Lifted Up

by Tomas the Betrayer

Sequel to 'Hammered Down'. Under the shadow of a heaven ruled by monsters, Rukia Kuchiki continues to fulfill her duties with new lives and hearts added to the mix. And above all, there is a mother's love.

13. Wedding Hells: Vows and Wows

"What is going on here?!" Isane Kotetsu demanded in a shocked voice.

"Hey, Sis!" her younger sibling Kiyone had a huge dopey grin plastered on her face. She waved a dish of saké around, sloshing out most of it on the floor. "C'mon in, we're havin' a party!"

That much was evident. A tavern on the outskirts of the Seireitei had been commandeered by a group of rowdy shinigami, most of them from Tiger Company. Third Seat Ikkaku Madarame was performing a kabuki dance atop a table in full makeup to the mingled cheers and applause of his drunken cohorts. Someone bearing a remarkable resemblance to 5th Seat Hanataro Yamada of her own division had consented to play the part of the maiden in this performance, while Sentaro Kotsubaki crouched beside him with a drum between his legs he conspired to beat. This raucous revelry also included half a dozen fist-fights in progress, a misguided attempt to create a human pyramid that appeared in danger of collapsing at any second, and two separate rounds of 'You Chop Me, I Chop You' being played. There was so much shouting, laughing and bleeding going on it was hard to know where to look first.

However one thing conspired to catch all of Captain Kotetsu's attention. And that was the demon Jigoku.

"You guys… are great… guys!"

This was addressed to a couple of unnamed shinigami around whose shoulders the seated emissary of Hell had draped its arms. Tilting crazily like a ship on storm-churned seas, Jigoku nodded its head sagely. "I'ma… I'm gonna… listen, listen, I'm gonna… lift you both up… and then everybody's gonna see… how great two o' you are…"

It snagged a hand in the backs of their robes and stood, hoisting them into the air with no visible effort. The men, who were well into the depths of intoxicated slumber, hung there with heads slumped and eyes closed while snoring softly. Jigoku dropped them to collapse in a heap at its feet. "Alright then… y'all see that? Good." It then went staggering off into the reveling throngs.

"He'sh great, isn't he?" Kiyone giggled while observing the infernal partygoer with a queer sort of pride.

Isane reached out to grasp the younger noblewoman's chin and turn her head until they were eye-to-glassy-eye. "How…" the harried healer broke off and inhaled deeply before continuing. "How did you get him drunk?!" she practically screamed at her sister. "He doesn't even have a MOUTH!"

It was true. The cloth flag that had once served to obscure Jigoku's features had been removed and folded into a sort of paper pirate hat shape which now adorned the top of its bald head. Doing so left no room for interpretation about the demon's face… it simply didn't have one. There was just a smooth uninterrupted pane of white flesh boasting no trace of eyes, nose, or a mouth. A voice clearly emerged from that region, but whatever might be producing it would have to remain a mystery.

For her part Kiyone digested the accusation with drunken deliberation. After a few seconds she gave a helpless shrug. "I dunno. We jus' did."

The Lady of the Kotetsu stared at her inebriated sibling for a while longer. The look on her face was so uncharacteristically furious it served to impart some small measure of clear-headedness to Kiyone. She realized that whatever might be causing such distress could be traced back to actions she herself had perpetrated. Which meant unless something was done to ameliorate the situation soon, come the morning she might sober up to find herself disowned, sacked, and possibly beheaded if Isane's expression was any indication. Her big sister had worked for Unohana Retsu, after all; she no doubt knew several ways to kill someone without them even being aware of it. To that end, Kiyone hastily strove to locate a silver lining.

"Sis… I mean, Isane, listen, it's not…" She had to swallow down a wave of nausea before proceeding. "It's not so bad! He hasn't… killed anybody, or nothing, and like this, I mean, he's… really easy to talk to!"

A gentle hand on her shoulder brought Isane's livid features around to another target. Standing at his betrothed's shoulder wearing a hastily thrown-on robe and sandals, Jushirō Ukitake seemed more surprised than upset. "Kiyone-chan… Are you saying you've conversed with it?"

"Him." Kiyone corrected her hero firmly. "Jigoku's a person, Ukitake-shama. Ur-hara was wrong. He ain't no robot, he's, like… Hell. Itself. And stuff."

Upon hearing this revelation Captain Kotetsu looked over to regard the swaggering demon as it cavorted with a bunch of slap-happy drunks by the bar. If Kiyone had actually managed to subvert Jigoku's attention to the point where they could communicate with one another, then maybe…

"Don't bother, Sis." When she looked back the little lush was slowly shaking her head in a negative fashion. "We a'ready tried that. If ya ask him anything 'bout why he's here, he just launches right into his 'Principal has been permanented' speech and he won't stop unless you give him a drink. But he will talk about other stuff! Like Hell. Did you… did you know…" Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper and she peered shiftily about as though in fear of being spied upon. "Did you know Hell is, like… older than any other dimension?"

"What?"

"Yeah! I was surprised too! But Jigoku says… he says that… grief… was the first emotion… in the world. And the ones… who felt it… gained souls. So that's how souls began."

Isane and Jushirō looked at one another. An unspoken communication passed between them. In response Ukitake took the wobbly Kiyone by the arm and escorted her over to a booth that was currently reserved for people who had already passed out. His former Third Seat went along without protest, smiling and happy to be in his company. He maneuvered some space for them both to sit and after receiving a nod from Isane, set about attempting to elicit more information from her.

Once she was sure Kiyone would cause no further harm this night, the silver-haired shinigami set off on her own mission. Perhaps some lingering trace of her predecessor's intimidating aura chose this moment to manifest itself, for the crowds parted like breakers against the keel of a ship. In just a few steps she found herself by Jigoku's side. It… he was sitting on the edge of a sunken firepit holding a jug of alcohol tenderly in the crook of one arm. Hard to say considering his lack of eyes, but he appeared to be absorbed by the dancing flames.

Everyone else had beat a hasty retreat upon spotting the towering woman in expensive clothes. This allowed her to take a seat beside him without any altercations. For a time they simply sat there with neither saying a word.

"Jigoku-sama?" she finally hazarded after collecting her thoughts. He looked over, and Isane flinched at finding herself under the perusal of that blank visage. "I am Isane Kotetsu, a captain of the Seireitei and head of Clan Kotetsu."

"Hi," he said right back. Then he lifted the booze jug. "Wanna drink?"

She looked between it and him. "No, thank you."

Jigoku simply shrugged. He then tilted the lip of the container up to his face and threw his head back. Isane half-expected him to be wearing the contents considering his lack of a mouth. Despite this, not a trace of rice wine went trickling down his cheeks from what she could see. At the same time she half convinced herself her ears could detect the sound of someone taking deep gulps. Eventually Jigoku came back down with a satisfied sigh. He flung the empty bottle forcefully off to one side, where it shattered against a wall. Was there anything in there to begin with, Isane wondered? Maybe he's just drunk on the idea of wine, or even the memory of it. Who knows how someone like this works?

"Jigoku-sama, may I ask you a question?"

"You just did."

There was nothing mean-spirited about his response. It sounded like he was stating a fact. Taking that as encouragement, the determined soul pressed on. "Can you tell me… who and what you are?"

"I… we… are Jigoku." Without even waiting for her to ask what that meant, he continued. "We form Hell. Unlike in life, we are defined by our focus, not by individual means. Only when stepping outside the bounds of Hell into realms such as your own are we called upon to assert elements beyond the application of retribution. This grants us the means to treat with those who do not share our focus."

He stopped talking. Whether he was still drunk or not proved hard to gauge at this point considering how lucid he sounded. Meanwhile Isane was amazed. She had grown accustomed to thinking of Jigoku as little more than an automaton performing a task, like Urahara had suggested. Yet here he displayed free will and even a capability to be open about himself. Kiyone had nailed it. Jigoku was a real person after all.

Mindful of her sister's warning about pressing him concerning his mission, she tried another tack. "What is this 'focus' you mentioned?"

"Upon death, souls who seek amelioration for unredressed wrongs committed against them while still alive are offered conscription into the rulings of damnation. Should they accept, the punishment of those responsible for such pain will commence upon termination of any barriers which prevent Hell from exercising its focus."

Glancing around nervously, as though fearful such secrets were not meant for her ears, Isane leaned in closer. "Can you go into more detail?"

Jigoku's head was bobbing up and down a bit, yet this seemingly did not prevent him from answering. "We seek repose through expiation of those emotions which we were denied the chance to purge while alive. In short, vengeance. Those responsible for our earthly anguish are made to endure for as long as we last. Should our focus be fulfilled prior to their transgressions being fully remedied, another Jigoku will take our place. In the process the damned spirits and ours are ultimately reclaimed, just as when living souls die in your world. The loam of spiritual matter from which new souls are born in the mortal realm is laid both in Hell and Soul Society. It is cosmopolitan; hence the source makes no difference. Cleansed souls fall from Soul Society, and rise from Hell, yet all form the same basic substrate that is the overall living soul of our planet."

This reminded her of debates at the Academy. Only now the person doing the lecturing was speaking from an intellectual perspective that surpassed anything like experience or learning. Jigoku seemed to simply know what he was talking about. "What about Hollows who are damned? Why exactly do you need a shinigami's aid to claim them?"

"Hollows exist outside normal parameters. A vessel with no bottom cannot contain our pain. Lacking the means to properly atone for their sins, we cannot castigate them to our satisfaction. They are dead inside until this emptiness is devoured by a shinigami, exposing their sins for our focus. Otherwise even if we were to punish them, despite being able to experience fear, agony and suffering, there is no way for them to know remorse, guilt or shame. The process would only result in their soul's destruction, nothing more. At the same time, we would derive no lessening of our torment, for only through imparting the grief we have experienced onto our targets can we relieve our focus and be reborn."

Isane sat riveted by his explanations. She pondered his cup analogy for a while before replying. "So konsō of a plus or purification of a Hollow is about removing the part of them that is empty, not filling it."

"Correct. Death gods draw in the spiritual hunger of their charges through purification, allowing them to escape any lingering element of the living world. You shinigami reflect a state of being separate from the plane of mortals, which is why those who come here at your bidding do not experience want. Such mercy causes you to endure want of the spirit in their place. To address this imbalance in yourselves, shinigami require additional sustenance beyond that of your environment. You continue to do this even after their souls are ensconced within Soul Society, which is derived from the shinigami soul. That is the reason sinful actions committed by the residents of Soul Society are not subject to Hell's purview."

Really? She had always been taught that since shinigami souls were so powerful, they needed more energy than could be provided naturally from Soul Society, unlike the plus souls. Could she and every other death god be acting as proxies for all their charges, enduring hunger and thirst so they wouldn't have to? This was absolutely fascinating. If what Jigoku said was true, the act of konsō itself, in which a shinigami absolved an earthbound spirit of its woes, imparted a sort of deficiency from the plus into themselves.

"Then that means you, Jigoku, are like the mirror opposite of a shinigami. We accept something from other souls into our own, while you force what is inside you into them."

He nodded his head in an absent manner. "Jigoku burn out when we have no further wrongs to sustain us. Shinigami die when their spirits can no longer accept the burden of further souls."

The way he said it caused Jigoku to appear rather vulnerable. Isane was surprised to find herself empathizing with the devil. They were opposites spiritually speaking, yet both had an imperative to perform. A job, as it were. It made her see him in a whole new light. For this reason, she decided to ask something more personal. "Jigoku, who were you before becoming a demon?"

Right away she knew that had been a mistake, for his blank white head twitched.

"Wait, hold on!" Isane frantically sought to ameliorate the damage. "I only meant–!"

"The Principal has been officially terminated. Corollary effect of Contractual…"

Oh, hell!

"You broke him again, huh?"

The captain looked behind her to find Kiyone standing a few paces off. She had gotten a refill and a shot of renewed confidence with it. Jushirō stood close by looking abashed. Isane threw a dire look at Kiyone, who contrived to appear absorbed by her own reflection in the cup of saké. Her fiancé gave a helpless shrug of his shoulders when she turned that glower on him, a gesture clearly meant to say, 'Oh, like I could ever control her!'

Jigoku was still jabbering his stock speech. Isane inspected him for a while before rising to draw away from the inebriated devil. Ukitake and her sister followed, and once at a distance she came about to address them in no uncertain terms.

"Alright. As far as I can tell, this experience hasn't done any real harm. Trying to move Jigoku might draw undue attention. So he will remain here, and you…" she leveled a warning finger right at Kiyone's nose, who peered at it in a cross-eyed manner, "are going to make sure he stays! Under no circumstances is he to leave this inn. I'll have a word with the proprietor and make arrangements for it to be reserved for the foreseeable future. And whatever influence you have in controlling any rumors about tonight, Kiyone, I suggest you employ it. Good night!"

So saying she spun about and stomped angrily towards the inn's offices. No one attempted to block her path.

After giving a comforting pat on the head and a few whispered words of encouragement in his future sister-in-law's ear, Jushirō strove to catch up to his bride-to-be. "I've never seen you so angry before," he commented lightly.

Isane didn't answer. In truth, she wasn't upset. Learning that Jigoku had any sort of relatable behavior helped reassure her they might figure out a means to send him back to Hell. She just wished they could have discovered this in a manner less inclined to invite disaster.

"Perhaps I should take over this part of the affair?" her betrothed continued as they proceeded through the deafening merrymaking. "A request from a retired shinigami might be less stressful to our host than a command from the Lady of Kotetsu. We don't want to add any more confusion to this situation than already exists."

At this the head of Heron Squad stopped and placed a hand on a nearby support post. Her shoulders slumped and she bent over to cover her face. Before Jushirō could grow concerned Isane had already straightened up and turned weary brown eyes upon him. "I'm sorry," she explained. "This just caught me at a bad time. First Yamamoto dies, then Jigoku shows up, the R&D Bureau nearly self-destructed, I have to be measured for the wedding attire again because I seem to have grown another inch somehow, and now this. I envy Kiyone. I wish I could drink!" She gave a dispirited shake of her head. "I cannot believe we're going to be married in two days."

"One," he corrected with a chipper smile. "It's past midnight."

This brought a groan in response and once more the silver-haired healer doubled over as though experiencing severe stomach cramps. Jushirō draped a comforting arm around Isane's shoulders. "This won't last. Before you know it, everything that seemed so overwhelming will be a memory."

"Only if something even worse occurs," she responded glumly. Straightening up, the tall beauty turned a tired smile upon him. "I'm sorry if I sound so pessimistic. Despite how it may appear, I really am looking forward to tomorrow. And not just to have it done with!" she hastily added.

Ukitake couldn't help but smile at her distress. He wondered if Isane knew how cute she looked when she became flustered. That might be something to share when they got married… or keep to himself to enjoy. A quick chuckle emerged at the thought. In response her face broke into a full-blown smile, causing Isane to sparkle.

'Cute' metamorphosed into 'beautiful,' and just like that Ukitake found himself enchanted by his intended bride. Societal taboos against displaying affection be damned, I should kiss her right now! He reached up a hand to do so…

"You chop me… I CHOP YOOOOU!"

A squeal of pain from off to one side was followed by a tremendous spurt of blood that hit Isane Kotetsu right in the face.

Eyes closed and lips pressed tightly together, she stood ramrod straight with clenched fists trembling and crimson droplets dripping down her chin. Jushirō remained with one arm outstretched and eyes wide in shock. He noted with a measure of surprise that none of it had hit him. Maybe I shouldn't be relieved about that?

"That's it."

Isane's eyes cracked open a bit, and Ukitake shuddered at what he saw lurking in their depths.

"No more healing for Tiger Company. Ever."

Upon registering the resolve in that threat, the legendary ex-captain then threw himself into his very first chance at allaying his intended's wrath.

---

"Alright, here we go, one more attempt to revive Subject: Kurotsuchi Mayuri!" Urahara Kisuke flung out an arm. "May it be our last! Throw the switch, Nemu-chan!"

His first officer complied. Immediately bolts of purple lightning filled the room, illuminating the mad scientist and his assistant. A pressure built up in their ears until they popped, upon which…

The lights went out, and everything went dead.

Standing in the dark with his arm still authoritatively raised, Kisuke chewed the side of his cheek. Against the backdrop of total network and grid failure, he had no trouble picking out the furious screams of numerous researchers located throughout the cavernous R&D Bureau who were understandably distressed at finding their power had just been disconnected. He pondered how best to address this situation.

Light sprang up to illuminate a ghoulish face hovering right in front of him.

"AAHHH!"

What is the meaning of this ruckus?! We are trying to… ! Oh, it's just you. Carry on, boy.

"Urahara-taichou," Nemu Kurotsuchi spoke with a flashlight beam shining below her chin, "this makes 23 failed attempts. Would you like to break for lunch?"

Straightening up, her superior favored his inscrutable assistant with a mordant grin. "Nope! Rev up the backup generator, my dear lieutenant! Attempt #24, here we come!"

Bowing, Nemu turned away, flicking off the light as she did.

"Hey, wait, can you leave the fla–?"

There then followed a loud crash, followed by muffled cursing. Undeterred, Nemu continued in her assignment, fully able to see in pitch blackness and not particularly concerned with anyone who wasn't.

---

His wedding day had finally arrived, and Byakuya Kuchiki could not wait for it to end.

It wasn't a question of being uncomfortable. In truth he allowed precious little to trouble himself at this point. Preparations were ready in case of enemy action. All arrangements for the ceremony had been handled with exacting detail, as was his wont. Recognized family of both Shihoin and Kuchiki stood in orderly rows at his back to observe the proceedings, while the wedding guests awaited them at a hall on the Kuchiki grounds where they would be formally presented to society as husband and wife afterwards. The weather today was perfect, bright and just cool enough for autumn that he did not feel overdressed. He was wearing a very comfortable, elegant kimono ensemble in black and white. None of this in any way imparted turmoil upon his soul.

It was having her so close to him.

She stood at his side, resplendent in red and white. Her uchikake kimono was of incomparable quality, layer upon layer of sumptuous fabric encasing her body, emblazoned with the lamp-and-stars kamon of the Shihoin. He dreaded damaging it when he tore it off.

