Matsumoto Rangiku was afraid.
It was rather silly of her, considering she was still in the Court. It wasn't as though a Hollow could get her here. It wasn't as though it wasn't the training field for all shinigami, those in the divisions or those in the Academy. It wasn't as though she was helpless; Haineko was a familiar weight in her crimson and white obi. And it wasn't as though she weren't the most advanced at shun-po in her class.
It wasn't as though there was a threat out in this empty, dark wood that she couldn't handle, necessarily.
She just wasn't alone.
There was someone standing directly behind her.
She tried not to change her breathing, instead keeping her eyes glued to the golden chain in her hands. Tiny dapples of starlight danced in a slight breeze that tickled the canopy above, and if not for them it would be too dark to even make out the trees. She'd picked a moonless night, of all nights, but the thought of returning to her dormitory without it-
Maybe it's one of the secret police. It would make sense they'd train at night. And technically, she had no business being in the woods at that time of night anyway, so maybe they were just checking her out. Waiting to see if she'd notice.
Because she sure as hell hadn't noticed, until just now, that someone had walked right up behind her.
If she wasn't ejected from the Academy for this, she was going to send Ikkaku to the Fourth Division first aid station in a pail.
And besides the reiatsu-less stranger behind her, she wasn't noticing anything besides moss, and small grasses, and tree roots. Her fingers curled around the chain, the broken link digging lightly into her forefinger.
She wasn't leaving without the other half.
She took a calming breath, hiding the hitch with a growl, as if in frustration. Maybe he wouldn't say anything to her. Maybe he'd just wait until she turned, if she turned. Maybe she could keep whoever it was from noticing her tear-stained face.
Maybe whoever it was thought she was crying from fear. That would give her an advantage – and she'd need it, judging by the height she sensed behind her. Whoever it was, they were too tall to be a woman. She was by far the tallest female in her class, and this shadow was at least four inches above her.
She took another step, as though continuing her search. The presence behind her didn't seem to change distances.
Okay. Waiting was going to be harder than she thought. Perhaps nonchalance was the way to go?
"Are you so bored that you'll follow me all night?"
She sensed a tiny bit of spirit pressure behind her, and froze as the man behind her snorted lightly.
"Matsumoto-san, you cryin'?"
She gasped involuntarily, then used that as an excuse to furtively wipe at her face. The crimson sleeves of her kimono were rough but absorptive.
It was a stranger, all right.
Just one she happened to know.
And she wouldn't be caught dead looking at him with tears on her cheeks.
"No." It didn't come out nearly as angrily as she would have liked. "What do you care?"
"Let me see."
She didn't turn to him, not wanting to see him. She knew he was in the Court. Occasionally they caught glimpses of each other in the hallway.
But he hadn't acknowledged the fact that that morning, he'd left. And he hadn't returned.
He'd come here, instead.
And, like a fool, she'd followed him again.
He stopped hiding his reiatsu, letting it wash over her. It was almost like a familiar, threadbare blanket that didn't keep off the chill, but brought the shadow of warmth with happy memories of the past. She caught him in her peripheral vision as he approached on her left, and he looked over her shoulder, at the hands she clenched to her abdomen.
"Come, Matsumoto-san. It can't be that bad."
And then somehow his hands surrounded hers.
They were warm, soft as they slowly manipulated her fists open. As he peeled her fingers apart she could feel the callouses he had built up in endless hours of practice with Shinsou. She had the same now from Haineko.
He'd never been afraid of hard work. He just didn't see the need to do it himself when there was a chance he could make someone else do it in his stead.
His right arm brushed against hers, and when she looked up, his face was far nearer than she had thought. It was bowed a little lower, almost at her eye-level, and then he held up the broken chain in front of them both.
Ikkaku hadn't even cut it. He'd just caught it with the tip of his zankpaktou and wrenched the links forcefully apart. A cut she could just bend back, but now one end of the chain was completely mangled -
"Ai, that's not so bad, Matsumoto-san."
She fought to prevent an unconscious sniffle, then glared at him. "What are you doing out here?"
He smiled widely, his eyes hidden by the shadows, and let the chain play across his fingers. "Just takin' a walk."
She wanted to ask him if he was going to walk away again.
But before she could do that, he stepped directly in front of her.
She stared at his face, not more than an inch from hers, wondering how she'd let him get so close to her. She was becoming an expert when it came to boys – they were after only one thing and while she was more than flattered that they could notice them beneath the humbly cut kimono, she was usually very protective of her personal space.
