Winter's Sons
Summary: When a body turns up at the Eastern Wall, run through with a zanpakuto and a sword of ice, all evidence points to Hitsugaya Toshiro. But this is only the first in a string of killings. With Central Forty-Six having issued an order for his execution, Hitsugaya must work against time to clear his name and find a killer strong enough to take on a captain. The past is never dead…
II. DEEP SHADOWS
The squads assembled shortly after sunrise. Hitsugaya ducked into his quarters to splash water on his face, and to change into his best shihakusho. It took him a few moments to find a neatly folded haori, and he pulled that on, straightening out the folds in the light cloth as best as he could.
He'd spent the previous night polishing Hyorinmaru with a clean cloth and a little oil. Now, he drew the blade once more, making sure all was in order before he sheathed his zanpakuto. The sword went into its blued sheath, and then the shoulder baldric went on and Hyorinmaru slid into in his customary position against Hitsugaya's right shoulder.
He was out of his quarters a few moments later. There was no sign of Matsumoto. He sighed, and crossed the corridor to her quarters, rapping on the closed door. "In a moment, Taicho!" he heard her call out in response.
"Matsumoto, you're going to be late!"
"One moment!" This time, she sounded breathless, and a little frazzled. He left her be, satisfied that she was getting ready, and headed out to the courtyard outside the main barracks, where the squads were assembling.
"Hitsugaya-taicho!" That was Sone, snapping to attention as he arrived. "First, second, third, fifth, seventeenth and nineteenth squads are fully assembled and have passed inspection."
"Good," he said. "What about the rest?"
"Assembling, sir," Sone said. Beyond him, Hitsugaya could see squads arriving from the barracks, forming up in the courtyard. The seated officer commanding each squad walked up and down the serried ranks, pointing out where a shinigami had failed inspection, and sending them back to the barracks to fix whatever fault it was. Punishments, if any, were not going to be carried out on the spot today, not with the ceremony so soon. Hitsugaya was pleased to notice that there weren't many who failed inspection.
"Good work, Sone," he said quietly. "The same goes for the squads which assembled earlier."
He sensed it a moment before Matsumoto stepped out of a flash step, a hair's breadth behind him. "Good morning, Taicho," she said, cheerfully. "Don't you know better than to hurry a woman when she's changing into her clothes? I was naked, you know. That's hardly nice!"
He took a deep, steadying breath. Sone didn't even bother to hide his amusement. He was, incidentally, one of the few officers who would have been privy to something like this. "Sone," he said.
"Sir."
"What about the sixth squad?" He had surveyed the courtyard, but found no sign of them.
"Fish," Sone said, shortly. "Hitomi's taken them to the training yards, to yell at them a bit. There was a bit of an accident."
Fish. Hitsugaya almost wanted to groan. This was the morning of the transfer ceremony and they still hadn't gotten their act together? "What happened?"
"Kido accident," Sone explained, with a wry shrug. "Apparently, a new recruit was convinced they could use a modified Shakkaho to…clean their shihakusho. Too many mud-splatters, and too little time. There's a big hole in the barracks roof."
"Was convinced?" Hitsugaya said sharply. "By who?" He already knew the answer even before he'd asked it. The older, more seasoned shinigami often played tricks on fish, making them do all sorts of silly things. Pranks, disguised as words of advice from a friendly veteran. He'd weathered his own share of such things in his own time. The appearance of callow youth had made him an especially tempting target, despite beginning with a comission as a seated officer in the Eighth.
"Iida," Sone said. Hitsugaya remembered that name. The man had two previous incidents on his disciplinary record; he was a joker who had a tendency to take things several steps too far. As it had gone this time.
"Put him on punishment duty for the next month," Hitsugaya ordered. He would be surprised if Hitomi hadn't beaten him to it. Seventh seat Hitomi Kaoru was small, with hair completely gone grey, and could beat any man in her squad bare-handed without her zanpakuto. She was also terribly strict, and very competent. Hitsugaya knew that many of the men called her 'Granny' behind her back, and that the label was in fact true. Hitomi Kaoru's grandsons were currently in their third year at the Academy, and he did wonder if he would one day be seeing them in the Tenth. She hadn't been his seventh seat for long: she'd been promoted from the eighth when Takezoe, the original seventh seat had filled the opening left by the death of their fifth seat during the war.
Takezoe Kokichiro. Another good man, Hitsugaya thought. Reliable, and utterly loyal. He looked for him, and found him inspecting the assembled fourth squad.
