Dancers genuflected or stepped aside for Rukia as she made her descent onto the floor. She knew that someone was waiting for her, and passed assuredly through the press of bodies like a single snowflake dancing in a blizzard.

The lights were very bright in this ballroom, which she recognized as something out of the so-called Roaring 20's of America. Gentlemen in coattails and ladies in fancy dresses adorned with feathers paired off all around her. It was a strange outfit she herself had on, to be sure: a flapper dress, white with innumerable crystal beads sewn into it. The sound of their clattering reminded her of raindrops against a metal roof. A white cloche hat capped her head to complete the ensemble with a great silk bow tied on one side. Diamond bracelets sparkled on her wrists and the sandals she wore. For some reason this all made her very happy.

Suddenly the crowd seemed to part, and she recognized her partner at last. He stood leaning against a column with his back to her dressed all in white. A jacket was draped carelessly over one shoulder, and he had on a fedora with a black band from which grew a single peacock feather. His gaze rested firmly on the band playing at the end of the hall.

Rukia approached without anyone getting in her way. She stretched out a hand, and spoke his name, making sure to add no honorific when she did.

He turned with a smile.

"Good evening, Kuchiki-sama."

Rukia froze. The man before her was Aizen Sosuke.

He took her hand then, and they began to dance. His arm slipped around her waist, the other one held at shoulder level. Rukia dared not resist him for fear of bumping into the other dancers and making a mess of things. He seemed to pick up on her intentions, and chuckled good-naturedly.

"Even here, you are so very considerate, Lady Kuchiki," the traitor-captain remarked. "Can you not simply enjoy yourself, at least for half a measure?"

"I did not come here for you," she spoke with icy venom.

"Oh, come now! And we made such an effort on your dress. I'll have you know, Kyoka Suigetsu put a great deal of time into getting every single stitch and bead exactly right. She can be such a perfectionist."

For a moment something dark moved amongst the dancers, and Rukia could feel eyes burning into her intently. But when she looked directly at it, she saw nothing more remarkable than a potted plant. Aizen stole a glance in the same direction and shook his head in resignation.

"Well, she's a bit shy around others. Don't let it bother you." He twirled her about, causing the room to spin, and ended up dipping Rukia down to hover a scant inch above the floor, held securely in his arm. The smile he wore showed how very pleased with himself he was at this performance.

Rukia merely glared back. "What do you want?"

He lifted her up. "To talk."

The music changed, though she could not pinpoint any individual notes. But as if on command all the well-dressed dancers around them left off the wild gyrations of before and instead fell into each other's embrace, swaying slowly cheek to cheek with contented smiles. Her free hand was now on his chest, which caused a grimace to work its way up her face. But their feet moved in time to the rhythm as she was forced to take part in this semblance of a slow dance. For a moment she could have sworn she saw a baby sitting on the floor…

"How have you been?" Aizen asked. He no longer smiled, instead adopting a reserved persona. It reminded Rukia of his uncle. Perhaps this compelled her to speak.

"I am well." Then, as a show of defiance, "Since you have been gone."

He nodded as if accepting both her evaluation and the declaration without surprise. Aizen glanced around the ballroom thoughtfully before speaking next.

"We're coming back, you know."

Rukia shuddered. There was no use denying it. She had always known.

"It's simply a matter of time." He led her along, drifting over the floor, and where they passed, the dancers vanished into smoke and silk draperies that crumpled in heaps. The room itself disappeared behind them to be lost in darkness. "One of us will be revealed soon. You should all prepare for it."

The look he gave her then was troubled. It came as such a surprise she momentarily forgot to hate him. "What's wrong?" she asked.

Sosuke seemed to reflect on this. He stopped the dance, bringing her with him. The ballroom lost all color; its contents became white lines against a black background. Even the people transformed into silhouettes with no more substance than a dream.

Wait… is this…?

"Be on your guard when you meet," Aizen said without letting go. "She is not the person you remember. Her… dissatisfaction… with you all has only grown. And I fear she will no longer be kind."

Fear crept inside her at his words. To Rukia's surprise she found herself saying, "Please help…"

"I will." And now Aizen smiled again. "When I am free, everything will be made right. Heaven is on our side, dear. Don't discount that."

He drew away, still holding her hand, and bowed.

"Take care, Kuchiki-sama."

When Sosuke dipped down, a tall shadow rose behind him. Its lone eye glowed red, staring wide at Rukia with a vengeful fury that struck her like a slap to the face…!

She came awake holding her cheek, teary-eyed from the pain even as it faded.

Rukia sat up and looked around. Ichigo lay in untroubled sleep beside her. The sight filled her with a fond warmth.

She heard a faint mewl elsewhere in the house. That sound was unmistakable. Quickly and quietly Rukia got up and stole down the hall until she reached the nursery. Upon entering, she saw their son had sat up in his crib and was looking all about, confusion dawning on his face that would fast turn to wails if she didn't act.

"There, there," Rukia whispered as she crossed over and scooped him up. "Don't cry, shhhh." He struggled a bit in her arms, as though demanding to be put back down. But after a bit the boy settled comfortably with his head against her shoulder and began sucking his thumb, dark eyes darting all around the moonlit room. She paced about while rocking him, humming and whispering soothing noises to prevent any outbursts. In just a few minutes his eyes closed, mouth still locked around his thumb.

What happened?

A nightmare.

Again? Why can't the poor kid sleep?

I'm not sure. Perhaps I'll ask one of the other mothers if their children experience the same.

This is growing odd. You were having a bad one yourself if I'm not mistaken. Care to share?

I don't remember what it was about.

Really…?

Rukia looked down at the baby.

No. But I think he was in it.

That's… strange. Zangetsu spoke to me earlier. He said Ichigo mentioned the same thing happening before. I'm starting to wonder if the little guy might be more special than we thought.

Then I will consult with home. They might have more to offer than mortal remedies.

Well, that's settled. In the meantime, would you try and get back to sleep? You're burning both ends of the candle these days.

If you insist.

She laid the baby down. Rukia waited a while to make certain he wasn't about to wake up again. Once assured, she made her way to bed. After laying down beside Ichigo, the exhausted shinigami watched as moonlight through the blinds crawled over the floor. Could Sode no Shirayuki be right and there was something wrong with the baby? Life had been so ordinary for the past year. Had trouble have once again risen in their world?

If so, it would not find her unprepared. Rukia had many allies to call upon these days. And she would not hesitate to seek them out. Not when the safety of her son might be at stake.

'Take care…'

The words drifted through her mind. It made Rukia uneasy. Who had spoken them, and why? She was still pondering this mystery when sleep claimed her.

"It's Gypsies who're to blame, y'know."

The man and woman sitting quietly in the inn's taproom grew still upon hearing this. They exchanged a glance.

Murmurs of agreement rose to confirm this statement. Setting down his pewter tankard, the speaker at table continued without interruption. "And Jews, le's not forget them," he wagged a meaningful finger as though lecturing in university. "Filthy pagans, the lot of 'em. Worse than Saracens. At least they did'na crucify our Lurd and Say-vior. Slinkin' about like rats, bringin' plague'n misfortune eva'where they go."

"This be worse than any plague, Barto," one of his listeners pointed out. "Lest you be counting those enumerated in the Good Book."

"I heard Pitesti is gone," another whispered. "Completely. The whole town. In a single night, they say."

"Tis the End of Days," another proclaimed mournfully, taking a pull at his drink.

"Tha's muh point, right there," the speaker Barto spoke loudly to regain control of the conversation. His fellow peasants looked on mournfully, but the two travelers paid close attention to what was being said. "We've sinned, we have. All of us! By lettin' their lot live amongst us un'mulested. God's punishin' us! And we must do what need's bein' done!"

Some grunts and shifting might have been this lot's way of expressing agreement. Right then the waitress, a plump girl with sad eyes and a pouty frown came up to the two traveler's table with their drinks. "Excuse me," the man said as she set the foaming tankards down. "Do you know how far it is to reach the Turnu Rossu Pass?"

"Pass is closed," she informed him without looking up.

This news caused her clients to tense, though the waitress failed to notice. The small girl in the big cloak leaned closer. "What happened?"

The waitress only now seemed to notice she was being drawn into a conversation. She stood up straight and peered at the pair curiously, noting their heavy hooded traveling attire that served to hide their faces. "The Burning Man was sighted south. Army came in. They closed the pass. Pitesti fell two days past." Her eyes narrowed in sudden suspicion. "Common knowledge, that."

"Thank you," the man spoke hastily, offering two coins to pay for their drinks. She accepted and moved off, but cast a glance over one shoulder as she did. While huddling deeper into the shadowy corner, the outcasts didn't fail to note how the waitress bent low to whisper in one man's ear at the next table while depositing her fare. This happened to be the very same group that was so animated on the topic of local events.

"Psst!"

Both looked down, and were surprised to find a small gray cat sitting near their feet. The feline rose to leave, then looked back at them.

"Come with me," it said.

"Fifteen minutes. Then you will need a break."

Michiru Ohgawa looked up in surprise from a laptop. "What?" She examined the clock on the wall, and her heart sank. 4:30 already?! Where did the time go! I had been hoping to get to the bridge pursuit by this point! Why did I spend so much time looking up European geography? I should have just powered through and taken care of it later!

"You have the television interview still on for 6:30," her agent Uguisu informed her as she scrolled through a tablet. "I've rescheduled the photo shoot for this weekend, though. That should give you a chance to catch up on any work you might have left unfinished."

The tone of her voice told Michiru her sorry lack of progress on the latest chapter had not gone unnoticed. However, Ohgawa still felt a desire to point something out. "Is this because of the new costumes? Ishida-kun said he'll be bringing them over before dinner. You didn't have to move things around, I'm sure they'll fit!"

"I have no doubts Ishida-san will come through. This was done for your sake. You need rest." So saying, Uguisu reached over and plucked the laptop from her hands. "In fact, let's get started on that break now."

"Yes, ma'am," the aspiring novelist sighed despondently. So much for getting ahead of schedule today.

"Hmm." The older woman said no more, merely busied herself with the contents of her data pad. With black hair pulled up in a bun and horn-rimmed spectacles, Uguisu often reminded Michiru of the shinigami Nanao Ise. The two of them had never met in her experience. Still, that air of business-like determination and no-nonsense attitude left her wondering if the two might be related somehow, if separated by a few centuries.

Michiru decided to accept the verdict and lay down on the couch to get some rest. A muted television show was playing on the big-screen TV on the wall, and Ohgawa watched it for a time. They were in a hotel room in Kodaira, Tokyo that had been reserved for her use. Michiru had grown accustomed enough to this domicile that she thought of it as a second home. Moving away from Karakura had been hard for her. Being far from family and friends was nerve-wracking at first. But the tiny traveler now considered herself well-adjusted to the fast-paced life of the big city. True, she felt exhausted all the time and had been experiencing night-sweats lately. But Michiru Ohgawa had never been happier in her entire life. She felt like a baby chick cradled in warm loving hands.

Her meteoric rise would have shocked anyone who knew the timid girl back in high school. After graduation, Michiru's cellphone novel 'Wanderer in Shadows' had been picked up by a publisher and converted into a popular manga whose continued success surprised her each and every day. In fact, Michiru was stunned at how prosperous this whole enterprise had proven to be. Merchandise lines sprang up around the fictional world she had built. Her creation Rania was hailed as an example of a strong female main character and consistently ranked high in polls among readers. It came as both a dismay and a thrill to learn the most beloved male character turned out to be Graff Totholtz, whom she'd never imagined would appeal to female readers as much as he apparently did. The deuteragonists Inglebert and Ulric never even came close to him in terms of popularity. More disturbing still was the small but vociferous portion of the fanbase who seemed to prefer the demon Lohengrin of all people. His presence in visual media always disturbed her, hearkening just a bit too close to the inspiration behind him for her tastes.

The sound of fingers tapping diligently away served to lull Michiru into a doze. As one might expect from her name, Uguisu had been a sports announcer in her youth but moved into talent management after growing dissatisfied with a former label. Her firm, the Sadume Agency, was based in Northern Hokkaido and usually represented athletes. Ohgawa never had much interest in sports herself. But Uguisu was a fan of her work and had sought Michiru out during her senior year of high school. They quickly found common ground, and after graduation the talent agent was only too happy to offer her services in spreading the story of Rania the Romany across Japan. Of course Michiru had known they would get along when Uguisu confirmed that she found the daring Ulric Sterne to be the male protagonist of this tale. She now served as both agent and editor for Michiru's work.

Ishida was here too, of course. He had been accepted at Musashino Art University and dove headfirst into their fashion design curriculum. They were in business together, Uryu using his talents to craft a stunning range of costumes and regalia that were an official part of the 'Wanderer' brand. At her parents' insistence, Michiru also attended college. She was enrolled at Tsuda University and taking two liberal arts classes a semester, which was the most her busy itinerary would allow. Between writing, class, publicity events and a dedicated relationship, it always seemed like there was never enough time in the day. Michiru Ohgawa, the wallflower of Karakura High, had blossomed into perhaps the greatest success story ever to emerge from her hometown.

A cellphone rang, and Uguisu answered. Michiru wondered if she had fallen asleep. Better get as much in… before…

She awoke with a start. Someone was knocking at the door. Upon looking around it was to find an empty room, however a handwritten note was left on the coffee table. Michiru picked it up.

'Wanted to give you two some time alone. Dinner will arrive at 5, and we need to be at the station at least half an hour before recording. Good luck, Author-chan!'

"Michiru?!" a voice called faintly. Remembering the door, Ohgawa sprang up, feeling woozy and tender. When she crossed the room and opened it, Uryu Ishida stood on the other side looking worried. "Are you alright?" he demanded immediately. "I've been knocking for almost a minute!"

At this the young writer smiled and moved gently to embrace him. "I'm fine," she sighed, melting into his presence. "Just tired, so I took a nap."

