Lifted Up

by Tomas the Betrayer

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

26. Winter's Touch: The Lies That Bind

Hiruko wondered where she was.

The little girl looked around. She lay in the corner of a large room, bigger than her whole house. It was bright and empty, with a low ceiling and tatami mats on the floor. The walls were sliding screens like at home. But they had pictures on them; mountains and trees, birds and people. This was not her home.

A person knelt in the center of the floor, painting on a huge sheet of paper.

The little girl rose and padded over on bare feet. The room's other occupant did not notice her approach. Long black hair ran down the painter's back, very smooth and straight, so Hiruko automatically wanted to touch it. But then she spotted something strange. On the floor next to them was a white mask like the kind she wore at festivals. It was shaped like a beautiful woman's face, eyes closed as though asleep. Curiously Hiruko picked up the mask, examining it from front to back. She shook it to see if the lady would wake up, but she did not.

Meanwhile the painter still had taken no notice of her. Instead she (for Hiruko thought it was a woman now) began to grind more ink on a black stone in the tray before her, focusing on this task to the exclusion of all else. The girl moved closer to see what she was so busy drawing, but it proved to be words she couldn't read.

After a while Hiruko grew bored of watching. She peered around for something to do, and spied several more brushes in a stand by the lady's knee. Happily the little girl selected one, and began to write her name on the paper just as she had been taught. Beside her the artist continued to grind more ink, solemn and quiet. The two of them worked side by side for a time.

Then her brush ran dry, and Hiruko leaned over to rub the bristles across the wet inkstone.

So intent was she on this, she did not notice the woman beside her grow still.

Hiruko got back to work, humming a song as she returned to her craft. She tried to hold her arm still just as Oji-san instructed. He had painted a picture that hung on the wall of her room since she was a baby. It was Hiruko's name, written very neatly. She often practiced copying it. Kaa-san said her Nii-san was a great artist, and one day she would be too. Her mother liked to draw little characters when she told her bedtime stories, and they were always funny.

Slowly, the black-haired woman's head turned to stare at the child.

Who are you?

Blinking, Hiruko looked up, and screamed.

How did you get in here? WHO ARE YOU?

The girl just screamed and screamed without thought, scrambling backwards to get away. Her hand bumped against something, and Hiruko looked down to see the mask from before. But now the face was awake. It looked at her, yellow eyes wide and frightened. The mouth moved. "Run away, child!" it whispered urgently. "Flee from here! Go now!"

WHO ARE YOU?!

The madwoman came racing towards her on hands and knees, screaming and snarling, flinging her awful head back and forth. Terror took hold. Snatching up the mask, Hiruko sprang up and ran. She didn't know where to go, the walls all looked the same, she couldn't tell which was the door. In desperation the stricken child grabbed a frame and pulled. It refused to budge. She tore at the paper screen with her fingers, but it held firm.

A hand caught hold of her wrist to wrench her around. Horrified, the girl gaped up at the demonic thing looming overhead.

"Girl!"

Her head snapped down. Still clutched in her fist, the talking mask stared back at her and spoke again. "Put the mask on her face! Quickly, child!"

An awful howl shook the room. When Hiruko looked up the creature was bending down to devour her, and with a wail she swung up her hand, thrusting the mask forward as she did.

Her fingers struck the wall so hard it hurt. Hiruko clutched them to her chest, gasping with pain, tears running hot down her cheeks. For a moment she couldn't breathe, and wildly the girl looked around to try and locate the source of this evil.

But all she saw was her room, dark and quiet, with soft moonlight peeking under the curtains.

"To–!" the frightened child choked, sucked in a breath and screamed, "TŌ-SAN!"

The sound of cursing, followed by bumping and racing feet, then her father yanked open the door and came charging in. She stretched out her hands for him hopefully as he stumbled to the bed to draw his daughter into the circle of his strong arms. She wept in gratitude now, pressing her face into his shirt, finally certain that she was safe.

"Shhh!" her father whispered, stroking her head while she shivered. "It's okay, don't be scared, you're safe. Don't worry, princess. I've got you."

"Hiruko!"

She peeked over his broad shoulder, and there was Kaa-san in a yutaka hurrying to join them. Her older brother Jaku hung by the doorframe, watching anxiously. Their parents knelt together, seeking to reassure their traumatized daughter and one another.

"Was it a nightmare?"

"I think so, she hasn't said anything yet. Jaku, it's okay, go back to bed. Your sister just had a bad dream, is all."

"Ichigo, her arm! Look at the mark on her wrist, it looks like a Ho–!"

"Koko?" The older boy used the nickname to address her, shuffling closer. "Was it the monster? The one with orange eyes?"

"Kujaku, do what your father says and go back to–!"

"No…" Hiruko whispered, and they all grew quiet. She looked at them, trying to find a way to describe what she had seen. "The lady!"

"Lady?" her father frowned, glancing at her mother questioningly.

Hiruko shuddered at the awful memory, and began to cry anew. "The Lady! The Lady with a hole for a face!"

Then she broke down sobbing, and nothing her parents said or did could make her stop.

---

Servants lay scattered along the hallway. Dead or worse, Aizen couldn't be bothered to find out. Those living pressed themselves against the wall as their master raced past, not daring to look at his terrible visage. He flung twisted bodies out of the way and wrenched open the door. "Retsu!" the Lord of Heaven cried out.

Blood spattered the walls like paint. Broken remains of vassals littered the floor. Their uncaring mistress swept back and forth across the drawing room in an agitated state, head nearly brushing the ceiling, the hem of her fine robes trailing through ink and gore to leave a gruesome smear on mats and parchment paper with every step.

"Where are you?" Unohana panted. "Where are you?! I know you are here, there is nowhere to hide! Show yourself! Where ARE YOU?!"

"Retsu." He approached warily now. The mask was on, but clearly something had put her out of sorts. Drawing nearer, the master of this domain laid a hand on her sleeve. He spoke in a calm, clear voice. "Retsu, please. I am here. Tell me what is wrong."

She drew to a halt and looked down at him. For a moment there was no sign she even knew who he was. Then her burning yellow eyes softened in recognition. "Sosuke… my dear child."

Unohana reached a hand up to place over his own, patting it softly. Her skin felt cold, and he grew even more concerned. "Retsu," Aizen guided her down to sit. "Tell me what happened. Who has caused you such distress? Shall I send for Halibel?"

Her head shook violently as she settled her large frame. "It was no one I have ever seen before. A child, Sosuke. Right here, in this room!"

A thought occurred to him. "Was it the boy Kujaku? Were you dreaming?"

"No."

Slowly she turned to peer at him, and Sosuke Aizen felt dread surge through his bones at the expression on his mother's bone-white face. "I did not dream this, Sosuke. She was with me. I touched her." She brushed a hand over one smooth white cheek. "I felt it! I… ohh…"

Those proud features suddenly fell, and a single red tear ran down her mask.

"Sosuke… I hurt her! I hurt another child."

A broken, empty moan echoed from that open mouth. Uttering this eerie lament, the sorceress bent low to place her head in his lap, sobbing with deepest regret. Her dutiful son stroked her hair, aggrieved at seeing her in this state again. Silently he gazed about the room, reflecting on how to proceed; what commands to give, what warnings to issue, which of the surviving servants who had seen her like this would have to die. Tosen could handle that. He deserved the pain.

In doing so, his keen eye spied something then that seemed out of place. On the floor, the paper Unohana had been working on remained, wrinkled and smeared black and red. Most of what she had drawn was obliterated by the mess.

But down by the edge, another hand had scrawled something. Small, clumsy, like a child trying to imitate their elders. Aizen saw the name written there, and spoke it aloud.

"Hiruko…"

---

"You there! What are you doing?!"

Rukia looked up. A shinigami was approaching, fresh out of the Academy by the look of him. He clearly hadn't gotten used to wearing the assigned black battle uniform as he jogged up to her, adjusting his soul cutter as it banged against his hip. The hem of his jacket front was pale green, indicating he belonged to Leopard Company. He drew to a halt and glowered, hand on the hilt of his sword. "I said…!"

"Good evening," she told him. "I am just here to reflect." And with that she went back to smoothing the small blanket out on the ground.

The young fellow didn't seem quite sure how to respond to this. He looked around the wide empty plaza of the Seireitei in which they were the only two people visible. It was night, and the stars twinkled overhead. A thought occurred to him. "Er… ma'am, are you lost? I know how easy it is to get turned around here. I'm new, so… that is, I…"

His voice trailed off when she just looked up and smiled. "No, I am not lost. But thank you for checking in. Please don't let me keep you from your patrol."

With that the tiny mystery woman produced some saké dishes and set them out as though expecting company. After this she settled in and seemed perfectly ready to wait all night. The guard watched her for a time, made to draw away, and hesitated. He remembered one of the veteran shinigami mentioning that this particular area used to be restricted. Some underground compound, or a library; he hadn't been paying attention, caught up in trying to memorize the frankly bewildering layout of his assigned territory. It was like a maze designed to confuse and entrap any invading army, with dead-end turns and asymmetrical layouts galore.

He could sense the strength of the small soul in front of him, even though she didn't appear to carry a zanpakutō. Not to mention her kimono was amazing, decorated with cherry blossom branches on which perched birds so artfully crafted they appeared ready to break into song. A wealth of jeweled pins held her short hair in an exquisite arrangement. The whole effect served to leave him feeling shabby by comparison, and her general air of sang-froid only added to that. And this setup… it looked like a picnic. Just what was going on?

Eventually he reached a decision, and bowed to her. "I'll be nearby if you need anything, ma'am. You may… ah… carry on."

"Thank you," the pretty lady smiled at him. "And don't forget to check in with your squad every twelve minutes. Rounds go by faster if you follow the rules."

He seemed confused, and merely sketched a hasty bow to her before trotting off.

Rukia watched him go. The sense of his soul signature diminished with distance. She had a better idea of this territory than he did. It would take him a good half hour to find his way back to this spot, and that was assuming he didn't get lost along the way. More than enough time to finish her reason for being here. Assuming her cohort made it on time. With that she settled in to wait.

Not a minute later, a noise came to her ears. It was like rice crackers crumbling. Rukia glanced over to a patch of wall which seemed to be coming loose. A short figure emerged out of it as though passing through the masonry. He inspected the surroundings, dusted himself off, and came ambling over. "Good evening, Kuchiki-ojousama." The man flashed a gleaming grin.

"Mayuri-sama," she returned formally, making room for him on the picnic blanket.

Mayuri Kurotsuchi, chief researcher of the Shinigami Research and Development Bureau, then proceeded to take his seat beside her. Anyone familiar with the amoral genius might have a hard time recognizing him right now. He had abandoned his usual dramatic ensemble in favor of a simple brown coat over a personalized royal purple battle uniform. Even more remarkable, his skin was a normal hue, and he lacked any trace of makeup. Ashizogi Jizo still swung between his legs, but he quickly unhooked the sheathe and laid it beside him.

"Forgive the interruption," she told him. "I no longer have access to the local patrol schedule, and my information was out of date. It seems they rotated it since last year. I hope you weren't waiting long."

"No matter," Mayuri gave a desultory flick of his long-nailed hand. "I would have ki… taken care of him if he insisted on intruding any further. Our anniversary is something I look forward to all year. And I have a tight schedule."

"Of course." So saying, Rukia retrieved the saké cups. They were of the finest porcelain, so thin as to be almost translucent, and lacking any decoration whatsoever. She held one out to him, which the incognito academic accepted. For his part, from beneath his coat he brought out a smoky green glass bottle shaped like a coiled dragon. Cracking the seal, he popped the cork and measured out two libations, one for him and one for her.

Beneath the summer moon, philosopher and princess raised a toast to each other. "It is good to be alive!" he reflected merrily, and threw back his drink.

"Yes," Rukia intoned as she took a more modest sip. "It is."

"Even more so knowing others are not," Mayuri added. His golden eyes scrunched up on the happiest grin imaginable, and he chuckled as he refilled his cup.

"Mmm," the young mother remarked noncommittally. Seven years ago, on this very night by their estimations, the Central 46 of Soul Society were slaughtered to a man beneath their feet. The same prestigious body of ex-captains and scholars who pronounced unjust sentence on both of them. Well, unjust in her case, but Mayuri certainly considered his imprisonment unwarranted. And for the last four years, ever since his return to sanity, they had made a point to meet here and toast their continued survival.

A petty, malicious memorial, perhaps. But we are none of us saints, after all.

Rukia took another sip. It was a fine brew, really. He had selected well this year. Most people would consider any drink offered by Mayuri Kurotsuchi as a prelude to drugged sleep, followed by waking up strapped to a table while being earnestly dissected. But as the Patroness to his studies, and a fundamental reason the majority of his staff preferred to work under his auspices, she enjoyed a rather unusual level of trust with the homicidal doctor. As long as the funding kept flowing in, she was reasonably certain he wouldn't choose to terminate their working relationship, one way or another.

"Have you had any more children?" he asked suddenly.

She had to suppress a shiver at discussing this with him. Mayuri Kurotsuchi did not inspire comfort at the best of times. And this topic in particular was… sensitive. "No, Excellency."

"Your last one was a girl, yes?"

"My daughter. Her name is Hiruko."

"Ah. Yes. Interesting choice." He traced his little finger around the rim of his cup, then sucked the tip experimentally. "I don't suppose…?"

"You are not free to meet her," she spoke coldly, leaving not even an ounce of threat out of her voice. It felt wrong hearing him expressing even oblique interest in her children. A mother's instinct told her to drop this conversation before it got out of hand.

Mayuri just shrugged. "Hardly a promising research avenue, anyway. I understand the child has not even a trace of spiritual power, is that right?"

One of the pins in her hair burned with icy wrath, as the disguised Sode no Shirayuki expressed her own displeasure at Mayuri's complete disregard of simple human compassion. Her guardian spirit had insisted this tradition of theirs should end, if only because the dead were better off forgotten in this case. But Rukia persevered. She knew how easy it was to get on Mayuri's bad side. And their working relationship was always a high-wire act, at least for her. There was never any certainty about what he might say or propose next. Better to stay in this particular devil's good graces. I have enough bitter enemies in my life.

"Hiruko cannot see spirits, as far as we can tell."

"Well, that just means you'll have to take extra special care of her."

Rukia threw a searching glance at her drinking partner, but Mayuri didn't follow up on this surprising comment. In fact, he was the one who seemed uncomfortable now, scratching at his cheek and grimacing as though that last statement had given him pain. With a sour curl of his lip he took another drink. "I'm told the last of the Halos will be emptied within a year."

"Yes." Thanks to her continued interaction with Lord Arashi, she had stayed abreast of current events despite no longer being an official shinigami. "The final plane has entered construction. I believe it is simply called… Paradise."

"Paradise?" He tilted his head introspectively, gazing at the stars. "So they called this place once. And then they lost sight of what counted, leaving us with paradise… lost." He chuckled to himself. "And to think they called me mad!"