"Hitomi has him drawing half-pay for a month, sir. The rest will go to paying for the damages." As expected.
"Then they should coincide," Hitsugaya said, coldly. "This is not the first time Iida's had a disciplinary incident. The morning of the changing of the guard is not the time to be playing foolish pranks on the fish."
"I'll inform Hitomi, sir," Sone said. And then he added, "Doubtless she'll agree Iida's had it coming."
Hitsugaya nodded to Sone and the man left, flash-stepped in the direction of the training yard. Matsumoto was speaking to five of the seated officers. They acknowleded their orders and then headed back to their respective squads.
"Well?" he said, moving in behind her.
"Taicho!" she exclaimed, startling. "You shouldn't scare me like this." She motioned to her chest. "They have a tendency to jump out when startled!" He surveyed her. Matsumoto Rangiku was generally charming, if lazy. Today, she'd made an effort to tidy up her golden blonde hair, and had worn her shihakusho just a little higher. Not by much, he thought dryly, not if he was still confronted by that same view. Haineko hung by her side, the ordinarily dull sheath gleaming from a recent cleaning. Parade best, he'd ordered, and she'd done—mostly—that.
"Enough, Matsumoto," he said. "The others?"
"Seventh, eighth, tenth, eleventh, and fourteenth squads were reporting for duty," Matsumoto said.
"What is with the hold-up?" Hitsugaya muttered.
Mastumoto almost hid her smile. "They haven't had to do something like this in years," she said, just as quietly.
"Parades count," Hitsugaya retorted.
"Not as big," Matsumoto reminded him, and of course she was right. The changing of the guard was ostentatious enough to attract attention from much of the Seireitei, and if he were inclined to do so, Hitsugaya would have bet that most of the other Captains would have given their subordinates leave to come and watch.
And they would be in attendance, of course. The other Captains would drop by to watch, to laugh, and to be glad that they didn't have to do this until the next twenty five years, or however long it took.
Hitsugaya sighed, and wondered if he was suffering from the beginnings of a massive headache. At least Ichimaru wasn't a Captain any longer. One glance at Matsumoto and that minor relief died. Ichimaru and Matsumoto had been friends since childhood; for that alone, he had respected her friendship with Ichimaru and refused to put her in a position where she had to choose between them.
But he'd done that anyway, when fighting Ichimaru. And she'd chosen her loyalty to her Captain.
Sometimes, he thought, looking at the assembled squads, at Takezoe trudging towards them, no doubt reporting that his squad had passed inspection, at Matsumoto, and at Sone and Hitomi, leading the very much chastened sixth squad back from the training yard—sometimes, life gave you people you didn't deserve. Good people.
There were days when Hitsugaya didn't regret becoming the Captain of the Tenth Division. This was shaping up to be one of them.
As he'd suspected, the ceremony drew plenty of spectators. Hitsugaya recognised only the splashes of white; the Captains in their haoris, come to look and laugh. Some of the younger Lieutenants had come as well. He thought he recognised Lieutenant Kira's blond hair and Lieutenant Abarai's flame-red, even in the press of the crowd. And of course he recognised the flamboyant floral haori that Kyoraku wore. Their eyes met, and his former Captain tipped his straw hat to him; the hilts of Katen Kyokotsu were clearly visible. Stern Lieutenant Ise, Hitsugaya recognised only because she stood beside Kyoraku, and because she'd taken over the job he used to do.
In a way, he'd been nothing more than a placeholder.
They moved on, the squads marching down towards the Central Forty-Six compound. It took almost an entire day to gather the Divisions when a meeting was called; the Seireitei was that large. Now, they were to spend almost a day in a march around the Sereitei, as a matter of tradition.
Hitsugaya was certain that most of the shinigami in his division didn't like tradition very much at the moment.
A feeling of unease swept over him. He moved as though in a dream; as though some of the lingering traces of the previous night's dream had clung stubbornly to him. Faces in the crowd twisted, appeared and vanished, gave way to dead faces.
Hyorinmaru was silent, dreadfully silent.
And then a face, one he thought he recognised, too fleeting. Their eyes met, and there was a roaring in his ears. The world fell away and there it was, dark midnight blue-violet, deep and bruising and the sharp cold clarity of ice enfolded him.