He hesitated, the alarm from before battling with her words. In the end, though, he relented and returned the embrace. "You work too hard."

"You'll have to take that up with my agent," she chided him jokingly.

"Not likely," he said with a snort. "I swear, that woman never sits still. She's always gone by the time I show up. How many clients does she serve, anyway?"

"Four or five." Michiru only then noticed the dress bag hooked over his shoulder. "Oh!" she exclaimed, all else forgotten. "You brought it! Let me see!"

"As you command," Uryu chuckled and followed her in. She sat down on the couch, twisting and fidgeting in excitement like a preschooler. Ishida stood before her with one hand on the zipper. He paused and threw her a pleased smile. "Do I have your permission to continue?"

"Granted!" she declared happily.

With a flourish he proceeded to draw down the zipper and flung the bag off, revealing his latest creation for her approval.

Michiru could only stare in wonder. She had seen the drawings, and even imagined it in her head for years. But the real thing managed to make all that pale.

It was a wedding dress, fashioned of dark green fabric with designs in red thread woven into the chest and arms.

"Oh!" she breathed with wonder. Michiru came forward to examine this marvel. It was an off-the-shoulder design, transparent bodice patterned with designs like curling vines for modesty's sake. The inspiration for that part hailed mainly from the belly-dancing costume Rukia wore long ago which practically started this whole affair, but no one else had to know that. This same pattern repeated on the sleeves. A choker with a gold ornament draped over the hanger, while the gown split in a train down the front to reveal the inner dress of solid black.

Michiru drank it all in, then turned eyes shining with pride on Uryu. "It's perfect!"

"I was worried you wouldn't approve." He laid his masterpiece down on the coffee table, allowing them to admire it together. The tailor draped an arm around her shoulder, his craftsman's eye critically examining their handiwork. "I'd never worked with a fabric so expensive before. My teachers had a few suggestions that really helped, though. They were almost as excited by this project as I was. It's counting towards my grade, actually, so I'll need to take it back afterwards. I hope that's okay."

"No problem." She shook her head. "The photo shoot isn't until this weekend. After tonight my schedule's pretty much free 'til then."

His chin nuzzled her head. "That's good. You need your rest."

They stood there for a while in silent appreciation for their shared dreams. Then Uryu said, "I received a call from Kurosaki yesterday. He couldn't get your number. We're both invited to the birthday."

"I can't believe it's been a year," Ohgawa sighed. "Did you see the last picture? He's so big!"

"Kurosaki insists he'll start walking soon. I don't know if that's early or not. I could ask… my father."

"We should visit him too while we're there. It'll be nice to see everyone." A tension had gripped Uryu's frame in the last few seconds. She rested her head in the crook of his arm for a while before speaking. "How are things?"

"Quiet," he replied.

There was no need to ask what she meant. After the attack on Karakura and the birth of Rukia's baby, things had been peaceful, spiritually speaking. Michiru had not seen anyone from Soul Society in nearly a year unless you counted Rukia. It was almost possible to believe that part of her life was just another story she concocted, a fantasy made up by a lonely, ordinary teenage girl seeking some excitement. The whole thing seemed very bizarre in the glow of memory, and she almost found herself doubting such things could exist. Hollows, shinigami, gods and demons? Only one person in her day-to-day affairs now would understand something like that, and he was standing right next to her. This secret they kept from the members of their new life. Writing helped, but sometimes Michiru felt an absurd need to just blurt out the whole story to anyone who might listen, be it fellow students at university or random strangers.

I know it's real. They're out there, somewhere. The ghosts. The dead. Watching us. Loving and hating us, even at the same time. Haunting the living.

Every now and then she caught a glimpse of movement from the corner of her eye that she convinced herself was a shinigami, but when she looked there was never anything there. Surely in a big city like Tokyo there must be many death gods assigned to keep watch, yet not once in the past year had she ever spotted any. Uryu hadn't mentioned it either, and she wondered if he still plied his bow as a Quincy in the defense of lost spirits from time to time.

It's easy to forget, when you're living this well, that the world is more dangerous than most people realize. It could happen at any moment… the return of the nightmare. Is it really okay for us to act like nothing's wrong? Are we allowed to be happy, knowing what we do?

There's more to life than misery and fear. There's making beauty, sharing joy. I just want to live with my fair share of happiness. That isn't a crime. Right?

"I'm happy," she said aloud, almost like a wish.

Uryu didn't reply. He just held her tight. They looked at the beauty formed by their being together, and for now, it was all they needed.

Noboru drove his foot into Soifon's kidney, only to catch his breath at the lack of resistance. Damn! Usutsemi again! I couldn't tell! How does she do that?!

Even as the speed clone disappeared, the real thing revealed herself with a windmill kick that sent the boy smashing through a wall and into the street below. Before hitting the ground an incantation was already tripping from his tongue. "HADŌ 63: RAIKOHOU!"

Now clear of the building, the glyphs he had inscribed in the four cardinal directions beforehand activated. An explosion of sound and electricity blew the three-story wooden structure to splinters. Score! he exulted at the sight of his triumph.

Something dropped beside him with a thud. When he turned his head, he found it to be a human hand.

Whoah! Did we just…?

The sight proved so chilling he could only stare. And this was why he never saw the kick coming.

Upon recovering, the shinobi youth groggily sat up. Noboru touched the side of his head and winced at the resulting pain. A slight swish of fabric later, and he looked up to find Soifon standing over him, arms crossed behind her back wearing a coldly disparaging expression.

"I know, I let my guard down. But at least this time I didn't black out!" he retorted to her unspoken disappointment. "And I thought you said no decoys?"

Wordlessly she held up her left arm, which now ended in a stump dripping blood. Noboru blanched. Soifon merely lifted an eyebrow. "I did tell you this run would be advanced," she said, sounding more disappointed in his horrified reaction than the failure.

With a curse he sprang up and ran to retrieve her severed hand. When he returned the ninja woman had already knelt down. She made no move as he began a spell to restore her self-inflicted injury. This too was part of their training.

I'll never get used to how little this lady cares about herself.

You and me both.

The repair job took under a minute. Soifon flexed her reattached fingers experimentally, then without a word of gratitude she produced two bamboo tubes and handed one over to him. The implication was obvious. Training was over. Time for a rest.

Noboru swished the water around his mouth and spat it out, grimacing at seeing blood mixed in. He tested a tooth with his tongue to determine if it might be about to fall out. Nope. Pretty secure.

The shinobi-in-training observed their surroundings under the hot afternoon sun, just in case she decided to quiz him on it out of the blue. The 17th District of Eastern Rukongai had only been abandoned fully a few months ago. As such one could still detect faint traces of the relocated populace by smell alone. An empty restaurant for hungry death gods was discernible by the lingering aroma of fried food and alcohol. A second story home was owned by a lady who clearly loved her perfume, perhaps resulting from the refuse and mud drifting out of a pigpen behind the building. The stench proved overwhelming.

"You took much longer to lose this time, waka-sama."

"Thanks," the Shihoin prince grunted. Soifon put her drink to one side and began tending his wounds. He flinched away with a scowl. "Just leave it. I like the ache."

"That is unacceptable. You must look your best for the lady this evening."

It came as no surprise to learn Soifon knew about his plans. But that she actually cared enough to acknowledge it? Now that came as a shock. "Isn't she a shinigami healer? I'll ask her to do it. Might be a good way to get to know one another."

"That would reflect poorly on the clan." And with that the matter was settled, at least as far as she was concerned.

"This is stupid," he asserted firmly. "Why are we bothering trying to hook me up on a date when there are living catastrophes lurking on the other side of reality? I should be using this time for training! Papa said we could start in together, even!"

Soifon looked him over while applying a salve to his ankle. "This is also important, to say nothing of perfectly normal. As heir to the Shihoin, you are compelled to wed and produce offspring."

Sounds like the kind of romantic novel she would write.

"Wow, sounds like a romantic novel, Feng." The young thief dropped on his back with a groan, then cast a sharp look back at his vassal as a thought occurred to him. "You don't date," he spoke in almost accusing tones. "Why isn't it important for you?"

To his surprise, the shinobi captain actually crooked a smile at that. A hard, mean smile, but a smile nonetheless. "Mine is a minor house. I am not important like you. If all I leave behind when I die is a service record, then that is the greatest testament imaginable."

Her liege lord leveraged himself up on his elbows wearing a sardonic look. "Come on, Feng! If you don't put yourself out there, where are my children's protectors going to come from? And my grandchildren's? The Feng line has to continue!"

"Hmph," she retorted, concentrating on binding his foot.

"I'm serious! I know a lot of guys who'd love to see you naked! There's that dummy from Leopard–!"

"N-NONSENSE!" Soifon spluttered.

She got no further, as a sword's edge pressed against her throat. Her eyes narrowed and she glared at the grinning Noboru.

"You let your guard down," he spoke teasingly.

Her black eyes flashed. "Indeed. Well played, waka-sama."

And then she broke his foot.

A few minutes later, after the resulting and completely necessary fight was resolved, Soifon set off down the street carrying Noboru on her back, at his royal insistence. He knew this cheeky behavior would make their next training session an absolute nightmare for him, but that was in the future. For now he simply resolved to enjoy the ride along with a small sense of satisfaction. She was right. He had been getting better.

"Hey, Feng," he said casually. "What do you look for in a man?"

"Openings," she said so fast he could have sworn it was intended as a joke.

"No, I'm being serious." He rested his head against her back. "What would you want the person you marry to be like?"

"I've never thought about it."

Noboru frowned skeptically. "Does that mean you wouldn't care, or you've really never thought about getting married?"

"Both."

This was starting to get depressing. Most conversations with Soifon were. He gave a dispirited sigh and closed his eyes. "Don't worry, Feng. I'll find you a good husband."

"That would be a waste of your time, young master," she asserted with typical disinterest. "Such things are beneath the head of a Great House."

"Oh, please," he snorted. "From what I can tell, there's little else they think about!" A grin split his mouth, and the mischievous prince scooted a little higher on her back to whisper in her ear. "Hey, Feng! Wanna know a secret?"

"I already do."

As head of the Onmitsukidō, that was without a doubt an understatement. But he continued regardless. "Ganju and I were hanging out at his place yesterday, and guess who came by the house?" He waited for her to respond, but when interest was not forthcoming, Noboru gleefully reported anyway. "Lord Arashi!"

"That is no secret," she informed him. "Katsurou Arashi has made it clear he bears no further ill-will towards the Shiba Clan. And what he does with his spare time should not unduly concern you."

"But he brought gifts! Like, in boxes, even! Real treasure chests! And he was so pale I thought his soul utter might be activated! Kukaku got red in the face when we told her, I'd never seen her that angry. She told Ganju to hit the track and me to go with her! You get what I'm saying?"

"Yes. Lord Arashi is courting the head of the Shiba." Before he could comment on her being so quick on the uptake regarding this, she added, "This matter was already brought to our attention by the person you will be meeting this evening. She had a similar overexuberant attitude as well." Soifon looked back at him briefly. "I would advise against delving any further into the affair."

"So you do think it's an affair!" he crowed triumphantly.

She gave a grunt and turned away. Noboru laughed, already calculating his score. Feng might keep track of his win-loss record for training, but he had his own tally: namely, how many times he could get the prickly captain's goat.

"I mean it, Feng. I'll see you happily married yet, just wait and see."

The way her muscles tensed told Noboru she had just thwarted an urge to stab him. He chalked up another victory, and wore a smile the whole ride back home.

A child happily chasing a butterfly came grinding to a halt upon finding herself before a tall glowering man in white. She turned and fled instantly.

Captain-Commander Byakuya Kuchiki scowled as both his wife and Captain Urahara enjoyed a chuckle at his expense. Without a word he swept off, forcing them all to follow.

"As I was saying," Kisuke smiled sunnily. "The numbers are encouraging. We continue to see steady if small growth to our forces, while the enemy remains in disarray. Many shinigami who experienced grievous injury during the war have returned to duty, and new recruits continue to appear. Even taking into account Tiger Company, the overall casualty rate remains so low that we've managed to reach 70% strength in terms of previous manpower."

"Due in no small part to my body armor!" Mayuri Kurotsuchi pointed out with smug satisfaction as they strolled along.

"We weren't in danger of forgetting, Mayuri," the captain of Ibis Squad sighed. His former research subordinate just chuckled while smoking a pipe, blue smoke leaking from his lips to trail behind him. The dour Lieutenant Kurotsuchi walked between her father and captain in the role of mediator. Saijin Komamura marched a few paces behind them along with Chojiro Sasakibe and Renji Abarai in his position as Siamese Company's captain.

Byakuya noticed the girl from before had returned and now hid behind a tree eyeing them curiously. Abruptly he turned and walked straight out into the patch of reeds bordering the lake, conjuring a supply of reishi below him so that he appeared to be walking on water, leaving only vanishing ripples behind. The others did so as well, Sasakibe graciously performing the task for the sake of the powerless Komamura. Their reflections followed them across the mirror surface of the lake. The child came scrambling out of hiding to watch them go, seemingly distraught. However a tiny glowing green dragon popped up near her head, and quickly forgetting about the strange conference she took off in pursuit of its zig-zag flight, laughing happily.

Stone-faced, the Captain-Commander lowered a discrete finger and clasped his hands in his sleeves. The others gave no indication of having spotted the magic being performed, but Yoruichi hugged his arm closer to show her approval. She knew he was thinking about their son.

"What news on Hueco Mundo?"

Captain Abarai jerked up. He had been restless since joining them, and now looked to Saijin. The former shinigami nodded in encouragement. Clearing his throat, Renji said, "We talked with the Vaizard and it confirmed our suspicions. The dead zone shrank at some point. It's smaller than before. Nel… I mean, Lieutenant Odelschvank thinks this isn't the first time it's happened, which would explain the appearance of that huge forest near the edge of the zone. According to her, there was no sign of it on her previous trips there with Aizen."

