabling or destroying some while enduring the rest. Any human souls that crossed his path died in an inky pall of stillness.

His gambit paid off. The corridor opened up onto what seemed to be a picnic area with a large pond in the center. Paper lanterns had been strung on lines overhead. Several dozen shinigami formed rows to either side of the exit ready to unleash all their power on him the moment he stepped through. At the end of this corridor of fighters stood Ukitake Jūshirō side by side with Shunsui Kyōraku. Both held swords in each hand, like they expected to accomplish anything with them.

The idea of crossing blades with two arrogant old invalids and their ragtag mob of nobodies left Kaname more irritated than amused. Best end this quickly and get on to more important matters.

Kaname Cernunnos raised a leisurely arm. The Cero that formed at his fingertips was ghostly white. In times past he would have at least spoken a few words to them, even if nothing more than to exchange introductions. But shinigami civilities held no meaning for him now. And so he let his attack fly at the former captains.

Jūshirō crossed twin blades to meet the beam head on. It should have incinerated both men. Instead the tremendous energy blast slammed against the swords and simply… vanished.

Stunned, the Hunt Master drew back a step in disbelief. What just happened?!

"Thought you'd try that cowardly Hollow move." Jūshirō lowered his arms and stood there with an insultingly smug smile. "These swords are made of sekkiseki. Certainly expensive, but when it comes to nullifying energy, nothing quite compares to deathstone."

"Don't tell us you're hanging back now." Scratching behind one ear, Kyōraku Shunsui wore a lazy smirk just as mocking as his partner. "Still afraid to die, Tosen? I guess some people never change."

An angry snarl tore down the blood-limned corridor. Moments later pure darkness came pouring out to swallow the assembled company in its stygian depths.

Now Kaname came into the open without fear. The bugs to either side of him nonetheless proved disciplined fighters. Blinded and stripped of all awareness concerning their surroundings, not a single one panicked or discharged their weapons at random. Doing so would have only served to injure their comrades. He could almost respect them for that.

Admirable or not, their bravery held no significance for him. His followers could finish them off after those two were dead. The Lord of the Hunt strode assuredly across the grassy sward until he stood before his true quarry. Neither of them moved at his approach. They could see and hear nothing. A quick death might be sensible under the circumstances. But considering all the crimes this miserable duo were responsible for throughout the centuries, to say nothing of the indignities he had been subjected to tonight, some measure of revenge seemed in order.

He was raising his sword to take out one of Ukitake's eyes when Shunsui said, "Sakezuki…"

Kaname's ears perked up at this name. Warily he turned to regard the other heretic, who was gazing placidly in his general direction. No one else could hear the words spoken then, not even Shunsui himself. But all the same…

"He saw you that night, Tosen. Because you wanted him to. 'Let him see me,' remember?"

The Hunt Master flinched, unnerved. Meanwhile Kyōraku continued in an eerie cadence, almost like he was reading lines of a poem. "You called yourself the face of justice. But when it was over, you feared someone had seen you. Like a criminal caught in the act."

As Kaname received his second shock of that evening, the old captain turned his head. He didn't look directly at him. More like off to the side. Despite this, he couldn't rid himself of the idea that this horrible old monster knew exactly where he was!

"Well, I did see you, Tosen," Shunsui sneered. "I was right there watching the whole time."

No, that's impossible! He's just playing with me, thinks I'm too weak to hurt him! Pretending he can still see and hear and…!

Right then a strange hissing sound reached the Hollow's sensitive ears. Looking up, he realized it was coming from lamps hanging on lines overhead.

The smell of gunpowder registered an instant before fireworks hidden inside those lanterns exploded.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Thunderous detonations followed. Shiba-brand, these fireworks had been designed for maximum volume that would carry for miles. The lights they produced were no less prodigious. All colors of the rainbow erupted in that enclosed space. This outpouring should by all rights have blinded and deafened every person there.

But thanks to Kaname's power, the only one capable of experiencing any of this was himself.

"AAAAHHHH!"

The Hunt Master collapsed. His ears were filled with nothing but pain now, a throbbing swelling agony like drums pounding non-stop inside his skull. Betrayed by the very senses he prided himself on, Kaname Cernunnos could do nothing but huddle in a ball and retch.

At the same time, the black pall he had conjured up dissipated. Jūshirō took a deep breath and registered their enemy crouched before him first. Like a magnet his attention was drawn to the two large stylized eyes on the back of Tosen's mask, almost like a cobra's markings. Acting on instinct, that valiant soul flipped his deathstone swords and brought them plunging down.

"EYYAAAAAHHH!"

