A/N: AHHHH, I gave in. Hey everybody! I don't even know if anybody's still watching this fic, but I got hit HARD with my Bleach feels at the beginning of April and have been working SO hard on getting updates to stuff. This and my other unfinished ones are first, but if my drive keeps up, hey, maybe there'll be new stuff! o3o

Also, I was gonna wait for GrimmIchi Day for this, but ahhhhh ^_^0 I couldn't wait. I was re-reading you guys' reviews and I just HAD to post at least one chapter. So, here you guys go! A double-length "I've got my mojo back" post for everybody!

Oh and just as a reminder, anybody who's over on Ao3, I'm Niji_Hitomi_Iscariot over there. Ja ne! *love for everybody*

"Has anybody seen Pineapple lately?" Chai asked, nearly a week later on his way into the dressing room from the floor. He'd been waiting tables tonight, so he was wearing the more conventional skinny jeans and painted-on style tee shirt that displayed the club's logo, and by all logic should have seen the quiet bouncer in his rounds.

Ichigo looked up from the text book in his lap, pulling his reading glasses off of his nose. "No, I haven't seen him since I've been back. Did he quit?"

"Mr. Candy Man said something about him needing to go out of town." Mocha supplied, spinning around his chair and crossing his legs at the knee. "It's why he hired Vanilla. To replace him."

"Oh." Chai looked disappointed.

Turning back to his homework, Ichigo shrugged, "Maybe he just had something he needed to do and he'll be back. You never know. I mean, most of the bouncers change regularly." He chewed on his pen, "Come to think of it he was the only one still here from when I was hired."

With his nose back in his books, Ichigo missed the knowing glance shared among the other dancers. Chai opened his mouth but Coconut shook his head. The berry boy couldn't know the truth. Not yet. The others weren't ready and didn't even know if the procedure would work. For now, while he was deaf and blind to who they really were, the people he'd come to know as his co-workers needed to keep up the charade that they were nothing more than they appeared. No matter how worried they were about one of their own who was off-grid without permission and behaving recklessly. More recklessly than normally at least. So, Chai subsided with an exasperated grunt as he flopped onto the other end of Ichigo's couch.

"Yeah, you're right, Strawberry. I'm sure he'll be back around before winter."

The orangette looked up again, confused, "Before winter?"

Mocha was quick to shoot Chai a look and answered hastily, "He just means because Pineapple's preference for motorcycles would make travel when it gets cold hard."

"Hmm." The former substitute shinigami grunted unconvinced, but he didn't push it, he had too many other things weighing on his mind to worry too hard over one bouncer who could obviously take care of himself.

For a short while they were all busy amongst themselves. Mocha was chatting softly with Coconut. Ichigo was concentrating on his geography report. Chai had his eyes closed, picking out guitar fingerings silently. And the rest were out in the club preparing to close up shop for the night. Just before the final curtain call, Mr. Candy Man himself appeared in the doorway. He watched his youngest dancer working for a bit. Taking in the shadows the berry though he was hiding under his eyes, and the way his collar bones were gaining prominence above the edge of his wide-necked tee-shirt. The older blond-haired man frowned. He needed to make a few phone calls and cash in a few favors before the vibrant orange-head faded any further. But for now...

"Oh Berry-tan!" He called spritely, adopting the demeanor of one half his apparent age and unburdened by life and death.

Ichigo smiled tiredly, folding his glasses away, "Need me for the final number, boss?"

"No, no, nothing like that." The flamboyant club owner crossed the room with a flourish, "I was merely hoping you had heard from your fetching Blue Raspberry lately. He was quite a hit taking my place last Saturday and those sorts of profits always look good, no matter where he came from with that delinquent look of his!"

The younger man's face fell and he breathed to steady himself, "I'm sorry, Mr. Candy Man, I haven't and I have to confess I don't particularly want to."

That was a bald-faced lie, but Ichigo couldn't bring himself to admit it even out loud in his own mind. The kiss the week before had re-awakened all of the reasons he'd been drawn to the former Arrancar from the beginning. And though the first half of his statement was true, he hadn't heard nor seen anything of Grimmjow since then, he did catch himself looking for him. Over the course of the week between classes and work he hadn't had the time or willpower to analyze why he was looking for the blunette, he only knew he was.