The makeup she had on was spare but tasteful, masterfully applied with only the fingertips of trained cosmeticians. Truly a shame that his kisses would smear away any trace of artistry.

Beneath the small white cloth crown she wore were two jeweled pins which held up all of that lustrous purple hair in cunningly wrought folds. Her skin had been lightly perfumed with the scent of apple blossoms. So much work, such attention to detail, and all for naught, as he planned to leave her drenched in sweat, hair spilling untamed across the bed as he gazed down upon her.

The crowning work of some of the most gifted artisans in all of Soul Society. A pity I must destroy the result of such talent.

The guests would be shocked to learn what thoughts lurked behind my lord's impassive mask.

Your spying is not appreciated at this time, Senbonzakura.

You think I would not avail myself of this? I have been waiting just as long as you to be rid of your simmering frustrations. Having been present at your first marriage, I–

You will not be present for that moment, believe me.

What, you intend to stuff me in a cupboard with that perverse Tezcat?! How gauche! And after all we zanpakuto have done to benefit you both! Yet the moment you find us inconvenient, we are summarily dismissed from mind and company to…!

His soul cutter's complaints receded into the back of his mind with practiced ease. One soul or no, he was not obligated to share everything he had with Senbonzakura. And in this case, he considered himself more than justified in exercising what some might consider unworthy greed.

The wedding of Lord Kuchiki and Lady Shihoin was held outdoors in an enclosed courtyard on the grounds of the bride's estate. A single sycamore grew at the center of this otherwise unadorned spot, towering over the walls that ringed them. Its leaves were bright green tinged by pure scarlet tips with the coming of fall. Here for generations the Shihoin had held their weddings.

The attendant priest stood before a small shrine at the base of the tree flanked by two miko priestesses. As he continued the purification ritual, the Lord of the Kuchiki stared straight ahead. Whether a trick of the mind or not, Byakuya could swear he felt warmth radiating off Yoruichi. It was as though her bankai was activated but contained within her. He wondered if she too were conversing with her zankpakuto at this moment as he had been. She had betrayed no trace of anxiety as their wedding day approached. Of course, neither had he, but to be fair this was not his first time, as Senbonzakura so artfully mentioned.

As the pair of nobles stood beneath the shade of the sycamore, their closest family was seated behind them in the sunshine pouring down. Rukia was there, dressed in lavender and white robes with lilac blossoms stitched into the fabric so realistically one might almost smell them. Around her neck she wore a treasure of the Kuchiki household; cords of pearls swathed in silk encased her throat, held together by carved quartz bands tied with black ribbons. Hisana's necklace, given to her after they were married, which served to mark her as Lady of the Kuchiki until the day she died. Upon entering the family, Rukia had inherited the necklace at Byakuya's insistence.

Once the sight of her wearing that treasured clasp and all its memories would have served to reopen old wounds. But it had been years since grief over his first wife's passing had clouded his thoughts. And that was in no small part due to Rukia herself. She had become his sister so fully, in a way he had never anticipated when they first met. Now their lives held each other at every step. Everything she did or became since then served only to uplift his spirits. What had once been an obligation was now a reward. Could Hisana have known just how much her final wish would serve to enrich him? He liked to think that was the case. It was a lasting testament to the person he chose to be his wife so long ago.

As his sister, Rukia would retain the title of Lady Kuchiki even after today. While their leaders would be wed, the Shihoin and Kuchiki would remain separate entities ruled over by their respective lord and lady. The disposition of any children was a matter that could be settled in their futures. His own, Yoruichi's, Rukia's…

'I have come before you, Lord Kuchiki, to ask…'

Momentary rage, which he quashed. Do not think of that now. Today is not about such nonsense.

The priest had completed his prayers. From the shrine he took a small dish containing purest salt and a flask of rice wine. One of the miko accompanied him carrying a single cup, while the other picked up a mallet and stood ready beside an ornamental gong. Crossing over to the couple, the elderly shaman held out the salt dish. Yoruichi went first, licking the side of her hand and dipping it into the salt. She then held it out for Byakuya, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Oh, how she must have been looking forward to this part.

With studious care, he bent down and dutifully licked the grains from her skin. Symbolism notwithstanding, the erotic aspect in this particular element of marriage was not lost upon him. Very fortunate he had already been entertaining far more advanced fantasies throughout the entire proceedings or it might have served to undo him. Control, that was needed her. It wasn't over yet. Straightening up, Byakuya did not miss the wink his beloved shot at him which the spectators could not see. Outwardly calm, he went about anointing his own hand with salt and presented it to her.

Somewhat more slowly than necessary, Yoruichi bent down. Some might argue she did so in order to ensure no aspect of her attire was displaced. Byakuya knew better. His cat goddess was drawing out the moment, letting him burn with anticipation for what must come next. With utmost leisure she drew closer until he could feel her breath ghosting gently across his flesh. For all his composure, the Kuchiki lord could not tear his eyes away from the sight of her. Golden eyes flicked up to regard him with a dangerous gleam. As his heart began to pound, her warm tongue slipped out to lick languorously all along him from wrist to pinky. She bit him there, ever so gently, and only the suspicion she might try something like that kept him from jumping out of his skin. Nothing less from the woman he loved.

Yoruichi came up with a sultry smile that in no way belonged at a wedding. Stone-faced, Byakuya still felt certain there was color rising to his cheeks. He almost missed when the priest poured a libation and held it out to him. The noble lord accepted this offering and took a drink before passing the cup to Yoruichi. As he did the other priestess struck the gong once, and when the bride took her sip, again, followed by one last tone when the groom finished the cup. Six more times the gong rang out as they repeated this in reverse and then again from the beginning, nine in all to herald prosperity and good fortune.

We are almost wed.

They were clasping hands now, still facing one another. When that started he could not remember. The priest intoned something over their interlaced fingers, and magic stirred, drawing from their spirits to form a thin band that wrapped around their arms. Being both shinigami it was pure red in color. Byakuya hardly noticed. He stared at the woman across from him, remembering how she had looked throughout all their time together. Yoruichi as he had first met her, wearing a captain's robe and grinning cheekily at the hostile and confused young prince. Yoruichi in the garb of the Stealth Forces, calmly informing him in the presence of his father and grandfather that his mother had been slain by a Hollow. Yoruichi, naked, lounging in the bower of a tree as shafts of sunlight illuminated her body through the leaves. Yoruichi dressed as a vagabond, hair grown so long with an enchanted cloth wrapped around his sword to prevent him from murdering her pupil.

Had you asked him at any of those times, he would have told you she could not ever be more beautiful. How wrong he had been. It was right now, here, as the priest removed the band and spoke these words…

"Shihoin Yoruichi, Kuchiki Byakuya, having accepted these gifts and made your wishes clear, I do hereby declare thee wed. Step forth into your new lives."

Yoruichi kissed him without hesitation. She must have been aching from restraint. He didn't notice until then just how much strength it had taken not to do the same, for his body went limp with release such that he nearly toppled. Instead Byakuya pulled Yoruichi into his embrace, lifting her up and holding her off the ground like he never intended to let go.

People were clapping politely. Lost in the haze of his bride's adventurous mouth, he hardly noticed the world around him, although the lovesick lord could have sworn he heard someone shout, "Yeah, go get him!" Yoruichi broke the kiss. Then with a yelp of pure delight she threw her arms around his neck and held on with all her strength. He could feel her heart booming against his chest along with a very self-satisfied purring rumble.

New life. New wife. My congratulations to you both.

Thank you.

"Thank you," he gasped without thinking.

"Thank you…?!" she whispered back, and laughed. "Gods, I love you."

He felt so foolish then, but at the same time giddy as could be. It really happened. Nothing went wrong. We waited a hundred years, and now… we've finally done it.

This moment is all ours. Everything else can wait.

He might have stayed there all day with her in that same position had he been allowed. But eventually Yoruichi spoke softly to him. "Byakuya, we should start."

"Yes," he agreed immediately, snapping back to himself. They drew apart but clasped hands as well. He felt somewhat overwhelmed. What came next in the ceremony? It completely slipped his mind.

His wife picked up the slack. She turned her head to address the crowd of well-wishers. "We will see you all at the reception held on the Kuchiki grounds. Please enjoy yourselves there until then."

A note of royal command made that otherwise casual statement an order. Being well-versed in court nuance, their families proceeded to engage in a choreographed departure that took note of rank, seniority, and family ties. So orderly was this undertaking that in under sixty seconds the two of them were alone in that sunlit court.

Do I detect a potential smile, my lord?

I seem to have forgotten how, Senbonzakura. Would you please remind me?

Oddly enough, Yoruichi wasn't smiling either. She certainly didn't have the excuse of not having done so for almost 100 years. The sight surprised Byakuya. He had thought himself prepared for anything on her part.

Why did Yoruichi not smile?

"Byakuya," she said in a clear voice while looking him straight in the eye. "I have news for you."

He found himself staring at her mouth, willing his old love and new bride to smile with a childish sort of determination. Because of this, he saw the shape of her lips move to form the next words.

"You have a son."

---

Rukia slipped away as soon as she was out the door of the wedding site. With a grace that owed more to her childhood racing along the packed streets of Inuzuri than any Kuchiki training, she maneuvered through the press of exquisitely dressed dignitaries and made her way down the halls of Shihoin manor. At last the eager princess approached one door out of many which she opened.

Waiting inside, Noboru leapt upright. "Are they coming?!"

She shut the screen behind her. "The ceremony just ended. It will take some time for Lady Yoruichi to explain. You should sit back down and wait."

"Aaagh!" he exclaimed and began to pace anxiously back and forth. Dressed in a yellow and black kimono worthy of a prince, the young lordling's hair had been combed into a presentable shape which seemed to make him quite jittery about damaging it. As Rukia watched he withdrew a familiar sandalwood comb and began frantically readjusting his coiffure. The state of his nerves left such attempts doing more harm than good. "I can't take this, baa-san! I'm all keyed up, I could really use a run. Is there anywhere I can get in a quick run? I could really go for a run right now!"

"Don't worry." Rukia's calm voice halted his pacing. "Your mother will handle everything."

He looked at her beseechingly as she came up to him. Plucking the disguised zanpakuto from his twitching grip, she took him by the hand and drew her nephew down to sit once more. Upon kneeling behind him Rukia began to run the enchanted comb through his hair with slow purposeful rhythm. Noboru settled down almost immediately, shoulders sagging. He had been like this for the last week. It had gotten to the point where she worried he might not be fit to attend the wedding, hidden or not.

Fortunately that fear had proven false. In his monkey shape up in the sycamore tree, he had observed the whole event without anyone being made aware of him. Rukia had kept an eye on his whereabouts. Except for that one outburst at the end, there was nothing to indicate his presence. Afterwards he made it back to the prearranged meeting point. It was here that everything would finally be laid bare. No more secrets to be kept. Just a family, together for the first time.

When she felt Noboru had sufficiently calmed, his aunt tucked Hanuman into his hair and moved to sit seiza beside him. When he began to twitch and looked ready to start fussing with his hairdo again she reached over to entwine his fingers with her own and give a reassuring squeeze. That served to soothe his jumpiness. Now they sat in the center of the meeting room, staring at the closed door in front of them. When it opened, Nii-sama would meet his son. From then on she felt certain things would be all right.

A few minutes passed without comment. Chancing a look at Noboru, Rukia grew alarmed at how rigid he appeared. He was clenching his jaw, face schooled into an unnaturally deadpan cast. Those gold-tinged gray eyes stared straight ahead. His spine was stiff as a board. When she reached over to pat his hand tenderly, he gave no sign of noticing. Distressed, Rukia regarded her nephew. This was not how she had hoped for the first meeting with his father to start out. He looked in danger of snapping from the strain.

He sort of reminds me of Byakuya like this. The old Byakuya, at least.

Don't forget, that Nii-sama was based on our own misconceptions. His heart was full of love even back then, which Noboru definitely inherited from both his parents. He's a very joyful boy!

Not right now, he isn't. He's a ticking time bomb. That much rigidity is not natural!

Well, what do you recommend? How do people usually relieve stress?

They do something enjoyable. Listen to music. Exercise. Laugh. Have sex.

That's it!

Are you serious?

No, not that, the other one!

Her free hand slowly reached over and…

She tickled him.

Noboru jumped where he sat. His head snapped around to stare in open-mouthed surprise at her, but Rukia had already retracted her arm swift as thought. She gazed tranquilly forward, at perfect ease. The boy's mouth worked up and down as though trying to form a question. When nothing else happened he proceeded to follow her example. His head twitched towards her as though to catch Rukia in the act, but when she remained outwardly calm Noboru resumed his silent vigil.

So she tickled him again.

The kid yelped and spun about. "Cut it out, baa-san!"

"What?" She regarded him with regal sang-froid. "Is something amiss, Noboru?"

"Wh– you just…!"

"I think I hear them coming." She cocked her head to one side, and immediately he turned in the same direction. The moment he did Rukia's thin fingers were already digging into his ribs again.

"Baa-san, I… ! Quit it! S-stop, I'm-m-mph! I'm gonna-a-a-AH-HAH!" Desperately he strove to bat away her nimble fingers. Rukia responded with a barrage of tickling attacks from all directions. Arms flailed and flew, imploring shouts gave way to peals of helpless merriment as her assault scored direct hits on his ribs, and then Noboru was flat on his back, squirming helplessly and howling with laughter as Rukia proceeded to tickle him for all she was worth.

---

"When I left you a century ago, I was pregnant," Yoruichi continued. "I didn't know it at the time, but after a while hiding out in the mortal realm, it became obvious. Neither Urahara or Tessai knew. Once I got them settled in, I left to scout out other hidey-holes. It gave me the opportunity to manage things without them getting wise to my condition. Eventually the baby was born, and I left him with some trustworthy guardians to keep him safe."

She stopped and waited for a response. His eyes were wide, lips slightly parted. He shook his head. When he looked at her again, Byakuya's face had gone ashen.

"Why did you…?"

He swallowed, and a shiver passed through him. Yoruichi had never felt more cold than right at that moment. Even practicing what to say beforehand, and knowing this man the way she did, there remained a distinct possibility that she might have messed this up. But one thing Yoruichi knew for certain was that waiting any longer served no good purpose.

At last Byakuya appeared to regain some measure of composure, though he still looked dreadful. There was anger there, whether directed at her or a wealth of worthy targets, and the next words he spoke were icy with pain. "Why did you wait to tell me until now?"

Her eyes roved over his face in search of some sign it might turn out for the best, but even when no such reassurance came back, the Flash Goddess still answered. "Because I couldn't have an ulterior motive behind you marrying me. I know what people will say afterwards. I didn't want you to feel in any way obligated. And you are a man who lives and dies by obligation."

He tensed then, as though ready to spring forward, grab Yoruichi and shake out any more secrets that might be lurking in the eaves of her soul. "So this was for my sake," the stormy-eyed lord declared in acid tones.

"There is no other reason I've waited this long, Byakuya."

When she said nothing more, even with those hawk eyes demanding the fullest of explanations, Byakuya slowly inhaled, and let it out. His face did not change with the next question. "What is his name?"

Yoruichi licked her lips in uncharacteristic hesitancy. "Noboru."

Her heart sank when he didn't say the name right away.

"Where is he?"

She rubbed an arm, the fine wedding clothes feeling constrictive around her body in a way they hadn't before. Yoruichi found it hard to speak from the tight knob of anguish growing in her chest. "Here in the mansion, waiting to meet you. Rukia is with him. I told her everything back at the start of this year, and made her swear not to tell you. She's kept our son safe all that time."

To her careful eye there appeared to be a slight lessening of the tension that gripped his frame upon hearing about Rukia. Have I blown this marriage right off the bat?

"Take me to him."

With a slow nod, Yoruichi turned and led the way from the site of their wedding, feeling slow and awkward for perhaps the first time in her entire existence.

I have royally screwed this up.

Don't get so down. There's a good reason you chose that gloomy lump to call your husband.

Tezcat, this is serious. I did it all wrong. I should have let them meet before, or told him earlier, or maybe not at all!

Chew back the hysteria, will you? Unless I miss my guess, we've got one last card to play.

You want to let me in on it?

You'll find out in a minute.

I'm not fond of surprises.

But you love secrets. And this one's name is Noboru Kuchiki.

As they moved down the corridors towards their destination, a faint sound reached her ears. Yoruichi turned back to Byakuya, wondering if perhaps it might be coming from him. But his expression hadn't changed. Although if I'm not mistaken, he looks just a bit confused.

No surprise. Not like it's something you hear a lot of at Kuchiki Manor.

Tezcat? Is that…?

Oh, yes, dear girl.

---

The first sound Byakuya Kuchiki heard his son make was laughter.

Happy, hysterical mirth came pouring down the hall. His brow crinkled in disbelief. Walking in front of him, Yoruichi looked unsure what to make of this either. Whatever was causing it did not appear to be part of her plan. Still reeling from everything that had just been laid bare before him, his heart teetered between outrage and uncertainty what to feel.

It's coming from that room up ahead.

Senbonzakura, what…

Silence. I'll hear no more from you until this is over. Your son is waiting.

The zanpakutō's presence vanished, leaving him momentarily bereft. But the laughter didn't stop. An emotion awoke in him. With sudden purpose Byakuya moved past a surprised Yoruichi. Urgent steps crossed the remaining distance and he flung open the door in question.

Before him, a brown-skinned boy with messy raven-black hair screamed with laughter as a disheveled Rukia tickled him mercilessly.

His sister noticed their arrival at once. She hopped up and whirled about to take her seat before them, hands resting demurely in her lap. With flushed face and sparkling eyes, Rukia composed herself with all due haste. "Nii-sama," was all she said.

That got the boy's attention. Immediately he scrambled up to sit beside Rukia. The youth stared at his looming parent, out of breath and completely at a loss. "I–!" he gasped, and then burst into a fit of giggles which he strove heroically to keep in. Clapping his hands to his mouth, the lad closed his eyes and shook from the effort, tears pouring down his cheeks.