If the fireworks were torture, then having sekkiseki blades driven into his eyes could only be described as ruinous. Kaname Cernunnos arched upright shrieking like the damned. He fell back and went scrabbling across the ground on hands and knees, shaking his head like a dog in an effort to dislodge the searing implements digging into his most vulnerable spot.

A chorus of voices rang out then. Immediately the Hunt Master was engulfed in a volley of high-rank kidō spells. Ranging from Black Coffin to Rikujōkōrō, the combination of magic created a whirling tornado of raw energy that reached high to the heavens and hid that wretched figure from sight.

"Sir, get back!" the Kotetsu officer cried as he rushed forward. Shunsui and Jūshirō allowed him to lead them to a safe distance. Glancing back at the bonfire raging around Cernunnos, he looked at the two generals with deadly serious eyes. "Go now! We'll hold hi–!"

He never got to finish that sentence. A rat-shaped Hollow the size of a mountain lion leapt down from the walls and sank its teeth into his throat.

Shouts and screams accompanied a host of masked killers who came pouring into the garden. While many bore injuries from previous battles, these were the strongest remaining in Kaname Cernunnos' attack party. They had killed any who dared to oppose them and survived to reach this spot, mad with pain and drunk on bloodlust, drawn by the tantalizing scent of shinigami souls. Hollows both arrancar and not attacked with fangs, released soul cutters and Hollow sorcery in a crazed rush to slake that endless thirst.

Ukitake never hesitated. He dove to tackle the creature that had attacked his subordinate, forcing it off through sheer fury alone. The Kotetsu officer struggled to stand, one hand pressed to the gushing wound but still clutching his weapon. Kyōraku grabbed an arm to help him upright, looking wildly around as he did. Shrieking bedlam greeted his eyes, the stink of unwashed bodies and blood making his once tranquil home resemble a dog-fighting pit.

Only one choice made sense. "Fall back!" he bellowed loud as possible. "FALL BACK! Retreat to…!"

Twenty feet away, that raging hurricane of energy suddenly dissipated. The sudden lack of light and force seemed to suck in all available air. Shunsui felt his heart grow cold as he realized something horrible. The deathstone swords! We didn't pull them out, they absorbed some of the attack! That means…

As if echoing his fears, Kaname Cernunnos arose.

The sekkiseki blades had fallen to the ground. They glowed as though sated. Standing over them, the Hunt Master panted and bled. His mouth, the only part of his face visible beneath the stag skull, was filled with a protrusion of sharp teeth like daggers. A long tongue snapped out to taste the air, scenting warm flesh and hot blood.

Sucking in its breath, the Lord of the Hunt crouched low, swept taloned hands wide and uttered an unearthly scream. Upon hearing it every soul present, whether Hollow or shinigami, felt fear.

There came a flash of white as Ukitake Jūshirō dove across the battlefield to snatch up one of the smoking deathstone swords. Barefoot, wearing only a light robe and silk trousers, this matchless spirit nonetheless swung his weapon down against the Hunt Master's antlered skull with a furious shout of his own.

It rebounded off without leaving any mark. Kaname Cernunnos turned its head to look at the white-haired warrior moments before launching a taloned hand at his heart.

Perhaps some measure of magic or madness enabled Shunsui to reach them in time, snatching up the fallen soul cutter Suzumushi as he did. He interposed himself before Ukitake and caught that gruesome claw on his stolen blade, grimacing as the force behind it drove him to one knee.

"Yare, yare," the warrior-poet grunted, arms trembling, hair plastered to his forehead with cold sweat. "Do I need a drink."

And he smiled.

After what felt like forever, things had gone quiet.

For agonizing minutes the maid waited in her hideout. She hoped against hope someone would come to tell her it was all right, that they had won.

When no one did, she mustered her courage and came out of hiding.

The maid walked down darkened halls. Coming upon the first corpse made her flinch, recognizing this as one of the senior servants who had been here long before her time. There was nothing she could do for them now, nor any of the other mutilated bodies whose blood she walked through with seemingly every step. Clutching thick sheaves of paper like a shield, the frightened young woman fought down tears and pressed on.

There was no way to tell if the security system might still be active or not. At length the maid decided to take a route through the gardens, where traps were few and far between. Surely someone else must have escaped? But only a fool would use the main gate. She resolved to check in back, the servant entrances. Perhaps she might even come across Captain Kyōraku and Ukitake along the way.

Flames crackled on the rooftops, sending up smoke as she meandered along the bushes and trees. Lovingly maintained for centuries, they had been torn up and trampled on. The night was terribly cold, making her breath visible. Her nose felt numb, but at least out here the stench of blood did not hang quite so heavy.

