Eyes of the Soul

by operation meteor

Passing beyond the veil, Itachi finds himself in an afterlife that is far from the hellfire he'd steeled himself for. With a chance encounter involving a pervy sage, a Flash Goddess and a healer whose angelic appearance hides more than a hint of steel, the bane of the Uchiha Clan finds a chance at a second life... and perhaps redemption. Slow burn. M for language and violence.

29. Chapter 29

Author's Notes: Hello there! Hope everyone's new year is going well so far. Funnily enough, July of this year will mark the 5 year anniversary of when I first started posting chapters for this story. All things considered, I'm happy with the progress. Considering how long I ultimately planned for the story to be before I started putting it to page, I'm honestly surprised that I've made it this far. Almost doesn't feel real, to tell you the truth. And for those of you that I can already hear screeching about how long it's taken to reach this point, I'll say this; long-form storytelling's always been my thing. Just check out the Gundam Wing/Seed crossover series that I've been working on for the past nearly 12 years now. That one's still ongoing, and it will be many years yet before it's finished. Same goes for this one. In fact, out of the three stories that I'm working on at present, I fully expect this one to be completed last given how far out I went in the storyboarding stage before even beginning the writing or posting. So, if you still plan on sticking around, just know that you're in for a very long haul.

On a related note, I was wondering if I should do something to mark the 5-year occasion in the next chapter. Q&A, a fun little omake, or anything else of the sort. If any of you have ideas on that, I'd love to hear them.

Enjoy!

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Innocent Days

A few months later…

Winter, early in the new year…

131 years before Rukia Kuchiki's arrival in Karakura Town

"And here I was worried that they'd call things off today," Yoruichi remarked as she and Itachi passed through the front gate of the Kuchiki Clan's Seireitei estate after the guards had finished making a show of examining and returning the Soul Reapers' Zanpakutōs.

Itachi held out his left hand and waited a few seconds for a snowflake to land on his palm. "Because of some light snowfall? Seems like cancelling Byakuya's birthday party for something so minor would be a bit much."

Yoruichi shrugged. "Well, the clouds yesterday made it look like it'd be worse than it actually is. Nobles might talk a big game about toughing things out, but most of them are soft when push comes to shove. I've seen parties get sunk because of a rain squall that passed within five minutes. Not that I mind being wrong here; I'm always down for an excuse to dine on Ginrei's dime."

Itachi smirked. "Be honest. The real reason you wanted to come along wasn't for the food. You're here to see the look on Byakuya's face when he realizes that I've made you my 'plus one' for today's festivities."

Yoruichi winked mischievously. "Guilty as charged! Come on; he really should've seen it coming when he gave you the invite."

Itachi chuckled. "Well, if he didn't, he'll have only himself to blame. He could always kick me out in retaliation."

Yoruichi leaned against his right shoulder, her arm looping through his as she moved to kiss Itachi on the cheek. "He won't, and you know it. You saw how awkward he was when he presented the invitation to you in the middle of the barracks courtyard. He worked up all his courage to give that to you in person. It was honestly adorable! No way in hell he'll send you packing."

"I hope you're right," said Itachi as he glanced down at his dark blue kimono, "I would hate to have gotten all dressed up for nothing."

Yoruichi made a show of swaying her hips back and forth, making her dark purple kimono and the golden embroidered butterfly patterns on it ripple. "Well, if we get sent packing early, we can always head back to my quarters. I got all dressed up for you, Itachi, not the party… and this outfit's much easier to take off than put on."

Itachi smiled as he imagined the kimono slipping down her lithe frame and onto the floor. "I wouldn't be opposed to helping you out with that, but why don't we at least try to play the part of good guests a while before looking for an excuse to leave?"

"Oh, alright," Yoruichi conceded with a faux sigh before smiling and nodding towards the reason why they were here to begin with, "I guess it'd be rude to leave the birthday boy hanging. Oh, look; he's still wearing that ribbon. I wonder…"

"Maybe let him keep his favorite ribbon this time," Itachi suggested, "We're here to pay respects today, not prank him. Why don't we save the pranks for the next training session?"

"Aw, but he makes it so much fun!" Yoruichi protested, "He's so easy to rile up, I just can't help it. Come on, Itachi…"

Itachi chuckled again. "As much as I might enjoy watching you entertain yourself with him, I'd like to give him a reprieve from our torment today. Please, Yoruichi, restrain yourself this time. If not for Byakuya's sake, then perhaps mine?"

Yoruichi rolled her eyes in an exaggerated manner before smiling again and squeezing Itachi's hand. "Fine… but only for you, Itachi."

Itachi inclined his head. "Thank you."

"You're going to owe me for that," Yoruichi remarked slyly, "I can already think of at least one way you'll be paying me back tonight."

"I'm already trembling," Itachi replied with a smirk.

Slowly making their way through the finely-dressed crowd, they eventually caught Byakuya's eye. The boy looked well as far as Itachi was concerned; his black and white kimono fit him as if it were tailor made, and given that this was the Kuchiki Clan, it probably was. He was at present surrounded by a gaggle of young women, all clearly from noble families if their expensive kimonos and the crests emblazoned upon them were anything to go by. It was attention that Byakuya did not seem entirely comfortable with; while he maintained the regal bearing that one would expect of an heir to the Kuchiki Clan, the subtle clenching of his jaw combined with the occasional furtive looks in his eyes were all the cues Itachi needed to know that the young noble desperately needed a reprieve.

"Look at him," Yoruichi whispered with glee, "Poor boy's practically begging you to save him!"

"Seeing as he's the star of today's show, I'm not sure how much help I'll be to him," Itachi replied, "I can't exactly extract him from his own birthday party. Pretty sure Captain Kuchiki would frown upon that."

Yoruichi shrugged. "Probably."

Finally reaching Byakuya, Itachi politely inclined his head in greeting. "You're looking well, Byakuya. Happy birthday."

Yoruichi grinned. "Hey there, Byakuya! Happy birthday, kiddo!"

Byakuya bowed towards Itachi in greeting before shooting an irked look at Yoruichi. "Thank you for accepting my invitation, Itachi. I'm honored you could make it… along with your plus one."

Before the boy could react, Yoruichi reached out to playfully mess with his hair. "Is that how you were taught to greet a Captain? I thought your old man raised you better than that! Do I need to go find Captain Kuchiki and tell him that his grandson's not upholding the family's reputation for impeccable etiquette?"

"You're one to talk about etiquette," Byakuya grumbled as one of his hands instinctively went to his ribbon, although Yoruichi had thankfully kept her word to Itachi and left it securely tied to the boy's head.

Yoruichi chuckled. "Would it kill you to loosen up a bit? Come on, Byakuya; a day like today's meant for fun, so pull the stick out of your ass for once!"

Byakuya folded his arms. "Not all of us nobles can be as carefree as you. Some of us actually care about our reputations."

Yoruichi made a dismissive brushing motion. "Oh, get off your high horse. Learning to relax and enjoy life isn't going to hurt your precious reputation. If anyone thinks less of you for it, then their opinion's not worth worrying about."

"She's not wrong, Byakuya," Itachi chimed in as he gestured at all the guests milling about estate's front lawn, "I'm sure no one here would mind if let your hair down a bit today, if you will."

The boy's right hand went towards his ribbon as he shot a suspicious look at Yoruichi. "You're not trying to cover for her going after my ribbon again, are you?"

Yoruichi smirked. "Boy, I've really made you paranoid, haven't I? Ease up, Byakuya. I'll play nice today. Itachi insisted on it."

Byakuya's eyes narrowed. "You're obeying him? Why? You're his superior officer; he has no power over you."

"Because there's more to the two of us than mere rank suggests," Yoruichi replied as she winked at Itachi before leaning over to playfully peck him on the cheek.

Byakuya seemed a bit taken aback by the display of affection, though Itachi wasn't all that concerned by the boy's reaction. Instead, his gaze surreptitiously darted about the yard as he studied the other guests. Sure enough, more than a few of the assembled aristocrats were eyeing him and Yoruichi with keen interest, with several of them already whispering to their companions conspiratorially.

This is just the beginning, Jigoku no Joō reminded him, I know you're not looking forward to dealing with the noble gossip game, but it's unavoidable.

I'm aware of that. Yoruichi and I made our choice, and we'll deal with the consequences together.

If any of them go too far for our liking, we can always kill them… or make them wish that we did. I'm all for frying some of these arrogant twats.

I'd rather refrain from that, though I do appreciate the sentiment.

Suit yourself. I'll keep that offer on the table.

Turning his attention back to Byakuya, Itachi saw the boy clear his throat. "I see. Well, if things are like that between you… then I wish you both happiness and good fortune. I'm sure my father and grandfather will, too. You're both close friends of my family now, so anyone who insults you in our presence will answer to us."

Yoruichi smiled and inclined her head, catching the young man off guard with the sincerity of the gesture. "Thank you, Byakuya. That means a lot, coming from you."

Itachi gave the noble a small smile as well. "We appreciate your words, though you need not worry on our account. We're both more than capable of handling ourselves in a crowd like this, after all."

Byakuya shook his head. "I insist. You're my teachers, and I won't let anyone slander you two."

"Speaking of teaching," Yoruichi remarked, "Itachi, I seem to recall you picking up a new move or two from my grandfather during our vacation. I'm sure Byakuya would love a demonstration."

Byakuya perked up at that. "You mean you trained with Lord Kiemon Shihōin? The Desert Whirlwind himself?"

Itachi raised an eyebrow as he looked at Yoruichi. "Desert Whirlwind? I wasn't aware that your grandfather had such a moniker… though I suppose it does suit him."

Yoruichi shrugged. "It's a nickname that the rest of the Seireitei's aristocracy gave him, both for his swordsmanship and his general nature. He's much less… refined than the crowd here is used to. The fact that he's the man my grandmother decided to marry just makes the other nobles even more wary of him. You know her reputation in the Soul Society's elite; in their eyes, what kind of man would be crazy enough to wed the Desert Witch?"

Itachi chuckled. "A wild and unpredictable one, no doubt. Those true really were meant for each other."

"I'm sure they'd appreciate you saying that," Yoruichi replied before nodding towards the back of the estate, "Why don't you take Byakuya somewhere with a little privacy? Give him a chance to study the moves you learned from my grandfather."

Itachi turned to Byakuya. "Would you like that? I wouldn't want to take you away from your own party if it's not your wish."

Byakuya eagerly nodded. "Yes, please. I can get away for a few minutes. Father and grandfather wouldn't mind… at least, they won't if it's with you."

The boy's probably desperate for a bit of space given all the attention his fellow nobles have been giving him.

He should be used to it, though I can understand the need for a break.

Itachi looked at Yoruichi. "What about you?"

"I'll go pay my respects to Captain Kuchiki," Yoruichi answered with a smile as she licked her lips, "and raid the buffet table. They've got a nice spread of seafood over there, and I'm not about to let it go to waste. You two go have some fun."

She sauntered off without further ado, leaving Itachi and Byakuya to their own devices. The young noble nodded before gesturing at a stone footpath that led to the yard Itachi and Yoruichi had trained him in during their previous sessions, and the two of them set off.

"What was it like?" Byakuya asked excitedly, "Training with Lord Kiemon, I mean? I've never seen him fight before, but my grandfather speaks highly of his abilities."

Itachi nodded. "As well your grandfather should. Lord Kiemon's an exceptional swordsman. Were he a Soul Reaper, I imagine that he'd be a strong contender for the title of Kenpachi. At the very least, I think he would give Squad Eleven's current Captain a serious run for his money."

Byakuya's brow furrowed. "Maybe, but… well, my grandfather says that Captain Starmont is a brutal fighter. I don't think anyone should challenge him lightly."

"One should not challenge any Captain lightly," Itachi noted, "although Lord Kiemon strikes me as one who would relish such a fight."

Byakuya shuddered. "I know that's his reputation, but… well, I wouldn't want to cross blades with the current Kenpachi without a good reason. Maybe that's cowardly, but…"

Itachi reached over to place a reassuring hand on Byakuya's shoulder. "Not at all. That's a rational response. You respect and fear a powerful opponent, as well you should. Remember this, Byakuya; fear is useful. I'm not referring to instilling fear in your enemies, though that can certainly bring advantages to you if properly done. The fear that we each feel as individuals is best thought of as a survival instinct, one that we would be foolish to ignore. It lets us know when a particular foe or situation is perilous and signals for us to give it the utmost focus. Fear can paralyze, but it can also motivate and sharpen us. The key is to recognize that fear, understand the source of it, and then keep a cool head so both your mind and instincts can guide you to the best course of action. The decision of whether or not to engage a powerful opponent is one that should not be made lightly. If you take your fear seriously, then you can use it as a means aid your tactical assessment as to whether or not said opponent is one that you honestly believe you can overcome. There's value in being able to understand when a risk is worth taking and when it's better to withdraw and regroup."

Byakuya slowly nodded. "That makes sense, but… well, not a lot of nobles seem to think like that. I think my grandfather and father would understand that, though. Still… how do you know where to draw the line? What's the difference between a prudent retreat and outright cowardice?"

Itachi shook his head. "It's difficult to give a single answer for that. Fear is as much a situational emotion as anything else, so how we best evaluate it can be dictated by circumstance."

"Take it case by case, then," Byakuya surmised.

Itachi nodded. "I'd say that's a good way to put it."

When they reached the yard where their past training sessions had taken place, Itachi gestured for Byakuya to stay off to the side while he took center stage. "One thing that can help us overcome fear and recognize when we have the capacity to challenge what scares us is knowing what tools and techniques are in our arsenal. Suffice to say that a swordsman as experienced and skilled as Lord Kiemon has a quite a bit to offer when it comes to technique, and I consider myself nothing if not an attentive student. I can't promise that you'll be able to perform all of these techniques, Byakuya, but understanding them at least gives you a foundation to build off of in your training."

Byakuya smiled, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Right. Come on, I'm ready! What move are you going to show me first?"

Itachi smirked. "One that I imagine you will spend years, if not decades, trying to get right. Lord Kiemon considers it amongst his crowning achievements, and I fully support the sentiment. Watch carefully, Byakuya."

He placed his right hand over the handle of his sword while nudging it a few centimeters upward with his left. Focusing his spirit energy in his arms, Itachi allowed his mind to travel back to the fight with the last wraith where he'd first seen Kiemon use this move...

…and had first learned to copy it thanks to the Sharingan.

In the blink of an eye, he drew his Zanpakutō, and the air around him howled as Itachi weaved a veritable sphere of steel around himself. Several blindingly-fast strikes from multiple angles all converged on a single point, each one so swift that they generated gusts of wind that sent freshly-fallen snow flying in all directions. A good clump of the cold white powder hit Byakuya square in the chest, but the boy didn't pay it the slightest bit of attention. His eyes widened in awe as Itachi lowered his blade, utterly transfixed by what he had just witnessed.

"Soul King's eyes…." Byakuya murmured in awe as Itachi turned to face him, "What… what was that?"

"One Mind is what Lord Kiemon called it," Itachi answered as he sheathed his sword, "He said it was the culmination of pure technique honed and refined over many years of training and live combat."

"And you picked it up just by training with him for a few weeks?" Byakuya asked in astonishment.

"The basics of it," Itachi replied, "My version of the technique can't hold a candle to Lord Kiemon's. Not yet, at least."

How modest of you. If I recall correctly, the old man's regard for your performance in that technique was considerably higher.

Well, seeing as I cheated in how I learned the technique, I don't think it's right to be overly boastful.

I'd hardly consider using the Sharingan to be cheating. Not for an Uchiha, anyway. That's just employing the gifts of your bloodline.

Perhaps. I think we can both agree that Byakuya doesn't need the explicit truth, though. His grandfather may know about the Sharingan, but he has honored our agreement to not spread the knowledge further. I have no desire to bring Byakuya in on the secret.

You don't trust him?

It's not that. He's still young; he might not truly appreciate the need for such discretion. As a child of privilege, he may not understand the potential consequences of certain parties learning of this gift.

Fair enough.

He watched as Byakuya ran off. "I want to try it. Wait here, I'll go get my practice sword!"

Itachi smiled in amusement. The boy's skills were improving with each passing lesson, but if Byakuya thought that he was ready for one of Kiemon's deadliest techniques, he had another thing coming.

No harm in humoring him a bit. It is his birthday, after all.

Byakuya returned a minute or two later, wooden sword slung over his shoulder. "Okay, I'm ready!"

Itachi looked him over for a moment before gesturing for Byakuya to take his place. "Let's see it, then. You can't do the draw properly with a wooden sword, but the swings are still possible."

Stepping off to the side, Itachi waited patiently as Byakuya warmed himself up with a few practice swings. Part of him wished that Yoruichi had stuck with them rather than heading off on her own; he was sure that she would have enjoyed what was coming.

"Alright," said Byakuya after a few minutes, his brow furrowed in concentration, "I think I'm ready."

Itachi nodded. "Go for it."

The boy took a deep breath before making a series of wild swings. Itachi resisted the urge to shake his head; Byakuya was trying to recreate the illusion of the storm of steel that One Mind could conjure without paying much attention to actual technique. Still, the young man's enthusiasm was commendable, though Itachi couldn't see it ending well here. Sure enough, Byakuya overextended. Losing his balance, the boy's arms windmilled frantically before he wound up falling flat on his rear.

The young noble blinked in confusion. "What happened? That wasn't what you did at all."

"You didn't really think that you'd master one of Lord Kiemon's prized techniques in a single afternoon, did you?" Itachi asked with a smirk.

Byakuya sighed. "No, but… I shouldn't have been that bad."

"Consider it a lesson," Itachi suggested as he stepped forward and offered the boy his hand, "You tried to recreate the technique superficially without learning the essence of it. Wild flailing was all you accomplished. You're not ready for this move yet, Byakuya, and there's no shame in acknowledging that. Recognize what you're currently capable of, and think of this move as a goal to strive for."

Byakuya nodded as Itachi pulled him to his feet. "I will… though I think it's going to be a long time before I can pull that move off."

"Well, there's plenty that you can learn along the way," Itachi remarked, "One Mind is hardly Lord Kiemon's only move, after all. There are plenty of simpler techniques in his arsenal, and they're quite effective in the right hands. I think you'd find them within your grasp, or at least close to it."

"Well, what are you waiting for, then?" Byakuya asked with an eager smile, "Show me so I can start learning them!"

Such an earnest pupil. It's honestly quite adorable!

I'm not sure he'd appreciate being called 'adorable'.

No, he's a bit too stiff for that. Still, it's touching. Both him and you, I mean. Make the most of this, will you?

I intend to.

Itachi raised his sword above his head. "Pay close attention, Byakuya. I'll be drilling this one into you come our next session, so consider this homework."

With the boy's gaze locked on him, Itachi brought his blade down in a swift and powerful strike. He then immediately brought the blade up before swinging it down again in rapid succession, with the power behind both blows sending further clumps of snow flying out to the left and right.

Itachi then lowered his sword and turned to Byakuya. "Easier to follow, right?"

"It was," Byakuya answered, "What's that one called?"

"Ichimonji: Double," Itachi replied, "Two simple but quick and powerful strikes in rapid succession designed to bash your way through an opponent's defenses. Against a skilled and prepared adversary, it likely won't have much effect, but launching it at the start of a clash against a lesser foe can end a fight practically the moment it begins. The trick is assuming the starting stance quickly and then immediately launching the attack, then swiftly making the follow-up strike. Simple in theory, but in practice… well, why don't I let you find out firsthand?"

Stepping aside again, Itachi once more let Byakuya take center stage. As his pupil made a first attempt at the move, Itachi allowed himself a small smile.

I should've done this with Sasuke, he thought, I didn't give him nearly enough attention and training back in my first life. I know his skills developed just fine in my absence, but even so… I can't help but wish I'd done more. Byakuya… I'll give you what I couldn't give Sasuke. Who knows? Maybe you two will meet some day, and I can look on as you both demonstrate just how far you'll have come by then. Yes…

…I would like that very much.

….

Several months later…

Late spring…

Standing over Jiraiya with her sword drawn, Lisa looked rather apprehensive. "Are you sure about this?"

