Thank you for reviews! They are fascinating. I love it when people have actual opinions about what's going on!

Another quiet chapter -- lotsa introspection and such. Once again, I beg your patience -- violence is being brewed out back.

Oh! And obi means belt.

Not mine.

Chapter 5

Glimmer

"Ken-chan!"

Almost immediately after the meeting broke up (she saw Strawberry and Monkey-chan and Whitey and Pinky leave), Yachiru rocketed into the room. It had been boring playing by herself, and these days she tended to cling pretty closely to her guardian. She had already jumped on his shoulders and seized two of his hair spikes before she took stock of the situation. It was, she thought, kinda tense in here.

Kurotchiki was the only one still sitting, his black fingers fidgeting endlessly. Matsumoto looked stricken. Hisagi and Kira were helping Byakuya and Kommamura to their feet. Supporting the two injured Captains (Kira staggered under Kommamura's weight), the juniors bowed, and made their way out to the fourth division headquarters.

Unohana remained standing in the middle of the room, her hands on Hitsugaya's shoulders, her eyes never leaving the general's. "Be careful, Yamamoto-soutaichou," she said quietly. "The heart is like a mirror. We take the form of that which we examine too closely."

"Do not preach to me, Unohana," the old man snapped, looking tired and angry at the same time. "I don't need my subordinates questioning my decisions. This is war," his ancient brows came together, "and war is nothing but a justified means to an end. If the end is not victory, no action -- not even self-defense -- can be justified."

The medical shinigami raised one eyebrow. "In other words, the only thing more evil than waging a war," she inquired, "is losing one?"

"Precisely."

Unohana shook her head. "I am not speaking of a lost war," she said gravely, "but of a lost soul. There are lines that cannot be crossed safely, even with the best intentions. If you lie down with monsters, Commander, you will become one."

"Are you speaking of me, madam?" Kurotchiki's white face turned uglier than usual. "I, a monster? I???" he was almost screaming, spittle flying from his black lips. "I have saved more lives than you have, healer!"

Without warning, Hitsugaya pushed himself free of Unohana, brushing her hand aside. His face was pale. "We're all monsters," he said shortly. Without another word or glance, he walked out of the great hall. Matsumoto, exchanging a worried glance with Unohana, followed after him.

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"Yah!" said Yachiru, jumping to the floor and sticking out her tongue at Hitsugaya's retreating figure. "You gonna let dumb-butt call you names, Ken-chan?"

Zaraki looked down at his surrogate daughter, seeming to come out of some personal trance. "You understand what Unohana's sayin', Yachiru?"

"Sure! Scary-guy's creepy, and Aizen's creepy, and even Gramps is kinda creepy. And Snowball's dumb," she added for good measure. "But I knew all that already. It don't really matter, does it?" She gazed up at Zaraki, astonished by his unusual melancholy. "You an' me, we ain't creepy. And we're gonna keep fighting, cuz it's fun, and we'll win, cuz we're the good guys! Right?"

Zaraki stared for a while at the marble tiling, strangely unwilling to meet either Unohana's or Yachiru's eyes. His zanpukuto sang a mournful half-tune in the back of his mind. He thought of all the men he'd killed, whose names he hadn't bothered to remember. Men he'd attacked just because they'd looked strong. Corpses he'd walked away from, saying, damn, what a waste of #&$ time. Souls who had, for unfathomable reasons, wanted to live more than they'd wanted to fight.

This wasn't like him. This was pansy double-thinking. He shook his head to clear the weakness away. But Yachiru was still tugging at his sleeve, concern on her little face. "Right, Ken-chan? Right? Right?"

Unable to find an answer for her, Zaraki did what parents have done from the dawn of time. He lied. "Yeah, 'Chiru," he said heavily, "We're the good guys."

oooooooooooooooooo

"Inoue!" Rukia burst into the white cell, out of breath. "I think I've found ..." She stopped, unnerved. Inoue wasn't there.

It had been a year, and she had always been there. Unlike the arrancar, Inoue was not allowed freedom of movement in the Hueco Mundo. She stayed in her room. She healed those who were brought to her. And yet the chamber was empty, except for a single white couch, a ray of white light, and Inoue's lingering scent.

Rukia turned cold. She had gone looking for Hitsugaya today. How likely was it that they would take Inoue on that same day? Did they know? What had they done to her? Oh God, would it all be my fault...