The way the starlight fell on him, all she could see was the lower half of his face. Still with the easy smile. She looked away first, back down at the chain he had taken from her, and noticed a flash of gold in his left hand.
He reached out with that hand and touched a finger beneath her chin, lifting up her face to his. There was no wind beneath the trees, not even her breath stirred. She wondered if he could see her face. If he was looking at her like he used to look at her. When he thought she was sleeping, when she wasn't paying attention. When he knew she couldn't look back into his eyes. She knew, she knew he was really looking at her. That if there was more light, she would be able to see his eyes again.
He'd been hiding his eyes for so long, she wasn't sure she really remembered what they looked like.
"Y'don' even need to have it mended."
She stared at him, completely off-balance. "The chain's broken, Gin-"
"No it ain't."
He opened the hand that had remained beneath her chin, raising it to her eyes and rolling his fingers so that an inch and a half separated his forefinger and thumb. And there, between them, was the ring.
She blinked, astonished. He'd been following her for a while, she supposed it wasn't odd that she'd have overlooked it and he'd simply picked it up after she'd walked by-
"Y'didn't think I'd let you lose this, didja?"
She stilled the urge to slap his hand out of her face. Was he trying to be nice, or was he trying to deceive her?
"It wasn't as though I'd lose it," she growled. "Ikkaku and I were sparring and he-"
Ichimaru Gin clucked his tongue. "My, my. That's one young man takin' his life into his hands."
He was definitely mocking her.
She bit back her retort and let him have his laugh. Had Gin seen the match? Once she'd realized what Ikkaku had done, rather than be thankful he hadn't accidentally sliced her throat open she'd gone after him with such force that their instructor had actually yanked Haineko out of her grasp.
He dropped the hand away, satisfied with her expression, apparently, and bowed his head again, showing her the crown of his white hair as his fingers moved deftly in the darkness.
"Why are you out here, Gin?"
He didn't respond, exactly, though he paused in his work. She wasn't sure what he thought he was doing, the chain was broken and she'd need to find a jeweler to mend it for her. It irked her that he had seen her concern over it, considering he'd probably killed someone for it rather than 'finding' it as he'd claimed that morning. So crestfallen when he'd see that it was far too big for her to wear, even on her thumb.
Far too self-satisfied when he'd presented her with a golden chain, just two afternoons later.
Far too happy when he'd seen how pleased the gesture had made her.
It wouldn't have mattered if he had never found a chain. She'd instantly woven a grass loop to hang it on, having to make it thick to support the weight of that ring. It was the fact that he'd thought of her, that he'd brought it for her.
"That hemp made your neck look fat," he'd said carelessly, holding the gold chain out for her to see.
It wasn't something they had needed. It wasn't food or water, shelter or fire. It had been a gift.
And she had been more grateful for that than the fruit that had saved her life.
"I told ya. Out for a walk. Graduated shinigami can do that."
She frowned at the reminder that she was breaking the rules, and if anything, his grin widened more.
"D'you still trust me, Matsumoto-san?"
She blinked, wondering at the slight change of his tone, and he held up the ring, showing that he'd somehow attached the mangled links of the broken chain around the ring itself. It even looked as though it had been mounted that way on purpose.
Then he reached for her throat.
She was frozen. If he had paralyzed her with reiatsu, or kidou, he could not have immobilized her more effectively. He said nothing and moved without hesitation, looping the chain around her neck gently. He had stepped in quite close, and his fingertips brushed her collarbone as he picked up and slid the free end of the chain through the ring.
But there was no way to keep it there, there was no clasp-
Then he reached up his left hand, and gently tugged the collar of her kimono loose.
She could move then. She stopped his hand dead, grabbing his wrist tightly. He didn't fight her, nor did he pull away. Nor did he speak.
Most guys usually started stuttering apologies about then. He didn't. The playful smile never left his face, and with his unbound right hand he dropped the open end of chain down the front of her kimono. It felt warm against her skin, radiated the heat it had stolen from his hands as it snaked into place.
"See? That's what those are for."
She continued to stare at him, shocked, and he slowly lowered his right hand.
He had not just done that –
She had not just let him do that!
Who the hell did he think he was!
She released his wrist with a shove, which of course didn't force him back a single step. It did make him chuckle, and as she withdrew her hand in disgust she accidentally brushed the front of his white kimono.