Jiraiya, whose sleeve was rolled up to bare his left arm before the Lieutenant's blade, nodded at the girl who sat across from him. "If I'm going to take Nanao's lessons to the next level, then she needs to gain experience in applying Kaidō to actual wounds. A controlled setting like this is a good way to accomplish that."

Lisa glanced over her shoulder at Kyōraku, who was looking on in mild amusement from atop a cushion on the other side of the room. "Captain…"

Kyōraku waved dismissively. "If Jiraiya's okay with it, then go ahead, Lisa. He clearly trusts your skill with the blade, and so do I."

Jiraiya smiled. "Look at it this way; if Nanao can't heal it, I can. All I'm asking for is a shallow cut, not for you to hack the whole arm off."

"I don't think even Captain Unohana could heal that," Nanao noted with an eerily casualness, "Well, she couldn't grow it back for you, anyway."

Lisa looked over at Nanao with no small amount of concern. "You're awfully calm about this, Nanao."

"It's just going to be a little bit of blood," the little girl remarked before smiling at Squad Eight's recently promoted Seventh Seat, "Jiraiya has plenty of that. He's a tough guy, so he can handle it. Aren't you, Jiraiya?"

Maybe getting her into healing studies so early was a bad idea, Jiraiya mused, Nanao's already a prodigy when it comes to spells. I guess we could have waited until she got older to introduce her to Kaidō… nah, too late now. For better or worse, she's into it, and she's already showing a serious knack for it. Better for her to learn healing early; never know when it might save her life. I just hope that exposure to this sort of thing at such a young age doesn't impact her in a bad way…

Still, he couldn't let his apprehension show, so he flashed Nanao a cocky grin. "You know it!"

"Come on, Lisa," Kyōraku prodded from the background, "Let's get on with this."

Lisa sighed. "Alright, then. Jiraiya, you ready?"

Jiraiya nodded, internally bracing himself. "Yup."

Lisa's eyes narrowed as her gaze locked on Jiraiya's arm, and there was a flash of steel as she made her swing. Despite the speed of the strike, her fine control ensured that the long cut which quickly appeared on Jiraiya's left forearm was not only shallow but completely avoided any major arteries. It stung, eliciting a wince and brief hiss from the Legendary Sanin, but Jiraiya had taken much worse hits in the past than this.

Ignoring the pain, Jiraiya nodded at his pupil while Lisa grabbed a clothe to wipe the blood from her blade. "Alright, Nanao. You know what to do."

The girl leaned forward, eyeing the wound with an almost innocent curiosity before getting to work. She placed her two delicate and tiny hands over the injury, and sea-green energy emanated out from them to encompass the wound. The stream of blood seeping from the injury rapidly ceased, and the cut began to close with remarkable speed.

Just as I suspected, Jiraiya thought with a satisfied smile, Nanao, you really are a natural at this.

Ever since Jiraiya had broached the topic of inducting Nanao into their secret healer training program with Unohana a few years ago, he'd been providing the young girl with periodic instruction in the hopes of eventually reaching this point. So as not to disrupt her ongoing Kidō studies, he'd spaced out the lessons and had primarily focused on making sure that she had a solid grasp of the theoretical before initiating her in the more practical aspects of healing. Her innate skill in Kidō meant that the refined manipulation of spirit energy that Kaidō required came as second nature to her, but despite her prodigious abilities Jiraiya had been somewhat reluctant to push her to the next stage. He chalked it up to wanting to preserve her youthful innocence a bit longer, yet Jiraiya knew that he couldn't let the sentiment hold things up forever. Sweet little Nanao was insatiably curious and eager to test her newfound knowledge, and Jiraiya knew that the best he, Lisa and Kyōraku could do was to provider her a controlled environment where she could do just that.

Looking back at his commanding officer, Jiraiya saw Kyōraku's eyes gleaming from beneath the rim of his hat as he watched Nanao do her work. "Well, now… impressive."

Lisa knelt next to Nanao and put a hand on the little girl's shoulder. "Good job, Nanao. Captain Unohana would be proud."

Nanao smiled as the energy faded from her hands, leaving a pinkish line of scar tissue where an open wound had been on Jiraiya's arm mere seconds later. "Really?"

Jiraiya carefully poked at the healed wound and felt only the tiniest bit of pain, and he imagined even that would pass in short order. His skin was somewhat tender there, but he didn't feel as though there was any danger of the wound reopening. Give it a few days, and most likely even this faint scar would fade away altogether.

The former Shinobi smiled as he reached over to pat Nanao atop the head. "Yeah, she really would. In fact, I think I'll head over to Squad Four's barracks and show her right now."

He got up and stretched before turning to his Captain. "You don't mind, do you?"

Kyōraku shrugged. "You've already wrapped up your duties for today, and I think we can call Nanao's lesson a success. What you do with the rest of the day is your call. If you're going to visit Squad Four, then give Captain Unohana my regards."

"Tell her I said thanks!" Nanao chirped, "I'm learning a lot from what she taught you."

Jiraiya nodded. "I'm sure she'll appreciate that."

"Try not to cause any trouble over there," Lisa remarked with a wry smile, "If you can help it, anyway."

Jiraiya chuckled. "No promises!"

Sliding the door shut behind him, he strolled out into the courtyard of the Squad Eight barracks. The air was alive with the shouts and cries of Soul Reapers going through Zanjutsu exercises, with a pleasant light breeze lending a cool balm to what had been a very warm spring day. Casting his gaze towards the west, Jiraiya saw the horizon take on a mix of orange and red hues as late afternoon slowly gave way to early evening. Nodding in greeting to those Soul Reapers that acknowledged him as he passed, Jiraiya strode quickly through the courtyard and out into the wider Seireitei, immediately setting course for the Squad Four barracks. It would have been easy to Flash Step his way across the rooftops to hasten his arrival, but Jiraiya was in no hurry.

Winding his way along the streets of the Seireitei, occasionally waving as he caught sight of a familiar face or two amongst the passersby, Jiraiya smiled in contentment. Life had been good ever since his and Itachi's return from their northern expedition. There had been no word regarding sightings of Kurama since that mission, and no news was good news in Jiraiya's eyes; it meant that the grouchy old fox really was trying to keep a low profile. Given his reputation as a walking calamity in the Shinobi World, the fact that he wasn't blazing a swath of destruction across the Soul Society spoke volumes as to how much the Nine Tailed Fox had changed.

Naruto really did mellow that beast out, Jiraiya mused with a soft chuckle, not that Kurama will ever admit it, of course.

Even without having to worry about the Nine Tailed Fox, Jiraiya had kept plenty busy since that trip up north. Squad Eight was being given more than their share of fieldwork, and Jiraiya's part in it had been no small factor in his promotion. It was amusing to think that he now outranked Itachi, and Jiraiya had lightly ribbed him on that when he'd first informed his friend of his elevation, but it hadn't gone beyond that. Itachi could've sought out his own promotion, and Jiraiya had no doubt that Yoruichi would be more than willing to elevate him further, but he knew that advancement through the ranks wasn't what the Uchiha Clan's disgraced prodigy really wanted right now. Jiraiya's ambitions were clear; climb up the ladder of the Thirteen Court Guard Squads and reach a position where he could enact meaningful change. Itachi's journey did not revolve around such concrete goals, those. His ambitions were much harder to grasp because they revolved around something intangible; finding peace with his past and learning to forgive himself for his darkest act. Jiraiya didn't envy Itachi the challenging road he'd set himself on.

Still, at least Itachi wasn't walking that road alone now. It hadn't taken long at all for word to spread that Squad Two's Captain was now romantically involved with her Eighth Seat, and Jiraiya had been elated at the news. True, he'd known that Itachi and Yoruichi had been together for quite some time before now, but the couple had clearly reached a new stage and now wanted their relationship to be public knowledge. Jiraiya smiled as he fondly recalled the moment when Itachi had told him of his long-overdue confession to Yoruichi. A fresh round of drinks had definitely been in order afterwards, and the smile on Itachi's face as the two of them downed their celebratory sake had been a wonderful thing to behold.

Took him long enough, Jiraiya thought, I can't wait to see what the future holds for those two. Itachi, you are one lucky bastard!

While Jiraiya certainly didn't begrudge Itachi's relationship with Yoruichi, it did inspire more than a hint of melancholy as his mind inevitably turned to his own rocky romantic history. Of late, his thoughts often became filled with images of falling snow surrounding a certain winged warrior woman, and Jiraiya could not help but imagine what might've been or could be. It had been roughly two years now since that incredible night with Gunnr, and depending on the mood it felt like it had either happened just yesterday or a lifetime ago. There had been no word from the Mistress of War since then, though that shouldn't have been surprising; the Valkyries of the north did not reach out to Soul Reapers unless possessed by extraordinary need. Did she still think of him as often as he of her, or had she relegated him to being just a fond memory? Jiraiya wanted to believe in the former, but it was only natural for him to worry that it might be the latter.

Give yourself a bit more credit, Jinsei no Kenja croaked, I think you left more than a suitable impression on her. She won't be forgetting about you so easily.

You're actually trying to cheer me up? That's new. Should I be worried?

The mist grows heavier in your inner world when your thoughts become so glum. I'm all for dampness and humidity, but I do want to at least be able to see my surroundings. If you're not going to brighten your mood on your own, then let me help so I can at least regain something approaching a decent view of my home.

Do it for you, not for me? You're a lousy therapist, you know that?

And whose fault it that? I'm an aspect of you, after all.

So you keep telling me. Personally, I have some doubts on that. I can at least show a bit more tact than you.

I never claimed to embody the tactful side of you.

Clearly.

Brushing his concerns for Gunnr aside for the moment, Jiraiya put on a fresh smile as he came within sight of the Squad Four barracks. As much as he might miss the beautiful Mistress of War, he could at least console himself with the knowledge that the lady awaiting him here was no less lovely… or dangerous.

Smiling at the watchmen in greeting, he stepped through the gatehouse and into a quiet courtyard. Only a few of Squad Four's Soul Reapers were out an about, mostly scampering through the open space going about various errands. One lingered, though, not surprising in the least given just who she was.

"Jiraiya!" Isane called out with a smile as she hustled over to greet him while simultaneously struggling to keep the stack of papers cradled in her arms from scattering all over the place, "I wasn't expecting you to come by today. How are you?"

"Doing well," he answered with a grin, "It's good to see you, Isane. You keeping out of trouble?"

"You say that like I try to get into trouble in the first place," Isane pouted, "You know I'm not like that!"

Jiraiya chuckled before reaching up to mess with unruly silver hair. "I know. There's nothing wrong with having a bit of mischief in your life, though. Makes things a bit more exciting!"

Isane emphatically shook her head. "You can say that, but I'm not foolish enough to be 'mischievous' around Captain Unohana. If you want to keep your hands on your arms, you'd better be careful."

Jiraiya shrugged. "What can I say? I live dangerously. It's part of my charm."

Isane sighed. "It's going to get you killed."

Jiraiya laughed. "It already did, actually! How do you think I wound up here?"

Isane looked down, appearing ashamed. "Oh, right… I'm sorry."

Jiraiya shook his head and smiled. "Hey, don't go worrying about that. I made my peace with the end I met years ago. Wasn't even that hard, really. As far as an afterlife goes, it's hard to beat this one. I get to meet and work with all sorts of wonderful people, yourself included. From where I'm standing, death hasn't been all that bad."

Isane relaxed somewhat, though she looked a bit concerned. "I guess that's one way to look at it. Still, don't go getting careless. I would hate for you to die again so soon. So would Captain Unohana."

Jiraiya grinned. "Aw, you two really do care! Thanks, Isane. That means a lot. Really."

The face of Squad Four's Sixth Seat flushed a deep shade of red. "Oh, uhm… don't mention it. Anyway, if you're here to see the Captain, you probably shouldn't keep her waiting."

Jiraiya nodded. "Right. See you around, Isane."

The tall woman smiled and waved as he strolled off, and Jiraiya could only marvel at how his fortunes had reversed compared to his past life. Jiraiya the Shinobi might've chased the ladies, but they'd hardly been free in returning the affection. Jiraiya the Soul Reaper, though, was having a much better run of luck. Secret training with the lovely head healer of the Soul Society, a night of passion with the north's Mistress of War, a clear crush from Isane; karma seemed to finally be shining on the Legendary Sannin.

Maybe I should take up gambling and see if my luck's improved there as well. Who knows? When Tsunade finally gets to the Soul Society, I might go a round or two of dice with her and take her for all she's worth!

You really do like living dangerously when it comes to women…

I wouldn't have it any other way!

Having visited so many times over the years, it wasn't hard at all for Jiraiya to work his way through the Squad Four barracks and reach his ultimate destination. Coming to a stop outside the Captain's office, he rapped his knuckles against the sliding door.

"Got time for a visitor?" he asked.

There was no immediate reply, and for a moment Jiraiya thought that the lady of the hour might be in another part of the barracks. However, the door slid open a few seconds later, and Jiraiya was greeted by the serenely smiling beauty he had hoped to see.

"What a pleasant surprise," Unohana remarked, "What brings you over here today, Jiraiya?"

"Thought I'd stop in and give you a little update on our mutual project," he replied with a conspiratorial wink, "Captain Kyōraku sends his regards, too. Mind if I come in?"

Unohana inclined her head gestured inside. "By all means. I just finished preparing some tea if you'd like a cup."

Jiraiya could already smell it, and the aroma was heavenly. "Who am I to say no?"

Entering her office, Jiraiya headed over to the low-set table that was off to one side. A steaming tea kettle was already set out on a mat atop the finely polished surface, and Unohana came over with an extra cup a moment later.

"Don't take this wrong way," said Unohana as the two settled in, "but I wasn't prepared for company this evening. I do hope this update you speak of is an important one."

Jiraiya nodded as he rolled up his sleeve and showed her the healed wound on his forearm. "Of course. Take a look and see for yourself."

Pouring tea for both of them, Unohana then leaned across the table to peer closely at Jiraiya's arm. "Hmmm… very nicely done, but I'd expect nothing less from you given just how far your healing skills have commenced since I began instructing you. You're at the point where shallow wounds like this should be easy for you to handle."

Jiraiya shook his head. "It's not my handiwork; it's Nanao's."

Unohana's eyes widened slightly before she smiled. "Really? Well, now… it seems that she's coming along quite nicely under your tutelage. This bodes well for the future. Clearly my latest student isn't the only one making great strides."

"Things are going well with Mikoto, then?" Jiraiya surmised before taking a sip from his cup.

"Very much so," Unohana confirmed in between sips, "She heals basic injuries with considerable proficiency now, and we're at the point in her training where she's learning how to extract and neutralize poisons. Given the type of mission that Squad Two tends to get, I'm sure that particular skillset will come in handy sooner or later. With Mikoto and Nanao both making such progress, along with you… this is most encouraging. Perhaps it's time to consider bringing in Soul Reapers from other units now. As far as proof of concept goes, I would say that the three of you work quite nicely."

Jiraiya's brow furrowed in thought. "Would that be a good idea? I mean, I know it's what you've wanted to do from the start, but the more people that we bring in means a greater risk of detection. There's a good reason why you've wanted to keep this under wraps, after all."

"You needn't remind me," Unohana remarked, "I'm sure the Central Forty-Six will not be happy in the least to learn that I'm violating their obsolete tenets by spreading Kaidō users beyond Squad Four, but I believe that risking their ire is more than worth the good we can accomplish. That they feel more Soul Reapers learning to heal is a bad thing speaks volumes of their control complex. It's frankly absurd."

"You're preaching to the choir," Jiraiya quipped before taking another sip of tea, "I'm not the one you need to convince here."

"True enough," said Unohana, "It's a maddening state of affairs, but one that I've unfortunately had plenty of time to grow accustomed to. The Central Forty-Six's desire for control and stratification is a long-running tendency. If anything, it's only gotten worse over time. I fear that only a black swan event can change the status quo at this point."

Jiraiya leaned forward. "Don't take this the wrong way, but seeing how long you've been a Captain in the Thirteen Court Guard Squads, one can argue that you've been a part of that status quo. I appreciate the steps that you've been taking to quietly work against that, but it seems like you waited an awfully long time before taking any action. Of course, I haven't been in the Soul Society for nearly as long as you, so for all I know I could be missing some key details here."

Unohana sighed. "I'd like nothing more than to tell you that I've been working for centuries behind the scenes to circumvent the stringent rules imposed upon us by the Central Forty-Six… but I would be betraying the truth. Once I settled into my role as the top healer within the Thirteen Court Guard Squads, I'm afraid that I became a bit too comfortable in my position. I understood the system's flaws, but I convinced myself that eventually the need for evolution would become apparent to all and that others would take up the mantle for change. It was easy to come up with excuses for inaction; the full-time running of Squad Four is no easy task, after all. Since our duties revolve around the healthcare of our fellow Soul Reapers, not to mention the maintaining of much of the Thirteen Court Guard Squads' logistical support and even the cleanliness and sanitation of the Seireitei, it's not hard at all to simply get caught up in the day-to-day work and shove worries about the bigger picture aside. Before you know it, centuries have gone by, and in that time the status quo has only further reinforced itself."

Pausing to drink more of her tea, Unohana then put her cup down before smiling. "Fortunately for me, Captain Kyōraku has an eye for that wider picture. Granted, his laid-back nature means he seldom acts without prompting, but he will eventually make a move when he thinks the time is right. It was thanks to his unit that I was finally knocked out of my complacency. I only wish that the cost had not been so high."

"Cost?" Jiraiya parroted in puzzlement.

A mournful look appeared in Unohana's eyes. "The inciting incident behind this program was a rather nasty Hollow encounter in the Realm of the Living known as Terra. While in the field performing Konsō on the spirits of fallen soldiers in the aftermath of a particularly bloody human battle, Squad Eight was set upon by a large number of Hollows. They were led by multiple Adjuchas-class Menos Grande. The fighting was fierce, but while Squad Eight did prevail, there were many wounded Soul Reapers by the end of the engagement. I personally led the relief team dispatched to tend the injured."

Jiraiya grimaced. "It was that bad, eh?"

"It was," Unohana confirmed solemnly, "We did what we could, but the most gravely wounded had expired before we'd even arrived. Had healers already been present with Squad Eight in the field, many more lives could have been saved. The delay incurred by my relief team travelling from the Soul Society to that Realm of the Living was costly, and that was just the most glaring example in an increasingly long line of similar such incidents. Kyōraku and I came to the conclusion that something needed to be done. Petitioning the Central Forty-Six for a change in the regulations to allow more flexibility for healers and for proactive measures such as members of Squad Four teaching their comrades in other units how to stabilize victims so that they might survive long enough for our relief teams to arrive went nowhere. In the face of the obstinate old fools on the governing body, Kyōraku and I resolved to take matters into our own hands. It took us some time to come up with this little secret training program of mine, but I daresay that the results speak for themselves. It's just a shame that so many lives had to be lost before I could compel myself to act. Even now… it does not feel like I've done enough. Perhaps the debt incurred by my centuries of inaction cannot be made up, but I wish to try nonetheless."

The image of a certain raven-haired Shinobi-turned-Soul Reaper bubbled up in Jiraiya's mind. "I know someone who's trying, in his own way, to make up for his past mistakes. It's never an easy road, but it's one worth walking. I don't know if he's found the peace and forgiveness that he's looking for yet, but I think he's definitely in a better place now than he was before he started. The important part is recognizing this; there's always time to change the road you're on. You just need the courage to take that first step. From where I'm sitting, you both clearly have that."

Unohana eyed him curiously. "That 'someone' you speak of… is it Itachi Uchiha, by any chance?"

Jiraiya blinked. "Yeah, that's right. What gave it away?"

"I've seen him in passing on and off over the years," Unohana remarked, "and I've noticed something peculiar; he carriers himself in a much lighter manner now than he used to. It's been a very slow and subtle shift, but it's clear when you know what to look for. There's still a shadow that haunts his steps, yet it feels less prominent now than what it once was."

Jiraiya considered what hints Unohana had dropped to him in previous conversations regarding her past, and an odd thought occurred. "You should talk to him sometime. I think you two would find that you've got a bit more in common than you know."

Unohana smiled before picking her teacup back up and indulging in another sip. "Perhaps… I will keep that in mind."