"That's a shame; I was hoping to get him on the payroll! It wouldn't be fair to utilize those gorgeous looks of his without compensation for it." The boss longed for the fan his other alter ego always carried for statements like that, but had to content himself with covering his mouth with his hand in a forced giggle.

Across town at that moment, the subject of their conversation had his head in his hands. He dug his fingers into his hair, pulling at the vibrant spikes. As soon as Isshin had explained what had killed his friend he'd done research; looked up the symptoms, the side effects, the risks, the treatments; all of it. He knew that if it was caught soon enough it was even possible to almost cure someone who'd been exposed to it. But there were stipulations, and rules, and conditions had to be perfect. And the number one concern was avoiding secondary infections. Should one of those set in, it had to be dealt with first, and even then, it was a losing battle if the patient didn't put all of their strength into avoiding further physical stress.

All of it added up to something that Grimmjow knew his kitten wouldn't do, no matter what the cost. He'd been hard enough on his body before losing his powers. Now that he had, he seemed to be Hell bent on punishing it for failing him. 'Workaholic' the others called him. It had caused an even greater rift between him and his classmates that only grew larger with each hollow the gifted humans took down. So expecting Ichigo to slow down for something as meaningless to him as his health… Grimmjow was better off asking the Quincy to stop hating the whole of Hueco Mundo. He'd get better results.

"You know, it isn't the death sentence it used to be, son. There have been significant breakthroughs in medicine since it was first discovered." The clinician said gently.

He was kind, with an open face that was ignorant to the blunette's real problems, but he meant well. He saw this sort of thing often and he was trying to be the same sort of supportive pillar for this patient that he was for all of the others, even if he couldn't truly understand what had the former Arrancar so upset.

"Yeah. Thanks." Grimmjow looked up, worry heavy in his eyes.

The older looking man put his hand on the feline's shoulder, his smile apologetic, but gentle, "We caught it early. There's a lot of hope in that." He squeezed the muscle in a manner that was supposed to be sympathetic. "Take care of yourself, son, and call me if that medicine gives you any trouble."

Then he left the other to his thoughts, and Grimmjow made his way out of the office in a daze. He'd gone there on a whim. He'd never expected to have it pan out as anything significant. He drew his hand down over his face, and his vision followed the motion to that slip of paper in his hand. In a sudden fit of rage he crushed it, hauled back and threw it across the street towards the empty lot like he would have thrown a cero so long ago. It came as no surprise to him when Pantera responded, lighting the prescription up in kido that turned it into a bomb, sending dirt and debris flying in all directions.

In the midst of people screaming and cowering, uncertain where the explosion had come from, Grimmjow dug his cellphone out of his pocket. He still gripped it too hard, but he managed to get the tiny thing to his ear just as it started ringing.

When the person on the other end of the line picked up, the blunette growled, "I need ta see ya. I've a favor I need ta ask."

There was little resistance, and he hung up quickly once he'd received the affirmative answer. He tossed the device on the passenger side seat to his Lancer as he climbed in behind the wheel. He looked at it, and the seat, and his expression hardened again. He needed to do this. He had to save the berry's life and he couldn't think of any other way to do it. The car jumped to life with a roar and he floored the pedal, speeding recklessly through the streets ignoring the police cars and rescue vehicles heading in the opposite direction. He was entirely focused on keeping his resolve hardened until he reached his destination; a grand hotel on the edge of his usual stomping ground owned by a man that he knew only by the codename 'Mr. Pink'.

His tires squealed as he drifted into a parking space and cut the engine. A big man with a sinus issue was waiting for him, sunglasses heavy on his face and dressed in the sort of suit one would expect from the mafia. He escorted Grimm through a side entrance to an elevator that required a keycard and a handprint to activate, but he didn't join the former Arrancar inside. They exchanged a look for a moment before the doors closed and the metal box sped off to the penthouse at the top of the building.