"So sometime after her removal from the Espada, the perimeter of the dead zone grew smaller," Urahara mused.

"And again since the assault on Lady Kuchiki," Mayuri added.

Mention of his sister troubled Byakuya, though he gave no outward sign. As if sensing the change in topic, Chojiro spoke up, perhaps also to prevent an argument from flaring between the two perverse geniuses. "The Hollow who led the initial attack on Lieutenant Kuchiki, whom we have codenamed Tone Death, has not reappeared in either Hueco Mundo or the mortal realm. We believe her to be a subordinate of Grimmjow Jaguerjaques, as Captain Abarai has confirmed she was the one who injured him during the capture of the lead Exequias. In all likelihood Tone Death sought to avenge her leader by the attack on Lieutenant Kuchiki, and was not involved with the appearance of the Wild Hunt."

"It's certainly one explanation for why they would target Rukia at that time," Urahara speculated.

Mayuri was quick with a retort. "I can posit several more credible reasons why such an assassination attempt would take place."

"Send a thief to catch a thief," Kisuke murmured under his breath.

"Do you have a frog in your throat, Kisuke-taichou?" his painted counterpart spit acidly. "I have the perfect tonic to treat that on my person."

"Nemu-san," Kisuke smiled warmly at the deadpan lieutenant. "Can you help your doddering parent find the way home? I think it's time for his nap." He draped an arm around her shoulders in companionable fashion. She did not appear to register the remark or his close proximity.

"Nemu, don't speak to him!" Her father grabbed her roughly by the elbow to pull her away. Urahara seized the other arm.

"She's my lieutenant, Mayuri!"

"She's my dau… creation! Have a care how you treat other people's works!"

Some might have found the sight of two masterminds playing tug-of-war with the blank-faced doll humorous. Byakuya was not one of them. A glance back at Komamura indicated he should proceed regardless of their bickering.

"Captain-Commander," the dog-man raised his head and spoke clearly. "We found no trace of the Wild Hunt's continued existence over the past year whether in terms of sightings or evidence of attacks. I have traveled with both companies stationed in Hueco Mundo as well as the Vaizard. Not once did we detect the Hunt's presence. While I am leery to entertain hopes that might prove false once more, in my opinion, there is a very high chance that your son and the Quincy did succeed in destroying Cernunnos permanently."

Byakuya considered. Komamura's word held great weight in this area. He knew more about the Hunt than anyone. To hear him express even the remotest hope was telling indeed. So on all fronts, the news was good. The Hollows had proven leaderless and within their ability to deal with. Nirvana remained closed, and their enemies had lost several powerful and troubling allies: the Wild Hunt, the vasto lorde Ulquiorra Schiffer, the Espada Grimmjow Jaguerjaques, and the traitor Vaizard Rōjurō Ōtorobashi. Even Ichigo Kurosaki's Hollow was removed from consideration as a result of the disturbance a year ago. By contrast their side had suffered no major losses. His tenure as leader of the Gotei 7 was proving remarkably successful.

If you believe that, then they have you right where they want you.

I am not blind as to the scope of our enemies. Nor will I allow myself to entertain the notion that they have exhausted their available options.

Those two jabbering scientists remain ignorant of it, but you know there is another reason why Rukia and her child might have been targeted.

Grandfather's prophecy. If Unohana somehow learned of it, then she has cause to believe a Kuchiki might prove to be her deadliest enemy. Aizen would spare no expense to remove us if that were the case.

You still haven't told your wife about this.

A prophecy that might be more self-fulfilling than anything else? That is not sufficient excuse to give her cause to worry. I already dread what might befall Noboru enough for both of us.

And yet you still harbor the boy-captain like he is precious treasure.

If there is any chance that Hitsugaya is the threat to Aizen my grandfather foretold, then I will accept no risk that he may be prematurely lost. Do you disapprove?

Hardly. Your decisions in these matters are commendable. Should that not prove to be the case, rest assured, you shall hear about it from me.

I look forward to the lesson.

"You need to take a look at this."

"Hm?" He turned to regard Yoruichi, who smiled beside him with gleaming golden eyes.

She gestured out over the forested lake country. At the far shore plus spirits poled giant lily pads through the reeds, pointing out enormous blue herons and giant multi-colored toads to their children. Great rainbow-scaled trout leapt from the depths to flash in the sun before diving back in, and dragonflies circled like flying jewels overhead. The afterlife known as the Field of Reeds was scant on human habitations, unlike the other fabricated planes now populated by the denizens of Soul Society. But it had an appeal that brought many of their residents here to wile away their time in contemplation of an idealized nature which never existed in their earthly lives. There were no stinging insects, no rampaging animals. By all accounts, this was a paradise.

"You've done good work," Yoruichi sought to reassure him. "You've held everything together, and made great strides in rectifying the faults that previously existed. Take some time to acknowledge that. Live a little, my sweet-sour man!"

He studied their wards at careless play, unaware of their caretaker's examination. Then the Kuchiki Lord gave a small nod. "I am aware of it." Then, in an attempt to be more open with the woman he loved, "And I do not regret what this cost us."

Minor souls, even other shinigami, might be permitted to believe the peace would last for a while yet. But they did not know whom they were dealing with. Aizen and Unohona had not given up their ambition to rule over all. This was simply a lull in the fighting. When true war came again, and he was certain it would, victory could hang on how well he had arranged his forces.

But, as Yoruichi said, now was the time to appreciate everything that had gone right.

A splash came from behind him, and Byakuya turned to find Kisuke Urahara and Mayuri Kurotsuchi flailing around in the pond shouting and dunking one another. Like children.

"Ah, our trusted allies," Yoruichi sighed affectionately at his side. And without another word, she dove right in and began happily splashing both the sodden scientists.

What do those fools think they are doing?

Living. We should follow their example.

Hmph. As you will.

Byakuya sat down cross-legged on his conjured support. At the merest flicker of his eyes, previously unnoticed attendants appeared and laid out the tools of his craft. Pausing to gather his creative energies, the master calligrapher began to compose an artful poem devoted to nature and water.

They spent the better part of an hour in undisturbed pursuit of nothing important. At Yoruichi's insistence, Renji Abarai was reluctantly dragged into joining them in a chicken fight, with him as Mayuri's support and her acting as Kisuke's second. Nemu served the roles of scorekeeper and referee, while Chojiro and Saijin took this opportunity to catch up with one another, strolling at ease along the lake surface.

Byakuya played the part of idle artist because he knew it would please Yoruichi. But never once during that time did he forget what they were up against. Peace never lasted. It was the way of the world. And they faced an enemy who might never die.

After work the park was usually less crowded, and Rukia took advantage of this to take the baby for an outing. She tended not to come at a regular time every day, which dissuaded that many people from getting to know her. Like it or not she remained a shinigami in the world of the living, and not inclined to establishing strong connections with regular people. Despite this, Rukia had come to appreciate certain mortal foibles concerning childcare, the most obvious being a strong worry about her newborn's safety. The fear of some Hollow or unsavory human attempting to steal her child left her more nervous than might be considered proper. As such she always cast a low-level tracking spell on him before heading out.

Not like we couldn't handle any human that tried.

It is simply a precaution.

Fair enough. Just don't become one of those moms.

When she arrived, other parents with children of various ages from toddler to preschool were already in attendance. To her relief only one person present noticed and recognized her. As she wheeled the stroller next to the sandbox, a young mother named Hanako looked up from fussing with her baby girl's clothes. "Hello, Rukia-san," she nodded. "We haven't seen you for a while."

"Work has kept me busy." She unbuckled the baby and set him free. Immediately he got down to business, snatching up handfuls of sand and mashing them into lumps. In no time he was surrounded by a range of low hills. The sight always made her wonder what he hoped to accomplish with this.

Not to be deterred, Hanako came over and examined all around the park. "I understand. We won't be coming here much longer ourselves. My husband is expecting a promotion that will take him to the head offices. He's worked very hard to get there."

"You must be proud."

"Of course. We're quite blessed." Then, when Rukia failed to continue the conversation, she added, "I don't believe I've ever met your husband. What did you say he does for a living?"

Rukia smiled and waved a stuffed lion before her son's face, distracting him for just long enough to snatch it to himself before resuming his self-imposed quarrying. "It never came up."

"You look so young, Rukia-san. I'd never guess you were a mother at your age. How long ago did you graduate?"

"Over a decade," she responded mysteriously.

Hanako appeared uncertain if that were meant as a joke or not. "Has he started walking yet? Your boy… ah…"

"Shotoku. And no, he hasn't."

This information appeared to mollify Hanako, and she added helpfully, "Well, don't be concerned about that. My Shuya learned to walk at ten months, but she's a go-getter. Like her father. I'm going to take her on the swings. It was good to see you again, Rukia-san!" Having satisfied herself somewhat and not waiting for an answer, she picked up the little girl and proceeded to do just that.

"Thanks for driving her off," another woman spoke. Rukia looked up to see a few parents standing nearby express their own relief through smiles and grateful nods. She accepted their well wishes with a small grin and they returned to their own conversations. An empty bench not far off looked inviting. A silent look around was acknowledged with unspoken assurance from her fellow mothers; if they spotted anyone else's baby about to eat something they shouldn't, they would intervene to prevent a trip to the hospital.

With that Rukia stood up and maneuvered the stroller over to the bench where she took a seat. Like all the other mothers, her attention returned at regular intervals to her child to make certain he was still there and not in any danger. Otherwise she peered around the park. It was a lovely summer day. A local police officer stood at attention not far off, stone-faced and diligent, ready to answer any disruption of his patrol area's tranquility. A businessman sat at another bench with his coat off and shirtsleeves rolled up, head back as if concerned only with enjoying the sunshine. Some teen girls of high school age were laughing in a huddle while clustering around their phones.

The sight of them reminded Rukia how not long ago she herself had been a public school student. Though brief, the experience had proven singularly worthwhile. Ichigo aside, her friendships forged among the student body in the mortal realm were proving as precious as any she made at the Shinigami Academy. Perhaps youth found common ground with those who shared the same troubles? All her shinigami schoolfriends still alive were lieutenants or higher. And her human friends had also experienced good fortune in the last year. Ishida and Ohgawa remained together, a fact she took some small pride in for having facilitated, however slightly. They had moved to the nation's capital to continue their respective education and careers. Tatsuki Arisawa attended a college in the northernmost regions. Rumor had it she was being courted by representatives of her homeland's martial arts community to participate in some bi-annual international sporting competition. Everyone she asked seemed to consider it a great honor. Keigo Asano went to the same prestigious university as his older sister. Kunieda Ryō remained distant and, in large part, unreachable. The same could be said for Yasutora Sado, which was odd, considering how close he and Ichigo had been. As for Chizuru…

When exactly did you find the time to collect so many friends, princess?

That speaks better of them than me.

So demure. I like that you're loved! And love in return. You should let them know it more often.

Some of them I can't. Kaien. Yumichika. Kon…

"Which one is yours?"

Rukia hadn't even noticed the woman now sitting at the other end of the bench approach. She turned her head. "He's…" Her words cut off in a sharp inhalation.

There beside her was none other than Retsu Unohana.

With a shout of joy, Rukia leapt forward and hugged her.

Anyone watching would have been hard-pressed to describe the older woman's reaction to this. She made no move, such that Rukia might as well have been embracing a statue. But her face shifted, passing so quickly through successive emotions that closely resembled surprise, fury and relief. In the end she lapsed into a tranquil expression which left no indication what the wearer might be thinking.

Yet her arm came around the small girl, as though in comfort.

All of a sudden Rukia realized what she was doing and jerked back with a horrified gasp. "AH! Unohana-sama…! Please forgive me, I don't know what came over me then, it was such a surprise…! You…"

She was breathing very fast and not in control of her wits. When Rukia sought to summon a measure of Kuchiki discipline, it proved in vain. The sight of this person was simply too much of a rush to ever subsume the emotions that came gushing out. Relief; awe; deference; confusion; ebullience. All that and more. It felt as if she had been reunited with a long-lost parent.

For her part, Unohana displayed a level of self-control that was the exact opposite of the flustered mother. Both imposing and eminently approachable, she presented an air of reserved maturity made all the more sublime by her bewitching beauty. A long white overcoat fell midway to the ankle, of an obviously expensive cut with gray fur trim around the collar. She wore brown leather gloves and high-heeled boots of the same material. The captain's hair was caught up in a clasp at the back of the neck crowned by a sable fur hat. She was obviously not dressed for such hot weather, but it gave her no discomfort. As usual, Unohana Retsu was the very picture of serenity.

Rukia's face had gone red. She brought both hands to her mouth and uttered an embarrassed laugh, unable to help herself. Tears fell down her cheeks, and at last the wonderstruck shinigami just exclaimed happily, "You're alive!"

Fingers clasped in her lap, Unohana cast those glorious eyes down with a smile, as though her sudden appearance here were no great thing. For some reason, Rukia had the strangest feeling that they were both embarrassed at this situation.

Nothing more was said between them. Rukia looked around briefly, mind awhirl. She saw her son attempting to help another boy scoop sand into a bucket, unconcerned with what was taking place behind him. Was this really happening? Unohana Retsu… the legendary captain of the Gotei 13's Fourth Division ever since its founding! Lost during the Autumn War, she had sacrificed herself to keep Aizen Sosuke and his fellow archfiends trapped in another dimension.

"Forgive me," Unohana spoke softly.

"Eh?" she blinked.

"It's just…" And here the ageless matron covered her eyes, though she continued to smile. "You took me by surprise, Rukia-chan. I never expected you to react so to me."

"Please forgive my outburst!" she hastily strove to correct her lapse. Her brother would be distressed to learn she had behaved so emotionally towards a pillar of the realm. "I in no way meant to embarrass you with such a display!"

