Unohana Retsu was afraid.

She didn't run, though. She stood her ground as the flood of shocked men and women poured by her. And stared.

Of the entire crowd, she was probably the only one that was more afraid of the man than of the beast.

Blood trickled down her right cheek, but the idea of wiping it away never occurred to her. She just felt it, an odd prickling sensation, and the more she concentrated on it, the more prickling it became.

It, and the pain of the cut, served to ground her in reality. This was really happening.

It was not her first time to be injured in sparring. In a few months they'd all be taking their exit exams, which meant they'd had significant training. It also meant they had little combat experience. So cramming a classful of student shinigami into a large courtyard to practice using their zanpaktous on each other was going to eventually lead to some unfortunate but unavoidable casualties.

She was thinking, though, that her sensei wasn't going to see this one as 'unavoidable.'

It was also, possibly, the very first time in the history of Soul Society that one student's zanpaktou had killed another student by eating him.

The large, single eye on the beast looked mildly confused as it surveyed the courtyard, and then it fell on her.

And strangely, she felt no fear.

In fact, it was all she could do to prevent her feet from moving, from taking her right to the very mouth of that beast. She longed to touch its skin, reassure it that even though it wasn't getting the greatest reception, and had certainly not done what she'd wanted it to, that she wasn't angry.

She wasn't even really sure what she wanted it to do. Her zanpaktou had never uttered so much as a word to her until right then. It wasn't as though she'd been in danger of losing her life –

But it wasn't as though she'd been winning, either.

"Che, Retsu," a voice called out above the startled chatter. "Why so serious?"

She stared at the manifestation of her zanpaktou – or perhaps it was really a shikai? If so, it was huge-

Huge wasn't even the right word. The white stone that made up the floor of the courtyard was cracked and cratered by the viciously taloned feet, and even as the thing shifted slightly, trying to get a good look around, more of that stone was ground to dust beneath its weight. It was almost disc-shaped, with massive, fleshy wings that looked more suited for flying through river rather than air.

Minatzuki even had a tail.

She supposed it made since, considering her sealed zanpaktou was a gigantic, wickedly curved no-datchi. But what . . .

That might have been why she was so serious.

That zanpaktou. Her Minatzuki. Now she finally knew its name. His name. There was no doubt, looking at that slightly reproachful eye, that mouth that stretched almost the entire length of his body, that he was a he. And he was apparently capable of thought.

Was he disappointed in her?

The outdoor courtyard had, for the most part, cleared. It was only going to be a few more moments before their instructor brought the general of the captains – and the academy's founder – out to see what it was that she had done.

Could she seal him before that occurred?

Unohana looked down at the green-wrapped hilt in her hand. It felt large and heavy, and extremely unbalanced without the blade. That blade was almost as long as she was tall, so it kind of make sense that the same proportions would exist on her shikai. That the attacking blade – or in this case, mouth – would continue to be surprisingly huge.

How could she condense this thing back into a blade? He was as huge as some of the bankai she had seen in their texts. A new thought occurred to her horrified brain. What if she couldn't seal him back in? What if they had to defeat him because she didn't have the power to control him?

Such a big zanpaktou for such a nice girl, they said. All that power but no will to use it, they said. Being controlled by a zanpaktou instead of the other way around.

They said that her zanpaktou had mastered her.

It wasn't true. She could have passed exit exams without ever knowing the name of her zanpaktou. But it would have made her the only one in the class. Almost fully half of her class had already mastered their shikais, at least summoning and controlling their powers. Once they were placed in one of the seven divisions, they would be put against real Hollows, and the serious training would really begin.

It was Sensei's job to show them their potential, and their captain's job to help them achieve it.

But what captain would take on a woman that didn't like to fight?

She already knew she was headed for the fourth division. It was the least combative of all the divisions, created for medical treatment and relief. Despite her vicious-looking sword, she would much rather tend to the wounded than create the wounds herself. She was good at it, too – the very best their kidou instructor had ever seen with those spells. She didn't have to like fighting. There would be a place there for her, and it was exactly where she wanted to go.

Giving up, they called it. Admitting that she didn't have the resolve to command the power that was hers to take.