The suite was lavish when Grimmjow entered it. Crystals, gold embossing, plush velvet on the pillows, suede leather on the couches, a cut away in the thick carpet for him to take his shoes off, and every amenity that a man could dream of all housed in one place fit for a king. Crossing into the sitting room area, the feline gave a small whistle.

"Ya really know how to live it up, don'tcha."

The man, dressed quite casually in a fluffy pink robe with a young thing spread across his lap- as blond as he was- gave an insincere smile. "Naturally, Mr. Blue Raspberry. What is the point of amassing a fortune if you don't even enjoy what it can procure for you while you are still alive to enjoy it? I could squander all the money I can possibly imagine for the rest of my years and still have enough that my heir will never want for a thing in his life. Please, come in, make yourself comfortable. Help yourself...to anything," he added with a look at the pile of limbs and scanty outfits piled on the floor in front of the gaming system that dominated one wall of the penthouse.

There was a collection of girls and boys there, in every shape, size, and color, and those not occupied with the game itself were looking over their new houseguest with large grins and giggling among themselves. It wasn't often the master had surprise company, after all!

"Ya know I hate that nickname. Ura-That damn club owner and his stupid-but that ain't why I'm here." Grimmjow ignored them all. He had one thing in mind. "I need ya ta buy something. Specifically someone. A dancer from Candy Land. Think ya c'n do that fer me?"

The man straightened up and sat forward, his smile disappearing. His glasses came off. "...Run that by me again. With better details. Who do I need to buy, and why?"

The blunette scrubbed his hand over his face again and growled. "One of the Flavors. He needs ta cut his workload but he ain't listenin' ta reason. So I was thinkin' if you bought him, fer I dunno, a couple of months of private dances, and only had him do like two or three a week at most, he'd get the rest he needs and he wouldn't feel like he was slackin' off. It's fer his health, Pink. He can't keep doin' this."

The big blond leaned back, mouth tightening as he drummed his fingers on his knee. "...You know I don't buy people without seeing to their needs, Blue. And that one- I don't think I'd be allowed to buy him. About five people, including the other Flavors and you, warned me off him. With threats, in a couple cases."

In his lap, the younger man tried to sit up, his face dark and angry, but the large 'business' man's hand on his shoulders kept him down, though he growled. He didn't like threats to his master.

Pink crossed his hands at the wrist, as though he was physically bound by the unspoken restrictions, and sighed, "I have no problem with DOING it, mind. But if he won't let me pay for tests and care he needs..."

The word 'tests' made the former Arrancar go stiff.

"So ya... know...?" He hadn't thought he was being that obvious. A shadow came over his face and started pacing like the big cat he was internally. "I didn't know! I didn't think! She was... and then there was the... and ya just let it all happen, ya know? It just all piles up when ya ain't never had it before, and then the next thing ya know, yer wakin' up ta find yer crew's dyin' off, and ya know ya've fucked up! But there ain't nothin' I c'n do 'bout it. He won't listen, ya see. He just works and works and works, like I'm an itch he can't get rid of, but he looks at me, and I c'n see he needs me, but I fucked it all up. And now his life's in danger and it's all my fuckin' fault! Ow..."

Grimmjow gripped his shirt over the heart he was still getting used to and fell back onto the couch looking lost and more exposed than he ever had.

"It hurts, Pink. Why the fuck's it hurt?! It ain't s'posed ta hurt. It's s'posed ta be freedom and feelin' good fer once in my fuckin' life. Fuckin' shopkeeper never said it'd fuckin' hurt."

The man's face twisted with pity and he rose from his seat, the blond from his lap sliding into his own chair to let his boss come up to the blue-haired man and kneel down to his level.

"No-one ever warns you of the pain. I know it hurts. It has always hurt. We always hope the hurt won't come; that's why we don't warn newcomers. We hope they'll be lucky and have a life without this pain. But it comes to most of us, if not all. You did have fun and feel good- but there were consequences, and now has come time for those to bear fruit, I'm afraid." He brushed the blue hair out of his eyes in a comforting gesture. "I know because I've seen that look before, Blue. But I'm sorry it's happened to you. Sorrier it's happened to him."