At last he got himself under control. His mouth opened, and he drew in a breath, only to hold it for several seconds, until finally…

"I'm Noboru," the young man blurted out. "Nice to… meet…"

Byakuya took two steps forward and dropped to his knees before him.

"… you."

Eyes grey as thunderheads stared into their match, only tinged by a circle of pure gold.

Noboru settled down fast then. He gazed wide-eyed at his silent parent for several seconds. "Please don't scream, okay? I can take everyone else doing that, but not… y'know, not you."

Yoruichi stood in the doorframe watching them. When Noboru looked to her for support, she did not move. Her attention was riveted on her lord-husband's back. Rukia too made not a sound.

At last the classically handsome stranger in expensive wedding clothes stirred. His deep voice came out in an oddly detached manner.

"You are… our son."

One of Noboru's eyebrows rose. "Are you speaking in the majestic plural, or did you mean that like yours and Mom's?"

All Byakuya said in response was…

"Noboru."

And then he smiled.

Upon seeing this utterly amazing sight, the boy felt his heart ache like never before. The only possible solution was to leap forward and wrap his small arms around that surprisingly warm frame without conscious thought. Which he then did.

"Father," Noboru sobbed with his head buried against the man's chest.

A moment later Yoruichi joined them, and the family held one another, together at last.

Off to one side, Rukia sat spellbound at seeing her honored elder brother smile for the first time in fifty years. It was just so wondrous to behold. Like witnessing the sunrise, or hearing the person you love speak your name after being apart. She wished Ichigo was here to share this moment with her.

Maybe we should leave them to it?

I think that might be for the best.

About to stand, Rukia was interrupted by someone saying, "Oh, no, you don't!" A strong arm snaked around her stomach and a moment later Rukia found herself pulled unceremoniously into the pile of noble hugs. Stupefied at the speed of this arrangement, she felt Yoruichi nuzzle the top of her head affectionately before settling back into their show of familial support.

I bet the little monkey's going to use this opportunity to tickle you back.

I doubt very much Noboru has the opportunity to even consider…

A second later she gave a squeal as Sode no Shirayuki's prediction proved accurate.

Told'ja so.

---

"Are you sure we shouldn't wear kimono?" Kon asked.

"Hold still!"

Sporting a glum look befitting a hen-pecked husband, the seeming teenager sat dutifully on the couch as he submitted to his self-appointed seamstress. Satisfied, Karin Kurosaki went back to concentrating on getting his necktie right. She had been trying for the past few minutes, and he was seriously starting to wonder if doing it himself might not be faster.

"You need to give it more material on the flared end, Karin-chan," Yuzu Kurosaki pointed out at her big sister's shoulder. "See, right before where it first starts to get wider? That's where you want to be when you draw it over for the second crossed part." She indicated the spot in question helpfully before turning back to her brother Ichigo's tie, which was progressing much more smoothly.

"I know!" Karin grumped. When Kon opened his mouth again, she flashed a look that promptly caused him to shut it. Somewhat red-faced and noticeably frazzled, the girl angrily pulled apart her latest effort and started over from the beginning, narrowing her eyes in concentration as though plotting where to kick a soccer ball for maximum impact.

"I do believe… yes. Done." Ise Nanao took a step back and examined the subject with a critical air. Ichigo Kurosaki fidgeted with his back to her right next to Kon on the couch. When he reached up a hand, she snapped, "Don't touch!"

Meekly the arm dropped back down. His hair had resisted all efforts to comb it up 'til Nanao employed what could only be witchcraft. Unable to see himself but certain he must look like a complete dweeb, the self-conscious teen squirmed inside his best suit for formal occasions, which felt as though it might have shrunk a bit since last being used but damned if he was going to admit to that and potentially undergo a round of tailoring on top of everything else. His tie seemed well proportioned; not too far down his chest and not too short. At the same time, it was so tight that he was finding it hard to breathe. Yet he resisted the urge to adjust the garrote around his throat for when Yuzu wasn't looking.

Nanao adjusted her glasses before giving a pleased nod at their combined handiwork. She crossed around the back of the couch to join the twin girls, wearing a pale yellow kimono with bright orange cross-stitching and a pure white obi sash around her waist. As their designated chaperone, the one-time shinigami had elected to dress in attire that would not draw any questions where they were going from those guests not acquainted with the mortal allies of Soul Society. Since both Kon and Ichigo had opted for clothes more suited to the modern world, it would require someone not challenging the social order with their apparel to clear up any confusion. And speaking of inappropriate attire, if Renji Abarai brought his poor guileless co-captain to this affair bedecked in yet another ridiculous getup, she was resolved to absolutely murder him this time.

While Karin continued to fuss over Kon's tie, Yuzu flopped back in a chair and heaved a dispirited sigh. "I still wish we could go too. How come you guys got invited and not us? I was here when Sir Kuchiki and Lady Shihoin made the announcement! Do you think maybe it was because of the tea I served him? Oh, I wish I could be there."

"Sir Kuchiki?" Ichigo grumbled, only to close his trap when Nanao's spectacles flashed a warning.

"It has nothing to do with your behavior, Yuzu-chan," the sorceress responded as she drew a pad from her robe and began checking things off a list. "The Kuchiki family is very strict in regards to propriety; no children are allowed to attend this wedding whatsoever. However I'm sure Kuchiki-sama was very pleased with the hospitality you provided him. He is not a man to suffer inadequate service for any length of time."

This praise caused the girl to brighten to a noticeable extent. Karin glanced over at her younger sibling. It hadn't escaped her notice that Yuzu had been acting a bit differently since that encounter with Rukia's bewitching elder brother. Up to this point she didn't give it much thought, being preoccupied with certain experiences of her own. Still, maybe today would be a good opportunity to sit down for a sisterly chat? Not like they were going anywhere.

Yeah. Sounds good. Just as soon as I manhandle this stupid Western doohickey into submission. Karin then yanked apart the half-completed neckwear roughly, causing Kon to issue a protest that she silenced with a meaningful scowl. He subsided without further ado to endure the dark-haired tween's not-so-tender mercies.

The family patriarch Isshin chose this moment to leap up from his place against a wall and chime in. "Now, Yuzu, don't be that way. Daddy isn't going either! We've got the whole day together, filled with activities and puzzles and quiet boredom, just like a regular family! Who needs those stuffy old Kuchiki, right?" He then fell to excitedly performing one-armed push-ups at a dizzying pace.

To his surprise, not only did Karin ignore this perfect opportunity to lash out at him, but Yuzu of all people turned a look upon her father that could only be described as… disappointed! As though she were comparing him to another man in her head and finding the proud single parent to be sorely unimpressive. He froze in mid-pushup, shocked. This was unexpected and quite unwelcome territory for Isshin. Sure, Karin treated him like an obnoxious stranger most of the time, but Yuzu… she's always been on my side! We're pals, of one heart and mind, and now… someone else has wormed his way in! A better-looking man, with more money, a nicer wardrobe, and possibly even a hotter dead wife by now! No, no, say it isn't so! Is my little girl… growing up?!

"MASAKI!" the thunderstruck parent wailed and threw himself at the wall poster boasting an image of his deceased spouse. "The worst has finally happened! I'm no longer needed! What's to become of our family?!"

"That's settled, then." Nanao closed her pad. Taking a step forward, she bent down and reached around Karin. "Hey!" the girl exclaimed, but before either of them could react, she made a cross here, pulled out a loop there, tightened the knot just like so, and voila! The tie was tied.

Kon reacted with the speed of all his superhuman reflexes. Springing up, he vaulted over the back of the couch to land on his feet. "Thanks, Karin, really appreciate it, well, see you all later, bye!" In a flash he was down the hall and out the door.

"KON, YOU GET BACK HERE RIGHT NOW!" Karin made a move to chase him, only to be held back by Nanao. After being settled on the couch Karin crossed her arms with a huff. Their taskmistress glided over to the blubbering Isshin and handed him her data pad.

"I've made a list of tasks around the house that need to be completed. Once you have finished half of them, you may choose a leisure activity from the included list. Further activities are viable once the rest of the chores are finished."

As the astonished parent attempted to work out a retort, Nanao picked up her purse and headed outside. "Come along, Ichigo-san. We don't want to be late."

Ichigo had seized upon the momentary distraction to halt his impending asphyxiation. At speeds only slightly below Kon's exit, he shot up to join her. "Right, okay, well… bye!"

"Nii-sama!" Yuzu shouted after his retreating back. "Don't forget the present!"

A thwarted curse, a quick return to grab the wrapped parcel, and then he was racing out the door. Nanao affected a more sedate pace. The gate below the Usagi Shoten was their prearranged meeting spot. All the mortal invitees were heading there. Of course, these boys had been specifically warned not to enter without her. She had little doubt that regardless of how much sooner they arrived ahead, they would never disregard a warning to their benefit.

If that should prove false, the sleeping kidō she had planted on both boys beforehand should tie them up when they got within a yard of the gate. She had found it was always best to plan ahead when dealing with men.

---

Perusing a table laden with all manner of delicious delicacies, Renji's hungry focus was distracted by a familiar voice. "Hello, Captain Abarai."

His face split into a wide grin as he turned to find Uryu Ishida walking towards him across the hall. "Well, I'll be damned!" he laughed and moved to thump his old war buddy on the arm. "I heard they invited you kids, but I thought for sure a proud Quincy would never show up to a shinigami wedding!"

"Rukia arranged for the gate that transported us here." The young archer grimaced at the affectionate gesture but bore it with aplomb. "I wouldn't spurn her generosity. Some things reach beyond ancient grudges." Ishida's attention then drifted over to the buffet table. "Are we free to serve ourselves?"

"Help yourself! The ceremony's over by now, so until Lord Kuchiki shows up, I wouldn't hold back."

"I see." Without hesitation, Uryu then set about loading up several plates. Renji raised a tattooed eyebrow but did not question. Supposedly this one had a penchant for bumming food off people. He had several close friends who could be accused of the same, so he let it slide. Single guys knew not to criticize one another. His girl might be willing to cook for him, but any meal served by Neliel came with a grain of salt as to the source of the meat.

Ishida had on a pure white suit with a navy blue tie that boasted silver crosswork stitching. There was something different in his overall look, and after a bit Renji realized it was the glasses. His regular pair had been switched out with frames of pure silver. Those must be his formal specs, the shinigami reflected. Once that was settled, he took up a spot beside Ishida at the buffet and got to work.

"I'm surprised to find you here as well," Uryu commented as he dipped into the chocolate fountain. "Weren't both ceremonies happening at the same time today? Surely captains of Seireitei would be required to attend at least one."

Renji popped some feta-stuffed olives into his mouth, savoring the delicious salty taste. "The actual ceremony's only for close family, clan affiliates, that sort of thing," he spoke while chewing. "According to Rukia, they decided to hold them on the same day, at the same hour. That way it wouldn't look as if one wedding was more important by happening first. Or maybe it was to keep them from trying to one-up each other, I dunno. Soifon's attending the Shihoin wedding, and Lord Kyoraku's at the Kotetsu, but other than them we're free to go where we please." He snapped up a chocolate meringue that caught his eye and settled it comfortably amongst a small mound of enticing entrees. "So where's your date?"

Ishida twitched so hard he spilled half his plate into the chocolate fountain. It bubbled as those tasty treasures were swallowed into the molten cocoa depths. The archer rounded on him with flushed cheeks. "Who told you I was bringing a date?!"

"Nobody," Renji shrugged while eyeing a brace of roasted Cornish game hens. "I just figured a well-dressed guy like you must have snagged a honey by now. What about that Inoue babe? She's available, last I heard."

With a haughty sniff the Quincy turned back to his smorgasbord. "Inoue-san and I are good friends, nothing more."

"Yeah, I know that excuse, buddy," Abarai replied back in an unusually somber tone of voice. "Keep your chin up, okay? Second-best doesn't make you a loser."

Before Ishida could respond, a feminine voice broke in. "What are you two good-looking guys discussing over here?"

Both men turned to find themselves being approached by Renji's co-captain, Neliel tu Odelschvank. The sight of her made the Siamese Squad leader feel equal parts guilt and relief. Guilty because of the conversation he had just been having, and relieved that Nel wasn't wearing anything scandalous. Instead she sported white robes with small green clovers dyed into the fabric hems. It was a fairly expensive item that had set him back quite a bit in terms of salary lately. No visits to the sunglasses store for a while, at any rate. But it was most certainly worth every penny. For once he need not fear Nanao Ise killing him over some silly costume fiasco. Plus she looked amazing in it. He had given the ensemble to Nel beforehand, along with a very rigorous play-by-play regarding what weddings involved. She'd been fascinated by the concept, having apparently forgotten any such thing existed. Her excitement as the festivities drew nearer shown through as Nel eagerly plied him and their shinigami followers with questions about wedding customs. Her Hollow helm was partially covered by a white sunhat, and lime-green locks fell down her shoulders. She offered a friendly smile to Uryu as she approached.

"Captain Odelschvank," the bespectacled teen bowed to her politely. His trained eye roved over her outfit with a critical air. "May I say, you frequent a very accomplished tailor. That pattern is quite elegant."

"Thank you, Quincy-kun!" She twirled on her wooden sandals, giggling delightedly. "Renji paid for it out of his own pocket. He wanted to make sure there weren't any misunderstandings this time." Before he could bring up her manner of address or what these misunderstandings might entail, Nel cut him off. "So is Ichigo here yet?" She peered about eagerly.

"I… don't believe so." Ishida threw a sharp look at Renji, who maintained a deadpan expression worthy of Nemu Kurotsuchi. "I believe he and Kon are coming together with Nanao Ise. We all agreed to use the excuse of training for the cultural festival to our families, but to keep things simple there was no specific time set, which means we won't all be arriving together."

Nel's attention drifted down to their plates during this explanation. Her painted nose wrinkled slightly, as though the assortment of costly fare turned the Hollow general's stomach. Then she brightened. "Oh! That reminds me. Pesche and Dondochakka contacted me a minute ago. They said the important people are starting to come in over at the other wedding party, which means the ceremony's done. They started at the same time, so get ready for the happy couple to arrive any minute now!"

A faint prickle of unease darted down Renji's tattooed spine. "What are those two guys doing there in the first place?"

"They're delivering our gift! And on that note," she then sketched a bow worthy of a champion courtesan, arms out to her sides and the sleeves of her kimono dragging on the floor, "I've got to get going. If I don't make it back before they arrive, be sure to take some pictures when they do! See you later!"

With a meaningful look and a lift of her pale green eyebrows, Neliel departed. Renji stared after her, pondering. Our gift? What was that about? His present was already in its place on the banquet table reserved for such offerings; matching pillows for the happy couple to sleep on. Everybody appreciates a comfortable rest at night, right? You didn't have to blow a year's salary or spend a lot of time to make a good impression when it came to presents. Thought and care mattered too.

Should I be worried?

"Matching outfits."

Renji gave a start. "Huh?"

"My gift." Uryu slurped up some chilled zaru soba noodles before continuing. "Matching outfits for the bride and groom. I've been working on them since I heard about the engagement. It took a tremendous amount of time and effort and I nearly killed myself getting the colors exact, but in the end the results were worth it, in my opinion." Then, in a deceptively casual tone of voice, "What did you get them?"

"Uhhh…" The captain's eyes darted in the direction of the gift table, which was festooned with more priceless artifacts than he had ever laid eyes upon. "Didja see the antique tea set?"

"Which one?"

"That's mine. 'Scuze me."

He then quickly hiked off before Ishida could reply. Renji weaved his way through the crowd, exchanging terse greetings as he sought to make his escape. At the same time, he noticed there were more people here than the last point he checked. They were pretty swanky dressers too, so this must be the official wedding party after all. Lord-Commander Kuchiki and his new bride would probably arrive any minute now, just like Nel predicted. Was Rukia around?

"Such a disappointment, Renji-kun. That bubbly bouncy beauty isn't gone for two minutes, and already you're thinking about another woman."

I know, okay? I don't need you to tell me what a jerk I am.

"Maybe that should be your next tattoo, hmmm? - I AM A FAITHLESS, ROVING-EYED TOAD OF A MAN! - I believe you could squeeze it in right above your pectorals. What do you think?"

Hey, I'm not the only one! Did you hear the way she asked about Ichigo? She's still hung up on him!

"Maybe if you weren't such a louse, poor little Neliel wouldn't have to seek the tender affections of the very fellow whose girlfriend you're keeping an eye out for. Food for thought, young man."

Renji ground his teeth with intense frustration at this inner dialogue. After the business with Urahara's bankai, it hadn't taken Imaginary Ayasegawa long to point out that the entire time he was faced with imminent peril, concern for his still-somewhat-secret girlfriend had never crossed his mind once. The same could not be said for Rukia.

You're the one who brought her up in the first place!

"Is it really necessary to repeat this? I'm part of YOU, Renji-kun. So if I thought it, that's only because your thoughts were on her as well. Don't try to dodge the issue here. Admit it; you're still carrying a torch for her. Not that I can blame you, but still… hardly beauteous behavior befitting a courageous captain of the Seireitei."

So I'm a sore loser. We can't all be perfect paragons of nobility like Byakuya Kuchiki, or Espada Slayers, or topple vasto lorde, or die heroic deaths and not have to deal with the woman we love finding another man!

"Now that's just a cheap shot. I can't help the fact that I loved her more than you."

DAMMIT, YOU –! ZABIMARU, GET IN HERE AND SAY SOMETHING!

As you wish. You are…

… losing your mind, Renji.

Sulking, the besieged debater was just casting about for a quiet corner where he could shovel food into his mouth in peace, when a ringing voice carried above the murmuring din.

"LORDS AND LADIES, HONORED GUESTS, HIS GRACE LORD BYAKUYA KUCHIKI AND GRACIOUS LADY YORUICHI SHIHOIN NOW ENTER AS MAN AND WIFE!"