Afraid, they called her.

And so it was not unexpected to find that, in sparring exercises, she had to dodge not only the attacks from her opponent, but attacks from other students' opponents. They would laugh, shrug them off, tell her to stop getting in the way or tell the supposed target to stop dodging and putting her in danger. But she knew some of those attacks had been crafted specifically knowing that the initial target would dodge, and she would be there to receive the wound instead.

It was why her cheek was bleeding.

And it made her angry. Angry to the roots of her thick black hair.

But was it enough to justify the killing of another student?

Because, for a split second, she'd wanted to.

Yet surely one second of intense, intense anger would not have caused this? Surely that was not the 'resolve' that her sensei spoke of? Normal teasing, even dishonest attacks, she was used to them. But he'd gone far past teasing. He'd pointed his zanpaktou at her, straight-armed, and spoken in his usually deep, serious voice.

"This session is for us to teach one another how to fight. I do not know how you could have manifested such a zanpaktou, but without it you would be quickly killed by your opponent. I have fought you before. You are weak. I do not believe you could manifest such a sword again.

"I will break your zanpaktou, Unohana Retsu."

Just the memory brought with it flash of rage and a deep desire to protect. Though it was pretty clear that Minatzuki had his own ideas about how to protect himself.

But nothing about Minatzuki looked . . . angry. Looked threatening. Besides his enormous size, and the fact that when he'd manifested he swallowed two shinigami whole, she wanted to climb up on his back and scratch it rather than run from him. The eye, reflecting disappointment, was gentle. That huge mouth was lined with stiff bristles rather than sharp teeth. The wings looked as though a powerful shinigami could remove them from his body with no more effort than taking an arm off a Hollow. It needed its two feet for standing, there was no way they'd stretch far enough out from the rest of its body to be used as a weapon.

There was no armor. There were no spikes. There was nothing but that gaping, huge mouth.

"Su-chan." It was very quiet, and to her right. She finally tore her eyes away from her zanpaktou and found them looking at the profile of Kyouraku Shunsui's face. He hadn't shaved in days, and his normally affable expression had shifted subtly to mild concern.

"Urahara Kisuke . . . ?"

She closed her eyes.

That was not the name of her opponent.

That was the name of the other man that had gotten caught up in that huge mouth.

It was just too big. He'd manifested in midair, flapping those great wings and crying out with a sound like she imagined the core of the planet might sigh. It was deep and mournful and beautiful. He'd descended, shaped those body-length lips into an "O" –

And with a very surprised look, Urahara Kisuke had disappeared in alongside Danzo Maru.

And considering how large Maru was, it was impressive that anything could have put him in its mouth, let alone swallow him in a single bite.

There was nothing that was unimpressive about her Minatzuki.

Maru had been right. She didn't deserve this zanpaktou.

"Cheer up, Su-chan. I don't think anyone can deny now that yours is the biggest."

Her eyes flew open to see him grinning disarmingly at her.

"Shunsui-san!"

But she didn't finish the reprimand. Not because his attitude and comments weren't completely inappropriate, but because she realized there was someone much more important to speak to, and scolding him would be just as inappropriate in her sensei's presence.

She could feel his reiatsu no matter where she was in the Court of Pure Souls, but never had she felt it to this extend. He was reaching out with it, probably to inspect her shikai.

She continued to be still, and faced her zanpaktou. Please, she willed at it, please return to your hilt.

Her stomach had dropped into a cold ball that felt as though it were slowly turning, over and over in a slow-motion fall. A cold sweat was collecting on her upper lip. The hand that gripped the hilt of her sword trembled with the effort she was putting into it. But still Minatzuki stood and watched her, and still that single eye showed gentle confusion and reproach.

It felt as though she were asking the impossible.

She needed to get him back into his sealed form, or he was going to eat someone else.

Like Yamamoto-sama, seeing as he was the next closest shinigami.

Their sensei had appeared before her without her quite knowing how he got there, an the bent old man now stood between her and Minatzuki, his ivory brows raised slightly to give his eyes a better view. He was regarding the one-eyed creature with something like a cross between gentle reprimand and appreciation. This was, at least, a good sign. And it was extremely doubtful, even as big as it was, that this shinigami could not easily defeat her shikai. He could burn it to ash if he wanted.