She met his gaze over the rim of her cup, and he was struck by the piercing look in her deep blue eyes. "If you don't mind me saying so, I've noticed something similar in you over these past few years. Granted, it's a bit more difficult to pick up on; you have such a relaxed way about you most of the time. Even so… I daresay that there has been a bit more pep in your step as of late. Ever since you and Itachi returned from that long range northern investigation a good while back."

Jiraiya smiled in equal parts fond reminiscence and mild anxiety; just how much did Unohana know about what had transpired during his trip up north with Itachi? "Well, it wound up being a very fulfilling mission. I ran into a few old friends… even made peace with an old foe."

Unohana's eyebrow arched slightly. "Really? I wasn't aware that you had many foes in the Soul Society, let alone old ones. Would this have something to do with your past life?"

"It would," Jiraiya admitted warily, mentally debating just how much to tell her.

"Is it something you're comfortable elaborating on with me?" she asked with a patient smile, "If it's too personal of a matter, you need only say so and I'll cease prying. You have my word."

Jiraiya eyed Unohana intently for a very long moment, silently debating with himself just what he could reveal. He was still wary of spreading knowledge regarding Tailed Beasts to others in the Soul Society, but given that Unohana had trusted him enough to bring him into the little secret healer training program she and Kyōraku had cooked up, not to mention what hints she'd offered up regarding her past… perhaps returning the favor was overdue.

If anyone can keep a secret, she seems like a safe candidate. Besides, look at this way; offering up a tale of your old apprentice and the beast that once lived within him would likely be a much safer alternative to revealing that you bedded a Valkyrie.

Unohana's not the jealous type… I think.

Are you willing to bet the possibility of a very painful death on that?

Good point.

All the while Jiraiya's silent debate played out in his head, he saw Unohana looking on with that same serene smile. It was tempting to say that yes, the matter was too personal and he'd rather not delve deeper into it, but Jiraiya couldn't bring himself to go for that. Trust was a two-way street, and Unohana had already shown Jiraiya a great deal of it. Not meeting her halfway would feel like a betrayal of the confidence that she had shown in him. Besides, how often was it that Jiraiya got to regale a lovely woman with stories about his final and greatest pupil? When he looked at it that way, how could he resist?

"Well, I suppose there's no harm in letting you in on some of the details," he eventually said with a smirk, "Just as long as what I tell you stays between the two of us."

Unohana inclined her head. "My lips are sealed."

So, Jiraiya laid out to Unohana the true cause of his and Itachi's northern expedition. The appearance of the Nine Tailed Fox in those frigid lands, the potential implications it had for the status of his last apprentice, the rather unique solution he and Itachi had come to for dealing with the predicament presented by Kurama, and the fierce battle waged to bring that solution to fruition. While he didn't outright lie to Unohana on any of the details, he made a very conscious effort to omit any mention of his growing closeness to Gunnr and what it had ultimately resulted in during the final night before his journey home.

For her part, Unohana sat back and listened attentively, occasionally asking a clarifying question or two but mostly allowing Jiraiya to proceed as he wished. She seemed keenly interested, though her tranquil expression made it difficult for Jiraiya to get a better read on her. It made him rather nervous as he reached the end of his tale, and he could only hope that she wouldn't pry into what he'd left unsaid.

Fortunately for him, her focus turned out to be on the connections that the mission had to Jiraiya's past life rather than any new relationships he was building in his afterlife. "It must have been a great relief to learn the truth from Kurama regarding your final apprentice's wellbeing. Granted, quite some time has gone by since then, so your former pupil could have met his end in that period. That being said, I have to imagine a student as powerful as your Naruto sounds like would've made some serious waves in the Soul Society by now had he come over here. I think we can be reasonably certain that he's still running amok in your old Realm of the Living."

Jiraiya smiled as he took another sip of his tea. "I hope so. When I saw him a few years ago, he was looking good. Had a wife, kids, became leader of the village… I want that to last for him as long as it can. Much as I might want to see him again, I'd rather not have it be too soon, if you know what I mean."

Unohana nodded and smiled in return. "I think I do. For all your… eccentricities, let's call them, you clearly care deeply for your student. I imagine he must have been thrilled when you saw him during your mission back to his Realm of the Living. You're most certainly the kind of mentor who'd make a powerful impression on his pupils."

Jiraiya chuckled as not just Naruto's face but those of Yahiko, Nagato and Konan all drifted through his mind. "I really did. All of my students turned out to be incredible Shinobi in their own way. Maybe some went down paths that I'd rather they didn't, but I'm proud of them all."

"I should very much like to meet them sometime," Unohana remarked, "When the day comes that you find Naruto or any of your other former students in the Soul Society, do please bring them by here. Putting aside the fact that I'm sure they'd all make for splendid Soul Reapers, I'd be most keen on getting their impressions of you."

Jiraiya raised an eyebrow. "Really? Why is that?"

"Over the centuries, I've found that there are certain individuals who are best known through multiple lenses, not just my own," Unohana explained, "I find you to be one of those individuals, Jiraiya."

Jiraiya tilted his head quizzically. "Is that a compliment?"

A soft laugh slipped through the Squad Four Captain's lips. "Yes, though I can understand if you find it to be a strange one."

Jiraiya grinned. "Hey, I'll take it! I'm always up for praise from lovely ladies. I think I've gotten more of it since I died than I ever did while I was alive."

Unohana's lips curled up in the faintest of smirks. "They didn't know what they had before them."

It looked like she wanted to say more, but then a male voice called out from behind the sliding door. "Captain! I've got those forms for the surgical instrument supply requests you asked for. They just need your signature and then we can submit the requisition order."

Unohana sighed before putting on a polite smile. "Very well, then. Please wait a moment, Lieutenant; I have a matter to wrap up here. I'll let you in shortly."

"Burdens of leadership, eh?" Jiraiya remarked.

"Alas, yes," Unohana replied, "I can't say that I'm overly fond of paperwork, but it comes with the Captain's Haori, so to speak."

Jiraiya stood up. "I'll let you get to it, then. Thanks for letting me eat up a bit of your evening."

A surprisingly devious glimmer flashed in her deep blue eyes. "You can have a bit more… if you're patient."

Jiraiya was intrigued. "Really?"

"I must attend to my duties for the moment," Unohana continued, "but I'm free later this evening. Are you?"

Jiraiya's heartbeat picked up a notch as his mind raced to figure out just what she was cooking up. "I've got no plans."

"Good," said Unohana, "then meet me atop Sōkyoku Hill at midnight."

The hair on the back of his neck stood up on end as he recalled what had happened the last time that she'd asked him to meet her at that location. "And what exactly will we be doing up there?"

The mischievous smile Unohana graced him with was the only hint of her intentions. "You'll find out soon enough."

….

On another night, Jiraiya might have taken a moment to appreciate the clear skies, the brilliant luminescence of the moon, and tapestry of glimmering pinpricks that were the stars above. He might have paused and closed his eyes to savor the song of hooting owls, chirping crickets, and croaking toads coming from the wooded area down at the base of Sōkyoku Hill. He might even have sat on the edge of the cliff and stared out in wonder at the sea of tiny flickering orange lanterns that gave life to the Seireitei after sundown.

He could not partake in any of those luxuries tonight, or at least not yet. It was nearly midnight, and Jiraiya had arrived early to scope the area out in hopes of avoiding another ambush. Careful investigation had revealed no signs of Captain Unohana, but that was no cause for Jiraiya to relax his guard. If she was not lying in wait here, there was still the chance that she would sneak up on him when midnight was struck.

She's normally quite the punctual one, Jiraiya noted as he looked around while keeping his right hand over the pommel of his Zanpakutō, I can't imagine her being late… and if she is late, then it's by design. What's her game tonight?

His gaze swept back and forth across the stone plateau, and his vigilance paid off in short order. At the stroke of midnight, he caught a tiny flicker of light reflecting off metal, and it was racing towards him. Drawing his sword in the blink of an eye, Jiraiya made two quick swings. Twin 'clangs' sounded, followed by a smaller clattering at his feet. Looking down, Jiraiya saw a pair of long and slender throwing needles.

A rustling and the flapping of a Haori from behind him was his only warning. Ducking on instinct and rolling to the right, Jiraiya saw a crescent of gleaming metal flashing over his head. When he came up, his sword was at the ready, and not a moment too soon, for he only barely caught Unohana's follow-up slash.

He grinned fiercely as his sword locked with hers. "Throwing those needles, then Flash Stepping behind my back… you could give Yoruichi a run for her money! Sure you don't belong in Squad Two instead of Four?"

A very small smile graced Unohana's lips, but the shadows beneath her eyes leant any joy in the expression a very sinister edge. "Perhaps. I'm more at home in the darkness than my subordinates could ever know. You're already aware of that, though. Let's dispense with the pleasantries and get to the fun, shall we?"

"Fine by me," Jiraiya growled in challenge, "Let's dance!"

And dance, they did. Given his experience with her, Jiraiya might've believed that he had a pretty good handle on Unohana's fighting style, but that sort of thinking invited complacency, and Unohana was the last person that he wanted to get complacent around. He couldn't afford it here, not with the vicious yet elegant assault she was unleashing against him. Her sword swept through the air in hauntingly graceful arcs, but if there was beauty to be found in her form it had a very macabre feel. The darkness that Jiraiya had sensed within her in past bouts seemed to be much closer to the surface now than it had been before, as if drawn further and further out by his growth in the art of the blade.

He fell back across the plateau, unable to do much more than merely defend himself against the onslaught. Unohana's blade whipped about her like a stingray's tail, its point darting towards even the slightest hint of a gap in Jiraiya's defenses. One blow came from on high, nearly slicing into Jiraiya's scalp as he frantically ducked to evade, only for her to suddenly whirl around like a dervish and bring her sword circling back for a low strike that missed the Legendary Sannin's left leg by the slimmest of margins.

"You've gotten quicker," she noted without relenting her assault, "and your instincts are sharper than before. You clearly haven't been slacking in your training."

"How kind of you to notice," Jiraiya replied in between blocks and deflections, "I see you haven't let the healer's lifestyle dull your skills. Where you find the time to practice is beyond me, though."

Unohana licked her lips, the small smile she'd worn since the start of the clash taking on an air of menace. "When one has the proper motivation, one makes time."

"And that motivation's me?" Jiraiya asked as he parried a thrust aimed at his gut and got in a rare counterattack that Unohana effortlessly batted aside, "I'm flattered."

Unohana's eyes gleamed with a predator's hunger. "As well you should be."

Switching to a one-handed grip, Unohana launched her next offensive with a new level of ferocity. Her moves took on an almost freewheeling quality, her swings loose to the point of being nearly wild. The entire display struck Jiraiya as jarringly undisciplined for her. Was she getting so caught up in the thrill of the fight that she'd allow her form to become sloppy? It didn't sit right with Jiraiya, and he suspected that something else was going on here. What game was she playing with him now?

With her blade flashing before him in a seamless sphere of gleaming steel, Jiraiya didn't see her left hand slip into her robes. He only became aware of the dagger she drew when she locked his sword with hers before plunging the smaller blade deep into his right leg. Jiraiya jerked himself back while keeping his sword up, the motion yanking the dagger out of Unohana's hand and leaving the blade imbedded in his leg. Not missing a beat, she ramped up her onslaught still further, and it was all Jiraiya could do to keep her sword at bay. Then she drew a second dagger, and after batting Jiraiya's sword aside she drove that blade into his left shoulder. Blood spurted from both wounds as Squad Four's Captain suddenly pulled back, leaving both daggers still in their victim. She lowered her blade, eying him expectantly.

Dropping to one knee, Jiraiya checked himself over while keeping one eye on Unohana. The purpose of their meeting here was abundantly clear now, and he had to work quickly to minimize the damage. He had no idea if Unohana would strike while he was in the midst of attending to his wounds, so he had to prioritize and hope he made the right choice. The injury to his right leg hampered his mobility the most, so Jiraiya made that his first target. Yanking the blade out of his wounded limb, he immediately pressed his left hand to the injury, and the sea-green healing energy of Kaidō surged into action.

Dug deep enough into the flesh to hurt like hell, he thought, but not deep enough to strike at bone. She's toying with me.

Each second that passed seemed to drag on entirely too long, yet it only took Jiraiya a few moments to seal the wound. Before he could shift his focus to the injury that had been inflicted upon his left shoulder, though, Unohana suddenly surged forward. Jiraiya had no choice but to scramble back into a rough fighting stance, and the song of clashing swords rang out once more.

"Not bad," Unohana remarked as she hammered away at Jiraiya's upraised blade, her sword gripped in both hands now, "Of course, in a real battle, your foes won't give you even the brief window to heal that I did."

"Kind of figured that," Jiraiya hissed as the dagger in his left shoulder cut further into his flesh, the movements of battle exacerbating the wound, "That was dirty, you know? Packing hidden blades… you're more like a Shinobi than I'd imagined."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Unohana purred with a taunting smirk.

She hadn't laid down any concrete rules for this fight, and given her use of hidden weapons Jiraiya figured that was license enough for him to call upon more than just his Zanpakutō. Continuing to fend off her sword strikes, Jiraiya sent a flow of spirit energy into his long white hair. The long tail he kept it in stiffened along his back, and he suddenly crouched low while keeping his sword over his head. He arched his back, and the hair facing Unohana became a carpet of razor-sharp points.

Hair Needle Senbon!

At such close range, it would be impossible even for a Soul Reaper Captain to dodge the flurry of needles that flew forth from Jiraiya. Unohana didn't even try. Instead, she weaved her sword around her so quickly that it formed a veritable cocoon of steel, and a staccato of clangs sounded as the hardened hair projectiles were deflected. Well, most of them were, at least. Jiraiya had the satisfaction of seeing one graze Unohana's left cheek, leaving a thin trail of blood in its wake. A few more stuck into the Captain's shoulders, arms and legs, causing her eyes to widen in mild surprise. She leapt away, immediately tending to her new injuries and giving Jiraiya an opening to remove the dagger in his left shoulder and seal up that wound.

Unohana, of course, worked much faster than Jiraiya. As the Thirteen Court Guard Squads' premier healer, it was child's play for her to remove the needles and deal with the puncture wounds that they had inflicted. Jiraiya envied how effortlessly she could manipulate the healing energies of Kaidō; they seemed to seep out from her fingers in eerily elegant tendrils, each strand finding an injury and sealing it with speed and precision. For his part, the Legendary Sannin had to focus considerably on his own injury; continuing to fight with the dagger in his shoulder had not done the flesh and muscle in that area any favors.

As Jiraiya tended to himself, Unohana sheathed her sword, picked up the daggers that she'd stabbed him with just a few seconds ago and held them up in the moonlight. Jiraiya supposed that pain could've been playing tricks with his head, but to him it seemed like she was almost entranced by the sight of his blood on the blades. It only lasted for the briefest of moments, though, before she pulled a cloth from her robes and cleaned the weapons.

"It's been quite some time since I last used these in a fight," she remarked while putting the daggers away, before going to pick up the throwing needles from earlier, "Good to see that they still have their edge."

Jiraiya chuckled ruefully. "Is that why you wanted to meet me out here tonight? Had to make sure your toys still worked and needed a living dummy to test them on?"

"No," Unohana replied with a very small smile as she came over and knelt next to him, "that was just a bonus. May I?"

Sighing as he put his sword away, Jiraiya allowed her to look him over. Her hands lightly brushed over his freshly-healed wounds, and Jiraiya couldn't help but marvel at how fine and soft her fingertips and palms were. They felt nearly as soothing as the healing balm of Kaidō itself, at jarring odds with just how viciously she'd come at him just a minute or so before.

The finest silk hiding the sharpest of blades, Jiraiya mused, I suppose that fits her like a glove.

"Very nicely done," she said a moment later, "Your healing skills have grown considerably since I last tested you."

"Thanks," Jiraiya replied as his eyes swept her up and down, "Still can't hold a candle to you, though. You looked like you were barely even trying when you healed those cuts that I gave you earlier."

Unohana shrugged. "Well, they weren't exactly deep. No offense, but your hair needle technique is more of an annoyance than a genuine threat to someone like me. Then again, I suppose matters would have been different if I hadn't focused on protecting my eyes, throat and torso above all else."

Jiraiya shook his head. "I'm amazed that you were able to block as many as you did. I fired those off at point-blank range."

"For what it's worth, you didn't make it easy for me," Unohana confessed, "All those sharpened hairs firing off at once were quite difficult to contend with. Even my skill with the blade has its limits. The best I could do was contain the hits that I took to non-vital areas. That move of yours is quite potent as a surprise attack; anyone not familiar with Shinobi techniques wouldn't see it coming."

Jiraiya smirked. "You almost sound like you appreciate it. I would've thought that you'd look down on it as a cheap trick."

"That'd be awfully hypocritical of me," Unohana pointed out, "considering that I opened the exchange with a surprise throwing needle attack and then pulled concealed blades on you later in the fight. You used the tools available in your arsenal, as did I. I never specified any rules for this fight; you could have used your Shikai and I wouldn't have complained. Frankly, I'm surprised that you didn't release your Zanpakutō."

Jiraiya tilted his head slightly. "Not disappointed, are you?"

Unohana smiled. "Hardly. You clearly decided to rely upon skill and guile rather than raw power in this clash, and I can appreciate your application of both. An opponent who can apply intellect and technique to a fight is one to be admired."

"That's awfully kind of you," Jiraiya noted as he eyed her curiously, "If you don't mind me asking, what were you after here? Did you just want to evaluate my healing skills, or were you actually out to test my combat prowess?"

"Both," Unohana admitted before her voice softened slightly, "although I must confess to a level of personal indulgence as well."

Jiraiya blinked. "Indulgence?"

"It's incredibly hard for me to find good sparring partners," Unohana offered as she looked at him thoughtfully, "You're one of the few that's daring enough to come back for more."

Jiraiya was intrigued. "What about the other Captains? Surely a few of them are willing to cross blades with you. They need to keep their skills sharp just as much as you do, after all."

"In theory, that argument works," said Unohana before her eyes dimmed somewhat, "In practice… well, things become a bit more complicated."

"How so?" Jiraiya asked.

Unohana didn't directly answer him, instead taking a moment to look him over. "Think you can stand?"

Jiraiya didn't expect that response, but he dutifully patted down his previously-wounded leg and didn't feel much worse for the wear. "I believe so."

"Then come," Unohana said as she rose and headed towards the cliff beyond the Soul Society's famous instrument of execution.

Jiraiya followed her, thought they didn't end up going very far. The two Soul Reapers came to a stop at the edge of the cliff, with Jiraiya watching Unohana as her gaze swept across the Seireitei. To him, it seemed as though her eyes would linger on the barracks of each unit in the Thirteen Court Guard Squads for a moment before she eventually turned back to him.

"You and I spoke here of duality some time ago, if I recall correctly," Unohana remarked, "How the face I present to my colleagues in Squad Four and the Seireitei as a whole is only one aspect of me, and how I try to keep my… shadow, as it were, out of sight. How I'm not exactly proud of the darker aspect that I once embodied. Well, regardless of how much I might work to suppress it, that doesn't change the fact that my more experienced colleagues know about it. That very much includes the older Captains of the Thirteen Court Guard Squads. As for the newer ones… well, one has to be sharp to reach the rank of Captain, which means their senses are keen enough to recognize that it's a bad idea for them to tangle with me."

"Anyone could tell that going at you in a real fight would be a bad idea," Jiraiya replied, "Still, there's a big difference between that and some friendly sparring. I'd think that your fellow Captains would be able to recognize that."

Unohana shook her head. "It's not so simple, I'm afraid. Yes, they're all more than capable of recognizing the difference between training together to keep our skills sharp and a life-or-death fight, but that's not the point. The older Captains know more about who I once was than you do, Jiraiya, and they're thus reluctant to spar with me out of fear of reawakening that bloodthirsty killer. The younger ones might not know the details, but my reputation's enough to make them think twice before asking me for a practice bout. Even in a ceremonial context like the Blade Dancer Festival, it's actually uncommon for me to find a partner. Captain Kyōraku is one of the few to seek me out willingly in that venue, and even he does so sparingly. Usually it's for the demo bout to give newcomers an idea as to what's expected of them; rarely does he or any of my colleagues extend an invitation for the main event."

