An Education

by Crimson Bttrfly

As punishment for the attempted theft of a priceless piece of art, Hisana is required to complete her training at Shin'ō Academy, where she must navigate the treacherous machinations of nobles while hiding her connection to a certain heir…. (Sequel to The Darkest Black.)

9. Year Three: Autumn

Year Three: Autumn

The Eighth is empty when Hisana arrives for her daily couriering. The only missives to be sorted and delivered are internal ones. Her stomach shifts when she realizes this.

Maybe she's crazy—always a possibility—but it seems that any time the "in box" is mixed with the "outbox" and the "outbox" is empty, she's fucked. In fact, she can think of zero times when this happened and she didn't get some sort of parental-grade scolding from the captain.

Why does he care? her inner child groans as she crosses the hall to the captain's office.

Pulling up on the balls of her feet, Hisana creeps across the threshold of the office. She looks right. He's not lounging on the lumpy couch. She looks left. He's not dozing in the little sitting area with his feet kicked up on the table. Like a bear.

All clear?

She doesn't believe it.

She's not this lucky.

Hisana continues to creep forward, her heart fluttering in her chest. The closer she gets to his desk, the more she sinks down and draws into herself.

Without a hitch, she makes it to the desk. She sets the letters down and, immediately, winces. Her shoulders rise up to her jaw. She hunches forward a little. When no trap springs up around her, she straightens, inhales a deep breath, and begins her trek back to the door.

See. You're crazy. Nothing wrong. Nothing at al—

"Hisana!"

She jerks at the sound of her name coming from… in front of her.

"Captain!" she answers, feigning excitement. "What lovely weather we are having, no?"

He considers her with a look of great suspicion. "You seem in good spirits today."

She holds her smile. "Should I not be?"

Ignoring her question, the captain breezes into the office like he owns the place. "I'm glad I caught you."

"Oh, you are?"

Imagine that.

He goes to his desk and peels a file off the top. "Yep. Pretty interesting, this."

"What's that?" she asks, breath tangling in her throat.

Good news never comes in pale manila folders.

"I have an assignment for you." With a flick of the wrist, he tips the file in her direction.

Hisana swallows hard. "What kind of assignment?" She doesn't actually want to know; she's just making idle conversation while she crosses back over to the desk.

"An easy one. It'll get you out of class for tomorrow." He says the last part like it's a selling point.

"Do I get paid?" she asks, taking the file from him.

"Sure. I can give you an unseated officer's daily rate."

"Unseated!" she protests. "What do they make? Five raspberries and a paperclip?"

He chuckles. "It's 500 kan an hour."

"What?" She cocks a brow. "The shop sweepers around here make more than that."

"It's easy work."

She'll be the judge of that. Flipping the file open, there is a short memo summarizing the assignment. It's barely five lines long. "Is this real?"

"Yeah. Got sent my way from the Second."

"The memo says nothing about the Second."

"The memos, you'll come to find, are mostly trash."

"So, how do you know about the Second?"

He grins. "I'm a people person, what can I say?"

Hisana chuckles to herself. "You gave me this because it's in the Southern Twenty-Fifth."

"Not a lot of folks know about that place."

"The Barrel?" Her brows pop up. "I imagine not." It's a hellhole.

"You know the Barrel?"

"Yeah. I lived there." Hisana has a sneaking suspicion that the captain is well aware of this fact. "I didn't have the funds or connections to live above the Plate." She turns the memo page over to find an out-of-date map and nothing else. "That's it?"

The captain smirks, eyes gleaming with mischief.

"I'm not a people person," says Hisana drily.

"The Second gave up after one of their men's cover got blown, and then the next two guys never turned up after going down there."

"The Barrel doesn't take kindly to shinigami informants." Hisana hands the folder back. "The passcode mentioned in the memo, how old is it?"

The captain glances the file over. "Probably two weeks."

"Bad intel, then," she says confidently. Probably explains why at least one of the Second's men didn't live through the mission.

"Is that right?" The captain cuts her a knowing glance.

"The gangs change the passwords at least every three days. You turn up with an old one, you better have a good reason." Hisana folds her arms across her chest. She doesn't like this, not one bit.

"Did you belong to a gang, Miss Hisana?"

"Me? No, I belonged to a salon," she teases.

He laughs. "Will you do it?"

"No," she answers flatly. "Sounds dangerous, and too many people know me there."

"Dangerous?" he mocks. "The mission is to confirm the presence of an illicit fighting ring."

"A hollow fighting ring!" she protests. "Pretty sure that if I got found out, I'd be hollow bait."

"You don't have a connection who could tell you?"

Hisana frowns and snorts. "1,000 kan an hour."

The captain hands the file and a wooden badge to her. "Deal."

She glances down at the wooden badge. Carved into the middle of the wood are the words "Student Shinigami" along with the Eighth's insignia, the bird of paradise flower.

Great, evidence.

She's going to have to ditch this badge the minute she gets outside the city.

"When do I start?"

"It takes about a day to get to the Twenty-Fifth. So, you should set out early tomorrow morning."

"What sort of proof do I need to get?"

"Eyes on it. If you can get hold of any books or documents, those would be helpful."

Hisana shakes her head. "That will cost you extra."

He laughs. "Fine. You get me something worth extra, and I'll pay for it."

"Pay what?" enters a voice that sounds ready for a fight.

Hisana whips her head to the side to find the lieutenant standing in the door, hugging a rather large tome against her chest. "Lieutenant Ise," she greets politely.

"What's in the folder?" asks the lieutenant.

"Would you believe evidence of Hisana's and my torrid affair?" asks the captain.

"Can't you feel our passion, Lieutenant?" deadpans Hisana.

The lieutenant reaches out, hand palm-side up. "Give me."

Hisana glances hesitantly over at the captain, but she relents and gives the file over. As she does so, the student badge slips down the chain and dangles noticeably from Hisana's hand.

The lieutenant frowns at the sight of it. "Captain Kyōraku, you aren't suggesting sending a student out alone to Ryuuboku. What's the objective?"

"It's a dead-drop," says the captain neutrally.

Hisana gapes. The hell it is.

Lieutenant Ise takes one look at Hisana and shakes her head. "Well, if it's just a simple dead-drop, then there should be no problem with me accompanying her."

The captain bristles. "Come now, Nanao. Such a mission is beneath your talents."

"I've got nothing better to do. Plus, it's good to stretch my legs and mentor the new generation."

"It's not a dead-drop, Lieutenant Ise," says Hisana.

The lieutenant opens the file and glances over the memo. "I knew it."

"Hisana's got this. It's nothing to concern yourself with, Nanao."

"I'm just laying eyes on a potential fighting ring," says Hisana.

"Is this that hollow fighting ring that took out five of the Second's men?"

"Five!" cries Hisana, who immediately sets her gaze to stun mode when she turns to the captain.

"I heard three," protests the captain sheepishly, holding his hands up.

"This is definitely not the sort of mission you send a Third-Year Academy Student on solo, Captain," Lieutenant Ise chastises.

"Hisana has connections in the city, which isn't a luxury anyone else in our squad has," the captain argues. "She's perfectly suited to this mission."

"Well, I'm going with her. She needs supervision," Nanao counters.

When the captain opens his mouth to protest, the lieutenant issues him a withering stare. "It's against protocol."

"What protocol?" both Hisana and the captain ask in unison.

Nanao plunks her book down on the captain's desk and turns to a page deep in the text. "Here!" she says, finger pointed at a section halfway down the page. "Section 42 S.S.R. 960.122 states that 'student shinigami must be directly supervised on all official Gotei 13 missions by a seated officer.' 'Direct supervision' is defined as 'within a 20-mile vicinity or the same building.' We can't afford another fine, Captain."

"We can't?" murmurs the captain.

"She walks around with a rule book?" asks Hisana under her breath.

"No. We cannot afford another fine. We have maxed out our budget this year on legal expenses and settlements."

"If you say so," he says quietly. "Alright. Well, if we are doing this officially—"

"Wait. You didn't even get form SSRSA 960.122, Student Authorization for Shinigami Workload approved prior to assigning this to Hisana?"

"Nanao," the captain smiles stiffly at the lieutenant and places his hands on her shoulders, "you know I've never heard of that form."

"I'll fill it out and send along the Emergency Expedited Form and fee so that we aren't delayed." Nanao heaves a long breath. "Hisana, we can meet here at 0500 hours."

Hisana nods. "Yes, Lieutenant."

"Make sure you bring something comfortable to wear since we will be traveling quickly, extra waraji, water, a change of clothes, and your student badge and student ID," adds Nanao.

Hisana nods again and gives a low bow. "Good night, Lieutenant." She then frowns at the captain. "Night, Captain."

---

Hisana meets Byakuya at the bridge that night, and they begin their way to the estate. The moment that Hisana steps foot on Kuchiki soil, she grinds to a halt. The autumn chill has mixed with her nerves and is now rattling her bones and icing her blood.

She's got to tell him.

Byakuya will worry, she thinks. She'd worry if he didn't tell her.

Then, there's the additional complication….

She hates to think it. Hates even to see it. But, it's there. It's still there. Even now. Right now. As he looks at her. She's tried to tell herself that she's crazy, that everything is fine and normal and nothing bad has ever happened between them.

Time cures all. So on and so forth. Etcetera.

But….

All it takes is a stray look, and her heart squeezes hard. As much as she tries to overlook it, deny it, tell herself that she's being overly sensitive, it's there, that look of hurt in his eyes. It's a subtle fleeting emotion, but that's because he's good at masking it.

Masking an emotion, however, does not remove it.

Hisana hates that he looks at her like that, like she's something to prick himself on if he's not careful. Worse yet, it's not because of anything she's done. It's what has already been done to him by others. Mostly faceless others.

So, she has to tell him that she's not going to see him for a few days. Otherwise, he's going to draw the wrong conclusion and mistake her absence for abandonment and indifference. Convincing him that this is not the case over the last few months feels a lot like dragging a horse to slaughter by its forelock.

It's gotten better, but the hurt is still there when his mask slips. That hurt tells her to tread lightly and to be mindful, neither of which are things that she's particularly good at doing.

She's never been very delicate.

"Hisana?" Byakuya's voice barely reaches her through the din clanging away in her head.

When it does, the impact shakes loose a blundering, "I'm leaving."

He stares at her, expression going blank.

"I mean to say," she begins after a moment of floundering, "I'm leaving on an assignment."

His brows knit, and he blinks as if she has lapsed into a foreign tongue. "An assignment?" he repeats the last word like he's hearing it for the first time.

Hisana closes the distance between them. "For the Academy," she says before adding, "sort of."

"Sort of?" He looks so lost suddenly. "I don't understand."

Of course, he doesn't understand. Byakuya is rational, and this is anything but.

Hisana reaches up to touch his face. "I've been asked to go to the Rukon to help gather information."

Byakuya holds her hand to his cheek, but it's his gaze that tethers her in place. Even in the dark, in the night, his eyes shine like glimmering agate, and her heart stirs in her chest. This is another look of his that she hates. She hates it when he looks at her like she's something. She'd rather not think too deeply about herself or what value she might hold to anyone.

"How long will you be gone?" he asks.

"One or two days. The assignment isn't that involved."

"Is it commonplace to send Academy students away on assignments like this?"

No.

She resists the urge to laugh.

Sometimes Class One gets to go on assignment, but it's always as a class, always the whole group. Sometimes Fifth and Sixth Years are pulled into missions, but it's only the top tier of those classes, and it's only very rarely.

He knows this.

"I think Captain Kyōraku is making use of my prior experience in Rukongai," she digresses.

"So, this assignment is under the jurisdiction of the Eighth?" he asks. Despite the measured tone, his disapproval feels apparent.

"Yes," she says. "This is Lieutenant Ise's mission."

Byakuya tips his head back. "Lieutenant Ise?" His stare becomes distant. "I see."

"What do you see, my lord?"

"The lieutenant doesn't have a functional zanp—" he catches himself before he can say more.