Shoot! No time for psychological turmoil. The boss man and his lady were here. A quick glance was enough to confirm this. The main doors of the banquet hall had been thrown open, and an open space was now cleared from there to the seats of honor reserved for the happy couple at the other end. Proceeding down this path there came Byakuya and Yoruichi side by side. He hadn't gotten a chance to see them beforehand, but now, witnessing those two high-tier nobles arrayed in splendid wedding clothes, Renji found himself quite thoroughly bedazzled at their combined presence. It was as though they were enveloped in this heavenly aura that was practically visible, pouring off their bodies and lighting up the whole room. It caused every eye to draw to them whether voluntarily or not.

Wow. So that's what it looks like. True love, in the flesh.

I thought this was a political …

… marriage first and foremost?

Well, for Ukitake and Isane, sure, but this… well, I mean, just look at 'em, man! I've never seen Byakuya so happy in my life!

Happy? He's simply…

… frowning a little less.

Yeah. Exactly.

You truly are…

… quite mad, Renji.

Whatever. Take a nap if you can't handle it, I'm going to enjoy this.

As the newlyweds passed his position at the back of the crowd, he finally noticed Rukia trailing behind them. She had on a dynamite kimono that reminded him of her zanpakuto mixed with the color of her eyes. Great look. Did Ishida have a hand in it, I wonder? He took only minor satisfaction in noticing that Ichigo Kurosaki was not accompanying her. Instead walking at Rukia's side there came… wait, wasn't that the kid from Hueco Mundo? The one who works for her in the mortal realm? I think I remember her saying about how he was related to Yoruichi; a cousin or something like that? Guess that explains why he's marching in the royal parade. Good for him.

Renji watched them approach the low table commanding the large part of the back wall. Being taller than most, he had a better view. A large metal statue was erected behind their seats showing a plumed phoenix dancing with a snake-and-tortoise genbu, the two legendary beasts wreathed in flames. Wonder if there's a similar art project over at the Kotetsu wedding banquet, only sporting a dragon and tiger combo? Can't have one wedding overshadow the other, after all.

By this time the heads of both Noble Houses had taken their seats next to one another. Rukia settled in on Byakuya's right, while the Shihoin kid (Noboru, that was his name) sat at Yoruichi's left. Prime arrangements, to be sure. Now the real brouhaha would begin. Waiters in Kuchiki livery had already begun to bring in one mouth-watering course after another, which they proceeded to place before the couple. Others set to presenting the guests with their own fare, even more expensive and sumptuous than what they had been eating until now.

So preoccupied was he by the savory smells and wondering where to start first that Renji failed to notice the preposterously large wedding cake being wheeled down the aisle toward the main table.

His ears did prick up at the subtle shift of conversational susurrus that resulted from its presence. When he did at last spot this fancifully decorated five-story confectionary, it had already been parked right in front of the Lord and Lady of the evening. The first thing he noticed was how fake it looked (and didn't that remind him of things he had overheard in the world of the living?). The second was that the people who deposited this peculiar item were members of his own unit, a couple of the unranked guys from Siamese that sometimes attended on their leaders and also belonged to a certain co-captain's deeply devoted fan club.

The premonition of danger that hit then could not be ignored. Lightning-quick his battlefield instincts were screaming for him to take charge of this situation, and sooner rather than later.

"Rikichi!" Renji barked.

"Here, Abarai-taichou!" His own one-man fan club appeared out of nowhere executing a strict salute, the facial tattoo in honor of his captain and hero somewhat lessened by the bucolic boyishness of his features.

The captain thrust out his mound of purloined food. "Hold my plate! Make sure nobody eats it!"

"Yes, sir!"

Rikichi complied, and then Abarai was off. Slipping stealthily down the outskirts of the crowd, he made his way towards the wedding table without taking his eyes off the menacing cake. Nothing had happened yet. It wasn't too late. If I can just…

At that very moment, music started playing.

Renji froze. So, seemingly, did everyone else.

It wasn't the sort of tune you would expect at the Wedding of Two Great Houses. This particular number had a very… shall we say, mature tempo. This alone would have left the noble guests stunned.

Not three seconds later, Neliel tu Odelschvank burst out of the top of the cake. "SURPRISE!"

Her arms were flung wide, smiling joyously down at the wedded pair and their relatives. So sparkling and happy did Nel look, one could almost discount the fact that she was naked.

Mostly. Her hair was unbound, Hollow helm on display for all to see. As for the rest of her breathtakingly bountiful body, the only concession to dress came in the form of a two-piece bikini made entirely out of… whipped cream. A set of glittering turquoise tassels capped the tips of those succulent pumpkin-sized breasts. And that was all. The rest was on display for everyone's imagination to fall alarmingly short of.

Shocked, no one in the room moved as the two Siamese boys reached up to take an arm each, lift Neliel out of the cake and down to the floor. She bounced a little, the sweet fluffy white mounds jiggling oh so tantalizingly. Upon finding her feet, the attendants disappeared offstage.

"Lord Kuchiki, Lady Shihoin, on behalf of myself, Captain Abarai, and everyone in Siamese Squad, allow me to congratulate you both!" their unexpected floorshow sang. "We wish you many years of happiness! Kanpai!"

Nel then produced a party favor from somewhere and popped it, shooting confetti all over the people in front of her. The crowd could only stare.

Rukia made no move, though her eyes had gone very big.

Noboru also did not react. He seemed far too busy trying to take in everything before him, apparently finding it hard to decide where to look first.

Yoruichi's mouth hung open in the biggest, happiest smile imaginable, so much that she actually got some confetti inside it. Her golden eyes closed, and with a delighted screech she turned and buried her face in Byakuya's arm, grasping handfuls of his kimono and shaking like a reflection of the moon in agitated water.

Without a change in pallor or even the lifting of one impeccably trimmed eyebrow, Byakuya Kuchiki raised his arm and snapped his fingers so loud it was like a thunderclap.

At once, two stone-faced Kuchiki retainers appeared and grasped hold of Neliel's upper arms, whereupon they proceeded to lift her bodily off the floor and hustled the surprised entertainer over towards a pair of doors that slid open.

"Hey!" Neliel yelped, glancing between her unsmiling supports. "What's going on? I didn't even get to the song! Are you ready? 'Happy Birthday, Mr. President! Happy birthday to y–!"

Noboru looked about to spring in pursuit, when without even looking Yoruichi reached back and snagged him by the collar. "Aw, c'mon, it'd be a shame to let all that whipped cream go to waste!" he protested in vain.

At this point Hitsugaya Tōshirō of all people ran up carrying a white tablecloth that he had apparently gotten ahold of somewhere. The boy-captain's face was beet-red, yet he still managed to spread out the sheet so as to cut off anyone from getting a clear look at Neliel's exposed form. Resolutely the valiant young shinigami kept up this defense of his colleague's dignity until they made it out the doors, which promptly shut behind them.

Somebody had turned off the recorded music. In the deathly silence that followed, the only sound came from Yoruichi Shihoin's gasps of hysterical laughter.

Meanwhile, Renji Abarai's keen tactical mind was already working on a means of escape.

No one's spotted me yet. I'm at the edge of the crowd, everybody's preoccupied looking towards the front. I'll get away. Yes, I'll get away, and they'll never catch me! Then I will seek out every member of Siamese Company who told Neliel about weddings or bachelor parties or the like, and I shall kill them in ways that were deemed too cruel even by Hollow standards! But first, Renji must flee before his presence is detected. Yes, flee, Renji, flee to plot your Grand Guignol-level revenge!

Abarai Renji turned to make his getaway, ducking down low so as not to draw any attention, and in so doing, found himself on eye level with Nanao Ise.

The scream that followed would have turned every head, save for the fact that it happened while he was inhaling instead of exhaling, rendering what would have been the sound of bone-deep terror no more than the frightened squeak of a chipmunk. Not a single person bothered to notice his predicament, for at that very moment, everything erupted in clamor. People started shouting, demanding explanations, or just plain gossiped, the result being that his predicament earned no attention.

Standing before him, hair done up neatly and holding a clipboard, the former lieutenant slipped off her glasses, folded them together and tucked them securely inside her kimono.

Upon seeing this, Renji jerked upright, already launching into an explanation. "NANAO-SAN! IT WASN'T ME! IT WASN'T ME THIS TIME, NANAO-SAN! I DIDN'T DO IT! PLEASE BELIEVE ME, IT WASN'T–!"

Between one shriek and the next, she brought a fist to her lips, kissed it, then hauled off and delivered a haymaker directly into Abarai's gut.

Amplified by kidō, the punch knocked the wind right out of him. Renji uttered one long drawn-out inhuman croak. His knees went limp as noodles, but before he could hit the floor, Nanao had already caught him by the front of his shirt, holding him to dangle like a jellyfish out of water. She then raised her other arm back, still holding the clipboard, and without further ado…

WHAP!

Renji's head snapped violently to one side. WHAP! A backhand blow sent him spinning in the other direction. What then followed was a steady rhythm of cold, methodical, remorseless bitch-slapping.

WHAP-WHAP-WHAP! WHAP-WHAP-WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP-WHAP-WHAP! WHAP-WHAP-WHAP! WHAP-WHAP-WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP-WHAP-WHAP!

The pain of facing Benihime was nothing compared to this. And it showed no signs of stopping. Before long, Renji's whole world had shrunk down to the unrelenting torment being applied to him by the practiced palm of someone long used to doling out punishment upon shinigami captains much bigger and stronger than him.

WHAP-WHAP-WHAP! WHAP-WHAP-WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP-WHAP-WHAP!

"I beg your pardon, Ise-san…"

The hand of retribution paused. Still holding his unresisting body off the ground, Nanao looked over to find Soifon standing by her elbow.

"Yes, Captain?"

The assassin queen lifted her chin slightly, lips pursed in a business-like frown. "Forgive me for the interruption. I simply wished to offer my services in case your arm was growing tired," she spoke in calm, reasonable tones.

"That is very thoughtful of you, Soifon-taichou," Nanao responded back in no less calm, reasonable tones. She took a step off to one side and indicated with her free hand. "Please, be my guest."

"You are most kind." When Nanao held out the clipboard, Soifon politely waved it off, as if to say there was no need. The iron-muscled death-dealer took a firm hold of Renji's robe, upon which the other woman let go. He managed to gurgle just a little through puffy lips, and then…

WHAP-WHAP-WHAP! WHAP-WHAP-WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP-WHAP-WHAP! WHAP-WHAP-WHAP! WHAP-WHAP-WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP-WHAP-WHAP!

"I'm not disturbing you, am I?" Rukia Kuchiki asked as she approached.

A faint spark of hope dawned in her old friend's pain-fuzzy brain. Rukia! She's here to save me!

Bull…

… shit.

"I simply wished to inquire," the poised and proper princess asked, "whether I might be of service in this case."

For once, Soifon betrayed no hostility towards her. She simply glided aside so Rukia could take her place. Getting a solid hold of his robe, the dainty death god proceeded to hoist the big fighter in midair and…

WHAP-WHAP-WHAP! WHAP-WHAP-WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP-WHAP-WHAP!

As the rest of the party did its best to make whatever sense of the preceding events they could, the trio of ladies took turns impressing upon Renji the repercussions of bad behavior and loose morals regarding naive young women.

At Byakuya's unspoken command, none of the staff made any move to stop them.

---

"Don't stop now, little Gypsy boy," the white-robed phantom Gehrin hissed as he hung in the air, spinning his scythe round and round one hand. "Yer almost the-e-e-rrre!"

Bound hand and foot by the demon's sorcery, Inglebert panted heavily, sweat dripping off his face as he stared at the glowing characters before him. His name; guess the demon's name, and he'd win, like the old woman outside Berkenstradt had warned. It hadn't made any sense at the time, but now with Gehrin's challenge set to cost him his life, his only hope was to use his head.

Got to put those strange symbols together. Row… no, LO-! Then han… fen… HEN-! And lastly…

"G… Grrri…"

He could see the devil's lips stretched across his face below the concealing cowl, the only part of his face that was visible, mocking the whole world with his sick twisted…

Like a shot of lightning across his brain, the answer came to him.

"LOHENGRIN!" he screamed at the top of his lungs.

The scythe blade stopped a hair's-breadth short of taking off his head.

"Well, well. Not so dumb after all, huh?" When Inglebert looked up, only that eerie smile hung once more in empty air. "Bye-bye!" it sang merrily, and disappeared.

Michiru Ohgawa left off writing. She didn't want to do too much, partly because she was worried that anything written here in Soul Society might not survive upon returning home. Who knows how spiritual transference worked on electronic devices, anyway?

After safely stowing her phone away the visiting mortal turned her attention back to the unusual event she found herself in. This was the first wedding Michiru had gone to since she was a little girl. Well, post-wedding party, to be precise. It felt a bit uncomfortable, being amongst all these adults dressed in fine clothes, hardly any of them she knew, all of whom were technically not alive. None of them took much notice of her, for which she was grateful. Upon arrival in Soul Society, the human girl had been led here by attendants of the Kuchiki clan. As had been explained beforehand, she would not be attending the actual wedding, but instead was a guest of the clans to celebrate the aftermath of their nuptials. Michiru had to admit she was a tad disappointed there would be no chance to view Lord Kuchiki and Lady Yoruichi actually become man and wife. Nowadays in Japan many people opted for Western-style weddings that demanded guests in attendance. Guess there was no reason to wonder if her camera might work here.

Passing unnoticed through the crowd of aloof noble-folk, Ohgawa took note of a few familiar faces. She felt pretty certain that was Kurosaki-sensei's assistant Nanao over by the bar. Hard to be sure, since the woman in question was belting back saké cups like there was no tomorrow, not to mention she looked mad as hell. No way am I getting any closer to find out. Shiba Ganju from the Usagi Shoten was marching stiffly beside his sister Kukaku, looking like he would rather be anywhere else. The one-armed woman moved boldly through the press though it seemed as if most people were avoiding her. Michiru also caught sight of Noboru, Rukia's ward (and she suspected her nephew as well). He was chatting excitedly with a very large man who had the head of… well, a dog. Not the most bizarre thing she had ever laid eyes upon, but very close. The craziness of the situation was somewhat alleviated by how adorably perplexed the canine giant managed to look, as though he found it odd to have someone be paying him this much attention. Noboru was clearly the one doing all the talking. He looked positively thrilled at his new find. At least someone was having a good time.

It was then she spotted Ishida Uryu.

Michiru's breath caught in her throat. She gazed at her schoolmate, decked out in a spellbinding white suit that had to have been tailor-made. The modern raiment made him flash like a beam of sunshine through the darkness in these surroundings. Despite this, he looked surprisingly relaxed. Ishida was talking with two men wearing what she had come to learn was the uniform of the Kuchiki. They seemed very pleased to see him, almost like old friends meeting after a long time apart. That's odd. Weren't Quincy not supposed to get along with shinigami? Yet the two guardsmen clasped the white-clad bowman by the hand in friendly fashion, which he returned without a trace of reservation before they departed to resume their duties.

Strange to see Uryu of all people behaving so openly sociable. Even with their classmates back home, he maintained a wall of cool reserve that left few people inclined to even speak to him. He wore a smile now, though, such that Michiru couldn't take her eyes off him.

Maybe this is it. My big chance! I know I decided to wait until after the festival, but just look at him. He seems… happy. Who can say how long it'll last? I just need to walk over there and…

Ishida turned suddenly in her direction, and immediately Michiru ducked down, slipping between two astonished guests to keep out of sight.

No, I'm not chickening out. Okay, maybe a little. But come to think of it, this really isn't the time or place. I mean, what if I talk to him, and it creates a big scene right there in the middle of Byakuya-sama's big day? We might both get kicked out then.

Rationalizing was all well and good. It didn't make her feel any less of a coward.

After getting out of the crowd, Michiru was rather surprised to spot Ichigo Kurosaki and Kaizou Konpakku, who were sitting on fold-out chairs pushed against the wall well away from the festivities like a pair of naughty children. Both of them wore the exact same extremely disgruntled expression, arms crossed over their chests and one heel tapping in unison. Neither paid her any attention. They were carrying on a conversation of sorts, although anyone listening in might have wondered if the two men were even tangentially aware of each other.

"I can't believe that bastard Renji," Ichigo hissed with his eyes fixed straight ahead. "Who does he think he is, tricking Nel-chan into doing something like that?! I oughtta kick his ass!"

"He probably helped her with the whipped cream, too," Kon growled back without turning his head. "Damn, I envy him!"

"Shut up, Kon."

"You shut up."

"And what about that brat Tōshirō, huh?" Ichigo continued. "Who does he think he is, leaving with her like we're supposed to believe he's too young to try anything?! Little punk's probably using the opportunity to sneak a peek right now! I oughtta kick his ass!"

Kon snorted. "She could be taking a sponge bath this very second with only a paper screen between them, standing up in the tub, soapy water dripping down her body, and he can see her silhouette clear as day! Damn, I envy him!"

"Shut up, Kon."

"You shut up."

Michiru had no clue what they were talking about. She also doubted there was much point in trying to engage them in conversation. Glumly the girl made her way off by her lonesome where she sulked, a bit put out.

From here she could see the happy couple themselves. They were down at the other end of the hall, where various people were presumably seeking to pay their respects. You couldn't tell by looking at him that Byakuya just got married. If anything, he looked even more severe than usual, which still in no way made him anything less than perfectly gorgeous. Yoruichi appeared radiant by comparison. The exotic bombshell's image almost rippled like heat haze in the desert. This alluring combination of hot and cold could have persuaded her to approach them to tender her own warm wishes, except Michiru doubted she'd be able to get a single word out if confronted by that much beauty at one time. She had to settle for her plate of food, which while admittedly delicious, did nothing to diminish her insecurities.

What a drag. I bet everybody else is having a better time than me.

"Pray excuse me, imouto-chan, but might you be Michiru Ohgawa?"

Surprised at finding herself addressed, the timid wallflower turned to find a bent old man with white hair and a long moustache standing at her elbow.

"Yes?" she responded a little uncertainly.

In return he gave a bob of his head that might have passed for a bow (to someone who suffered from terminally low self-esteem). "I have been tasked by Kuchiki-sama to pass along his best wishes, along with the hopes that you will enjoy his hospitality on this blessed day."