There was a surge of reiatsu, he remembered as much. As clear as a winter bell; ringing in his ears, surging with half-remembered days of sunshine—
—fresh blood on dying grass, on a clear autumn's day
"Taicho!" Matsumoto hissed in his ear. White-knuckled he gripped Hyorinmaru's hilt, then realised he was doing it and let go of his zanpakuto. She blazed with concern; he could feel it written all over her reiatsu, he'd been out of sorts today, he thought.
"I'm fine," he said, out of the corner of his mouth. He straightened up, glad he'd still been walking, no matter where his attention had been. She refused to budge. "Get back to your position, Lieutenant Matsumoto."
Her eyes were pale grey, like the morning sea, like the sea swollen with stormwater as she said, "Yes, Captain Hitsugaya," and stalked back.
There had been no time to explain. The world flaked and fell apart, spiderwebbed with cracks like thin ice and then shattered. The squads continued on their ceremonial march to the Central Forty-Six compound.
What had he felt?
Hitsugaya set that aside for later, when he didn't have the eyes of most of the Gotei Thirteen and the Seireitei on him, and then forged on.
"Well, well," Kyoraku murmured, just loud enough that Ise Nanao could hear him. She glanced at him, eyebrows quirked in a silent question.
"I don't know," Kyoraku admitted, and that surprised her. He folded his arms across his chest, tucked his fan back somewhere in the voluminous folds of his pink floral haori. "It reminds me of something. Or someone."
She hadn't felt anything at all.
He took one glance at her expression and laughed. "Oh, don't worry, Nanao-chan," he said. "It's nothing to worry about. Enjoy the display that the Tenth Division is putting up for us, eh?"
Nanao reflected that Kyoraku never worried, and he had a habit of lying and he was terribly lazy. But even so, he glanced out to the side for a moment, a pensive expression on his face. He was, she thought, in addition to his list of faults, a superbly terrible liar.
The squads moved into position outside the Central Forty-Six compound, and then stood at attention as their commanding officers ordered them to a halt. The gathered squads of the Ninth Division awaited them in identical positions, right there.
Ordinarily, the lieutenants would accompany their captains to meet at the very centre of the square. The Ninth Division had no captain, and Hisagi was acting-Captain and so his third seat stood in his place as acting-Lieutenant. They met; Hitsugaya exchanged the set of formal bows with Hisagi, while Matsumoto and Hisagi's third seat stood at attention. He drew Hyorinmaru, watched the well-cared for steel flash brightly in the sunlight, and laid it lightly across his outstretched palms and then bowed again, presenting the zanpakuto to Hisagi.
Hisagi echoed his movements, drawing his own zanpakuto and laying it across his hands. They bowed to each other; then Hitsugaya made a fist, lightly, over his zanpakuto blade. Hyorinmaru's edge was sharp and true; he felt a light sting, and then in the next moment, blood began to drip through the fingers of his sword-hand. He sheathed Hyorinmaru with a flourish, Hisagi doing the same. He pressed his bloody, clenched fist to his heart.
Blood dripped to the stone below.
Hisagi nodded, and then made an about-face, a quick, graceful gesture. They moved into the structure of the Central Forty-Six then, Matsumoto and Hisagi's third seat remaining where they were.
They walked wordlessly down the corridors, down to the vault. This was the part that none of the onlookers were allowed to witness, but still, neither of them spoke, until they were at the doors of the vault. The first door loomed before them, the first of three. It was, Hitsugaya thought dryly, very much like becoming a Captain.
No Captain was allowed to speak of their investiture. Not the formal one, the one that anyone in the Gotei Thirteen and one of the four great noble families could attend. That was public, and to forbid a Captain to speak of it was pointless. No, the one that Captains were bound to silence on was the one given before the Captain-Commander, with two Captains to bear witness. Doubtless, Hisagi would know in his own time.
Hisagi's reiatsu burned now, the flash of verdant green bleeding back into the dim corridor. He cut his palm on his own zanpakuto, watched as the blood flowed, and then pressed his hand to the indentation in the door. There was an indentation on the right side of the door; Hitsugaya pressed his bleeding hand to that one, and marshalled his reiatsu. It burst forth, pale and the silvered faint-blue of creeping ice. "My left is the white poppy that grants oblivion," Hisagi muttered.
"My right hand bears the pale daffodil of night," Hitsugaya said, taking up the chant. A shared kido was always more difficult; they had to balance, to channel the flow of their reiatsu evenly, or the incantation would simply fizzle out or explode in their faces. Or something of that sort.