Passing through a long corridor that connected the main plaza to the gardens, the shivering maid cringed upon spotting more corpses up ahead. Had a large battle taken place here? The answer soon became clear as she exited the tunnel. Battle? A better word would be 'slaughter.' The mutilated remains of men and women she had worked alongside for years lay strewn all about the garden. A moan escaped her throat as she recognized familiar faces. They had been torn to pieces. Almost as disturbing, corpses of Hollows were mixed in with the dead. All these fighters here had been shinigami once, she knew. Their power should have purified any slain Hollows and turned them into soul butterflies. Why were so many still like this? Almost like they had died at the hands of another Hollow.

Right then the maid spotted something that made her stop. That man over there! He was the head of Captain Ukitake's escort! And the ones around him too! Did that mean…? No, no, please no! Her pace quickened. She hunted frantically among the faces of the dead in dread of what she might see.

Doing so brought her closer to an ornamental pond. The maid drew up short as she spotted a body floating face-down in the middle of the pool. The white robe it had on made her initially believe this to be the moon's reflection. But clouds had covered up the night sky completely by now. That was not the moon.

It was Jūshirō Ukitake.

Upon recognizing this, Momo Hinamori uttered a ragged scream and dropped her books to go dashing into the pond.

The water only came up to her armpits. She struggled to reach the body, weeping without stop. Upon doing so, the small fugitive grabbed his waterlogged robe and hauled him back to shore. Once there it was harder pulling him up onto the bank. Her clothes were soaked and she was freezing. But Momo still managed to turn the captain over onto his back in what even she had to recognize was a vain hope.

Doing so only made his wounds all the more apparent. His left arm had been torn off at the elbow. Ragged gashes laid him open from shoulder to hip. And something had torn his throat out. Despite these horrors, that beautiful face held not a trace of pain. Instead he appeared… sad. Disappointed even, as though regretting he could not have done more than he already had.

How could someone die so horribly, and not appear to care?

Momo crouched beside the legendary hero. All strength had left her. What was the point anymore? With nothing left to do, she reached out fingers numb with cold and gently closed the captain's soft brown eyes that had always seemed so warm and merry. No longer.

"Rest now," she whispered.

"Momo-chan…"

About to break down, Momo half-convinced herself it was Ukitake who had spoken. Only then did she realize whoever had spoken was behind her.

She twisted around, and spotted Kyōraku slumped against a wall.

Her heart leapt. All sense of weariness and cold fled. Hinamori jumped up and dashed over to slide to a halt by the captain's side. His chin rested against his chest, entrails hanging out from the grievous hole where his stomach used to be. Both legs were shattered and twisted. Blood smeared down the wall behind him. He must have been thrown here. Despite this, his hands still clutched the remains of Katen Kyōkutsu, though only the wakizashi remained intact. The longer katana had been snapped in half.

Momo stretched out an arm to touch him, then stopped. He hadn't moved at her approach. Did she imagine that back there?

"Captain Kyōraku?" the girl whispered.

A sigh of breath escaped his lips. Half-closed, his eyes still turned to study her. "No," he breathed when she began to tear strips from her uniform to use as bandages. "Don't bother."

Momo went still. She stared at him with tears running down both cheeks. Her whole body shook uncontrollably. "Kyōraku-taichou, what… what should I do?"

It was heartbreaking hearing her ask that, mainly because it sounded so similar to that time Nanao visited him in the hospital after his incapacitation. She looked so beautiful then, so lost. He had wanted to attend her wedding. Maybe as a father-figure, giving the bride away like they did in various cultures. Shunsui always thought his little Nanao-chan would look dynamite in a wedding dress.

He realized his thoughts were wandering and drew upon whatever determination remained in him to speak. "Leave before… the Gotei 7 arrive." His face contorted in pain for a moment, then lapsed into a sort of detached calm. "Kaname did this… but he's… gone now. Called a negacción and… split."

A single line of blood dripped down his jaw. Momo reached up and tenderly wiped it away. This small act of mercy touched Shunsui's heart. It gave him the courage to say what needed to be said.

"Ones who love you are… still alive. Friends who care… Tōshirō… Renji… Izuru… don't lose sight. Revenge… or forgiveness. Up to you, my girl."

Trembling, his hand that held the wakizashi proffered it to her.

"Go," the handsome soul whispered. "Stay… safe."