Byakuya actually noticed me enough to send a servant? Wow. "Well… thank you. I will," she responded, wondering if this was a prelude to something more.

"Very good." The old man took a small step forward, and Michiru felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise inexplicably. "His Lordship also instructed me to inform you that should anything resembling the incident with Captain Odelschvank appear in your little pillow book, he will be most… displeased."

Giving another little head bob, the elderly seneschal turned and shuffled off without another word.

Michiru watched him go, mouth hanging open slightly. Did he just…?

The implications of that last statement hit. Wait… Byakuya knows about my novel? Does that mean he's read it? I wonder if he liked it.

Wait a second. If he really read it, then he must have figured out who the characters were based on. And that means…

Uh-oh.

Agog at the implications, her head whipped around to stare at their host again. As though sensing this, Byakuya's regal profile turned to regard her ever so briefly, his eyes narrowed in the sexiest unspoken death threat she had ever seen.

The blood rushed to her face, only to drain away a moment later, leaving her bone white. Ohgawa's body began to shake. Quickly she spun about and tottered on trembling legs away from that fearsome visage.

Oh, dear. I think… I think this calls for a rewrite of the ending I had planned. Thank heaven I always had a backup finale in mind. It might not be what the fans are hoping for, but if they knew my life was on the line, I think they'd understand! Sometimes an author just has to bow to public pressure, right?

Absorbed in her frantic internal editing, Michiru walked right on by Ichigo and Kon still holding the same argument.

"To say nothing of Byakuya," Kurosaki groused to no one in particular. "Who does he think he is, forbidding me from talking to Rukia like I had anything to do with Nel popping out of that cake?! I just got here! How the hell was I supposed to know that was going to happen? I so oughtta kick his ass!"

"Yeah, look at him, sitting there with his hot wife so cool and classy. Betcha he's thinking about all the wild crazy sex they're gonna be having later! Like in a big pile of money or a lake of wine and a meat forest and all kinds of sexy concubines for both of them! DAMN, I envy him!"

"Shut up, Kon!"

"You shut up!"

"Morons," Ishida Uryu declared in a casual tone of voice as he traipsed by them with a loaded plate of food.

---

Is there any chance I'm going to get abducted again, I wonder?

"Don't worry, Tatsuki-chan," Orihime trilled beside her. "I doubt we'll be kidnapped this time."

"If you say so." Tatsuki Arisawa's eyes continued to dart from side to side as they moved through the Senkaimon passageway. Wearing formal clothes like the kimono she had on now always tended to leave her a bit uncomfortable. Social custom being strong in Japan, there were thankfully few times she was called upon to do so. But a wedding was at the top of the list. And even if he was technically off the market (and dead, lest we forget), Tatsuki felt she should dutifully represent the Aizawa family to one of the most important people in the afterlife.

Her gift for the newlyweds came in the form of a bound scroll tucked under her arm with the kanji for kanzen shugi written upon it. After giving it some thought, Tatsuki had decided the term denoting 'beauty from total perfection' suited this couple perfectly. She had asked her mother, who practiced calligraphy, to make this artwork, telling her only that it was intended for Rukia's older brother. Having been somewhat star-struck for a whole day after meeting him, her mother did not question why she would ask for such a thing. Though her Dad appeared suspicious as to why his daughter might be giving a near-total stranger gifts. Not that she had any lingering designs on Byakuya Kuchiki, of course. But a noble could take concubines, right? This half-joke earned a nervous chuckle.

Although he does have a son…

Their forward progress halted as Tatsuki slapped her face a few times to drive away any unclean thoughts. Uphold the family honor, Tatsuki! The pride of the Aizawa dojo is resting on your shoulders!

The hell butterfly leading the way bobbed somewhat curiously around before continuing its flight. Orihime looked much more comfortable in her attire, a checkerboard pattern of pink and white that really managed to set off her features. Her hair was done up at the back in a clasp and she seemed even more eager than usual. That's good. At least one of us should be carefree in this life. Or death. Geez, I miss the simpler days!

She had fed Ulquiorra beforehand because the thought of him waiting for her would have definitely tainted any enjoyment. Tatsuki was the sort of girl who preferred to eat her vegetables first before diving into the main course. Which meant the rest of the day could be reserved for relatively harmless activities. This wedding actually served to improve her view of the afterlife. Up 'til now, Soul Society had impressed itself upon her as a military fortification populated by shinigami soldiers at war constantly. The idea that two people could meet and fall in love despite being dead made her somewhat less adverse to dying.

Before them the exit from this pseudo-reality was drawing closer in the form of a glowing set of shoji doors. At the butterfly's approach the portal slid open to either side, allowing blazing light to pour through. Even looking directly at it, Tatsuki found this incandescence to be quite pleasant. Almost welcoming.

Oh, well. Gotta make the most of it while we can.

"Okay, here we go!" Orihime took her hand and rushed forward, drawing the anxious martial artist behind her. With that Tatsuki Arisawa came out into Soul Society.

---

Breathing fitfully, Makizō Aramaki braced himself for another grueling round. His opponent stood before him at the center of a ring of Tiger bravos shouting exhortations and urging them to battle once more. The amount of saké he had consumed meant Makizō would not back down to anything short of Captain Zaraki himself, and then only in full shikai. Heady with alcohol and unrestrained by any paltry insecurities, he brought his arm up at the same time as his foe, and the two combatants let fly their attacks once more.

"JAN-KEN-PON!"

Yay! We win!

No. Tied again.

Sure enough, they had both chosen 'rock'. A mighty roar went up from the drunken berserkers overseeing this legendary match. With clenched fists hovering before one another, Aramaki grinned hugely. "You play a mean game o' janken, ya faceless bastard!"

The demon Jigoku gave no further response than to lift the wine jug in his free hand and take a long pull on it. He then wiped his chin and brought his arm up to shoulder height again in preparation for the next round.

The Moustache King approved of this determination. They had been competing for 40 straight matches with no winner between them. If this went on much longer, it would set a new record. And when that happened, he would make sure to be on top. "Jan… ken…!"

Hah! He'll never expect me to choose rock thirty-two times in a row! This time I've got him!

You're so smart! Go get 'im, Makizō!

Hell yeah!

And he let fly.

"… PON!"

The crowd drew breath to shout… and held it.

Makizō blinked. He had made his brilliant move, of course. Only problem was, Jigoku hadn't reciprocated. His unmoving fist was still held on high. Instead the demon's blank head had turned to one side, staring fixedly at a point off into space, cloth crown askew. The audience members looked between one another in confusion.

Does that mean we win?

While pondering this weighty question, before their eyes, Jigoku simply folded in on himself like a piece of paper. A moment later the emissary of Hell was gone.

I think it does, Inu no Muri.

"VICTORY!" he howled, thrusting his winning move into the air. His fellows in Tiger Company cheered lustily, while elsewhere, a trusted member of the Kotetsu household was frantically transmitting a message to several hell butterflies.

---

Tatsuki had enough time to look around for a few seconds upon entering Soul Society. She took a step forward, and almost ran right into the man in white who was suddenly standing before her.

"W-E I-S T-E E-E?"

The sound of his voice hit like a brace of icy water, leaving Tatsuki unable to draw in air. Her muscles turned to mud, sending her crumpling earthward, lacking the strength to stay afoot. She stared up at the creature in a white suit and top hat, its face covered by a cloth with the word 'demon' written upon it. God help me, what is that?!

"W-E I-S T-E E-E?! W-E I-S T-E E-E?!"

Tatsuki finally drew in enough air to scream, and did so. Filled with terror, more so than when she had been faced with Ichigo's Hollow, the traumatized girl could do nothing but shriek as this unspeakable monster reached for her.

"SHITEN SAIGOSHUN! I REJECT!"

An orange cube sprang up around the demon. It turned its head to look at Orihime standing only a pace off, mouth set in a fierce line and eyes flung wide with rage.

Orihime? What are you…?

Within the glowing box, the thing's hands began to dissolve.

It looked down at them, then back to Orihime, whereupon… it grew.

One moment the demon stood taller than a man. Then in an eye-blink its head reached the sky. White turned to black, the body now made of tarnished barbed wire or twisted creeper vines. And within that shell there burned tens of thousands of wailing people, bodies engulfed in merciless flames that consumed them. Their screams were individually audible, to the point where Tatsuki feared going mad. Orihime's magic barrier was a child's toy at this titan's feet. It stared down at them, eyes two blazing cauldrons, mouth a wide-open pit of fire. Where once there had been a world with people around them now there was only red of a color so hideous it made her want to tear her skin off. The sound of its voice filled this empty scarlet nightmare.

"BURN."

Orihime's barrier shattered as she flew backwards with a cry of despair. Once again the demon's hands came for them as Tatsuki sat there helpless.

Before they could reach her, great black wings snapped out to either side of Arisawa. Midnight arms with curved talons wrapped around her chest. Limply Tatsuki surrendered into this embrace without question. Then a pit opened up at her feet, and she was falling into it.

Orihime looked up from her position sprawled on the flagstones. The sun was shining warmly down. Around her several shinigami and people wearing colored uniforms were doing the same. Back in front of the gate, the creature that had attacked them now once again had resumed its previous size and pristine formal wear. It stood with hand outstretched for a moment. Then without so much as looking at them, the demon shrank and disappeared.

For a while all she could do was lie there quivering. At last Orihime levered herself up to a sitting position. She peered about as something dawned on her.

"Tatsuki-chan?"

---

Next thing she knew Tatsuki was tumbling out onto warm grass and sunshine. That previous immobility had vanished, and with a shout she leapt wildly to her feet, casting about for some explanation for what the hell just happened!

"Okay, what the HELL just happ–!"

An answer presented itself when she turned to find Ulquiorra Schiffer standing at her back.

"Son of a bitch," Arisawa swore.

The sight of him served to grant her the white-hot clarity of outrage. No longer did he resemble a charred arson victim. Now he looked much as he had the first time she went to Soul Society. The skin of his chest was white around his Hollow hole, arms running to black from elbows to fingertips. Dark furred legs sported a tail which waved restlessly from side to side, and enormous bat pinions were folded up behind him. Horns grew from his untamed hair while cold green eyes with pitch-black sclera stared at her disinterestedly.

"I knew you were holding out on me, you piece of shit," Tatsuki declared, crossing her arms to inspect his form. Ulquiorra declined to respond. If he felt any distress at her seeing him without a stitch of clothing on, he hid it well. Of course, mere embarrassment was the least of the issues that stood between them. Upon gaining her bearings, the martial artist finally noticed their surroundings. By the look of it, they had come out in the cemetery not far from where she had first found Ulquiorra hiding. Such memories then served to bring back what had just taken place. Feeling somewhat weak-kneed at the thought again, she strove to overcome it, fisting her hands into her eyes angrily. When finished, Tatsuki looked up with a cross red-rimmed glare at her apparent savior.

"What just happened?"

"You were attacked," Ulquiorra finally spoke. "I moved to ensure your safety."

"From what?!" she bit back. "What in God's name was that thing?!"

The horned archfiend gave a tilt of his head. "I do not know. It is unlike anything I have ever known. Since I could not determine if it was possible to defeat this enemy, I removed you from danger instead."

Her pulse was starting to settle down, allowing Tatsuki to ask the next question in a softer voice. "How did you know?"

In response he lifted a finger and pointed at her. "You contain a part of me within you. As such I am able to move to your location at any time. From there I opened a Garganta to bring you back here." He flicked one slit-pupiled eye about before continuing. "It would appear the entity has not followed us. I would advise you refrain from entering Soul Society at this time. You may open yourself up to further assault. Regardless, I will be watching you."

So saying, he began to sink down into the ground. About to make a move to stop him, Tatsuki paused when the phone in her breast pocket started to ring. She hesitated, caught between what to do, before finally bringing out the device. Her dark eyes turned meaningfully upon the vanishing Hollow. "You've got some explaining to do, you bastard," she rasped.

Ulquiorra didn't bother to look at her before he dropped from sight. Tatsuki kicked some dirt at him spitefully before answering the phone.

"Hello?"

"TATSUKI-CHAN!" Orihime's shout caused her to flinch and hold the device at arm's length. "You're alive! Where are you?!"

"Uhh…" She peered about. "Like, maybe a twenty-minute jog from Ichigo's place?" Something occurred to her. "Hey, are you calling me from Soul Society?"

"No, I… just got through the gate." Her friend's voice had become uncertain. "Are you… okay? You're not hurt, are you?"

"Just my pride. I think I got knocked back through the portal and it spit me out here. So what happened anyway?"

"I don't know. That thing came out of nowhere, and then you were gone, and nobody seemed to know where, so I came back here with some of the shinigami and Kuchiki people and now… well, I guess… everything's fine?"

Even Orihime didn't sound like she believed that, but Tatsuki was in no position to argue. "Whatever happened, I think it's over. Listen, Orihime, do me a favor, alright? I want you to go back to Soul Society with those shinigami. They'll keep you safe, I'm sure of it. And make sure to tell them what went down in case it's important."

"Eh? But what about you? What makes you think it wasn't after you?"

She snorted. "Please. Like I'm that important. You'll give me a swelled head, Orihime. Just go on back to the party. I'm heading home. Think I've had enough excitement for one day."

"Okay… if you're sure. I'll call you the second I get back, alright? Promise me you'll stay safe!"

Safe? I've only got the spawn of a couple Hollow overlords brewing in my gut and I'm suddenly being targeted by the Devil himself. Why wouldn't I be safe? Aloud she simply said, "Thanks, Orihime. Hey, I think I left my gift back there. Make sure you get it to Kuchiki-sama, 'kay? Bye."

"Bye!"

The call ended. Standing in the midday sun, Arisawa stretched out her arms to heaven, feeling every joint pop and muscle bunch in blessed relief. She came back down with a sigh, swinging her limbs briskly.

I could call the boys and see if there are any other delinquents we can beat on. But maybe I really should just head home. Less drama all around. Yeah. That sounds like a plan. Simple, uncomplicated, normal life. With occasional butt-kicking thrown in. Just the way I like it.

---

'So where's Jigoku now?'

'Back where it first appeared at the Gates of Hell. Apparently he's reverted to his original mission. Some of our guards are still there, and they're keeping an eye on him.'

'Better than nothing, I guess. Are we any closer to making progress?'

'I'm entertaining several promising options at the moment. I'll let you know if they bear fruit.'

'Like I don't know when you're hedging. Listen, I have to get back to schmoozing, but keep me informed if anything else goes wrong.'

'You can count on it, dear lady. Give that handsome husband of yours a kiss for me!'

'Kiss my ass, Kisuke.'

'Love you too.'

With their communication ended, Kisuke Urahara slumped back in his chair. He stared up at the ceiling, trying to ignore the burning stiffness in his neck and fog about his brain. Half-hearted and half-assed though it might have been, his unsuccessful attempt to deflect Yoruichi's suspicions rankled him. The only thing that made failure worse was people knowing about it. He could take the disappointment of strangers. But when it was someone you really cared for…

The head of Ibis turned back to his readouts. On another floor of the research center, the living stone stalactite remained unmoving. No change to report in Mayuri Kurotsuchi's condition at all. Despite his best efforts and in some cases even his worst, that made 41 consecutive disproven theories as to how his old nemesis might be brought out of stasis. The last one didn't count, as he had finally resorted to just kicking the damn thing and got only a very painful limp for his troubles.

I am officially out of ideas at the moment. Perhaps I should seek an outside perspective?

"Oh, Miss Nemu, could you…?"

Kisuke stopped short when he found a black binder held in front of his nose.

He looked up to where Nemu Kurotsuchi stood beside him. "What's this, then?"

"Mayuri-sama's Black Files," she replied back.

He absorbed this information without moving. Then, "Say what?"

She continued to proffer the folder. After a while, Urahara reached out to accept it. A suspicion that it might blow up in his hand proved false. With careful deliberation he unwound the string securing it closed and laid the contents down on his desk. For a while the unshaven academic dwelt upon the information stored therein. He leafed through a few pages, raising his eyebrows at what he found. Then at last he left off and turned his attention to an even greater mystery.

"So you had them the whole time, then, Lieutenant?" he probed lightly, grey eyes half-lidded and face set in a neutral cast.

"Yes," Nemu nodded. "However I did not have permission to access them."

"What changed?" He sounded more curious than furious. Even after having spent a good portion of his precious time on this matter, the final results were not always as valuable as what was learned in the attempts. As a lifelong man of science, he did not discount the benefit of fresh learning.

"Mayuri-sama left safeguards within me in case of his incapacitation or incarceration. While some of them were able to be bypassed at my discretion, in this matter, there was a very specific constraint that had to be unlocked before I could open the Black Files. Namely, you had to fail."

"I beg your pardon?"

"In order to be granted access to the research contained herein," she indicated the wealth of scientific material laid out before them, "you, Kisuke Urahara, had to be unsuccessful in your own efforts a set number of times. In this case, that meant failing to resuscitate Mayuri-sama. Once that hurdle was cleared, it was left up to me whether the situation warranted exposing this knowledge to the public. Considering the incident with Jigoku today, I deemed it sufficient to warrant a full disclosure."

Curiosity compelled him to ask. "So how many times did your father insist that I taste bitter defeat exactly?"

She blinked slowly in the manner of a lizard. "Forty-three."

He thought quickly. "But we've only made 41 attempts."

"I chose to include the method you utilized to bring back Mayuri-sama prior to the Jigoku affair."

"Okay. Still… that was only once," Kisuke pointed out.

"I also counted the kick, since it caused you pain."

For some reason that made him glower. "Anything else I should know, Miss Kurotsuchi?"

"I recorded all your efforts and made them into a video for Mayuri-sama to watch later. With a laugh track."

"Of course you did." He then got back to reading the infamous Black Files. Nice as it was to have success to report to Yoruichi as a sort of unexpected wedding gift, he could have asked for it to happen in a way less abusive to his still-tender ego.

Something caught his eye. Leaning closer, Urahara let out a low whistle.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I think we have a winner."