"The doc said he could save 'im. He's just gotta take it easy while it's doin' its thing. But he won't. That's why ya gotta buy 'im. He needs somebody holdin' him back from killin' himself."

Grimmjow hunched over himself. This was worse than losing his Six, worse even than being an Adjuchas and seeing his fracciones falling further and further behind. He may have fucked up being partner to his kitten but he just couldn't sit back and watch the berry kill himself without doing everything he could to stop it.

The larger man nodded. "If Candy Man will let me, I'll buy him for the next three months, and make it a stipulation he doesn't dance for me often, but keeps me company instead, and lets me pay for him to get tested and care for him if he gets sick. It wouldn't be unusual for me- I keep most of my favorites close at hand for more than their bodies. I adore their company," he nodded to the gaggle spread around the apartment. "And where he works being...where he works it's not peculiar I'd want to get him tested, either. Just in case and all."

The feline Visored scrubbed his face again, especially where the bone mask used to be attached, as if he could rub away the emotions he never thought he'd ever feel. Then he stood up, clearing his throat and situating his clothes. "Yeah. Thanks. I'll, uh, I'll talk ta Ura-Candy Man. He might be able ta make Ich-Strawberry go without a fuss. Ya just..." He hesitated, balancing on his toes unconsciously, "Ya know what he's like. I know ya've tried ta buy 'im b'fore. And... I shouldn't've... I know ya'll be good ta 'im. Mebbe if I'd listened ta ya b'fore..."

"Don't," Pink said firmly, rising. "Maybes, would haves, and could haves do nothing but drive you mad. Don't go there. If you had listened to my tutorial on this kind of life, none of this might have happened. Safety measures can fail; for all we know this could have happened despite all precautions. Don't. And yes, I'll be good to him. But if you want to come visit sometime...feel free. Really. You're welcome here, Blue- you know you are. Anytime," he promised solemnly.

Grimmjow gave a self-depreciating laugh. "He won't want me 'round. But thanks, Pink."

Then he left. He had places to go and other people to see, namely the only real doc he trusted in this town to get a replacement for that paper he blew up. He knew Pink would take care of his berry. The orangette would have to slow down, maybe give the meds a chance to work. Maybe... maybe he wouldn't end up like Gemma had. Maybe it didn't have to be a red card. Maybe...

For the first time since before the blunette could remember, he wasn't thinking about himself first. It was a novel sensation, but he didn't even have the wherewithal to process it. He was running on instinct, as he always had. The difference was this was the first time he'd ever recognized another as his mate, though it only registered as a true connection in that part of his soul that was still sealed away with his Resurrection.

The man known as Mr. Pink sat back and sighed, picking up his favorite and holding him close in his lap as the pit of his gut ached.

"Master...was Mr. Blue sick?"

"He is, sweetie. He's very sick. He had the same look on his face as...my man did when he came to me and told me he'd come up positive. And he gave it to his man without knowing; because that's the look he had when he told me I needed to be tested too."

The little blond sat up. "Then Strawberry's got it? Then why-"

"Because Strawberry can't afford not to take it easy, but he hasn't got the funding not to work. I can fix that, and I will."

The boy subsided, mulling over how that would go over with Strawberry. He was betting not well.

"What do you mean 'he bought me'?! Boss, this isn't what we agreed on when you hired me!" Ichigo growled, storming across the dressing room. He was half-dressed, only in his booty shorts and over-the-knee boots. "I'm your best seller! You can't pull me off the main stage! We both need the tips I bring in!"

Mr. Candy Man smiled from behind his hand, resisting the urge to fan himself with it but only barely. "Oh ho ho, I know, but I'm afraid I was offered three times what you bring in on tips alone to contract your services for three months. The man is quite generous, dear Strawberry. Even his stipulations benefit you! He wants to test you, have you keep him company in his penthouse instead of merely dancing, AND if you should get sick in any way he wants rights to nurse you to health or pay for your care. He must have a caretaker kink. And he even promised to draw up a contract to make it legally binding- with the amount of money he is willing to pay for you, how could I have said no?"