Before she could respond, Mayuri threw her a sharp look. "Has she contacted you again?"

No need to ask who he meant. "We have not heard from Unohana in three years."

He grunted and turned his attention to the stars again. Rukia felt a need for something to warm her, and so downed the liquor in one great gulp. She had spoken with few people about her interactions with Retsu Unohana since the birth of Kujaku. The imprisoned captain of Soul Society had made contact with her family on several occasions.

"They're attacking us in dreams, you know."

Rukia stilled in pouring herself another cup. "Pardon?"

"Their loss of resources in terms of active personnel has been substantial. Those traitor Vaizard, the Wild Hunt, Grimmjow Jaguerjaques, various shinigami loyal to their cause… gone!" He snapped his fingers brusquely. "And while Unohana can project herself to the mortal world through gigai, those are finite options. But more esoteric methods remain available to them. And she will use every available opportunity to strike at you."

When Rukia continued to stare at him blankly, his nostrils flared, and he wagged a blue-nailed claw in her face. "Hear this, Ojousama. I choose to abide by the sacrifice you consented to make, out of courtesy. But if your benighted brother and clumsy consort have not made this clear to you by now, let me say this much: Unohana Retsu cannot be trusted. Whatever happened to her after the sealing of Nirvana, the state she currently inhabits poses a threat to you, your children, and everyone you hold dear." He turned away from her, chewing his lip, eyes hooded and filled with dark wrath. "There is no more dangerous enemy than one you once counted as a friend."

Stubborn valor compelled her to come to Unohana's defense. "I admit… her actions since then have left me… bewildered. But I think it unwise to write off such a powerful and proven champion of Soul Society based on personal spite."

"Really." He offered her a speculative glance. "Did her crippling your lover not leave you with even the smallest bit of animosity, then?"

A wave of cold washed over him as the small shinigami's eyes glowed faintly. "No more than is warranted," she replied.

Mayuri tapped his incisors, eyes round with curiosity as he stared at her. Then he chuckled. "Well… the fact you still attend this little anniversary of ours should have reassured me you haven't lost that old fire which made you so attractive to certain parties." Before she could even wonder what he might mean by that, Mayuri reached out to refill her cup. "But let me share a hypothesis before we drop this line of conversation, Ojousama. As someone familiar with the precise application of both pain and revenge in terms of my pursuits, it is painfully obvious to me what is happening in regards to you and the residents of Nirvana."

His golden eyes fastened on her with chilling intensity. "Aizen and his cadre; they are spawning monsters to challenge Soul Society. But in addition to that, they are hurting you. Any way they can."

Instinctively Rukia wanted to object that she was not important enough to warrant such attention, but experience told her to hold back. Instead she asked only, "Assuming that is the case, to what end?"

Satisfied at her agreement, Mayuri continued his analysis. "Simple: they want you to hate them. Hate them to the point that it consumes your rationality. Hate them so much, it blinds you to any risk, concern, or duty, until the only thing that matters is burying your sword in their hearts and watching the life drain from their eyes! To achieve that, you will do anything. Even break the seal on Nirvana yourself if you have to! Hatred, after all, is a powerful motivator."

He was positively vibrating with excitement when he spoke, and the overripe fruit scent of his reiatsu proved so strong she had difficulty breathing. Mayuri made note of her discomfort. Oddly, he took steps to ameliorate it, drawing his powerful soul presence back under control before continuing.

"Have care with your loved ones, Ojousama. To lose a family member… hurts the most."

This vacillating between creepy psycho and concerned father-figure was even more unsettling than usual. It was not the first time Mayuri had spoken in a way that left her wondering whether his imprisonment after the Autumn War had left him deranged to the extent that he came out the other side somewhat sane.

Crazier things have happened.

She almost asked him about this. Instead Rukia remembered her manners, and chose instead to change the subject. "Have you decided on which heavenly plane you would like to inhabit, Excellency?"

"Indeed!" He sounded smugly confident, as though congratulating himself on having made the best possible pick. "I chose to make my official home in Pandemonium, where neighbors are few and the design lends itself to more creative displays than the syrupy-sweet confines of those other soft realms."

Pandemonium was indeed one of the more sparsely populated planes fashioned over the last seven years. Most souls only went there as a form of extreme sport or recreation, not to settle down. But several other members of the R&D Bureau had chosen it as their primary residence. The Rukongai could conceivably be totally deserted in just a few more years.

As for the Court of Pure Souls… it remained the principal dwelling of the Four Great Houses, their subordinate clans, and the Gotei 7. But all the shinigami had been given the option to have other living spaces allotted to them in the new domains, and most had taken them up on this offer. It was a place to return to after the day was done, to enjoy the comforts of the afterlife that had been denied them for ages past when their lives were about little more than service. Perhaps even to raise a family.

"Has the world improved from the changes we made, do you think?" she asked suddenly.

Mayuri settled back on his hand and gazed at the star-speckled heavens. "I care little for such plebeian notions," he commented casually. Then, in a different tone of voice, "But numbers do not lie, Ojousama. The incidents of Hollow attacks in the mortal realm are at an all-time low, and even more telling, the formation of new Hollows appears to have dropped in the last few years. Yet shinigami remain in short supply. Last term's graduation was the smallest in living memory. There is still much research to be done. Still, I would hesitate to posit that, in terms of fulfillment, our efforts have contributed to an overall better standard of living in both worlds."

He then held out his cup. "To us, my dear."

They clinked their drinks together, mindful not to damage the porcelain, before going back to appreciating this fine evening and all the benefits of continued existence.

When the shinigami on patrol came back nearly an hour later, he found no trace that anyone had been there at all.

---

"We've seen a marked decrease in Hollow attacks these last few years," Ryuko Ryuhime said as she set a cup of tea on the captain's desk.

Hitsugaya picked it up and gazed into its depths for a moment. "Tiger has practically set up shop in Hueco Mundo since the war." He sipped leisurely and settled back in his seat with a groan. "With Siamese to aid them, that's roughly a quarter of our combined strength focused on nothing but exterminating Hollows. Seen from that perspective, it comes as no surprise."

His Fifth Seat picked up the tray, pausing on her way out. "I'd feel more comfortable if our own ranks saw a proportionate jump. The last few graduating classes have been getting smaller and smaller. It makes me wonder if there might not be a correlation."

He quirked a snowy eyebrow at her. "What, something like the fewer Hollows, the fewer people born with shinigami powers?"

"Just a thought, Captain." She shrugged and gave a smile on her way out.

Hitsugaya spent a few minutes going over logistics and patrol reports, but his heart wasn't really in it. Not for the first time, he found himself considering his new role in the afterlife and that of his unit. The Halos were no longer a priority. Since the formation of the Gotei 7, the Heavenly Relocation Oases had been specifically assigned to Leopard Company's protection. Officers from other squads oversaw bureaucratic details, but his people were the official shinigami who handled security for those temporary shelters.

At first, it had seemed like a good match. But after a while, when it became apparent the Hollows couldn't muster anything close to a concerted effort after the war, he had started to chafe at the leash. Leopard Squad could do more than run patrols in the Seireitei and stake out the Halos. But time and again, Lord-Commander Kuchiki rejected his proposals for missions in Hueco Mundo or joint assaults with the more bombastic divisions. That fight against the Wild Hunt was the last real action they saw, and this only because it had come out of nowhere while they were engaged with Siamese and Viper in a sting operation that supposedly held minimal threat. It had taken intense pressure to get Greyhound to even let him do that much. The unexpected jaunt into the living world to battle immortal brutes was a gift horse not to be overlooked.

And then there was the personal training. For nearly eight years now, Tōshirō had enjoyed the close tutorship of the head of Greyhound Company himself, Lord-Commander Byakuya Kuchiki, 28th head of that house and the strongest in history. But again, his initial opinion of that arrangement being favorable was drastically lessened over time. It was not, as he had expected, an opportunity to cross swords with the strongest head of that major household in all its history. Instead, Hitsugaya found himself made to endure endless treatises on the nature of the soul, meditating to better commune with his zanpakutō, and full-blown scholarly lectures overseen by old greybeards who hadn't picked up a sword in ages.

To put it mildly, Tōshirō was losing his mind.

And then, of course, there was another more personal matter left unresolved.

Feeling restless, he decided to ask for an update on that personally. He rose and exited his office. Immediately his Second Seat Hisagi Shuhei sprang up and saluted. "Heading out, Taichou?"

"I'm going to visit Greyhound," the small officer informed him. "Keep a lid on things until I get back."

"Yes, sir." The tattooed warrior opened some files and got to work.

Hitsugaya made good time and soon found himself in Greyhound Company's headquarters. Passing shinigami bowed and he acknowledged them as he made his way to the inner offices. There he found the Second Seat and diligent public servant Izuru Kira speaking to some low-ranked personnel.

Upon catching sight of the small head of Leopard Company, the gloomy-looking blonde dismissed his subordinates and came over to greet him. "Captain Hitsugaya. How can I be of help?" He bowed, then came up. "I'm afraid Kuchiki-soutaichou isn't here right now.

"Actually, it's you I wanted to speak with."

"Oh?" Kira's only visible eyebrow rose, and he tucked one hand in his jacket almost furtively. He never liked being called out on things, always assuming the worst, like he was expecting to be upbraided at any given moment. This had been the case even before, when he worked under Gin Ichimaru. Or maybe because of that.

No great surprise, really. The Third used to be a specialized support division. A sort of jack-of-all-trades, able to help any of their fellow squads whether in terms of combat, spellcraft, or recon. Everyone used to think of the Second Division as the ones who handled any nasty business that wasn't publicly acknowledged, like assassinations or disappearances. But in truth, over the centuries, it had been the Third who dealt with truly unsavory acts, usually under the pretense of assisting other divisions. That's what made their members so tight-lipped and suspicious most of the time. The Third were habitually uncommunicative when it came to their work.

Still, Kira was the one he needed to speak with. "I wanted to know if there have been any sightings of Momo."

The dour lieutenant grew still. His hooded eye flickered slightly as though questing for eavesdroppers, and he hesitated before speaking. "No, sir. Lieutenant Hinamori's status since the war remains… 'Missing'."

Tōshirō continued to watch the other man carefully. For the past seven years he had afforded the two traitor lieutenants their due, such as it were. The captains all agreed to this prior to casting the memory charm on them. Hisagi Shuhei and Izuru Kira were permitted to have the futures once denied them by Aizen's machinations. That meant they had no memory of what they or Momo did. As far as they knew, their valued comrade had been lost in the battle and never heard from again. But it was hard. Just like dealing with Rukia and Renji sometimes, who while proven loyal, remained unaware to what lengths their own fears had driven them.

On the topic of Momo, however. Tōshirō was willing to push the boundaries. She, after all, never had any spell cast on her. And from what she admitted, her crimes were far more heinous. Nanao continued to insist her defeat of Hinamori had robbed the madwoman of her spiritual strength completely, rendering her a normal plus. Yet even then, a lost soul still posed a threat. And after five years of searching, since the petrification spell on her was broken, not a trace had been found.

Momo's free. And I have to take responsibility for her. "I just wanted to make sure," he said in what he hoped was a friendly manner. "We're all hoping to find her well. Excuse me." And he made to depart.

"Sir…" Kira added, a habitual wariness in his words. He swallowed when those piercing green eyes turned to regard him again. Yet still the downcast minor noble mustered his resolve. "I never said this before, but… I'm very grateful you never stopped searching for Hinamori. Since that day, when we all four survived the attack on the Academy graduates… we've tried to remain close, no matter our change in rank."

One captain, Tōshirō thought, two lieutenants, and one fugitive. Those are quite the disparate lifestyles.

"But even then," Izuru continued, "after the war, when we couldn't find her… none of us were certain what to think. We lost so many that day, and with Aizen's Kyoka Suigetsu further complicating the matter, making some of us look like traitors… I always thought the reason Momo… I mean, Hinamori disappeared was because… she followed him. Into Nirvana. I wish I could say for sure why, maybe to confront him or… well, that's moot at this point."

He then looked the captain square in the eye, his jaw resolutely clenched. "I never had the courage to ask we conduct an official investigation, even after our position had improved and we weren't always running ourselves ragged trying to restore Soul Society. So five years ago, when you did… I was grateful. As Hinamori's friend, I want to thank you for not giving up on her. And I want you to know that I won't either. Even if it takes the rest of my life, I won't stop searching."

"Even if you don't like what you find?" Hitsugaya asked before he could stop himself.

Kira blinked, then ducked his head. "I'm used to disappointment by now, sir."

There was little left to discuss after that, and so Hitsugaya took his leave. On his walk out of the office, he passed numerous shinigami, all of whom made way respectfully for the small scowling soldier in the white cloak. None of their faces were familiar to him. They were not with Leopard, of that much he was certain. Ever since the end of the war, Tōshirō made sure to familiarize himself with every single recruit under his command, regardless of strength or station. It wasn't like there were that many, really, even after combining the old Tenth Division with the Eighth. Ryuko's words came back to him then. Was it true the Academy was having fewer graduates every year? A troubling sign.

Those born with spiritual power do not always host a zanpakutō.

I'd like to know more about that, actually. What does draw you to your wielders in the first place?

We go where we are needed.

That's not much of an answer.

Isn't it? Do you not take comfort at the thought that something so simple could explain how you are blessed with the means to defend yourself and others? Life is hardly ever so convenient.

I could ask the division that keeps track of these things. That would be Ibis now.

Or you might hie yourself to the Arashi. They never left off their cataloguing of our travels, if I recall.

So what made you choose me, anyway?

You were born in grief. I chose you to lessen that factor.

Hitsugaya stopped in the middle of the street. Other pedestrians darted past him with great haste, compelled by the sense of an arctic storm front building in that location.

Have I upset you?

How much of my past do you know, Hyōrinmaru?

I am aware of precious little more than you.

Don't act coy! Did you know my parents?!

No.

Then what the hell can you tell me?!

Ask the one who would know best.

This served to remind him of where he had been going next, and so Hitsugaya chose to end the conversation there. He flash-stepped across the roofs of the Court of Pure Souls, slipped through the Western Gate with only a flash of his coat for identification, and made his way into what had once been the First ring of the Rukongai, Junrinan, now all but deserted. Only the direct family and close associates of the shinigami remained here where once there had been a thriving center of commerce and industry.

The small house in the woods remained exactly the same. Dried leaves crunched under his soft tabi shoes as he approached. There was the smell of woodsmoke and home cooking in the air. Hardly a surprise. She always had a meal ready whenever one of them came home.

All the same, Hitsugaya knocked on the door. "Granny?"

"Hello, my boy," her voice called back. "Come in, I'll have supper ready in a bit."