Unohana waved a hand. "No, no, it is me. I have felt so… lonely of late, no matter how many people with whom I surround myself. It is not their fault, but… knowing what you and I mean to each other… your openness took me by surprise. I fear you have made me… happy?"

There was a strange halting quality to her speech which Rukia could not remember hearing before, despite having spent little time in the captain's company. Now she was thoroughly confused. "Unohana-sama?"

The goddess turned her face away. But after a while, she spoke. "I exist in the world so differently now. And I no longer understand myself as I once did. It is… frightening. Sometimes I see you all as automatons moving about animated by outside forces, with nothing on the inside. Other times I perceive everything you do and why you do it so clearly, it shocks me such a simple thing could ever have confused me before. But I do know… that I still love you, in spite of everything. And if we just sit like this, without words, without swords… maybe the answer will come to us. So that when we must stand and act again, it will work out for everyone."

Real concern stole over Rukia then. Perhaps it was strange for someone as small as her to feel anxious for such a powerful being, but Retsu honestly sounded as though she might be in trouble somehow. Could she have been injured escaping from her tormentors?

They looked at one another then. Abruptly Unohana leaned closer and cupped her cheeks between gentle hands. Rukia's lavender eyes flew wide, unnerved and thrilled at the same time. She had never been tended by the healer captain, yet according to legend her very touch could put a patient at ease no matter how severe their injuries. There must be some truth to it, for she never wanted her to let go.

For her part Unohana seemed to examine the young death god thoughtfully. One hand moved to brush through her hair in a searching fashion. Then she gazed intently into her eyes. There was an arresting quality to her gaze such that Rukia felt transfixed, unable to breathe or move. Those dark blue eyes became her whole world so that she could focus on nothing else. It was as if another realm was opening before her, the path laid out in darkest depths, and she need but step forth upon it to begin a new journey.

"Ah… that explains it."

The spell was lifted. Unohana let her go, leaving Rukia flushed and dazed.

"It makes sense," Retsu said in distant tones as she stared up at the sky. "A balm, a reprieve. She did this for you. All of you. Aizen thought something was strange. Perhaps it never occurred to him you might wish to forget. I half suspected him of keeping something from me, but… this much is clear. How kind of her… my dearest Isane."

Mention of Aizen's name left her speechless for a time. But when her mysterious visitor said no more, Rukia felt compelled to ask. "Unohana-sama, are you well? Have you already contacted Soul Society? Lady Isane… that is, Kotetsu-taichou must know you've returned. Shall I send word to her for you?"

"No, do not trouble yourself. Let them go on without me for a while." And here she uttered a strangely empty laugh. "Listen to me, dodging my responsibility. Perhaps I simply want a chance to live as well. Just like you, Rukia-chan. Oh," and here she drew a deep breath of the sweet summer air and sighed. "How it… hurts…"

Unohana's head shifted slightly, and a tear slipped past her lashes. It dripped down the front of her coat. Where the teardrop passed, it left a vivid red stain on the fabric. Like blood.

"What is his name?"

Rukia looked up, shaken in spite of herself. "Pardon?"

"Your son." Unohana gazed tranquilly across the meadow. "Tell me his name."

Shock stole over her. She had completely forgotten about the baby in the last few minutes! Yet when she sought to find him, her maternal anxieties were relieved by the sight of the little angel still playing with his friends. It made her smile, releasing Rukia from all potential grief. "He's called Kurosaki Shotoku."

"Shotoku Kurosaki." Here Unohana smiled bright as a doting mother herself. "Splendid."

"He loves to build things," Rukia sought to explain. "Ichigo says there was a mighty prince of Japan known for erecting monuments, so the title suits him. Everyone uses it."

Wind stirred their clothes.

"Title?"

An edge to her voice made the Kuchiki princess shiver. She looked at Retsu uncertainly.

"Yes. His real name is Kujaku Kuchiki. We call him Jaku."

The mistress of sorcery didn't respond at first.

Then she said, "You are afraid, aren't you?"

Rukia couldn't say precisely why, but it was true. "Yes."

Unohana made no move for a time. "Why…?" the word escaped her mouth in a whisper. "Why did you name him so?"

"I'm not really sure." Nervously Rukia brushed a stray hair back from her forehead. She couldn't say what might have disturbed them both. "Nii-sama just felt it important at the time that we give him the Kuchiki name. But it's meant to be a secret. He has his father's surname for legal reasons in the mortal realm, so that no one pries too deeply into my past. But to our loved ones… family and friends… he is a Kuchiki. As for his given name…" And here old sadness crept into her words. She swallowed against a terrible grief mixed with the creeping dread which hadn't gone away. "It was to honor my dear friend. So that he would be remembered, here and in Soul Society."

She fell silent. Unohana held herself still, then pressed the back of a delicate hand to her temple, as though pained. There was no emotion to her voice when she spoke next. "I believe I understand. Your instincts… your true self… are compelling you. The magic prevents them from being understood, yet all the same, they exist inside. And right now, they must be howling so loud…" She reached up a hand to hover by one ear. "I can hear it… your soul… screaming at you… trapped in that nothing body… you are just like me, Rukia-chan. Two people, existing at the same time. At war for your survival. Only you are unaware of it."

Unohana had turned so that they faced one another once more. What Rukia saw almost caused her to shrink, for the woman's right eye was black and empty. Like a hole in her skull.

"Do you wish for me to awaken you?"

"Unohana-sama?" she whispered again, frightened anew at this unwholesome aspect.

A blink, and the pit went back to normal. "Look there," Unohana said, pointing.

Rukia did so, and took a quick breath, for not ten feet away little Jaku had placed his hand on the other baby's shoulder and used it to push himself to both feet. His tiny support twisted in obvious protest at this use before getting back to digging, and Kujaku swayed for a bit, trying to find his balance. Then upon growing steady, he looked back at her, and gave a delighted smile, beaming so bright.

Before she could act, Unohana held out her arms.

"Come," she spoke softly. "Come to your mother, little one."

The baby turned, and Rukia felt a little lurch of new fear. With it came pride, and hope. Was today to be the day? His chubby little leg took a step forward, letting go of his support as he did. One foot after another followed as her child finally began to walk in a jerky, halting gait. All of a sudden he fell forward, and Rukia wanted to leap across the distance to save him. But somehow she felt rooted to this spot. And the baby had caught himself on his hands. To her delight, he slowly came back up.

"Come," Unohana whispered like a charm of protection. "You can make it."

He did so, stomping along, wobbling and uncertain, but perfect all the same. And his great big smile was such a joy that Rukia couldn't help but grin back. My boy!

"Come to me…"

Sudden fear caused her to flinch. She looked to the side. There sat Unohana, smiling as she offered encouragement. That pale lovely face was now a bloodless mask, and beneath it lurked…

"Come to ME…!"

Kujaku held up his own hands, little fingers clutching as he tottered towards those outstretched arms. He made a happy sound.

"COME!"

A cold gust of wind snapped across the park. Unohana's hair clasp split, glossy black snakes uncoiling to their full length. They spread before Rukia like a fan, the sorceress' profile partly visible through the flying strands.

The face revealed behind them belonged to a Hollow.

Without thinking Rukia reached up, grasped the horror's head and snapped its neck with a sharp twist.

Before them little Jaku stumbled and fell backwards. The body flopped to the ground between them. The babe looked up, his face in tears as he began to howl. Horror flooded Rukia as she came back to herself. She grabbed the wailing child and held him struggling to her breast, then looked down at the corpse.

Unohana's head was at a grotesque angle, a look of slack surprise on those lovely features. She did not emerge from the body; no spirit manifested at all. For a moment something black wriggled beneath it, then was gone.

Someone screamed.

Rukia looked up to see Hanako pointing at her. The terror in the woman's face was awful. Other parents took note, spying the body at the same time. The policeman patrolling the park came running over, and soon they were surrounded by people.

"What happened?!"

"She fainted! Call an ambulance!"

"Make way! Make way!"

"SHE KILLED HER!"

Rukia flinched and clutched her child protectively. Hanako knelt by her own infant, desperately trying to make her accusation heard to other parents. Some of them looked at Rukia with uncertainty. The officer was demanding to know what happened as several people crouched by Unohana's side. Jaku was still screaming, tears pouring down his face, and now other children's wails joined him. Rukia stared all around, lost.

Rukia… RUN!

She almost obeyed her soul cutter's urgent command. But then a collective gasp went through the crowd, and they clustered back fearfully, leaving a wide space around the body. Thanks to this Rukia had an unobstructed view as the remains began to change. Hair and skin faded away, leaving only a smooth faceless construct lacking any distinguishing characteristics. A gigai, she realized.

One young man crouched down and edged nearer. He reached out a cautious hand to touch it, only to jerk back instantly when the doll cracked. Its eggshell-thin skin caved in, revealing emptiness beneath. Then the whole thing collapsed, crushed by the weight of this world. In moments it had dissolved away, leaving nothing behind but an empty set of clothes.

People were muttering to one another as though trying to agree upon what just happened. No one seemed certain what to make of this. Rukia was equally confused.

The police officer eventually demanded they all go about their business. Apparently he had come to the conclusion there was nothing untoward going on, or at least nothing that could be explained. It was eerie how some of the other parents looked at her, especially Hanako, so Rukia wasted no further time. She put Jaku in his stroller and set off without another word. No one tried to stop her from leaving. Shaken, the young woman headed quickly home. The baby fell asleep halfway there.

Upon arrival, she immediately called her brother.

The creature's eyes were like lamps, shining in the darkness and casting a beam of light bright as the sun across the darkened woods. Xiomara covered Rania with her body. She could feel the girl trembling beneath her. Despite wearing no clothes, the brown-skinned Amazon remained still as a hidden deer. When the hellish searchlights moved towards them, she ducked her head and let it wash over them without moving.

Even with her eyes shut, she swore she could feel the beams linger over her, as if debating. A strong desire to leap up and go racing off filled her which she struggled to resist. Flight would do no good against this enemy. Not now, while she was encumbered by the girl. So she waited, praying with all her might that her glamor would be enough to protect them.

After a time, the glow beyond her eyelids grew dimmer. Sensitive ears detected the sound of footfalls swishing through the snow. After several minutes, Xiomara risked looking up. To her relief, the glowing figure was moving away from them through the forest. Once she was certain they were out of danger, she sat up. "Alright," she whispered. "It's safe."

Wrapped in a cloak, Rania got to her knees. She too stared after the departing figure. Turning back to Xiomara, the Gypsy girl colored slightly at her unclothed state but otherwise gave no comment. Nudity was not the taboo amongst her people as it was the Christians. Still, to see a woman as magnificent as this in all her glory couldn't help but excite interest. Were it not for what they had just been through, this might rank as the most arousing experience of her short life. And speaking of which…

"What was that?" the pale-skinned waif whispered as the wind blew her hair about.

Xiomara peered past her into the night without blinking. "The Burning Man." Standing up, she offered Rania a hand. Once back on their feet the foreign beauty signed for her to follow, also indicating they shouldn't talk for now. She then transformed back into a deer and began leading the way. With that they set off.

After an hour of traveling under the moon, her four-footed guide crested a snowbound hill and cocked her tapered head. Oval-shaped ears flickered from side to side in search of danger. The girl joined her and rested a hand against the warm flank, marveling not for the first time at the strange powers this woman exhibited. Xiomara might be under the same affliction as herself; bound to the powers of darkness. Yet there was something undeniably… natural about her. Like she belonged to this world, and was welcome everywhere she went in it. To a Wanderer, that state of being was only partially obtainable.

At last Xiomara spotted something and took off, slowing her pace for Rania's sake. After a few minutes of creeping through the snowy woods they came upon a cave in a hillock surrounded by boulders. Here the sylvan nymph led them. Once out of the cold, they found a small supply of firewood stacked against a wall alongside the remains of a campfire. Clearly they were not the first to seek shelter here. Xiomara resumed human form and got to work building a blaze to warm them. In no time they sat near a crackling campfire.

Rania gazed into the burning depths, remembering the horrific fate she had narrowly escaped. Were it not for Xiomara, that denizen of hell would have spotted her for sure. The fear she felt at first seeing it returned full force, and she looked over at her companion. "I didn't sense its approach. Normally the Graff's forces provoke a response in me. Could it be the curse is weakening?"

Golden eyes shone in the firelight as they fastened on her, causing Rania to sweat. There was still much about Xiomara she did not know. But her knowledge of their enemy had proven beyond reproach. And now was no exception. "The Burning Man is not a class of fiend like those you have seen before. He is not even like were-beasts or witches, who draw their power from the infernal. I cannot say what he is for certain. But he is alive, and human. Of that much I am certain."

"But you said he is one of Totholtz's lieutenants. Wouldn't that make him over a century old?"

Any hope to elicit more information that would verify her suspicions about Xiomara's age proved fruitless. The fleet-footed heroine shook her sable head in dismissal. "Legends tell of his appearance during campaigns. I suspect the Burning Man might be more closely tied to Totholtz than any of the others. But whatever he is or might have been, of a surety now he represents the greatest threat to our progress. At the Graff's command, he will continue to pursue you and your friends."

Rania looked out the cave mouth into the swirling blackness. There was already so much to be afraid of. Now this on top of everything else? This newfound fear helped her to reach a decision, however.

"I want to know more."

Xiomara looked up, surprised. "About what?"

"This." Rania reached up and pulled down her crimson scarf, the mark of Totholtz's possession of her, to reveal the red spots on her neck. They stood out against the pale skin like drops of blood. "The power Totholtz has in this world. His history. The reason why he became what he is. I want to understand what led us to this point."

Her wild companion appeared dubious. "There are few enough who can speak with any measure of authority on the subject of strigoi nowadays. The Church saw to that. And Totholtz is not a topic they care to divulge abroad, considering how he has cowed and subdued them."