"Blood and iron, ivory tower upon the sea." Now, Hisagi was straining. This kido took a prodigious amount of reiatsu to be cast, almost captain-level, and Hitsugaya knew that Hisagi was almost there. Almost, but not yet.
"The stone king watches and laughs and suffers the stars."
"Howling demon of the south, my sword cuts the thousand-fold knots."
"The four guardians hold the centre," Hitsugaya whipped out Hyorinmaru and plunged the blade, tip-first, into the slot in the floor meant for the blade. The air around him burned with cold, a nimbus of frostbitten white formed around him, and then power was taken from him, drawn down along the blade into the incantation. He knew that on the opposite side of the door, Hisagi had done the same. "Bind!" he rapped out. At the same time, Hisagi had cried out, "Unbind!"
Their mingled reiatsu flared a cold aquamarine, more blue than green, really, and then the corridor went dark again. Hitsugaya was aware of his heart, beating a little faster than normal, and the harsh sound of his breathing. If this ritual had taken a good deal out of him, he could only imagine how tired Hisagi must be. Nevertheless, he removed his palm from the indentation, sheathed Hyorinmaru and tried to straighten up his posture. He gave Hisagi a moment, and then tried the door.
It slid open, at his touch, combined with his reiatsu. He walked down the corridor, past the second door, and then the third. He thought wryly that it was probably a good thing he didn't have to repeat the incantation a second and then a third time. It'd taken more out of him than he had expected, but perhaps this was the effect of so much sekkiseki nearby.
He'd sheathed Hyorinmaru bloody. Hitsugaya tried not to think how how much cleaning he was going to have to do after this was over.
The last door opened before him, and he strode into the vault itself. The carrying case was already there; they'd made the necessary preparations the day before. He picked up the polished wooden box, carefully opened it. There was a groove in the dark green silk lining of the box, specifically meant for the King's Seal. He lifted it from its place on the block of stone, and then slipped it into place in the carrying case.
The Seal snapped into place. The padding was supposed to protect it, though Hitsugaya wasn't about to put it to the test. He did up the clasps again, and then shifted his grip on the box so he was carrying it one-handed. He sealed the doors as he passed them, one after another. Hisagi waited in the corridor outside; he had not allowed himself to relax from a position of parade rest. Hitsugaya sealed the final door, listening to it grind shut with a sound that spoke of finality. Hisagi placed his palm against the indentation for a moment. Testing it.
The door no longer responded, even to his reiatsu.
Shifting his grip on the carrying case, so he was carrying it in both hands, Hitsugaya said, "Let's go."
Hisagi nodded, and gestured in the direction they'd come. He led the way out of the compound. Hitsugaya focused on the polished, rich wood of the box, the inlaid carvings. For a moment, in his mind, the long corridors were running with blood.
The rest of the ceremony went as planned. They emerged from the compound to the square outside, to the roar of anticipation from some of the rowdier elements of the crowd. They knew what was coming next.
Hitsugaya stopped right before the building; Hisagi walked on. He pivoted on his heel. Positions reversed, they now stood, facing each other. Matsumoto and Hisagi's third seat rejoined them. He handed the Seal in its carrying case to her, and then exchanged the series of formal bows with Hisagi.
He barked the order, and his squads shifted from parade rest to attention. The squads of the Ninth Division did the same, after Hisagi gave the command, and then formed lines. They drew swords for a moment, blades glittering in the sun, and held them upright in salute as the men of the Ninth streamed outwards, from their positions at the front of the Central Forty-Six compound, and into the plaza.
Only then did the shinigami of the Tenth Division, formation neat after days of drills in the training yards of the Division, take their places on guard right before the looming building of Central Forty-Six. They grounded the tips of their swords and stood; a variant of parade rest.
Now came the part that most people had come to see; the ceremonial release. Though those were mostly performed by Captains solely within affairs organised by the Gotei Thirteen, this was something that many within the Seireitei would not have had a chance to see. There were rumours, Hitsugaya knew. Always rumours. He drew Hyorinmaru from his sheath in a whisper-quick snap-draw, flicked the blade to the side, and then brought it up before him.
"Soten ni zase," he said, loudly enough for everyone in the area to hear, "Hyorinmaru!"
The gathering clouds darkened the sky, as the weather took a turn for the worse. The temperature of the surroundings had dropped, Hitsugaya knew, and while he'd never enjoyed the overdone pomp of these kinds of occasions, he also trusted to his hard-won control of Hyorinmaru's Tenso Jurin ability. While he'd argued against releasing Hyorinmaru lightly, tradition could not be fought, not in this case.