This is likely not his story to tell. It's probably not a story that was told to him with any authority, either. Hisana doesn't think Byakuya is particularly close with the lieutenant, and the captain seems fond of keeping his secrets that way.

"I do, though," she says, mostly to ward away the silence that threatens to encase them.

"You do." Byakuya kisses her hand. There is a somberness in his touch, one that she feels too deeply. "Why did you never—" he again stops himself. Words half-spoken hang between them, but, like before, there's enough to fuel a guess.

"Probably because I told you that I sold the damn thing." Hisana means this to be a joke to lighten the mood.

It doesn't.

Byakuya lets out a long breath. "And why did you lie about that?" he sounds scolding.

She lowers her head, pausing to collect her thoughts. "I didn't have it on me for a while, then I didn't want you to know that I had one." This is partly true.

"Where was it?"

"Under the care of another. I didn't think it would be appropriate to bring a zanpakutō to your house while I was a maid." Half true.

"Under the care of the Shiba, was it?"

Hisana snorts. Oh, that lie. She had almost forgotten it. "Yes."

"Is that why you left the estate that night with Kaien?"

Sure.

Why not?

"Yes," she lies.

Now, it's his turn to glance away. "Is that another lie, you being a maid to House Shiba?"

Hisana bites her lip. Oh, how she hates that their connection is deep enough that he can discern her internal shifts. This is going to be a problem. Maybe not now. But, soon. All he's asking for, at the moment, is the reason why she lied about her zanpakutō.

She can give him that much.

"No, not about the Shiba," she starts with the lie that she cannot undo without risking all the other lies that she needs him to believe. "But, I was lying about my reasons for telling you that I sold my zanpakutō that night at the dojo."

Byakuya lifts his head at this. His skin feels warm against her hand, and she swears she senses his pulse quicken through their connection.

Hisana isn't a very practiced truth-teller so she hesitates, heart writhing in her chest, before starting. "I lied to you because I was afraid you were getting too close to me. I wanted to shake you away, and that was the most despicable thing I could think of to say at the time."

It's still one of the more despicable lies that she has told about herself.

"Didn't seem to work, though," she adds as if its ineffectiveness as a lie somehow makes it better.

"I knew it was a lie."

She drops her head and smirks. Of course, he did. Even if there was no way for him to truly know. He didn't want to believe her capable of such an act.

"I wasn't lying when I said that I want to see your release," he says quietly.

Her smirk lengthens into a smile. "It's not really anything remarkable." This is also true.

When he kisses her palm again, Hisana feels the tug to capitulate, but, she can't.

"Also, it's not like I can leave the city to do it."

What with her needing approval and all.

Carrying her zanpakutō zipped up in a bag and remembering all the approved routes for traveling through the city with a weapon in tow is enough of a pain in the ass. And, it's not like Byakuya can come to the Academy and watch her at one of the training fields approved for shikai releases. And it's not like she's mentioned being able to do such a thing to any of the masters or instructors at the Academy even if he could. And it's not like admitting this ability wasn't harrowing at the party.

Fortunately, no one seemed to believe her or cared.

She doesn't think that would be the case if she manifested proof of this ability. She thinks it would put her on a list of students to pester and "test," which is the last thing she wants.

"The Sixth has a designated training field near the property line a little ways away," he suggests casually.

Too casually.

It's as if he has been plotting to seize this opportunity for a while.

Hisana grins up at him. "I don't think that's a good idea. The moment I do that then…."

They'll know.

When a shinigami unleashes their shikai, it's hard not to notice, even when they're on a training field with dampeners. The release often feels like a thunderclap from a storm directly overhead. It rattles you, your bones, your very essence, and its reverberations continue for a long time after.

"No one knows," he deduces. Then, his brows knit, and his jaw tightens as realization seemingly hits. "No one knows except Kyōraku. That's why he selected you for this assignment, isn't it?"

"Maybe." Hisana shrugs. "I think it has more to do with my connections in Rukongai."

"Those connections being?"

She bites her lip again, trying hard not to wince. "Not auspicious ones."

Criminals.

She means criminals.

Byakuya lifts a brow and frowns. "I could—"

She cuts him off with a quick, "No. It's nothing, Lord Byakuya. Just a simple dead-drop." Her voice is surprisingly calm and steady despite lying through her teeth. "There's nothing to worry about."

Keeping her hand in his, they continue down the path. Byakuya looks less than convinced, but he doesn't push the issue. Briefly, Hisana considers whether he will make a complaint to Captain Kyōraku. She could see him doing such a thing on the grounds of protocol, especially since the captain is well aware of their affinity for one another.

Speaking of affinities.

Hisana glances sidelong at Byakuya. She presses her lips together. She wants to ask him about the captain and the lieutenant, but she's trying to find a way to do so without it sounding too captious.

Byakuya catches her watching him and raises his head as if to urge her to continue.

"What's the captain's relationship to the lieutenant?" she asks, her eyes tracing the edges of their shadows spanning the ground before them.

She thinks Captain Kyōraku and Lieutenant Ise are related but distantly. Maybe cousins. The captain seems particularly protective of her even if he is inappropriate at times. Hisana thinks his inappropriateness is a feign, a sleight of hand. Captain Kyōraku seems fond of these sleights.

"Ise is Kyōraku's niece," says Byakuya quietly.

Hisana cocks her head at this. She was close. "His brother's or sister's child?"

"Brother."

Byakuya doesn't say it, but Hisana feels it nonetheless. There is a sense of loss lurking in the heavy pause that follows, one that suggests that this brother is no longer alive, not here at least. She won't press it. Byakuya probably doesn't feel like a credible enough source to opine on much else concerning the relationship between the captain and the lieutenant.

Well, that doesn't seem great, she thinks to herself. It certainly complicates things if this assignment goes awry.

Hisana hates complications.

"Where are you going for this mission?" asks Byakuya.

She chuckles at him. "Not in ten thousand years would I tell you, my lord," she teases. "But nice try."

"I wouldn't interfere," he protests.

Now, he's lying.

"But, it would be helpful to know for later, for when we inevitably gather to convene the search party," he adds, sardonically.

"Har, har," mocks Hisana as they step up to the engawa outside his quarters. "It's not dangerous, see." She squeezes his hand. "The captain wouldn't send his beloved niece to her death."

Never mind the part where Captain Kyōraku protested loudly the idea of the lieutenant joining this mission.

Details.

Byakuya only needs to know about this at a high level.

They stare at each other until time feels both meaningless and yet terribly demanding. Hisana should go, but it feels good lingering in the same air, especially since there is no intended lurking in the darkened halls beyond the manor's façade or impatient guards who have been handed down a schedule to be followed under threat of death.

The lack of prying eyes and expectations suddenly feels like freedom. And freedom suddenly feels treacherous.

Oh, the terrible mistakes they could make left to their own devices.

Feeling his grip on her hand tighten, she draws nearer, tips her head back, and throws him her best alluring glance. A corner of his mouth curves up into a crooked grin, and he dips his head down. Just as anticipation shifts to expectation, he stops frustratingly short of kissing her.

The bastard.

She leans forward to catch his lips with her own, but he pulls away, pulling the tension between them tauter. So taut, that she feels it physically, reminding her that they are spiritual beings first and must remember to be corporeal bodies. The tension in her body is only an echo of how he grips her reiatsu, deepening their connection.

She lets him have her feelings, unable to hold back, and he relents, kissing her hard and fast then soft and sweet. When he breaks away, she realizes he is holding her, one hand with fingers splayed against her spine, and the other buried deep in her hair.

"Tea?" he asks.

She is so tempted to say "yes." Her body flushes with heat at the thought, and her stomach feels floaty like she has just been dropped from a great height. She considers it, cupping the side of his face in one hand.

Byakuya leans into the warmth of her palm and kisses the joint of her thumb. His gray eyes shine wet, reflecting the silvery threads of starlight. Something in his gaze moves her, moves her deeply.

But….

Hisana can't.

Fear shackles her, forcing her to reach for an excuse. "It's late," she says, voice creaky. "I should get to bed. I have to wake up early for the assignment."

"There's a bed in my room," he whispers, breath hot against the shell of her ear.

Her eyes fall closed, and she stands bracing against the kick of her heart against her ribs. The thudding echo of its beat shakes her, but she can't. Even if that's what the aching tells her to do. Even if it feels so nice to be here, with him, sharing his gravity, forcing that gravity to shift and change with her own.

"Are you trying to seduce me?" she asks the moment his lips brush her neck.

"Is it working?" he murmurs between kisses.

Yes.

Not that she would ever tell him that. But, he already knows. He is so latched to her that he must sense her own desire; she certainly feels his through their connection. It is a roiling, overwhelming force, endless and wild like the ocean in a storm.

His kisses press harder, and his hand slides from her back to the knots of her hakama. He rolls the fabric of one of the ties between his fingers, betraying his intentions. She can almost taste his impatience when she kisses him, her fingers twining in his hair.

He's gotten a lot smoother over the years, she'll give him that much. He's less obvious with his touches, less demanding. There's more persuasion, less argumentation; it's more of a nudge toward the edge of this cliff, a taking by inches, by degree, not by fiat.

When she hears the sliding of wood, she grins and her eyes blink open. She needs to be able to see in order to resist the sweet call that she knows comes next. This call comes dressed in the scents of tea and cherry blossoms, the scents that she closely associates with his rooms.

She can almost feel the warmth just beyond the threshold like a flame flickering in the back of her mind. This, too, calls to her, a welcome respite from the biting autumn winds.

"Come inside," he says, voice low, ragged and full of grit. "It's cold."

"The tea?" she teases, fingers pulling none too kindly through his raven locks.

"The tea is warm," he answers without a shred of irony.

"What's the cultivar, my lord?" she asks, grinning against his neck before kissing him there. She thinks this question cuts the threads of his thoughts because his pulse goes quiet against her tongue.

"Saemidori," he teases back, which draws her laughter.

Of course, he would take her question literally.

As much as it stings her, she breaks away, keeping one hand on his shoulder and another against his neck. She could yank him close or hold him back, two options that her mind weighs and measures before deciding that she can't.

Sharing this final piece of herself with him feels dangerous. The drop of this particular cliff is too far, the seas below too devouring, and the rocks too sharp. The fall alone might kill her.

Kill her dead.

And yet….

"Not tonight," she breathes, pressing her forehead to his. "A night when have more time," she adds to soften the blow.

She means it. For whatever that's worth.

Byakuya nods, but Hisana feels his disappointment in how his fingers sink into her spine and the churn of his reiatsu.

To soothe it, she kisses his cheek. "Good night, my lord."

---

It's hard to lead from behind, but Hisana tries when Lieutenant Ise and she arrive outside of Ryuuboku. The city sits perched on bluffs overlooking the Sea of Bleached Bone. It's about 2100 when Hisana stops in the little wood that edges Ryuuboku.

The lieutenant doesn't notice that Hisana is no longer by her side until she does. By then, Hisana has found her favorite tree for hiding items of value.

First, she strips off her waraji and tabi. The socks are soaked, and Hisana winces at the pull of dried blood against skin as she rips the fabric away. She lets out a soft hiss of pain and glances down. She can't see much in the darkness, but the gleam of blood streaming down her sole is apparent.

Her heart sinks.

Dammit….

She used to be able to flash-step for longer distances without risking injury. It's because she doesn't get much practice now that she's confined mostly to the Academy. The Academy values speed over endurance.

"What are you doing?" asks the lieutenant, finding her through the brush.

"Changing," replies Hisana, working the ties of her yukata.

"Here? In the wood?"

Hisana pauses for a moment to look up at the lieutenant.

Yeah, Lieutenant Ise doesn't look like a woman who has ever changed under the cover of branches and little else.

"We can't look like we've just booked it from Seireitei. Plus, we have got to ditch these." Hisana dangles her badge and ID from the chain to which they have been attached. "These will get us killed in the Barrel."

The lieutenant flutters at this, her fingers going to the little bronze plate marking her as lieutenant of the Eighth that is strapped to her arm.