---

"That was a very memorable day, I must say, Jushirō-san."

Hanging up his robe on a peg, Ukitake came about with a smile to regard his new bride. Isane Kotetsu was sitting on the bed already, legs tucked beneath her and leaning on one arm. She was wearing only her under-robe, and the sight of her enticing curvature on display as a result left him feeling eager. And, to be honest, nervous. To cover this, he started talking.

"Yes, indeed. We're very fortunate Lord Arashi mistook those two Hollows bursting out of the cake as clowns hired for our amusement."

Isane held a hand to her lips and giggled, cheeks flushed at the memory. "If poor Pesche hadn't sneezed and coated them both with that slippery substance of his, I doubt they would have survived."

The memory of those two half-naked Hollows in bowties and leather pants yelling and smacking into each other while sliding around the floor was a sight he'd not soon forget. The 'performance' ended when both clowns head-butted each other hard enough to pass out. Katsuro Arashi had clearly not found their antics funny, but Jushirō's amazed laughter served to convince him, and thereby the other guests, that this was some form of unusual comedy routine, no doubt cooked up by Kyoraku Shunsui and Isane's notably irreverent sister. Kiyone had been far too drunk by that point to set the record straight, and her Big Sis had quietly arranged for the unconscious pair of Hollows to be given private quarters in the house to recuperate.

Now, however, all the guests had gone to bed. There remained only one thing left to cap off their wedding night. It was hard to say which of them felt more nervous at this stage. They had certainly grown more at ease with each other the past few months. But that was a far cry from what was expected of them next. The topic had not been broached up to this point, perhaps to spare any awkwardness once the time came. Whether either of them wished it had been different was moot, at any rate.

Wearing a pale lavender evening robe, the white-haired icon crossed to the other side of the bed and sat down upon it. With utmost care he then crawled over to sit beside her. Isane's head dipped down at his approach. She had removed the beaded hairpieces that were the sign of her family's prestige, allowing silver hair to fall free to the small of her back. Ukitake found himself seized by the impulse to reach out and caress those gleaming locks, so much longer than her usual short curls. He did so, but only briefly, sliding his hand down her arm to gently entwine their fingers together. She squeezed, and Jushirō could feel the strength in those fingers, power that once he could have easily matched but now posed a serious peril to him.

But Isane Kotetsu had spent over a thousand years tending to others' bodies. She knew how to handle herself. This realization only served to increase his ardor. Feeling more daring, he bent down and kissed her throat right above the shoulder where the smooth skin was exposed by her robe. Isane's head came up sharply, and she delivered a deep moan. It told him much. For longer than perhaps anyone else in Soul Society, these two people had kept themselves apart from others. In her case, it was owing to Isane's standing as the head of House Kotetsu. For him, forced chastity derived from a lifelong status as shinigami extraordinaire, a shining exemplar of what all lesser warriors in their order should revere and aspire to be. Neither of them had derived much pleasure from those roles; most certainly not in the intimate sense. Yet here at last, they could do for one another what no one else had been permitted to before.

Jushirō slid his arms around Isane's waist and buried his face against her shoulder, feeling her warmth pressing back. The arousal this simple gesture produced in him was shockingly strong. It grew even more so when she laid her own hands over his, bending her neck to nuzzle against his silken hair. He reached down to brush her robe away, exposing one long sculpted leg which he caressed all down its length. She shuddered in response, making his pulse quicken. Truth be told, he had always been a leg man, and Isane's were so deliciously long. Jushirō's whole body felt flushed, from the tips of his ears all the way down to his toes. That was enough foreplay, wasn't it? They could begin in earnest. He grasped the front of her gown in preparation to remove it.

Only then did he realize his wife was crying.

"Isane?" he asked, drawing away. As soon as she did the tall noblewoman spun about and pressed her face into his chest, fingers spasmodically clutching his robe as she sobbed. His fiery passion was extinguished just like that, and he took her in his arms, holding on tenderly in an effort to soothe her grief, whatever its reason. Holding a crying woman like this; how many times had he wanted to do just that, layer upon layer of compassion and guilt building up in his soul over centuries, compounded by the loving and eager young people who worshipped him as though he were a god, and especially by the sight of a terrifying woman lying bleeding on the ground so very often, battered but never broken, as he had learned to his sorrow. All this, leading up to one overwhelming and unforeseen moment…

Fighting against the memories, Ukitake sought to find the right words to make her tears stop. "Isane… we needn't do anything else tonight. You have done… more than enough for so very long. Whatever you desire, I'll be right here. And when you wake tomorrow, that won't have changed."

Truthfully he wanted to do so much more, show her how pain could be eased through pleasure, even if only for one night. After a time, though, her sobs diminished. Without looking up Isane pushed him down upon the bed until they lay against one another, her cradled in his arms. Like this, in love but not yet lovers, they allowed time to pass as sweet sleep approached to claim them. Jushirō used this opportunity to think about his name. From here on, he would be Lord of the Kotetsu, which necessitated he change his name to reflect that. Jushirō Kotetsu. Sounded quite nice in his head, really. Now what to do about…?

The sound of racing feet, and then the doors of their boudoir slammed open. "NEE-SAN, BIG NEWS, IT'S… AAAAHHH! FORGIVE ME, NII-SAMA!"

Well, that almost made for a very touching first night together. Shaking his head ruefully but smiling all the same, Ukitake slid upright with a perplexed Isane right beside him. "Yes, Kiyone-neechan, what can we do for you?"

Kiyone Kotetsu stood with her back presented resolutely to them. "Nee-san… nii-sama… we've received word from Captain Urahara concerning our… uninvited guest."

---

The rulers of Three Great Houses and their better halves stood on an unremarkable stretch of greensward in the abandoned ruins of the Rukongai well after midnight. In some cases dressed only in their nightclothes, they observed by torchlight from a safe distance as Nemu Kurotsuchi spoke in rapid-fire language to the looming Jigoku, who responded in kind.

"So is this in any way related to the incident with the mortal girls earlier today?" Jushirō asked while holding Isane's hand for reassurance.

"Not insofar as we can determine," Yoruichi threw back. Byakuya stood behind her with hands resting lightly on her muscular shoulders. They both seemed just a touch disheveled. The question of what the newly wedded couple might have been involved in when they received the news had not come up. "Nobody was hurt that we can gather, just scared silly in a few cases. It might have been the natural result of giving Jigoku too much to drink."

This assessment did little to satisfy the misgivings of those present. To forestall any further speculation, Byakuya turned his attention to the only other person here. "Tell us precisely what you have unearthed, Urahara-taichou."

Still wearing his captain's robes and looking as though he had missed quite a bit of sleep lately, Kisuke drew in a breath and let it out. "Well, it goes like this…

"Apparently while doing forbidden research into Hueco Mundo, my dear chum Mayuri came across something in his studies that indicated a link to the Hell dimension. Upon following it, he discovered a sort of… treaty, I suppose you could call it, betwixt the ancient ruling parties of Soul Society and Hell, buried deep and referenced only in passing in the lore of our world. All of this occurred many thousands of years before the founding of the Gotei 13. It stands to reason this is the 'Contract' Jigoku keeps mentioning. The details were cloudy, whether intentionally or not, but Mayuri did finally learn that Hell had designated a point of contact between itself and us. This person was called the 'Principal', and was given sole authority to treat between the two in order to carry out the Contract. The agreement also contained a proviso which allowed the Principal to establish a second intermediary who would also be registered with Hell in the event of them being unable to perform their duties. This substitute, known as the 'Proxy', would take over should the Principal die, in essence becoming the new Principal. The cycle would then continue until the terms of the Contract had been fulfilled."

He glanced over to where Jigoku and Nemu were still deep in indecipherable discussion. "According to Mayuri's notes, he managed to uncover the identity of the current Principal at that time, whom as most of you might have guessed, was Captain-Commander Genryusai-Shigekuni Yamamoto. The Old Man probably gained the position not long after forming the Gotei 13. But interestingly, at some point in the past the position of Proxy had become vacant, perhaps because the old title-holder died and Yamamoto didn't bother to name a new one. Acting on this information, Mayuri then proceeded to make contact with Hell, and by arcane methods and utilizing his official role as a subordinate of Yamamoto's in the Gotei 13, he managed to get himself recognized by Hell as the new Proxy."

Yoruichi raised an eyebrow. "That sounds like the sort of thing you could have been killed for back then."

"Apparently whatever stipulations or legal mumbo-jumbo were involved also gave him the job permanently, which meant Yamamoto couldn't name a new Proxy even if Mayuri died because then should he himself perish, there would be no new Principal and the Contract would be rendered invalid. This is all operating on formalities and codices so convoluted and self-referential you would have to be a mad genius to make any sense of it. Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on your point of view, Mayuri Kurotsuchi qualified in both respects."

Heaving a deep sigh, Urahara continued. "While he couldn't piece together the Contract in its entirety, he had enough information to continue with the work that originally led him there. However somewhere along the way, Central 46 got wind of what he was up to, which led to his trial and imprisonment while they tried to figure out what to do with him. I imagine they had exhausted all possible avenues to resolve the issue by the time I showed up asking for his release, so they let him out hoping that a new solution might present itself given unforeseen circumstances." He threw a negligent gesture towards the debate occurring a ways off. "Which brings us to today. Mayuri intentionally created Nemu close enough to his own soul specs that she would be able to pass as him in the event the Contract needed to be reviewed and neither he nor Yamamoto were available. He must have done this on the sly and made sure the function would stay inert until it was actually needed, to prevent any more accusations from the Central 46 that could lead to him losing his freedom again."

"And what of this Contract?" the commander of Greyhound Company asked. "Have you learned any more about what it entails?"

At this his counterpart in Ibis perked up, a wide smile splitting his face. "I think we're about to."

Across the lawn there came Nemu Kurotsuchi. Jigoku remained behind her in front of the closed Gates of Hell. At the lieutenant's approach, her superiors all drew closer. She stopped and looked briefly between them before bowing to Byakuya. "Lord-Commander Kuchiki," the synthetic soul intoned, "I have successfully negotiated with the Jigoku. Relevant information related to the Contract has been imparted. In addition, I have stipulated that from here on, you will be instated as the new Principal, with myself remaining as Proxy until you see fit to withdraw the position. Binding agreements have been drawn up, which you must perforce sign for them to be validated." She drew apart and indicated back towards the Gates. "If you will please come with me."

"Ah, Nemu-chan," Urahara chirped sweetly with one hand raised. "Did you happen to get an abridged version of the Contract as I…"

She thrust out a small rolled scroll at him.

"… asked. Well, thank you, don't let me hold things up."

Captain Kuchiki and Lieutenant Kurotsuchi drifted off. Behind them the remaining wardens of Soul Society drew around to peruse the scroll's contents once Urahara spread it out for everyone's inspection. In the light of the flickering torches, they each sought to learn the reason behind this secretive event which had thrown their lives into such turmoil of late.

At last Isane looked up, eyes wide with disbelief. "This Contract… it's a contract killing!"

"Hell wants us to murder someone," Urahara noted with a measure of surprise.

"Someone called…" Jushirō's brow wrinkled slightly as he read further, "… the Escapee?"

"I don't see a name anywhere in here," Yoruichi pointed out. "Maybe we should ask…"

At that very moment there came a rumbling beneath their feet. Looking back, they all saw Byakuya and Nemu stepping hastily away from the now open Gate. They also caught a brief glimpse of Jigoku before he transformed into a long ribbon of burning red organic matter that surged into the churning depths of Hell now on display. The skeleton-studded doors slammed resoundingly shut behind him, diving straight into the ground without a trace to mark their having ever been.

"Well… shit," Urahara sighed, and winced when Yoruichi smacked him.

---

Nanao Ise came awake in somewhat unfamiliar surroundings. This did not trouble her right away, as they proved to be very warm and pleasant. She felt wonderfully relaxed, snuggled underneath a blanket on this oh-so comfortable mattress, the whole experience enveloping her as surely as the two soft smooth pillows she was pressing her face into at that very moment.

Nanao? If you're not drunk anymore, I think this would be a good time to have a look around.

She did so, and was somewhat befuddled at the sight which greeted her. There wasn't much to it. Just pillows as she had first surmised, pink and…

She poked one experimentally. Yes, quite soft and squishy. Very good material.

Above her head, someone gave a moan.

At this Nanao sat bolt upright, and only then did the headache choose to manifest itself. Wincing at the bright light of morning spilling into the room, she spotted her glasses on a nearby bedstand and snatched them up, returning them to their proper position on her face. Dark hair fell untamed around her shoulders, and she appeared to be dressed in nothing more than a white under-robe, which was not cinched properly and in danger of sliding off her shoulders as a result.

Also Neliel was asleep beside her stark naked.

Not completely. She's still got the tassels on, see?

Nanao flopped down again. For a moment she was absorbed in trying to keep the robe from sliding off any further. The studious bibliophile felt her face growing red, which did nothing to diminish the pounding headache coming on. Where am I? I don't recognize this place! Oh, please tell me I'm not anywhere people could find me! Why am I wearing mismatched socks? Why are there wet towels all over the floor?! Why is there a guitar in the ceiling?!

Meanwhile the Hollow captain lay stretched out on her side, a blanket partially wrapped around her enviable physique, eyes closed and a blissful smile painting her face in the cutest little…

What in heaven's name happened last night?!

First you beat Renji to a pulp, then you had a lot to drink, and I mean a LOT, and afterwards you went to check on Neliel and the three of you just…

Yes, thank you, Ureshii, I believe I have a clear picture now!

Feeling more secure, Ise debated. Alright, remain calm. Believe it or not, you actually have experience in this sort of thing. Not firsthand per se, but you've cleaned up after Kyoraku-sama's drunken escapades plenty of times. You just need to start by removing all evidence, tidy up the place, find the owner and bribe them… I mean, compensate them for any damages, and then…

Wait, did you say three of us?

Uh-huh.

Only then did she notice the rather large lump under the blanket near Neliel's feet. Dreading the prospect of what lay beneath, she nonetheless crawled over and lifted a corner to peak underneath.

Hitsugaya Tōshirō grumbled sleepily and curled up into an even tighter ball to hide from the sun.

Nanao stared. Why does he have on cat ears? Why does he have whiskers drawn on his face?! Why is he only wearing a loincloth?!

He's super cute this way. Don't worry, I already got a picture.

Slowly the frazzled female sat back, jaw slack and mind awhirl.

I need to get out of here. I don't know where here is, but I need to leave. I should probably take Tōshirō with me. Scratch that, I need to leave him behind, maybe check to make sure Nel didn't take a bite out of him first, or me, for that matter. After which it's every shinigami for themselves.

What? But Nanao… you had fun last night! I think. Don't you want to stay a little longer?

No, I most certainly do not!

A hand seized her wrist and pulled hard. She fell back with an astonished squeal to find herself face-to-face with Neliel. The ex-Espada's eyes were still closed, yet she cradled Nanao's fingers against her chest possessively, giving a soft sigh before drifting off again.

Heart racing, Nanao stared at the lovely young woman.

You all right?

This time she seriously thought about the question before responding.

Am I all right? Well, let's consider that. I left my hard-earned post in the Gotei 7 and traveled to the mortal world. Why? Because I wanted to experience something outside of warfare and paperwork. Small things, simple things, the sort of carefree experiences I had denied myself in order to serve capably as a shinigami. Could this be one of those? Was this also something a person might do and not have to wonder why or what it means or how it might appear?

She looked down to where the prepubescent prodigy lay snoozing under the covers.

Well, maybe not all of it. But yes, taking everything into account, I think it still might be… all right. Which means I am all right. And that being the case, I'm going to enjoy it for a little bit longer.

With that she took her glasses off and snuggled back into the comfy mattress.

Nanao, you know what's funny? I still don't know where Nel's Hollow hole is.

Let's not worry about that, Ureshii Onnanoko. Worse comes to worst, I remember how to prepare Cloud Over Moon. Thank you, Kyoraku-sama.

---

Hisagi Shuhei crawled out from under a table around noon. Possibly later. There were lots of people scattered around still in much worse states than himself. Man, the Kotetsu really threw a wild party! Small wonder they didn't do it more often. Frequent fiestas on the scale of last night would leave the Seireitei in ruins.

The lieutenant of Leopard Company groggily made his way home. Most of the evening was a blur. His boss had promised to come by after attending the Kuchiki-Shihoin reception, but if memory served, Captain Hitsugaya never showed up. He remembered Sentarō and Kiyone challenging him to a drinking contest, the winner of which might have been Tetsuzaemon Iba. Or possibly… Yasochika Iemura? Hard to say.

On his way back to the barracks Hisagi noticed a few other people stumbling along as well. Nice to see we'll all be hitting the hangover cures. When he got to his front door and unlocked it, however, something out of place registered. Upon entering his bachelor's pad and shutting the door behind him, the reason became clear. Something smells good in here. Like breakfast. Why would that be? And why…

… is there so much ice in my kitchen sink?

Confused, Hisagi noticed pots and pans on the stove he couldn't recall leaving there. Passing by on the way to the bathroom, he was further perplexed to find the tub filled with ice as well.

But it was the sight that greeted him as he entered his bedroom that truly shook his grip on reality.

Why are there wet towels all over the floor? Why is my guitar in the ceiling?! Whose cat ears are these?!

No answers came. All evidence, down to the last strand of colored hair, had already been carefully removed.

---

Urahara spent the 24 hours following Jigoku's departure immersed in Mayuri's Black Files. Some of the research contained therein was frankly mind-boggling. Not because he thought it could ever be successfully accomplished; more that anyone would even consider such avenues possible. Perhaps I misjudged Mayuri? He seems to have expanded his thinking in my absence. We'll definitely have a lot to talk about when he does finally decide to rise from the dead, as it were.

We shall contrive to be absent when and if that occurs.

Are you sure, Benihime? The two of you might actually have common ground.

Spare us your veiled attempts at mockery, whelp. To bestow even the time of day on that man would be more effort than he could ever deserve. We do not associate with riffraff.

I will be sure to pass along your affections to him.