Why would they take Inoue? She wondered, horrified. They needed her. Though -- Rukia shuddered -- Inoue had always steadfastly refused to do anything for Aizen except heal his soldiers. They had those horrible arrancar healers now.

Breathe, Rukia told herself. Be calm. Maybe Inoue's escaped. The girl was much smarter and more capable than most people realized. Maybe she had found a way to ... No, that couldn't be it. Inoue would never leave her behind.

She sank onto the couch cushions. Her heart was trying to beat its way out of her chest.


"Is there a problem, Kuchiki-san?" a gentle voice spoke behind her.

Her head snapped around, electric current sparking up her spine. "A...Aizen...Aizen-sama," she stuttered. The overlord of the Hueco Mundo stood against the far wall, just underneath the window. His face was as kindly, and as terrifying, as always. Rukia wondered how long he had been there, or if he were really there now. With a master of illusions, there was no way to know.

Once recovered from her shock, however, Rukia's worry overwhelmed her fear. "Where's Inoue?" she asked, standing. "...sir."

Aizen simply looked at her, his smile fixed. He held a scroll in one hand, which he played with for a while, turning it over and over in his fingers. Then he tucked it into his wide sash.

"Walk with me a moment, Kuchiki-san" he said.

oooooooooooooooooo

"You're dismissed, soldier."

The guard on prison duty opened his mouth to object, but quickly closed it again. This was a captain, after all. Hastily, the young shinigami shoved the keys forward, bowed deep, and took his leave.

Within the dark cell, the prisoner sat in a slender chair, back turned from the entryway. She did not turn at the newcomer's entry. Instead her eyes turned up to a large round window above her, which was crisscrossed with the same elegant geometric lines as the back of her chair. Moonlight spilled in through that window, creating a puddle of brightness around the still figure. "Well," she said, "this is nostalgic."

Renji approached the cell. "Yo," he said gruffly. He tucked the key into his obi and wondered, again, what he was doing here. What did he hope to achieve? Ichigo, he guessed, was still listening to one of Ukitake's lectures. As for himself, Kyouraku had released him almost as soon as they were out of the Commander's sight. He had come straight here.

"Did you want something, Abarai-taichou?" Rukia asked, looking over her shoulder. Her voice was playful, and he knew the game.

"You got a problem with me being a taichou?"

She smiled at her old friend. His heart wasn't really in it, she decided. "You have funny eyebrows, taichou," she teased. "What kind of freak tattoos his eyebrows?"

Renji couldn't answer without betraying any emotion, so he didn't try. Instead he leaned one the wall facing her cell, arms crossed, one leg propped up against it. The cell before him was a study in clear lines and stark contrasts. Rukia's black hair gleaming in the moonlight. The hole in her chest against her spotless white robes. Her shadow cast on the cold marble floor. All the same, the scene blurred a little in Renji's vision. He lifted a hand to wipe his eyes, grateful for the cover of darkness.

"Ne, Renji," Rukia said suddenly, "how old were you when you died?"

Caught off balance by the question, the shinigami lowered his leg and stared. "I dunno," he said, awkwardly. "Two or three, I suppose. I don't remember."

Rukia turned towards him. He could see the bracelet around her right wrist, a handcuff to hold back her spiritual power. "What do you think you did?"

"... what?"

"What crime did you commit," she asked steadily, "in your two years of life, that you deserved to be sent to district 78?"

She rested one hand on the back of the chair, and gazed at him. Even hidden in the shadow, Renji felt as if she could see into his soul. "I was abandoned by my sister," she continued, relentless. "That's no one's fault but hers. You, on the other hand... Soul Society just dumped you, alone, in one of the worst districts of the Rukongai. You remember, Renji? Scavenging for food, stealing water. Beaten half to death by thugs whenever they could catch you."

Renji had in fact made every effort, over the years, to forget all that. "What's your point?" he growled.

She lifted one short eyebrow. "You never resented it? The fact that shinigami are so busy murdering hollows, they don't pay any attention to the human souls entrusted to their care. They can't be bothered with kindness, or even with justice." Her hand gripped the chair, hard. "Soul Society was responsible for you and me ... and for all of our friends."

A brief vision of children's gravestones crossed Renji's mind, and he looked away. "I suppose Aizen will do better?" he asked, a bad taste in his mouth.

"He could hardly do worse."

This time the redhead was able to summon his characteristic anger. Pushing off against the wall, he kicked the bars hard, making an ugly clang. "I would rather be a stray dog," he snarled, "than a hollow."