"Yeah, and you know what he really means! I'm not a WHORE!" The orangette threw his arm out as if to smack someone, though no one was in range at the moment.

The others were all at the back of the dressing room, watching. They had been getting ready for the floor show, the first act of the night, when the club owner had appeared, as if out of nowhere, in the doorway with his proposition. Coconut was surly about it, frowning but not saying anything. Tutti Fruitti kept looking between him and Ichigo nervously, like she wanted to say something but knew better than to open her mouth. Mocha was physically sitting on Chai, who at the first mention of the idea had jumped up to try and defend the berry's honor. In that same regard, Licorice had his meaty hand over Vanilla's mouth, the bouncer flailing and shouting in spite of the restraint.

"And what does he mean 'tested'?! I'm fucking clean! I've never done drugs and the only person I ever had fucking sex with hasn't touched me in months! It's an insult just by itself, nevermind the reasons he has besides what he's fucking said!" Ichigo was furious. "You wouldn't do this to anyone else in your roster, why me?!"

"Because the offer is for you and you alone. And frankly, I know exactly what he wants, and he doesn't want a whore. He wants a companion. Why do you think he has such a flock of devotees? Because he's good to the people he likes, Strawberry. And the one he likes most in my club is you." Mr. Candy Man did not say he'd been asked to let the businessman do it as a favor, "And I assume he means tested. For a range of things. I heard he gave every one of his harem cancer screenings last month, and the month before that prostate exams and mammograms. He'd most likely take you to the hospital for a complete workup."

The former substitute shinigami was pacing, gesturing wildly with his whole upper torso, and frankly getting red in the face with a subtle hint of being winded. He rubbed his chest absently, concern flashing across his brow without him realizing it. "And what if... what if it's not what it seems? They say he's a drug dealer. They say..." He had to catch his breath, this wasn't good. This was how it started last time. He swallowed dryly, his anger draining to worry. "What if he just wants to...eh..." No, no, no, not the tickle, anything but the tickle. He shivered, wiped the sweat from his brow, "He... I gotta..." His words came out choked, "Gotta... He's just-"

He couldn't fight it anymore, all the pacing and heightened emotions and extra rehersals that he hadn't told anyone about caught up to his still healing lungs, and the berry bent over coughing wetly, his whole body seizing with the motions. Mocha was quick to jump up and hold him tight, rubbing his back and giving him something to hold on to that wasn't himself so he didn't strain the muscles between his ribs too badly. The dusky dancer gave Mr. Candy Man a hard look, accusing him of both causing the spasm and of not doing anything to prevent it from happening, while he shushed softly in Ichigo's ear.

The club owner stepped forward, producing an inhaler and concealing a needle as he bent to support him on his other side, expertly injecting the muscle relaxer and waiting for the coughs to subside a little before plugging the inhaler into his former student's mouth and demanding he inhale.

"You calm down. Don't stress yourself out any more than you already have. I know all the things they say about Pink, but I've known him a long time. He's good on his word. Every time. If he says he won't ask you for sex, then he won't ask you for sex. He'll let you negotiate," he explained as he made his youngest dancer inhale another dose, hoping to calm his worries and settle his mind enough that he stopped working himself up like this.

The fear in Ichigo's amber eyes didn't belong there. There was no way he could sense through their disguises, not consciously, but his instinct, that drive he'd always had to push past every barrier that had ever stood in his way, that knew he was safe with these people. It trusted them implicitly, and let him relax into their arms. As the medicines got to work, he shivered, a cold sweat ruining the make-up and glitter he'd so carefully applied earlier. It didn't matter anymore, of course, the boss wouldn't let him dance after an episode like that, and frankly, he was learning to not want to. He was drained, stumbling to the couch with their help. He curled up with his knees drawn up to his chin and shuddered, wanting different hands than the slender ones currently rubbing his back.

When he finally could breathe without risking coughing again, he nodded. "Fine. But... I wanna meet him... here. First."