He looked so pale, in the darkness he might have been a ghost.
"Y'could've held on a little longer," he said softly, "if y'wanted to."
He was far too close to her -
Slowly Matsumoto opened her eyes.
The reiatsu in the room was totally, completely, absolutely wrong.
The ceiling of the 10th division office greeted her, the usual stained wood panels warm and friendly. To her left, the back of the worn red couch gazed down at her, a little admonishingly.
Right.
Rangiku stretched luxuriously, ignoring the sudden, child-like gasp that her movements had elicited from the other person in the room. She felt her lips turn up into a smile. It was as far from the acidic snort she usually heard as it could have possibly been.
"Hn, Hinimori-fukataichou. What brings you to our division at this time of the . . . " She pulled her eyes open, forcing them wide to clear the last of the sleep from them. Bright sunlight was still streaming in.
Damn. No more than an hour to two. She had missed these naps so badly it ached.
" . . . afternoon," she finished, and rubbed the back of her neck, pulling free any hair that might have gotten caught in her kimono.
"M-Matsumoto-fukataichou!" When she finally sat up, she was not surprised to see the diminutive vice-captain of the 5th division caught between thinking of bowing or simply entering the room, and as such, she stood, half-bent at the waist, in the center of the doorway.
"I did not mean to disturb you-"
"Ach. Come in. He's not here," she added, with a trace of amusement.
Hinamori Momo tried not to appear too relieved, and it was all Matsumoto could do not to shake her head.
"Thank you, Matsumoto-kun," she replied softly, and entered on silent feet.
Matsumoto Rangiku watched without watching her taichou's childhood friend – and more, though he didn't admit it. She looked only slightly better than she had in the communication with Yamamoto-sama. There were still bags under her eyes, telling more plainly than her slightly shaking hands of poor sleep. She was definitely thinner, though that could have been due to her long convalescence than any anxiety she was feeling now. After hesitating a moment more, she finally took a seat on the couch's edge, as far from the seating fukataichou of the 10th division as she could get without falling off.
Rangiku briefly considered tickling the other woman into submission. She'd always been very mild, but she'd always had confidence, a sense of self-worth and gave the same gentle impression that she could and would utterly destroy you that Matsumoto often sensed from Unohana-taichou.
Now that was gone.
Shattered probably at the same moment Aizen shattered everything else.
"So. Is this business, or should I break out the sake?"
The woman smiled gently, and her dark eyes flitted to Matsumoto's briefly. "I-I came to ask you . . . a question."
"Me?" That was a surprise. She would have been sure the woman had come to apologize to Hitsugaya, considering apparently her conversation with him had not gone so smoothly.
Not that he'd admitted that, either.
And not that they'd had too much time to talk about it. After their brief encounter with the Arrancar, they'd stuck around to ensure another would not be hot on its heels, left Yumichika and Renji to keep things under control, and returned to Soul Society to give in-person reports to the other captains.
For the purposes of directing their training.
Technically she should had been outside giving a few of the seated 10th division shinigami a workout, but the couch had called. And no matter how wonderful Inoue Orihime was, her apartment would never be the same as this room.
Her room.
Eventually Toushirou would see it that way too.
And frankly, given the encounters and the level of damage that had been inflicted on both sides, she didn't want to see any of the 10th division seated shinigami anywhere near the Arrancars. They'd be wiped out before they could even draw.
She couldn't help her gaze traveling to Haineko, whole and unbroken on the low wooden table before the couch.
Hinamori didn't seem to notice her friend's sudden lack of attention. "I . . . I wanted to ask you about . . . Ichimaru Gin."
Rangiku effortless stifled any reaction, instead putting on a wide smile and turning to more fully face the fukataichou of the 5th division.
"I'm afraid I don't know much," she offered. "What about him?"
Momo was looking at her hands, struggling with each other in her lap as though they were trying to wring the very blood from her fingers. "I . . . I heard that . . . Hitsugaya-kun had sworn to kill him."
She'd heard the same.
He'd done it the first time after they'd taken Kira and Hinamori to detention cells. He'd reiterated it before she'd arrived to block that fateful blow, meant for Hitsugaya but diverted for Hinamori herself.
He meant it.
She sighed, then shook her head. "I've heard the same thing."