The boy captain smiled as he entered, taking off his shoes and resting Hyōrinmaru against a wall. He noted the small house remained clean but sparse. Granny had refused relocation to a Halo, which was her right. She said she wanted to be here for them whenever they needed it. This place was home.

Hitsugaya also noted a few other things. There was only one pair of shoes at the front entrance. And the doors leading off to their private rooms were closed. Nothing suspicious so far.

He took a seat at the living room table. Soon enough his grandmother came bustling out of the kitchen, carrying a hotpot in her trembling arms. When he got up to take the heavy implement from her, she smiled gratefully. "Welcome home, young man."

"Hey, Granny." He put the stew on the table and gave her the hug both of them needed. His grandmother had regained some of her previous plumpness from his younger days, but she still seemed disturbingly undernourished. Whenever he brought the topic up on his visits, she waved him off, insisting an old woman like her did better the less weight she had to carry around. Hitsugaya had always half-hoped his departure would help her get back to more stable health. In twenty-five years, that had not yet proven to be the case.

"How are things here?" he asked when she moved to set the table, flatly refusing his help in that respect. "There don't seem to be many people around."

"It's peaceful," the old woman assured him. "I haven't had another soul come by since your last visit. But I can still get ahold of enough to get by."

Guilt kept him silent as she continued. Regardless of his position in the afterlife, he should make more time to stop in and be there for her. Not like Granny had a lot of options for getting around on her own. Regular souls like her didn't need to eat the way shinigami did. Still, there were other considerations for health besides food. Company meant a great deal. He, of all people, should know that.

Soon enough there was a hearty meal set out before them. He and Granny set to, enjoying the piping hot broth chock full of meat, veggies and spices. Money sent from two shinigami officers over the years meant Granny could afford more than enough without having to forage in the woods like less fortunate people, even here in the relatively affluent First ring. They had lived simple, nondescript lives back before he and Momo graduated, though he could never recall actually going hungry at any time prior to that. Granny always managed to find a way to provide for her children.

Which brings us to why I'm really here.

"Have you been sleeping well?" she queried him suddenly. "You look tired. You know what they say about getting a full night's rest."

"I'm taking naps most of the time," he reassured her, then quickly parried before she could make further comment. He didn't like to think she would hide anything from him, but this might just qualify. "Granny… has Momo been by since last we spoke?"

His caregiver had a drink of tea, setting the cup down with a sad sigh. "No, my dear. I haven't seen her. Have you… has there been any word?"

"None."

Granny was one of the few people he had let in on the full truth regarding Momo. Not just her imprisonment under Nanao's curse, but also the things that led up to it, and what he suspected about her escape. This woman had raised both of them since birth, as far as he could tell. She deserved to know what was really going on where her charges were concerned.

"She must have gone to ground somewhere," he admitted bitterly. "But other than here… I can't think of any place Hinamori would feel safe. And without her powers, she couldn't escape to the other realms. She's somewhere in Soul Society. I'm sure of that much. And I made sure the Halo security knows to keep an eye out for her, even if they don't know exactly why. As far as everyone else is concerned, I'm just looking to find our lost comrade."

"Poor Momo. She must be so afraid." Granny offered him seconds, which he accepted just to please her.

It was time to ask the hard questions. "Granny?"

She urgently indicated he should take a bite first. There was no choice but to comply. Once he had eaten a fair amount, the saintly old woman appeared satisfied. "Yes, dear boy?"

"Do you know who Momo's parents were?"

Her mouth opened, wrinkle-wrapped eyes squinting as though deep in thought. "No…" she said after a while. "No, I never knew."

There had to be more than just that. "How did she come to be in your care?" For just a second he almost asked, 'And how did I?', but restrained himself at the last second.

Granny's head tilted back and she stared at the thatch roof. There was a hint of trepidation in her voice when she spoke next. "A man came to my door one night. He was no one I had ever seen before, certainly not from around here. He brought Momo with him. She was only a baby, a lovely little thing, so full of life. It was well known in the region that I had another forlorn child in my care, and he asked if I could see after her as well. I said yes."

"Did he say anything more?" Hitsugaya pressed. "Was he related to her? Can you remember anything about him? Was he a shinigami?"

She looked flustered, perhaps at this barrage of questions, so Hitsugaya cut off his interrogation.

"Not a shinigami," Granny eventually decided. "No, you can always tell when one of them was around. They have such presence. This man was no death god. I believe… he must have been a servant."

"How could you tell?"

"The servant class have a certain way of behaving," she explained. "It's ingrained in them. He knew the proper way to address me, and even how to make his request. Still, I could tell he was desperate. I must have been a last resort."

Granny had to take a moment to catch her breath before proceeding. Hitsugaya was so intent on this story he could have screamed at her to go faster. After a long sip of tea, she pressed on. "He didn't strike me as being Momo's father, or anyone related to her for that matter. There was no warmth beyond what you would expect a good man to show towards a child not his own. He gave me a sum of money once I accepted her. To see to her care, he said. From that day on, once a month, I found a little bag by the door. It was just enough to live on without drawing notice to ourselves."

Her tale seemed to end there, for the old woman grew silent. Hitsugaya pondered what he had learned. "Do you still get the money every month?"

To his dismay, she shook her head. "It stopped after you both joined the Academy."

So someone kept watch on us (or just Momo) enough to know when further cash wasn't needed anymore. They could have at least continued for Granny's sake… but maybe they figured the two of us would provide for her and didn't want to risk exposing themselves. Makes sense. They definitely didn't want to be found out. This trail's over twenty years cold.

Another point occurred to him. "How do you know so much about servants, Granny?"

She didn't seem surprised by his question. "In my younger days, I helped run the household for a minor nobleman, but there was a scandal, and I had to be let go."

Tōshirō considered her answer. For the first time, it occurred to him how very little he knew about this elderly gentle soul. He had long suspected that she was not his actual grandmother. 'Granny' was just a form of address adopted by two orphan children towards the only parental figure in their lives. Momo called her that as well, and she definitely wasn't any kin of his. So were we both left here? Granny said she was known for raising one orphan, which must have been why the man brought Momo to her. Could Hinamori have been the child of an aristocratic family, some noblewoman's unwanted get who dispatched their servant to rid them of a troublesome stain on the family name? Maybe they forgot all about her, and it was the servant who kept providing the money out of a sense of obligation.

You do not ask.

What?

I thought you wanted to know more about your past. You've learned how Momo came to be here; why not the same for yourself?

It… wouldn't make any difference. If Granny knew something, she would have told me by now. I must have been left with her just like Momo.

Hers is the only face you can remember, since your youngest days. That much I know.

Look, I just wanted to make sure Momo wasn't here, alright? The rest is ancient history.

You are wrong. There is a secret hanging over this house. Would I could divine it, but alas… I am not that clever.

Just relax. I can handle not knowing. I've come this far.

True. But the only person who can tell you won't live forever.

This chilling statement caused him to take a closer look at Granny. Her face was sagging and wrinkled as ever, and she seemed so small. Were her cheeks always so pale? She seemed to have trouble carrying the pot out before. Is she…?

"Granny?" he asked, a note of fear in his voice. "Are you d… doing alright?"

"Of course, my dear." And she offered him a fond smile. "I'm always good when you're here."

"That's not…"

In the end, he couldn't bring himself to betray his own misgivings, and the frosty-haired shinigami decided not to insist on any more. "I'm happy to see you too."

He stayed a few hours longer, telling her all sorts of news about the Seireitei, until it became apparent Granny was growing tired and he rose to depart. Doubtless there was more paperwork and a summons from Lord-Commander Kuchiki waiting upon his return. She fixed him a few snacks and sent the brave youth off with a loving kiss on the cheek, waving goodbye from the door of her hovel while dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.

When he was gone, the old woman lay down on her pallet and wept.

---

Xiomara struggled to breathe. She could feel the fire coursing up her mother's (and her) skin, mindless and hungry, ignoring her screams as she fought to break free of the ropes that held her to the stake. Not now, she begged. Please, not yet, it's too important! I can't afford to be out of commission now! Please!

Her eyes squeezed shut, tears of pain and grief refusing to fall. And right then, she felt a hand caress her cheek.

When she opened her eyes, there was nothing but soft white light all around, filled with a heaven-sent noise that made her hell-marked soul rejoice. Her mother Suzan was there, cupping her cherished child's face tenderly. Bliss filled every inch of the shapeshifter's being. She reached up to place warm brown fingers over that loving touch, not felt since before Father's fall to damnation. Is this Heaven?

"Xiomara!"

The hand she held was real, and it belonged to… Rania. The Gypsy girl's fangs were sunk deep in her arm, drawing Xiomara's blood into her as well in an attempt to avert or dilute the curse from–

"Oh, hello, Kon!"

Lying on her bed flipping through a manga, Karin's ears perked up. She bolted up and flew out into the hall, racing down the stairs and skidding to a halt before casually sauntering into the kitchen.

"Karin-chan, look!" her sister Yuzu called out upon spotting her. "Kon's home!"

"Hey," she threw out offhandedly before making her way to the refrigerator.

"Nice to see you too, little sister," he grinned.

She got herself a glass and filled it with guava juice. Karin slumped against the wall and took a sip. She eyed Kon. He had on a white t-shirt and baggy jogging clothes so loud they hurt the eye. He still kept his hair cut to a bare fuzz around his head.

"What's up with you two lovely ladies?" he asked, flopping into a chair and crossing his arms over the backrest. "Graduation's coming up soon, right? Figured out where you're going off to college yet?"

"Asano-senpai put in a recommendation for me at Hokkaido University," Yuzu said without a trace of boasting. She turned to give him a mischievous smile. "She asked about you, Kon." There was a wealth of suggestion in her words.

To Karin's surprise, Kon just smiled back. "Mizuho, huh? I heard from her brother that she finally got her doctorate in Business Administration."

"She said she watched you in the World Outdoor Track and Field Championships," she supplied while setting before him a selection of gyoza dumplings with salted edamame to snack on.

"Mmmm!" Kon inhaled deeply with a beatific smile. "Yuzu, I think your culinary skills have only improved over the years!" When Karin let out a snort that managed to convey her opinion of men and their simple appetites, he insisted, "I'm serious! You'll make someone a great wife someday."

He failed to notice the way Karin's eyes narrowed at this comment, while Yuzu just laughed. "Oh, I'm not in any hurry! I've had three boys confess to me since this term started already, so…" She turned away and commenced seasoning some meat. "Yeah."

Kon paused with a third dumpling halfway to his mouth. "That many?" His gaze drifted over to Karin, who made a show of being very interested in her juice. "What about you, imoto-chan? The boys must have come sniffing around at some point, your father and brother notwithstanding."

"That's a stupid question!" she snapped, and leapt up to go stomping from the room.

Leaving the house after he was finally here was not an option, so instead Karin flopped on the divan in the living room and busied herself with games on her phone. She could hear her sister and Kon still chatting, and tried to tune it out. Yuzu was graduating with high marks, and her score on the university entrance exams qualified her for some top schools. Her sister's interest in the paranormal had graduated to anthropology; she was always eager to discuss different cultures and the legends surrounding them.

As for boys… they were just that. Boys. When the Kurosaki twins first started to mature physically, it drew a lot of attention from their peers, to be sure. Their father insisted Yuzu's figure closely paralleled their mother Masaki, for which Karin had kicked him in the nuts hard enough to change his vocal range for three days. He wisely chose not to comment on her maturation afterwards. But since they were both now 18, Karin reflected she and her sister had reached the limits of puberty. Yuzu had a good three inches on her now, but she could boast a significant advantage when it came to bust size. And she had a more athletic physique. Still, the younger Kurosaki sister could lay claim to having been approached by (and rejected) more potential suitors than her. That was probably due to the light curly hair, which her sibling had grown out to past shoulder length.

Even as she thought this, Karin felt a hand ruffle her lank mop. "Quit that!" She smacked it away, swiveling around to glare.

"Just taking my licks!" Kon laughed with that dopey grin on his face. "Your sister chased me out when I sampled the chawanmushi pudding. Whatcha up to?"

"Nothing," she muttered, returning to her online pursuits. At the same time, Karin was glad she had decided to wear shorts today. They showed off her legs to best advantage. For further effect, she began kicking her heels lazily back and forth in slow, hypnotic fashion.

"Mm-hmm. Because that's what girls like to do in their free time: nothing."

"How would you know?" she shot back, seeing an opportunity to fish for intel. "You're not even dating anyone right now."

A slight shuffling of his shoes was accompanied by a shaky laugh. "Well, you got me there, Karin."

She shoots, she scores!

Karin turned off her phone and flipped over. "Well, how about we help each other out then."

He looked confused, as usual. "How so?"

"I've got nothing to do, you've got no one to do it with." She hopped upright, tucking the phone in a pocket. "Take me out for a treat."

"Uhhhh…" Now his cat-like face had scrunched up on itself even further, pale blue eyes lost. "Did I just miss something here?"

"You've been away for much too long." Karin thrust a finger at his nose and left it hovering there like a sword point. "I'm young, I'm free, and I demand attention. So treat me to something with all that money you've won from endorsements and betting on your own races."

He stared at that menacing digit. "O-kaaay." Kon then pitched his voice a little higher. "Yuzu, you wanna go out for–"

"Busy!" she called back from the kitchen. "Everybody's coming over tonight, I need to cook!"

Karin sent a silent thanks to her sister. The teen then proceeded to hop around Kon to the front hall where she bent to tie on some shoes, grabbed her keys and coat and headed for the door. "Move it or lose it, Kon."

"Alright, I'm coming! Sheesh!" There was a distraught look plastered on his face when he came running up. See how long that lasts. Karin remembered something then, and hurried back to a dresser stand in the lobby. Opening a drawer, she removed a red-and-blue glove and hurriedly stuffed it in her jacket pocket.

Better safe than sorry…

"We'll be back in time for dinner!" she called out before stepping into the fresh, sunny day. Perfect for running, racing, soccer, whatever you wanted. The sky's the limit.

They walked for a while, not saying much. A comment about changes in the neighborhood, letting some preschool age kids go running by them laughing; it was good to be out.

"So what does Aunt Karin feel like doing, then?"

She ran a hand through her hair with a groan. "Don't start! Shinobu was just a feint. He lulled us into a false sense of security, made the family think little kids were easy to manage. Then his sister Hiruko came along, and suddenly we're all running ragged trying to keep up with her! She has limitless energy! I never changed a single diaper with either of them, and I am not ashamed to admit it."

"So you're on 'Terror Tot' duty whenever they visit, I take it," he chuckled good-naturedly.

"You'd know if you were around more than once in a blue moon."

That was a mistake. She could see right away as Kon's gaiety vanished like it had never existed. He looked unbelievably ashamed.

"I'm giving them space," the mod soul mumbled. "Can't be easy for Ichigo and Rukia raising a family; certainly wouldn't help having me hanging around like a… third wheel or something. They deserve to be happy. All of them."