"Oh, come on." She gave a crooked half-smile. "It's not that bad."

Calming himself as well as he could, the shinigami captain shoved his hands into his obi. He was from the streets. He could be tough. "I haven't come here to discuss politics," he said curtly, "or to listen to Hueco Mundo propaganda."

"Ah!" Rukia clapped her hands in front of her chest, mockingly. "A social visit! A chance to gossip and catch up!" She sat backwards on the chair, propped her elbows on the back, and cupped her face in her hands. "So... you and Matsumoto, huh? Wouldn't have seen that coming."

He ignored her. Frantically, he groped for some legitimate reason to be here, to have dismissed the jailer, to be talking to her alone. "Tell me about the others," he said finally. He didn't have to say who 'the others' were.

Rukia regarded him for a long time, thoughtfully. Then she pulled one leg around so that she was sitting sideways, her hands gripping the seat on either side of her body. Her voice became low and steady again. "Chad died as you saw him die. There was no illusion."

Renji felt an unexpected wave of relief wash over him. He didn't know what to do with the emotion, so he said nothing. Rukia seemed to understand. "He fell protecting his friends," she said, "as he would have wanted. Chad was a rarity -- a genuinely good person."

He was that, Renji thought. He hadn't known Yasutora well -- the guy hardly ever spoke -- but they had trained together for weeks under Urahara's shoten. Fighting a person almost inevitably reveals a part of their character. Chad had felt no resentment in losing, or pride in winning. He had taken no joy in the game. He had simply wanted to get stronger so that he could help the people he loved. Renji wondered, fleetingly, what Chad had thought of him. Then he turned his attention back to the cell.

"If you had asked me yesterday to list the truly good people I've known," he said sadly, "I would have told you about an old childhood friend of mine."

She did not answer him. Renji put one hand around a bar and bowed his head, steeling himself. "I might also have mentioned this dumb kid we met once. Inoue Orihime."

Rukia stood. She stepped out of the pool of moonlight and moved a few steps closer to the bars. Her voice was dreamy and distant, almost as if she had not heard him. "Do you know what Hitsugaya's purpose was, in the Hueco Mundo? Do you know why they used him? He was almost powerless, after all."

Renji leaned closer, trying to read her expression in the shadows. He didn't like where this was going. "Zaraki has a theory," he said slowly. "He thinks Hitsugaya could only beat those who hesitated. They," he swallowed, "... you ... were under orders not to kill him. Anyone who was too afraid of Aizen to fight full-tilt ..."

" ... would be killed." Rukia finished the sentence for him. "Yes, he's quite right."

Her voice dropped. "But there are lots of reasons to hesitate. An arrancar has feelings, you know. Emotions. For the hollow-born, those emotions are unfamiliar and frightening -- human weaknesses that they will go to any lengths to hide. All the same, some arrancar will hold back when fighting a helpless little soul like Hitsu-chan. Out of compassion. Out of pity."

His forehead pressed against the bars, Renji felt his stomach do a slow, nauseated turn. "So Aizen used him to ... weed out the soft ones?"

"Those who hesitated out of kindness still hesitated, and Hitsugaya still killed them."

Rukia approached and laid her left hand on Renji's clenched fist. "I don't think you recognize the dragon's true strength," she said softly. "That which allowed him -- which forced him to survive, when every moment he must have longed for death. It is the fact that, deep down, he is absolutely and utterly ruthless."

Renji took several long, controlled breaths. "What does this have to do with Inoue?" he asked finally, dreading the answer.

"Well, you know her," Rukia looked away. "She was kind. And she hesitated."

A long moment passed. With her head turned, the moonlight caught Rukia's face again. Her eyes held a depth of rage and bitterness that Renji had never seen before.

"I don't believe you," he whispered.

Rukia laughed at that, a sad good-natured chuckle that sounded more like her old self. "Ah, Renji," she sighed. "You're as sentimental as ever."

With that she lifted her right hand. Too late, Renji realized that the lock on her restraint had been broken or picked. Nothing was holding back her reiatsu. Block, he told himself stupidly. Protect yourself. But no incantation would form in his dazed mind; his arms wouldn't move. Before he could even push himself back, a white flash filled the prison chamber, and he crumpled senseless to the ground.

Rukia put one hand to a hip and sighed. "And you still suck at kidou," she murmured.

ooooooooooooooooooo

So, yes, a little slow. I was going for tense :)