"Then why not start with the Church?" Rania argued. "They might be more willing to cooperate now that his forces are on the move again. If they fear his influence might spread beyond Wallachia, surely they'll offer aid to those who can oppose him."

"The Church would burn you at the stake the moment they learned who you were. There're rumors abroad about the travelers who supposedly lead the Graff's forces to their next victims. The fall of Pitesti served as a wake-up call for the rest of Europe. Totholtz will not be content to abide in the shadows any longer. He has an army to rival anything ever seen in Heaven or Hell. And his power is great. You're his target, not his equal. What do you hope to accomplish by digging through the past?"

Black eyes drifted back to the fire. For a moment, a crimson spark glowed in each of them, causing Xiomara to stiffen warily. When Rania spoke next, her voice carried echoes of something that seemed to emanate from the back of the cave, carrying malevolence and a dark purpose with it.

"Salvation."

Michiru left off writing, pleased with the result so far. Returning to Rania's story had indeed allowed her to break the lethargy in terms of inspiration that had dogged her regarding Inglebert. This case of writer's block worried her. If it kept up, he might even be forgotten to the story altogether, which she couldn't help but take as a personal failing considering who he was based on.

Fans had called her out in the past about letting certain characters introduced earlier fall by the wayside in terms of story development. She no longer even remembered why she had once thought the character of Adelaide to be so important. A brief aside revealing that she was now living in Budapest with the remains of Birkenstrad's residents had done little to placate these diehard nitpickers, who insisted that she had been intended for Ulrich (or in some cases, Inglebert!) all along. While not an outlandish idea, Ohgawa could muster little inclination to support the position. Writing evolves, and so do writers. Not everything we start with is included in the end.

A notice from Uguisu popped up on her cellphone: 'Photo shoot went well. See you in 2 days. Remember, eat and sleep! No excuses!'

She grinned at her agent's fussy tendencies before typing back, 'Can do. Thanks, Nee-san!'

The phone then went back into her bag. Remembering the warning, she decided to take a rest for a while. The scenery was starting to look familiar anyway, which was nice. Soon they'd be back in Karakura Town. Now would be a good time to think about character development. Something a fan letter mentioned had gotten her thinking: maybe Xiomara should be his daughter instead of his wife? Then the wife could have died… daughter of a sultan… what's the word…? Sultana? Have to look that up later…

Next thing she knew, Uryu was gently shaking her. "Michiru? We're here. Michiru!"

She opened her eyes, flinching at his rough handling. "I am awake," she retorted, then blinked in confusion as she noticed the train had stopped. What? Did I really fall asleep? "Oh," the author sighed, troubled. "We're here."

He stood up straight and looked down at her with a frown. "Are you sure you're feeling alright?"

"Yeah. Just been real busy lately. Don't worry about it." She stood, picked up her sunhat and plopped it on. After taking a deep breath Ohgawa looked at him with a smile. "Let's go! I can't wait to see everyone."

She liked to visit her parents at least once a month so they didn't get worried. But this trip had more to do with her other loved ones. Uguisu often admonished her for living too much through her writing and not experiencing the world herself, which explained why she never came along on these trips to Karakura. Didn't want to be a distraction, while it also gave her a chance to be with other clients. Michiru appreciated that. And there was a lot more to her life than just being a novelist.

Sometimes it took her by surprise just where she was currently at. A published and successful writer, with a horde of clamoring fans and what was fast turning into a merchandising empire. Without Ishida-sensei to guide her, she probably would have wound up fleeced by the corporations that took control of her work. Thanks to his connections and ruthless negotiating she could claim a percentage of all items sold. Michiru purposefully refused to acknowledge how much she was actually worth. The number might scare her. But even if she did have resources, it was still nice to travel simply like this. Incognito, as it were. Oh, that's a good word, incognito! Have to include it in the next chapter.

They hailed a cab and left the station together. Michiru and Uryu pointed out familiar places to one another, recognizing restaurants where they had gone on dates, the route of the annual high school marathon, even spots relevant to their supernatural adventures. Those last earned them funny looks from the driver, so they kept them short. It was still fun, though. Memories of a life that seemed so far away, even after just one year.

"Do you think the adventure is over?" she asked suddenly.

"What adventure?" Ishida asked.

She settled back, choosing her words with care so as not to earn them any more suspicion. "Those wild times… we know it's still going on, but our part in it might be over and done. At least in terms of the big news." Michiru didn't want to downplay his efforts fighting Hollows if he was still at it. "Maybe all we have left to look forward to is… ordinary life?"

He studied her face, eyes thoughtful. "I never actually looked forward to any of that, to be honest." Then Ishida reached over and took her hand. "At least, not the way I do now. I can see the difference clear as day. So if we never hear from any of our… neighbors again, it won't cause me much distress."

Michiru felt her face go warm. He was getting better at expressing himself. Squeezing his fingers, she took off her hat and leaned against his shoulder for support. "Would you mind if I used that in my script?"

"I'd be honored," he said in a tone entirely devoid of mockery.

When they reached the house Yuzu Kurosaki opened the door to greet them with a smile. That, and a signed copy of 'Wanderers' first edition clutched to her chest. She beamed at the sight of them and immediately launched into action.

"Welcome home! Michiru-san, your last chapter was amazing! Can Xiomara become things other than a cat? Is Lohengrin the demon who turned Totholtz? Was the Graff married before or after he became a vampire? Is Rania related to him in any way? Hello, Ishida-san. When does the next novel come out? Is Ulric an only child…?"

The middle-schooler excitedly led them into the parlor without letting up on the barrage of questions. Michiru answered as many as she felt comfortable doing and dodged the rest. "Yes, she can. Maybe. You'll have to wait and see. November. Who knows…?"

The rest of the family awaited them in the living room, along with their friends. Ichigo looked up from some documents he was examining with his father and waved hello. Karin Kurosaki sat cross-legged on the floor with little Jaku held in her lap. He was busily examining what must be a new stuffed toy, turning it over to peer at it from every angle as if to determine which one would taste best. Sure enough, a second later he made his decision and began sucking on a fin. Karin tried to tempt him with a pacifier, however he ignored her efforts and continued to stake his claim. Michiru could not remember seeing a more quiet infant. In her experience he had never cried once.

Mahana Natsui looked up from taking a picture of the baby with her phone. "Hey, sensei," she grinned, using the title reserved for professionals in the manga industry. She lifted one end of a distinctive red scarf wrapped around her neck. "These things are great. You can always tell who's a fan when you're wearing them. Makes it easy to start conversations."

"Turn me, Mahana-san! I want to see!"

The curly-haired girl obliged, shifting a pad on the book nook beside her. On the screen, Chizuru Honsho peered out from a charming sidewalk bistro and beamed. "Michiru-chan!" she squealed. "You're so scrumptious in that outfit! I could lick you from top to bottom!"

"Please stop," the girl in question murmured, flushing as she stepped back against Uryu's reassuring presence. "Not in front of the baby."

"Love knows no decency!"

Mahana and Chizuru were sort of in business together. They both ran a blog of sorts that gave out relationship advice or something of that nature. It was interactive, meaning people were allowed to dial in and submit questions which the two co-hosts took turns answering. This was in addition to attending classes at university. It had taken off fairly well, since it would seem that new college and high school students especially had questions regarding acceptable dating. The fact that their program catered to same-sex couples as well only served to make them even more popular. Last she had heard, the girls were in discussion with at least one company about sponsoring their program full-time. Some entertainment conglomerate by the sound of it. Michiru certainly wished them all the best. No reason her success story should be the only one to come out of their graduating class, after all.

All of a sudden the redhead leaned closer to the camera, eyes turning steely behind her glasses. "Have you lost weight, Michiru-chan? You're looking run-down." Her gaze snapped up to Ishida, who stiffened with a frown. "Is that beast not taking good care of you, little one? I can be there tomorrow to comfort you in the way only a woman can! Just hold tight!"

"I'm fine, really!" Honestly, it felt like everyone was criticizing her lately. The flustered teen went over and knelt down beside Karin. Baby Kujaku looked up at her approach as if expecting her to give him something. It made her feel guilty that Uryu was holding their gift. "Happy 1st Birthday, tiny peacock."

She smiled at him. Upon deciding nothing by way of food or toys was coming from her direction, the infant returned to his previous pursuits.

"Guys? We're losing visual here." This came from an open laptop on the coffee table where Keigo Asano and Mizuiro Kojima's faces were jammed together trying to get a better view. Once Michiru obliged by getting out of their way, the two boys struggled and groused at one another, jockeying for space in an outdoor café somewhere. They returned her greetings and then returned to arguing about child-rearing, a topic neither of them could possibly have any personal experience in.

Keigo Asano had been accepted to Hokkaido University like his sister. After getting off his ass in terms of schoolwork, their goofy friend proved himself to be more intelligent than the teaching staff ever had reason to suspect. Sadly, the same could not be said for Mizuiro, who failed his entrance exams and was now a certified ronin. To no one's surprise, he was not dismayed at this turn of events and continued to cultivate a burgeoning social life. What his plans for the future might be, no one wanted to speculate on. Although the term 'trophy husband' had been mentioned on at least one occasion. As usual, Kunieda Ryō's plans remained a mystery, though Tatsuki confessed to having heard something about marriage while running together. As for Arisawa, her spot on the Japanese karate team was pretty much in the bag. Next time the Olympics rolled around, they would have a secret weapon to deploy.

After satisfying her natural desires by playing with the baby's bare toes and pinching his chubby cheeks (which he disliked greatly but she still couldn't resist), Michiru took a seat on the couch and looked around. Uryu presented their wrapped gift to Ichigo solemnly. The two men scowled at one another for a moment, then lapsed into smiles so easily it made them appear like two different people. They began to chat, Ishida letting his old rival in on university life and Kurosaki giving him a heads-up on family matters. The sight of the former rivals engaging in such a heartwarming scene left Michiru more certain than ever that they had turned a corner in their lives.

This in turn reminded her of their high school graduation celebration. It was like something out of a manga. Clutching their rolled diplomas, wearing school uniforms for what would be the absolute last time ever, they had exchanged goodbyes with educators, advisors and club members. The Creative Writing Club sent Michiru off with a shower of paper charms on which they had written good fortunes, which left her crying and stammering and hugging just about anyone who came too close. The boys in the kendo club saluted their phenomenal taisho with a corridor of crossed bamboo swords down which Ichigo was finally convinced to march, looking more flustered than she could ever remember seeing him.

Keigo had been a comical absurdity in terms of emotion, blubbering and weeping from one person to another, shying away from Kunieda who steadfastly wasn't having anything to do with that. He wound up weeping on his sister's shoulder as their divorced parents greeted one another coldly. Michiru remembered being shocked to meet Mizuiro's mother, a woman she had half convinced herself was dead before then considering how little he spoke of her. But perhaps even absentee parents made time for their only child's graduation. The two of them seemed to be on good terms at least.

The most unexpected occurrence came when Ishida's mates in the Handicrafts Club presented him with a sumptuous white scarf they had knitted themselves, including their names tastefully embroidered in blue. To her surprise, they then bestowed its mate in crimson on her, a tacit indication that her supposedly secret identity as a cellphone novelist was not quite so secret after all. This brought on a fresh round of crying. Her parents took her out to dinner afterwards, and Ishida joined them once he had spent some time talking to his father.

His mother never showed up. They did not talk about this.

Speaking of no-shows, Michiru felt disappointed at how few people from their group were actually in attendance. Although it meant less socializing, which she wasn't feeling quite up to. Kunieda and Yasutora had apparently sent RSVPs along with their gifts. Ochi-sensei had plans she couldn't get out of, it would seem. Arisawa Tatsuki had a competition scheduled for that day and also sent her love. Nanao Ise was also nowhere to be seen. Come to think of it…

"Where is Rukia-chan?"

One would think by the looks she got that there was nothing at all strange about a mother not being in attendance at her own son's first birthday party.

At last Kurosaki Isshin cleared his throat meaningfully. "She's with her brother."

Michiru couldn't say what caused her to shiver right then. For a moment she half-feared bad news of the sort that nearly killed people a year ago. Those 'adventures' she had spoken of to Uryu had lost some of their reminiscent luster. Once again it occurred to her there was more to their daily lives than jobs and higher education.

Then the baby leaned forward and placed his palms decisively on the floor. A hush fell over the audience as their attention all swung to him again. With no more notice of their eyes upon him than before, Kujaku got to his feet, pushed off the ground and stood up straight. He nearly stumbled backwards into Karin, but caught himself in time and trotted a few steps forward instead. He then turned his head eagerly around, as though in search of praise at his triumph.

At that point they all started gushing and exclaiming over him, and once again, any worries were put on hold as the miracle of infancy reclaimed its focus in their lives.

Byakuya Kuchiki listened impassively until Rukia finished her tale.

Does he seem upset?

You know I can't tell. Anyone normal would be.

Don't joke about this! I still can't believe what I did…!

All right, I get it! Don't fly off the handle. He's not going to arrest you… I hope.

Ordinarily a talk with Sode no Shirayuki would serve to at least give her some sense of clarity. But although outwardly calm, nothing could settle Rukia's nerves. She had assaulted Unohana Retsu! Was it really the legendary captain, or some dark conjuring? There was certainly no sense of another soul signature during their encounter, otherwise she would have detected Unohana's approach. Still, as confounding and disturbing as their conversation had been, Rukia felt with utmost certainty the person she spoke to was the figure of legend herself.

So then why did I do it?

I couldn't have harmed her for real, could I? Not her! She's a goddess, untouchable even by captain standards, just like Yamamoto had been! A mere lieutenant couldn't injure someone that powerful! Wherever Unohana might be, she must still be alright.