He's still hung up on Rukia. After so many years… what was it with this guy?

"I didn't mean to bring you down," she quickly sought to explain. "You know we're always glad to see you, Kon. Especially me."

He perked up a trifle, managing a wan smile. "Thanks, little sister."

Karin decided to call it even for that and proceeded on her way, striding down the street with a frustrated determination.

"Where are we going?" he asked after a while.

"There's a café that opened up a few blocks from here," she informed him without looking back. "I've been meaning to hit it up, but didn't have anyone to go with."

"Well, happy to offer my company and my fortune, then."

"You are definitely paying." And not just because I forgot my wallet, she added silently.

Fortunately their destination proved to be only a few minutes' walk away by then. Kon could have made it here and back home in under a second, probably. The Cacao Café was a small shop on the far edge of the business district, smack in-between the residential and corporate clientele. A prime location, and one that had paid off well, by the look of it. There were several couples and lone warriors sitting under the awnings outside enjoying their fare or typing away on laptops. A wrought-iron fence encircled the patio dining area, and flowers sprouted in abundance. Specials of the day were written on a blackboard outside, along with pithy daily sayings to charm the guests. Today's was 'A sweet tooth is a sweet truth.' Brilliant.

They took a seat outside in a corner table, where a waitress in a frilly outfit brought them menus. Karin was feeling nervous, and the kitschy locale wasn't helping. Why did I suggest this place when I've never even been here? It's for middle school kids and underclassmen. I don't even know what to order! How is this supposed to work?

Say something before he does! Quick!

"I'm thinking about studying abroad!" she blurted out.

To her embarrassment, he gave her a disbelieving look and said, "Why?"

Karin traced a finger over the blunt spikes on the fence. "So that I can… y'know, see the world. Isn't that what you did while you were away?"

"Yeah, but I had a few other things to keep me occupied while trying to get my life in order." Kon glanced around. The other customers were sufficiently far away to limit the possibility of eavesdropping. Nonetheless he scooted his chair around until he was closer to Karin to lean in. Her initial exultation at pulling this off without even trying quickly turned to dismay, as Karin realized being so near to him only left her feeling even more like a clumsy naïve doofus.

Her guardian picked up the conversation without picking up on anything else. "Aren't you worried about missing out on your family? I know with modern appliances you can keep in touch with people a world away through video chat and stuff, but that's no substitute for real human contact, believe me. Kujaku and Hiruko…"

"Shinobu," she corrected him. "He's Shinobu in public. Or Jaku, as a nickname."

"Jaku, then. The kids want to see their aunts. And you'll kick yourself in the future if you go globetrotting and miss out on those little tikes when they're at their cutest!" He gave her a knowing look before starting to peruse the menu. "I know I'm sorry to have sat out a big part of your life."

"Not like you missed much." She didn't want him sinking into a funk again. "High school was pretty regular compared to what we went through in middle school. Well, I mean, there was that whole mess with Mayor Ochi's new 'Heads Will Roll' educational policy, but…"

"What?!" Kon gave her a look of utter disbelief.

"Oh, you didn't hear about that? Ichigo's old teacher, Misato Ochi, she got appointed vice-governor of the province about a year ago. See, she somehow arranged for it to be legal for teachers to publicly execute problem students in schools. Nobody knew how, but by the time the national news picked up on it…"

His mouth was so wide she could count his teeth. It was pretty funny, actually.

"…it was a huge thing. The teacher's unions were all behind it, the parents were up in arms, and nobody was listening to the students. I don't remember any actual incidents, but to make a long story short, they couldn't make her step down because of tenure apparently, so instead the governor agreed to give Mayor Ochi the position of vice-governor. Which means if he resigns or dies, then she'll be in charge. She agreed, and the law was rescinded. For now."

A quick shake of his head seemed to snap Kon out of his trance. "That's…" He blew out his breath and wiped a hand over his perspiring forehead. "Okay, anybody else, I'd say you were pulling my leg, but that woman… there's something about her. God help us if she dies and becomes a Hollow, she'd probably be vasto lorde right off the bat."

"Yeah, Ichi-nii said something similar. Apparently Dr. Ishida is keeping an eye on the governor to make sure he doesn't have any 'accidental' run-ins with Hollows. Y'know, like they find his body in the woods and assume wild dogs got him or something?"

Karin grinned when he appeared queasy. Maybe this whole 'chatting' thing isn't as tricky as I thought? Mizuho-senpai said he was very easy to talk to once you got the ball rolling. And she had never had any problems talking with Kon before.

The waitress returned soon after, and they gave their orders. Karin chose a concoction floating in hot fudge, whipped cream, and a crumble cake base, while Kon opted for a large mint frappe. He even agreed to share if her own selection proved less than stellar. To pass the time, they both ordered cappuccinos.

Karin glanced furtively around when their drinks came. Do people assume we're on a date? I didn't really have time to change my clothes, and he certainly didn't expect to be going out with me when he arrived. They probably just see a guy and a girl talking and assume we're friends. Nothing more. So if I want to change that opinion, I need to shift the topic to something more… mature.

"So have you heard anything about the wedding?"

He looked up from stirring cream into his cup. "I'm surprised you know about that."

"Why wouldn't I?" Karin frowned.

"Well, it's…" He hesitated. "Hang on. Who are you talking about?"

"Ishida and Ohgawa. Who are you?"

"Same." Kon couldn't lie to save his life, so she knew something was up. But he started talking right away, which meant any grilling would have to wait. "Yeah, that's right. His clothing business made a big deal about displaying the wedding dress. He has the exclusive rights for 'Wanderer in Shadows' merch. But he takes commissions for other stuff.

"Anyway, yeah, they made it official. Once the anime wraps up, they're getting married. It's going to be a huge celebration, and they're making it a public event. For the fans, or whatever. I'm sure we'll all be invited when the time comes."

By that point he'd stirred so much cream in his coffee it qualified as yogurt. Karin had brought him here with a certain intent, but now her natural feminine curiosity was raised, and she wasn't about to back down. "Kon?"

His head jerked up, pale blue eyes huge and quivering. "Yeah?"

"Who else is getting married?"

For a few seconds it appeared as though he was deeply considering running for the hills as a last resort. But at last he slumped in his seat with a crestfallen air and admitted, "My big sis, Kukaku. And Katsurou Arashi. They're finally getting hitched."

"Oh." She had to think back a bit for that one. Karin had met Kon's adopted older sister back when Karakura was nearly destroyed in a war between Hollows and shinigami. A nice lady, and hard to forget. The man Katsurou was the same one who nearly married Rukia, until her brother and Kon both called him out over it and Kon wound up the winner. Since then he had been involved with Rukia purely in a business sense, but he switched his sights to Kukaku shortly after. Kon didn't talk about it much over the years, so she assumed there wasn't much to tell. But apparently that was no longer the case.

"Why the secrecy?" she asked. "Are they eloping or something?"

"No." He actually seemed glad to get this off his chest. "But it's a huge to-do. Big Sis wasn't certain about whether his intentions were honorable at first. She's gotten used to looking down on the nobility, and them on her, so she thought he might be working an angle. Katsurou and I still keep in touch. I never tried to influence her, though. That wouldn't have ended well for me."

Here Kon rubbed his head absently, as though nursing an old injury. "But he finally won her over. And I'm glad for it. I think they'll make a good match. His clan's all behind it. They'd have to be, or I think he might execute them. Still, this is a big deal for the Seireitei. Kinda like… healing old wounds. Looking to the future. That sort of thing."

"Yeah," she agreed quickly, sensing an opening. "You shouldn't let how you've always seen someone… I mean, if they've changed, and you didn't notice, but they do…" For some reason the clear, logical argument that sprung up in her brain refused to make it past her lips. Karin rallied to give it another shot nonetheless. "If they're still thinking of you how you used to be, but you're not that way anymore, and you want them to stop treating you like you always were when you were together, even if you were happy the way you…"

Either he was stupid or she was, because Kon just stared at her like she had switched to Mandarin sometime in the last ten seconds. Right then, however, their waitress returned and settled their orders in front of them. "Thank you very much!" she offered with a bow, and headed back indoors.

Karin gave up and started eating. Her companion apparently decided against inquiring any further and did the same. Her selection proved to be pretty tasty, so there was no need to trade with him. Or maybe I should? Isn't that something from those clunky romance shows Yuzu watches? Sharing a treat, and one of you gets ice cream on your cheek, and they wipe it off, or lick it…

"You two make a cute couple."

Kon sputtered so hard he lost half his frappe on the table. Realizing they were the target of that comment, Karin swung around in challenge. "We're not a–!"

The automatic denial was halfway out her mouth before she even had time to think. Realization of this made her flush with equal parts humiliation and disappointment with herself. In response, the source of this inner turmoil laughed and hopped over the railing to join them.

"What's up, kids." Tatsuki Arisawa greeted them with a triumphant grin.

"Hey!" Kon quickly scooted over to make room for her between them. "Tatsuki-san, I didn't know you'd be in town."

"My schedule's pretty packed, sure." The lean fighter snagged a chair and lifted it one-handed over their heads to plop down at the table. "But I wanted to see how everyone was doing." She paused to look Kon up and down, and gave a snort. "Still dressing to impress, I see."

It was true. By contrast, the winner of the last three Long Beach International Karate Championships looked as though she had just come from a photo shoot. She had on a white miniskirt with huge gold looped chains for a belt. The leather jacket slung over one shoulder was Coke-bottle green and supple as sin. Her shoes were just regular trainers, but that long-sleeved black blouse was silk, with a V-neck collar down to her sternum, huge ruffles around the opening, and tapered sleeves whose cuffs hung down to offer peaks of both her wrists and muscular forearms. And those were designer shades atop her head, or I'm a shinigami.

"Some of us like to keep a low profile and stay out of the public eye," he retorted back, wiping mint ice-cream off his chin.

"No kidding," Tatsuki chuckled back. She was clearly enjoying his humiliation, and the murmurs and stares they were getting from other customers.

"Yes, so if you're done causing a scene–"

"You missed a spot."

Tatsuki then leaned over and, completely unasked for, licked a green line off Kon's neck.

Karin felt her stomach lurch.

Next thing she knew the teen was on her feet, about to scream, 'Hands off him!' But then she realized how this must look: a teenage girl wearing off-the-rack clothes with a cheap haircut standing next to this mature fitness goddess in tailor-made attire that would turn any man's head. And Tatsuki's a friend; what the hell am I thinking?!

The whole situation from start to finish struck her as absolutely nuts, and without a word Karin spun about and stalked out of the restaurant.

"Karin!" Kon called after her. "Hold on, I still need to pay!"

"You two catch up," she responded over her shoulder. "I'm going to help Yuzu. See you at dinner."

With that she jammed her hands in her pockets and commenced a moody solo trek home, where no one could ogle her or comment on this whole shameful debacle.

Distraught, Kon looked about to plunk down some cash and take off after her, but a firm hand on his wrist prevented any such actions. "Where do you think you're going?" Arisawa asked softly, her calm tone belied by hooded eyes and mean smirk. "We've been trying to get in touch with you for a while now."

"I was busy," he retorted, tensing at her apparent hostility. "As you could clearly see."

"Be glad I came when I did. That girl was eyeing you like a T-bone steak she was about to sink her teeth into."

Kon's normally affable gaze turned momentarily chilly. "That's not funny."

"I wasn't making a joke," she retorted, voice dropping an octave and eyes narrowing in implicit threat. "If you lay a finger on her, or vice-versa…"

"I think you're letting your 'true colors' show a bit too much, Aka-Oni."

The aptly titled 'Red Demon' of the martial arts world regarded him in silence for a bit longer, then grinned. "Aww, you're so cute when you play the hero, Kon!" And she patted him high on the thigh, adding a slow caress that made her lover jump. Several other patrons turned away in cultural embarrassment, while a few surreptitiously sought to snap pictures of what might be two famous people seen together in public. "And don't worry. I've got 'em all under control. But the boss still wants a word. So you better hop to it if you're going to be back in time for dinner."

He fidgeted, but ultimately peeled some bills off a stack in his wallet and plunked them down on the table. She let him stand without resistance then, and Kon threw her a sardonic look. "Let's hit the gym later. You seem like you need to work out some aggression."

"Happy to kick your ass," the martial artist sang.

He took off at an easy lope down the street, switching to turbo mode once he rounded a corner. She felt Kon's soul diminish into the distance. There was little chance she wouldn't see him again that day. They didn't want to call any more attention to themselves. The business in South America a few years back had never yielded the intense scrutiny she expected, so maybe their cover hadn't been blown. Noboru was a nice kid, but he wasn't a genius. The secret she and Kon shared remained intact. Well, one of them, at any rate.

Perhaps it was out of immature spite that Tatsuki Arisawa chose to finish off the sweet repast Karin had left behind. She always accepted a challenge, but this was one girl whose teeth she couldn't kick in, nor did she want to. There was no pride in beating up on a poor high school kid with a crush.

Absently she picked up the long spoon Kon left and bent it into a pretzel between the fingers of one hand.

At least, for now.

Right then her phone rang. She pressed a button and held it to her ear. "Hello?"

"Tatsuki-chan! It's me, Misato-sensei! Listen, would you be able to spare a Hollow or two, say, Monday around 8 PM?"

"No." And she hung up.

---

An itch between his shoulder blades was the first sign something was up.

Ichigo Kurosaki stood against the wall watching his kendo students go through their forms. He liked what he saw; strong grasp of the fundamentals in most cases, while the more talented students were developing their own styles, concentrating intently. There were no half-hearted shouts at the Zoematsu Dojo. They had a promising crop this year.

To say he envied them would not be a lie, though the admission shamed him still.

That sense of restlessness made him more aware of what his body was trying to tell him. He caught the eye of another instructor and indicated she could take over. With that Ichigo snagged his shinai and stepped out of the dojo into a brisk sunlit day. He strolled to a small outdoor training yard they used when the gym became too stiflingly hot during the summer. There he began to practice his swing, falling into an easy rhythm that years of repetition had built up, allowing him to concentrate more on other matters.

Since learning kidō from Nanao, his admittedly dull spiritual senses had experienced a marked progression. He was now not quite so hopeless when it came to singling out spectral sources, though he lacked the refined pinpoint accuracy both she and his father boasted. Still, even now he could tell a large source of powerful energy was approaching him. Ichigo quickly made sure he had a gikongan dispenser and his cellphone handy. He then waited patiently for whatever it might be to draw closer.

"Kurosaki Ichigo."

He glanced up, still performing his swings, and was surprised to find none other than Tōshirō Hitsugaya floating above the building. "Captain Hitsugaya!" he exclaimed. "What brings you by?"

There was no one outside to watch, but he still kept up the kendo, in case one of his students should happen to glance out a window. He was far enough away that they shouldn't be able to pick out his words.

"I came to see you," the snowy-haired savant descended until he touched down to earth, looking up at the tall twenty-something now. "It's good to find you well, Kurosaki-san."