She felt that she would throw herself on this creature to prevent that. Her Minatzuki.

"Please, sensei!" she found herself crying, before she had even thought the words. "Please, I will seal it!"

The rest of her class was staring at Minatzuki as though they were looking at a Hollow.

Someone – probably Isshin, judging from the strength of the grip – put a hand on her shoulder. "Wow," he said seriously. "I know he teased you, Su-chan, but wasn't that a bit extreme?

If she wasn't so terrified that her shikai was about to be brutally shattered, she might have retorted.

Humor was Kurosaki Isshin's coping mechanism. He meant no insult. He was trying to deal with it himself. As it was, she was glad of the hand. Despite that fact that she had just finished off both a friend and another student, he still had the heart to speak to her.

Yamamoto-sama held up a hand, asking without speaking for silence, and the frightened chatter of the group far behind her died to the softest of murmurs. She bowed her head, remaining where she was as the two Fourth Division healers, apparently summoned at the same time, approached Yamamoto-taichou.

The founder of the Academy, Commander General of the Battle Squads, and Captain of the First Division, Yamamoto Genryuusai was the most imposing figure any of the shinigami had ever seen. Their first impression of him, on the first day of their acceptance to the Central Spirit Technique Institute, was that he was older than God. He carried a heavy wooden staff and his eyes were nearly closed from age. Yet when they opened, when he spoke . . .

He made a soul want to be better. Do more. Achieve greatness. He was a magnificent teacher, with more patience than his fire-based Zanpaktou would ever have indicated. He was a strong leader, commanding respect from the other six Captains and their instructors alike. He was a grandfather, taking students aside to express his pride in their achievements.

And he was a disciplinarian, who tolerated no injustice.

She felt his gaze on her head, but did not look up, and after a moment he turned to the healers. He didn't even have a chance to address them before one of them spoke.

"Fourth seat, Fourth division, reporting as ordered! We received word there was a sword-wound inflicted on student shinigami Danzo Maru!"

The second one was silent, mouth still gaping wide open in shock.

Yamamoto Genryuusai-taichou paused a moment, clearly in deep thought, and the same healer spoke again.

"General, sir, I cannot locate –"

"Student shinigami Unohana Retsu ate him with her zanpaktou," Shunsui supplied, in an oddly chipper voice.

She squeezed her eyes shut but held her tongue. It was not her turn to speak.

Please, Minatzuki. Please. Obey me.

"Your patient is inside this young woman's first release," her sensei confirmed, clearly and calmly.

The second healer choked.

"He was consumed whole. As you can see," he continued in the same gentle tone, "your services are no longer required."

Behind her, she heard the class break into murmurs. Only snippets carried to her ears on a light wind that had come up, the voices very soft for fear of being caught by sensei's still-sharp ears.

Be expelled for this. Huge. Shouldn't have been so serious. Dangerous.

"Please send for the Fourth Division taichou," Yamamoto-sama finished quietly, and he turned his attention to her.

As always when under his gaze, she fought the desire to kneel and bow her head. He emanated so much raw power, and she knew what she felt was not even a tiny representation of the strength he truly had. His eyes were already so old, and yet so warm, as though the fires that burned within his zanpaktou burned with a desire to teach, to help. That all that destructive force desperately wanted to create, rather than destroy.

She trusted him implicitly. If he deemed her unable to control her shikai at this time, he would seal it one way or the other, and she could not protest.

But that eye . . . could her Minatzuki feel the pain of a sword wound? How great it would have to be to destroy such a large beast!

"All of you, approach." His beard, confined by the leather strap that crisscrossed all the way down it, twitched as another light breeze blew through the courtyard.

There were sounds of dismay from the crowd behind her, but Isshin squeezed her left shoulder, and Shunsui glanced sideways at her, and she found her feet moving.

They stopped about ten paces before Yamamoto-san, Kurosaki Isshin immediately bowing and Shunsui murmuring some greeting, but she had no ears for them. As if spellbound, she walked past her sensei, past her instructor, across the few yards that separated her from Minatzuki. The eye twinkled at her, and as she had been aching to do, she reached up and touched the creature.