Ceremonial releases were different from combat. He brought his blade up, so that all could see the dragon of glacial ice winding around the zanpakuto. The dragon's movement sent little crystals of ice flaking off to the ground; Hitsugaya felt the bleeding of his hand slow to a trickle, and then nothing at all.
A quick impression, he thought. Keep it elegant. A flick of his zanpakuto blade sent the dragon arching up into the sky, and then plunging downwards, faster than an arrow, dissolving at the last moment into tiny flakes of ice.
He heard murmurs of appreciation; some were bending down to pick up the small pieces of ice as he sheathed Hyorinmaru again. Matsumoto gave the order to depart. A symbolic two squads would remain for the rest of the day, visibly on duty at the entrance to the Central Forty-Six compound. The rest of the squads would escort the King's Seal on its journey around Soul Society, ending, at sundown, at the Tenth Division barracks.
As his Lieutenant, Matsumoto would have to carry the Seal for most of the way. He could have exempted himself as Captain, now that his role in this was finished. They didn't need him with the others during the march itself, but this was one thing he would do nonetheless. Being a Captain, Hitsugaya thought, wasn't so much about leading and doing things your men were doing. It was about knowing when to join them, and when to keep your distance.
A leader who dirtied his hands too much became one of his men, and he was only too aware of his relative youth and his lack of height. He needed the respect that a carefully-maintained distance brought.
Still, in this, he was going to take his duties seriously.
He assumed his position at the head of the first squad as they filed out of the square, and onto the Seireitei's streets.
That evening, after the weary Tenth Division had filed back into the Division's assembly courtyard, Hitsugaya commended his men for the hard work they had put in, and gave them the next day off. The tired shouts of approval and happiness made the decision worth it. Then, with Matsumoto, they delivered the King's Seal into the high-security area of the division offices, and sealed it away with a rotating guard of two seated officers on the Seal.
Matsumoto hadn't asked him about what had happened earlier; she'd probably forgotten about it, in the exhausting march that had followed. And he knew she was tired; it was in her eyes, her posture, and how she didn't even talk about finding some friends to drink sake with. Hitsugaya himself was bone-weary, but forced himself to sit on his futon and clean Hyorinmaru properly. He also bandaged and cleaned the cut on his palm, attending to the wound as he had been taught to.
He'd barely folded and set his haori aside, before he fell asleep.
He was woken up after what felt like two hours later. His mind still fogged with sleep, Hitsugaya managed, "What is it?" He sat up, rubbing blearily at his eyes.
"Captain Hitsugaya," the shinigami said. It was Hisagi, accompanied by Kira. Hitsugaya managed as much dignity as he could in rumpled clothing, and mostly half-asleep with two shinigami lieutenants towering over him.
Something nagged him about the way they were standing. And then it struck him in the next moment, in a flash of insight.
They were unsettled, he realised. He didn't know them enough to tell much of their emotions in their reiatsu, but they were disturbed enough that it was leaking through, nonetheless. More importantly, it was the way they stood, close enough to defend each other, angled so that they wouldn't catch each other on the draw.
Carefully, and more awake now, Hitsugaya said, "What can I do for you, lieutenants?"
"You are requested to come with us and cooperate in an investigation," Hisagi finally said. His disquiet leaked through in his reiatsu, and in his eyes. His expression was otherwise grim.
"And what is the investigation about?" Hitsugaya asked, rising. He reached to throw on his haori and then made to take Hyorinmaru from his place on the weapons stand. With his back turned to them, he heard the rasp of a sword sliding from its sheath. "What is the meaning of this, Lieutenant?" he demanded.
"I am sorry, Hitsugaya-taicho," Kira said. "You are to surrender your zanpakuto."
"What?" he wasn't the only one who said it; someone else spoke at the same time. Her hair in a mess, and her shihakusho half-done, it was apparent Matsumoto had just been woken up. She stood in the doorway of his room, Haineko drawn and in her hand. The tip of the blade was pointing directly at Kira, who had drawn his own zanpakuto. Her eyes were a furious, stormy grey as she glared at both Kira and Hisagi. She continued, "What is going on here?"
Hisagi sighed, took a deep breath. "Kahei Ichiro was found dead in his rooms tonight. Pierced through by a sword of ice. The reiatsu matches Hitsugaya-taicho's. By my authority as acting-Captain of the Ninth Division, we are asking you to come with us to cooperate in the investigation."