Hisana thinks this probably means a lot to the lieutenant. All the women of the ranks seem very attached to their signifiers of status. She thinks it's because that without them the men tend to treat the women like servants.

"Also, I can't be seen with a shinigami," says Hisana, who throws a faded kosode to the lieutenant, "assuming we want to do this the easy way."

"What's the hard way?" asks Lieutenant Ise as she unfurls the garment.

"We strong-arm our way inside." Hisana pulls her zanpakutō from the bag and inspects it. "I don't think we have enough energy for that, though. Given the body count thus far." She threads the sword through her obi.

"We will come back for these items, right?" asks the lieutenant, voice strict.

Hisana nods. "That's the plan." Can't risk two badges that grant access to Seireitei on the loose.

"How will we know where—"

"I know," Hisana interrupts as she places a camouflage barrier on the tree. "I've done this before." Many times before.

"They let you wear your weapons in the city?" asks the lieutenant as they begin their approach.

"Not Ryuuboku, but in the Barrel."

"Isn't the Barrel in Ryuuboku?"

"It's within and without."

Lieutenant Ise's silence feels like an order, and Hisana loosens a sigh. "Ryuuboku is the civilized part of the city. It's the shiny outside. Nice shops. Nice homes. Nice places to eat and do stuff. Think of the Barrel as the rotten interior; it's inward and mostly subterranean."

"So, do we get to the Barrel through Ryuuboku?"

"You can," says Hisana. "But, they'd confiscate my weapon. So, I'm not going to do that."

"The map provided in the memo has us going through—"

"That map is bullshit." Why is the lieutenant arguing with her? Hisana glances over her shoulder, brows pinching together.

"If you want to go through the main checkpoint, by all means, Lieutenant. We can rendezvous at Syncope. I imagine that won't violate the 20-mile supervision requirement of this assignment."

Lieutenant Ise stiffens at the suggestion. "No. It's fine. Just know, Hisana, that at the first sign of trouble, we revert back to the directions laid out in the memo."

Hisana stifles the urge to scoff. The memo was light on details. Key details. They'd be dead in a minute if they followed those directions.

But, Hisana holds her tongue as she leads the lieutenant to the "unofficial" checkpoint located in a large concrete supply tunnel. The supply tunnel has long since been abandoned due to it being in a state of collapse. The checkpoint itself isn't a real checkpoint with guards. It's an unmanned entrance, which makes infiltrating easy if you know where to go in the supply tunnel.

"Ta-da!" sings Hisana once they step foot into the Barrel.

The lieutenant frowns as she surveys the bustling under-city.

"Yeah, it's pretty underwhelming." It's dark, dank, smells like rotten eggs, and the strings of bulbs hanging overhead fueled by kidou generators are a hodge-podge of colors that don't give off a whole lot of light.

The place hums with energy, though. And it's packed full of souls. Hisana thinks the kidou generators are the reason the city hums. She's been to enough cities in the outlying districts to know that most souls don't have a lot of spiritual power or pressure, which creates a weird dissonance of seeing a thriving marketplace but feeling nothing.

Not all cities have kidou generators; if they do, they aren't packed as tightly or don't give off as much power as these ones do.

"This way," says Hisana, nodding her head to the left.

The lieutenant trails behind her to a dead-end lined with hovels.

Hisana goes to the third door to the right from the end of the street. She tests the seal to find it still intact after almost three years, which is surprising. A wave of her hand is all it takes for the seal to crack like glass, revealing a dingy red door.

Placing her hand on the doorknob, Hisana glances back at the lieutenant. "Might want to step aside," she says quietly.

A furrow appears between Lieutenant Ise's brows. "Why?"

"Snakes," says Hisana. "Venomous snakes." She's not lying.

Immediately, the lieutenant takes a few long steps back.

As instantaneous as she can manage, Hisana opens the door and unleashes a wintry kidou spell. She's gotten stronger. A lot stronger. She was fairly certain that the spell wouldn't be enough, and, as it turns out, it was too much. The room is coated in a thick layer of ice and snow. A few of the snakes fall frozen and shatter across the floor.

Hisana winces to herself, hoping that none of the neighbors got a piece of her icy blast. But, judging by the extent of it, that wish is probably in vain.

"You can come in if you want," calls Hisana from the entryway.

"What is this place?" asks the lieutenant, lingering in the doorway. Her body casts a dark shadow over Hisana and most of the tiny room.

"My old home," says Hisana, bending down to knock on the icy floorboards in search of the one that rings hollow.

"You lived here?"

"Yeah. This is one of the nicer alleys," Hisana jokes.

"All alone?" asks the lieutenant.

"Well, I have the snakes," says Hisana drily.

The lieutenant stares at her uncomfortably. "Are snakes common here?"

"Common to the Twenty-Fifth. Not particularly common to the Barrel." Hisana grunts a little as she pries the "loose" board out of place. She then removes a frozen tangle of vipers, retrieves a small box, unlatches it, and takes a gold coin out.

"They seem common to this room," notes the lieutenant, poking her head in. "Why?"

"Security measures."

"Security measures?" parrots the lieutenant.

"I was going to be gone for a while and I didn't want people robbing me."

"Where were you going?"

"Well, I'm in Seireitei now," says Hisana, pocketing the coin and all the kan that is in the box.

"You hoped to return. Here?"

Hisana chuckles. "It's not that bad. Food is better and cheaper here than at the Academy."

The lieutenant isn't a dumb woman, though. She is going to wonder about Hisana. This, however, confirms something that Hisana has long suspected: The Captain has never revealed why he hired Hisana or how he even knows Hisana to Lieutenant Ise.

Hisana thinks this is a good thing.

"What kind of snakes are they?" asks the lieutenant as Hisana reseals the door.

"Vipers." Before Lieutenant Ise can think to ask the next obvious question (what kind of vipers?), Hisana cuts her off with a swift, "I'm not a herpetologist."

While true, Hisana knows that these particular snakes are Southern Black Forest Vipers, which possess a venom prized for rendering their victim unconscious pretty quickly. Their lethality is middling as far as vipers go, which is also good since Hisana doesn't necessarily want to kill her neighbors in case of accidents.

"How did you source them?"

"A friend."

"A snake friend?" The lieutenant sounds incredulous.

"Yeah." Hisana grins wryly. "A snake friend."

"So, you sleep with the snakes?"

"Not usually." Hisana smirks.

"Where do you sleep, then?"

"The snakes aren't always here."

"Just when you go away?"

Hisana raises her brows, irritation braiding her nerves, and she swallows a sigh. "Yep." Although, it definitely would be thrilling to sleep with deadly snakes coiled around her. Unfortunately, her zanpakutō's power doesn't grant her immunity to venom.

"Will I get to meet this snake friend?"

"Not if you're lucky."

The lieutenant frowns in a way that makes Hisana wonder if maybe she wants to meet the snake friend. Hisana rolls this idea around in her brain. Masamitsu and Lieutenant Ise might hit it off. He's cute in a weird spidery-spindly sort of way, and she thinks he might have handsome eyes if they weren't always hidden behind thick goggles. His scars are kind of neat, but Hisana isn't sure if the lieutenant is into scars. Also, aside from all the snakes and dangerous lizards and frogs, he's pretty harmless.

Captain Kyōraku would hate him for the lieutenant, but Hisana isn't sure if that's a plus or minus in his column.

"This way," says Hisana, jerking her chin in the direction of The Drum Bearer, which is a club located even further underground. Hisana flounces down the rickety spiral staircase leading to Sector 4 with practiced ease.

The lieutenant, however, navigates the steps as if they could fall apart at any moment. "Where are we going?"

Hisana chuckles lightly to herself as she watches the lieutenant's precise footfalls. She moves with a grace that Hisana will never know. It's too bad that she doesn't capitalize on it more.

"To The Drum Bearer Club."

"That's not Syncope," protests Lieutenant Ise when she reaches the bottom step.

"It's our safest way into Syncope." Which is to say, it's not very safe at all. It's sort of like trying to get to the World of the Living through Dangai instead of Hell.

Hisana continues to lead the way, pausing only to glance sidelong at the lieutenant who seemingly regards everything and everyone around her with guarded curiosity.

Smart girl.

"What's at this club?"

Hisana pauses before answering, wondering if asking questions is just the lieutenant's way of coping with anxiety. While annoying—deeply, thoroughly annoying—Hisana supposes the lieutenant could do other things that would make this experience worse, so she indulges her.

"The code for Syncope."

"We have the code," observes Lieutenant Ise.

"We have a code. An old code judging by the dead bodies."

"How do you know the code changes?"

"I lived here."

Lieutenant Ise's silence needles Hisana so she glances back to find the lieutenant's brows bunched up and her lips slanted to the side. "Just because I live in Seireitei," reasons the lieutenant, "doesn't mean I have the key to get into the Eleventh's armory."

"Well, to borrow your analogy, let's say I worked for the Eleventh as their armory's locksmith."

Hisana doesn't miss the way the lieutenant's eyes widen or the nervous way she pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "I see," she murmurs.

Part of Hisana is grateful that the lieutenant doesn't gasp and call her a criminal outright. Another, bigger part of Hisana, however, sort of wishes she would. At least, they wouldn't have to keep dancing around this inconvenient truth.

At least, to the extent that the lieutenant finds this information disconcerting, she hides it well enough. Maybe most of the highborn in Seireitei naturally assume everyone from Rukongai is some sort of criminal so this discovery isn't that surprising.

Hisana shrugs and moves along.

The Drum Bearer Club is at the northernmost end of Sector 4, and it's a garishly lit abomination. A whole quarter of one of the generators must go to lighting this building up. It's got hot-pink lights depicting its name, a wooden sign of a man who soundlessly strikes a drum every third beat, and like five other neon signs, all of various colors, spelling out different brand names and items on sale. The only thing that's missing is goddamn chaser lights.

Hisana complained with every new modification made to the storefront, each tackier than the last. No one listened to her. Everyone liked the landlord's wife too much. No one wanted to hurt her feelings.

Idiots.

"This is it?" asks Lieutenant Ise, voice low.

"This is it."

"It looks like a sex shop."

"It's a front," says Hisana softly. "And it sells tack and supplies."

"Tack and supplies? For what?"

"Oxen, horses, cattle, other big animals with hooves that people like to eat."

"Why?" scoffs Lieutenant Ise.

"That's what the Southern Twenty-Fifth's major export is. Someone's got to wrangle and protect the livestock that makes up a large portion of the food supply in Seireitei."

The bell above the door chimes when Hisana enters.

"Welcome, esteemed guest, we are so—" The large burly man with a thick black mustache and a straw hat stops speaking the moment he sees Hisana. "Hisana!" he shouts and grabs her up into a bone-cracking hug.

She braces. She grimaces. She'd really like him to put her down.

When he does, she lets out a breathless, "Vaquero," and wobbles a little before finding her balance.

"We thought you were dead!"

"Well, here I am."

"A cat really has nine lives, no?"

Hisana blinks. "Sure."

"Who's the girl?" he asks, brows wagging, gaze cutting over to the lieutenant.

"My date," says Hisana gruffly.

Lieutenant Ise flusters. "I'm not—we're not—she's not-"

Vaquero turns back to Hisana. "You know," he begins with a cluck of the tongue, "we all assumed that your lover in Inuzuri would finally turn up here."

Oh yes, the story about her lover in Inuzuri…. Hisana almost forgot. This lie was really her way of explaining why she sent money to that hellscape since she never wanted anyone to know about her sister. A lover, then, was invented, one who she described repeatedly as big, strong, scary, and the worst thug outside the Southern Eighty.

So, the lieutenant. A natural fit.

Hisana frowns. "Of course, you did."

"What's her name?"

"Nanao," the lieutenant supplies before Hisana can invent a new one.

"Nanao!" Vaquero cries then grabs her up in a hug.

Hisana grins. "She's wily, Vaquero. Better watch her."

"We all knew she was going to be a delicate flower," he says.

Hisana glares at him.

Did people really think her lover was some dainty woman? Whatever did she say to give off that impression?