Perhaps Minatzuki was simply looking for appreciation?

He was warm and soft, firm and not unlike the skin of a peach. His flesh would be easy to rend with a sword, and even at her light touch the muscles beneath that skin relaxed in enjoyment. A very peculiar sound came from somewhere deep within the huge thing, deep and melodic and wonderful.

It elicited more gasps from behind.

Please, she implored mentally. Please.

He just wriggled slightly under her touch as one might expect of a pet. A pet about half the size of the training courtyard. What he did not do was vanish back into his sheath.

Unohana gasped involuntarily as she realized Yamamoto-sama was standing just beside her.

"How did you summon this?" It was a dry question, in much the same tone he would use to ask the incantation for the kidou number 36. It was his teaching voice.

Of course. There was a great lesson to be learned here, even amidst this tragedy.

She turned to him, bowing low. "I called his name, sensei."

"Only his name? Nothing else?"

She remained bent at the waist. "Hai."

"And what was that?"

She swallowed hard. "M-Minatzuki, sensei."

He nodded thoughtfully, then turned back towards the class. His hand on her arm very lightly guided her back to where her two classmates stood, showing their solidarity for her. They were endangering themselves, supporting a student that killed two others with an uncontrolled release of shikai, and she opened her mouth to ask them to join the rest of the class when a student in the front of the gathering, Jyuushiro caught her eye and shook his head.

Was sensei angrier than he appeared? Was she was going to be expelled from the Academy?

"Kurosaki Isshin."

"Hai, sensei." For once, his voice was serious, as though the reality of what had been done to his friend was sinking through.

Unohana fought off the sudden urge to burst into tears, closing her eyes again. If she could not dissuade him, she didn't want to dishonor him with her eyes.

"Did you witness the moments before this shikai was released?"

"Hai, sensei."

"Describe them for us."

There was a pause, and despite herself she glanced up at him. He was scratching his dark beard, eyes thoughtful. "Maru was being a jackass," he began slowly, "and had threatened to break Su-chan's zanpaktou when they started sparring." He glanced at Shunsui, who was wearing his usual friendly, blank look, and frowned. "Then I had to look away because this clown can't just stick to one zanpaktou, and when I glanced again I saw Su-chan make a pretty good slash across Maru's left arm."

She'd actually sliced it upward most of its length, though she'd managed to pull the blow before she took out the tendons of his elbow. She had never struck out in anger, with intent to injure before, and had misjudged the length of Minatzuki a bit, so that she'd cut him to the bone without really intending more than a superficial slice. The large splash of blood her wound had caused still glistened dully on the broken stone where Minatzuki now stood.

But she'd spilled that blood. Not him. At least not as he was now.

"He sliced her face in retaliation, and then she called out the name of her zanpaktou." He held his hand out in front of him, flat, and then she watched him slip from at least semi-respectful to his normal self. "Then her sword disintegrated into dust, which flew up –" and he demonstrated, with an enthusiastic whooshing sound and accompanying gesture, "gave an earth-cracking shriek, and dived at the one that had tried to ruin her beauty! Its speed was far too great, and in one swoop-" and this was accompanied by a full-body demonstration that ended at Yamamoto-taichou's feet "it had consumed her opponent."

"And Kisuke-san," Shunsui noted drily.

"That's right. Urahara couldn't pay attention because he had just been on the receiving end of my special Dark Fists of Justice!"

Unohana wondered, sometimes, what had happened to that man to make him so bizarre. But it was true that Kisuke had been far too dazed by whatever Isshin had done to move himself in time. He'd been cradling his right arm, and had enough time to look up in astonishment before he had been completely consumed.

It had just been an unlucky coincidence that he had fallen so near Maru.

She was also shocked that anyone else had heard the exchange between them prior to the beginning of the match. Particularly that it had been Isshin.

He was going to tease her relentlessly about this. If she wasn't expelled or charged.

"Unohana-san."

She yanked her head up, ashamed to have been caught in her own thoughts.

"How do you feel? You look unwell."