She then smiled as her eyes met his. "You, though… you come back again and again. You've fought with me at every Blade Dancer Festival that you've attended since becoming an active Soul Reaper, and you were willing to meet me up here tonight despite the fact that I fought you here before and you had reason to suspect I'd do so again. Time after time, you keep coming back for more. If I did not know better, I'd say you enjoy fighting me almost as much as I do you."

Jiraiya chuckled. "Well, you always keep things interesting. Besides, I have a weakness for dangerous women, and you certainly fit the bill! How can I resist challenging the lady that terrifies the rest of the Seireitei?"

Unohana actually laughed. "Thank you for proving my point! You know, sometimes I wonder if Squad Eight was the right place for you. Your daring attitude makes you a natural fit for Squad Eleven."

Jiraiya shook his head. "Nah, not really my speed. Bit too brutish for my tastes. Besides, have you seen their Lieutenant? I'll take Lisa over him any day."

Unohana rolled her eyes. "Always with an eye towards the fairer sex. You and Captain Kyōraku really are two peas in a pod. It's a wonder that Lieutenant Yadōmaru is able to put up with you oafs."

Jiraiya grinned. "She won't admit it, but she loves our roguish charm!"

Unohana humored him with a little smirk. "I doubt that's how she'd put it."

An odd thought struck Jiraiya's mind. "Speaking of Squad Eleven, wouldn't that unit's Captain be open to sparring with you? I mean, that whole division's all melee combat and fighting just for fighting's sake, and I'd expect their leader to be no different. Seems to me like you'd be just the kind of opponent Captain Starmont would hope for."

Unohana was silent for a moment before turning her gaze to focus on Squad Eleven's distant barracks, and when she spoke again it was with a hushed and somber tone. "That… would not be a good idea."

Jiraiya raised an eyebrow. "Why not? Don't tell me you're afraid of losing to him. Regardless of who's the better fighter, a match between you two would still be worthwhile just for the chance to test yourself."

"You misunderstand," Unohana countered, "It isn't about who would win or lose if the two of us sparred together; my ego is hardly that fragile. Nor is it about testing my skills against an experienced and powerful fellow Captain."

"So, what am I missing here, then?" Jiraiya prodded, "Do you just not like the guy? You two got some sort of grudge that you're nursing?"

"Nothing of the sort," Unohana replied, "I may reprimand Captain Starmont from time to time since his subordinates love to give mine no end of grief, but I hold no personal animosity towards him. While his rather abrasive nature can make him difficult to get along with at times, he remains a capable commanding officer and highly skilled warrior. I respect him for that, and I am more than willing to work with him when circumstances demand it."

Jiraiya shook his head in mounting frustration. "If that's the case, then why not spar with him?"

"Because it would not be a sparring match," Unohana answered, and Jiraiya felt a chill go down his spine as her gaze took on a dark edge, "Any fight between me and him would be to the death."

Of all the answers he could have gotten from her, Jiraiya hadn't been expecting that one. "Whoa, back up a second here! To the death? Isn't that a bit… you know… extreme?"

"It is," Unohana concurred in a far-too-casual manner for Jiraiya's case given the subject matter, "and yet, it is as it must be."

Jiraiya vehemently shook his head. "No, it's not! It doesn't make a damn lick of sense. A death match with him? Why?"

"Allow me to offer a bit of clarification," Unohana replied, "This requirement is not contingent upon Captain Torrence Starmont and I personally. Rather, it would be inherent in a match between me and whoever the current Captain of Squad Eleven might be. Whether Torrence or his successor, it would be the same."

It was piss-poor clarification as far as Jiraiya was concerned. "You're not really helping here. Why this requirement between you and any Captain of Squad Eleven? Why would it have to be a fight to the death?"

Unohana's gaze turned towards the moon, and Jiraiya was struck by the suddenly haunted look in her eyes. "It would be atonement for a mistake I made a very long time ago. A mistake… and my own cowardice."

Jiraiya recoiled. Cowardice? Unohana was many things to the former Shinobi, but in his eyes, it seemed like the word 'coward' was the last one that could apply to her.

His eyes narrowed as he focused on her with renewed interest; this was a mystery that he had to solve. "So, this dark past of yours that you've alluded to in the past… it's tied to Squad Eleven, then. What exactly happened between you and that unit? What ties you two together?"

Unohana looked at him for a long and poignant moment. In Jiraiya's eyes, she seemed genuinely conflicted… but only for the briefest of seconds. Her serene mask reasserted itself all too quickly, and the Legendary Sannin realized he would not be solving this mystery tonight.

She gave him confirmation a few seconds later when she graced him with a very small and melancholic smile. "It's become quite late, and I have a busy day ahead of me. I thank you for joining me tonight, Jiraiya. This has been a pleasure... one that I would love to experience again sometime."

Jiraiya reached out impulsively to take her hand, but she vanished on the wind in a Flash Step just as his fingers brushed hers. Then he was left alone on the cliff of Sōkyoku Hill with the cool night breeze and his own confused thoughts.

….

A few weeks later…

Sitting across the table from Neji, Shikaku Nara raised his teacup in a toast. "Congrats on passing your end of term tests. Here's to a successful end of your fourth Academy year, and to a promising fifth year."

Such toasts had never really been Neji's style, but given that Shikaku had gone through all the trouble of arranging this meeting and paying for his food and drink, the Soul Reaper-in-training was willing to humor him. "To past and future success."

He gently tipped his cup back and savored the tea. When Shikaku had designated this teahouse way out in North Rukon 51, Neji had been mildly concerned about the quality of the establishment. North Rukon 51 wasn't necessarily bad as far as Rukon Districts went, but it was definitely a bit rougher around the edges than other such middle regions. The general vibe was gruff and rowdy, which wasn't too surprising when one considered that the district was built around several active quarries and mines that supplied the both the Seireitei and the Principalities of the Great Noble Houses with important raw materials. The kind of people who worked in those fields were hardy lot to say the least, and Neji had imagined that bars and taverns would be more to their liking than more refined establishments.

In a way, the stereotype he had of North 51's denizens was not exactly wrong, but Neji had learned that it wasn't entirely right, either. Yes, North 51 had lower-class alcoholic establishments in abundance to relieve workers after a hard day's labor, but the miners and craftspeople who gravitated towards the district had more varied tastes than that. While the teahouse Neji and Shikaku currently occupied looked battered on the outside, inside it was lovingly maintained. The establishment's owner was a surprisingly refined elderly gentleman, and his staff was an odd mix of stocky men who wouldn't have looked at all out of place in the mines and several women ranging from lithesome to pleasantly plump, all with warm and relaxed attitudes.

It's not the worst establishment that Shikaku's had me meet him at for these periodic intel updates, Neji mused, nor is it the best. Since he picks a different placer every single time, I can only imagine what he's got in mind for the next rendezvous point.

When Neji eventually set his teacup down, he found Shikaku eyeing him curiously. "I know that you're a cool customer, Neji, but I would've thought that you'd be a bit more excited. Four years down in the advanced track, only two to go until graduation, and so far, it's all gone off without a hitch."

Neji shook his head. "I'd rather not count my chickens before they hatch. Premature celebration leads to complacency and sloppiness."

Shikaku conceded the point. "Fair enough. Given the delicate balancing act you have to put on, I can respect your focus. Still, don't forget to take some time to relax and enjoy yourself. You won't do anyone any good if you burn yourself out."

"I appreciate your concern," Neji replied, "but I'm doing just fine. This hasn't exactly been a difficult assignment, after all."

That was only half true. The overall assignment of continuing his journey down the road of becoming a Soul Reaper while learning more about the inner workings of the Seireitei so he could keep Shikaku and the others in the afterlife's Leaf Village informed was definitely low-risk when compared to field missions that Neji had taken on in the past. Sure, the role wasn't completely free of danger; his class had taken part in its first trip to a Realm of the Living for a Konsō exercise, and while the students themselves hadn't engaged in battle the escorting Soul Reapers had been forced to repel a pack of Hollows. Future field exercises for the students would doubtlessly entail similar or greater elements of risk, but given that the Academy was taking pains to ensure Neji and his classmates were accompanied by experienced Soul Reapers, he was no more concerned about the danger from Hollows during those trips as he had been about confronting the beasts with his fellow Shinobi out in the Rukon District.

The day-to-day work of maintaining his cover as a blind student, though, was somewhat trickier. Keeping the illusion of sightlessness at a convincing level for his peers while at the same time continuing to quickly absorb the lessons of his instructors required careful calculation on Neji's part. He wasn't just learning and training, but putting on a performance, a theatrical play that was ongoing every waking moment of the day. Four years straight and counting of such acting was no mean feat, especially since Neji had not exactly been experienced in long-term undercover operations before now. Might Guy had been an excellent teacher and leader in field operations, but his team had always favored direct confrontation; espionage was an entirely different ballgame.

Guy and Lee were never cut out for that sort of thing, Neji mused, I suppose Tenten could've adapted to it, though. Her ability to conceal weapons within scrolls would come in handy for such a role, and she was always much more disciplined and focused than our compatriots.

There was one part of his new life in the Seireitei that actually made keeping his cover a bit easier, though; the friends he'd made along the way. Granted, it was only a small circle, and it mostly consisted of the female students who were always so eager for his 'hands on' training. That was a crowd with certainly less than pure motives, yet the more time Neji spent with those girls, the more they opened up and showed him sides of them that he could appreciate and respect. The lithe and scarlet-haired Constance Moreau, for instance, was possessed of a keen and insightful mind that she applied just as much to her studies as she did to her attempts at flirtation. Then there was the slender brunette Xiuying Zhang, on the surface perhaps a more immature version of Tenten who wore her youthful crush for him on her sleeve and was prone to jealous pouting whenever she felt like Neji was paying one of the other girls perhaps a bit too much personal attention, yet at the same time she was earnest to a fault and determined to take every lesson to heart so that she could grow from it. While Neji could never reveal to them that he was essentially a spy in their midst, he did find himself relaxing more in their presence, whether it was during classroom lectures and training or study sessions in the afterhours. He had even started joining them for casual recreation, mostly in the form of board games or leisurely strolls through the Academy's beautiful campus.

About the only thing Neji found unpleasant about his current assignment was the pesky fact that it wasn't quite as covert as he and his superiors might want it to be. The leader of both Squad Two and the Stealth Force remained aware of his true purpose here, and Neji knew that Yoruichi had him under surveillance. Though the eyes that watched him day to day were quite good at keeping themselves concealed from the other Academy students and faculty, Neji's prowess with the Byakugan made him quite difficult to spy on while remaining undetected. There was always a member of the Stealth Forces lurking just out of public view, monitoring him wherever he went in the Seireitei.

Neji would tolerate such monitoring within the Seireitei, but not outside it. He always made an effort to shake the tail off whenever he ventured out into the Rukon District for these meetings with Shikaku, and so far Neji had a solid success record in losing his observers. Today had been no different, though it almost felt like whoever was charged with watching him had given up the chase a little too easily this time. Still, he hadn't picked up any signs of watchers when he'd arrived here, so Neji remained confident that he was in the clear.

Taking another sip from his tea, Neji watched as Shikaku looked down at the scroll that the Soul Reaper-in-training had brought with him; his latest observations from within the Seireitei. Neji labored to be as diligent as possible in transcribing whatever he thought that his superior might find noteworthy in the runup to their next meeting, but in truth the young man didn't feel as though he'd really brought anything of value to any of these update sessions so far. There was only so much that he could see and do as a student, after all, and he sure as hell didn't have access to where the real juicy intel lay. That would only come after graduation, and even then Neji would have to spend time climbing the ranks before he got into a position that granted the sort of access his mission truly required.

Still, Shikaku seemed pleased with the assortment of faculty gossip, spell lists, and other bits of miscellaneous Soul Reaper factoids that Neji had assembled for him. "As always, I appreciate your thoroughness in information gathering. So does the village. The insights here will be useful, especially if any of our Shinobi have future encounters with Soul Reapers."

"How are things back there?" Neji asked, "In the village, I mean? The Hollows aren't probing our defenses again, are they?"

Shikaku shook his head. "Not after we led that last pack into the Paper Bomb trap. I think they'll be looking for easier hunting grounds now, at least for a while."

"What about the Soul Reapers?" Neji pressed, "They're not trying to poke around?"

"No," Shikaku answered, "None have come around since Jiraiya. Either he's kept his mouth shut as to our exact location, or whoever he has told about us has apparently decided that it's best to give us a wide berth. Regardless, they're leaving us in peace, which I'm quite grateful for; it's one less problem for us to worry about."

Neji let out a slightly relieved exhalation. "That's good to hear."

Shikaku eyed him for a moment. "How about you? Having any trouble with your classmates?"

Neji resisted a smirk as images of his male classmates, jealous at the attention he received from the circle of female students that had grown around him over the years, flashed through his mind. "Nothing major. I may have bruised a few egos; some students don't like the idea of a blind man performing better in our coursework than they are."

Shikaku's brow furrowed. "They don't suspect the truth, do they?"

"Hardly," Neji reassured him, "It's the typical insecure crowd. You know the type; the ones who can't stand the thought of an outsider, and a handicapped one to boot, showing them up. Some of them tried to start something in the past, but the open challenge system in our Hakuda and Zanjutsu classes has given me ample opportunities to demonstrate why picking a fight with me would be a bad idea."

Shikaku seemed satisfied with that answer. "Some things never change… even in the afterlife, it seems. What about your instructors?"

"They're more than satisfied with my progress, if that's what you're wondering," Neji replied, "I'm a regular teacher's pet in their eyes. If nothing else, I imagine it's raised my profile as a recruitment target. That serves your goals well enough, right?"

Shikaku nodded. "It does. Speaking of recruitment… graduation's only two years off now. Given any thought to who you'll seek out at the Academy's recruitment exhibition?"

"I'll avail myself off all the units' displays," said Neji, "both as a courtesy and to make the most of the experience. It's really a formality, though; I've already made up my mind as to which unit I'd like to join."

Shikaku smiled. "So soon? That's a pleasant surprise. Which one are you aiming for?"

"Squad Two," Neji answered.

Shikaku regarded him thoughtfully for a few seconds. "That one, eh? I suppose it's a natural fit for people like us, and it's already got a Shinobi presence which means its Captain will have a greater appreciation for the sort of skills that our kind can bring to the table. Still… are you sure about this?"

"Why should I have reservations?" Neji asked, "As you just said, it's a natural fit for me. I've also worked with the unit in the past, so I already have at least a cursory familiarity with how they conduct their operations."

"I'm aware of that," said Shikaku, "That little excursion they took you on to our old Realm of the Living a few years back certainly paid dividends. Even so… I would've thought that you'd have reservations, given the identity of one of its members."

Beneath the headband, Neji's eyes narrowed. "You mean Itachi, right?"

"Who else would I be referring to?" Shikaku quipped, "Given his past actions and affiliations, it'd only be natural for you to harbor suspicions towards him."

Neji leaned forward slightly. "It almost sounds like you don't."

Shikaku tilted his head quizzically. "What gives you that idea?"

"The fact that you haven't ordered me to join Squad Two upon graduation to spy on him," Neji pointed out, "Given that he's one of the Leaf Village's most reviled traitors, I would've thought that he'd be a high-priority surveillance target. You never issued any such instructions, though."

"Well, as you said, you plan on joining Squad Two when you graduate," Shikaku countered, "Making any such orders is pointless now."

"But you didn't know that was my intention until today," Neji shot back, "Yet you still made no orders regarding Itachi when setting out the parameters of my assignment. Why?"

"You keeping tabs on him isn't what the village needs," said Shikaku, "Our priority is getting you into the Thirteen Court Guard Squads so we can have a source inside the organization keeping us appraised of its movements and any potential threat it might pose to the village. Itachi isn't a concern of the village right now."

Neji clasped his hands together. "Does the village even know that he's here?"

"I've told our superiors what they need to know for the village's security," Shikaku retorted.

"That's neither confirmation or denial," Neji pressed.

"Jiraiya's keeping an eye on Itachi," said Shikaku as he fixed Neji with a pointed stare, "You don't trust him?"

Neji sighed in frustration. "I do, but Jiraiya isn't in the same unit as Itachi. He can't keep tabs on him constantly."

"And is that what you plan to do?" asked Shikaku as he studied Neji intently, "Is that why you've decided to join Squad Two upon graduation?"

It was a question that Neji did not have an easy answer for. Shikaku was partially right as to Neji's intentions, but it went deeper than any distrust the Hyūga Clan's former prodigy had for the Uchiha Clan's bane. Rather, it came down to an exchange that had occurred during the mission to stop the Hollowfied Deidara and his pack of Menos Grande from marching on the Leaf Village.

"Perhaps, but even so… blood isn't easily washed away, regardless of the reasons behind its shedding."

"What reasons were yours?"

"Loyalty, peace… and love."

Those words had found purchase in Neji's mind and refused to let go. They flew in the face of all that he'd known regarding the butcher of the Uchiha Clan. As much as Neji might've wanted to brush them aside as nothing more than self-serving lies, he couldn't do that. He knew how to read people, even without help from the Byakugan; it was a necessary skill for any devoted Shinobi.

And the read he'd gotten on Itachi was that the notorious kin slayer had been telling the truth.

Which meant Neji was missing a crucial piece of the puzzle, and he just couldn't let go until he found that piece.

"It'll serve our interests," Neji finally replied, though it was as much a dodge as an actual answer, "If he's merely using Squad Two as a shield, then he bears watching. If his loyalty to the unit and the wider Soul Society is sincere, then it's in our interests to know that so we might predict his future actions. Either way, someone as dangerous as him shouldn't go unobserved. Jiraiya can claim he's watching Itachi, but he clearly can't monitor him constantly since they're in separate units. It'll be good for the village to have one of our people inside Squad Two so we can keep tabs on a potential threat."

The way Shikaku arched an eyebrow suggested he did not entirely buy Neji's reasoning, but he apparently felt that it wasn't worth pushing back on. "Well, if you're sure that's what you want to do. You still have two years to change your mind, and I suppose you can always transfer out of Squad Two at some point if you wish. Given your talents and Academy scores, I'm willing to bet that any of the other units in the Thirteen Court Guard Squads would happily take you into their ranks."

The rest of their meeting passed quickly, with Shikaku mostly occupying himself with the scroll Neji had brought him. Occasionally, he might ask Neji a question or two in between sips of tea, but the Academy student got the vibe that Shikaku had pretty much gotten everything out of him that he wanted at this point.

Eventually, Shikaku motioned for one of the waitresses to come over, and he paid their bill before rising. "Well, you'd better make your way on back to the Seireitei. Too much longer out here and the Stealth Force might mount a search operation."

"Right," Neji muttered under his breath.

The establishment had gotten notably busier since the two of them had first come in; the early evening dinner rush was in full swing. Neji and Shikaku had to wind their way through bustling patrons and servers alike in order to reach the exit, and they were met outside by a pleasantly cool breeze. Even through the band of cloth over his eyes, Neji could see various lanterns lit up as the sun made its descent over the western horizon. A fresh bevy of smells assaulted his nose as various street vendors hawked delectable morsels, and he resolved to come back here once he was an active Soul Reaper; his new income by that point would serve him well in sampling the culinary goods that North 51 had to offer.

"Give my regards to my father," Neji requested.

Shikaku nodded. "I will. He'll be pleased to know that you're doing well."

Neji then saw Shikaku's brow furrow as his gaze swept over the nearby rooftops. "Be a little more careful next time. You were tailed."

Neji's eyes widened beneath the blindfold, and he activated the Byakugan. "Impossible…"

Focusing in the same direction as Shikaku, Neji immediately found their observer; a single raven with a scar running over its left eye. "Damn it."

Shikaku simply shrugged before setting off. "Never let your guard down, Neji. Later."

Bidding Shikaku farewell, Neji immediately Flash Stepped towards the raven's perch. His skill in the technique had improved considerably over his four years at the Academy, and he came to a stop on the roof just mere centimeters behind the bird. Before the avian could react, Neji seized it and held it up to face him.

"Let me guess," Neji growled as he took the bird to the other side of the roof so that they wouldn't be visible to those on the main street below, "you're one of Itachi's spies."

"Guilty as charged," the raven readily confessed, sounding remarkably calm given its circumstances, "You would do well to release me unharmed."