"Well, she's family now," says Vaquero approvingly. "Welcome, Miss Nanao."

He then leads them to the back of the store, through the storage area, and to a hidden door that he has to bang on five times to release. "The art of being a slave?" he asks.

"Is to rule one's masters," replies Hisana, giving the code.

Vaquero smiles. "Very good. You remembered."

She flashes her gold coin as further proof. "You went too easy on me."

Hisana and the lieutenant then begin down a flight of stairs. When they reach the end, the doorway is curtained with a heavy beige tarp. Hisana pushes through it first and peers out. She thinks she hears distant sounds of men in the back room. They're probably gambling at this time of night.

"What is this?" asks Lieutenant Ise.

"A den of thieves," says Hisana, gaze trailing to the lieutenant, who stares at her blankly. "Come this way."

She traces a path to the back of the basement level, where she finds four men and a boy seated around a table. Hachirō sees her first and starts.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," she says quietly.

His cheeks pull in, his jaw juts out, and he grins at her. There is something predatory lurking in his stare like he might consider her the next opponent on his list to be vanquished. "I have."

The others turn in their seats. Tsutomu is the first to regard her with any warmth. "Hisana," he says and nods his head.

Kunio acknowledges her with a grim look.

Hisana is unfamiliar with the other two, one a man in his middle years and the other a kid.

"Who's she?" asks the kid, jabbing his thumb in Hisana's direction.

"You know that story about the sluice gates being triggered to cause a diversion for the shinigami during the Treasure Box Job?" asks Tsutomu.

The kid scowls. "Yeah."

"Who do you think put that plan together?"

Hisana takes a seat next to Hachirō and kicks out the spare chair beside her for the lieutenant.

"The Rat Bastard of Inuzuri, of course," replies the kid.

Lieutenant Ise takes a seat, her back as rigid as a wooden plank.

Tsutomu laughs. "And who do you think that person is?"

The kid scoffs and then shrugs.

"You're looking at her," says Hachirō with a chuckle.

"No way!" cries the kid.

Everyone laughs.

Everyone except Hisana and the lieutenant, who trade impassive stares.

"Yes, way!" teases the middle-aged guy next to the kid.

Must be the kid's dad, Hisana thinks to herself.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Hisana," he says. "My name is Toshiaki and this is my son Hiroki. You've quite the reputation."

"But, she's a girl!" protests the kid.

"Girl's got some magic in her," says Hachirō. "Speaking of girls, who's she?" he asks, pinning the lieutenant with a glare.

"My date," Hisana replies sardonically. Before the lieutenant can get out an objection, Hisana adds, "Her name's Nanao."

"Where did you two meet?" asks Tsutomu, cupping his chin in his hand. He bats his eyes dreamily.

"Somewhere far from here," says Hisana under her breath. "Are you going to deal me in or what?"

"Sure. Does the girl play or not?" asks Kunio.

Lieutenant Ise goes as white as a sheet.

"No," says Hisana. "Nanao is classy."

"Then, what's she doing with you?" jokes Hachirō.

Hisana laughs at that one.

The conversation starts easily enough once the game begins. Hachirō bought a new knife; the kid was impressed to hold it. Tsutomu is dating some kabuki dancer from Sector 1. Kunio has taken up playing the shamisen. The kid and his dad are there for reasons unknown to Hisana.

"So, why are you here?" asks Hachirō.

"Me?" Hisana smirks and points to herself. "This is where I live."

"Not for four fucking years it isn't," he argues.

"Three," she corrects. "Three years."

"You do some time?" asks Hachirō.

She nods. "Yeah. I got caught."

Tsutomu pours her a cup of sake, and she downs it one gulp. It tastes cloyingly sweet and thin. Oh, how she's forgotten how bad the liquor was in the Barrel.

Hachirō glowers at her. He's not convinced, she thinks. Or he's pissed. She'd be pissed, too, if she thought he left her out to hang in the wind.

"The gang's work is a little different these days," he says, warningly.

"Oh?" Hisana's brows rise. "Are we no longer stealing things?"

"We are." Hachirō sucks at his teeth and glances away. "It's the what that's changed."

Tsutomu lowers his head.

"What are we stealing, now?"

"People," provides Kunio.

Hisana's stomach drops. "What?"

"It ain't like that," corrects Hachirō.

"I'm sorry." She clears her throat. "But, I'm not following. Kunio just said we're stealing people." Her brain unspools at the mere idea.

"Yeah, well, we're more like finding people and luring them."

Hisana blinks. A lot. "What?"

"We're finding folks with spiritual power and bringing them into the woods to bait hollow," says Tsutomu softly.

"Does Hisoka know about this?" she asks in disbelief.

"Who the hell do you think cooked this idea up?" barks Hachirō.

Fucking Hisoka. She's never trusted that bastard. "Why?"

"It's Syncope Club."

"The hollow fighting ring, you mean?" she asks, brows knitting together. "What does that have to do—"

"It brings in a lot of money, okay. A lot of money. And it's easy work. Just find a target, lure them out into the woods, and Syncope's men do the rest," Hachirō grumbles.

"It's a hollow-based economy now, babe," says Kunio.

"Don't call me that," Hisana bites out.

Kunio raises his hands and laughs. "So testy."

At least now she knows why they have added a kid to the Club. Better bait. Disgusting.

"I'm sure Hisoka would love to bring you into the operation," says Hachirō under his breath.

Hisana shudders at this. As much as Kunio rubs her the wrong way on the best of days, Hisoka makes her skin crawl. "I'm a thief, not a trafficker."

"That magical sword of yours," Hachirō says, eying her zanpakutō, "just imagine the number of people we could lure out into the woods with that thing. Get enough of them together, and we are going to score a prized hollow."

She exhales a sharp breath through her nose. "Do we get a bonus if our hollow is strong?"

"We do. We also get a cut of the winnings if it takes the top spot at the tournament."

This is terrible. Really, really terrible. Hisana's afraid to look over at the lieutenant because she knows if she does, all the men at the table will figure things out between them and then they're done for. "I want to talk to Hisoka," says Hisana. "I want to see one of these tournaments."

Hachirō shrugs. "Your wish, my command. Next tournament is midnight tonight. Hisoka will be there. I bet he'll roll out the red carpet to see you." There's a darkness to his look when he says the last part that makes Hisana want to claw her own skin off.

"Great." She crosses her arms in front of her. "Ask him to bring a financial prospectus," she says flatly.

Hachirō chuckles. "You always were a bitch."

When the last game ends, Hisana and Lieutenant Ise rise from the table. The lieutenant looks like she wants to speak in private, and Hisana feels similarly. But, before either of them can take more than a step, it's an ambush.

The kid and his dad try to engage the lieutenant in conversation, and Hachirō has Hisana's elbow in his hand. "Stop it," she hisses, yanking away.

"Whoa, whoa." He glances down at her surprised by the reaction. "You used to be easier."

Untrue. She's never been easy. "What do you want?" she whispers, glancing sideways at the lieutenant, who is still chatting with the kid and his dad.

"What's going on with you?" Hachirō leans over her in a way that Hisana probably would've been more inclined to take as casual flirtation three years ago, but, now, hates. "You really got a thing for that girl, eh?"

"No," she snaps.

Hachirō laughs. "Listen, I was just going to invite you both to get some sleep in my room since I imagine your room is a fucking mess." He nods to the side room on the right. "You look tired, and we have a few hours to burn before the event."

"You want to rummage through our shit," she surmises.

He laughs again. "Holy hell, Hisana, not everyone is out to get you. I'm just," his voice trails.

"You're just what?"

"I'm just glad to see you is all." His features tighten, and he shrugs.

"This is all a horrific idea. You know that, right?"

Hachirō tears his attention away from her, his jaw locking. "It's easy to sit on your high horse when you haven't been here fighting through the shit for years."

"When the fuck did Syncope stop dealing drugs and get into this?"

"About the time you disappeared." He shoves a hand through his hair. "It's weird. I don't know what to say. I think…."

"What?"

"I think there's something fucked up behind this. Behind their jump."

"You don't say?" Now, she's just being mean. "Sorry," she sighs, gaze flitting back to the lieutenant, who, too, is watching her. "What do you think is behind this move?"

His heavy shoulders shrug up. "Don't know. Some of the guys speculate that it's shinigami shit."

Hisana rolls her eyes.

"No, seriously." He catches her chin between his fingers and nudges her head back to center.

"Stop that," she whispers and swats his hand away.

Hachirō grins. "You got it bad for someone." Then, he glances over at the lieutenant. "I don't think she likes you as much, though."

Hisana scowls and exhales a heavy breath. He's not wrong. She had a higher tolerance for flirtation before. "Say more about the shinigami."

"Well, Syncope killed a few. Tossed their asses straight off the cliff."

"We weren't involved in that, right?"

"We?" he mocks. "There's no 'we,' Hisana. You're out. Whole worlds have shifted since you've been gone. You're gonna have to crawl at Hisoka's feet to get him to take you back."

"Love that for me. But, about the shinigami—"

"No, we didn't kill the shinigami or touch the bodies."

"How did they find out?"

"Well, the first one tried to get in on the action and outed himself."

She flinches at that.

"Yeah. So, he died. Then the last six—"

"Six?" Her eyes widen.

"Yeah, the last six used the wrong fucking passcode."

"Six times?" she rasps out in shock. What sort of operation are they running at the Second?

Hachirō laughs. "Yeah, don't have to be too smart to be a shinigami it seems." His smile fades as he looks down at her. "That's not what you were doing, right, Hisana? You didn't see your golden ticket back to Seireitei and re-enlist or some stupid shit like that?"

She shakes her head. "Nothing like that. They caught me fair and square."

"Never fuck with nobles for a heist. Their souls are all made of shit and splinters."

Finally, common ground.

"What are you gonna do with the girl?" asks Hachirō.

Hisana feels the tension building in her head. "Is Masamitsu still around?"

"The snake guy?" Hachirō says incredulously. "Yeah, he's still around. Why?"

"She's got a thing for snakes."

"I'd say."

Hisana glares at him.

"Where the fuck did you meet her? She looks expensive."

"She is. Why do you think I'm here begging for scraps?"

Hachirō quirks a brow. "I don't see it."

"See what?"

"The chemistry."

"You don't need to see it."

"You never bring anyone around here. Not anyone you like."

"She's a rich girl, you know. Thinks poverty is sexy like the stuff she reads in novels or some shit."

Hachirō's expression sours. "I don't like her. She looks like a liability."

Hisana agrees. But, she can't say that. "Whatever," she sighs. "I'm going to take her to Masamitsu's shop. Come get me whenever you work out whatever you do with Hisoka."

Before she can step away, he grabs her by the arm. "Be careful with Hisoka, Hisana. He's got protection now. You can't threaten your way or pout your way around him."

"Got it. No threatening. No pouting."

"Nanao," calls Hisana. "I got a surprise for you." She then wags her brows like she's about to proposition the lieutenant.

Lieutenant Ise bows politely to the dad and his son and follows Hisana out of the club. When they're a good distance into Sector 4 proper, Hisana pulls the lieutenant into a narrow supply alley. "We should go," she whispers.

"What?" asks the lieutenant.

"We need to leave."

"We haven't seen anything."

"But, we know."

"Our job was to get eyes on the—"

"They just want confirmation."

"No," argues the lieutenant. "They wanted eyes. They actually want documentation."

"No way we're getting documentation."

Lieutenant Ise lifts a brow. "What about your contact with that Hisoka fellow?"

"Hisoka is bad news. Bad news."

"Do you want to have to trek all the way back out here again?"

Hisana opens her mouth to launch an objection, but the lieutenant interrupts her.

"Because that's what's going to happen. We are going to confirm and describe what we see then they're going to say, 'Oh, Hisana did such a great job last time. Let's make sure we get documents to evidence it.' And then, they're going to send you back out here."

"They can't," says Hisana. "If I leave now, I can't come back. They'll kill me."