Momo took the knife, as powerless as her, but better than nothing. At his urging she also accepted the sheathe for Katen Kyōkutsu. This was a small selfishness on his part. He misliked the thought of his girl being without her best duds, as he always used to think of it. After giving Hinamori a pat on the head, Kyōraku accepted her final goodbye, then watched her collect the manuscripts and arrange Ukitake's body into some measure of decency. That was nice. It showed he had not been wrong to offer the fugitive shinigami his protection when she knocking at his door several years back.

Snow had begun to fall around them. Heavy, it would soon cover up everything. On her way to the back gate Momo turned with snowflakes in her hair and arms filled with books. "Thank you, sir!" she called out, voice cracking. Then she dashed swiftly out of the garden. With the snowfall just starting, there was no chance of her tracks being left behind. That was something to be grateful for.

Kyōraku Shunsui sat alone now. With supreme effort he lifted his head to peer upward. They were supposed to have a moon-viewing party this week. Bad weather meant rescheduling for tomorrow, but this snow would have made it all the more beautiful. Why couldn't Death have waited just one more day before coming for them? It hardly seemed fair.

"Just our luck," he murmured. "Eh, Ukitake?"

His treasured companion's body was partly covered by white flakes now. They obscured the bloodstains and most of the damage done to him. Hand resting on his chest, Jūshirō looked asleep. Serene and peaceful.

I'll be joining you soon, old friend.

Lying motionless against the wall, with snow drifting over him, memories of the ages spent together came flooding back. Battles fought. Lives saved. Hopes dashed. Smiles. Laughter. Regret. Despair. A lifetime of visions and emotions.

"Not so bad," he reflected. "Going… like this. But… s'petty of me, I know… still, always wished…. I could die with… a beautiful woman… to hold."

Much to his surprise, a pair of arms stole around him. Even more unexpected when it occurred to him he knew this embrace.

"Thank you," Kyōraku Shunsui breathed, staring straight ahead with tears in his eyes.

You're welcome, Katen Kyōkutsu replied.

It was like all torments, whether of the body or soul, left him then. Shunsui couldn't believe how happy he felt. Or how tired.

Sleep now, my heart. You've earned it. We will take care of the rest.

He did as his dear friend bade. So died a warrior-poet and a noble god.

By the time members of Greyhound, Leopard and Ibis Companies arrived, it was far too late. The bodies were collected, with special reverence paid to Kyōraku and Ukitake. When informed of her husband's death, Lady Isane and her entire House withdrew from all duties in a display of abject grief. The other Great Houses also restricted activities to pay their respects. Not just them, however; virtually the entire Gotei 7 and beyond went into mourning. The loss of those two men sent ripples of shock and grief throughout all levels of Soul Society. Even the ongoing operation in Hueco Mundo was called off. Tiger and Siamese returned to the Seireitei with their leadership. A tragedy had occurred. Their ancient heroes were gone. Even Lord-Commander Kuchiki recognized the necessity of honoring that sentiment no matter how it affected their timetables.

Upon learning this, Grimmjow actually started laughing.

"He fucked it up!"

Enfain Tezima watched her boss throw back his head to send gales of laughter echoing among the rafters. She had not known how he might react to the news, but this certainly seemed uncharacteristic. To say nothing of terrifying.

"He fucked it up?" the Sexta Espada gasped again. Grimmjow threw his follower a manic grin, and when she merely shrugged helplessly as if to say, 'Yeah?' it sent him into further hilarity.

"He fucked it up. He fucked it up! How do you fuck that up?! Seriously, you just take their blood and write in big words on a wall, 'I'm Tosen and I just killed your two grandpas! Come and get me in Hueco Mundo'!" Grimmjow let out a whoop of laughter. "He FUCKED it UP!"

After a while when he just kept going on like this, Enfain finally dared to ask, "So what do we do?"

The laughter cut off immediately. With leisurely grace the panther demon turned to regard her. Once more Tezima wondered if she was about to die.

"I want those bastards back here," he spoke in soft tones that sent shivers down her spine. "Every last one of 'em." Grimmjow Jaguerjaques padded across the throne room until he towered over his anxious associate. One finger shot out to point meaningfully at her single remaining eye, and it was all she could do not to flinch. "Except Ichigo Kurosaki. Got that?"

"They're in mourning," she rasped, face lapsing into a scowl at being threatened. "How am I supposed to get the entire Gotei 7 to mobilize on a whim?!"

There was something disturbing about the way he grinned then. "You still got that souvenir from the Idiot Twins?"

Tezima's lip twisted in confusion. "Yeah?"

"Then I know just how to hit 'em so that they'll come sprinting back here to take our heads!"

He looked so happy at the prospect Tezima found herself feeling sorrier for the shinigami than she did herself.

To be continued…