"Who's going to make me?" Neji asked with a smirk, "Your master's not here right now."

The bird chuckled. "Are you sure about that?"

A chorus of cawing rang out, and suddenly Neji found himself surrounded by dozens of ravens. There was a whirl of black feathers, and when the flock of birds dispersed a second later Neji found himself standing face to face with Itachi himself.

"How…" Neji began.

"So easily tricked!" the raven cackled as it taunted him, "Are you really the prodigy of the Hyūga Clan? You disappoint me, boy."

"No need for such disparagement, Maebure," Itachi remarked, "He's done quite well, all things considered."

"If you say so," the raven huffed.

"I do," Itachi quipped before turning back to Neji, "If you'd be so kind as to release my friend, I'd appreciate it."

Neji considered refusing for a moment, but thought better of it; it would not do his mission any favors to pick this kind of fight. "Fine."

He let go of the raven, which wasted no time in flying over to land on Itachi's shoulder. "Thank you. Now, I believe you owe me for services rendered."

"Of course," Itachi replied, already reaching into one of the pouches on his belt and pulling out a sesame bun, "As you requested. Quite fresh, too."

The raven immediately snatched the morsel out of Itachi's hand. It struggled for a couple of awkward minutes to wolf down the meal, with Neji momentarily fearing that the bun might get lodged in the bird's throat. His concerns proved unfounded, though, and the bird let out an unceremonious belch a second later.

"Ah, that's the good stuff," said the bird before flying off, "As always, a pleasure doing business with you, Itachi!"

Neji raised an eyebrow as he looked back and forth between Itachi and the rapidly ascending raven. "You pay your summons?"

"For quality service, yes," Itachi casually answered, "You'd be surprised what our summoned creatures are capable of with a little incentive or two thrown in for good measure."

"I'll take your word for it," Neji deadpanned, eyes narrowing beneath the black headband, "Finally figured out how I've been slipping away from the Stealth Force's tails, I see."

Itachi shook his head. "You're mistaken; you've never slipped them at all. We only let you think that you had."

Neji folded his arms. "Not the way I remember it. Your organization's always tried to follow me out into the Rukon District, and I've never failed to ditch your spies… before today, anyway."

Itachi reached into his robes and pulled out a scroll before passing it to Neji. "Open that up and tell me what you see."

Neji eyed him warily, causing Itachi to roll his eyes. "It's not a trap. If I was going to launch an attack on you, I would've already done so, and I'd be dragging your unconscious body back to the Seireitei right now."

Neji kept his guard up while opening the scroll. His breath caught in his throat once he saw the contents; it was a rough map of the Rukon District.

With all his previous meeting points with Shikaku marked.

Neji grinded his teeth in frustration as he looked up from the scroll at Itachi. "How?"

"Let me give you a free bit of advice when it comes to intelligence work," said Itachi, "It's not the tail you can see that you need to worry about; it's the one that you can't. Sometimes more, depending on the importance of the target."

Neji bristled as he rolled the scroll up and passed it back to Itachi. "I've always used the Byakugan to find and lose my followers. How did they evade detection?"

"The Byakugan is a very potent tool," Itachi remarked, "but, like the Sharingan, it has limitations. Limitations that I made sure my Captain was aware of."

Neji folded his arms. "And she informed those that were assigned to watch me. I thought you were trying to keep knowledge of Shinobi Kekkei Genkai under wraps."

"I am," Itachi answered, "It's a strict need to know basis. Yoruichi's subordinates are devoted to her; when she entrusts them with closely guarded secrets, they'll do everything in their power to make sure they stay secret."

"You really do trust her," said Neji.

Itachi nodded. "Completely."

Neji tilted his head. "Funny… I didn't think someone like you could have that kind of faith in another."

Itachi's gaze drifted off in the direction of the distant Seireitei, and the young Hyūga was surprised to see a very small smile grace his lips. "Neither did I, once upon time. You'd be amazed how much dying can open one's eyes."

The former Akatsuki member's remarks sounded sincere, which only further threw Neji for a loop. It wasn't that he disagreed with the sentiment; his own experience since winding up in the afterlife had certainly granted him a new perspective on things. It just felt so odd to see such words and feelings being expressed by one of the Leaf Village's worst criminals.

"Is this the part where you escort me back to the Academy dorms?" asked Neji.

"Strictly speaking, yes," Itachi answered, "However, there's no reason for us to rush it. North 51's night market is just opening up. It would be a shame to leave without partaking in what it has to offer. Why don't we grab a little snack for the road? My treat."

That certainly wasn't what Neji had been expecting. "What are you after here?"

"I was hoping for a chance to talk," Itachi replied, "not to mention an opportunity to enjoy the fruits of the Rukon District. If that's not to your liking, though, we can just beeline for the Seireitei. Your call."

Neji's first instinct was to refuse any such charity from him, but he fought against that impulse. This was a chance to get a bit closer to answering his nagging questions regarding Itachi, to perhaps find that piece he was missing regarding the Uchiha Clan massacre. If nothing else, it was an opportunity to sample some of North 51's night market delicacies on Itachi's dime, and Neji's thoughts were the same as any other student; if someone's offering free food, take them up on it.

"I suppose stopping at one of the stalls for a bite couldn't hurt," he said eventually, "but you'd better be serious about you paying for it."

"Rest assured, I am," said Itachi as he hopped off the roof down into the back alley, "Now, come along. Wouldn't do for us to wait and let all the good stuff get bought up before we can claim our share."

Following the former Shinobi, the two of them soon found themselves back out on the main thoroughfare. Every free bit of space was taken up by vendors hawking foods of all sorts. Freshly cooked fish, beef, ripe fruits and vegetables, rice, tofu, sweets and so much more were there for the taking. In the end, Itachi went for some rice balls while Neji selected a dango skewer. True to his word, Itachi coughed up the cash for both, and soon enough the two of them were meandering down the road back towards the Seireitei at a leisurely pace.

"Shouldn't we be Flash Stepping?" Neji asked after swallowing one of the sweet dumplings, "If we keep going at this speed, it would take us weeks to get to the Seireitei."

Itachi shrugged before biting into one of his rice balls. "We can pick up the pace at any time. The night's young, and the weather's quite nice. Might as well take advantage of it."

Neji scowled. "Just what do you want with me?"

Itachi did not answer directly. "Is Shikaku Nara doing well?"

Neji was a bit taken aback by the question. "Well enough. What's it to you? It's not like you know him. He wasn't of your generation back when you were with the Leaf Village."

"No, but I know of his exploits," Itachi replied, "and I respect his capabilities. The Nara Clan was in good hands with him at its head. I imagine the same can be said of the afterlife's Hidden Leaf Village since it has him deeply involved in its intelligence operations. I wouldn't mind the chance to meet up with him sometime."

Neji tensed up, and his right hand moved to hover over the handle of his Zanpakutō. "For what purpose?"

Itachi's gaze briefly went to Neji's sword before he shook his head and sighed. "Nothing untoward, though I don't expect you to take my word for it. With what Jiraiya told me about his meeting with him a few years back, I simply wish to discuss his current assessment of threats in the Soul Society and the state of affairs of Shinobi residing in the afterlife. It would be useful to compare notes and spot any potential problems that either of us might have missed."

It was reasonable enough, and it fit with the impression Neji had of Itachi since the mission out to the Shinobi Realm of the Living; that of a Soul Reaper who was firmly committed to protecting those who resided in the plane beyond death. The afterlife's Leaf Village and members of Squad Two sharing intelligence could only benefit both parties.

Yet Neji wasn't satisfied with that; as ever, he felt like there was a piece missing. "That's it? Really?"

Itachi looked at Neji for a long and thoughtful moment. "Well, I'd also like to learn more about the inner workings of this afterlife Leaf Village. In particular, I'm rather curious as to how the major Shinobi Clans have adopted to the new system… especially yours."

Neji's head snapped back, and his mind was abuzz with fresh suspicions. "What's your interest in the Hyūga Clan?"

"The parallels and differences between it and the Uchiha Clan," Itachi answered, "When you think about it, our respective families aren't all that different, and I'm not just referring to the fact that we both come from bloodlines possessing powerful Kekkei Genkai. Yet the Hyūga Clan wound up in a very different place with respect to its position within the Leaf Village compared to that of the Uchiha Clan. I've found myself wondering… if just a few factors were shifted, a handful of variables altered… would your clan have come to the same fate as mine?"

Neji folded his arms. "Of course not. The Hyūga never had anyone like you among them."

"Not in its current incarnation," Itachi replied, once again focusing his gaze intently on Neji, "but things could have been different. Had enough time passed, perhaps your family would have found itself in the same place as mine before it all went to hell."

Now Neji was more confused than anything else. "What they hell are you talking about?"

"Your familiar with the history of the Leaf Village's founding, right?" Itachi asked.

Neji nodded, not sure what exactly that had to do with anything but playing along for the sake of finding clarity. "Of course. After generations of futile warfare, the Senju and Uchiha Clans finally declared a truce and eventually formed an alliance. That alliance gave birth to the Leaf Village, and most Shinobi clans that resided in the Land of Fire joined the village for the sake of security and mutual prosperity. The Hyūga were but one of those clans."

Itachi nodded. "A good enough summary. What do you know of the specific circumstances regarding the Hyūga Clan joining the Leaf Village?"

Neji's brow furrowed; it had been quite a long time since his history lessons, so it took him a few moments to recall that knowledge. "I think it was several months after the initial founding. Although Hyūga Clan representatives were present at the ceremony, they were only there in an observer capacity. The clan leadership were a bit hesitant to officially join. As one of the few clans possessing powerful ocular Kekkei Genkai, the Hyūga were wary of aligning with the holders of the Sharingan. I think we feared being made subordinate to them. The First Hokage and his brother personally lobbied the clan leadership, and negotiations went on for quite some time before the Hyūga finally agreed to official membership."

"I read similar accounts," Itachi remarked, "There was something that caught my attention in there; the party lobbying the Hyūga to convince them that they should join the Leaf Village consisted solely of representatives from the Senju Clan. In negotiations with other clans, the Uchiha would usually have an envoy present, but not when it came to the Hyūga. Don't you find that interesting?"

Neji shook his head. "Not really. While the Senju might've been the Uchiha Clan's chief rivals during the Warring States Period, they were never on great terms with the Uchiha, either. The family histories I was taught included multiple battles between my clan and yours. We didn't trust the Uchiha, so naturally the Lords Hashirama and Tobirama would've excluded your clan from those negotiations; Uchiha involvement would've only raised tensions."

"A reasonable argument," Itachi conceded, "but it misses a key point. This is purely my own conjecture, but I believe that the Hyūga Clan's wariness regarding the Uchiha was merely a useful pretext for the Senju, particularly Lord Tobirama, to keep us out of the negotiations with your family."

Neji blinked in confusion. "If that distrust wasn't the real reason, then what was?"

"Distrust of a different sort," said Itachi, "between the Senju and the Uchiha. Even with the war over and our newly declared partnership in effect, do you really think that the two clans fully trusted each other? Generations worth of grudges inflamed by life-and-death conflict do not just vanish overnight."

It took Neji a moment to realize what Itachi was getting at. "Are you saying that the Senju brought the Hyūga Clan into the Leaf Village as insurance against the Uchiha?"

"It would make sense," Itachi pointed out, "The Senju had plenty of experience in fighting the Uchiha, so they would appreciate the value of having a clan with their own powerful ocular Kekkei Genkai onside in the event of renewed hostilities."

Neji wanted to protest, but as he thought about it, he realized that the logic behind Itachi's point was sound. "Fight fire with fire… or close to it, anyway. Our eyes had different strengths and weaknesses than yours, so such a confrontation would be as much a matter of skill as the power of an individual's Kekkei Genkai. Then again, the Hyūga would hardly be fighting alone against the Uchiha if such a confrontation took place; they'd have the Senju and other clans of the village backing them up."

Itachi nodded. "Such a confrontation would doubtlessly be bloody and costly for both sides, but in the end, I believe the Senju, Hyūga and other loyalist clans would assuredly triumph. That raises another curious scenario, though."

"That scenario being?" asked Neji.

"For sake of argument, let's say that such a confrontation did take place," Itachi began, "For whatever reason, hostilities flare back up, with the Senju and Hyūga teaming up to take down the Uchiha Clan. The confrontation ends in victory for the Senju, Hyūga and their allies. Leaving aside the hypothetical fate of the Uchiha Clan in this scenario, such a victory would leave the Hyūga Clan as the Leaf Village's most prominent Clan possessing an ocular Kekkei Genkai… in a sense, your clan would take the place of mine. Not all that different compared to what happened in the aftermath of my slaughter of the Uchiha Clan, when you think about it."

Neji then saw Itachi's eyes narrow. "In such a scenario… your place in the Hyūga Clan might not be too far apart from mine in the Uchiha Clan."

Neji bristled at the comparison. "As if! You were the Uchiha Clan's rising star and heir that became a monster. I was a member of the Hyūga Clan's cadet branch, bound to serve the main branch."

"You were also hailed as the Hyūga Clan's genius," Itachi calmly countered, "and based on what I've seen of your abilities so far, that praise is not without merit. Cadet branch or otherwise, the clan would no doubt seek to make you as prominent as possible, a source of pride; your prowess would certainly reflect well upon them. In fact, that's not really far off from what actually happened, is it?"

Neji felt the urge to deny it, but he forced himself to take a step back and really consider the matter. What he found gave him pause.

"In a way… maybe," he eventually conceded, "In my younger days, I was considered the clan's rising star due to Hinata's lackluster progress and Hanabi being too young to take on a prominent role. I was the one that they pinned their pride on during the final stage of the Chūnin Exams, and even after I lost to Naruto, I was still considered the clan's most promising member. Hinata's skills eventually improved, and Hanabi grew as well, but I remained the clan's prodigy despite being part of the cadet branch."

He then glared at Itachi. "The difference, of course, is that I wouldn't have turned traitor and kin slayer."

"I would hope not," Itachi replied, "but circumstances can conspire to nudge us down paths we once thought beyond the pale."

Neji sensed an opening, and he immediately seized it. "Is that why you murdered your family? Circumstances 'nudged' you into it? Sounds pathetic if you ask me."

Itachi surprised him with a rueful chuckle. "I can't argue with that sentiment."

Once again, Neji was thrown for a loop. "What exactly am I missing here?"

Itachi did not answer the question, but instead offered one of his own. "Do you remember the dynamic between the Uchiha Clan and the rest of the Leaf Village in the final months leading up to the massacre? I know you were young, so I can understand if your recollections are limited. Still, given your clan's position vis-à-vis mine, I imagine there were whispers running around your home."

Neji blinked in confusion. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Humor me," said Itachi, "There is a point to it, I promise."

Neji took a deep and frustrated breath. "Well, you're right that I don't remember much. Back then, I didn't really pay attention to what was going on in the village if it didn't concern the clan. I mostly focused on my training. Still… I can recall some of the clan elders being worried about the Uchiha. The Leaf Military Police Force was throwing its weight around, roughing up suspects and even threatening people who just looked at them the wrong way. The Uchiha quarter wasn't considered a safe place for non-Uchiha to be anymore. I think the elders wanted the village leadership to put their foot down on the Uchiha, get them to reform their practices. Nothing really happened, though… and the Uchiha's behavior stopped mattering at all once you were through with them."

Itachi nodded. "When the dust settled, how did your clan's elders feel about the result?"

"How were they supposed to feel?" Neji snapped, "They were horrified at what you had done, just like the rest of the village! Just like any sane person would be."

"Oh, I'm sure that's what they expressed publicly," Itachi replied, "By the same token, though, I'll wager some of the clan's leadership was rather pleased in private. After all, with the Uchiha save for Sasuke slain, that left the Hyūga as one of the Leaf Village's most powerful clans, especially since they alone possessed a potent ocular Kekkei Genkai."

"Don't pretend that you did my clan any favors," Neji spat.

"I'm not pretending," Itachi countered, "I'm simply stating a what should be a rather obvious point. The near-complete demise of the Uchiha Clan provided a window of opportunity for the Hyūga Clan. Politics, like nature, abhor a vacuum. Can you honestly claim that the Hyūga Clan did not benefit from the downfall of an unofficial rival?"

At first glance, the very notion struck Neji as vile. For all his personal and valid grievances with the Hyūga Clan's main branch's dominance over its cadet branch and the cruel fate it had brought upon his father, Neji still took pride in the family name. To think of the Hyūga Clan so callously exploiting the aftermath of Itachi's butchering of the Uchiha Clan was very nearly a bridge too far.

And yet…

Forcing his indignation into the background, Neji tried to sift through his memories of that time period in a calm and rational manner. From the days after the massacre onward, he recalled some of the clan elders being in a rather strange state. Whenever they knew that others were watching, they made all the right gestures of polite grief for a fallen Leaf Village clan and sympathy for its sole survivor, all while pledging to step up their own service to the village leadership. However, upon closer scrutiny of his recollections, Neji came to an uncomfortable realization.

Whenever the clan elders believed the younger generation or any outsiders weren't looking, they'd seemed almost excited. The most prominent elders of the clan were more often away from the family grounds, being called into consultations with the council that governed the Leaf Village. Although no Hyūga Clan member was ever brought onto the council as an official member, the ties between the clan and the Leaf Village leadership seemed to be strengthened. Also, the Hyūga Clan had begun taking on a more prominent role in the Leaf Village's internal security. They didn't replace the Uchiha as the Leaf Military Police Force; the Force itself was dissolved in the aftermath of the massacre, with law enforcement duties instead being split up amongst the various Shinobi clans. Still, members of the Hyūga Clan that weren't commonly taking part in field missions could often be found supporting other Shinobi in keeping the peace within the bounds of the Leaf Village itself. It was a role that Neji supposed he and his kinsmen would be well-equipped for given the power of the Byakugan.

A role that could no longer be filled by the Uchiha.

Neji shook his head. "Even if the Hyūga might've benefited from the downfall of the Uchiha Clan, couldn't you say the same for other clans? Of course, you could offset that with the fact that the entire village suffered from the massacre."

Itachi inclined his head. "A fact that I would not dispute, but that's separate from the point I'm trying to make here. My point is that the Hyūga rose considerably in prominence. They did so while remaining aligned with the Senju Clan… but what if it didn't stay that way?"

Neji scowled. "Why would that change? We're loyal to the Leaf Village. We have been since we joined. We've had our issues with the village leadership, but so has every other clan, and we've always sorted things out diplomatically. The Uchiha would've been no different if you hadn't killed them."

"Would they have?" asked Itachi, and Neji was struck by the sudden softness of his tone, "Never underestimate the power of pride, Neji… or that of grievance. They have a special sort of gravity to them, if you will."

Things were quiet between them for a minute or two before Itachi spoke again. "The Uchiha held their place of prominence within the Leaf Village since its inception. Not quite equal to the Senju Clan, but with the power to enforce law and order over the other clans. With the Uchiha's demise, the Hyūga could step forward and take their place in the sun. Your clan's held its new prominent position for many years now, yet in comparison with the tenure of the Uchiha, that prestige remains quite young. Back when I was alive, the Leaf Village held the Hyūga Clan in high regard; your family was one of the most valuable assets at the Hokage's disposal. Power and prominence are double-edged swords, though."

Neji bristled at the implication. "Are you saying that we would've eventually let our prestige go to our heads? That's absurd. The Hyūga can be proud, yes, but we've earned that pride, and we know how to put it aside in the name of service to the Leaf Village."

"So did the Uchiha," Itachi remarked as he looked up at the evening sky, his focus seemingly no longer on the present conversation, "once upon a time, at least."

Neji recognized a chance, and he took it. "Is that what happened with the Uchiha? You're saying they became too prideful?"

"All Shinobi clans have their pride," Itachi replied, "How they handle it is what impacts their fate. The Uchiha were proud, yes. So were the Senju. So were the Hyūga. I'm curious as to where that pride will lead. In the Leaf Village back in our old Realm of the Living, Sasuke is giving the Uchiha Clan a new chance at life. Since that clan now only consists of himself, his wife and their daughter, the Uchiha are still a long way from the might of their old days… regardless of how personally powerful the three of them might be. The Hyūga still seemed to be going quite strong if what I saw during my brief visit was any indicator. From what Jiraiya's told me, they're going even stronger in the afterlife's Leaf Village. As more time passes, I have to wonder where that strength combined with pride will ultimately lead. Pride and strength in a prominent clan can inspire arrogance in that clan… and distrust in those around them. Distrust that flows both ways and can lead to catastrophe if not recognized and mitigated in time."