"They killed seven of the Second's men. Six of them because of the same bad intel. They're going to keep sending shinigami until they get what they're looking for."

Why did she sign up for this life? Oh, wait, she didn't.

Hisana glances around, lips sloping into a frown. "Fine."

The lieutenant nods. "Where are we going now?"

"To see the snake friend."

"The snake friend?" The lieutenant's brow furrows. "Why?"

Hisana lifts a shoulder. "You seemed interested, and we have time to kill."

Lieutenant Ise cracks a grin, and Hisana takes her lack of objection as assent.

Masamitsu's shop is at the other end of Sector 4 in a nondescript ramshackle shanty with a crooked sign that doesn't light up. When Hisana enters, she's both amazed and relieved that very little has changed. The shop is nearly unnavigable with the number of boxy snake tanks and lizard terrariums. A large poster on the far wall reads, "ALL SALES ARE FINAL," which, given what's for sale here, always struck Hisana as ominous.

Lieutenant Ise gasps when she sees some vibrantly colored frogs. "Dart frogs," she says excitedly, glancing over her shoulder at Hisana.

Hisana keeps her hands behind her back and bends down to take a look. "They're yellow and red," she observes.

"Yes!" Masamitsu pops his head up from behind the terrarium and grins. His goggles make his eyes look bulbous, and the strap keeping them tied to his head causes his curly blond hair to poke out at odd angles. "The rare Phantom Red and Phantom Yellow dart frogs are from the Willowing Waste Bog just outside of the Black Forest."

"Oh no," sighs Hisana, fingers rubbing circles into her temples. She really does not need a scholarly thesis on dart frogs.

"I can see that my esteemed guest, here, has an interest in darts?" he continues.

"Don't encourage him," Hisana whispers to the lieutenant.

Lieutenant Ise, however, ignores her. Pointedly. "Yes. How did you collect them?"

Hisana thinks her soul leaves her somewhere between Masamitsu's thoughts on which food sources are the most enticing to Phantom Dart Frogs (it's spiders) and how he managed to get a Dark Dart and a Phantom Dart to mate so that he could have a custom Phantom Dark Dart Frog.

"Just a dab will do you," says Masamitsu.

"Only a drop of their venom will kill a man?" asks Lieutenant Ise.

Masamitsu nods gravely. "Not that any of my customers would do such a thing."

Hisana smirks on her way toward the door, where she spots the pit viper tank. She's about to lean over to look through the side when the door swings open to reveal the father and son duo.

"Hisana!" says the dad.

She straightens.

"Hachirō sent me to collect you. Hisoka would like to speak with you before the match."

Hisana glances back at the lieutenant, who stirs.

"Miss Nanao's presence wasn't requested," he says softly. "Hiroki will bring her to the club when it begins, though. So don't worry." Toshiaki offers Hisana a conciliatory smile.

"Great. Let's go," she says, heart pounding in her chest.

The two wind their way to Syncope in Sector 1. When they reach the club's door, Toshiaki supplies the code, "Within every dew drop, a world of struggle," and they're in. Hisana has never been to the Syncope Club and so she's surprised by just how much space it possesses. The design of its basement level reminds her of a panopticon, which makes sense since the matches can be viewed easily this way.

She and Toshiaki continue until they can't, until a large-bodied guard steps in front of them, blocking the door. "Miss Hisana only," he says in a low baritone.

"Of course," says Toshiaki, who immediately gives Hisana an apologetic glance. He then takes a step back.

"This way," the guard says gruffly.

Hisana follows a few paces off the guard's lead, grateful that she hasn't had to part with her zanpakutō. Although… maybe that's not a good sign. Hisoka definitely knows about her zanpakutō, and he probably expects her to have it on her.

After climbing five flights of stairs, the guard opens a large oak door and steps to the side. "Go," he grunts.

Hisana does as instructed and enters. Hisoka is standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling glass window that wraps around the side of the room facing what Hisana assumes to be the battleground. In his hand appears to be a cup of sake or whiskey, and he takes a slow sip before turning to her.

"My little Hisana," he greets her with a sly smile.

Hisoka is a tall, willowy man. He has a shock of dark black hair and dark black eyes to match his dark black soul. His face is angular, his jaw thin, and his nose straight. Dressed in dark gray silks, he could almost pass for a patrician. The jagged scar that slants across his nose, however, gives him a little more edge than most nobles have.

Hisana wants to pour accelerant over her head and set herself on fire. She has always hated the covetous way he regards her and all women.

He stretches his arm out, hand palm-side down. "Attend to me."

Her stomach clenches, bile driving up her throat, but she does as bid. "Hisoka," she says his name like it burns her.

She doesn't offer him her hand, but he takes it all the same, and he presses his cold lips to the back of it.

"My Hisana," he breathes her name then pulls her closer to the window so that they may stare onto the battleground together. Several men dressed in aprons prepare the arena, frantically watering and patting down the dirt floor. "We all thought you were dead."

"Did you mourn me?" she asks, voice dripping with sarcasm.

She catches him watching her out of the corner of his eye. "I cried for days." He takes another sip. "Shall I pour you a drink?"

Hisana shakes her head. "I hear it's quite a show. Don't want to miss a thing."

Never one to hear an answer that he doesn't like, Hisoka leaves her side to go to the table stationed in front of the couch that faces the window. He takes a clay bottle and pours a fresh cup. "Hachirō says you want back in." He hands her the drink.

It's sake, and, judging by the smell of it, it's the good stuff. Hisana folds her arms over her chest. "Yeah. I need work, and he said that some things have changed."

"That they have." Hisoka runs a finger down the seam of her red yukata. "I always admired you, Hisana. You were so proficient, so decisive, so prudent. I didn't believe you had actually died."

She resists the urge to shiver. "Nice of you to keep the faith."

A grin stretches across his face. "I won't go easy on you, Hisana. You've been away so long."

Her hand fiddles with the cup, rotating it by halves. "I wouldn't expect it any other way, Hisoka."

"I imagine that you could catch me a prize all by yourself with that reiatsu you have."

"Is that my punishment?" She eyes him. "I have to go into the Black Forest and bait a hollow?"

His grin lengthens. "Part of your punishment."

"I'm not real into the pied-piper thing you got going on."

"Well, that's what we do now, Hisana."

"We could get back to thieving."

"Too much risk, not enough reward."

"I hear the shinigami are interested in this enterprise. Sounds like a lot of risk to me."

"They're just low-level grunts. Nothing to concern yourself with," he says, fingers threading through a section of her hair.

Hisana's hand falls to the hilt of her sword. "Well, those bodies are starting to pile up. That's going to draw the attention of the kind of shinigami that cause all the trouble."

"You've handled those shinigami well in the past."

"I don't remember that." What Hisana remembers is nearly getting killed by two seated officers.

"You dispatched those two boys."

"I nearly died."

"But, you didn't, and they did. You're stronger now. I can feel it."

"So, I bait you some big fat juicy hollows. Then, what?"

"You get a cut of whatever they win."

"No cut from the capture?"

Hisoka chuckles. "Always the money with you."

"I like money, what can I say?" She tilts her head to the side. Hisoka watches her with a dark look, and she can't tell if he wants to kill her or fuck her.

"You know what I think?" Hisoka's fingers snarl in her hair, and, slowly, he forces her head back. His lips hover over her mouth. She can feel the heat of his breath on her face. "I think what you like most is men with power."

"I like power." She grins. "But, you should see my date tonight. She's pretty hot." Hisana's gaze flickers to the crowd pressing close to the barriers lining the arena. Lieutenant Ise is standing beside the boy and his dad, hugging her chest and looking very uncomfortable with the safety precautions being installed.

Following her stare, Hisoka's grip on her hair releases.

It takes every ounce of restraint that she can muster to resist testing the scalp that burns at the back of her head. But, she does. The thoughts burning hotter inside her head help. "I'd like to see whatever agreement you have in place with Syncope before I sign up to be hollow bait," she says. "Also, I'd like to see some receipts."

"I don't think you quite understand, Hisana," growls Hisoka. "You don't have that kind of power anymore."

"Fine. I'll walk. Good luck with those hollows and the shinigami that come next." Before she can take a single step toward the door, Hisoka's hand shackles her in place.

"I'll get you your papers, but," he says, looping a finger under her chin, "you're going to have to do something for me." His thumb traces a line down her throat.

"What's that?"

"They'll want to see proof of what you can do with that sword of yours. Use the girl to show them."

Reflexively, Hisana swallows, holding his stare, matching his intensity with her own. "That all?"

"That's all." His hand falls away, and she begins toward the door. "For now," he says as she pulls the door back.

Upon leaving the room, the man standing guard steps in front of Hisana to lead her down to the crush of people waiting for the first match to begin. Hisana locks onto the lieutenant's reiatsu and weaves her way through the tangle of souls, her heart racing, blood pumping, she can almost taste iron in her teeth. She's so close. So damn close. But, when she opens her mouth to call out, Hachirō blocks her.

"I don't have time—"

"We need to talk," he interrupts.

"Seriously, Hachirō, I do not—"

"Make the fucking time because if you can't explain this," he pauses to reveal the item that he holds covered in cloth, "we're going to kill you."

Hisana glances down to see the shiny bronze metal of the lieutenant's badge. Fear crowds her. Fuuuuck.

"Fine," she says.

It's not fine.

Nothing right now is fine.

"Follow me," he growls and tips his head in the direction of the entrance to the club.

"Let me talk to Nanao for just a second."

"Hisana."

"A fucking second, Hachirō. If you're going to kill me, she needs to know. She's done nothing wrong."

He heaves a sigh. "Tick-fucking-tock."

Hisana swiftly dives through the crowd, grabs the lieutenant by her sleeve, presses close, and whispers, "Hisoka's men are going to take you up to see him and several other gang leaders. They should have documents. Kill them and leave."

The lieutenant's eyes widen, but before she can say a word, Hisana is gone.

Hachirō leads Hisana through the entrance and to a small training area tucked away in some forgotten corner. It's empty and brightly lit with a dirt floor and not much else going for it.

Hisana regards Hachirō with some caution. They've known each other for a decade, which is a long time by Rukongai standards and a hell of a long time by the standards of thieves. While Hisana wouldn't consider any of the assholes with whom she's worked over the years to be actual friends, Hachirō is probably as close to a friend as she's ever known in Rukongai.

So, with good authority, she can sense he's pissed and upset with her. She doesn't blame him. What she's done by coming here is pretty upsetting shit.

"What the fuck is this, Hisana?" He tosses the lieutenant's badge at her feet. "Is it what I think it is? Is this some shinigami shit?"

She stares at him, unflinching.

"What's that stupid look on your face? You've always been cold, but not like this." He snaps his gaze to the little passageway leading to the entrance of the match. People flicker past. No one notices this hidden place as they do.

"How did you find this?" she asks, picking the badge up to inspect the detailing. Unsurprising, it's the Eighth's insignia. The lieutenant must have had second thoughts in the forest and swiped it back.

As much as Hisana wants to curse Lieutenant Ise for doing this, she gets it. She gets wanting to cling to the things that are important in the face of uncertainty. She also gets the lieutenant not trusting her. She's a fucking criminal after all.

But damn if this doesn't really throw a wrench into the gears of this mission.

"The kid picked it off the girl when he brought her here," says Hachirō. "He didn't know what it was so he gave it to me."

Hisana exhales a long breath and glances to the side at the mudbrick making up the wall.

"So, is the girl a shinigami, Hisana?"

"No," she says quickly.

"You're the shinigami, then?"

She wants to say "no," but she's pretty sure she can't. Not if she wants him to believe that Lieutenant Ise isn't. She isn't too sure she can save either of them now, but she can at least try to save the lieutenant.

"Yeah." She nods. "I'm a shinigami." The words do not roll well off the tongue, and hearing them spoken out loud freezes her heart.

Hachirō shakes his head. "I knew it. I knew that's why you were gone so fucking long."

Hisana snorts. Despite it all, she finds it a little funny that Hachirō assumes she'd make lieutenant in three years. He doesn't know better, though. How could he?