She stared at her sensei, unsure of how to say that her churning stomach was worsening as the full reality of what she had inadvertently done set in. That she was just starting to realize all of the mistakes she had made, endangering herself, her opponent, every student in the courtyard. That she couldn't even remember the word Minatzuki had told her that had released him in the first place.

All she remembered saying was his name. And you couldn't suddenly command a first release with only the name of a zanpaktou. At least, a student wasn't capable of doing that. It took decades of training to accomplish release without incantation. None of the students around her, already familiar with their shikais, had accomplished anything close.

"I am not hurt, sensei," she managed.

He gave her a measuring look, then turned his face a bit more to the group.

The courtyard was usually green and soft, with large squares covered in white stonework to mark each ring. Combatants were expected to remain within those squares to the best of their ability, to avoid exactly the kind of thing that had happened – a shikai or zanpaktou out of the control of its shinigami. Enormous, broad white walls rose up around it about fifteen feet into the air, their color and stature marking the area as a practice arena. It was one of many, and not the largest by far. A little bit of dust was being kicked up, it swirled between the forest of white and crimson kimonos that made up her class. A lone cypress tree stood in the far corner, shedding leaves one at a time to be dispersed around the enormous, enclosed space.

Minatzuki had formed inside of the courtyard to the left, far enough in that he hadn't even touched the wall. Barely. That left a little over half the remaining space for the class, which meant there wasn't a single student, no matter how far they hung back, that could not clearly hear the general and primary captain.

"When do most shinigami first hear the name of their zanpaktou?"

She wasn't certain if the question was meant for her to answer, or someone else. In the end, a rather shy, dark-haired shinigami named Koatsi Yumu responded.

"When their resolve is highest, sensei."

The old shinigami's eyes closed as he nodded, his scarred, bald head catching the sunlight. "This is so."

He turned to face Unohana squarely. "Tell us, then – what was your resolve? What were your thoughts in the moments before your zanpaktou spoke?"

She dropped her eyes from his, letting them flicker across all the faces looking at her. The front line of them, including Ukitake Jyuushiro, no longer looked alarmed. This was possibly because Minatzuki hadn't really done more than repeat his call and occasionally blink. And most of them were her friends, people that respected her. Some of them jokingly called her "Mother" for her habit of trying to help them with everything from homework to minor cuts and bruises. A few gave her wan smiles, though Ukitake's was wide and encouraging.

In fact, he almost looked relieved.

But the two dozen shinigami behind them were still looking fearfully, and not only at Minatzuki.

They were looking at her.

She chose to look back at Sensei. He was trying to teach her, and she was allowing her own worry to distract her.

"I was . . . I was thinking that Maru was going to try to break Minatzuki, sensei." she finally replied. It was truth. But it wasn't all truth. "A-And so I wished to injure him, to show him the range of my zanpaktou to keep him back. But when I struck him – I did not mean to wound him so seriously." And she had certainly never meant for Urahara Kisuke to have been caught up in the mess, the only attention she'd paid him was to spot him and eye his arm with concern.

And even now, it was as though she could feel an echo of what her friend's reiatsu used to be.

"Did you feel anger, or concern for this?"

It was a hard question. She was still angry with Maru. If he were alive and standing before her she would continue the fight with a snarl on her face, she would make him fear her power so that she could protect her zanpaktou. She could dissuade him from pursuing his goal. But she would not deeply wound him, even if the Fourth Division healers were on the training grounds to take care of any wounds.

"I was concerned," she answered softly. "I cut him quite deeply."

"You called only the name of your zanpaktou. Most shinigami must also perform a short incantation, usually a word of command. How many shinigami can you name that can also release their zanpaktous using only their name?"

She thought for a moment before breaking eye contact and shaking her head. She could think of no one off-hand, though she was certain all the captains could do it. He turned then to face the class. Here there was a light rippling among the crowd, and Yamamoto-sama scanned his students for a volunteer without success.

"I suggest time in the library," he reprimanded lightly.

And then it was clear that he was speaking to her alone again, though he hadn't moved. "Your Minatzuki has always been a relatively large sword," her sensei continued. "Are you so surprised that your shikai should also reflect your high spirit pressure?"

She stared at him.