Hinamori's eyes were large as they stared at her, shifting slightly as though they were desperately searching her face for something. Oddly, Rangiku felt like she was giving something away.
"But . . . you loved him once, didn't you?"
She let her eyes widen a bit comically. "Ne, Gin or taichou!"
The effect was the one she wanted; Hinamori looked shocked for a second before she broke eye contact, and had to take a breath and start again. "I only meant, I thought you and Gin-taichou-"
"He's not a captain anymore, Hinamori." She tried to make it light.
The girl paused again. "You and Gin met each other as children, in Rukongai?"
Oy. Was she going to have to tell the whole story again? Did Momo honestly not think she could see where this was headed?
"He saved my life. Twice," she added thoughtfully. "Once, as I lay starving to death. The second time, from a group of men we were robbing."
Momo's eyes were large, and watched her patiently.
Rangiku shook her head. "We didn't have the same relationship you and taichou did, Hinamori. Life was harder for us. No permanent home, no older souls to take us in . . ."
"But why?"
Why indeed. She wondered if that was the reason Gin had given himself every time he walked away, to try to quash his guilt It was guilt that kept bringing him back, after all.
She took a breath to speak, then paused. Then smiled slightly.
"Have you ever seen Ichimaru Gin's eyes, Hinamori? Really seen them?"
The younger lieutenant stared at her, mouth ajar, before mutely shaking her head.
"They're red. Where Hitsugaya's eyes are green, Gin's are as red as blood."
She couldn't even recall the last time she'd actually seen them. Seen him that serious. She glanced again, almost unconsciously, at her zanpaktou.
"No one would take in a child with red eyes. Even in the afterlife, it was too unusual." And more than once a reason for their being attacked.
Of course, his attitude hadn't helped.
"Ichimaru Gin walks away," she said simply, catching Momo's eyes. "He leaves. It's what he does. It's what he did."
She sighed softly, looking back down at her hands. While still balled into her kimono, they'd settled down quite a bit. "I see."
"I was very grateful to him," she continued, laying her head against the curved back of the couch. "He took care of me, when I was too scared to do it for myself. He kept us fed, kept clothes on our backs. He would fight off brigands five times his size with only a tree branch or a rock . . ." She stopped, then shook her head. "But he always wanted the easy out. It's why Shinsou matches him so perfectly."
"I don't understand."
Rangiku allowed herself a sincere grin. "Have you ever seen a shikai as lazy as his? He doesn't even have to move to pierce his opponent, no matter how they try to dodge."
Well, he had to move a little more than, say, Byakuya-taichou, but it wasn't as if he actually had to swing the blade. He could even manipulate the sword to curve upwards or down without more than a millimeter's twitch of his hand.
"Neither do you, Matsumoto-san."
She blinked for a moment, then laughed. "It almost sounded as though you were calling me lazy, Hinamori-chan."
Immediately the shorter woman ducked her head. "I apologiz-"
Rangiku waved a lazy hand dismissively.
A comfortable silence extended between them for some moments, Hinamori formulating her next question and Rangiku wondering at the coincidence of dreaming of him only to be woken to this.
Some of it needed to be said. Some of it needed to be heard. By both pairs of ears.
"He seemed to have such respect for you."
This time her snort was not measured, and it was very bitter. "What makes you say that?"
Her face was very serious. "He was attacking Shirou-chan. When he dodged, the attack was aimed for me, instead. All you did was speak to him, and he withdrew –"
"That's what he does, Hinamori." She repeated it a little harder this time.
"Do you . . . think that maybe it's something more?"
Rangiku leaned up, looking the other woman squarely in the eye. "Gin shattered Haineko with that blow."
The girl's eyes widened slightly, and Matsumoto grimaced. That was one of the things those ears didn't need to hear.
It didn't make it less true.
"He withdrew because he realized even with a broken zanpaktou I could defeat Kira with shikai, and taichou was winning the fight. If he had killed me, taichou would have ended him before he could shorten Shinsou enough to defend himself." Among other things. "He spared us both to save his own life."
Momo looked at her for a long moment, then dropped her gaze.
"You came to ask whether I would ask taichou to break his oath, didn't you."
Hinamori visibly started, then dropped her eyes back to her hands. They were still shaking.
"Shirou-chan will kill him," she whispered.
Matsumoto stared at Haineko, watching the light play on the lacquered sheath, watching nothing at all.
"Yes, he will," she finally replied.