"So, you were just going to use us and get us all thrown into jail or killed, right?" Hachirō presents this as a statement of fact, not a question.

"No. My job was to get eyes on the operation. Syncope was the target. Not us."

"There's no 'us,' you fucking traitor."

Hisana's head falls. She can't disagree. Even though she would like to.

"Are you the only one who knows?" asks Hisana.

"Why? You going to kill me if so?"

She stares at him. The hard truth is right there. She will kill him, but only if she has to. Only if he makes her.

"I know," he says. "No one else."

"Are you—"

"Fuck yes, Hisana. Fuck. Yes. I'm going to tell Hisoka, who is going to tell the Syncope boss, who is going to turn this entire stadium loose on you and the girl."

"I can't let you do that." Her hand goes to the hilt of her zanpakutō.

"You'd kill me?"

"You're going to kill me," she says cooly.

"A duel, then."

"Hachirō," Hisana warns. She doesn't want to duel. She doesn't want any of this. "I don't want to kill you."

"Funny that you think you could." His hand wraps around the hilt of his sword. "No magic shit, Hisana. Just steel against steel."

"Hachirō." She shakes her head. "Please don't."

But, he does. And she does. It's done in a handful of seconds. In a handful of seconds, it's his blood on the ground. It's his body slumping to his knees. It's all over.

Hisana braces, eyes squeezed shut, heart gone still, breath like a knife at her throat. She wipes the blade of her zanpakutō clean and sheathes it to the sounds of death bubbling deep in Hachirō's throat.

When she hears the weight of him hit the floor—an undignified "slap"—it's her roommate's voice that sings in her head. It's the sound of the words, "You belong to Seireitei, now." Because as Hachirō's life gives way to nothing, Hisana agrees.

She no longer has a home here.

Desolation gives way to raw panic once Hisana feels a shift in reiatsu. It starts like a torrent then turns into a black hole, as if all energy is being sucked into it.

"Lieutenant?" she gasps, realizing that the lieutenant has been left to her own devices all this time.

Hisana rushes back into the maddening crowd. The current of souls gathered to cheer on their favored hollows has a force of its own. It is thrashing and wild, and the bodies are densely packed. Weathering the crush is the hard part. The guards are nothing. They are already fleeing from something or someone when she winds her way back to the skybox where she met Hisoka.

Throwing open the door reveals chaos as still life. Three felled men. Shattered glass coats the floor and couch. Cushions and pillows have been scattered from their places.

Hisana's attention shifts to find the lieutenant standing there, upright, hand over her mouth. "What happened?"

Lieutenant Ise's eyes are wide, her skin pale, and her brows are raised when she looks at Hisana. "It really only took a drop," she says, holding up the vial. "Masamitsu wasn't lying."

Hisana laughs. Really laughs. The lieutenant poisoned the Barrel's major gang leaders. "Masamitsu is serious about customer satisfaction."

The lieutenant steps lightly across the floor as if she's afraid that she might wake the dead. When she reaches Hisana, Hisana hands her the lieutenant badge.

Confusion and then horror shift the lines of the lieutenant's face. "How did—"

"Do you have the documents?"

Lieutenant Ise lifts up two rust-colored files and gives them to Hisana.

"Let's get the fuck out of here." Hisana doesn't wait for the lieutenant's approval before reaching for the door.

Her hand is against the handle. Her fingers wrap around the metal. She feels its chill, its smoothness, and then she feels raw, unbridled power. It isn't coming from her or the lieutenant. It's coming from outside the window. It's coming from the monster that has been unleashed.

She can't move at first. Fear has gripped her. It takes painful seconds for her to shove it down, to digest it. Once its tether lessens, she turns to find the lieutenant standing in front of the window staring out.

"What is it?"

"A hollow," says Lieutenant Ise. "I think."

"You think?"

"It has multiple masks."

Hisana blinks. "What?"

"It looks like they've spliced together four of them."

"Spliced?" Hisana doesn't like the sound of that. Several long strides are all it takes for her to join the lieutenant at the window. "Holy shit."

Lieutenant Ise nailed it. It looks like four hollows have been stitched together. Hisana squints to see if she can see the seams of reiatsu, but she can't. All she sees is the shadowy bodies of four monsters trying to break apart in four different directions as it crashes through the shields keeping the battleground contained.

"Going to guess these were the prior victors," says Hisana.

"Valid guess."

Both of them look on as the hollow's shadows stretch out and curl to reveal a hand dripping inky shades. The hand wraps around several souls and scoops them into its mouth.

"Shit!" Hisana sprints to the door.

They have to do something to stop the hollow. That's what shinigami do, right? Purify hollows? Hisana vaguely remembers that being a reoccurring theme during her lessons at the Academy.

Fighting the tides of souls trying to escape the existential threat lumbering their way is harder than Hisana initially anticipates. The crowd throws her around. At one point, when she loses her footing, she's nearly certain that she's going to be trampled to death before she even makes it to the hollow tearing into the souls at the back.

The lieutenant is quicker than she is, and Hisana can feel her reiatsu flare as she launches kidou at the creature. Never before has Hisana felt kidou crackles and sizzle with the fierceness of a zanpakutō's release until right then. From the snatches of the lieutenant that Hisana can see as she works to untangle herself from the crush, Lieutenant Ise is a sight to behold.

The second that Hisana emerges from the stampede, her zanpakutō is drawn and she thinks she has released it, but she couldn't hear her own voice or feel the crash of her reiatsu through the din of energy that blares around her.

She must have since she can see the threads of the hollow's reiatsu clearly, its frequency and vibrations shine golden in her mind. As she feared, this is not one hollow, but four, and, as great as she thinks her zanpakutō's power is, it cannot jam four separate frequencies at once.

Hisana watches the exhausting pace that the lieutenant keeps with her kidou, a seemingly endless ocean of energy from which to draw. However, the spells—while incredibly potent—are not affecting the hollow much because it has a shield.

A fucking kidou shield.

Hisana didn't think such a thing was possible for a hollow.

What the hell is this thing?

The lieutenant is too busy trying to get the monster to lock onto her and not feed on the souls that she doesn't appear to notice the shield. Or maybe she notices but is a little overwhelmed with how to take this thing down while keeping it distracted since shield breaking won't be a pain point for the hollow.

Hisana, however, is happy to oblige. Breaking the shield is something her zanpakutō was made to do, and she unthreads the kidou used to create it with ease.

Once undone, the lieutenant's spells crash into the hollow with greater force, distracting it well enough to allow Hisana to start the process of jamming up the creatures' reiatsu frequencies until one-by-one each hollow slips into a stupor. It feels a little like what Hisana imagines disarming a bomb must be like.

First, she softens the hollow up, untangling the threads of its reiatsu until they are nice and loose. Then, taking them in hand, she slices into the inky shadows that snap at her when she gets too close. This allows her zanpakutō to get a taste of the creature's frequency, and it matches it, jamming the hollow's reiatsu, which grants Hisana the power to override it with her will. Once overridden, Hisana speaks a soft, "Silence," and the hollow freezes up, allowing her to safely break its mask.

"Last one," calls the lieutenant.

Hisana glances back at her. "Roger that."

Rinse and repeat. Except, in her exhaustion, Hisana misjudges her footing, and the hollow pulls away from the lieutenant's assault and targets Hisana, likely understanding that its power is being diminished. Hisana does her best to block the creature's attack, but one of its shadowy tendrils catches her and pierces her through the side. Skewered through, the hollow chomps down on her shoulder. A combination of Hisana's zanpakutō and the lieutenant's kidou, however, stuns the hollow, which allows Hisana to pierce the mask, purifying it in the process.

Hisana lands back first, the breath driving out of her lungs on impact. She sees stars. Blackness comes next. Then, she feels the lieutenant's hands gripping her shoulders.

"Hisana!" she cries out, shaking her.

The first breath feels like life itself entering her body, pure and warm and peaceful. The second breath, however, brings the pain. Coughing and heaving, Hisana sits up. The arena blinks into view. Its dirt floor. The dust billowing over them. The burning smell of kidou and reiatsu is so thick that Hisana swears she can taste it.

"You okay?" asks Lieutenant Ise.

Hisana nods, looking up at her. "Where are the documents?"

The lieutenant's brows bunch together, and she chuckles. "That's the first thing you say."

Hisana stares at her, unblinking. What else is she going to say?

"Up in the skybox," says Lieutenant Ise. "I didn't want to risk them in the crowd or during the fight."

Smart. Hisana would hate killing a friend over nothing. She surveys the arena, finding it mostly empty save for a few injured souls. "I can go get them," Hisana offers. She thinks she needs a minute to gather herself.

"You sure? You look injured." The lieutenant tugs at the collar of Hisana's yukata to inspect the flesh underneath. It must not look great because she immediately wrinkles her nose and frowns. "Nothing kaidou won't fix," she says confidently. "But, are you feeling up to it? I can—"

Hisana shakes her head. "No. It's fine." She forces herself to her feet. Bile climbs up her throat, but she swallows it down hard and fast.

The lieutenant nods. "I'm going to send a request for backup then be up."

"Got it."

Hisana, in fact, has "got" nothing. She's pretty sure that she's about to collapse from sheer exhaustion at any moment. Her shoulder feels as if it's about to fall off her body any second even though it appears to be firmly attached. Blood pounds in her head, and her heart skips every third beat. None of this is fine despite the never-ending loop in her head telling her that everything is fine.

Arriving at the skybox, Hisana finds the room more or less how she left it. The three men remain very dead, which is good. She glances down at the clay bottle, which is still dripping sake, and she smirks. The lieutenant killed three of the Barrel's most feared and reviled crime lords by way of experimentation, not believing that the venom would work. Masamitsu would be thrilled to know that he played a major part in this.

Although….

It's not like three more goons won't rise up and replace them tomorrow.

But….

Right now, at this moment, there are three clubs without a head, and that feels like a win.

Hisana picks up the rust-colored folders and glances out the window. The lieutenant looks to be finishing up her transmission. It's only a matter of time before this place is infested with shinigami. Hisana shivers at this thought, having had the pleasure of transitioning operations once the dogs have been called. It's always a bloodbath.

Catching the pale ghost of her reflection in the glass is all the convincing Hisana needs to get going. Grimly, she takes a half-step, and then—

Her breath catches.

Her blood runs cold.

It feels like a snake has been dropped across her shoulders and is about to strangle her.

"Gin Ichimaru," she gasps out, his name leaving her lips at the very moment he comes into view.

He dangles her files over her head and grins. "Just what we were looking for."

Hisana reaches to reclaim them, but it's no use. He has the advantage of height. "Give those back, Ichimaru."

The hell if she went through all this and doesn't get the fucking pat on the head at the end.

Unsurprisingly, he doesn't hand them back. He does nothing except hold them slightly out of reach. "You'll injure yourself further if you keep trying like that," he teases.

Hisana isn't sure what possesses her to squeeze her right hand into a fist and slug him in the gut. Maybe it was the infernal smile. Maybe it was that he was teasing her while being so open to being punched.

When he crouches down a little in pain, she finds her answer.

It was so obvious.

"That was for the kiss," she whispers into his ear, and she slips the files from his hands. She holds the files away from him and takes a step back.

Heart fluttering in her chest, she thinks she may have won this round.

She thinks wrongly.

Very wrongly.

Hisana feels the bones of fingers before she feels the flesh of them wrap around her wrist. It's cold; it's hard; it's almost inhuman. But, the second that she feels the hand, not the skeleton, she hears the crack of bone.

Her bones.

Her forearm shatters. The terror of the break enters her before the electric pain of the injury. She can almost trace the fractures as they creep along the whiteness of her radius and ulna. All of this happens instantaneously.

Almost as instantaneous is how the files fall from her hand and how Hisana catches them before they hit the ground. Because these fucking documents are why she's here, and she didn't lose what she did on this assignment to have the Fifth take this from her.

"Captain Aizen?" Her voice creaks from the blinding agony radiating down her arm, but she keeps the pain from her face when she meets his stare.