The breeze swept through again, playing with the hem of his kimono, and she realized that it wasn't being caused by his reiatsu.

It was being caused by hers.

When had she released it . . .? Hastily she clamped down on her spirit pressure, her eyes downcast once more.

How many more mistakes must she make in front of this esteemed leader? Minatzuki still did not speak to her, still did not return to his sheath.

The general nodded. "Well done, Unohana-san."

"I am grateful, sensei."

"Now, Unohana-san, I must ask that you return Kisuke Urahara and Danzo Maru to us."

She blanched. How on earth . . . but they would need to be buried. After a moment, she swallowed and nodded.

He indicated the patiently waiting Minatzuki, and she licked her lips before turning to face her zanpaktou. A blur to her left indicated another soul had arrived. The fourth division taichou.

As though there'd be anything he could do.

Minatzuki seemed pleased that her attention had returned to him, and he took one devastatingly heavy step forward. She didn't flinch, and reached up a hand to pet his upper lip. It twitched appreciatively.

He was so big, she could probably fit the entire class on his back. Had he not done what he had done, she might have used him to move the younger students back and forth between classes for practice. Now they would be far too frightened.

She wondered when she'd get a chance to release him again. Or the special circumstances that would have to be put into place to make it safe for everyone.

"I am sorry, Minatzuki," she started, very softly. She wasn't sure she wanted the entire class to hear her first conversation with her zanpaktou. She wasn't sure she was really supposed to be having one. Everyone knew that zanpaktous were alive, but no one else's shikai actually blinked at them and fluttered a . . . a wing.

A tail. Minatzuki had a tail, too.

"I will do better next time," she added. "I will keep this from happening again."

Minatzuki made what seemed like an impatient noise, and Unohana swallowed another wave of nervous nausea.

"You really ought to do this sooner than later, Su-chan," Shunsui called sweetly. "I really think they're about done."

She whirled around to stare at him, smiling easily with relaxed arms. Behind him, she could have sworn Jyuushiro had also just straightened his face from a grin. Could he mean –

Was there a chance, even wounded and encased in her shikai, that both were still alive? Was that why sensei had summoned the fourth division taichou?

"Give them back to us, Minatzuki," she said, with a great deal more authority than she had expected. It wasn't angry, or even hard. It was very polite. It just sounded as though she really expected it to happen.

And, before her disbelieving eyes, Minatzuki made an odd face, gathered his mouth up into an O shape, and vomited out two vastly different bodies. A little flood of fluid followed them, and the white kimono-covered bodies landed face-first on the ground.

At the same time, her nausea dissipated into nothing.

There was a collection of shouts behind her, but she ignored them, rushing to her fellow, now slime-coated, students. The thick liquid that covered them did not seem tinged with blood, and she hesitated only a second before reaching out to gently turn Urahara.

She thought the fluid would burn, but it simply felt warm and slippery. Kisuke's hair was matted with it, his eyes were closed, and he still unconsciously held his injured arm to his body.

But there wasn't a mark on him.

And, to her astonishment, he suddenly gasped.

Beside him, Danzo Maru twitched slightly, then rolled himself over.

She helped Kisuke to sit up, still staring at Maru in shock. His left arm was extended above his head, and it was whole and intact. Not only was the wound gone, but his reiatsu felt fine. As though nothing had happened. His eyes slitted as he took in his surroundings, and then, upon seeing her, he frowned deeply.

"Did you mean to drown us?" he ground out, then hacked up a rather large amount of fluid.

The captain of the fourth division brushed by her, waving a dark hand over Kisuke's face before shooting Unohana a very curious look. Maru coughed a few more times, his expression one of deep disgust.

"And one more thing, Unohana-san," came the ancient voice behind her.

Still slightly staring, she turned back to her sensei.

There was no doubt about it now.

He was smiling.

Behind him, Shunsui wasn't bothering to hide a shout of laughter, and Jyuushiro was grinning from ear to ear.

They'd known. They'd known the entire time.

That echo of reiatsu hadn't been an echo at all. It was what someone else's soul felt like when it was inside her shikai.

Her shikai had healing properties.