Rukia had left Kujaku in the care of his grandfather Isshin and gone straight to Soul Society. There her brother had been waiting at Kuchiki Manor. Rukia was surprised to find no other captains or authority figures present, for the return of Unohana held implications both good and bad. The most powerful shinigami now alive had come back to them, yet that meant Nirvana might have been breached. The leadership of the afterlife ought to know about this!

"How is Kujaku faring?"

Her head jerked up. She had been lost in thought at the repercussions of her blasphemous act and needed a moment to collect herself. "He was asleep when I left him. I don't think he will remember this." I hope he doesn't remember this. Watching his mother kill a person… there would be no explanation for it. How can I explain something to him I myself do not understand?

Byakuya's grey eyes remained fixed on the floor between where they knelt. "So no harm came to him."

A hot flush traveled up Rukia's spine, and she shook her head. Byakuya noticed this distress. To her utmost surprise, he reached forward to take her hand in his long-fingered grip.

"I am glad you are both safe."

Other people wouldn't see much in such a gesture. But to the Kuchiki, her brother had just demonstrated an atypical level of direct emotion and comfort. He clearly recognized how distraught Rukia was over this incident and was trying his best to let her know she had his support. It came as such a relief she nearly leapt forward and hugged him. However her reserve had not been rattled to that extent, and Rukia was content to simply squeeze back, enjoying the reassuring feel of her Nii-sama's callused fingers.

"This matter must be brought before the Gotei 7 and the Great Houses," he spoke in assured tones. Noting the return of tension to Rukia's frame, Byakuya added, "There is much we still do not know, so I am certain there will be no rush to judgment. For now a lack of surety means lack of harm. Return to your son and look after him. I will be with you soon."

"Yes, Nii-sama." Gratefully Rukia bowed to her lord and sibling. She then took her leave.

The master of the manor sat in the council chamber until he received silent confirmation that his sister had departed the grounds. Once sure of this, he rose and traveled to another part of the building.

When the door opened, Yoruichi and Noboru looked up from where they lay nestled together on the floor. His son leapt up first. "How are they?" he demanded, worry and helplessness evident in every taut muscle of his body.

"Rukia and Kujaku came to no harm," Byakuya assured him simply. "We are fortunate."

"Gods," Yoruichi slumped in a tired posture on the floor. She looked up, eyes half-closed and knuckles pressed to her mouth as though afraid of being sick. "She could have killed them, Byakuya."

There was a haunted, frightened edge to his wife's voice he had seldom heard before. Noboru looked between both his parents, desperate for someone to reassure him. "She wouldn't, though, right?" he demanded of them. "I mean, isn't that what you said? That she told you she'd never kill a kid? Right? Maybe this was just meant to scare us."

"If so, she did a damn good job." The Lady of Shihoin looked at her family as though they might be taken away from her at any given moment. While not an unknown experience for her, it remained overwhelming in terms of sheer frustrated helplessness. For a time she had actually managed to convince herself there was no longer a need to fear the loss of all she loved. Now one simple revelation had caused all that comfort to come crashing down.

Unohana was back.

"Could she have freed herself?" Yoruichi asked, looking at Byakuya with penetrating seriousness. "Have they broken out of Nirvana?"

He came down and sat between them, a restless Noboru joining his noble sire. "Were that the case, I doubt Aizen would have allowed us any forewarning at all. He and his vasto lorde would be with us even now, wreaking chaos. As you well know, he is overly fond of displaying his superiority in terms of strength."

"Thank heaven for small favors," Yoruichi bit out, and then laughed upon realizing what she said. "Oh, my stars! Heaven awaits, and last I saw it looked a good deal like Hell! Think Jigoku would mind if we asked to move in with him for a few eternities?"

"I am not ready to abandon the field," Byakuya affirmed. "Not at the sight of that woman's shadow."

His partner and teacher considered this. "Showing up in a gigai… what's the point? Why not just emerge in all her glory? And if it was Unohana for real, why didn't she appear when the gigai was destroyed? This doesn't add up. It smacks of Hollow magic, like the kind Gin used the last time we had our little discussion."

"Which would mean she is here, but chooses not to reveal herself," Byakuya concluded.

Noboru looked between them. "Maybe she's weakened? Like it took everything she had to break out, and now she's lying low, conserving her strength."

"That still would not explain what purpose she had revealing herself in the first place."

They all grew silent then. The heir apparent pouted, squirming in one place as though fighting an itch between his shoulder blades. The two heads of state considered the matter more deeply.

"There's no point whatsoever in trying to hide this from the other captains," Yoruichi finally spoke. "They at least have to know. From there we can work out whether or not to divulge this information amongst the Squads."

"And Aunt Rukia?" Noboru asked in an anxious voice. "Do you think it's time? I mean, should we… tell her?"

Since learning of the sacrifice made by Rukia following the war and the horrible role she played in it, Noboru's love for his aunt had not suffered. The battle against Cernunnos convinced Soifon that he had matured sufficiently to learn the truth, and with Byakuya's permission she had gone on to explain about the memory spell cast on certain people involved in their world's greatest calamity. The fact that Rukia Kuchiki could conceivably be viewed as the worst traitor in the history of Soul Society had done nothing to deter his devotion to her. Byakuya was heartened to learn of this even knowing it placed his son in an untenable position. He must now keep a very dangerous secret from his aunt and the world.

The Captain-Commander of the Gotei 7 stood. "Before that, I must fulfill my duty. It is time the other captains were informed of this development."

"That just leads right back to the issue, though, doesn't it?" Yoruichi wore a troubled frown as she rose to join him. "Two of them are under the same memory charm as Rukia, after all. And in Isane's case, her status as Unoahana's subordinate makes things even more dicey. She might act on a misguided sense of loyalty to her former captain, a woman revered as a saint in our world."

"So who do we tell first?" Noboru asked tentatively.

The Lady of the Kotetsu, Isane Kotetsu, was sharing a meal late in the evening with her consort Ukitake Jushirō when the door of their chambers flew open and her younger sister Kiyone came sprinting in. "Nee-sama! O-Nii-sama! The Kuchiki are coming!"

Ukitake stared at her in surprise, a pair of chopsticks halfway to his mouth. "To kill us?"

"What? No!" Kiyone shook her head, dancing from foot to foot in her apprehension. "I mean… maybe? Something huge is going down! I got word they've locked down the manor, and Rukia came unexpectedly earlier, and they sent a dispatch to Hueco Mundo to retrieve the Kenpachi, and… it's big news, that's all I know!"

A glance passed between Isane and Ukitake. She dabbed a napkin to her lips and rose quickly, servants already appearing to remove the remains of their repast. A few spoken words confirmed the household's course of action. Afterwards Lord and Lady Kotetsu repaired to a private audience chamber to wait upon their visitors' arrival. Seated before an ornate bronze bas relief depicting a dragon soaring through the heavens, they considered what this unforeseen complication might entail in silence. Within just a few minutes, word came that a high-ranking guest had indeed arrived seeking entry. Permission was quickly given. In no time the leaders of Kotetsu and Kuchiki found themselves facing one another.

"To what do we owe this visit, Kuchiki-sama?" Isane asked with a trace of trepidation.

"Lady Isane," the statuesque nobleman regarded her with as much cool reserve as usual, yet there was a sense of tension around him which made this all the more disquieting. "An hour past my sister and her child were approached in the mortal realm by Unohana Retsu."

Isane's hand flew to her mouth.

"As we speak my wife is informing the Arashi as well. Once the captains have all been gathered there shall be a military summit to discuss the matter." Byakuya tilted his head, stormy eyes flashing with unspoken menace. "We must be prepared for whatever comes next. Is there anything you might add to this?"

Jushirō looked between the Captain-Commander and his wife. Since Isane remained too visibly shaken at this news to continue, he took up the slack. "Kuchiki-sama, have you checked on the gateway yet?"

"A team of sorcerers from the Kidō Corps were dispatched to the former First Division grounds. From their account, there is no indication at all the gate to Nirvana has been opened."

"H-how…?"

Isane had recovered herself enough to speak, much to Jushirō's relief. He remained concerned at how pale his wife had become in the last few seconds. In addition he recognized the hidden strength that betokened her refusal to allow ill news to overtake her. As both head of a Great House and captain of the Seireitei, she had proven over the past few years that it was not for nothing the Kotetsu remained a force to be reckoned with in this world.

"How did she… seem?"

Byakuya looked away when he spoke. "My sister reported a change in Unohana's manner, but insofar as she could tell, there was no sign of mistreatment or injury on her part. I can reveal no more on the subject at this time." He raised his head to meet her gaze squarely. "But we cannot overlook the possibility this was meant as a first salvo on the part of Nirvana."

"Meaning Aizen arranged this meeting," Ukitake pronounced grimly.

"It is a valid option."

"Then can you give us more detail about the incident in question?"

A look passed between the two men that spoke volumes; each knew to say too much in Isane's hearing might lead to awkward questions. As such Byakuya proceeded to give them a brief overview of the meeting between Rukia and Unohana. While his dialogue was chosen with care, he omitted nothing, including the final outcome.

At last Isane lifted her hand. "If I may make a suggestion?"

They regarded her, uncertain where this might lead.

"I can appreciate your concern, Captain-Commander. We all know there is no one more skilled at deception than Sosuke Aizen. It may very well be impossible to divine his intentions if he is behind this." Her sad gray eyes drifted closed, and she appeared to steel herself. "But if it was indeed Unohana-sama acting of her own accord, she might have done this to reveal her intentions."

"How so?" Byakuya asked.

His counterpart in the Kotetsu had adopted a worried look. "I appreciate Rukia's instincts as both a mother and a shinigami, so if she felt there was any danger to her child, it was not without cause. Consider this, though: were Unohana-sama so inclined, she could have harmed Kujaku before Rukia was even aware of her. That is not the case. She only talked. Should we not consider doing the same?"

Ukitake appeared perplexed. "You think we should…?"

Isane nodded. "Let us talk to her."

A late-night jogger suddenly deviated from his usual route for some reason to choose a different path. Two lovers walking along beneath the harvest moon drifted around the edge of a park without entering. The detective discretely following them at the behest of a suspicious spouse felt compelled for reasons he couldn't explain to go no nearer the grassy sward.

On a nondescript patch of public ground in Karakura Town, a selection of heavenly officials sat down for a meeting, secure at least that no errant humans would intrude on their activities. Upon confirming their security measures, Captain-Commander of Grayhound Company Byakuya Kukichi wasted no time in summoning a hell butterfly. He felt uncomfortable at the thought of who exactly would be receiving this message. Under a strict interpretation of the law, this might be viewed as treason. There was little in the way of a higher authority to take him to task. All the same, a significant portion of his soul rebelled at what he was about to do.

Nonetheless he imparted his message and set the winged envoy free. It fluttered up into the night sky and disappeared.

Its target was Unohana Retsu, assuming she truly existed in this world.

Am I engaged on a fool's errand, I wonder?

One might be so inclined to agree, considering the bizarre company assembled here. The witch would be mad to appear by herself before such a carnival.

Byakuya looked around the tranquil setting at his, for lack of a better word, conspirators. Of course Isane was present. Seeing as it was her suggestion that they hold this meeting in the first place, she felt impelled to attend, and would serve as their resident expert on Unohana. There was no reasonable way to refuse her. At the Heron Captain's insistence, they had refrained from including any more of the First Seats than necessary. A wise precaution, since gathering all of them in one spot only invited an attack.

Of course, losing even the small number of authority figures present here would throw Soul Society into chaos. The Kotetsu woman's motives should remain suspect.

I will not summarily pass judgement on one of our most noble allies.

Which is exactly the thinking which led to our defeat so often at Aizen's hands before.

Representing Siamese Company came Neliel tu Odelschvank. As a former high-class Espada well-versed in Aizen's intricacies, she could offer helpful insight. And Hollow senses might be attuned to pick up on anything a shinigami would conceivably miss. Among the two leaders of that disparate company, Nel remained the wisest choice in terms of forbearance and circumspection.

And should she fall here, you have another captain of Siamese to fit the bill. To say nothing of the fact you know her co-captain to be already bound to Aizen's cabal.

I swore not to hold that against Renji, any more than I do Rukia.

That is hardly the only strike against him. We have good reason to suspect SHE has had her claws in Abarai for some time yet.

All the more reason to keep him far away from the witch.

Also included in their number was Mayuri Kurotsuchi, nominal head of the Shinigami Research and Development Bureau. After recovering from his long incarceration, the depraved researcher had surprised all of them by not insisting on being made captain of Ibis Company. Knowing his overweening pride as one of the few human traits Mayuri possessed, it came as a shock when he accepted a position in the department formed by his old commander Kisuke Urahara. Some speculated he had undergone a change of heart after reportedly experiencing thousands of lifetimes of self-imposed agony. Byakuya had personally seen little to convince himself of such repentance on the mad scientist's part. However he remained one of the people who had worked most closely with Unohana in the past, and much like Captain Kotetsu could be relied upon to provide valuable insight into her motivations should she choose to appear.

And much like with the Hollow girl, he is an expendable ally, since you have another obstreperous academic handy.

While I make no claims to liking the man, I do not view him as 'expendable'. Say rather I would shed no tears at his death.

They waited in silence for half an hour. Perhaps some of them conversed with their soul cutters as he did. Neliel lifted her head often as though scenting the wind, but this could possibly be explained by her being distracted at the high number of human souls in the area. Such a tempting bouquet would lead a Hollow of any stripe to imagine it being a banquet. Yet the green-haired soul remained in her seat, as calm and composed as a lifelong courtier. It was sometimes difficult to correlate the often contrary aspects of Neliel's personality. This level-headed warrior did not jive with the shameless exhibitionist who nearly derailed his wedding feast.

Being so preoccupied in observing her, Byakuya did not miss when Nel's nostrils flared abruptly, and her head whipped around, clutching her scabbard as though preparing to draw.