"Oh," he says, head tilting to the side. The overhead light shifts across the lenses of his glasses. "An Academy student? Out so far in the Rukon?" His grip remains, a fact that Hisana must see to know because her arm feels like a burning piece of meat.

"What is the meaning of this, Captain Aizen?" enters Lieutenant Ise's voice. She steps across the threshold to the room.

The captain releases Hisana's arm. "We received word from the Twelfth's monitoring system that there was increased activity in the Southern Twenty-Fifth." Smoothly, he takes the files from Hisana's hands despite her grip. "It seems that we have what we need, Nanao."

The lieutenant shakes her head and stretches her arm out for the files. "Those files are under custody of the Eighth, Captain Aizen."

He tips his head back, the light glinting white in his glasses. "I believe there's been a misunderstanding, Nanao. This mission has been reallocated to the Fifth."

"It's Lieutenant Ise, Captain Aizen," she replies, evenly, "and I have not received any notices transferring this assignment to another Squad." Her hand tenses. "The chain of custody of these documents, therefore, remains with the Eighth. To hand them over to the Fifth without the appropriate authorizations would be akin to evidentiary spoilation."

Captain Aizen hesitates. His gaze falls to her hand, and he frowns. "You're correct, Lieutenant. The paperwork for the transfer is still in process." He places the files in her hand.

"Come, Hisana," says Lieutenant Ise.

Without a moment's hesitation, Hisana falls into step behind the lieutenant.

Hisana waits until they are out of the Barrel before glancing over at Lieutenant Ise and grinning. "That was pretty badass."

The lieutenant returns her stare and grins. "Really?"

Hisana nods. "I mean, I thought the cascading kidou spells were the most badass thing until you did the kidou volleys, and then to top it off with that. That was great."

By "that," Hisana means the lieutenant telling Captain Aizen to go fuck himself... respectfully. However, that's too crass a thing to say to Lieutenant Ise. Hisana's already pushing it with "badass."

"You purifying those hollows was pretty 'badass.'" The lieutenant says the last word so primly that it makes Hisana chuckle.

They make their way to the tree where Hisana stored their items upon arriving at Ryuuboku. With one working hand, it takes her a minute to get all the shit together.

"Is your arm broken?" asks the lieutenant. "I don't remember that being the case when we left." Unprompted, she grabs hold of the arm and waves a hand over it. "Wow." Her eyes go wide. "It's shattered."

Hisana winces as the lieutenant attempts kaidou. "Yeah, I think the adrenaline helped mask how broken it was," she lies. No way anyone would buy Captain Aizen breaking her arm. He probably thought she was an interloper when he did it. Maybe her silence will appease him. She doesn't need any more problems.

"I think it should hold up until we get to the Fourth." Lieutenant Ise glances up at the sky.

Dawn is breaking. Hisana doesn't know how. It feels like they spent a whole month down in the Barrel, but, in reality, it was only a few hours.

"Do you think you can make it?" asks the lieutenant.

Hisana nods. Better now than later. She's got the advantage of adrenaline and endorphins now.

Then, they are off.

---

It's 2200 hours when they reach the Eighth. Hisana feels her color drain from her body. A chill wracks her skeleton. Sweat pours from her skin. Her bones hurt. All of them. Not just the broken and bruised ones.

But, Hisana's good at being one thing and pretending to be something else entirely.

The captain, however, takes one look at her and grins. "How did things go?"

"Fantastic," she says tightly. The spit in her mouth has gone so thick that she swallows it back with her whole throat.

Lieutenant Ise hands the captain the files. "We had some interference in the field with Squad Five."

"Sōsuke?" Captain Kyōraku's brows shoot up.

"Captain Aizen and Lieutenant Ichimaru specifically."

"Huh." The captain strokes his chin thoughtfully. "I don't know why they'd want to intervene in this. This mission has been a hot potato of sorts, passed around more times than—"

"Don't say it," warns the lieutenant.

He smirks. "Say what?"

"Something lewd."

"Lewd?" he scoffs. "In front of an Academy student?"

She narrows her eyes.

"Fine," he sighs and rubs his hands against his hakama. "How was the Academy student?"

"I'm standing right here," murmurs Hisana.

"Good. Very good. You should let her graduate early," says the lieutenant.

"Oomph," he groans. "Shouldn't have said that in front of her."

"Well, you should recommend it to the Head Master. She's got shikai. Usually, they graduate you shortly after you manifest shikai."

"They do?" Hisana asks, incredulous.

"So how bad was it?" the captain loudly digresses.

"Pretty bad. But, it was fun." The lieutenant smiles at Hisana.

"So much fun," says Hisana, faintly. "When do I get paid, again?"

The captain opens his mouth—probably to chastise her—but stops the moment his gaze chases to the floor.

Following his eye-line, Hisana glances down to see drops of blood beginning to pool next to her foot. It's at this moment, with the last of the endorphins evaporating from her system, that Hisana feels the brunt of her injuries. Really feels it. Deep down in her soul.

The last thing she sees before the curtain of black falls over her eyes is the captain's arm extending out.

He probably knew her blood pressure was tanking.

She likes to think he caught her. But, knowing him, he probably didn't.

The bastard.

---

Hisana's not surprised when she wakes up chained to a bed in the Fourth. She is surprised that she hasn't been there for a year. She's most surprised, however, at the fact that she's been through surgery and her arm is full of pins that poke through the skin.

The healers at the Fourth give her the all-clear to be discharged at noon. She isn't actually discharged until late afternoon. The gauzy golden light shimmers in the gloaming when she finally steps foot off Fourth soil.

Hisana manages to get to the bridge without heaving or collapsing once, which feels like a fucking miracle. Whatever sedatives the Fourth pumped her full of make her feel like she's been poisoned. Her head spins, her body is languorous, and it takes every molecule of willpower to keep her eyes from shutting and refusing to ever open again. And, that's just the hardship of moving. There's also the extreme nausea that feels like she's in a constant battle to force the knife of retching off her neck. Then, there's the vacillation between feverish heat that slathers her in sweat and punishes her joints and arctic chills that shake her to her core.

She's also still wearing her blood-stained yukata, a fact that comes into sharp focus when a few passersby gawk at the sight of her. Maybe she should've just gone to her dorm room and crawled under the covers. That was the sane thing to do.

Why is she here again?

"You look terrible!"

Before Hisana can turn to him, Byakuya is at her side, staring down at her, eyes wide. He is far closer than he should be. Far too close. His gaze is demanding as he looks her over, every inch of her subject to his scrutiny. When his eyes stop at her arm cradled in the sling, his fingers tease apart the opening so that he can peer inside at the damage.

It looks bad. Really bad. She's not surprised when his lips slope down and he starts at the sight of metal pins skewering her arm through like cooked meat.

"You should be at the hospital," he says.

Hisana shakes her head. "They said I was fit to discharge. I am supposed to return daily for treatments, and my arm will be in good repair by the end of the week."

Or so they say.

Her eyes flit from him to the waves bobbing below the bridge. He's too close to pretend that they're strangers, but she doesn't know what other script to follow with them so out in the open. There aren't many people streaming past right now so she takes comfort in that, cold as it may be.

"What happened?" he more so demands, not asks.

She can't tell him. Not the full truth. Not why her arm is in the state that it's in. That truth is in the process of being rewritten, repackaged, and repurposed into something less dangerous, something less damning, something more banal.

"The mission." This lie is beginning to take on the weight of truth with its repetition, but it still tastes false in her mouth when she says it.

She wishes she could tell him so that someone would know. So that she didn't feel crazy. But, would he even understand? Would he believe her or would he think that she had lost her grip? And, if he did believe her, wouldn't that place him in danger, too?

Like many other things in her life, the price of truth is too high. Lies have always come cheaper.

Byakuya looks to be in shock, his eyes rooted to the pins in her arm, to the goriest part of her mission, which wasn't even the hollow.

But, it was never about the hollows, was it?

It was about all the men cursed with wretched desire.

Hisana thinks he wants to touch her arm. She thinks he wants to check to see if it is real or an illusion. If it didn't hurt so fiercely, she probably would, too. It certainly doesn't look real. It looks un-real, which seems fitting since, only a few hours ago, it was in the process of becoming un-real.

"I could take you to the Study Chamber. There are hot springs there that could—"

"I'm not a shinigami," she says quickly.

He shakes his head. "You don't have to be, and I will—"

"I can't. We can't."

We can't be seen together in that way.

Byakuya loosens a heavy breath.

Quietly, Hisana watches him tense from the corner of her eye.

Even this is too close.

"There are hot springs on the estate's property. They're not as healing, but…." his voice softens until it tatters into nothing at the end.

But, it's the best he can do.

Feeling drugged, eyes heavy and heart barely beating, Hisana smiles at the realization that, no, Byakuya wouldn't be the type to take his own impotency well. Despite his greatest attempts at donning the Kuchiki raiment of stoic tranquility, Byakuya is fundamentally kinetic in every conceivable way. This fact is made only more obvious in her current state, which is that of being grounded to a near halt by the Fourth's efforts.

Byakuya's nature compels him to do something even when there is nothing for him to do. And, since Hisana doesn't mistake him for someone who makes soups and homemade goodies to discharge his anxieties (plural), the hot springs it is.

It could be worse, she thinks as she follows him, careful to keep her eyes on the path so that she doesn't collapse.

She really wants to curl into a ball in a dark small den and die. This is her preferred state at the moment, especially when the path starts to swim in front of her and the claw of nausea bears down on her chest.

By the time they reach the property line, Hisana revisits her prior assessment of "it could be worse," determining that she was, perhaps, a little too hopeful. Because when they finally stop, she is swaying on her feet. She's certain she's not about to faint. The experience at the Eighth excepted, she's not much of a fainter. No, fate has never been kind enough to offer her sanctuary in this way. She's much more likely to heave, a reflex that she hates.

Byakuya, however, seemingly draws a very different conclusion when he sweeps her up into his arms like she's nothing.

Actually, scratch the whole dying in a darkened den thing. She'll die here being held smothered in warmth and the fragrance of cherry blossoms and pine. Although, on second thought, that seems like it would be horribly traumatic for Byakuya. What with him hauling her corpse. Wouldn't want that.

And, so, she resolves not to die just yet.

Byakuya is surprisingly gentle with her upon arriving at the Kuchiki hot springs, a place that she had no idea even existed until now. The Kuchiki estate, however, is strange in this way. Theoretically, it should be a finite place, nestled around the Squad Six, and, yet, there is a vastness to it that defies comprehension. Maybe it's the change of perspective, being on the ground rather than the aerial vantage as depicted in most maps of Seireitei. Maybe the cartographers never had the opportunity to properly survey the estate to get a sense of scale. Maybe there's magic at play to protect the family, which expands or shrinks the landscape in unpredictable ways once you chance upon it.

"It's okay," she whispers, words slurring a little at the edges, when she feels his fingers plucking at the knots of her ties. She stops him with a light touch. "I can do this."

It'll be much faster that way.

Byakuya steps back, his face unguarded. Fear gleams in his eyes and smokes through his reiatsu. He doesn't know what to do. Or maybe he's seen enough tragedy to be wary of its clear shades and veneers.

As much as Hisana feels like death warmed over, she's not actually dying. Not yet, anyway. Although, the intensity of his stare is making her question herself.

Modestly, she unclothes and wades into the spring as gracefully as her leaden and lumbering body will allow. It feels good. Very good. And she sinks down a little, letting the water line rise to her chin.

Once settled, she glances sidelong at Byakuya, who remains fully clothed and very much dry. "Are you?" she half-asks the question, trying her hardest not to fall asleep on the spot.

"Do you?" he also half-asks, sounding flustered at the prospect of stripping down next to her.

Her lips crack at the strain of the grin lengthening them. "And you called me a prude," she teases him, not quite sure whether the pinkness of his cheeks is due to embarrassment or the heat from the springs.

Byakuya's eyes narrow, but his hands are already teasing apart one of the knots to his kosode.