No doubt the most productive contribution to the conversation you will make. We shall leave you to your diversions, then.

While finding his mood typically soured by interacting with his zanpakutō, some good did come from the conversation. It reminded Urahara that he had not found the time to check in on Grimmjow since the battle in the R&D Bureau. Well, no time like the present. Might be nice to do some applied work rather than just theoretical.

"Locate Subject: Grimmjow," he commanded to the room around him. Okay, I'll peruse his readout, then get something to eat, and afterwards we can see about…

-Data not found-

Come again?

Now don't jump to conclusions. Things are probably still a little haywire after the big power shutdown and all the cleanup these last few weeks. With that in mind, Kisuke decided to refine his search. "Locate Subject: Sexta Espada Jaguerjaques, Grimmjow, Category - Djinn Containment level."

-Subject not found-

Urahara bit the inside of his cheek in silent contemplation. A small, selfish part of him considered just filing this information away and not informing anyone of it. They're all so happy what with the wedding and clearing up our relationship vis-à-vis Hell. Why rain on their parade? I can figure this out on my end without sounding the alarm and causing a ruckus.

Had it not been for recent experiences he had gone through, he might have done just that. But Kisuke did not hold quite so lofty an opinion of himself at the moment as usual. So instead he called Soifon and told her to be on the lookout for an escaped serial killer with blue hair and two jawbones.

---

"Face it, shortie. Grimmjow's never coming back. This territory's mine now, and you all work for me. Got that?"

Enfain Tezima looked the speaker up and down. He was an ugly brute of an arrancar whose mask fragments were composed of buffalo horns growing out of his head and a big shaggy hump on his back. The hole in that broad chest was big enough to walk through. Some thirty smaller Hollows clustered at his back, snickering in condescending fashion at the smaller party of masked fighters to which she belonged. Why did the weak ones always laugh like that? It just made you want to kill them first.

Aloud she said, "Even if you're right, we could do a lot better in terms of leadership than a pile of prairie dung. But thanks for stopping by."

The big invader's eyes narrowed. "Somebody's got a mouth on her. Guess that makes you the closest thing to a chief in this mob of little fly shits. So I'll take you down first."

And before you've even drawn your zanpakutō, we'll have killed half your men, she thought to herself. Her pack was arrayed visibly behind her, but it was the ones she had sent around to flank these losers earlier that they should have been concentrating on. By her estimate they were just about ready to party. The de facto pack leader had already picked out which of the Snicker Brigade she would disembowel first. Once the small fries were dead, they would all gang up on Buffalo Chips and tear him to shreds.

About to give the signal to attack, she was surprised when a hand burst out of thin air before her.

The intruders scuttled back a few paces. All except their hulking boss, who crossed his arms and raised a shaggy eyebrow at the occurrence. His smaller opponent was just wondering if she might have underestimated this crew when the very air seemed to shatter, and from out of this tear in space there emerged Grimmjow Jaguerjaques.

The Sexta looked back over his shoulder at Tezima and smirked. "What's up?"

She indicated in front of him, and he turned about. The panther demon needed only a second to evaluate their situation. "Oh. Good. I was feeling hungry." He studied the big bison Hollow, then stuffed his hands in his pockets and gave a yawn. "Except I don't eat anything that's uglier before I shit it out."

That heavy bovine face contracted in a frown. A moment later, though, he grinned. "Well, look what the cat dragged in. Here, kitty-kitty-"

Quick as a flash Grimmjow's hand came out of his pocket and flicked something at him.

"-ki…"

A flash of white light emerged from the hole in the Hollow's chest. An instant later Buffalo Chip was surrounded in bands of black and white that closed in and swallowed him whole, leaving nary a trace.

Before his flunkies could react, Enfain had already darted forward and opened up the stomach of the one she had picked out before. At the same time her ambush unit started massacring them from the rear. Then it was just blood flowing over the sands of Hueco Mundo and screaming all around.

While they were mopping up, Grimmjow stumped over and sat down heavily on an outcropping of rock to watch in bored fashion. Tezima collected some choice pieces from her kill before coming over to join him. She lobbed her commander a juicy bit of intestine which he caught and began munching on. The chameleon arrancar took a seat at his side. For a time they ate in silence.

"So where were you?" she finally asked.

"Dunno." Grimmjow swallowed. "Best I can tell they had me in some shinigami prison. Had to fall back on Plan B to get out." He took another bite before reaching into his pocket once more, emerging with what seemed to be a tiny white cube no bigger than a fingernail.

"What is that?"

"Caja negación. A leftover from my time with King Aizen the Last." He tossed the cube up into the air and snatched it, grinning hugely. "They're for exiling unruly fracción to a separate dimension. Depending on how strong you are, it's possible to bust free after a while. If not, you're stuck in there 'til you starve to death and die. But if you do make a jailbreak, nice part is you don't gotta come out right where you left. You can choose to pop up wherever you want, but only so long as it's in Hueco Mundo. I chose here."

He tossed her the bouillon cube-sized item which Enfain inspected for a moment before slipping into her pants. She then produced a small glowing green orb which she passed over to him. "Here. Our first place prize for participating in Halibel's little game."

Grimmjow accepted this. He turned their reward around to examine it from different angles. Then with a dismissive shrug he stood up and addressed his pack. "Lunchtime's done. You comin' or what?"

They drew back from the gruesome remains of the invading war party. Enfain Tezima finished her meal and took up place beside him. Looking the mess over, Grimmjow smirked before turning about to take off across the dunes with his followers close behind.

---

Less than a week after attending a royal wedding, the cultural festival at Karakura High finally arrived.

It was a wild affair this year as always. In spite of studying for finals and college entrance exams (or perhaps owing to this), the students whole-heartedly threw themselves into putting on the best class and club performances possible. There were maid cafes, fortune telling booths, haunted houses, and exhibitions featuring physical challenges or just plain enjoyable events. It was a carnival that only came to town once a year, and the citizens of Karakura came out in droves so as not to miss it.

The crowd inside the auditorium was huge. It was here that all the musical performances were being held. Acts ranging from light music to heavy metal had taken the stage, and even a traditional kumi-daiko drum show that nearly brought the house down, so well was it received.

The applause from this last were still dying down as the performers manhandled their huge instruments offstage. Michiru Ohgawa watched them go by from her place in the eaves, waiting for their turn to go out. She had taken part in the KOPS mind-reading presentation up until noon. With the help of a few unseen spirits, Ohgawa and her allies had challenged the customers to try and match their paranormal powers with any number of artifacts the blindfolded 'psychics' would then have to guess at. Sure enough, even when made to face a wall or asked to put their hands over their eyes, the KOPS never failed to correctly identify the chosen object. Everyone thought it was all a trick and congratulated them on an excellent performance.

She had worn the outfit Ishida made for her then. Now, however, Michiru had traded her wizardly wardrobe for the scandalous belly-dancer's garb that Rukia had insisted was hers. Swathed in gold and yellow silk, she felt fairly confident nobody would even recognize her. The other KOPS also had on their costumes while they waited in the wings to take the stage. With her on this side were Chizuru, Tatsuki and Kunieda. Across the stage she could see Orihime, Mahana and Mizuiro. All seven of them had raincoats draped over them to prevent word from getting out. This earned them a few curious looks backstage, but nothing like what she expected to result afterwards

It's all come down to this. I talked to Ishida back at the booth. He said he'd be here for the show, and I told him I would too. Just not that I would be part of it. He can learn that little secret himself. I've practiced until my hands bled… figuratively. Now it's time to show the fruits of my training.

She peered around the corner at the clamoring mob of students, teachers and parents. Please don't let me mess up and embarrass myself. Or any of us, for that matter. Let my friends have a good time. Let this all go off without a hitch. Please.

Right then Ochi-sensei passed by her holding a mike. "Showtime, girls!" she whispered gleefully. Then their homeroom teacher walked out to center stage. The audience grew silent in response.

"Good evening, Karakura!" she sang into the microphone like an MC.

"It's 1 o'clock in the afternoon!" a voice that sounded suspiciously like Ichigo Kurosaki responded from the audience. A few people laughed, and that was it.

"Thank you all for waiting," Misato continued without missing a beat. "Now for your viewing pleasure, the Karakura Otherworldly Paranormal Society will storm the stage to perform a traditional dance meant to quell any bad spirits lingering about and lift your own! Please give it up for the KOPS Girls! Oh, and Kurosaki-kun? See me after the show, you have detention."

"WHAT?!"

More laughter followed. Not the way she'd hoped to begin their performance, but at least it wasn't directed at them.

Here goes nothing.

They all cast aside their raincoats, Michiru included. With that a torrent of colored silk and jingling ornaments came flowing in from either side of the stage. The audience had gone dead silent as they all took up their positions, crouching down with foreheads touching the floor and arms extended out before them in a penitent's position. Trying hard not to hyperventilate, she waited for the signal. To either side of her Mizuiro and Ryō waited in the same position. The three of them were in the back row with the four other girls in a line up front, allowing them to be seen through the gaps.

She had just half convinced herself she could hear the gossiping already start when back in the eaves, Keigo Asano pressed a button, and their Arabian music selection emerged over the loudspeakers, causing several people watching to jump.

At the same time, they all leapt upright, and her battle began.

Michiru Ohgawa clasped both hands overhead while shaking her hips from side to side. Her comrades did the same in perfectly synchronized precision. She then took a step forward, crossing one leg before the other while continuing to gyrate to the sound of her tingling garments. Pipes trilled and drums supplied a heavy beat. Not for the first time, the girl felt the thrill of putting on such a bold and uninhibited display. The only difference was now, instead of her caring and trusted classmates, hundreds of strangers were watching her, half-naked and wearing a costume that by all rights belonged in a game show bonus round. Normally this alone would have been enough to make her quail and bolt in utmost chagrin.

Instead none of that mattered, for she had spotted Uryu.

He was towards the front standing next to Kurosaki, Sado and Kon. The last two stood out in the crowd by the simple fact they were not blown away by what was transpiring. Not so Ishida. He, like a fair number of the surrounding spectators, was gaping in shock. Like he couldn't believe what his eyes were telling him.

It's real, Ishida-kun. Let me show you how much.

The bob-haired girl spun about several times, toes dancing over the floor so that she wound up facing backstage. Michiru crossed both arms over her chest, bare shoulders rising and falling in unison with the rest of her troupe. The sound of chiming bells and brass coins filled her ears with every movement of their exotic dress. She then threw a meaningful look over one shoulder. Her eyes over the buttercup-yellow veil held a challenge in them, and she sought out her target like an amorous arrow from a bow.

When she caught sight of Uryu again it was to find all his attention fixed on Orihime.

This realization sent Ohgawa crashing to her knees. Fortunately that was the next part of their routine. While her mind was scrambling through a distraught haze, her body's reactions had been drilled in so often that conscious thought was not necessary. Michiru lay back and planted her palms flat against the floor overhead. She then lifted herself off the ground, feet braced and back arching into a u-shape. The crowd gasped in approval at this contortionism. All seven performers began undulating their bellies in rhythmic fashion, hips and breasts heaving in counterpoint with every rippling wave of flesh.

From this upside-down vantage, still she could easily perceive Uryu's eyes were not for her. Bereft, Michiru risked a glance off to the side. There she witnessed a marvel of nature, as Inoue outdid them all in terms of sheer sex appeal. Her huge bobbing breasts encased in green silk were mesmerizing. Long luxurious hair spilled down to pool beneath her crown, swaying like a seductive orange coiled cobra. The smile she wore looked dazzling even in this position.

Michiru's face felt hot. Tears were threatening to come out. How could I ever compete with all that? Worse yet, she probably doesn't even realize what she's doing to me! I knew it was just a fantasy in my head, but… can't I at least have a shot with one person that I love?

Not without a fight.

The dancers lay flat on their backs before flipping over to their stomachs. They rose to one knee, other leg placed before them, and began to weave their arms in time to the music, fluid graceful patterns guaranteed to draw the eye and entice the mind.

I can't give up, Michiru thought. Not yet. It's not all about the body. Or heart, because I have to admit even there, she's got me beat. And who can blame him for wanting her? Anybody would. But what I do have that she doesn't is…

INTEREST!

The next bit was a series of short solo routines allowing each performer to stand out. By unanimous consent Inoue went first; everyone had agreed this would be the most suitable arrangement.

It therefore came as a shock to all concerned when Michiru Ohgawa leapt forward and took her place at center stage before the bubbly redhead could start to move.

From the corner of one eye, she could see confusion and uncertainty on several faces, most notably Orihime's. Yet they continued to do their own synchronized background moves in a half-circle around her. Even Inoue joined in after a brief pause. Which left Michiru in the spotlight for all to see.

"When you dance, imagine the person you care about most watching, and let it be all for them."

I don't have to imagine anymore, Rukia-sama. He's right there in front of me. All that's left for me to do is make him realize it.

Everything went away. Insecurity, fear, self-consciousness. In their place Michiru found herself writing a storyline right then and there. She was a desert sheikh's daughter, brought before a coldly handsome Persian warlord whose fancy she had drawn when he spied her dancing by firelight under the harvest moon. He had threatened her small tribe with destruction under the heels of his unbeatable army were she not brought before him. Little did the young conqueror know that she too caught sight of him that night, losing her heart to those deep blue eyes, dark and dangerous as the sea. Now alone together in a compartment of his fabled palace of wonders, she stood ready to perform the fabled risqué tarantata. Taught to her by the small but beautiful chief courtesan of this mysterious domain, the magic dance held the promise of death for both performer and observer if not done well enough to inspire love. She was prepared to die with him if he did not return her affection, for then her people would be safe. But still, oh, how her heart yearned to have him live, for both their sakes!

That's the story I want for myself. No one else left in the room but the two of them. Michiru imagined Uryu in exotic desert attire, lounging on pillows with all his attention fixed sternly upon her. Their eyes met. Behind his glasses, Ishida blinked in sudden consternation. The rhythm took hold of her then. Without further ado, she began to dance.

It was more than just arms and legs. The looks she threw in his direction were both pleading and challenging from one moment to the next. A daring lover's gambit; the opening of the heart for another person's inspection. Ohgawa did the moves she had practiced in front of the others, but now there was more to it. Fire animated her movements. She lifted one leg and swung about in a circle, pirouetting on her toes, the bells on both ankles ringing loud and clear. Then she dropped down low and began to twist sinuously skyward like lazy waves of smoke curling up from a genie's lamp to reveal the beautiful spirit in their depths. I'm ready to grant your wish, Master Ishida. But only one…

Michiru crossed her wrists before her face, fingers rippling as though she plucked an invisible harp's strings, never letting him out of her sight. Lips parted, she panted in exhilaration. He still wore the turban and robes in her imagination. However even in real life, Ishida Uryu stared at Michiru's performance, thunderstruck. Clearly he had never known she was capable of something like this.

The time limit for her solo had almost arrived. Noting this, the heartfelt dancer collapsed as though exhausted. A ruse, nothing more. Her knees hit the stage and then spread to either side. Both hands struck the floor together with savage force. Michiru's crowned head plummeted down to hide her face; back curving, she seemed to shake from some uncontainable inner force. Then her neck snapped up, spine arching to gaze fiercely at the object of her devotion as the piece ended. Yes! It's true, all real, all me! Her face and movements spoke loud and clear, saying no less forcefully without any words…

I'M INTERESTED IN YOU, YA BIG BOZO!

A loud cheer went up from the audience. Michiru had already leapt up and moved back with the others, allowing Tatsuki to take her place in the normal routine. By silent consent Orihime would assume the spot that had been reserved for Michiru's performance. Feeling a bit guilty now, the shorter girl looked to her busty counterpart apologetically. However the smile she got back shattered any fear of resentment on the lovely redhead's part. Orihime seemed positively giddy at her performance, such that Ohgawa couldn't help but smile back.

She kept dancing as Tatsuki finished her debut and was replaced by Mizuiro. It took the crowd a while to realize he was a guy, but as soon as they did, the ladies all started squealing with glee.

From what she could tell, Uryu never even noticed the change in lineup. He just kept staring at Michiru with wide eyes as though seeing her for the very first time. Aside from him leaping onstage to join us, I couldn't have asked for a better reaction.

The individual routines ended, and they executed the dénouement, rushing together to form a big pile of scarves and sensual limbs. There they froze in sultry poses as the last strains of lingering flute notes drifted away.

Everyone went wild. The audience clapped and stomped enthusiastically. While several teachers and parents looked aghast at this display, the overall opinion was undoubtedly in the KOPS' favor. Ecstatic, Michiru looked at her colleagues, grinning from ear to ear. They all seemed just as thrilled as she was; even the normally stoic Kunieda might have been smiling, though she hid it behind one upraised blue silk-clad arm. Tatsuki actually held out a hand towards her for a high-five, and immediately Michiru complied by slapping their palms together so hard they stung. It felt good nonetheless. As their admirers continued to roar, she caught sight of Ochi Misato clapping offstage with a big cheerful grin. Musclebound P.E. teacher Kagine stood right next to her screaming his head off, veins popping in his forehead as he repeatedly jabbed a finger towards the KOPS girls while turning bright red.

While being showered with outraged spittle, Ochi-sensi pulled a white handkerchief from her pocket, presumably to dry off. However in the same motion she produced a small tube with a five-pointed silver star emblazoned upon it. Misato quickly emptied the contents of the vial onto her handkerchief before whipping around and leaping onto Kagine's back, where she then pressed the soaked cloth firmly against his mouth and nose. The big man flailed and stumbled about for a few moments before his eyes rolled up in his head and he slumped to lay passed out flat on the ground.

Nobody seemed to remark on this. Then again, hardly anyone noticed half the strange things their sensei did. If they had, she'd probably be in jail by now. Go figure.

Trembling from adrenaline and euphoria, Michiru got up and followed the other girls offstage. They were all yammering at once, elated at the performance and the resultant outpouring of support. She saw Rukia standing by Noboru and Don Kanonji. Both boys were holding hands and jumping up and down while shouting their excitement. The Don's entourage seemed to be advising him on how he could incorporate the KOPS gals into his show. For her part Rukia looked on with an affectionate smile. She noticed Michiru and dipped her head slightly in approval. Well done, was what it clearly meant.