"Minatzuki's work is done," Yamamoto said seriously. "While you and he have much to discuss, I think for now, you had best let him rest."

But she couldn't. She'd only asked him half a dozen times to return-

But they'd been inside him. She couldn't condense their souls back into her sheath, or she'd have merged their souls with her zanpaktou.

. . . could she do that?

She held out the sheath Minatzuki normally resided in, and without a word of command he obediently turned into mist, flooding back inside his sheath until only a slight steam rose from it. The weight and feel was exactly the same as before.

He was resealed.

And she had not spoken.

Yamamoto-sama nodded again. "Do you understand now?"

She blinked up at him, then mutely shook her head.

"Your resolve rests with your desire to protect," he told her quietly. "You have avoided fighting as long as you've been a student in this academy, while all the students around you have embraced it. You wish to heal rather than harm. That is reflected in your shikai. But you cannot protect simply by healing those that are wounded. You must also take harmful action to protect them when necessary."

She nodded, bowing her head deeply.

"I believe that will be reflected in your bankai, when you master Minatzuki."

Her eyes flew open in shock. Bankai?

He smiled. "You need not master that today, Unohana-san."

He stepped back, to speak with the Fourth Division captain, and his absence revealed Urahara Kisuke, still sitting in a pool of stomach fluid with Ukitake and Kyouraku crouched on either side of him.

"I had this weird dream," he was telling them, "that Isshin punched me."

"That wasn't a dream," Ukitake murmured.

"And then Unohana-chan released her zanpaktou."

"Also real."

"And it turned into a giant, flying monster."

"Hai."

"And then it ate me."

"Yes."

"And then it digested me."

"It healed you," Jyuushiro corrected. "Did it hurt?"

"Nope. But there was this horrible, evil monster that lived in the stomach."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Looked just like a really sticky Maru."

Unohana walked towards them, preparing her apology.

"Oi, Su-chan," Kisuke called, waving a hand. A splattering of Minatzuki's healing fluid flew through the air to land on the back of Yamamoto-sama's haori. She stared, horrified, but he didn't seem to notice. Kisuke, for his part, didn't even slow down.

"Can your zanpaktou make some more of this stuff?"

She blinked at the unexpected question. "I suppose so."

"Great." He got to his feet, waving his arm experimentally in the air. "Can you make it eat me again, or do I need to break something else first?"

Shunsui rolled his eyes, his curly brown hair falling into them. "Let me guess. You have an idea."

"I was thinking while I was in there, if you could condense this stuff into pill form, you could probably make a neat little product-"

"With a neat little profit, eh, Kisuke?"

"I'd share it with Su-chan . . ."

They all looked at her, waiting for her response, and she couldn't help but smile. The rest of the class was still milling around, shooting her frightened looks, but these three – and Kurosaki Isshin, who she could hear berating the sulking Maru – were staring at her exactly like they would have an hour ago.

"No," she said, in the most dignified manner she could manage.

"But think of all the good it could do-"

"Then why would we sell it?" she asked with a quirked eyebrow.

Kisuke looked deeply taken aback, and Jyuushiro barked a laugh.

"Oi, wounding him without even using your zanpaktou. So cold."

"She's a changed woman, our Su-chan," Shunsui agreed sadly.

She took a deep breath, looking up at the sky, wondering at the joyful feeling that surrounded her. Compliments from Yamamoto-sensei, words from her Minatzuki, respect from her peers. Her fear flitted away as she touched the hilt of her zanpaktou, and thought she heard the echo of Minatzuki's call.

"Hey. Su-chan?"

She glanced down, then flinched back, but it was too late. Urahara had reached out and smeared a fingerful of the fluid on her cheek.

"Su-chan's going to graduate with us," Ukitake noted, not without pride in his voice.

"And with that shikai, probably make fukataichou before us."

The prickling sensation of the cut was quickly fading, and Kisuke gave her a disarming smile.

Fin

Author's notes: Total fluff. I know. It's very hard to make these funny, so I think I'll stop trying. Who knew honest fear just isn't funny? Maybe I'll write another series called "Amused." )

The next chapter was requested by dragonzair and will be significantly darker like the first chapters. Thank you all again for such kind feedback!