The shock on her face was nothing compared to what he felt when they saw who emerged past the treeline.

"Evenin', everybody!"

Gin Ichimaru strolled nonchalantly across the grass. The renegade shinigami had on the traditional outfit of a komusō monk, right down to the large bell-like reed mask which completely encased his head and granted him a measure of anonymity. The voice, however, left no doubt as to his identity. He had on travel-worn robes of deepest indigo and absurdly tall wooden sandals that added to his height. A bamboo flute twirled in one hand as he marched a trifle unsteadily towards them, hampered by his ludicrous footwear. Throwing this sick animal into the mix was like lobbing a ticking time-bomb into a crowd. No telling what the man might do.

As if this were not enough to invite concern, beside him walked Unohana Retsu. She looked the same as ever; classically beautiful, with a soft smile playing about her lips and eyes twinkling with affection. She wore a temple miko's attire, crimson hakama trousers and white haori, her long hair tied back with a ribbon to dance softly behind her. For all appearances she was unarmed. There was something almost comical at the way those two had dressed. Not a trace of spiritual power escaped either of them. Specialized gigai, Byakuya thought. They both chose to appear in corporeal form, which limited their power.

All the same, not a single person watching felt safe at this moment.

The approaching duo were arm-in-arm, almost laconic in the way they moved. All four of the spirits watched with varying degrees of wariness as they approached. An empty cushion awaited, and it was here that Gin guided Unohana to sit. She did so gracefully, her masked attendant taking up place behind her. The agents of Soul Society looked between their former cohorts.

Gin spoke first as his hidden gaze fell on one person in particular. "Neliel," he greeted the outcast Espada in an overly familiar fashion, a smile evident in every word he spoke. "Yer lookin' a bit peckish. Ain't these shinigami feedin' you right?"

"I'm watching my figure, Ichimaru-san." To Byakuya's consternation, she actually smiled back at him. "But if you're offering, I'll gladly take a bite out of you."

Across from them, Mayuri Kurotsuchi chuckled. "It seems turncoats get along well." Incisors showing as though about to chew through his lip, he inclined his head to Unohana. "Good day, sensei."

"And you," she returned the gesture, "Sensei."

Hearing the woman's voice again made Byakuya's fingers itch to draw his sword. He cast a glance at Isane Kotetsu to gauge her reaction, but for once the tall noblewoman managed to maintain an air of icy sang-froid. She gazed at her old mentor and leader without blinking, features neutral. This sudden command of herself left Byakuya worried. Isane was known for being nakedly open in her emotions. Already this meeting did not bode well.

Mayuri continued. "It's a relief to know I didn't miss anything important during my… incapacitation. Lost opportunities for research proved almost as distressing as the bothersome treatment I received." He took a long pipe from his robes and lit it, golden eyes shining behind the smoke. "But you must have felt the same. Tell me, when exactly did Aizen use the hōgyoku on you?"

About to demand they get down to business, the Captain-Commander paused. Kurotsuchi had hit upon a sensitive topic, but one that betokened a great deal of interest.

In response, Unohana merely smiled. "He didn't."

Madman and madwoman watched one another for several seconds. At last it was Mayuri who turned his attention away, puffing thoughtfully as he scrutinized the landscape.

Then, to the surprise of many, he said, "I'm sorry to hear it."

Even Retsu's eyebrows rose a fraction at that. Isane lost her grip on stoicism long enough to gape at him, but she recovered quickly. As for Byakuya, he could not remember hearing Mayuri Kurotsuchi express sympathy to anyone in his experience. The man himself appeared more agitated at this admission than any of them, crossing his arms and moodily chewing on the pipe-stem.

Unohana had been turning into a Hollow when she was banished to Nirvana. The process could only be halted, or at least impeded, by the hōgyoku, the soul-distorting gem which was the source of much conflict in the past. Had the gem done its work, or was it too late by the time the war for Nirvana ebbed to have made a difference? This would definitely explain the odd behavior observed by Rukia. Just what were they facing now, shinigami or Hollow?

Get ahold of yourself.

Byakuya once more settled on a plan of action. "Unohana Retsu." The false shrine maiden turned a charming look upon him, such that he had to bear in mind the atrocities she had admitted committing to his face. "We are here to discuss the future."

"How unlike you to be so cooperative, Byakuya-kun." She settled back on her heels with a coquettish tilt to her head. "I truly was thrown for a loop when I received your communique. Never did I think you might actually wish to parlay with your sworn enemies. Can it be you have come to recognize the need for reconciliation between you? Truly, power does change even the most resolute souls."

"It has been suggested," he proceeded with caution, aware that every word out of her mouth held the peril of a kidō spell, "that Aizen's cabal might not be as intent on mayhem as we have right to expect. For this reason I am willing to grant a stay of execution until the effort has been made to find a peaceful resolution to our conflict."

"Again, this is uncharacteristic behavior for you." She turned back to Isane, features working now into a smile that held much less peril and more compassion. "Dear Isane-chan, was it your idea to seek me out thus?"

"Yes." Isane was sweating visibly. The grief she felt could easily be read in quivering eyes and fists bunched in her captain's robe. "I had to… for your sake."

While they spoke Byakuya studied their enemy. There was no sign yet of the alarming erraticism which had given Rukia such concern. Either Unohana meant to keep herself in check this time around, which again would lean towards a favorable interpretation of her overall demeanor, or she was playing them false once more. It would hardly be the first time.

"Well, good ta know somebody's got their priorities straight on your team," Ichimaru cut in with wicked relish. His poisonous words seemed to strangle any goodwill that might have been growing between them. Once again Byakuya gripped Senbozakura's sheath in anticipation.

"Then let us not bandy words overlong." Unohana had grown grave in both voice and manner, her white face shining under the moon like a mask of judgement. "You wish there to be peace from here on out, I take it? Then your course of action should be clear."

Byakuya stirred, recognizing that the two leaders of their group were now ready to clash. "And that would be?"

"Open Nirvana. Set free Aizen Sosuke, and accept him as your rightful ruler."

"Ooh, they didn't like the sound o' that!" Gin snickered.

It was true. Half the representatives of the Gotei 7 reacted with alarm to this proposal, while the others strove to hide any response which might not serve their interests.

"Unohana-sama," Isane spoke fiercely for a change. "Why have you come to us with this thing in tow?" Her dark brown eyes flashed a challenge at Ichimaru, who tapped the flute against his basket-mask as though debating how to respond.

"Young Ichimaru has as much at stake in these proceedings as any of us," she responded evenly back. "He agreed to serve as my escort. I can understand how this would offer reason to suspect his loyalties, but come now," and here her gracious smile was back full force. "Do you honestly believe that I do not feel exactly the same?"

"I do my best," Gin sang in tones dripping with insincerity.

Byakuya stirred in his seat. "You are asking us to submit to the rule of a murderer. An all-powerful tyrant who uses deceit, manipulation and even death to achieve his goals. There is absolutely no reason to trust such a faithless character."

Unohana gave him a bland look that reeked of disapproval. "I did not think you would hit the mark with such alacrity. Tell me, are we speaking of Aizen, or the brute who previously held your current rank, Soutaichou?"

That he should so easily open himself to misstep left Byakuya incensed by his carelessness. The parallels between Aizen and Yamamoto Genryusai-Shigekuni were obvious in hindsight. Soul Society had functioned under the Old Man's strict supervision for generations, during which time dissidence was ruthlessly quashed, lies were draped in the veneer of official proclamations, and loyalties were tested and abused until one broke. The pall of internecine politics which hovered over every move they made had cost lives as surely as fighting Hollows. Only by keeping the large part of the shinigami population ignorant as to the secret workings of their world had they managed to maintain order and discipline. True, those centuries of relative peace were not to be discounted. But they did come with a price.

"Trade one ogre for another, eh?" Mayuri piped up, leaning his cheek against one long-fingered hand and grinning toothily. "I might be convinced to see my way clear to such an arrangement, sensei. But are we meant to accept the weight of the stick without even the semblance of a carrot, hmmm?"

"The advantages to you? They are doubly obvious. In addition to avoiding a lengthy and needlessly sordid conflict, it will offer a remedy to the ills which belabor humankind."

When no one chose to speak out, Unohana continued. "Surely you have noticed by now the mortal realm is stagnating. It has reached a point where the population no longer has a clear grasp of how to deal with its own shortcomings. Every labor they embark upon is mired in fear, conflict and abuse. Rank atrocities are committed every day until they are accepted as commonplace. This failure on their part stems from a lack of guidance. Like children who do not know enough to contemplate a solution, they founder amidst the wreckage of their world. It falls to us to rectify these failings, by offering comfort where we can. And by passing judgment."

The assembled party looked to one another. This manifesto came as little surprise to most of them. It was disturbingly similar to the scenario detailed by Momo Hinamori as related by Hitsugaya Tōshirō. Aizen envisioned a world where his influence extended beyond the realm of the spiritual and actively influenced mortal lives. The prospect included Hollow executioners who punished errant mortals and shinigami acting as their handlers.

Disgusting.

Quite.

"Under such a system," Retsu continued blithely, "we shinigami would aim to restore balance to the afterlife. Mortal prospects would no longer be so bleak as to promote the formation of Hollows upon death, which in turn improves their lot in life. As such the shinigami will no longer be yoked to an endless war of attrition. Thus all benefit."

"And should we refuse?" Isane asked softly.

Her old mistress looked upon the ancient soul with sad eyes. "Then you will have demonstrated an unreasonable obstinance that betokens only one solution. When He is freed, and believe me, it is a matter of when, the King of Soul Society will relieve you of your positions."

"Along with our heads?" Mayuri seemed to relish the prospect, rubbing his hands together in excitement.

"That is not for me to say." Here she smiled once more. "Do not grieve unnecessarily. There is still a chance you might come to terms." Unohana turned once more to Byakuya. "Is that not so, Captain-Commander?"

Complete and utter–

"Yes."

I beg your PARDON…?!

"There is a way to demonstrate willingness to reach a compromise," he continued. This was quite a hornet's nest to poke, but he saw no reason not to make the offer. "It is my understanding that two of the vasto lorde abominations have been destroyed. If Aizen truly seeks a reconciliation that would lead to the opening of Nirvana on our part, then I ask that he dispatch the remaining two, as proof of good faith."

"Oh, is that all?" Ichimaru twirled his flute so that a haunting whistle came from it.

Byakuya ignored the fool entirely. "The vasto lorde are an untenable hazard to anything representing order in this world or beyond. Even if you consider the prospect of eliminating them at a later date should they become unruly, you must admit such a conflict would entail untold devastation across dimensions. By agreeing to their extinction now, in an isolated location where casualties would be minimized, Aizen demonstrates a devotion to rule of law, not force."

If he is willing to roll the dice, that is.

Unohana listened patiently to his explanation. When he finished, she looked all around, then up at the moon, before closing her eyes.

"Ichigo Kurosaki…"

Byakuya tensed.

"And the Kenpachi, Zaraki." Her head came down with a sigh, face contrite once more. "Perhaps you believe two such extraordinary souls would prove a match for Aizen were he to break the truce and initiate open warfare? Without any vasto lorde, the odds certainly appear more even. All could be kept in equilibrium. Stalemate at worst."

A dark edge crept into Unohana's voice. "Do you know aught of human history, Lord Kuchiki? Ages past, the landowners of Great Britain rose against what they considered the insupportable demands of their divinely appointed king. When their strength proved superior, he was forced into an agreement granting them heightened authority and diminishing his own. He signed away his power with the stroke of a pen. A similar abrogation occurred on this very isle, when the heavenly emperor bowed before the victor of the Genpei War and granted him the title of shogun, in doing so eventually becoming a mere paper tiger."

She raised her palms skyward in speculative fashion. "Would you anoint your king's head with oil even as you bound his hands?"

Byakuya looked to the others in search of their input. Mayuri was watching Retsu, rubbing his long-nailed fingers together and keeping his own counsel. Neliel frowned as her eyes strayed from Unohana to Ichimaru and back again. One finger tapped against her knee, a prearranged signal indicating she could come to no conclusion at the current time.

For her part, Isane had grown subdued during the previous speech, hands held listlessly in her lap and unwilling even to look at the woman anymore. Out of nowhere, a thought occurred to him then. At no point during this conclave had Unohana explicitly stated herself to be in league with Aizen. On its face, such a point held little significance. But was it possible it had been done intentionally? All present knew she was the one who had raised Aizen and trained him to be the nemesis of Soul Society… all except Isane, whose recollection of that event had been restrained at her own insistence.

Could this be important? Does Unohana know about the memory spell? Certain things Rukia mentioned all unawares would seem to indicate so.

The casting of 'Cloud Over Moon' was done by the witch herself. As a sorceress of paramount skill, she might be able to tell the charm had been reactivated in her absence. That could mean she chooses to keep her true identity hidden for Isane's sake.

Then perhaps it would be a mistake to assume she is here solely as a messenger, or even an emissary. There is a chance, however small, that for all her evil, Unohana came to us tonight in search of help.

For herself?

It is not unthinkable.

Helping her would be.

Not if doing so worked to our advantage. We must be careful. Ichimaru is watching.

So resolved, Byakuya gave a signal of his own to Isane.

"Will you at least let us try to help you, Unohana-sama?" Captain Kotetsu interjected abruptly, worry and fright now evident in her face and body language. "However it might have happened, you are here with us now." Her shoulders slumped, head ducking down low. "And we still care about you."

Unohana regarded her ex-lieutenant with a measured stare that lasted several seconds. When she did speak, it was haltingly, in a manner unlike her previous assured tones. "I… believe you, Isane-chan. But there is… more I must take into account. And the reason is… I no longer know… what I even am."

Thsee words sent a chill through Byakuya's heart.