Neji grimaced. "Maybe… and maybe the Uchiha Clan's pride and power brought on some arrogance. The Leaf Military Police Force members I remember seeing as a kid definitely looked like they had a chip on their shoulder. Still, what did it matter in the end? You killed them all before anything more could come of it."

Itachi slowly nodded. "I did."

Something about Itachi's response struck Neji as odd. It was an honest enough answer, yet it felt as though it was meant for something different than what Neji had said.

He saw Itachi study him for a moment or two before the former Akatsuki member gave a very small shake of his head, as if Neji had failed some kind of test. "It's getting late. We should pick up speed now. Academy classes still start early in the morning, after all. It wouldn't do for you, your class's star pupil, to be late."

"Hold on!" Neji protested as he reached out to grab Itachi's arm, only for the former Shinobi to effortlessly slip beyond his grasp, "What was all this really about? What do you want from me?"

"To learn from history," Itachi answered with a haunting look in his eyes, "so that if you're ever confronted with the same choice I was, you'll make a better one than I did."

"What choice?" Neji pressed.

"Find that answer yourself," Itachi replied, "You're already much closer to it than you might think. Reflect on what we spoke of tonight. In time, I have faith that you'll come to an appropriate conclusion."

Before Neji could say anything else, the Soul Reaper became a blur on the wind as he Flash Stepped away, vanishing into the night.

….

A few weeks later…

First full moon of summer…

"You almost had me a couple of times back there," Soi-Fon remarked as she and her dance partner stepped out of the ring, "Your Zanjutsu gets better with every match we have."

Mikoto smiled and inclined her head. "Well, that's because I've had such a skilled teacher and sparring partner these past years. Thanks to you, we were both able to put on a good show tonight. The Head Captain certainly thought as much."

"Indeed," Soi-Fon replied as she cast her gaze towards the upraised platform, "Head Captain Yamamoto isn't an easy judge to please at the Blade Dancer Festival. Winning his compliments is a high point for any Soul Reaper."

"Shall we go celebrate, then?" Mikoto suggested as she gestured at the stalls lining the edges of the plaza, "After that bout, I think we've earned the right to treat ourselves."

Soi-Fon was not about to argue with her on that; she'd actually worked up a sweat during the bout, so some refreshment was definitely in order. "Sounds good to me."

Fresh pyrotechnic blossoms of orange and red bloomed overhead as the latest of Kūkaku Shiba's toys bathed the Blade Dancer Festival in their light. It was a few hours into the event now, and an electric air seemed to possess the crowds surrounding the rings. The song of clashing steel could barely be heard over the cacophony of cheers and the detonations of fireworks above. While Soi-Fon normally preferred a quieter atmosphere, she was willing to make exceptions for celebrations and festivities like this.

My ears are going to ringing all day tomorrow, she thought, but I guess it's alright. The day after the Blade Dancer Festival's always a slow one.

As her gaze idly drifted over the crowd, her eyes caught a gap in the throngs of spectators that was just wide enough to reveal another of the sparring rings. A bout was in full swing, with Squad Three's Captain Rōjūrō Ōtoribashi looking on as the judge, and the contestants…

…were Yoruichi and Itachi.

Soi-Fon could not help but feel a pang of jealousy as she watched the two of them cross blades. It was true that she had already shared a match with Yoruichi tonight, but she hadn't gotten an invitation for a repeat performance, whereas this was Itachi's second round with her this evening. Doubtlessly, the two lovebirds would have another go at each other before the night was through, unless they decided to just slip away to the barracks after this bout.

She felt a tugging at her arm, and Soi-Fon turned to see Mikoto looking at her with a gentle and sympathetic expression. "I know how you feel, but how do you think Yoruichi would react if she knew that this was getting you down?"

Soi-Fon took a deep breath before smiling. "She'd order me to lighten up and have some fun… which is what I should be doing tonight. Sorry."

Mikoto shook her head. "Don't apologize. Like I said, I know how you feel. Still, tonight's the sort of occasion where happy memories should be made. It'd be a shame to spend it dwelling on regrets of what might've been, wouldn't it?"

"It would," Soi-Fon concurred as she focused her gaze on the nearest stalls, "So, what did you want to try first?"

"Oh, why don't you pick?" Mikoto suggested, "I'll treat you."

Soi-Fon raised an eyebrow. "It's not like I'm poor, Mikoto. Stealth Force pay is just as good as Soul Reaper pay. Actually, I think mine's even better than yours since I lead Lady Yoruichi's personal guard."

Mikoto giggled. "Oh, I know that, silly! I'm feeling generous tonight, so let me spoil you a bit. Come on, please?"

Soi-Fon sighed in only mild exasperation before smiling again. "Alright, if you insist."

"I very much do," said Mikoto, "What do you have in mind?"

Scanning the stalls again, Soi-Fon was intrigued to see that one had a much larger crowd than the others. She could not see much past the throng of people, but the dark green banner overhead was hard to miss. It read, in very large white characters, 'Fruit-flavored candies!' Candy vendors weren't exactly uncommon at the Blade Dancer Festival, but this one seemed considerably more popular than the others, and Soi-Fon was intrigued as to what made it so special.

"How about some sweets, then?" Soi-Fon suggested as she nodded at the stall.

Mikoto brought her hands together in a clap before her. "Sounds good! I've actually been eying that stall for a while. It's looking pretty popular tonight. Let's go see what all the fuss is about. We might be in line for a while, but we've got plenty of time."

They made their way on over, with Soi-Fon standing on her tip-toes in a vain effort to see over the crowd. She silently cursed her relatively diminutive stature; it wasn't doing her any favors right now. Of course, she could just jump, but she didn't want to make a scene.

Mikoto glanced over at her and smirked. "I could put you up on my shoulders, if you want."

Soi-Fon shook her head. "No, that's not necessary."

Mikoto looked mildly disappointed. "Are you sure? I haven't had anyone ride piggyback since Itachi and Sasuke were little…"

"We'd look ridiculous if I did that," Soi-Fon pointed out.

"It's a festival," Mikoto shot back, "That's the sort of occasion where you're supposed to look ridiculous."

Soi-Fon remained adamant in her refusal. "The Blade Dancer Festival's a special case, Mikoto."

Mikoto let out an exaggerated sigh in defeat before winking. "Fine, go ahead and ruin my fun."

As Soi-Fon and Mikoto gradually worked their way up towards the front of the crowd, she began to hear a familiar voice. She bristled at the sound of it, immediately regretting her choice of stalls.

"Maybe we should pick another one," she suddenly said, "This one's getting plenty of business, so we should patronize a less fortunate vendor."

Mikoto wasn't having it, instead putting her hands on Soi-Fon's shoulders and firmly nudging her forward. "Come on, Soi-Fon; it's rude to back out just because you don't like who's running the show here. You should at least give him a chance."

"I give him plenty already," Soi-Fon grumbled, "That's the only reason why he's still in our unit."

Still, she ceased her efforts to back out. They were close to the front now, and it was clear that Mikoto definitely wanted to try what was on offer here. Soi-Fon would humor her, though she was determined not to enjoy it.

I'm not going to give that slacker the satisfaction…

Before she could finish that train of thought, the man in charge of the stall caught sight of her and Mikoto. "Hey, look who's come by! Welcome!"

"Hello, Kisuke," Mikoto replied with a friendly wave, "Oh, Tessai's here too! My, my, you two sure are busy tonight."

Now at the front of the crowd, Soi-Fon found herself face to face with Squad Two's Third Seat and the leader of the Kidō Corps. Both were in their official uniforms, which made for a rather jarring sight considering they were manning a candy shop right now. The table in front of them was lined with bags of spherical candies in a rainbow of colors, with Tessai almost constantly fishing out more from beneath the stall given how fast they seemed to be selling.

Soi-Fon bristled as Kisuke turned his gaze towards her. "Soi-Fon, what a pleasant surprise! Didn't think I'd see you swinging by here."

"Don't get used to it," Soi-Fon muttered as she shot a withering glare at him.

"Now, now, there's no need for that," Mikoto gently admonished, "We're here in the spirit of festivity, not to quarrel."

Tessai inclined his head. "Well spoken, Thirteenth Seat Uchiha. By the way, congratulations on your recent promotion. A bit overdue, but well earned. I'm surprised Yoruichi didn't get around to it sooner."

Mikoto bowed in gratitude. "You're too kind, Tessai, though I wouldn't hold Yoruichi at fault for the delay. You know how much personnel shuffling work can come along with promotions, after all. I'm simply grateful that she saw fit to honor me with the elevation."

"Quite true," Tessai concurred with a small smile as he looked back and forth between her and Soi-Fon, "Well, let us honor the occasion by giving you our best wares. What say you, Kisuke?"

"That's what we're here for," Kisuke replied with a grin.

Soi-Fon's wary gaze swept up and down the table. Yes, the candies did look good, but these were candies made by the likes of Kisuke; who knew what had put inside them?

Kisuke chuckled, almost as if he had read Soi-Fon's mind. "Come on, Soi-Fon; why the long face? You don't trust me to make quality goods? Yoruichi does! She and Itachi swung by here earlier and both bought bags. They looked like they were enjoying them, too."

Soi-Fon looked at Mikoto, who smiled warmly. "I don't think we really have to worry here. Think of it this way; Kisuke's gotten so many customers tonight already that we surely would've noticed ill-effects in his customers if something was wrong with the candy."

It was a reasonable observation. As she looked around, Soi-Fon saw plenty of people milling about nearby with open bags, happily popping the colorful and gleaming spheres into their mouths, and sucking on them with delight.

"I suppose so," she begrudgingly conceded.

"Here, how about this?" Kisuke offered as he fished his hand into one of the bags and pulled out several candies before holding them out in his palm for Mikoto and Soi-Fon, "I'll let you both try one for free. If you get sick, I'll let you have a free punch at me. Deal?"

Mikoto chuckled before giving Soi-Fon a knowing smirk. "Sounds like a win-win, wouldn't you agree?"

Soi-Fon could not resist a small smile as the mental image of her fist hitting Kisuke's face flashed through her mind. "Well, when you put it that way… fine. I guess if you were working on a new poison, you wouldn't be testing it here."

"Since when do I work on poisons?" Kisuke asked in a matter that Soi-Fon could not quite tell if he was being sincere or mocking.

Mikoto nudged Soi-Fon on the shoulder. "Soi-Fon, we're holding up the line here. Pick one."

"What about you?" asked Soi-Fon.

Mikoto scratched her chin in thought for a moment before snatching an orange sphere out of Kisuke's hand and immediately putting it in her mouth. Soi-Fon watched anxiously as Mikoto sucked on it for a few seconds before the woman smiled again.

"Oh, this is heavenly," she declared as her tongue swirled around the orb, "Soi-Fon, you have to try these!"

Soi-Fon was still a bit hesitant, but Mikoto's enthusiastic reaction proved to be infectious. In the end, she settled on taking a dark red orb and cautiously licking it. The sweetness of strawberries washed over her tongue, and whatever doubts Soi-Fon still had were firmly washed away. She took the whole orb into her mouth and wasted no further time in drawing out every drop of flavor she could from it.

Kisuke grinned triumphantly. "I knew you couldn't resist!"

Soi-Fon tried to glower at him, but she was enjoying her treat too much for the gesture to have any real bite to it. "Don't let it go to your head."

"We'll take two bags, Kisuke," Mikoto chimed in as she fished out her purse from her robes.

Tessai passed over the bags while Kisuke took the money. "Pleasure doing business with you, ladies. Enjoy the rest of the festival!"

"We certainly will!" Mikoto cheerfully promised as she and Soi-Fon stepped away.

The two of them found a free bench a little way down the plaza and sat down. Both spent a few minutes in contented silence enjoying Kisuke's wares, with Soi-Fon's estimation of the man reluctantly rising a notch. He was still too care-free for her tastes, and she remained more than wary of his other strange off-duty activities, but Soi-Fon would give credit where it was due; Kisuke's candy was some of the best she'd ever had in the Seireitei.

"Thanks," Soi-Fon muttered as she worked her orb down to a swallowable size.

Mikoto smirked and put her right hand next to her ear. "What was that? I can barely hear you over Kūkaku's fireworks!"

Soi-Fon lightly elbowed her in mocking admonishment. "You know what I said. You can lip read just as well as I can."

Mikoto giggled like a schoolgirl caught in a prank. "Oh, silly me!"

After they had downed a couple more orbs, Mikoto smiled as she gestured at the ongoing festivities. "You know, I never imagined back when I was alive that the afterlife could be so much fun. I think that I've gone to more festivals in my second life now than I did in my first."

Soi-Fon's eyebrows raised slightly; she was always keen to learn more about Mikoto's past life whenever her friend was willing to venture down memory lane. "Did the Leaf Village not hold many festivals?"

"Oh, no, it held plenty," Mikoto answered, "New years celebrations, summer solstice, Academy graduations, anniversary of the village's founding; there were all sorts of occasions that called for a party. It was more scheduling conflicts and personal obligations that kept me from parting in many of them. At first it was my missions keeping me away from the festivities, so when I settled down with Fugaku and started a family I thought that things would change and I'd get to experience more of those celebrations. Then we had Itachi and Sasuke, and raising them took priority, though we did manage to catch a couple festivals as a family. Not nearly as many as I would've liked, though. With the way things were between our clan and the village… well, social gatherings could become rather tense affairs. Maybe if things had turned out differently, I would've been able to go to more, especially once the boys got older. It wasn't meant to be, though."

Soi-Fon nodded. "I guess I can relate to that. My childhood was dominated by intense training in preparation for entering the Stealth Force and serving Lady Yoruichi, so me and my brothers weren't really given much time to go to festivals. Even after graduation, I was determined to focus on my duties above all else. When I first started going to such celebrations, it was only in my capacity as Lady Yoruichi's bodyguard."

Soi-Fon then smiled softly. "Of course, Lady Yoruichi quickly caught onto that. She was the one who first showed me how to really start enjoying occasions like this. I always wanted to make her happy, and her smile was the brightest whenever I started really getting into things like the Blade Dancer Festival for their own sake rather than just treating it as another mission. If it wasn't for her, I might not ever have partaken in events like this."

"She does have that effect on those around her, doesn't she?" Mikoto remarked with a smile of her own, "You and Itachi are alike in that way; you've both become more open to enjoying the lighter side of life because of her. She pulled you both out of your comfort zones and showed you what life really has to offer."

"She did," Soi-Fon concurred as she turned her gaze skywards in time to catch a series of blue and yellow fireworks detonating.

She and Mikoto enjoyed the pyrotechnics and candy for a few minutes of contented silence before the former Shinobi spoke again. "Soi-Fon, did your mother ever take you out for any sort of fun?"

Soi-Fon sighed as her mind went back to a youth of grueling drills and sparring matches with relentless and brutal instructors. "Not that I can remember. Her focus was on making sure we were prepared for the responsibilities that we'd inherit as vassals of the Shihōin Clan. Lectures, combat training, wilderness survival exercises, infiltration sessions… those were my childhood."

Mikoto shook her head. "That hardly seems fair. Shinobi start our training at a young age, but we're still allowed time to ourselves, and for friends and family. Forgive me for saying this, but I can't help feeling that your mother robbed you and your brothers of something that all children should have; an innocent childhood. I can understand the pressure that she might've been under in preparing you to serve Yoruichi's family and the Soul Society, but she took it too far."

Soi-Fon nodded as a mournful look came to her eyes. "That was Lady Yoruichi's sentiment, too. When she first voiced it, I couldn't really understand why she felt that way. I was so focused on what I had been trained and taught to do that I wasn't capable of questioning whether or not the methods of that instruction were right. Looking back… while I'm grateful for what I was taught, I suppose it would've been nice to know what else was out there beyond my intended purpose. I've at least got a chance to find out now… I wish I could say the same for my brothers."

Mikoto put an arm around her and pulled Soi-Fon in for a hug. "I'm sorry, Soi-Fon. I didn't mean to open old wounds."

Soi-Fon gave her friend what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "It's alright, Mikoto. The past is the past; we can't change it. All we can do is learn from it… and apply those lessons to our lives so that we can enjoy a brighter future. It's the best way to honor those that are no longer with us."

Mikoto smiled in return. "That's a very good way to look at it. If your brothers could see you now, Soi-Fon, I bet they'd be proud of you."

"I hope so," Soi-Fon softly murmured.

Mikoto then stood up. "Well, the night's still young, and so is the Blade Dancer Festival. I can't say that I'm ready for another bout just yet, but there are still plenty of vendors for us to browse. Care to join me for a stroll? We might find something just as wonderful as these candies to amuse ourselves with."

Soi-Fon rose to her feet and nodded. "I'd love to."

The two of them set off at a leisurely pace, with Soi-Fon's gaze idly drifting back and forth between the stalls along the plaza's perimeter and towards the sparring rings. Through brief gaps in the crowd, she caught glimpses of ongoing duels. Soi-Fon could see Shisui and Visaelya engaged in a spirited bout, while the next ring over played host to a dance between Jiraiya and Captain Unohana. Soi-Fon's eyes narrowed momentarily as she focused on the latter duel. It was not the first time that she'd seen Captain Unohana partake in a bout with Jiraiya, but it always left her with a question; just what did Squad Four's revered leader see in such an oaf?

Well, I guess he's not completely an oaf, she begrudgingly admitted while watching Jiraiya hold his own with Unohana, but still… why does she play along with him? What's she after here?

Her attention was drawn away from the duel by Mikoto pulling on her arm. "Soi-Fon, over here!"

Shifting her gaze, Soi-Fon found that Mikoto was dragging her towards a vendor selling items tailored towards both women and young girls. Much of it was dominated by clothing, with a veritable rainbow of brilliant and vibrant kimonos and sashes hanging under a covered are, with even a small and secluded space guarded by drapes should prospective shoppers wish to try on the wares. Along multiple tables were strewn makeup sets, small handheld mirrors, ribbons and hairpins, cheap jewelry, and other such baubles.

The stall-keeper, an elderly woman wearing a bright blue kimono with purple and pink firework patterns embroidered on it, smiled as they approached. "Welcome, ladies! What here strikes your fancy?"

"Oh, I don't know where to even start," Mikoto remarked as her eyes swept up and down the tables.

"How about you, young miss?" the woman asked as she focused on Soi-Fon, "Perhaps a little something to brighten up that ensemble of yours? Not my place to judge Soul Reapers for the uniforms forced upon them, but wearing black all the time must get old. Why not spice things up a bit?"

"Uhm… I'm not sure…" Soi-Fon murmured, feeling rather overwhelmed by what was on display.

Shopping for fashion accessories was a bit outside of Soi-Fon's wheelhouse, though it was not for lack of trying. In the past, Yoruichi had taken her to vendors in both the Seireitei and out in the Rukon District for casual outings, yet Soi-Fon has felt so out of place at such stores that it had been difficult for her to pick anything. The best she'd been able to do was follow Yoruichi's lead until she found something that vaguely seemed to speak to her, but she didn't have Yoruichi as a guide here.

She did have Mikoto, though, who was already stepping in to fill that role. "Why not something for your hair, Soi-Fon? Maybe a ribbon or pin? Something cute that won't get in the way?"

Soi-Fon slowly nodded; she could work with that, though it still left her with a dizzying array of choices. "Okay… let's take a look."

She and Mikoto leaned down together to closely appraise the various ribbons and pins on the tables. It was such an odd experience for Soi-Fon; she purposely kept her hair short and unadorned for practicality's sake. She never really considered that, even in such a plain and pragmatic style, she could still play around with it.

"Goodness, there's so many options here," Mikoto murmured as she looked back and forth between the displays and Soi-Fon, "So many possibilities…."

Soi-Fon raised an eyebrow. "Not that I'm complaining, but you seem really into this."