The welcoming words didn't match his severe frown. There was always a sense of challenge in the youngest captain's whole posture, as though he was long-used to having to prove himself to anyone who happened to cast aspersions on his rank. Or who just happened to be taller.

"Same here." Though not exactly fast friends, he and Tōshirō fought against the vasto lorde Ulquiorra Schiffer during the Autumn War, and the kid had protected Rukia and several of his classmates during that debacle in the caves of Hueco Mundo. Not to mention fighting the Wild Hunt at Kujaku's birth. For this he felt closer to him than most of the other captains of Soul Society. Plus when it came to being judged based solely on your youth, hair color and general appearance, he was a kindred spirit. They had that much in common.

"If this is a bad time, I can come back later," Hitsugaya suggested with grave courtesy.

"No, it's cool. I can chat." Still swinging his shinai, he flicked a smile at the youthful warrior. "Unless we're attacked by some super-powerful demonic soul-sucker, of course."

A small grin made those emerald eyes a shade less frosty. "You do have that tendency," he agreed. Then the boy captain lapsed back into a professional demeanor. "But no, I'm here because I wanted to discuss the prospect of us training together."

"Really?" Ichigo blinked sweat from his eyes. Hadn't seen that coming. "Wait, I thought I remembered Noboru complaining about you already training under Byakuya. He seemed a little jealous, from what I could tell."

"It's not the same thing." The haunted look that fell over him then let Ichigo know not to broach that topic again. "Actually, my… tutelage… under Captain Kuchiki hasn't yielded the results I hoped for. At least, not in any meaningful way. I've got a better understanding of the concepts concerning shinigami and our… fundamental purpose… inner peace and… focus, that sort of thing, but…"

Hitsugaya seemed restless and dodgy. In fact, this type of clear insecurity made him look his apparent age more than anything else. Uncertainty, confusion, an inability to express yourself clearly; all typical aspects of adolescence. Ichigo had to resist the urge to playfully ruffle his hair like he did his kid sisters back when they were going through this type of thing.

You would lose a hand.

Thanks, Old Man Zangetsu, think I'm crippled enough for one life.

I would not be so quick to castigate myself were I you.

Whatever. Say, come to think of it…

Another salient point had leapt out that served to hearten him. "So what you're saying is, Byakuya can't cut the mustard as a tutor, and you'd like to go a few rounds with me?"

Tōshirō looked up and squared his jaw. "If you can spare the time. I know you have a family to look after. There's no hurry."

"No, no, I'm good. Now's good. Actually, this is perfect for me. I haven't had much of a chance to swing the ol' soul chopper around these past few years. Not many Hollows in my neck of the woods, you know? I could seriously use the exercise."

Nice to find something the Almighty Lord-Commander Kuchiki wasn't perfect at.

Are you going to inform Nanao?

She's my sensei, not my mother. She doesn't have to know everything.

All the same, you should have a second. If you insist on viewing this in terms of a match, that would be advisable.

Fine, I'll give her a call and ask her to meet me at the training center. Happy?

No answer came back. Feeling elated at the prospect of testing his mettle, the young parent called Nanao to inform her of this occurrence, then went inside to make excuses to his boss Azuma about ducking out early. She was more than willing to let him leave an hour ahead of time, considering his family state. The owner of the Zoematsu Dojo had been unfailingly considerate of Ichigo ever since his career in the sport was forcibly ended.

It had made the circuit rounds: 'Promising Kendo Candidate Crippled in Practice Match'. Few news outlets who picked up on the story commented on the fact that the person responsible for his disabling injury had disappeared off the face of the earth. Officials in the sporting world lamented the loss of a potential star, and those he had squared off against in the past sent their condolences, but their words rang hollow. An honorary rank of 5th-dan was bestowed on him, despite the fact that he had not reached the required 10-year goalpost. Ichigo Kurosaki would never attain the level of 8th-dan in the sport. A bitter realization, to be a has-been who never-would-be at his age. And he found himself faced with the sudden loss of a livelihood that could serve to support his family.

Ichigo had never deluded himself into thinking he could rise to the top of the competitive world, like Tatsuki and Kon had in their arenas. But still, he had grown to love kendo over the years. Loved the sense of one-on-one combat, the excitement of watching a rousing match between two competitors he himself might have to challenge, and the satisfaction that came from helping other kendo enthusiasts hone their craft and win matches themselves. Teamwork, camaraderie, sharing the highs and lows; that was what made group sports such a joy. It was a small blessing he had rediscovered in high school after having long avoided such communal activities following his mother's death.

What was left served to bring him as much pain as pleasure.

He had no intention of living off Azuma's kindness forever. A man had his pride, and continuing to support a practically useless instructor who could barely get through a match himself could only bring financial hardship on the already precarious dojo. They deserved better than that. They deserved better than him.

Your friends and family will never desert you, no matter what.

That's not the issue. I have to contribute. It's part of our culture.

Regardless, you are among the living. Do not permit yourself to lose sight of your worth in favor of spiritual performance.

I appreciate the pep talk, but I'm doing fine. This is just to help out a friend.

A troubled silence was Zangetsu's only response.

He and Tōshirō didn't chat much on the way to the warehouse district where the Vaizard once made their headquarters. It would look awkward to anyone without spiritual sense, and even then, well…

It wasn't a long trip, only fifteen minutes, but already his knee was acting up so that he had to fight not to limp. Eventually they came at last to the boarded-up storage building. Ichigo felt his heart race with excitement. Why am I getting so worked up? Besides, this won't take much longer than an hour. Dinner's on, and Tōshirō's got business of his own to get back to, obviously.

Ichigo leveraged a board aside to gain entry, wincing slightly as his knee protested this strenuous activity, while Tōshirō just passed effortlessly through the wall. He had to remind himself this was not done to show him up. Kid probably doesn't even know about my injury.

They made their way to the underground training center, where Nanao Ise was already waiting for them. She looked up from where she sat reading a book on what looked to be a small settee. The design of this semi-spiritual abode now looked like the inside of a great hollow pyramid, with sloping black walls and floors that shone like polished obsidian. Blue torches hanging in midair gave the place a surreal, haunting aspect, as though they really were standing within some ancient Egyptian pharoah's final resting place. Other than that, there was nothing to be seen.

"Thanks for coming, Sensei," he greeted her with a toothy grin.

"I am always happy to observe your progress, Ichigo-san." She flipped closed her book and rose to her feet. "Welcome, Captain Hitsugaya."

"Hi."

For some reason the kid had ducked his head and was looking anywhere but at Nanao. Ichigo glanced down at his tiny sparring partner in puzzlement. That's weird. Never knew he was so bashful around women. His old lieutenant was, like, the definition of hot homewrecker mistress. Tōshirō's sudden insecurity seemed odd.

Oh, well, no big deal. They can work out their differences while we work up a sweat!

---

If she jumps me in front of him, my career is ruined!

I see we are still traumatized over that evening… which you cannot even remember.

I remember enough! There was lots of skin, maybe some belly-dancing… I think they made me play a slave-boy!

You kept the cat-ears.

Only to use as evidence in case…! Well, never mind. Back to our real reason for being here.

Ichigo Kurosaki had already abandoned his physical body and now stood with Zangetsu unsheathed, ready to proceed. He and Nanao conferred together for a time, perhaps discussing the rules she no doubt had prepared for just such an occasion. Then that fiery hot female slipped over to stand in front of the captain. She gazed down at him with a severe, unreadable expression, those deep blue eyes pinning him to the floor like a bug.

"Captain," she stated crisply, causing him to give a shame-faced start. "I see you accepted a limiter seal before traveling to the human realm, as is customary. However, for this proceeding, I think it wisest to remove such a restriction. Kurosaki Ichigo possesses great power even for a captain-class. We should observe how an unfettered match between you plays out before considering such a handicap. Do you consent to this?"

Oh, NOW you ask for my consent, huh?!

Out loud he said, "Yes, that sounds reasonable."

"Good. I will now remove the seal." Her voice was cool and business-like as ever. For his part, Tōshirō stood ramrod-straight as Nanano knelt before him. "Please open your coat slightly, Captain."

"O… Okay."

Nervously the kid hooked a thumb in the collar of his white haori and black shinigami war suit to tug it down a bit, displaying the smallest amount possible of smooth pale skin. The sexy librarian bent closer. She inspected the glowing daffodil emblem revealed there. He could see it reflected in her glasses. In fact, they were so close he could swear he heard her heartbeat. Or was that his own?

Nanao murmured an incantation as she placed warm fingertips against his skin, and he couldn't suppress a shiver. Her magic flowed into him. Hitsugaya felt heady, certain that his cheeks were burning red. Those lilac-colored eyes flickered to meet his own sea-green ones.

"Fight for my amusement, slave-boy."

He jerked slightly, uncertain if that whispered comment was real or in his imagination. Then Nanao stood up and stepped back. His full power rushed into him, a thrilling force almost sexual in nature, come to think of it. Hitsugaya had never been more grateful to be wearing pants with a lot of room in them.

"We shall conduct this as an official duel between two captains," their designated referee called as she stepped between them, looking from one to another. "You will engage in combat for ten minutes this first round. The chamber we are in is adjacent to the mortal plane, so there will be no risk of damaging the environment. You may fight unrestrained. Kidō spells are permitted, but bankai cannot be used until the ten minutes are up. Are we clear on this?"

Tōshirō felt the anticipation that came from facing a dangerous opponent. The old Tenth Division had been a disciplinary unit; unlike other shinigami, who focused on killing Hollows, they received additional special training to battle against rogue death gods themselves. Which only made his initial loss to Aizen many years ago so galling. And Momo's treacherous incapacitation of him during the Autumn War. And the fight with Gin…

No, forget all that. Focus on the here and now. The leader of Leopard Squad gripped the handle of Hyōrinmaru, loosening it slightly in its sheathe. He already had a fair idea of how to begin this fight, considering his opponent. Ichigo stood across from him in traditional shinigami apparel, scorning the mystic body armor that was now de rigueur for all death gods. Zangetsu was already in shikai, as was his wont. The oversized zanpakutō rested on his shoulder, binding bandages sliding down to the floor. It might be considered unfair, but…

Nanao's arm swept down. "Begin!"

"Hado #69!" Tōshirō called out quickly. "Silver To–!"

"–ongue Striking Asp!"

The final syllables of the spell caught in the captain's mouth as a glowing gray band of energy encircled his throat, imprisoning any further magic from exiting. There was no time to consider this unexpected development, as a giant kitchen knife swung at his face. Hitsugaya jerked his head to one side, feeling that gargantuan weapon ruffle his hair as it passed over him. At the same time he spun on one heel, drawing his weapon in one smooth stroke and lashing out lightning quick, aiming for his opponent's legs, a disabling cut.

Instead he felt a jarring shock run up his arms as Hyōrinmaru rebounded off a glowing blue wall. Was that… Seki?! When did he cast…?! Don't tell me…

"Sleeping kidō," Ichigo grinned gleefully, and elbowed him in the face.

Hitsugaya's head snapped back. He staggered a few paces off, half-dizzy with pain. It felt like a steel club had connected with his skull. This guy is too damn strong! And since when does Ichigo Kurosaki use kidō, much less advanced techniques like sleeping…?!

Since Nanao Ise became his kidō instructor. Now FIGHT!

"How's that?"

Ichigo Kurosaki stood in a relaxed pose as before, sword on shoulder and hand on his hip wearing a satisfied smirk. "Nanao told me what to expect from you, so I planned ahead," he called out. "She said the Tenth prefers quick disabling moves. So, how was it?" That smile turned nasty in a second. "Did it remind you of getting your ass kicked by Aizen?"

"You would know," Hitsugaya shot back.

The substitute shinigami just chuckled and shook his head. "Yeah. I would."

Hitsugaya rolled his jaw from side to side, feeling the ache of potential fracture. The spell muting his magic was not perfectly cast, but the sheer power behind it more than made up for that. He'd never be able to break it, at least not without going bankai. And that was forbidden. For the time being, he would have to rely on his other skills.

The captain considered his opponent anew in this time allowed him. He had expected Ichigo Kurosaki to be a powerful fighter, on par with the Kenpachi. What he hadn't anticipated was this level of precision, much less psychological warfare. That crack about Aizen had indeed shaken him. For just a moment he could almost feel Kyoka Suigetsu slicing through his back once again. The difference in their strength, being at a disadvantage, the willingness to strike him where it hurt the most…

This is what I need.

Hitsugaya Tōshirō's face cleared, and he stood erect to regard his enemy calmly, Hyōrinmaru held before him in both hands. In a flash his zanpakutō entered its shikai, without need for incantation as only captain-class fighters could boast. The temperature inside the tomb plummeted. A wall of ice formed in front of him, and a gleaming harvest moon sickle now swung from the chain attached to Hyōrinmaru's hilt.

"Ready to go again?" Ichigo drawled casually through the frosty barrier. Like he had all day, and didn't really care.

"Come on, then," Tōshirō replied.

A heartbeat later the human was gone, and the young shinigami spun around just in time to block another overwhelming stroke. Their blades clanged roughly against each other. Hitsugaya felt himself knocked back from the sheer force behind the blow, and he had barely recovered his footing before another came shearing towards him from the other side. This too he managed to intercept, but doing so blew him off his feet to go flying through the air. Dammit, this guy's a colossus! It's all I can do to deflect his attacks, there's no way I can match it blow for blow! Teeth gritted, he sought to keep track of his unnervingly fast opponent, who flash-stepped not behind, or even to the side, but below, striking at his legs.

In response Tōshirō tugged on Hyōrinmaru's chain with his foot, sending the scythe snapping at Ichigo's face for a moment fast enough to make him automatically block. By then Hitsugaya had finally prepared a suitable response. He noticed Nanao Ise and gigai Ichigo watching from below, protected in a shimmering shell of Falling Mountain Crystal and what looked like several other enchantment layers beneath it. They should be safe.

"Tensō Jurin!" he shouted.

The effect was instantaneous. Ice began to form everywhere; on the floor, hanging like stalagmites from the tilted ceiling, and even in thin layers all over Ichigo's body. The human grimaced and shook himself, sending transparent sheets sloughing off in layers. More built up, though, as Hyōrinmaru's power established dominion over the very elements that existed in this room.

"Pretty cheap move!" the human accused, trembling already.

"You haven't seen anything yet," he shot back, and whipped his zanpakutō over one shoulder before giving a mighty swing forward. There then exploded from the frosty blade a serpentine dragon made of ice which dove towards Ichigo with an almost audible screech.

In response, the substitute shinigami raised his weapon overhead and responded in kind. "Getsuga Tenshō!"