Michiru smiled and waved in return. Thanks, Rukia-sama. It's a good start, but not over yet.

---

Ichigo Kurosaki sat on a rocky outcropping overlooking the sea. He wore swim trunks and a short-sleeved Hawaiian shirt open to the cool night air. Now that autumn was here, the weather was quickly turning cold. However his classmates had agreed that after the cultural festival they should all hit the beach one last time this year before it became too uncomfortable to do so. By way of celebrating their accomplishments both during the festival and academically. Farther down the beach, everyone was gathered around a bonfire they had erected. The sun had dipped below the horizon a few minutes past, and now the stars were coming out. There were sweet potatoes being roasted and somebody even produced some square watermelons that had been squirreled away for just such an occasion. He could hear them laughing happily even up here. Soon it would be time to join them.

For now, though, the substitute shinigami hung apart, debating. He could see Rukia from here. She was wearing a two-piece black swimsuit and a matching shirt to the one he had on. Some girls from their class were peppering her with questions, no doubt asking if she could teach them to dance. She laughed them off a bit nervously. It was hard to tell by her body language if Rukia had agreed to these requests or not.

The thought of her in that belly-dancing outfit made him bring his knees to his chest and bury his face in them. Kurosaki remained in this position for several minutes, listening to the waves churn against the shore.

"Mind if I join you?"

When he looked up Ichigo was surprised to find none other than Michiru Ohgawa standing beside him. She had on a hoodie with the cowl drawn up around her face and a long skirt that brushed against her sandal-clad feet.

"O-Ohgawa-san!" the big teen exclaimed, surprised. "You can… I mean, sure, go ahead."

"Thanks."

She took a seat beside him, crossing her legs and staring out across the waves. For his part Ichigo fidgeted from being at a loss what to do. He couldn't remember speaking to Ohgawa more than once in his whole life, even since she was drawn into the world of the afterlife they now shared. She had always been one of the people easily intimidated by his looks and overall demeanor, and to be honest, he hadn't given her much thought until now. Of course, after that display she put on today, it might be time to seriously reevaluate this small girl in terms of bravery. How else to explain that unforgettable show?

Which just begs the question: what does she want with me?

"I suppose you're wondering why I'm here."

Kurosaki gave a start. "Uh… well, I was just… y'know, never mind, tell me."

"Truth is, I'm dragging my feet." Ohgawa didn't look at him when she spoke. She rested an elbow on her knee and cupped her chin in one hand. "There's something important I need to do, and I'm working up the courage to do it." A small smile worked its way across her face. "But I don't need to tell you about that, do I?"

This just got weirder and weirder. "Say, Ohgawa-san… are you…?"

"I'm going to confess my feelings to someone."

When she turned to regard him, the look on Kurosaki's face made her burst out laughing. "Not you, Kurosaki-san!" and she gave him an affectionate slap on the arm. "Geez, get serious! It's not like every girl on Earth has the hots for you." A slightly wistful tinge came over that smile. "Just all the amazing ones, I guess."

This was fast entering uncomfortable territory, the kind that left him wondering if maybe there was some evil mastermind at work seeking to use this normally timid and unremarkable girl to catch him off-guard and ensnare him in some diabolical plot to get revenge against all of Soul Society. But c'mon, even a devious villain could do better than Michiru Ohgawa, right?

"It's got nothing to do with you, trust me," his unprepossessing classmate continued. "I just felt like taking this chance to give you some advice."

"Oh," he responded back. "Okay. Go right ahead."

"You need to get off your ass with Rukia."

Alright, definitely evil mind control at work here. "Excuse me?"

Michiru leaned back on her hands with a sigh. "I remember what Tatsuki said about you two not even having kissed yet. That was a while ago, but something tells me nothing's changed in that respect. Am I right?" She looked over, and away again. "Yeah, I can see I am. Never play poker, okay, Kurosaki-san? You'd lose big-time."

She kept going before he could call her on that. "But like I said, you've got to stop dragging your heels with her. This is coming from an expert at inventing excuses for not doing something. It's easy to find a good reason to be cowardly. You're pretty courageous by nature, which means you probably never had much opportunity or reason to do so before. At least when it came to beating scary people up, I mean. Hollows or bullies, you never think about not fighting, from what I can tell. But now you've gotten yourself into a fix that can't be resolved by swinging a sword. And so far you've avoided any sort of meaningful engagement. But let me tell you something, Kurosaki-san. This is a fight you can very easily lose by doing nothing. You've got a lot of competition whether you know it or not. So whatever excuse you've used to keep things from going ahead with Rukia, my advice is to kick it to the curb, bite the bullet and just charge right in like you usually do. Because she deserves to be loved in a big way, whether from you or someone else."

After this astonishingly perceptive analysis of his current situation (the most words he could remember hearing from her since they started school together), Ichigo Kurosaki could do no more than gape like a particularly stupid breed of goldfish.

Michiru glanced over, gaze flicking up and down his body. Then she turned back to the sea again.

"You should kiss her, Kurosaki-san," she stated matter-of-factly. "If you don't…" Here Michiru stood up, dusting off her skirt and turning away. "… I will."

Ichigo twisted around in surprise. He watched her clamber carefully down the rocks, unable to say a word as Michiru gained the beach and headed towards the bonfire celebration, her sandals leaving tracks through the sand. From this distance he saw her approach what looked to be Uryu Ishida. She spoke to him for a little. The Quincy was holding a snowcone and an ear of barbecued corn, and he looked in danger of dropping them both, so nervous was he. She indicated off to one side, clearly asking if he would join her for a private talk. Looking astonished but not unwilling, Uryu gave a slow nod and moved to follow in her wake. They went off together, eventually disappearing from his sight.

With nothing pressing left to occupy his attention, the bewildered youth flopped onto his back and gazed up at the twinkling stars above. Holy cow. Did she just… I mean, am I imagining things, or could Michiru be…?

Ever the keen insight into other people's hearts, I see.

Listen, Old Man Zangetsu, it might have escaped your notice, but I'm only 17 years old! It would be more unusual if I actually did know what to do with my life, much less what girls of any age might be thinking! Especially ones who, as far as I can tell, play both ends of the field.

Her commentary, by contrast, showed great perception. You have been rather eager to embrace your Hollow as an excuse not to explore further with Rukia. This does not strike me as very mature behavior, even for a 17-year-old.

What are you saying? You think I should… like, go out with her more? On a date, even?

Far be it from me to coach you in romantic matters. I only seek to encourage you not to miss any opportunities which may be presenting themselves. The results could prove most pleasant, as well as beneficial.

"Am I interrupting anything?"

When he opened his eyes, the woman he loved was smiling down at him.

"Rukia!" Ichigo shot to his feet. He looked down at her, hunched over a bit and feeling rather goofy. This apparently held no concern for Rukia as she gazed at him fondly before bringing a hand to her mouth and giggling behind a smile.

The wind came up to blow her hair slightly.

In that moment, Ichigo Kurosaki reached one hand up to touch her cheek. When she opened her eyes, he bent down and kissed Rukia on the mouth.

Her lips parted, and a moan came from deep in her chest. Crouched over, he felt her fingers run through his hair even as his own eyes closed. A shiver of pure heat passed up his chest and into his face, rolling out to tingle the tips of his fingers deliciously.

Then she was moving in from all angles, breath coming in gasps between smoldering kisses as their tongues rolled around one another's mouths. Before he knew it Rukia had leapt up and wrapped her strong muscular legs around his waist. He pulled her to him, never letting off kissing her hot and fast now so that their noses collided half the time but even this didn't deter them. His shaking fingers sank into the bottom half of her swimsuit, which prompted her to snag a toe into the waistband of his own trunks. One sharp powerful yank down, and the swimwear collapsed around his ankles where he promptly kicked them off.

They pulled away from each other then, her arms still wrapped around his neck, staring into each other's eyes as though asking a question.

And then he slowly bent a knee, drawing down to lay Rukia upon the rock tenderly. She looked up at him from there, purple eyes glowing and cheeks red from desire. Her smile right then let him know everything was all right. At last he lay down with her, their bodies pressed together as they started to kiss one another, but slowly now, on the neck and eyelids and everywhere else they might have been dreaming of before now. Far from prying eyes, love played its greatest hand.

---

The Graff held Inglebert by the throat high off the floor, his legs kicking futilely. Totholtz glanced down at the silver dagger buried in his chest. With utter contempt he wrapped pale fingers around its handle and pulled the weapon free. Dark red blood hissed and smoked upon it, but nothing more.

The knife clattered to the floor of his inner sanctum. At the same time, the vampire lord's eyes glowed red. His black-cloaked body seemed to swell larger, white face transforming into a demonic death mask that stood out against the pitch-dark body. His jaws opened wide, canines sprouting to wicked lengths.

"STOP!"

Totholtz ignored Rania's outburst, crouched on the floor in her dark green wedding dress. As Inglebert continued to struggle like a child in the monster's grip, the Graff bent down to tear his face off. Had Totholtz bothered to look, he might have been pleased to see the Gypsy girl's own eyes glowed as red as his own now.

Rania felt her spirit teetering on the line between damnation and salvation. The night was surging through her blood, screaming for cruelty and pain to be unleashed. She could actually sense it, out there, past the circle of thick blood-stained glass windows that encircled this whole mausoleum.

And she could feel more than that.

All the rage came bursting forth, the desire for vengeance that had been building up in her since arriving in this sinister place, or maybe her entire short bitter life. The power was there, just as Totholtz had promised her, magnified and focused by the unholy mark the immortal's tainted mouth had left on her blood, her soul. 'Let it out,' he had said. 'Let it serve you.'

A force unlike anything she had ever known filled the orphan girl. As Graff Totholtz moved to tear the life from her helpless friend, she opened her mouth wide, closed her eyes and SCREAMED!

The force of this shout held the power of a volley of cannonballs, and in an instant, every last window in the room was blasted into shards that went tumbling out in a glittering shower over the roofs of the castle.

They sparkled like red diamonds in the light of the newly risen morning sun.

Graff Totholtz emitted a howl so loud it rocked the entire mighty fortress down to its foundation. But for all the outrage in his voice, there was fear too, as the blazing golden sun sent its shafts piercing into the heart of the vampire's open abode like spears aimed at his unbeating heart.

And where they touched him, the lord of the undead erupted into flames.

Totholtz continued to wail as his form caught fire like a pitch-soaked rag. Suddenly that gigantic body exploded, sending Inglebert flying. As Rania watched, the burning pieces of midnight became individual bats. A virtual horde of winged night-flyers swept throughout the burial chamber screeching in pain. Holy fire continued to overtake them so that they resembled flaming torches on the wing, or will-o-the-wisps. Resolutely Rania crawled below this hellstorm of fury. The sun's rays caused her to cringe, and not simply because she hadn't felt their touch in what seemed like years. Yet even as the pain raced over her skin, she could feel it removing whatever hellish taint the Graff had bestowed upon her. With every move she made, life and warmth returned to her limbs. It wasn't enough. I would not accept his evil, even if it meant rescuing my family, and so he could not make me like him. Now it seems I might be able to save them and myself after all.

She finally made her way over to Inglebert. Lifting him to a sitting position, Rania's heart soared when his eyes opened. Though clearly in pain from the injuries the Graff had inflicted upon him, it looked as though he would still survive. But only if I can get him out of here.

Overhead there came a loud shriek. Rania looked up in time to see the blaze of bats go twisting down like a cyclone straight into the half-open stone sarcophagus that dominated the center of this chamber. As she watched the last crumbling creature sink below the lip, two hands still engulfed in fire reached above the edge of the cairn and seized the lid, dragging it painfully closed.

Moments before the stone cover shut, two blood-red eyes burned from within those dark depths. They lanced into her with a shock so strong Rania could not look away, seeming to betoken a terrible promise…

'You are mine.'

A second later the casket had sealed itself from the unforgiving sun. The whole thing then sank swiftly down on some unseen mechanism until only the top was visible, flush with the floor beneath their feet. The weakened and vulnerable Graff was now beyond their reach.

Rania stared at that carved stone surface. She settled Inglebert gently back to the floor, wincing at his gasp of pain. Then the girl stood up. Walking forward, she picked up the silver dagger where it had fallen, examining herself in its polished sheen. No longer did she appear blurry in the reflection, a sign that her soul had not been lost to the darkness.

With that Rania marched over until she stood beside the submerged sarcophagus. Gazing down upon its carved surface, she considered the monster that lay resting beneath it.

Then she bent low. Carefully the girl drew the dagger's blade down in a long straight line. Afterwards she painted another mark straight across it near the top.

Rania stepped back. There before her on the Graff's tomb was a cross, drawn in his own blood. Beneath her feet a sound came, like a faint but furious scream far below, as though arising from the deepest pit of Hell itself.

She laid the bloody silver dagger upon the holy symbol's intersecting lines with the blade pointing down, almost like another cross atop the first. Perhaps that would be enough to hold him in there. At least long enough for her clan to flee from this nightmarish land and never return.

With that settled, she then went back to where Inglebert lay. Rania helped him clamber to his feet. Draping his arm over her shoulder, she supported the weary youth. He was too weak to protest this treatment as the two bedraggled Romani stumbled from the room without looking back.

As they made their way through the empty echoing corridors, Rania contemplated everything that had happened here. Unlike her clan, she did not believe she could escape the Graff's reach so easily. Totholtz had claimed her for his own, and he would not stop seeking her for so long as she lived. The thought of being with him for all eternity still made the Gypsy waif tremble, and not entirely from fear. The wicked vampire had been correct in his summation; there was wickedness in her too, a hatred for the human race that cleaved more closely to hell than heaven. Part of her still yearned to be with him, to satisfy his hungry desires alongside her own. Yet what he had neglected to mention was the choice one had to make in order to be truly damned.

Totholtz let the bitter hatred at love's betrayal so long ago consume him, offering up his very soul to the powers of darkness for the sake of vengeance. Right then Rania silently promised herself she would take the lesson he had unintentionally taught her to heart. Heart, body and soul; so long as she could lay claim to any one of them, the night would never claim her.

"Are you finished with that drivel yet, my lady?" Byakuya asked from his place beside her.

Yoruichi stretched both arms overhead and groaned in satisfaction. "Yes, I believe I am, my lord husband."

She placed the data pad on a nightstand beside their bed before turning to nuzzle against his arm like an affectionate feline. Propped against some pillows in a plain evening robe, with that ink-black hair falling untamed around his shoulders and his attention focused on the reports spread out before him, she wondered if he knew how achingly attractive he looked. The delighted damsel decided to enjoy this sight a few moments longer before speaking.

"Y'know, I'm the one who should be peeved at your choice of reading material. I thought you knew better than to bring work to bed?" She gave him a poke in the ribs by way of retribution. "Not a very husbandly way to spend our first night together."

"This is clan affairs," he sought to reassure her. "Not Gotei 7 matters. I finished those before joining you." Then, in what he must have meant to be an offhanded manner that was spoiled by his own serious bearing, "So what became of your fiery young heroine in the end?"

"Oh, don't worry, Byakuya, the girl didn't make you screw your little sister, if that's what you're worried about."

He shot her a narrow-eyed look that would have been a death sentence for anyone else. Apparently dismissing this line of conversation, he tried another tack. "I believe Noboru is fitting in well. He seemed quite pleased with the room we offered him."

"That wasn't a 'room', my dear, it was an entire wing of your palace," she corrected him. "Of course he loved it. I only hope you're not trying to subtly coax him over to your side with grandiose displays of Kuchiki wealth."

The brooding lord flipped to the next page in his report. Unlike his wife, he still insisted on receiving all briefings, whether work-related or family affairs, in solid paper format. The question of his being behind the times was not one he cared to dwell upon. Far more important matters were at stake. "Noboru will eventually have to be made heir to one of our families. He cannot assume control of both. There's time yet for us to help him decide where he would like to reign in terms of his lineage."

"He's still a boy, new to the idea of what royalty entails." Yoruichi's eyes drifted around the room, comfortable confines glowing in the yellow light of candles. "He doesn't know how dangerous it really is. Or what he might have to give up."

Her tone of voice led him to put away the paperwork immediately. Drawing the woman he loved into his embrace, Byakuya rested his chin on her crown. She held him fully now with both arms wrapped tight. He had dreamed of time spent with her like this for the past century. At the beginning, in his youthful ardor, the proud lordling had told himself their love could conquer any obstacles in its path.

It had never occurred to him with every battle won, there might be new menaces already on the rise.

'I have come before you, Lord Kuchiki…'

He closed his eyes, teeth grinding at the memory.

---

Less than a day after announcing his upcoming wedding at the annual conclave of the Great Houses, Byakuya Kuchiki received word of a guest at his house that shocked him greatly.

There was little time to think in the few minutes it took for the party in question to arrive. Yet had he been given the entire day, Byakuya doubted he could have come up with anything closer to an explanation as to why this was happening.

A short while later, he found himself sitting across from Katsurou, Lord of the Arashi.

The two men exchanged greetings, and nothing more. Byakuya watched the older man, attentive to his every move. Wearing olive and crimson ceremonial attire, his shortened arm tucked into the front of his robes, he appeared as relaxed as though they were in his own home. Katsurou was well versed in noble etiquette; he gave nothing away which might be used against him. Yet the very fact that he was here spoke volumes. In all his days, Byakuya had never known a member of the Arashi clan to enter upon the Kuchiki grounds, much less the head of that family himself. Now here he sat, calm and regal as though not upending what many had considered to be an ironclad rule of their world by now.

Why is he here?

"To what do I owe the honor of your visit, Lord Arashi?" Byakuya asked as he poured a cup of tea.

Katsurou's deep black eyes watched the ceremony being performed. He made no move to accept the tea when it was presented to him. And there was not even a trace of emotion on his face when he spoke next.

"I have come before you, Lord Kuchiki, to ask for your sister Rukia's hand in marriage."

Arc 3: FIN.