She realized they were no longer talking about Gin.
The hands twisted painfully into the folds of the black kimono, and tears started to glisten in the other girl's eyes. "But what if-"
Matsumoto mutely shook her head.
"You can't know that!" the other girl cried, finally succumbing to tears. "You can't know-!"
"I do," she said simply, unable to keep the sympathy out of her voice. "Because Hitsugaya-kun does. Trust him."
Yes, trust the spiky white-haired man in her life instead of the straight-haired one.
Or the long-haired one, come to think of it. It had been a very long time since she'd last had sake with Ukitake-taichou and Shunsui-taichou. Perhaps she should do so before they had to return to the living world. It would be interesting to get their take on the entire situation.
Disheartening, probably. Possibly even defeating. But interesting nonetheless.
Hinamori struggled with that for a moment, then collapsed in tears. Rangiku reached across the distance between them, eliminating it and dragging the girl into her embrace.
"But Aizen-sama will kill him!" she sobbed into Matsumoto's shoulder. "They'll destroy each other!"
That was all too likely. If Hitsugaya could actually do it at all.
Matsumoto stroked Momo's hair, resting her cheek against the sobbing girl's head and waiting patiently for her to regain her composure. It took more time than she had thought; a full ten minutes passed before the other lieutenant withdrew, wiping her eyes on her sleeve and looking as lost as a child soul that had just been buried by a shinigami.
"Trust Hitsugaya-taichou," she repeated.
Momo nodded, sniffling, her eyes downcast. And Rangiku realized suddenly that all her careful words had changed nothing.
Hinamori wasn't convinced. She just didn't feel like fighting anymore. Didn't feel like facing the truth, even when it came from Yamamoto's lips. So she'd withdraw to the 5th division office, where there were no words trying to convince her otherwise, and take out that letter that Aizen had written, and -
How was that any different from her ring?
"I've taken up too much of your time, Matsumoto-san-"
"Come by anytime," she replied, giving the girl a half-hearted smile as Hinamori stood from the couch. "We need to have a girl's night out before too long."
Before they couldn't, anymore. Before there wouldn't be any more girls to attend.
Unohana-taichou stood a chance of surviving this battle, if it could be survived. Not that she attended many parties. Her lieutenant, Isane, and Isane's sister Kiyone, neither had a prayer. Kurosaki Ichigo had knocked them cold without even using his zanpaktou. Probably he could have done the same to her. Nanao was incredibly skilled with kidou, but her taichou would likely not let her into the battle.
She had always felt that the captains, including hers, were a little too protective of their lieutenants. Now she had an inkling why.
They were going to be wiped out. If what they'd faced in the real world had been nothing more than the grunts -
The other woman smiled, her eyes almost closing for the huge, fake smile she flashed. "Hai, Matsumoto-san! Thank you!"
Rangiku just nodded, and let her head drop back against the sofa.
To his credit, he waited almost two full minutes after she had gone before walking in.
She felt more than heard him stop, halfway to his desk, as though surprised to see her sitting up. "Oy, Matsumoto. You awake?"
"Hai, taichou."
Her somber reply seemed to put him a little off balance, and she listened to him continue over to his desk, opening the lovely ebony box that held his calligraphy brush. It had been a gift from Yamamoto when he'd attained the rank of Captain, the same he gave to all the new captains.
Possibly reminding them that they were going to have their weight in paperwork before the ceremony was finished.
In Hitsugaya's case, probably more than his weight.
"Something wrong, Matsumoto-san?"
She kept her eyes closed. While the dim, big-boobed bimbo image worked surprisingly well on the 11th division, and keeping it up in the real world had been no end of amusement to her, she knew Hitsugaya saw right through it.
Well, she hoped he did.
"Hai, taichou."
There was a silence, in which she did not hear brush-strokes on paper. So he'd stilled.
"He'll sense your reiatsu, the same as I did."
Still nothing. If possible, the room had become more silent.
"Gin shattered Haineko, taichou."
The ebony box closed.
"Haineko cracked, Matsumoto." His voice was . . . oddly husky. "Your zanpaktou didn't break."
"That blow was meant for you." She didn't move.
It was very, very odd to be having this conversation. The last time she'd spoken this seriously with her captain had been a week after he had been placed into the position. He was consistently serious. Usually, she was merely following his commands, and she did so unhesitatingly.