Mikoto smiled. "Well, when your children are both boys, there's not much that they'll let you do with their hair. Itachi would sometimes let me tie his back in that ponytail instead of him doing it himself, but that was pretty much it. With you, though…"

Soi-Fon's chest was filled with warmth at what Mikoto left unspoken, and she couldn't help but let slip a small smile. What Mikoto wanted here was something that Soi-Fon had never gotten from her mother… but now she realized just how much she'd always wanted it from her.

Mikoto's eyes widened in perhaps belated embarrassment. "Oh, I'm sorry, So-Fon! Listen to me, going on like this… treating you like a child…"

Soi-Fon reached over to put a hand on her shoulder, gently cutting her off as her smile grew ever so slightly. "No, please; don't apologize, Mikoto. Not for this."

That seemed enough to reassure Mikoto, because her ensuing smile was brighter than the latest round of Kūkaku's fireworks exploding overhead. "Alright, then."

The former Shinobi's eyes swept over the tables again, and Soi-Fon saw them zero in on a particular point just a moment later. "Hey… how about these?"

Following Mikoto's gaze, Soi-Fon saw that her friend was focusing on a pair of ribbons, one yellow and one black. There was nothing particularly special about them save for the colors, yet that alone was enough to get Soi-Fon's attention… and that of her Zanpakutō.

Her eyes are sharp, Suzumebachi chirped in Soi-Fon's mind, Mikoto's got a great fashion sense… though I guess when compared to you, the bar's not set all that high.

Hey! I don't have bad fashion sense; I've just never prioritized it.

In your case, what's the difference?

Soi-Fon fought to suppress a wince; her Zanpakutō's words were hitting just a bit too close to home, and she didn't want Mikoto to worry about her. "I… I like them. Although… what would I do with them?"

Mikoto winked playfully. "Leave that to me!"

Soi-Fon shrugged before reaching for her purse, only for Mikoto to beat her to the punch. "Please, let me."

Soi-Fon's eyes widened slightly. "But you already paid for the candy. It's not fair to have you buy me everything tonight."

"I really don't mind," Mikoto insisted before gesturing at the price tag next to the ribbons, "Besides, it's not like these cost all that much."

Soi-Fon fidgeted. "Still…"

"Come on, let me spoil you tonight," Mikoto pleaded, "Indulge me, Soi-Fon. For a friend?"

Soi-Fon exhaled in exasperation before smiling for that friend. "Fine… but don't expect me to go easy on you in training tomorrow just because you're treating me to sweets and ribbons tonight. You got that?"

Mikoto laughed. "Wouldn't dream of it!"

In addition to the ribbons, Mikoto also purchased one of the small handheld mirrors before Soi-Fon could object to the last-minute addition. With the stall-keeper bidding them farewell, Soi-Fon found herself pulled along rapidly by her companion through the crowded plaza until they managed to claim one of the few empty benches remaining.

"Now, I need you to do me one more favor," said Mikoto, "Close your eyes, please?"

"Just what are you planning now?" asked Soi-Fon warily.

"Humor me," Mikoto insisted.

"I feel like I've done that enough tonight," Soi-Fon grumbled before relenting, "but, if you insist…"

Closing her eyes, Soi-Fon tried to tune out the roar of the festival goers and fireworks so she could focus purely on what Mikoto was doing. It wasn't all that hard; the sensation of Mikoto's fingers running through and manipulating her hair was impossible to miss… and not unpleasant, either. Soi-Fon couldn't quite put her finger on it, but the feeling took her mind back to brief snippets and flashes of days long gone…

…of what little she could recall of her childhood before grueling training and study had taken it over.

Of fingers going through her hair, and a surprisingly cheerful voice behind her… one that was almost unrecognizable from that of the harsh taskmaster it belonged to.

"Hold still just a moment longer, dear. Mommy's almost done!"

Mother… were you really like that with me, once upon a time? Those days… I can recall so little of them now. I wish it were otherwise.

Do you, too?

"Soi-Fon?" asked a much more familiar and immediate voice, "Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?"

Soi-Fon only belatedly realized that a lump had formed in her throat, and the edges of her eyes had become moist. She was stunned to find that the sensation and long-buried memories that came with it had nearly brought her to the edge of tears, and she raced to reassert her composure.

"I'm… alright," Soi-Fon reassured her friend, smiling as she cleared her throat and successfully kept the tears from flowing while keeping her eyes squeezed shut, "Please… keep going, Mikoto."

"It won't be much longer," Mikoto promised her, "Just about… done. There we go… oh, my."

"Did something go wrong?" Soi-Fon asked.

"No, quite the opposite," Mikoto replied, and even though her eyes were still shut Soi-Fon was certain that Itachi's mother was smiling, "I didn't think it'd come together so well. Soi-Fon, you can open your eyes now."

Soi-Fon did so, and found herself face-to-face with the handheld mirror Mikoto had bought earlier. The face staring back at her was still very much her own, with the only change being that the locks falling along the right side of her face were now bound together in the yellow and black ribbons Mikoto had bought her. It was an asymmetrical look, but one Soi-Fon found that she rather liked.

"What do you think?" Mikoto asked with a hopeful smile.

Reaching up to run her fingers along the locks and the ribbons that tied them, Soi-Fon returned her friend's smile. "I like it. It's different… I never would've thought to try it before."

Mikoto's smile grew. "If you want, I can show you how I did it later so you can recreate it yourself. In the meantime, why don't we go show off a bit? I can think of a few friends who would like to see this side of you."

"Sure," said Soi-Fon, "Can we start with Lady Yoruichi?"

"Naturally!" Mikoto answered with wink as she rose to her feet and held out her hand, "She was the first one that I had in mind."

Soi-Fon accepted Mikoto's hand and was quickly hauled to her feet. "Good. After that, how about you and I go another round in the ring?"

"Sounds like a plan to me," Mikoto chirped, beaming as purple and red pyrotechnic blossoms bloomed in the night sky above.

….

Several months later…

Fall Solstice, Flame of Life Festival

"Are you sure this is okay?" asked Shisui as Visaelya led him back towards the white dome that was the Drakken Clan's famed Dragon Lair.

"Of course, silly!" Visaelya replied with a relaxed smile, "Mother and Father wouldn't have given us permission otherwise."

"I'm not so much worried about them as I am about what's inside there," Shisui clarified as he gestured at the great looming structure that housed the fearsome mounts of Visaelya's family, "Don't dragons get agitated around people they're not familiar with?"

"It'd be a problem if you were alone," Visaelya answered, "but you're with me, so you've got nothing to worry about. Well, unless you're worried about getting that fine kimono of yours dirty. Soot and dust are unavoidable in there."

Smoothing over a wrinkle in his red and black Kimono, Shisui then swept his gaze up and down Visaelya, admiring the violet robe with golden-dragon embroidery that adorned her. "Well, at least I won't be the only one risking their best robes tonight."

Visaelya shrugged. "I can send both mine and yours to Mother tomorrow for my family's cleaners to take care of. You'd be amazed what they're capable of removing; our kimonos will look like they were never blemished at all."

"That's reassuring," Shisui murmured.

"Glad you think so," said Visaelya as she nodded at the dome ahead, "You really do have more important matters to concern yourself with right now than getting ash and soot on your robes."

"Hasn't it been a while since you were last up close and personal with any of these creatures?" Shisui asked, "Maybe they don't remember you as well as you think they do… or there's a new dragon in there that doesn't know you at all."

Visaelya shook her head. "That's not the problem you think it is. My family's been inviting me over more often these past few years, remember? I've actually been into the Dragon Lair several times as of late. Even if I hadn't, our family's steeds have long memories; it would take much longer than a few years away for them to forget my scent. As for your concern about a potential new dragon that's unfamiliar with me, that won't be an issue. All dragons that are brought into our Seireitei estate are ones that have gone through our family's binding ritual. Even if they don't know me personally, they'll recognize my scent and spiritual pressure as belonging to the Drakken Clan. As long as I treat them with due deference, they won't be a threat."

"Not to you, maybe," Shisui murmured apprehensively as they drew near one of the ground-level entrances of the dome.

Visaelya turned around and gave his hand a squeeze. "Shisui, it's going to be alright. I promise. Just stay close to me and follow my lead. You trust me, don't you?"

Shisui took a deep breath before nodding. "I do. It's just… well, I've never been this close to a dragon before. They're not like anything I've ever dealt with in the past. I'd honestly prefer taking on a Menos Grande; those, I know how to handle."

"You're not going to have to 'handle' a dragon, today or otherwise," Visaelya reassured him, "The ones bound to members of my clan are no threat to our guests. Now, if we were out east in our Principality and stumbled upon a wild dragon, then we would have a problem. Fortunately, we're not out there right now. Besides, a wild dragon can't even get close to the outer edges of the Rukon District without being detected; they're not exactly subtle creatures, after all. If one did find its way out here, my family would've already been called upon to contain or neutralize it. There's no such threat here for you to worry about."

"True," Shisui conceded.

She leaned forward to plant a soft kiss on his lips. "If it makes you feel any better, I used to get scared coming here, too. Part of me still is; an old saying in our family is that any Drakken who doesn't know to fear dragons has no right to ride them. Everyone thinks our control over them is total, but that's not actually the case. They're not mere mounts or beasts of war; they have wills of their own, and to discount that is folly. The key is to temper that fear with respect. They can sense both; their emotional intelligence is much higher than many might realize. Show them that respect, acknowledge their power, and do exactly what I say in there, and it'll all work out."

Shisui smiled, though he could not completely banish his trepidation… which he supposed was the point. "And if one of them decides we've overstayed our welcome?"

"Let me put it this way," Visaelya replied with a devil-may-care smile, "If you see me start running, don't fall behind."

Shisui chuckled. "Well, I'm faster than you, so that won't be a problem. Actually, if we need to beat a hasty retreat, it might be better if I carry you! That way you'll keep up with me."

Visaelya rolled her eyes, though Shisui didn't fail to notice a slight hint of crimson in her cheeks. "I highly doubt that will be necessary."

She then batted her eyelashes at him. "Although… I suppose that I wouldn't be opposed to it."

She set off before Shisui could reply, pulling him firmly along behind her. The tall and broad entrance before them was suitably imposing, with images of dragons in flight and breathing fire engraved on the marble walls and illuminated by flickering torches. Four men stood guard, two on each side. They all struck Shisui as rather rough individuals, with each possessing a formidable build. They were clad in dull grey armor, and Shisui could sense spirit energy coming from the plates. It had to be Spirit Armor, and he guessed that it had likely been enhanced to protect the wearers from flames. Based on the burn scars he could see on the faces of the guards, the protection offered clearly wasn't perfect. Each hulking man held a two-pronged spear, while straight short swords were sheathed at their hips. Shisui expected to be challenged, but all four guards simply bowed to him and Visaelya, letting them pass without fuss. They eyed him warily, but none spoke so much as a single word.

"Is it really that easy?" he asked as Visaelya grabbed a torch from its mount along the wall and gave it fresh fuel, "They just let anyone march on in? Not even asking for our names?"

"My parents have already notified them that my access rights to the Lair are restored," she explained, "and the guards serving us are made to memorize the faces of family members. Anyone in my company is assumed to have my blessings and theirs by extension."

"I see," said Shisui as they proceed into the dark and cavernous space, the light from the torch causing shadows to dance along the walls, "Let's hope the dragons give their blessing."

Look at it this way, Kage no Kodomo chimed in, at least you'll have a more exciting party story to tell than Itachi! Seeing dragons up close beats the hell out of people watching.

True… though people watching is safer than this.

Don't be so sure. Remember what kind of people he's on the lookout for tonight.

Believe me, I hadn't forgotten.

Just as in the past, Visaelya's family had allowed her to bring two guests to the clan's annual Flame of Life Festival, and she'd once again chosen Itachi to come along with Shisui. Unlike that innocent first festival from several years ago, though, Itachi and Shisui had come for more than just to support their dear friend and comrade; they were here on a mission. Specifically, the off-the-books investigation that had been ongoing ever since that fateful chance discovery of Inabi and Yashiro lurking amongst the Drakken Clan.

In truth, Shisui wasn't holding out much hope for progress on that front tonight. Despite their best efforts and plenty of invitations by Visaelya's parents for her to bring her closest friend in Squad Two to the estate for visits, Shisui had not spotted so much as a trace of any Uchiha Clan members. Neither had Itachi during subsequent festivals and celebrations, but both Soul Reapers were determined to keep up the effort. Intelligence operations like this one were marathons, not sprints; persistence and patience were the key to success. They had to be relentless and thorough, on the lookout for so much as the tiniest bit of evidence.

Part of Shisui wanted to believe that the sightings during that first festival had spooked Inabi, Yashiro, and any of their compatriots to the point that they'd abandoned the Drakken Clan mansion altogether. With Visaelya finally reconnecting with her family and rebuilding their previously estranged relationship, the last thing he wanted was for the dregs of the Uchiha Clan's past to ruin it. The change that such progress had brought upon Visaelya was noticeable; her smiles were brighter these days, her steps lighter, and her voice so much more joyful. She was genuinely happy, and Shisui wanted to do all he could to preserve that happiness. Getting confirmation that the Drakken Clan was in league with the worst elements of the Uchiha Clan would be nothing less than a dagger to Visaelya's heart, one that Shisui feared she might not recover from.

It's been years now since Inabi or Yashiro have shown their ugly mugs. Let them have moved on. Please, let them have moved on. Let them be anywhere but here.

Wishful thinking. Do you really believe that people with their level of ambition would abandon a base of operations, a power base, as useful as this?

As much as he might want to argue otherwise, Shisui knew that the spirit of his Zanpakutō had a valid point. If the more power-hungry elements of the Uchiha Clan were active in the Soul Society and looking for a position to exert influence, then they couldn't do much better than operating out of a Great Noble House's mansion. It gave them the best possible inside access to intel on Seireitei politics, not to mention an advantageous perch for them to monitor Soul Reapers from. After all, there was a very good reason why the current investigation was off-the-books; trying to pry into a Great Noble House through official channels was just asking for a shitstorm. The Drakken Clan were not only playing host to the Uchiha, but they were also acting as a shield and veil, one that would be very difficult to pierce.

Shisui tried to brainstorm ways in which he and Itachi may yet draw their targets out into the open, but it was difficult to keep that train of thought on track as Visaelya took him deep into the Dragon Lair. The already wide entrance corridor they had proceeded through, more than spacious enough for even the largest of dragons to crawl through, gradually began to broaden until it opened into a vast central chamber. Illumination was provided by torches mounted along the walls along with moonlight and burst of fireworks that filtered through the giant hole in the structure's roof, but the chamber was still so wide that said light seemed to get swallowed up by shadow. Looking around, Shisui saw no less than a dozen high and vaulted archways, each one flanked by torches while gates consisting of vertical steel bars were suspended by thick chains, each no doubt capable of dropping instantly at the first sign of trouble. Each archway led into blackness; the nests of each individual dragon, according to what Visaelya had told him earlier, extended deep underground. Several dragon keepers, all men clad in Spirit Armor similar to those of the guards outside the dome, were busy relighting torches or large carts laden with freshly slaughtered livestock into the dragon nests, leaving the bloody meat near the entrance so that the occupants could feast at their leisure.

"Impressive," Shisui murmured as he took it all in, the sheer scale of the place making him feel uncomfortably small.

"Isn't it?" Visaelya remarked with a proud smile, "The finest feat of Drakken Clan architecture outside our family's homeland… perhaps even in all the Soul Society. That its stood for more than a thousand years, withstanding even the great Quincy assault during that brutal war, is a testament to its durability and the ingenuity of our clan's masons."

"Hard to imagine that anything outside the strongest of Soul Reapers could bring this place down," said Shisui, 'or maybe the strongest of dragons."

"The latter have certainly tried," Visaelya replied, "Dragons are naturally free-roaming creatures; they don't take well to being confined. Considerable effort is required to make them docile here… and even then, it's really just toleration on their part. They suffer the Dragon Lair out of loyalty to their riders, and they must be taken outside regularly to keep them from growing too agitated."

Shisui nodded. "Awfully hard to miss when that happens. Remember that time you and I were on patrol last month and caught your father and uncle taking their steeds out for a stroll? Then again, I guess 'stroll' isn't the right word for it since they were airborne. Leisurely flight, maybe?"

Visaelya smirked. "Well, if you can call wrangling those two titans 'leisurely.' Even experienced riders like Father and Uncle must be cautious when taking dragons as powerful as their own out for exercise. They can only truly relax once they're beyond the bounds of both the Seireitei and the Rukon District. Believe it or not, dragons can be quite playful creatures when they're allowed to cut loose. Of course, that 'play' can be hazardous to the health of anything or anyone that's flammable."

"That's a very broad category," Shisui quipped, "and it includes us."

Visaelya smiled. "Yes, but they're smart enough to know that burning playmates to a crisp will ruin any potential for long-term fun."

Shisui hoped she was right about that. "Which one are we visiting today?"

"Rayala," Visaelya replied.

It took Shisui a moment to place the name. "She's your father's dragon, right?"

"Good memory," Visaelya answered, "She's a bit more familiar with me than Daeloron, which means it'll be easier to get her acclimated to you as my companion."

Shisui recalled seeing her fly in previous Flame of Life festivals, a slender and agile azure creature that soared with fluid grace. "Definitely a bit less intimidating than your uncle's dragon, thought I guess that's not saying much. What's she like? Personality-wise, I mean."

"She's a gentle soul, at least as far as dragons go," said Visaelya, "That's not to say she isn't dangerous; she's seen her share of combat, her claws and teeth are sharp, and her flames are only slightly less hot than Daeloron's. Still, she's definitely much easier for first-timers to get along with than other specimens. You'll find her to be a very inquisitive creature, so don't be afraid when she gets close to take a sniff. Once she's familiar with your scent, she'll be quite relaxed around you."

Shisui smiled in relief. "That's good to hear. Hopefully she's in a good mood."

"Oh, I can promise you that she is," Visaelya reassured him, "The Flame of Life festival is one of her favorite annual events. She's quite a show off when airborne, always excited to strut her stuff and please the crowd. In the leadup to the main event, she can be positively giddy with excitement."

"In other words, this is probably the best night for her to make a new friend," Shisui ventured.

Visaelya leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. "It very much is. Why do you think I wanted to bring you down here tonight? You're going to love her, Shisui."

Passing beneath one of the raised steel gates, the two of them proceeded down into the cavern that Rayala called home. The light of the large central chamber quickly faded as the pair delved into the stone corridor, with Visaelya's torch the sole source of illumination. With his sight thus limited, Shisui instead focused his remaining senses. At first, there wasn't much to pick up on apart from the sounds of the Soul Reapers' footsteps and the heat provided by the torch, along with the smell of decaying scraps of meat. However, the deeper they went, the more Shisui became aware of a new source of spirit energy, thrumming in the background and growing steadily stronger with each passing step.

"That's her, isn't it?" he whispered.

Visaelya nodded but didn't say anything. She kept Shisui's hand in hers and pressed onward, her breathing kept slow and steady. Rounding a corner in the cavern, they came upon a broad and tall archway clearly distinguished from the rough stone around it by its pair of thick round columns and the strange writing carved into the archway above. It wasn't in any language that Shisui recognized, including the odd bits of script from the old kingdom that he'd seen during past expeditions. His best guess was that it came from the Drakken Clan's Principality; perhaps it was the native language of Visaelya's people.

Visaelya came to a halt before the archway, and Shisui turned to her. "Is something wrong?"

Visaelya shook her head, but once again said nothing. She stood still for a few seconds before taking a deep breath. Then…

…she began to sing.

It was so soft at first that Shisui almost didn't pick up on it, nearly mistaking it for air passing through the tunnel. Looking at Visaelya, he saw the light of the torch dancing in her violet eyes as words in a tongue Shisui didn't recognize flowed from her lips. Despite the language escaping him, though, the feeling behind those strange words resonated with him. They spoke of longing, of bonds forged in fire and blood…

…and of freedom to be found in flight.

When Visaelya proceeded forward, singing as she pulled Shisui along, to the former Shinobi it almost seemed as though his companion was in a trance. Her steps were light yet rhythmic, in time with the melody she sang. Keeping the torch held high, she led him up a series of wide stone steps that culminated in a raised stone platform that was larger than the training courtyards of most units in the Thirteen Court Guard Squads. Visaelya came to a stop in the center of the platform, with Shisui dutifully pausing just a step behind her, his hand still in hers. His companion continued to sing…

…and, this time, she was answered.