She passed a hand through her midnight hair then, as though grown tired. "The hour is late, and I have much yet to do ere long. Noble captains, will you grant this old woman some measure of peace? Say that you will consider the offer made tonight."

"We will consider it," the Captain-Commander said tersely.

"I am glad. Then, as a sign of good faith on our part…" and her she reached slowly into her robe, withdrawing nothing more remarkable than a sheaf of papers. This she proffered to them. "I believe you will find this information most helpful in reaching a decision."

Without a word Byakuya rose and crossed over to accept the documents. He might have delegated to one of the others. That much was obvious. Any of them could have gone to take that packet from her. But a suspicion had been growing in him this whole time. He intended to sound Unohana out in this meeting; perhaps she had done the same? Were he to refuse to approach her, at best, he would appear cowardly. At worst, he cared not what happened to those who served with him.

As he took the parchment, their eyes met, and a faint trace of acknowledgement danced in hers. Had he made the correct choice?

"And now," Retsu said with a soft laugh, "I must go."

As she spoke, a knife shot from the pipe Ichimaru held, and in one sudden violent movement he stabbed her through the heart.

Isane screamed as Unohana collapsed. At the same time, lightning flashed, and they were surrounded by a contingent of masked Arashi warriors. Their Hexagons instantly encased Gin in several whirling circles like electrons dancing around a nucleus. He had only a moment to consider this before Nel leapt forward, she and Byakuya drawing their swords at the same time. The blades licked out, and a second later both of Gin's arms had been cut off to land beside his victim's body. There would be no teleportation charms today.

"Well," the masked monk mused lightly, "Ain't that a loss?"

It didn't take long to realize something was off, as the stumps of his limbs did not bleed at all. Angrily Byakuya moved in and knocked the basket off with his sheath. The face revealed beneath was swollen and missing its nose, with rotted black lips and yellow teeth. A cadaver, he realized, as those milky eyes moved to fasten on him.

"Guess that's all for now, eh? We'll talk later, Byakuya-kun."

With that the corpse and its accoutrements went up in a rush of bright blue flames that soon incinerated everything within the magic circles. Byakuya watched the sending crumble with utter contempt, replacing his sword in its scabbard. By the light of the pyre, he looked down to see Isane cradling Unohana's head in her lap. She looked up at him with eyes that held equal parts hurt and accusation. There was nothing he could think to say. Already the gigai, for that was what it proved to be, had begun to lose its shape. Moments later the grieving captain found herself clutching an empty set of ceremonial robes.

"May I?"

Mayuri had come strolling up and held out his hand to Byakuya. Wordlessly he passed over the documents that had been provided. The spectral alchemist leafed through them, a faint curl to his lip indicating either surprise or disdain. The Lord of the Kuchiki ignored him and knelt by Isane's side. "Was it truly Unohana?"

She shuddered and nodded, wiping away tears. "Yes. There is no mistaking her."

"It was only a projection," he reminded the elder captain gently. "She was not truly with us and could come to no harm, as suspected."

"We've seen this trick before, from the vasto lorde," Neliel pointed out. She poked Gamuza at the glowing fragments which were all that remained of Gin's disguise, wrinkling her nose at the resulting mess. "I still can't tell if she's a Hollow now or not, but Halibel might have taught them the trick either way."

A strike commander of the Arashi troop moved to approach Byakuya. "Your Highness, we have received word from our fellows. No move was made against your sister or any of the humans. We can find no trace of subterfuge."

He nodded to indicate thanks and dismissal. Byakuya looked around the moonlit glade. From what he had learned this night it seemed likely Unohana herself remained trapped along with the rest of her forces. She hadn't admitted as such, giving all the more reason to believe it. Clearly she must have hidden away a cache of gigai at some point over the centuries which she could now call upon to bridge the divide between this plane and her heavenly prison somehow. If that were the case, why reveal herself here and not in Soul Society? Was there a limit to this new power? Perhaps if she were a Hollow or a hybrid as Yoruichi once feared…

Wait.

Ah. That would explain it.

"Return to Soul Society," he commanded. "Have a detachment from Heron purify the area. I will rejoin you shortly."

A gate opened for their use. In that time, Byakuya Kuchiki had already flashed across the night sky, passing over human habitations whose occupants slept soundly beneath their protector's passing.

Soon enough he had reached his destination: the Kurosaki household. By now the well-wishers and attendees to the celebration would surely have departed. Rukia and her family remained, however. He could feel her down on the lower levels, but rather than go there straightaway, he zeroed in on another position.

Ichigo Kurosaki looked up as Byakuya emerged through a wall of the kitchen. The youth scowled in a manner that indicated he considered such forms of entry passing strange. Nonetheless he went about chopping up a selection of fruits. "Hey. How'd the meeting go?"

"We have learned some points of interest," the lord of the afterlife said with what he knew must be infuriating calm. "I wished to speak with you before consulting Rukia."

"What about?" The substitute shinigami used a spoon to scoop half a kiwi fruit out of its skin and began chopping it up.

"Minazuki."

There was only a momentary hesitation before Ichigo got back to cutting. "Refresh my memory."

Byakuya came a step closer, arms folding across his chest and eyes narrowing at the facetious tone. "The zanpakutō of Unohana Retsu. The one you stole from Soul Society after she left it behind. I am now certain you hid it somewhere in this world."

Ichigo turned to regard him, the paring knife held in his hand as though in preparation for attack. "Yeah. It's a big world. Lots of places to hide things. Especially stuff that nobody should be getting their hands on anytime soon."

He was behaving intractably. Byakuya had expected this. Anything which presented harm to his own son Noboru would be met with rampant aggression. So it was with a certain measure of reluctance that he admitted to the conclusion which had come to him earlier. "She is using it to enter your world. That is how Unohana came to be here."

A brief flash of alarm and disbelief passed over the human's face before lapsing back into a scowl. "So she did make it out. Why'd it take her so long?"

"I cannot say." They faced one another in what might be a certain measure of commiseration. The experience was new to both, and entirely unwelcome. "However I do not believe Unohana has managed to escape in full. Rather it is more likely she is using Minazuki as a conduit to breach the dimensions and inhabit gigai through a form of possession. While able to move and participate in your world, there could be a limit on how much power she can actually manifest by such a means. Of course this is all speculation."

"I have a feeling like you're getting to a point," Ichigo turned back to his mundane chores. "So let me guess: you want me to hand Minazuki over to you."

"That would be the most sensible course of action."

Strawberries and kiwi were ladled into a small plastic bowl. "Maybe. Of course that might be exactly what she wants; for us to reveal her sword's hiding place so she can swoop in and take possession when we try to move it."

Byakuya said nothing.

Draping a towel over his shoulder, Kurosaki picked up the bowl before heading out of the kitchen. "C'mon. Jaku woke up a while ago and needs a midnight snack. It's past time you wished him happy birthday."

Clearly the conversation had been settled to one of their satisfactions. There was no sense pressing the matter, not when Rukia might hear and start asking questions which could require lying to her. Byakuya preferred to avoid that as much as possible. And it was true; formalities must be observed. With that he followed Ichigo into the family area.

Rukia looked up with a radiant smile as they entered. "Nii-sama. Welcome!"

"Rukia," he greeted her. Brother and sister then turned their attention to where baby Kujaku was squirming uncomfortably in a highchair. He sucked on his fingers, dark eyes focusing on Byakuya, only to pop the sticky digits out and reach for him with an emphatic, "Bak!" It had come to be the recognized greeting for his uncle. Adroitly the phantom lord moved past his sibling and her lover to take the baby's chubby fingers in his own. "Well met as always, nephew," he responded with grave courtesy. "Happy Birthday."

His gift had come in the form of an expensive set of horsehair brushes. It would have been awkward bringing mortal goods with him, so he had arranged for their delivery beforehand. Jaku loved to play with the soft bristles and would pass their dry tips over everything while gabbling excitedly, as though writing stories only he could see. There was no time to engage in such activities, though, as the baby finally noticed his father bearing food. Immediately he stretched out his hands wearing a look of utter devotion. With a grin Ichigo set the bowl in front of him, and the child began picking up red and green fruits to stuff them eagerly into his mouth.

With him so preoccupied, Rukia came to her elder brother's side. "Did you meet with her?" she asked anxiously.

Byakuya's eyes drifted away. "She appeared. We communicated our intentions to one another, little more. There is cause for hope. Beyond that I cannot be certain."

She digested this information in silence. Clearly the topic of her actions regarding Unohana remained a source of discomfort. Rather than prolong the discussion, he strove to change her focus. "Were the festivities to your liking?"

Talk of the baby managed to divert her attention with impressive haste. "You should have seen him, Nii-sama. He was so well-behaved! Noboru played with him for an hour to let us catch up. Michiru came with Uryu, although they had to go back before long. She is still writing, and he brought the most charming outfit for Jaku! Let me find it."

The rest of the visit continued on happier topics. Kujaku ate his fill and was soon visibly tired, so they put him down in a crib provided by the grandfather Isshin. It was late in the mortal realm. Byakuya soon made his goodbyes after which he returned to Soul Society. There was much that demanded his attention. But the brief moment of respite did grant him some measure of contentment. For all that they faced, the potential for joy still existed. He need only find a way to grasp securely hold. The future would be here before they knew it. For now, the present felt just fine.

Mayuri strode into the Ibis Captain's office and dropped the pamphlet unceremoniously on his desk. Kisuke Urahara smiled blithely with hands laced beneath his chin. "Thank you, my dear friend."

There was no need to ask what they contained. He had watched the entire proceedings as they were transmitted through Mayuri's eye-camera courtesy of Nemu. Still, her parent obviously felt it necessary to spell it out for Urahara's benefit.

"It seems we have been given detailed instructions on how to fashion a Royal Key, taichou."

He had guessed as much. Which meant they currently had one of the two items necessary to breach Nirvana's barrier from this side. All that remained was to fashion another hōgyoku and use it upon the Key in question. After which, Nirvana could be opened once more.

And heaven help them should that ever take place.

'Bibliotheca Corviniana, massive Hungarian library built in late 15th century; Satu Mare, town of conflict where Graff met Burning Man (PICK NAME FOR HIS WIFE!); marriage certificate stored in BC; Holy Roman Empire active after 10th century; fortuneteller to tell Rania?'

Michiru blinked as the laptop in front of her was removed and replaced by a steaming mug of warm milk with honey. Gratefully she accepted this small comfort and took a sip. Her hands ached from typing, and she was starting to feel it in other places as well. Meanwhile Uguisu examined her progress with a critical air. "That will be all for today, I think," she declared and saved the document.

"I think I spend half my time doing historical research instead of actually writing," her client complained.

"A true artist wants to make the best work possible." The office lady bustled about, collecting papers with notes dashed off on them and organizing the lot into a neat system. "Your deadline isn't for another two weeks. That should give you plenty of time from what I gather."

"Do you think so?" Ohgawa took another sip of the nourishing beverage, troubled. "I just get stuck sometimes, and then I start researching to try and stay productive. Half the time it helps. The other half I just worry about whether it'll all make sense." This admission left her feeling restless, and she settled down the mug to reach for the laptop once again. "Just one more paragraph, to start off the Budapest section! Then I'll quit."

"No. You mustn't push yourself." Uguisu snapped up the device before she could reach it and tilted her glasses down to give the girl a meaningful look. "It's enough to have this time now. You need to conserve your strength."

"But I'm fine, really! I slept on the train back. If I work hard I might even get it done by tomorrow."

A hand cupped her cheek tenderly.

"My dear…"

Surprised at this contact, Michiru glanced up. The older woman gazed down at her. She wore a smile of imperturbable patience.

"My dear, you are not fine," Uguisu said. "You are dying."

"Wha…?" The physical contact had grown uncomfortable, and she pulled away fast. "What did you say?"

Uguisu shook her head and took off her glasses, as though lecturing a fussy infant. Her face still held that charming appeal which looked out of place on those usually stoic features.

But her right eye was dragging off to one side, almost like it might slide out of her face.

"I said you are dying." The voice remained polite, but there was an eerie calmness which did not match the words being spoken. "There is a cancer in your very bones. It has been spreading throughout you for years, but by my estimation, it will accelerate sometime in the next 18 months. You have that long to live for certain. After which, no one can say."

The teen stared, aghast. Nothing she just heard made sense. Was this all a dream?

"Why are you saying this?!" she demanded.

And here the beautiful woman smiled again. Her eye had rolled down completely in its socket, leaving only a blank white orb staring out. Ohgawa felt spellbound by the sight, unable to speak or move.

"I love your stories, Michiru-chan," that sinister voice crooned. "I truly do. They're quite simply the most entertainment I've found since my return. It might not seem like a long life to you now, twenty years. But I envy you even that much. Not all of us are given an opportunity to make our mark in this world, my dear. What's truly important is what you are able to accomplish with your life. How you will be remembered, what you produce… the things you love that must be left behind. The love you have for all of them… it shows in your work. Which is why I hope you complete your story, child. For their sake… as well as yours."

Suddenly the eyeball rolled back up, and it had grown completely black.

"SLEEP."

Michiru did so, drifting off so naturally there wasn't a chance to protest. In doing so she forget everything that had just been said to her, though the lingering memory served to give her bad dreams later on.

Fast asleep, the tiny girl shivered uncontrollably, sweating without stop. In response Uguisu took a blanket from the back of the couch and draped it over her. She placed her hand against that warm forehead. No magic passed between them, but the simple act of touch appeared to act as a balm, allowing Michiru's symptoms to subside briefly.

Uguisu turned out the lights before leaving. They would have time to work tomorrow. Much to do. The lives of so many people demanded her attention. One must take great care when inflicting pain to treat a disease. Her patients would hardly thank her… Rukia, Renji, Byakuya, Ichigo, Noboru. And of course, little Kujaku. She would treat them all with loving devotion.

Until it came time to stop.

To be continued…