Candy Man nodded. "He'll be fine with that, he told me. Do you want to meet him tomorrow?" 'Because I don't think you should see him after an episode like that' was unspoken, but clear from the worry just barely wrinkling his brow and the note in his voice.

Ichigo nodded again, and laid down at Mocha's insistence, turned towards the back of the couch. The way he was beating himself up was clear to all of them, and an uneasy air came over their reiatsu before Mocha, with all of the presence he used to control the Eleventh, gathered them up and forced all of them, including Mr. Candy Man, out of the dressing room. He kept them quiet until he had the door shut. There was a beat where they all held their breath, then the shinigami in disguise whirled on his 'boss' with all the fury a Fifth Seat of Kenpachi's division should have at a time like this.

"Tell me you and that washed up psuedo-human father of his are working on something!? This is not beautiful! He's destroying himself! I thought the whole reason we were doing this was so that he didn't do that!"

The blond shopkeeper held up his hands. "We are; we are! That's how we got what's in the inhaler. It's not a cure, but it'll cut down the muscle seizures and heal his lungs, at least a little bit. And that's also the reason I agreed to let Pink contract him at all, much less for such a long time...he promised me he'd make him rest." His expression was grim. "He also told me he was asked to do this. As a favor to someone we all know is worrying about him from afar."

"Ugh!" Vanilla swore from the back.

Chai ground his teeth, "I could kill that hollow." He was promptly smacked across the back of the head by Coconut, who stood a full head taller than the lanky guitar player. He winced, rubbing the spot, "Sorry, taicho."

"He means well. He has to. That's only way he could have gotten his heart back, remember what happened to the others." Licorice spoke softly, reverently in mimic of his own captain.

"Yeah, but it's his fault we're in this mess in the first place." Vanilla groused, with Mocha nodding off to the side.

Licorice closed his eyes, his expression clear that he missed his sunglasses, "If everyone was held in disgust for all of their mistakes without hope of forgiveness we would all be hollows."

Tutti Fruitti pounced Coconut from the scaffolding above where the stairs led up to the stage and huffed, "Mashiro is tired of hiding from Berry-tan!"

"Please..." The silver-haired man grunted absently, though he appeared physically unaffected by the girl crawling over his head and shaking her fist at Mr. Candy Man.

"Do you really think if he knew who we were he wouldn't hop town in a roar of sonido? He's not READY, Mashiro," Urahara snapped irritably, finally indulging in his guilty vice and producing a fan to hold in front of his face. "He's working himself to death because he refuses to turn to any of us for help of ANY kind. Do you not think, if we revealed ourselves, he wouldn't scream at us in a rage so fierce it would turn his own lungs inside out?"

He snapped the fan shut to gesture with it.

"Look, Pink… I've been making deals with that man for thirty years and he's never reneged on a deal. He doesn't break his word, that's just how he is. He's promised me he'll make Ichigo rest; make him lay around the apartment with him and use any excuse he has to, with only one or two dances a week to let him let off steam. The meds will help, but only if he rests enough to let them work, and Pink guarantees me that. I don't like the situation at all, but I'll do what I have to to make our boy better."

That seemed to mollify the group for a while, all of them displaying their discomfort with situation in different ways. Finally, Kensei reached up to bury his fingers in Mashiro's reiatsu-dyed hair, and asked, softly, "What of the cat?"

"Ichigo told him he didn't want him around, so he's keeping his distance. But he's keeping tabs on him, and he's worried. Pink told me that...when he came to see him to ask this favor, something seemed really wrong. That's why he agreed to the favor, no strings attached." He paused, looking down. "He said it reminded him of a man he knew who was afraid his lover was dying. He's worried about our berry. Very worried."

"That's all we can do then." Yumichika flipped his hair, his signature move that he tried very hard not to do when in front of Ichigo for the same reason Kisuke resisted his fan. "It would be an insult to his will if we tried to do anything else. Come then, we have a show to perform or Kurosaki-san will become suspicious. Madarame, inform Hitsugaya-taicho that we'll be skipping straight to Mashiro's opening number." Then he moved off with a switch of his hips that indicated he was done with the conversation.