Matsumoto's hand was at her mouth, barely hiding her shock. Hitsugaya drew in a long breath, felt as though that sword of ice was piercing his own heart. Kahei Ichiro was dead. He remembered the man, the headmaster of the Academy. Kahei had taken him in, albeit at the Captain-Commander's sponsorship. And Kahei had taught him; he'd been one of the few supporters a young boy from Rukongai who was too clever for his own good had, in a world of nobles and politics.
"Matsumoto," he said.
"No," she said, and now the tip of Haineko was pointed at him, almost like an accusation.
"Put away your zanpakuto," he said, his voice as cold and utterly uncompromising, like the ice he wielded. She hesitated. "That's an order, Lieutenant Matsumoto. I leave you in charge of the Tenth Division, and the transfer ceremony." His tone was brisk, routine even.
Deliberately, he picked up Hyorinmaru. He said, to Kira, "I will not go unarmed in the Seireitei. I am a Captain of Soul Society, and I will not surrender my zanpakuto until I am formally under arrest and suspended from my position." A very frosty smile. "You should know that, of course." However skilled, Kira and Hisagi were still lieutenants. They would know he might be exhausted, but they would not count on it. No less than actual, full Captains were sent to arrest Captains. Which meant that this wasn't an arrest.
He heard the sound of one sword slipping back into its sheath. Only then did Matsumoto sheath Haineko. "Taicho," Matsumoto said, and he knew she didn't understand. He slung Hyorinmaru over his shoulder, and secured the fastening clip.
"Allow me to talk to my subordinate," he said. "I have final orders to give." Kira glanced at Hisagi, who nodded.
"Make it quick," he said. "Hitsugaya-taicho. Matsumoto-fukutaicho." He moved out the door; Kira followed a moment later. They weren't bothering to hide their reiatsu as a courtesy. So Hitsugaya knew when they were at a polite distance. He turned to Matsumoto.
"Think, Matsumoto," he said quietly. "They're here because they're asking for my cooperation. Not arresting me. Kahei Ichiro was no longer an active member of the Gotei Thirteen when he died. The headmaster of the Academy is not directly affiliated with the Gotei Thirteen. And he was a noble. Central Forty-Six will not be happy about this."
"No one will be happy about this," Matsumoto said, and her tone made it clear she hadn't been, either. "It's a set-up, Taicho. I don't like this. And that makes it our jurisdiction."
"That's why I need to go with them. Central Forty-Six will take the case out of Gotei Thirteen hands. And…" he hesitated, trying to think of how to put his point across in a way that didn't speak of ugly treason. "Central Forty-Six," he said again. Quietly. Wondering if the name, the way he spoke it this time sufficed. "If not before a council of nobles. This will turn into politics. They're trying to shield me from the storm before it starts. By beginning a Gotei Thirteen in investigation, and asking me to cooperate with the investigation."
She nodded curtly. Matsumoto didn't have to like it, Hitsugaya thought, to appreciate it was necessary. That it was only the first move in the political firestorm that a single death had unleashed. Kahei Ichiro was—had been—he corrected, with a flicker of pain, the son of a moderately high-ranking noble family. It explained how he had come to his position of power as headmaster of the Academy. And the man had been talented, of course. He'd made many connections during his own time in the Gotei Thirteen.
Old mistakes, coming back to haunt them.
"But you are right," he conceded quietly. "This is our jurisdiction. I don't think you will be allowed to officially investigate this," he added. "Get Sone to help you run the Division."
"Of course, Taicho," she said, her tone implying that he should really stop trying to tell her how to do her job. Hitsugaya recognised that flicker of irritation, as well as the fact that it was not all directed at him, and stepped back gracefully.
"Then I leave you to it," he said. Headed for the door. She would need to weather the inevitable storm that would descend in the morning when word that the Captain of the Tenth Division had been taken in for questioning pertaining to a murder spread around the Seireitei.
"Taicho?"
"Hmm?"
"Be careful," she said. He didn't reply, didn't turn back, as he walked out the door, and into a wilderness of tigers.
A/N: It might be slightly obvious by now who the antagonist is. In any case, just to be rather by the book, I'll only acknowledge what this fic really is once the antagonist is properly revealed. This update is a little of an anomaly: I plan to update this fic on Tuesdays, and sometimes on Thursdays. This will be the schedule from now on. Consider this a bonus/freebie, if you will.