The blast of raw spiritual energy that followed blew through Hyōrinmaru's attack like it was a snow cone. Tōshirō had no illusions of facing such an assault head-on, and instead flew towards the ceiling to avoid it. The awesome blast connected with the side of the pyramid, where it dissipated with a splash of spirit particles. Hitsugaya took note. What was this place made of, anyway? Some kind of deathstone? He certainly didn't feel any sort of drain on his powers. Can I use that to my advantage?

You have eight minutes before my bankai becomes an option.

If at all possible, I'd like to avoid us both going that far on this first occasion.

Then one of you must claim victory before then.

Any ideas? Because I never expected him to be half this devious, to say nothing of strong.

He has clearly been training with the intent of crossing swords against Aizen one day. Ichigo wants there to be no disadvantages against him in that future battle. And he has far surpassed the strength we saw on display during our battle with Ulquiorra. Admirable.

And I haven't, I suppose?

Perhaps, like Aizen, you can find a way to turn that power to your advantage. It seems to take him some time to collect himself after major attacks like that last one. Or you can use the terrain to your advantage.

"Don't space out!"

Another Getsuga Tenshō came roaring his way. He dodged again and was about to commence a counterattack, only for a second smaller flash to alert him to bring up his blade. Just in time, as a ragged beam slammed against the sharpened edge, screeching and crackling, leaving his fingers numb. Was that a casting of Byakurai?! He suckered me, guessed which way I would dodge and threw in the kidō!

Even as he realized this, Ichigo appeared before him, that tremendous war blade howling down in a killing stroke. Hyōrinmaru nearly slipped from his throbbing fingers, and in desperation Hitsugaya grabbed the chain along its length and snapped it taut between them.

Zangetsu smashed through the links, Hyōrinmaru's shikai snapped, and the black blade slammed into Hitsugaya's shoulder, sending him cartwheeling end over end into the floor with a resounding crash and an explosion of ice. Flurries and white clouds covered the snowy floor.

"Hitsugaya-taichou!" Nanao cried. "Are you alright?!"

She shot an accusing look at Ichigo, who waved off her concerns. "Relax, Sensei, I'm not crazy here," he called down. "I hit him with the back of the sword. Went all 'Himura the Battousai' on 'im." Then he called, "Yo, Snowflake! Ready to throw in the towel?" His eyes roamed over the battlefield, searching through drifts of ice and snow.

In response, he heard a tearing sound. Moments later Tōshirō Hitsugaya stood up. He had removed his white haori and torn half into strips which he then wound and looped like a large sling in one hand. What was left he shrugged back into one-armed, the symbol of Leopard Division still clear on its back.

"Let's try that again, you bastard," the captain spoke quietly. "Give me your best shot!"

And he launched himself into the air, heading straight for Ichigo.

"I like it!" Kurosaki cried, and lifted his godly weapon on high once more. "Getsuga Tenshō!"

A bright arc of moonlit destruction blazed forth to engulf the captain. To his surprise, Tōshirō made no move to avoid it. Instead he spread his torn coat in front of him like a shield and drove forward, meeting the blast head on.

Moonlit Fang warped, and then went careening by him with no more resistance than a feather.

Ichigo had only a moment to process this impossible sight before the boy was upon him. He swung the long loop of fabric, letting go of one end as he did, seeking to snag and entangle Zangetsu in its folds. Ichigo slashed the cloth contemptuously, but to his disbelief, it would not cut! Instead the ragged strip wound around the giant blade. The heck…?!

There was no time to question, as Hyōrinmaru licked out. He managed to parry the gleaming ice sword, knocking it aside with the flat of his blade. Doing so caused Hitsugaya to lose his balance and let go of his improvised whip. Lightning-fast Kurosaki lashed out with a kick to the midsection that sent him flying back. Even as the boy captain righted himself and leapt to attack again, Ichigo swung up his sword and brought it down with a bellow. "GETSUGA TENSHŌ!"

Expecting a titanic outpouring of energy, he instead found himself lurching clumsily forward under the impetus of his own overswing, as absolutely nothing happened.

Ichigo hung bent over in that awkward pose, and felt cold steel press against his throat.

"Yield."

His eyes traveled up to meet those of Tōshirō Hitsugaya, who stared back with a smirk even as he held the tip of Hyōrinmaru against his opponent's neck.

"What just happened?" the substitute shinigami asked in tones of amazement.

That snowy head nodded to one side. "Take a look at your sword."

He did so. At first all Ichigo could make out was the torn remnants of the captain's jacket. Then something leapt out at him. In addition to that snow-white fabric, there was something else; another color, almost identical, but not quite as pristine.

Then it hit him. "Zangetsu's bandages!"

"Yeah." Hitsugaya withdrew his weapon and slid it back into its sheathe, returning to a sealed form as he did. "I picked them up while you were arguing with Nanao. Your soul cutter is always unleashed in shikai, never sealed. But every shinigami at the Academy is taught that a zanpakutō comes with both a blade… and a scabbard." He indicated the hilt over his shoulder. "They act as a constraint. That's why it's always necessary to draw your weapon before performing first release. At first glance you don't seem to have one. But then I thought… maybe he does?"

He then reached down and tugged the torn bandage dangling off Zangetsu's wrapped haft. "And a zanpakutō's scabbard can serve to restrain or even block its power. I gambled on these doing the trick."

"Huh." Ichigo peeled off the wrapping and inspected his bared weapon thoughtfully. "Never knew about that." He threw a glance at Tōshirō and grinned. "You really are a prodigy, huh?"

"Record graduation time from the Academy, in case you didn't know."

"Cool. Only see, the thing is…" And here Ichigo's smile turned sinister. "…I never surrendered."

He then drew a deep breath and roared, "BANKAI!"

Black energy exploded out, driving Tōshirō back. "TENSA ZANGETSU!" When it cleared, Ichigo stood in his ragged floor-length overcoat holding the black katana that was his second release.

"BANKAI! DAIGUREN HYŌRINMARU!"

A similar outpouring of white spiritual power blossomed in the ancient tomb. Revealed at its heart was a boy with talons and claws of ice, the wings and tail of a dragon sprouting from his back. "That wasn't ten minutes!" Tōshirō snapped.

"Meh, you know how these extra-dimensional gigs screw up time, yeah?" Ichigo shrugged while tapping the back of his sword against one shoulder. "You go into one portal heading to Soul Society, come back, and its last Tuesday. Or so Kisuke tried to explain to me, I always figured he was just jabbering to hear himself speak. Never made much sense to me." He then pointed the ebon sword at his frosty foe. "Ready to get real?"

Hitsugaya smiled. "Always."

They were just preparing to do battle, when a sharp voice cried, "Enough!"

From the walls of the pyramid there shot several black cylinders which hummed as they formed a connection. A moment later, the ring of deathstone activated to drain all spiritual energy within the temple.

There then came identical thuds as both fighters hit the floor with violent force. They lay there groaning and cursing as Nanao Ise walked over, picking up both their fallen weapons and handing them to Ichigo's gigai, who accepted them obediently.

"When I lay down rules," the sorceress informed them severely from her elevated height, "I expect them to be obeyed. From now on you will spar with one another only under my supervision, and then with very severe limitations, until I determine you both mature enough not to cost one another's lives."

She went stalking off, taking their confiscated soul cutters with her. After a while the defensive measures switched off, and the two young men clambered to a sitting position where they gave each other identical rueful looks.

"You know I wouldn't actually hurt you, right?" Ichigo asked.

Tōshirō rubbed the bruise on his shoulder left by Zangetsu. "If that's what you call holding back, I don't regret not fighting you when you're serious. You've gotten stronger, Kurosaki-san."

He waved a genial hand. "Ah, that's no big deal. Just the power I used to have as a Vaizard got reintegrated as shinigami juice. My Inner Hollow was holding onto a whole ton of my potential strength. Now that it's gone I've got access to everything that was denied me before."

"Really?" The boy captain raised a skeptical eyebrow. "How did you manage that?"

Here the young man's face grew evasive. "Well… that's complicated. But if you want to see the reason…" And here he stood up, holding out his hand. "Come to my place. We're having dinner."

Hitsugaya accepted his help to rise with a small smile. "That sounds nice."

---

While their visit must have come as a surprise, nonetheless the servants responded with admirable alacrity. The palanquin was taken in hand, the men-at-arms as well, and the senior maid met them at the front door with grace and courtesy. "Welcome to our home, noble Lord and Lady. We are doubly honored by this visit." She genuflected, and two or three maids behind her did the same.

"You can skip the kowtowing, I'm not a Lady," Kukaku Shiba growled, removing her white traveling cloak as she did. An attentive footman appeared out of nowhere to take it, and irritably she handed it off to him. "A girl can hang up her own coat, you know."

"But to do so would be a discourtesy to the servants and the household they represent," Katsurou Arashi said mildly as he divested himself of his own travel wear. The smile he wore managed to be both affectionate and smug at the same time, a trick which infuriated Kukaku no end. "And there is enough ill will in the world, wouldn't you agree?"

"You've got an opinion about everything," she retorted. "And you're never afraid to share it, you know that?"

"What would be the point?" he remarked.

"Humility!" she snapped, flipping off her sandals in the vestibule. A manservant was already on hand to provide her with soft beautifully stitched slippers. With an embarrassed grimace she awkwardly permitted him to slip them on and went stomping by in a huff. "Let's just do this!"

The Tiger Lord smiled to himself as he followed suit, but only on the inside. Though the future no doubt held many surprises, one thing was certain: having Kukaku Shiba as a wife would certainly teach him humility.

"I've sent ahead to inform the master of your arrival," the majordomo informed him as he arrayed himself accordingly. "Permit this one to escort you to him."

Katsurou passed by her without speaking, and the well-trained staff understood this to be consent. They came upon Kukaku standing at an intersection with hand on hip, peering in frustration from one side to another. "This would be a lot easier if he was still a god-damn powerhouse," she grumbled at their approach.

"This way, good Lady," the old servant bowed. They followed her through the halls of a small yet extravagantly furnished manor. The paneled walls were bedecked with masterful paintings depicting charming young couples on mountainside picnics, garden parties with commingling guests of royal pedigree, and outdoor theater performances for both gods and emperors.

Included on many of them was poetry whose stanzas held… shall we say, more than one interpretation, lending a rather lewd aspect to certain scenes. That charming young man… was he reaching to pour his charming young lady a drink, or to place his hand in her charming young bodice? Were those guests drawn apart throughout the garden commingling, or coupling? And what was that oni onstage about to do with those lovely virgins he had captured? Perhaps best not to dwell on such matters too closely.

They entered the private quarters of the manse and stopped at one door in particular. Katsurou and Kukaku waited at a discrete distance, him poised and aloof, her slumped against the wall and lighting her pipe while glancing restlessly around.

The majordomo coughed loudly before calling out in a somewhat exaggerated voice, "KYORAKU-SAMA? You have VISITORS!"

"EEP!"

The door whipped open, and a tiny maid came tearing out with a pillow over her head, nearly bowling over Lord Arashi before vanishing down the hall. Kukaku watched her go with raised eyebrows, smoke curling lazily between her lips. Katsurou frowned and simply brushed by the servant.

"Lord Arashi! How, er… nice to see you!"

Kyoraku Shunsui, former captain of the Gotei 13, nobleman and living legend, scrambled hastily to his feet. He smoothed his hair back, adjusted his robe, patted down his trousers and bowed so outlandishly he risked pitching over. There was a joyous, somewhat nervous smile on his unshaved face as he came upright.

"Please forgive my state of dress! I was simply…" he hesitated for half a breath, eyes raking the room strewn with books and pillows, "…teaching one of the servants how to read! Yes, that's it! Nothing to sharpen the mind and whet the appetite for further learning like, ah…"

He quickly snatched up a book. Upon seeing the title, however, the handsome veteran's face paled, lips pressing together as though choking on a scream.

"Th… 'The Way of the Soul Cutter,' by B… Byakuya Kuchiki!" he gasped, every word a strangled torment bursting from his lips only under extreme duress. He proceeded to choke out the rest of the title. " A P… 'A Precise and Polite Acknowledgement of… Past Codices and… Personal Reflections on the Prospect of… Bare-handed Konso for… Able-bodied Aspirants'!"

The master of the manor spun about to hunch over with a heaving, retching noise. A vague whisper of, "Sweet HEAVEN, he's so damn BORING!" could faintly be heard. He came slowly back around, wiping his trembling hand on the back of his mouth and looking visibly shaken. Sweat dappled his brow, and he seemed to have aged several years. More streaks of gray were visible in his soft, curly hair than had been before.

"What can I do for you?" he inquired somewhat queasily.

"We must speak, Kyoraku-sama," Katsurou intoned in a soft voice. "The three of us."

He glanced over one shoulder, and Kukaku Shiba reluctantly shuffled forward, one arm shrugged out of her fine summer yukata and puffing on her pipe, a red gleam in her eyes.

Upon seeing her, Shunsui appeared to drop any pretense. He stood up straight, face growing calm, and said in a grave voice so unlike him, "Bring tea for our guests."

The servant left with a bow. Kyoraku indicated they should follow him into the hall, whereupon he then led the leaders of their clans to a nearby private audience chamber. He opened the door and stood aside for them to enter. Closing the pane, the oddly subdued hero shuffled over to sit cross-legged on the tatami mats. "My Lord, My Lady," he looked up at them, a sad, weary expression on his face, as though he knew what must come next. "I am at your service."

They stood side by side, examining him. Kukaku was chewing on her pipe, an indication that this long-overdue meeting was not quite the simple affair she had initially insisted upon. For his part, Katsurou remained close at hand, to offer support and, if necessary, intervene to prevent violence.

She forgave me when I divulged the story of her father's death. But it was only recently that I told her the full truth of the matter.

At last Kukaku stopped smoking. She opened her mouth, hesitated, and then finally said, "You drugged my brother?"

Shunsui met her eye without flinching. "Yes."

"And Miyako?" A new level of emotion made her voice harsh. "You drugged them both at a party so that they would sleep together."

"Yes."

There were tears in her eyes, whether from rage or grief. "And you did this because you knew he was secretly betrothed to Kiyone Kotetsu, and you wanted to destroy the engagement."

"Yes."

"To ruin our clan."

"Yes."

"And kill our father."

"Yes!"

This sudden venomous hatred was the first emotion Kyoraku Shunsui had shown since she began questioning him. It gave Kukaku pause. She looked to Katsurou, who gave a small shake of his head. He had never asked, not once, why Captain Kyoraku Shunsui of the Eighth Division had stooped to plot the murder of a fellow captain with him. They said nothing for a while; just stared at one another. In that time, a servant knocked on the door before entering with a teapot and three cups. She read the room and departed immediately after setting down her tray.

When they were alone again, Kukaku asked the only question left.

"Why?"

So Kyoraku took a deep breath, and told her.

---

Fireflies blinked lazily over the grounds of a gorgeously maintained manor.

In that fragrant nighttime setting, a servant knelt outside a screen door and spoke softly. "My Lady… I have brought your son."