As he was kind enough to do for her, Hisana turns around and stares into the billowing gray clouds rising up from the warm waters. At the wind's demand, the clouds stretch and swirl, thin and wispy at their ends, before scattering into a fine mist. She watches this dialogue between vapor and air until the darkness behind her eyes begins to creep into view. She squeezes them shut, and, when she blinks them back open, she finds Byakuya settling into the water.

He's chosen a spot several arm's lengths away, a fact that she finds amusing. She also takes amusement at just how prim and uncomfortable he looks, which reminds her of the look a cat gets after freshly falling into a lake.

Hisana supposes it's possible that Byakuya has never had to bathe communally. The servants' showers at the manor are communal, but the servants' baths are also in a facility separate from the house. This led her to believe that there must be private bathing areas for the family in the manor.

And yet… she wonders if it's not the nudity but her, specifically, that makes him uneasy.

Guess there's only one way to find out.

Not that Hisana needs much convincing to go to his side. She's exhausted, and the heat of the spring, while nice, spends her quickly. Also, the thought of bracing herself on jagged rock leaves a lot to be desired, especially when she could harass Byakuya instead.

He regards her approach with great apprehension. This apprehension blossoms into full-blown mortification when she molds herself against his chest. She hears the literal second his heart stops. His arm, which she ducked under to cuddle closer, goes rigid. Muscles flutter and shift against each place she touches, which turns him into a squirming puddle of flesh.

While Hisana finds this all incredibly charming, she hasn't the energy to tease him tonight. Instead, she melts into place, and her eyes slip shut. It has been so long since she's been held this way, skin to skin. Years, possibly?

Years and years.

"Tell me what you did while I was away," she says.

Byakuya adjusts his position against her, first stiffening, then, after a long few moments, his muscles release their tension. "Kidou," he answers as if his throat has gone dry.

"Hadō seventy-three?" she asks.

His heart starts beating again. She feels its quiver against her cheek.

"No. Bakudō fifty-eight."

"You've mastered sōren sōkatsui, then?" she teases him.

He chuckles. "No. But, it's more predictable, now." His voice goes from bright to concerned in no time flat.

He's found the other wounds, she thinks. She can almost see the moment his attention drifts in her mind's eye. It's the way the tide of his breathing becomes thready before stopping. It's the way her skin near the bitemarks prickles. It's the way his touch, even as featherlight as it is, traces the edges of the inflamed borders of the wound.

Hisana tries not to wince or flinch, thinking that her repose may convince him that this is nothing.

"What happened?" he asks, and she hears his heart clattering in his chest.

She doesn't know where to begin. She told him that it was a dead-drop, which was a lie, but it was the lie that the captain had supplied so was it really a lie? Sure, she knew it was a lie when she heard it. But, holy shit what a lie it was! She aspires to the audacity of a captain.

Fucking captains….

"So, it wasn't a dead-drop," she says, feeling compelled to correct the record.

Byakuya doesn't say a word; however, Hisana thinks, if he was at all capable of informality, he might say, 'No shit.' This definitely feels like a 'no shit' sort of silence, but he's being polite.

Polite for Byakuya.

"The goal was to get eyes on a hollow fighting ring."

"And, the Second—"

She cuts him off before he can finish the thought, "The Second tried, but they had bad intel."

"So, enlisting an Academy student was the solution?" He doesn't bother to hide his disbelief.

She's with him. This was reckless. But, she's starting to think all of the members of the Gotei 13 are reckless. Maybe it's a prequalification for the job. "Yeah. Not a lot of other shinigami had familiarity with the Southern Twenty-Fifth District." Such, however, is the problem with irrationally preferring nobles over all others.

"And you do?"

"I do. I spent a lot of time there on my way here." This is a lie by degree.

"You have a lot of familiarity with the criminals in that district?" Again, his disbelief rises.

"Yes." Finally, the truth. "If you're poor enough in Rukongai, your friends are bound to be criminals of one sort or another."

What she wants to add, but doesn't, is, 'If you're poor enough in Rukongai, you, too, are bound to be a criminal of one sort or another.'

Hisana would be a criminal now if she wasn't stuck here. Maybe she's still a criminal. Does one crime make you a criminal for life, or do you lose that title when you stop the criminal activities or when the statute of limitations on your last crime runs out? Hisana thinks it's the latter—that being a criminal is in the doing—but she thinks Byakuya would disagree.

Maybe it's none of those things. Maybe it's all of those things and more. If she had annihilated an entire city for her own gain, she'd probably consider herself a criminal until death. Annihilating entire cities, however, is not a crime that one really commits alone. That's a crime that tends to come with government fingerprints, but if, say, Soul Society were to do such a thing, is it even a crime?

Hisana thinks it is, but she's not so sure Byakuya would agree. Such blind spots are expected, though, since his family is at the heart of the governing apparatus of Soul Society.

Byakuya doesn't ask the next obvious question: Were you a criminal?

He probably doesn't want to know.

Or, he suspects and doesn't like the answer.

Instead, Byakuya asks, "What happened with the fighting ring?"

Hisana cracks an eye open just enough to glimpse Byakuya under her lashes. He's looking off into the distance, his fingers absently twisting the modified reiatsu that the Fourth used to promote the regeneration of skin and bone. He doesn't like the artificial reiatsu judging by the way he picks at it, but he's thoughtful enough to replace it with his own, which feels nice.

Really nice.

Her eyes close, and she inhales an easy breath. "Well, we confirmed there was one," she says.

"I noticed."

She grins. "Sarcasm? From Lord Byakuya?"

"It seems they let loose the monsters."

"It seems they were experimenting on the monsters."

He shifts under her. "What?"

"Someone was. Probably not the kids hosting the fights. Looks like they were battling the hollows to see which were the strongest. The winners got spliced together."

"Spliced?"

"Yeah. It wasn't a pleasant time, trust me."

"Seems that way."

Her grin widens. "The bites aren't that bad," she says. "The arm, though…." The arm hurts like a bitch, and it wasn't even the godforsaken hollow that did the damage, which somehow makes this injury worse.

"Is Lieutenant Ise well?"

"Not even a scratch."

"Kyōraku must have been pleased."

"He owes me money," teases Hisana.

"You did this for money?"

She doesn't know why he sounds so surprised and indignant at this. "Of course."

He sighs, and his arms pull her closer. Hisana isn't sure what is going through his head, but his reiatsu feels… contrite?

Maybe the drugs are fucking with her senses again.

"Enough about me," she says, feeling her thoughts beginning to slip into the inky void of exhaustion. "Talk."

"About what?"

"Bakudō fifty-eight. We don't do a lot of bakudō in class. Tell me everything."

He does, she thinks. She doesn't hear much of it, though, before sleep takes her.

When she wakes the next morning, she is not in her dorm room, a fact that sets off an alarm in her head. Blinking back the sleep from her eyes, however, reveals that the room is not wholly unfamiliar. Hisana turns her head to the side and finds Byakuya sitting at his writing desk, back to her.

She closes her eyes and breathes easy. Everything still hurts. Her limbs still feel like lead. Her head still pounds, and it's still hard to drive back the urge to sleep until the world ends. But, she's safe, at least. No existential risks except maybe Captain Kuchiki, but she doesn't sense him anywhere close.

Forcing her eyes open, she rolls her head a little to see the pillow next to her looks slept in, and she grins. She doesn't think—not for one second—that Byakuya did anything improper, which is a first. She's woken up in this position and reached the opposite conclusion on more than one occasion.

Glancing down, Hisana finds herself in a clean underrobe. Vaguely, she remembers him helping her dress. Getting the arm taken care of being a real team effort is about the extent of her memory.

Carefully, she pulls herself up, bracing her weight on her good arm, and looks around. When her gaze lands on Byakuya's desk, she smiles.

"You kept the ball?"

That infernal 'Bounce Back to Mental Health' ball. They were everywhere on campus for an entire semester. Behind random doors. Lining the halls of the dorm. Littering the courtyard. Rolling across the floors of the dojos. All of the lecture halls had at least ten of them scattered throughout at any given time. The writing desk that Hisana shares with Tsuna also managed to accumulate ten of them, and she still isn't sure how.

Byakuya glances at her from over his shoulder. "You gave it to me," he says as if it's a prized possession.

Her smile lengthens.

"Tea?" he asks, handing her a cup from his desk. He waves a hand over the top, which causes the tea inside to bubble.

"I see that your offers for tea are genuine," teases Hisana as she leans forward to take the cup.

"Sad that you would ever doubt my sincerity," he teases back.

"Yes, because the bedroom is a respectable place to enjoy tea."

"Naturally."

"And lying on the bed is also a very conducive way to drink it with company."

He smirks at her. "I stayed at the barracks last night," he digresses, but not too far off topic.

Hisana glances down at the pillow that says otherwise. "Is that right?"

He gives her a knowing glance, one that makes her wonder why he would tell so obvious a lie. Maybe it's for propriety's sake so that she doesn't worry that something untoward happened. Or maybe the mere act of sleeping next to one another is untoward in Seireitei. Nobles are strangely obsessed with optics in a way that those from Rukongai cannot afford to be.

Hisana takes a sip, and she immediately puckers at the taste. "What's in this?"

"Medicine," he says, turning back to his desk.

Of course. The Captain, the Lieutenant, and Byakuya probably suffer enough injuries to keep the local apothecary in business through their patronage alone. It's also possible the family employs their own apothecary and herbalist. She wouldn't be surprised.

"When is your appointment at the Fourth?" he asks.

"Noon." Sudden panic sets in, and her gaze snaps to the door. The golden light brightening the sliver of space between the door and the casing looks morning sun. "What time is it now?" she asks.

"A little past nine," he says.

"And the day?"

Byakuya cuts her a concerned look. "Thursday."

Hisana exhales a long breath. "Sorry, it's been a while since I slept that hard."

"You slept like the dead, indeed."

Hisana raises a brow. "I thought you were at the barracks last night."

A corner of his mouth slants up just before he returns to the papers on his desk.

Absently, Hisana takes another sip and frowns into her cup.

"You should rest."

She agrees. Her body does, too. Even after the effects of the sedatives from the Fourth have worn off, her stupor remains unchanged. Her eyelids fall heavy, threatening to never open again with each blink, and her mind is slipping. "You're right."

Before she can pull herself to her feet, Byakuya stops her cold with a quiet, "Stay."

"My lord," she begins, but he won't have it.

"No. Stay. My father and grandfather are on assignment. There's no one here but staff, and they don't care."

Hisana glances back down at the bed. It looks so tempting. "You're too kind, my lord, but—"

"It's nice having you here."

"I'm not distracting?"

He turns his head to look at her. "No. Never."

"Never?" she mocks, brows lifted.

He grins at that and glances away. "It would be more distracting to worry over what new trouble you've found your way into next."

She laughs. "I don't think there's much more trouble I could find."

"I've thought the same and was surprised at the answer." Byakuya pauses, lips parted, as if he wants to say more so she waits for him to find his words. "You may rest here while I'm gone today." There is a seriousness in his tone that she wasn't expecting.

"My lord," she scoffs, "do you come to the bridge when I tell you I won't make it?"

"No."

"Then, why would I stay if you're not here?"

"I won't be able to meet you on the bridge tonight. I have an examination this evening. But, I'd like to see you once it's over."

He's worried. Very worried. And for that, she feels sorry. "My lord, I don't want to inconven—"

"It isn't an inconvenience. On the contrary." He appears to startle at this confession, at the force with which he says it. This surprise gives way until all that remains is a sincere look of defeat.

"I would like to have someone to come home to," he admits, wistfully.

"That's not fair of you," she says after a few heavy breaths, "attacking me in this way when I'm already on death's door."

"I never said I played fairly."

She laughs. "Will you stay here or at the barracks tonight?"

He grins at her.

"I won't consent to stay the night if you aren't here."

"I'll stay, then." He gives her a long onceover, then says, "Rest, now, Hisana."

She nods. "Thank you, my lord."

She sinks back down into the bed. In less than a minute, sleep is on her once more.