But not this time. There were more things he needed to hear. And since Hinamori had all but written a script to set it up-
"Hai. Most of his speed was behind it."
"It was a single blow, taichou. I . . . don't have the power to follow you to him."
The end of the sofa cushion, so recently vacated by Hinamori, sighed quietly,
Rangiku's eyes flew open, turning in shock to see Hitsugaya lounged there. He was leaning against the armrest as though they did it regularly, and his white haori draped over it, so that it looked as though he were relaxing against a bank of snow.
"So get stronger."
She stared at him a moment, then closed her eyes and let her head fall back again. "You sound like Zaraki-taichou."
"Oof. That was insulting."
She opened her eyes, regarding the ceiling. Perhaps this would have been better to write instead of speaking. "I can't kill him, Hitsugaya-sama."
The young captain looked at her, his blue-green eyes large in contrast to his face. So much confidence. So much resolve.
God, he was only a kid.
"You don't have to."
Matsumoto reached up, touching the ring that lay against her sternum.
"He gave that to you."
She nodded. "It's my letter," she said simply.
Silence stretched between them for a moment, and though he was taking up significantly more of the couch than Hinamori had, he felt even further away.
"You don't have to do that, either," he answered.
Only her eyes moved, looking at him.
He had that self-assured smirk on his face. She considered swatting it off.
"I trust you, Matsumoto," he said simply.
After a while, she picked up her head, stretching a little, before reaching out a graceful hand to pick up her zanpaktou. Haineko had healed long ago from that crack. Before Aizen and his subordinates had left Soul Society, in fact. He had been whole when he lay across Gin's throat.
Why was she so afraid to see him broken again?
"Glad to hear it, taichou. Go and get Hyourinmaru."
He stared at her. "Oh?"
She stood, shaking out her auburn hair before tucking Haineko into her obi. "We need to work on your bankai."
His expression became guarded. "M-Matsumoto, the limit-"
"The arrancar was right," she said simply. "Those petals symbolize your power over Hyourinmaru." Though she'd never seen them disappear that fast before. He was probably right about that – that had been a symptom of the limit they'd later lifted.
Of course, when fighting a higher-level opponent, the problem wasn't that they'd eventually shatter on their own.
"Ichimaru's Shinsou will be able to take out half those petals in a single pass." It would effectively cut his bankai time in half. Assuming he wasn't sliced in half along with the petals. It would be something Gin would notice instantly, and like Hitsugaya hadn't realized his dodge put Hinamori in danger, his fighting style wouldn't put much emphasis on protecting those petals.
"Once you can fend me off, we should get Kuchiki-taichou or Soi-sama to spar with you," she continued. "If Gin will see that opening, so will Aizen." Hyourinmaru had plenty of strength. It was really speed that would save Hitsugaya in those battles.
If anything would.
He hadn't moved from his place on the couch. She wasn't surprised. She'd just finished telling him she was too weak to take on the elite Arrancars, and now she was declaring herself capable of damaging his bankai.
She wondered, very briefly, if Haineko had the strength to shatter even one.
The zanpaktou didn't answer her unspoken question, but that was like him. He hadn't even cried out when he'd been broken.
If she didn't have the strength when she started, she would have it when she finished.
"Your shikai isn't suited for this sort of training," he noted.
She waved a hand dismissively. "Then I won't use shikai."
Fin
Author's Notes: Wow! I got feedback :feels loved: Thank you all for your kind words!
These were originally started because there were things about Bleach that I didn't understand. Why Byakuya was so aloof and spoiled when his past self had broken all kinds of laws for a submissive little country girl. Why a smart guy like Gin would follow Aizen knowing he was going to get screwed in the end. Why Matsumoto wore a ring on a lariat and Gin never seemed willing to interfere with her. Why a pink-haired little girl with flowers on her sword was a lieutenant in a division where even the 3rd seat has mastered Bankai. How Aizen somehow managed not to kill a single person in ten eps (and tens of comics) of fights.
I've got more to answer.
This chapter is actually a rewrite – the first version was a great deal darker, and some of these were supposed to be funny! I tried to lighten this chapter at least a little, and I promise the next one will be funny. Funny ha-ha, not funny weird. Not funny-funny, but funnier.
So if I haven't covered your captain or lieutenant of choice, hang in there. I'm working on it! If there's a question you've always had about the Bleach world that needs to be answered, let me know and I'll see what I can pull out of my -er, pull out of thin air.