"Send him in."

The door was opened, and the faithful maid smiled tearfully at her beautiful charge before nudging him forth. When he was inside, she shut the door behind him and fled.

The girl walked away from that room trembling with terror. Rumors and whispers had run the gamut of late. Their Lord was dead. He had taken his own life, or been dispatched in a hasty execution. The Kuchiki were coming to kill them all. They would be sold off like livestock, or cast into the world of the living to eke out their remaining existence as shades, cursed beings without purpose or rest.

The House of Takuiyoku was doomed. She hesitated in a hallway, uncertain what to do.

Then there came the sound of shouting from the main gate. Racing feet filled the corridors, accompanied by tearful begging and pleas for mercy. Figures in black robes came streaming over the rooftops.

I have to escape! They'll kill me! But the Lady… and the Young Master! I have to warn them first! She raced out into the gardens, taking a shortcut back to the royal chambers. Fireflies bobbed away as she rushed past. There! I see them!

The servant ran straight into someone. When she looked up, all she saw was a black robe, and the white one over that.

Before she could scream, a hand passed over her face, and she fell asleep.

Captain Kyoraku Shunsui cradled the unconscious child against him. She, at least, would not have to remember what came next. The girl was safe now, hidden in the unbreachable enchantment he used to cloak his presence from all eyes. His own gaze returned to the open patio door, past which he saw Lady Manami Takuiyoku in her private chambers, holding her babe Sosuke in what would be their final parting. The woman was drunk, that much he could tell. But for once, Shunsui himself remained completely sober.

I wish I could spare you this horror. But I can't.

"Thank you for the poem, Captain Kyoraku." The tiny bride-to-be reached out and took his big hand in her small ones. There was a tremulous smile on her face beneath the veil. "It was… a very amusing gift!"

"May it serve to help you on your wedding night," he murmured, and gave the blushing virgin beauty a gallant kiss on her fingers. Lord Kaito Takuiyoku just frowned and looked away, permitting this legendary figure to do as he wished even now. Being the favored disciple of Commander-General Yamamoto meant even the head of a Great House would not risk incurring his wrath without good cause. And this was a day of celebration, after all.

Not so today, Kyoraku reflected. From this point on, Manami's life would be ruined. Her own family would not accept her back after everything her husband and his kin stood accused of. She would die in disgrace. But Shunsui had already resolved not to let that happen. Though he could not disobey the commands of the King, this much he could accomplish. Lady Manami would be accepted into his own household and looked after for the rest of her life. She need not fear dying alone in a gutter of the Rukongai, even if that proved small comfort after everything this night would cost her.

Yamamoto had not asked him to participate in this night's slaughter. Kyoraku would have had no choice but to openly defy him, and that would have led to the loss of his precious pupil, one way or another.

Screams filled the night. Manami had drifted into a drunken stupor, but this roused her. She leapt up and stumbled to the door, dragging Sosuke with her. Kyoraku looked on, ashamed of his own cowardice. I should fight to stop this tragedy, die trying if I have to! They're killing children! Women and children and people who might never have even known what their lord was doing! And they're using shinigami to do it! We're not supposed to be like this! We're meant to protect the weak, not…!

The door opened. Yudai Shiba came in wearing his captain's cloak. They spoke briefly, then Manami turned and raced for the garden, heading straight to where Shunsui watched hidden in the shadows. His heart grew cold at the abject terror on her face.

Before she could make it outside, Shiba knocked her down. The noblewoman rose, but even as she did, Yudai's sword…

What is he…?!

"STOP!"

Too shocked to react in time, Kyoraku could only watch as Manami Takuiyoku was beheaded.

It was Jūshirō who had cried out against this injustice, but far too late. Both captains spoke angrily to one another, with Shiba arguing in defense of his crimes before striking off the child Sosuke's head and stalking out to continue his butcher's work.

Yudai had no idea how close he came to dying that night.

There was blood in Shunsui's mouth, the taste hot and intoxicating. Blood in his eyes, turning them red, so that everything before him became a scarlet tapestry of death. Bloodshed in his heart, as his hand reached for one of the swords at his waist. Kill them all, it seemed to whisper. Kill them all, kill them all, I'll KILL THEM ALL!

The girl asleep in his arms moaned in pain at the strength of Shunsui's spasming grip. That sound drew the captain back from a precipice of bloodthirsty rage that threatened to swamp his reason, tempting his wicked soul with blackest murderous hate.

Death will not wipe away your dishonor, Shunsui. Certainly not hers.

Katen Kyōkotsu's voice brought him back the remainder of the way. He gazed at that sleeping girl. An ordinary face, but alive. Still alive. Not if I leave her here to go on a bloodbath, though.

So Kyoraku slunk away from the site of his greatest failure. Even as he did, though, black thoughts still swirled across his mind. I sacrificed my pride already, permitting this night to continue without so much as an objection to save face. But that… what happened back there… it won't go unpunished. Yudai Shiba will not know a single night's rest from this day on. My disgrace pales next to his. I will find a way to turn everything he holds dear to ashes, leaving him in ruin. Only then… only then will I permit him to die, choking on his own blood.

And thus he began to lay his plans.

---

"I did it all to put your father in the ground where he belonged," Shunsui calmly reported after filling her in on the remaining details. "So now you know. What comes next?"

Neither of his guests responded. Still, the veteran courtier slyly took note of the way Kukaku was chewing on her pipe as though it was his liver, and couldn't resist a chuckle. "You must have already had some idea before you even stepped through my door. Speak your mind, Lady. I'm listening."

"We're getting married."

For a moment Kyoraku had the ridiculous notion she meant him with that statement, and there was a witty remark halfway to his lips before he caught himself. Now was not the time for jokes. His eyes darted between the two of them, and he cautiously replied, "I… wish you many happy years together."

"Save it," the Shiba scion spat, eyes narrowed with malice. "I understand why you did it. Our father committed a crime, and no one would punish him due to his rank. But because of what you did, we lost our mother. Father agreed to a divorce, but he wouldn't let her near us again, and she died of grief. That's on your head. And Miyako, and Kaien…"

Here she took a deep breath, the fiery aura of a powerful soul burning around her, making it feel like he was staring face-first into a blacksmith's blazing forge. Shunsui's mouth went dry from the force of that spirit. This must be what it felt like for other people facing off against me back in the day, he reflected.

"You abused the trust they put in you. You're a sick old man who poisoned our family because you were too cowardly and corrupt to fight for your own honor. They trusted you! Hell, they all loved you! And they… never would have gotten married, were it not for you."

This last part came as such a surprise he could only stare at her.

"Nobody knows what might have happened if Kaien had married the Kotetsu princess," she continued in a shaky voice, swallowing down her grief and regret. "Maybe they would have fallen in love eventually and made a long, happy life together. I can't say. But I do know that he and Miyako really loved one another! To the day they died…" She shook her head in an angry effort to dash away any tears. "That's your doing as well. As for me and Katsurou…"

She turned a thoughtful, uncertain look on the iron-haired man beside her. "I guess that's because of you too."

Her future husband bowed his head in acknowledgement. "I count myself fortunate."

"Yeah, yeah, write me a poem." He smirked, and the master engineer turned her attention back to Shunsui. "We can list off all your hits and misses over the centuries to tally up your overall score, but I'm not into that shit. I already told this numbskull," and here she jerked a thumb at Arashi. "What's done is done, and whatever grudges might have been held get buried now. Besides…"

Here she reached out one long leg and tapped the kneeling man twice in the chest. "I think you got your comeuppance already."

Phantom pain flowered in his saketsu and hakusui, along with an ache that wasn't entirely in his mind. His gaze drifted sadly to the wall where Katen Kyōkotsu, or what was left of her, rested in a stand. That loss… was one he had never been willing to bear. He would have rather died than lose his oldest, dearest friend. Unohana probably knew that, when she tore us apart. One more of my old misdeeds coming back to haunt me.

"What I'm saying is, you're invited to our wedding."

This certainly was a day for surprises. Taken aback, he turned to the two younger souls. "Come again?"

"We wish to start our new life together unencumbered by old dreads," Katsurou informed him in a more diplomatic manner. "Distasteful as our actions were, I cannot celebrate you for it, but neither will I disdain you for joining me in them. We should instead do our level best to assure the future dawns bright for all those under our protection. Whatever you might think of yourself now, I for one believe Kyoraku Shunsui still has something to contribute to the world."

"I see," he murmured, lost in a haze of unlooked-for compassion. Hard to believe such a thing could exist after what I did. But the inescapable fact is standing right in front of me. That girl has forgiven me when I could not do the same for her father. The next generation really did turn out better than our own, in spite of everything we did. Or perhaps because of it, at the same time. Who can say? Not me.

"I am honored, truly honored, to attend your wedding." Here he couldn't resist himself, and his face broke out in the lazy, time-tested grin of a rake. "Actually, if you're talking contributions, I have been known to jot off a little wedding ditty. A poem, to forever immortalize the bonds of love that bring two souls…"

"Not interested." Kukaku turned away, and Lord Arashi was just about to follow, when suddenly she halted, peering down at Shunsui with a slow-dawning smile that made him shiver. "Actually, there is something I'd like to ask for our wedding gift."

"Name it," he replied, total sincerity in every inch of his bearing.

"That book you showed us before, the one that Byakuya wrote?" And now her smile had turned positively demonic. "I want you to read it out loud at our wedding party. In front of all the guests, the whole way through. From start to finish."

Kyoraku felt his blood run cold. Not that! Anything but that! "Can't I just commit seppuku?" he whispered, ashen-faced.

"No. Make sure to warm up your voice beforehand. Bye for now." With a toss of her sable locks, she strode from the room.

For his part, Katsurou bent down and took a quick sip of tea. "Thank you for your hospitality, Kyoraku-sama," he said with strict professional courtesy, bowing ever so slightly. "Good day."

They left the lord of wine and poetry sitting on the floor, viewing a future that now stretched before him like a grey, windswept, boring plain.

So much for burying the hatchet, he thought, and sadly shouldering his burden, he went to start the first day of the rest of his life.

---

They stopped off at the Usagi Shoten to pick up a gigai for him. The rest of the family had already departed, so there was no one to ask after this unusual occurrence. Tōshirō came out of the room tugging on a sweater-vest, short-sleeved dress shirt and corduroy pants that once belonged to the golem Jinta. The only shoes were sandals, which took him back to how shinigami used to dress.

It was awkward walking through town, not the least because he hadn't worn a mortal form in ten years. That and the sandals were nowhere near as comfortable as his own. Perhaps Ichigo noticed, for he walked slowly, not putting his long legs to full advantage. But at last he and Ichigo reached the Kurosaki home.

"Hey, I'm –oof!"

Ichigo had just stepped into the house when a small object tackled him. Tōshirō got a better look when he came inside. Clinging to the human's leg was a small girl in a sapphire dress and bare feet. She hopped up and down, giddy with joy, only to halt upon spying the new arrival.

"Hiruko, this is a friend of ours. His name is Tōshirō Hitsugaya." Her father patted the girl's head and smiled at him. "My daughter, Hiruko Kurosaki."

Hitsugaya took note of this unassuming girl more than he would any other pre-schooler. She had inherited her mother's large eyes, which were so big he swore he could see himself reflected in them. The hair, on the other hand, came from Kurosaki, it being a tangled mess someone had wrestled into twin tails. The color was nowhere near as unusual as her father's red pelt, though, being more of a deep chestnut brown. Guess they split the difference on that.

"Hello, Hiruko-chan," he greeted her.

Still holding onto her father's leg, the kid stuck her tongue out at him and looked away.

"Give her time," Ichigo affirmed. "She'll get used to you."

But will I get used to her? Hitsugaya had never been overly fond of children, even when he was one. Still, when in the real world, treat their brats as they would.

They kicked off their shoes and followed the sound of animated conversation mixed with glasses, plates and cutlery clattering. Entering the dining room found the relatively tiny space packed. In addition to Ichigo's father Isshin (another comrade from the war), there was Konpaku Shiba, the mortal girl Tatsuki Arisawa, two teenagers whom he assumed must be Ichigo's sisters, and Rukia Kuchiki. The former lieutenant noticed his entry and broke away from setting the table with a glad smile. "Greetings, Hitsugaya-sama."

"I hope I'm not intruding." He shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling like a clown in this ridiculous getup.

By contrast Rukia shone in a white lace top with either small roses or strawberries sewn into the collar, and a half-black half-tan leather skirt fastened with gray buttons. Her hair was tucked up in a clasp at the nape. She wore a purple and green paisley neckerchief along with small silver earrings. To his mild relief, she remained as short as he was. Although it seemed motherhood had worked its magic in some respects, if the contents of her shirt were anything to judge by.

Thankfully before he could reflect too much on that observation and its implications, the lady came to take his hands. "You are always welcome," she insisted warmly. "And Yuzu never fails to make more food than is needed, in case guests drop by. Which is fortunate. We weren't expecting quite this many."

"Ah, young Tōshirō!" Isshin spread his arms wide and came striding over like he intended to envelop the captain in a hug. To his immense relief, that did not prove to be the case, as he simply clapped the small shinigami on the shoulders. "Look at you! I daresay you'll tower over all of us one day!"

"Ichi-nii?" One of the teenagers, he wasn't sure which, came over to them drying her hands on a dish towel. "Is this one of your students?"

"Yes, dear Yuzu!" her father clapped his hands delightedly. "You got it in one! Out of the park, that's my daughter for you! Tōshirō Hitsugaya, meet my lovely youngest child Yuzu!" He moved to stand behind the captain, pushing him towards the curly-haired girl and bending down to whisper in his ear, "She's available, so you know."

"It's wonderful to meet you, Hitsugaya-kun," Yuzu smiled in a way that was almost maternal. It reminded him of his trip to visit Granny recently. "Will you be staying for dinner with us? Do you need to call your parents?"

The well-earned affront he felt at this tactless comment was subsumed with an effort. This must be the daughter who didn't know about the afterlife. In that case she probably mistook him for a middle-schooler. "It's fine," he nodded. "I can stay. Thank you."

"Good! Alright, we need one more seat at the table! Karin-chan?"

"On it." The other daughter walked by, throwing both Tōshirō and her brother a dubious look. A few seconds later she came back, carrying not only a chair, but a small boy sitting happily atop it. "Look what I found!" Karin exclaimed, and the tike laughed. He hopped down, only then spotting Hitsugaya, and stood staring.

"Your hair is white! Are you a ghost?"

"Err…" While certainly not an odd question considering his natural state, Tōshirō found himself flustered on how to proceed. The boy just regarded him as though actually expecting an answer. He wore dark dress pants and a white button-up shirt. His black hair was fine and straight, lustrous as his mother's. It fell to his shoulders while being swept to one side across the brow, which was an unusual look for a child this young. It made him resemble a small adult. His face was more like Ichigo, with narrow brown eyes and somewhat sharp features for his age. But he differed in the open, friendly smile he wore. A definite improvement over his sister.