Still not fully satisfied with the outcome of the discussion, the others followed him because the Fifth Seat was right. The show had to go on or everything they had done up to that point would have been for naught. No matter how troubled they were about the orange-haired young man, they couldn't let him onto them, because Urahara was right too. The former Visored would turn that infamous temper on them, and spurn them all for the next dangerous situation he could throw himself into, with little concern for the infection rapidly gaining ground within his body.

The sky overhead matched its owner's mood when he descended the ladder into his basement. He was withdrawn, worried, and uncharacteristically quiet. Now dressed in his normal attire, it was small comfort after a long day watching his former student. His mind was so distracted in fact that he didn't even register the hand on his shoulder until it landed and he jumped with Benehime in his grip at the ready before the other retired shinigami could blink.

"That bad, huh?" Isshin's eyes were wide, his hands up, palms out in surrender.

Kisuke sighed, re-sheathing his empress with a flourish, "He's not responding as well to the inhaler as we hoped."

The former captain of the Tenth frowned, his stance more relaxed but his expression darker. "I don't know what else we can try. It's that mix of reiatsu he carries. Masaki had the same trouble with antibiotics after the whole hollow thing, remember?"

"Which is why," the shopkeeper swung his cane up onto his shoulder, "we are going to Sereitei in the hopes that a transfusion will at least return his regenerative abilities that might just keep him alive."

In a flash of light the senkaimon opened, and their jigokuchou escorts appeared to carry them safely to the Court of Pure Souls through the dangai.

"It bothers me that this should be so vicious in him though. He was never a sick child. A few broken bones, cuts, bruises, the occasional sniffle, but he was always a fighter. Right down to the cellular level." Isshin groused. "Why is his body just giving up now!?"

"Well, we don't know that it wasn't his soul keeping him alive to begin with. Perhaps our dearly departed hollow had more to do with his body than we first thought, and it wasn't any act of mine that wakened the beast."

The brunette raised an eyebrow with the same inflection as his son.

Kisuke flipped his fan in front of his face in defense. "I simply mean that perhaps we shut the creature out before we truly understood what we were doing with it. They've certainly given the others added 'benefits' from living in their souls."

It seemed for a moment, as they exited into the Soul Society, that Isshin was going to be angry for the suggestion, but he met and locked eyes with the current captain of the Fifth, and sighed. "If it saves his life, I'll re-infect him myself if I have to."

Shinji Hirako gave his signature grin, clapping both men on the shoulder, "Mah, some serious discussion goin' on here. Should git ta my office before we worry th' natives more'n they already are, ne?"

Both former shinigami looked at him in confusion, their other senses tuned to pick up the nervous chatter flitting about between butterflies and squad members. Something had them all tense, and the word "Sixth" kept popping up. Kisuke and Isshin frowned, their attention re-focusing on their comrade.

"Haven't ya heard? Bya-bo's gotten re-married. But that ain't what's got'em all atwitter." Shinji said easily, as though they were discussing the weather. A silent prompt from the other two had him continuing, "Nah, it's Abarai-kun. He's up and disappeared, an' th' way I figure it…" He gave Kisuke a knowing looking, "if there's one person who'd know anythin' 'bout it, it'd be you."

The fan flipped out again to cover the shopkeeper's face. "I'm afraid I have to say I haven't the slightest idea where Freeloader-san has gotten himself off to. He hasn't shown up for work for nearly two months now, I'm afraid I've had to list him as fired."

His tone said apologetic and concerned, but his eyes held secrets for which neither of the others were willing to bargain. If Kisuke had helped Renji disappear, no one would find him again until the vibrant redhead wanted to be found, and both Shinji and Isshin knew personally how all too well the blond scientist was at hiding people who didn't want to be found. So, the captain of the Fifth subsided.

"Ah. Well, then, let's see about gettin' that reiatsu, yeah?"

A/N 2: Woops! Yumi's seat is now fixed. Thanks for pointing that out for me, Eva! ^_^0