"Tōshirō's someone I know from work," the boy's father came to his rescue. He then looked around. "Now how do we arrange seating?"

They better not put me at the kids' table, the Leopard Company captain thought darkly.

As it turned out, there was no such thing. They all ate at two dinner tables pushed together. Kon was sandwiched between Tatsuki and Karin, while Hitsugaya got Rukia on one side and Ichigo on the other, each taking one of the kids to boot. Isshin sat at the head across from Yuzu. Hiruko was three, but old enough to sit at the table, though she fidgeted and looked all around, trying to see everyone at once. It occurred to him that Nanao Ise wasn't present, which was odd. He had thought she lived here, or at least worked in the family clinic. Perhaps she was looking into something else? One less thing to worry about.

Whether blessing or curse, you do seem to draw the ladies' attention.

That's just their maternal instincts.

Indeed, motherhood might be what they have in mind concerning you.

He chose to let that comment slide, and they settled in to eat.

The dinner proved loud, boisterous, and completely unlike what he was used to. To make matters worse, it was absolutely delicious, so he had no reason or even inclination to excuse himself. Instead he wound up crossing chopsticks with Arisawa over the last dumpling, and struggling to resist thirds on the soup, which warmed him more than he dared admit. Though Hitsugaya spoke little, aware of being the odd man out in this arrangement and not wanting to field any more questions about his status, he did not feel excluded. Kon at least knew how to steer the conversation away from dangerous waters, and Rukia certainly made him feel like part of the family.

Stuffed to the gills and almost about to burst, he watched the two grown Kurosaki men argue and Yuzu playing peekaboo with the giggling Hiruko using her napkin, while Kon seemed to have his hands full dividing his attention between Karin and Tatsuki. The house was warm, the topics mundane and carefree. It felt rowdy, yet strangely wholesome. Like some of the more boisterous divisions in Soul Society.

Hitsugaya had a sip of water and peered curiously about. So this is what being in a big family feels like?

Throughout his whole life, he had never experienced anything remotely similar. He had always been ostracized; by the villagers of the First Ring, by his classmates at the Academy, and to a lesser but noticeable extent by the other shinigami after attaining his captaincy. Truly peaceful, fulfilling moments like this were rare.

As if waiting for that thought, he suddenly remembered the winter night he had spent watching the stars with Momo, Rangiku… and Aizen.

He's always with me. I feel like he's watching, even now.

"You're the only captain he wanted dead for sure…"

He had never forgotten Momo's words back when she had him at her mercy. That admission was telling, because it made no sense. Why would Aizen consider me a threat so great that I had to be eliminated? More than Kurosaki, or the Kenpachi, or even Yamamoto. What made him single me out for execution?

Or could it have nothing to do with strength. Is there something between us I'm not aware of? When the time comes, will we face each other alone?

Dinner ended with dessert, but by then Tōshirō had lost his appetite. He wandered off to the den and sat on a couch, brooding. Should I offer to help clean up? I don't want to put a damper on their festivities. All the same, it still feels like I'm being watched.

He turned to get up, and something ducked behind the couch arm.

Actually, it seems I am.

Hitsugaya waited patiently. A few moments later, a small head peaked up once again. Two big childish eyes regarded him before ducking back down. He heard a giggle.

"She's playing with you."

He glanced behind him to find the older twin Karin had come padding up, an affectionate smile on her face. She looked much more relaxed when dealing with her niece than she had been over dinner. "How do I play?" he asked her.

"Are you serious?" His earnestness only earned him a skeptical and somewhat disparaging look. "Well, seems you and I are both watching the kids, so… Lesson #1: It's not as hard as you think."

With that she hopped over the back and sat beside him, holding very still. As Tōshirō watched, the little set of peepers came up again, and immediately Karin whipped her head around. "BOO!"

A delighted shriek followed, and Hiruko disappeared. After a while, though, she made another appearance. This time Karin indicated it was Hitsugaya's turn. Feeling just a little out of his depth, he leaned forward slowly to get a better look, then turned his head very fast. "Boo!"

Another glad squeal as the child dove out of sight. I did it, he thought, feeling a touch of pride. "Thanks for the help," he told Karin.

"Don't get overconfident," she supplied back. "We're only just getting started."

Apparently entertaining kids demanded a great deal of one's attention as well as the patience of a saint. Repetition was the norm, at least where tiny Hiruko was concerned. She seemed willing to play the same games for hours on end. While new to dealing with children, thanks to coaching from Karin, Tōshirō managed to pick up some basic skills. Kids love to be chased, but even when caught, they still insist on running around again. Hide-and-seek only had rules until one player became too excited and couldn't be bothered to remember them. And apparently 'peek-a-boo' was the single funniest thing ever, especially if you added strange faces to the mix.

It took Tōshirō a while to realize that the boy Shinobu, or Jaku as most of them called him, was nowhere to be seen. For some reason that felt wrong, and so while Karin was engaged in a lightning round of tickle war, he went off to check on the lad. Being excluded from games was something he had long familiarity with. If at all possible, he wouldn't want to see another child go through more of the same.

"…and then… then the big worm goes, 'Yugo Soft-Soft' again, and the giant runs at it, and the bald man runs at it, and the robot man, he doesn't run at it, but then a kitty falls down and it goes 'BLOOSH'!"

Jaku was the center of attention in his own way, enthralling his audience with a story of some kind. "Did you say 'Bloosh'?!" His aunt Yuzu gasped in feigned shock and looked at Tatsuki for confirmation, who snorted while wearing a bemused smile.

"BLOOSH!" the little boy repeated. "And it went everywhere, and the robot turned back into a man, and he tripped and fell, and…"

Seems there was no need to worry. He had them well in hand.

As he thought this, Tōshirō felt a small hand seize his own. Looking down he found Hiruko, still clearly high on this new person in her life. "Do you want me to come with you?" the captain asked seriously, to which she nodded with great vigor. Oh, well. Duty calls.

Rukia and Ichigo came in to watch their play after a while, and then there was nothing but for them to join in too at their daughter's insistence. Lady Rukia of the noble House of Kuchiki made faces that would have caused her brother Byakuya to faint from disgrace, while Ichigo consented to be a horse, carrying his delighted son around the living room. The father Isshin came somersaulting in and challenged his eldest to a push-up match while each held one of the kids on their backs, which Ichigo was forced to accept. He lost, but only because his knee gave out at a crucial moment. Tatsuki proceeded to show them both up by surpassing their records with both kids riding her shoulder blades, Shinobu holding an overjoyed Hiruko in place to keep her from falling off. Hitsugaya sat back and watched the evening's merriment continue.

After a while the children were clearly nodding off, but Isshin would hear nothing about their parents taking them home. Instead he pulled out a futon and piled it with pillows and blankets, where brother and sister soon lay asleep. Meanwhile the 'adults' convened in the kitchen for a conference, while the 'kids,' which included Tōshirō and the twins, were left to entertain themselves.

"I know what we can do!" Yuzu exclaimed merrily.

"No, Yuzu, not that!" her sister groaned, but the chipper teen had already dashed off to find something. She turned a pained look on Hitsugaya and ran a hand through her hair. "Sorry about this."

"I can't wait," he deadpanned.

She stole a cautious look around before scooting closer to him. Any concern about what this might portend was dispelled when the stern-faced young woman fixed him with a knowing look. "So you're one of the heavy hitters, huh?" she murmured. "Which division?"

"Leopard," he affirmed. "Formerly the Tenth."

"So, like, it's been a few years since we heard anything. Not since that witch attacked my brother. I sometimes forget they're even out there." Karin studied him strangely. "Do you?"

"I can't." Acting on impulse, he turned and lifted his shirt slightly, allowing her to see the scar running across his back. "They marked me too."

"Huh." She made a move to touch him, hesitated, then drew back. "You know, I think I met your old lieutenant a few times. She's the busty blonde, right? The one nobody knows what she's thinking?"

Tōshirō was about to contradict her, only to realize after a moment that this probably described Rangiku Matsumoto as well as possible. She had been the first woman to truly make him question his worth. And sanity. Nowadays that number was nowhere near in danger of falling short. Hope this girl doesn't turn out to be another one. "Last time we met, she offered to train me. Or kill me. I'm not quite certain how to think of her anymore."

"Yeah." She cast a look over her shoulder, frowning at something behind them. "I know the feeling." Before he could continue, Karin turned back to him. "Anyway, thanks for helping with the kids. You're pretty good with them, once they warm up to you."

"You certainly don't have that problem. What's it like being someone's aunt? I've only got the word of that headcase Noboru Shihoin to judge by, and he worships the ground his aunt walks on."

"It's… wild," she admitted. "I was scared at first, because I didn't know what it meant. But just being with them… as they learn all the stuff we take for granted? It's watching a new person come into the world, but more important than anyone else, you know? They're the ones you're determined to protect, no matter what it costs. And you want them to be happy when they see you. Kind of like being in love, I guess."

He had never heard that description before, but once again, it fit. There was no time for further deliberation on the topic, as Yuzu came racing back in. She had on a gaudy Middle Eastern turban, of all things, with a sparkling cloak flung around her shoulders and clutching a deck of cards.

"Tarot cards," the high school senior explained. "With these, I shall interpret your future, Hitsugaya-kun!" She seated herself before them, adopting a somber look that was belied by her outlandish getup. "Choose four cards to begin with, to learn your fate!"

"She makes up her own rules," Karin mock-whispered, causing her sister to level a frosty glare at her, to which she shrugged dismissively. "Respect the powers that be, Karin-chan!" And she spread the cards face-down in front of him.

Ever eager to oblige, the captain selected a few at random. Yuzu reverently withdrew each after every selection and laid them out. One by one she began to turn them over.

"First we have… The Empress, a mother figure, symbolizing birth, but also uncertainty, for women are very mysterious."

She flashed a wicked smile at Tōshirō, making him wonder which of these girls was actually more dangerous to the opposite sex. "Next we find The Lovers, who conquer the odds in order to be together, like Orpheus and his great love."

This brought a snort of disbelief from Karin. She cast another glance over her shoulder as Kon and Ichigo raised their voices, only to be quieted by Rukia and Tatsuki.

Yuzu continued. "Third card is Judgement; rebirth. Very interesting. And lastly, you chose Death." As if anticipating a bad reaction from him she quickly added, "But don't worry, Hitsugaya-kun. It's not meant to be taken literally. He is the pale rider, trampling the fallen ruler as it shows on the card, for even kings must bow to him. He symbolizes the breaking of bonds that hold us together; or does he set us free?"

Her voice had sunk to a cryptic whisper. Nonetheless, for all the stage drama, the captain couldn't help but feel a bit unnerved by this arcane display. "So is that all?"

"Not quite! I will now draw the final card myself." She reshuffled the deck, paused to gather her mystic energies (or just to heighten the tension), and pulled out a card. Upon turning it over, the fair-haired seer frowned. "Oh, The Empress again, but reversed. Truth and resolution of doubt. Perhaps this means your questions will all be answered! You don't have a test coming up in school, do you, Hitsugaya-kun?"

"No, I already made it into the Academy I wanted," he responded back with a knowing smile.

"Well, anyway, thank you for playing. Now Karin, it's your turn!"

"Wonderful," her older sister groused, but consented to go along with what she clearly thought was a bunch of hocus-pocus.

For his part, Tōshirō Hitsugaya considered what the concepts spelled out here meant to him. A mother figure… well, he had just visited Granny. She certainly counted. Beating the odds? I can think of several people who might qualify for that. Rangiku leapt out at him for obvious reasons, and he tried to shake an ill presentiment. That woman could charm the King of Hell. Then rebirth… could mean anything. And Death? Well, I am a death god, so that only makes sense.

He considered this last one more thoroughly. Breaking bonds… here I was just thinking about what strange twist of fate bound me to Aizen. Were we brothers in a past life? And that last one, the queen who dispels all doubt. Maybe I'll get to meet the Queen of Soul Society one day? Women supposedly love me, after all.

As he thought this, someone ruffled his snowy hair. The shinigami stiffened, then threw a sour look at the suddenly smiling swami across from him. "Sorry, sorry," Yuzu laughed. "I couldn't help myself. You remind me so much of a boy who used to work at Rukia-neesan's shop! I haven't seen him in forever. But really, thanks for participating in my little séance. Oh! That reminds me…"

The girl sprang up to go racing into the kitchen. Hitsugaya watched her leave with ill grace. If she tries to give me a bag of candy, I swear…

That did not prove to be the case. Yuzu came tumbling back holding something in her hands, which she thrust out to him. "Here. You can have this."

When he saw what she carried, he nearly jerked back in shock. Astonished, the captain looked up at the smiling teen. "What…?"

"Don't let its looks fool you," she insisted. "It's a good luck charm! My brother gave it to me years ago, for protection. It's meant to warn you if evil spirits are in the area. I never had reason to test it myself, because ghosts don't seem to want anything to do with me. But you have white hair! You must have all kinds of spiritual attraction. This will keep you safe."

She sounded so wholesome, so innocent. Tōshirō had no reason to doubt her sincerity.

Just his own.

Held in her hands was the so-called 'substitute shinigami badge' the Gotei 13 had given Ichigo years ago. The same treacherous charm he himself helped enchant to bind the unwitting human's Hollow inside him if he ever re-entered Soul Society.

The broken mask carved on the talisman stared back at him. Feeling a chill, he nonetheless accepted this macabre token. "Thanks," he managed with a sickly smile. "I'll keep hold of it."

Karin appeared doubtful, but Yuzu accepted his words with good grace before launching into another idea of how they could entertain themselves. She collected the Tarot cards, spreading them out for a second so they could admire all of them. For some reason Hitsugaya focused on the third card he chose; Judgement. It seemed appropriate, especially now. So it was meant to signify rebirth?

Hitsugaya considered the cursed item he held, then chanced a look over to the dining room, where Ichigo was emphasizing something to Tatsuki with finger raised. The kid's soul poured forth with more intensity than ever. Anyone who might have known him from before the Autumn War would have found it hard to believe a soul that powerful could become so much stronger. But since the birth of his child and the defeat of his Inner Hollow, that certainly proved to be the case. Strength that might even be enough to challenge a vasto lorde now existed in that boy.

The conversation they had earlier came back to him. The potential for a Hollow exists in every soul not purified by a konsō. That untapped spiritual strength was the same one Aizen Sosuke needed the hōgyoku for to unleash in himself and his allies, making them absurdly powerful.

I don't have a hōgyoku. But I might have the next best thing.

Once more Tōshirō regarded the broken symbol in his palm. A mask worn by a shinigami… and they're not officially part of the Gotei 7. More like freelance agents. Think it's time I paid a call on our old colleagues, the Masked Army.

The Vaizard were about to get a visit.

To be continued…