The hair on the back of Shisui's neck stood on end as a low rumble echoed from the blackness beyond the platform. Silence fell for a moment before it was repeated, a quiet growling that grew gradually louder as the seconds passed. It was soon accompanied by a series of surprisingly soft plodding noises, though those became incrementally heavier. Squinting and resisting the urge to activate his Sharingan, Shisui peered into the inky void beyond, watching and waiting with bated breath.

Turning to his companion, he saw Visaelya drop to one knee and lay the torch down on the platform with extreme care. She continued her song as she rose, heightening her pitch slightly… and the approaching creature responded in kind. The low rumble from before was replaced by a much gentler sound, something halfway between a growl and chirping.

Was it… purring?

Whatever it was, it sounded like it was getting closer with each passing moment. Shisui caught a hint of movement in the darkness beyond the torch's meager light, a ripple in the shadows beyond. The spirit energy Shisui had sensed before began to pulse, and a wave of warm and moist air slowly washed over him and Visaelya.

No, not air.

Breath.

There was another ripple in the dark, this time much closer. Shisui caught a flicker as the torchlight gleamed off something dripping, and then heard a hissing inhalation. The air around him and Visaelya was suddenly sucked forward. Then…

…a colossal jet of fire sprang to life overhead.

Shisui and Visaelya looked up in awe as Rayala reared up before them, bathing the chamber in a river of orange-red flames. Her fearsome breath was thankfully aimed high, and her fire washed over the cavern's high stone ceiling. Shisui belatedly realized just how close she was to them; barely more than a couple of meters away. She had crept up that closely while barely making any noise until she'd been practically right on top of them.

Something this large should not be that damn quiet!

In fact, it was only now that Shisui could appreciate just how large Rayala truly was. When he'd seen her in the past, it had been from the balcony of the Drakken Clan mansion while she had taken to the sky, meaning his perspective had come from a distance. On that occasion, she'd also been flying alongside a considerably larger dragon in the form of Daeloron, which served to make her seem much smaller than she actually was.

Now, though, Shisui could behold her up close and personal…

…in all her fearsome splendor.

Propping herself up on her front claws and forearms which were also part of her wings, the imposing she-dragon towered over Shisui and Visaelya. Her form was much more streamlined and flexible than larger beasts like Daeloron, to the point that she almost seemed as much serpent as dragon. The fading light from her previously released flames glistened along her azure scales with quite a striking effect, causing them to glimmer and ripple in the gloomy cavern. She looked down at Shisui and Visaelya, tilting her gaze left and right as she studied them from on high. Shisui had to wonder just what he and his companion looked like to her from her head's lofty perspective.

Hopefully what we don't look like is appetizing.

A good douse of her flames will at least make you crispy.

You're not helping here.

I know. That's what makes this fun!

Shisui resisted an exasperated groan. Kage no Kodomo was a potent Zanpakutō and normally very good-natured in demeanor, but he could also be a cheeky little bastard when the mood struck him.

He had much more pressing concerns on his plate than a snarky sword spirit, though, as Rayala suddenly lowered her long neck and head so that she could observe Shisui and Visaelya on a much more even and intimate level. Shisui forced himself to take deep and steady breaths as the dragon sniffed first at Visaelya and then him. All the while, Visaelya continued her song, and it seemed to resonate with the powerful creature before them. Rayala's gaze focused mostly on her, and the purring Shisui had heard before went up an octave or two, as if the scaley behemoth was trying to match Visaelya's pitch.

"Beautiful…" Visaelya whispered as she reached out to tenderly lay her palm on dragon's snout.

She wasn't wrong, either. Now that he could really take her in like this, Shisui had a new appreciation for just how incredible a creature she truly was. Sure, she was scary; each tooth in her mouth was longer than his Zanpakutō and doubtlessly as sharp, and Shisui could make out two fleshy tubes near the back of the dragon's throat which could engulf both him and Visaelya in flames at a moment's notice. She was an apex predator the likes of which very few creatures in either the Soul Society or any Realm of the Living could hope to tangle with and walk away from such an encounter.

For all her danger, though, she also possessed beauty. When he had seen her from a distance in the past, he thought that her eyes were yellow, but now that her face was less than a meter from his Shisui could see that they were actually a very light green. The light from the torch danced in those pale green orbs around the black slit of her pupil, and the effect from that was nearly as entrancing as that of the Sharingan itself. Her blue scales were equally captivating, polished as they were to a near mirror-sheen. The caretakers in charge of cleaning her were clearly thorough in their duties. Her very form was sleek and streamlined, as if she'd been bred to race through the air at breakneck speeds. Maybe she wasn't as powerful as some of her brethren, but Shisui had no doubt that she was decisively faster than them. As the Shinobi who'd earned the moniker 'Shisui the Teleporter', he could quite readily appreciate such agility and grace.

"Magnificent," he murmured.

Rayala suddenly swung her head towards Shisui, and it took all his restraint to keep from recoiling reflexively. The dragon's gaze focused squarely on him before she took a deep sniff and then began to make a strange sound, slightly higher pitched than the odd purring from before.

Shisui didn't know what to make of it, but Visaelya clearly did if the grin on her face was anything to go by. "Oh, she liked that. I think you've won her over, Shisui!"

Shisui blinked in surprise. "She understood me just now? Really?"

"I told you dragons are smart," Visaelya replied with more than a hint of satisfaction, "and that goes double for those that are bonded to my family. They're more than capable of picking up on our words and the feelings behind them, and my father's called her 'magnificent' more than enough for Rayala to understand what it means."

"Oh… that's good," Shisui remarked as he cautiously held the dragon's gaze, "So, uhm… what now?"

"Simple," Visaelya answered as she raised the hand that held his so that both approached Rayala, "Let her get to know you more."

Shisui took a deep breath as Visaelya guided his hand towards the dragon. He was quite wary of what Visaelya wanted him to do here, but he also trusted his companion with his life. It clearly meant a lot to Visaelya for him to be down here with her, and Shisui didn't want his apprehension to ruin that.

Moment of truth…

Visaelya briefly paused, with both of their hands hovering mere centimeters over the dragon's scales. Even indirectly, Shisui could feel the heat radiating from the incredible creature. It was strange; reptiles as he understood them were supposed to be cold-blooded. Perhaps whatever fueled a dragon's flames suffused their entire body with warmth, or maybe they were warm blooded. He'd have to see if Visaelya's family would lend him a book on dragon biology; Shisui was genuinely curious to learn more about the Drakken Clan's prized steeds, but he knew how fiercely Great Noble Houses guarded their private repositories of knowledge and wasn't sure if such a request would trigger alarms with Visaelya's parents.

"Ready?" she asked, perhaps to Shisui as well as Rayala.

Shisui was surprised to see the dragon incline her head ever so slightly in response, and if Rayala would accept this, then who was he to say no? "Yeah, I am."

He let Visaelya push his hand down upon Rayala's scales on the left side of her face, just below the dragon's eye. Shisui felt a very slight pushback from the creature, and he momentarily feared that a mistake had been made, only to belatedly realize that Rayala was simply leaning into the gesture like a cat might with a friendly human.

Shisui found himself smiling as he looked the dragon in the eye. "You really are a friendly girl, aren't you?"

Rayala inclined her head ever so slightly while a cooing noise came from her throat, causing Visaelya to grin in satisfaction. "Told you."

"You did," Shisui conceded while rubbing his hand back and forth along the dragon's cheek.

Visaelya took her hand off Shisui's, but only so she could then put her arm around him. She leaned into him, pressing her cheek into Shisui's as he continued to pet the dragon.

"Father and mother used to bring me down here all the time," she said with more than a hint of wistful nostalgia, "When I first joined Squad Two… I was afraid that I'd never get to do this again. That my family would bar me from here forever. Being back here now, with you… I've wanted this for so long, Shisui."

"Is it everything you hoped for?" he asked.

Her gaze met his, and the torchlight dancing in her violet eyes was one of the most beautiful things that Shisui had ever seen. "It is."

She leaned forward to kiss him, her lips lingering on his for several precious long seconds while her tongue briefly darted out in a teasing manner. Shisui thought he caught a hint of scarlet in Visaelya's face, though it could have just been from the torch.

"Shisui," she said softly, "thank you. For staying by my side all this time, for coming down here with me… for everything."

Shisui smiled before reaching over to place his hand at the back of her head and pull her in for another kiss, taking no small measure of delight in the surprised squeak that came from his dear companion. "Anytime, Visaelya."

A strange noise came from their fire-breathing friend; a series of chirps followed by a snort. Looking back at the dragon, Shisui could've sword he saw Rayala roll her eyes at them.

I hear you, girl. Get a room, you two!

Shisui had to chuckle at that, which in turn caused Visaelya to give him an odd look. "What is it?"

Shisui shook his head before taking her hand and guiding it towards the dragon so that both were touching the splendid creature. "Never mind. Let's just savor this, shall we?"

Visaelya stared intently at him for a moment before smiling and resting her head against his. "Yes… let's."

And so they did, staying together in the dark with their fire-breathing companion, the rest of the world completely forgotten.

And they wouldn't have had it any other way.

….

While fireworks and jets of dragon flame lit up the night sky, one member of the Drakken Clan had declined to partake in the festivities. Well, that was not completely true; Saenenya had put in a courtesy appearance, spending enough time in the party to greet the important guests alongside her parents along with enjoying the company of her cousins for a bit, but that was about all the social interaction she really had the stomach for tonight. While the sight of her family's dragons wheeling about in the sky was always a beautiful one, it was also one that had lost its novelty quite some time ago, and her distaste for crowds meant she could only stay long enough to watch the takeoff and first round of acrobatics before quietly excusing herself.

Fortunately, no one had noticed the daughter of Squad 10's Captain slipping away. It helped that Saenenya had chosen robes that were much less ostentatious than those worn by the rest of her family, with her ensemble being simple blue and black with a purple flower pattern while her Zanpakutō was tied to a black sash, quite dull compared to the absolute riot of colors that her kin always put on. Saenenya had never felt the need to show off her family's wealth or any sort of fashion taste; she preferred whatever was simplest yet still met the expectations of her father and mother. Anything beyond that was just too gaudy for her tastes. Let the others enjoy fancy clothes, jewelry, and glad-handing with the rest of the Seireitei's elite; her interests, as always, lay in the family archives…

…and, increasingly, in the cloaked man that she quite regularly conversed with down there.

Sure, her previous studies and now her active duties as Squad Ten's Nineteenth Seat meant that she did not have as much time to visit the family library as she had in the past, but that hadn't stopped Saenenya from making the most of any opportunity to return home and delve into the vast stores of knowledge guarded so fiercely by her clan. Whenever she did so, she almost always found the cloaked man down there, poring over tomes, scrolls, charts, and maps from bygone eras. As ever, he remained quite welcoming of her company, and now that she was a full-fledged Soul Reaper Saenenya found him more than willing to offer advice regarding her new responsibilities. It was a bit surprising when she considered that the strange man had never been a Soul Reaper himself, but she could not deny that his counsel had served her well. He surely must have occupied a similar role before, perhaps in his past life; how else could he be so knowledgeable when it came to subjects like field missions, patrols, tracking targets and other such necessities?

For all that his insights had helped her as she'd settled into being a Soul Reaper, though, Saenenya remained ill at ease in her new role. It wasn't that she couldn't handle the duties that came with such a position; she already had several Hollow kills under her belt, for starters. Granted, most of those kills had been with spells rather than her Zanpakutō… and that was part of the problem. For all that her family had wanted her to join Squad Ten and how proud they had been upon her graduation and acceptance into the unit as a junior officer, Saenenya's real passion lay outside being a Soul Reaper. Her fascination remained first and foremost with spells, which meant that Saenenya's gaze always turned longingly towards the Kidō Corps. Soul Reapers could transfer over to the corps, just as the reverse could happen under the right circumstances, but Saenenya's circumstances were not exactly ideal. She had the aptitude and knowledge to be sure; the problem was her father.

Oh, how she envied Visaelya's determined stand against the Drakken Clan when she had joined Squad Two instead of the family unit. More than anything else, Saenenya dreamed of possessing the courage to make a similarly bold decision and chart her own path, but her social anxiety had remained incredibly potent even after graduating from the Academy. She found taking on Hollows to be much less frightening than the prospect of challenging her father; Hollows, at least, she could neutralize with spells or the blade. Family was a much thornier issue.

It wouldn't be crippling introversion if I had the nerve to argue with my own father, she thought bitterly, I'm too much of a coward for that. Keeping my head down, not rocking the boat… that's all I'm good for.

Maybe that could change, though. Whenever she spoke to the cloaked man, Saenenya almost always came away from those conversations with newfound resolve, with greater confidence that the path she wanted to take was the right one. The cloaked man had repeatedly and sincerely praised her talents in the art of spell casting, and he'd encouraged her to follow that passion. It had served Saenenya well during both her Academy days and now her field missions as a Soul Reaper, more than making up for her merely passable aptitude for Hohō, Hakuda and Zanjutsu. Maybe, just maybe, talking with the cloaked man tonight could give her the courage needed to stand up to her father and request a transfer to the Kidō Corps.

Saenenya was already imagining how such a conversation might play out as she entered the library when a familiar male voice tore her from her thoughts. "What brings you down here? Don't you have a patron to entertain with honeyed words tonight?"

Saenenya blinked in confusion. The cloaked man knew her well by now; he understood why she came down here during the Flame of Life Festival. Why would he question her presence tonight?

That was when another male voice spoke, one that sounded vaguely familiar, yet not one that Saenenya could readily put a name and face to. "You're not the only guest that Captain Drakken has granted access to these wonderful archives. What's the matter; not willing to share? There's more than enough room for the two of us."

Sidling up against one of the bookshelves, Saenenya slowly and cautiously worked her way towards where the voices were coming from. It didn't sound like either the cloaked man or this stranger had sensed her presence yet, though that was unsurprising; Saenenya had a natural gift for suppressing her spiritual pressure. She could do it purely by reflex, and it came even easier to her than breathing. Even her father had occasionally been surprised to find her suddenly behind him, although those events had been unintentional on Saenenya's part. When she really focused on it, no one she knew of could pick up on her presence.

As Saenenya drew closer, she heard the cloaked man's voice again. "It is not my place to dictate who our mutual patron deigns worthy of access to this library. It is my place to be wary when one of those who is granted such access is using it to carry out his own agenda, though."

"You're one to talk," the stranger replied, sounding more amused than anything else, "Seeing as you've been trying to pull our mutual patron towards your agenda."

"Mine is in keeping with the family's long-term goals and prosperity," the cloaked man proclaimed.

"And you think mine is not?" the stranger asked rhetorically.

"It most certainly is not," the cloaked man answered with a low growl, "Your whispers embolden the clan's leaders and nudge them along towards premature action. You tell them what they want to hear rather than what they need to hear. If they continue to follow your counsel, their reach will exceed their grasp."

Working her way carefully through the maze of shelves, Saenenya peeked around a corner. There was the cloaked man, sitting at the table that he and her had occupied and conversed over so many times before. His rippling violet eyes seemed brighter than usual, though at present they were narrowed and focused in a fierce glare. Following that glare, Saenenya saw that the cloaked man's gaze was concentrated on a figure lurking in the shadow of one of the bookshelves on the other side of the library. Saenenya could make out scant few details regarding the mysterious man, as he concealed himself with a cloak as well…

…save for the dim light of the candles reflected in what looked like glasses.

"I would beg to differ," the mystery man said, "although I suppose it's a matter of perspective. Your approach is cautious, which can be an admirable trait, but our mutual patron appears to believe that your plan calls for an overabundance of caution. From what he's revealed to me regarding your timetable, I can certainly understand his frustrations. Our patron is intelligent, but his patience has limits. What I offer him is a much more dynamic and proactive plan, one that will bring him and his allies forward to enacting the great transformation of the Soul Society at a much faster pace."

"At much greater risk," the cloaked man countered, "Already, he faces scrutiny that he should not, as does the broader family and its closest allies. Captain Drakken has become impatient, and that impatience is infecting those that should know better. You lead them on with promises of the tomorrow they seek coming sooner than they'd previously dared to imagine. It's a heady cocktail… one that may prove fatally intoxicating."

"Fortune favors the bold," the mystery man quipped.

"The bold are also more likely to attract the opposite," the cloaked man shot back, "All the more so when their adversaries sit on a throne that they guard fiercely."

"That much is true," the mystery man conceded, "I would fully expect the old fools who deem themselves our betters to crack down harshly the moment they realize what's amiss. However, they've become complacent. A true threat has not shown itself in centuries. Even the latest Quincy conflict was barely more than pest control compared to the war of nearly nine-hundred years ago. Mopping up, nothing more. The emergence of the wraiths might have briefly rattled them, but since none of those creatures ever came anywhere near the Seireitei, they were never considered an existential threat. They've all been dealt with now in any case, so the fossils who rule us are now even more comfortable sitting upon their lofty perches. In that comfort, though, they are vulnerable."

"That's hardly my assessment," the cloaked man argued, "They're fat and slow, yes, but they're also paranoid. The last Quincy conflict is still relatively fresh in their eyes, given the timespans in which they're used to operating. Even without that extermination campaign, though, they are wary. The recent disputes with our patron's family and their allies have the council divided and distrustful. They're arrogant in their power, but they're also fearful. They may be ossified and stagnant, yet I am not prepared to wholly discount them. More time is required for their corruption and complacency to become fatal for them."

"It seems you give them much more credit than I do," said the mystery man, "I wonder which of us will be proven right in the end. Well, I suppose time will tell. In any case, going by your choice of reading material, you don't seem to be particularly concerned with the powers that rule the Seireitei at the moment. As ever, the Quincies are a fascinating subject, but you seem particularly obsessed with them."

"Anyone concerned with the survival of the Web of Worlds should be obsessed with them," the cloaked man replied, "You know just as well as I do what their power can culminate in if left unchecked."

"Oh, without a doubt, yes," the mystery man concurred, "However, events of the not-so-distant-past would indicate that said threat has been checked. That's the conventional wisdom, at any rate."

The cloaked man chuckled. "Spare me the innocent act; neither of us are the type to abide by 'conventional' wisdom, and pretending otherwise is an insult to us both. You and I might be in competition for our patron's favor, and I still don't know entirely what you're after, but I've never once underestimated your intelligence. You understand just as well as I do why the Quincies bear studying even in defeat. Especially as their defeat may not be permanent."

"Is that why you display those stanzas so prominently in your notes?" the mystery man asked, "I have the verses memorized, you know. It's an intriguing bit of prose, to be sure. Yet what evidence has ever been presented that the song is anything more than the wishful thinking of a pitiful remnant? The harsher the defeat, the more fiercely one may cling to the promise of an eventual avenger and a divine restoration. Can the song be proven as actual prophecy, or is it merely a delusion of grandeur by those who time has cast aside?"

The cloaked man clasped his hands before him. "No final proof of his demise was ever presented."

"His final foe was none other than the Head Captain himself," the mystery man remarked, "Hard to imagine that anything would be left of him given how fierce their ultimate confrontation supposedly was."

"Regarding just about any other of the Head Captain's numerous enemies, I'd be inclined to agree," the cloaked man pushed back, "but not this one. I think you know that just as well as I do."

"Perhaps," the mystery man conceded, "Wouldn't it be interesting if he was found to have survived? From what I've read, the Head Captain was adamant in his testimony that the king had perished at his hand, and that has been accepted as historical fact. If proof to the contrary were to be discovered… well, that'd be quite the scandal for the old man and the doddering fools he answers to. Rather amusing to imagine the recriminations, is it not? As for the political consequences… those are downright fascinating to consider."

Saenenya saw a ripple in the cloaked man's hood, as if he were inclining his head. "They are, indeed."

There was a tense silence for a few seconds before the mystery man spoke again. "Well, for the time being, it's all nothing more than intriguing speculation. I only came down here for a single tome, which I have already found. Seeing as you're not in the mood for my company, I'll take my leave. Perhaps we can engage in a more fruitful conversation next time. We need not be adversaries, after all."

The cloaked man said nothing, but the way his rippled violet eyes narrowed in the shadow of his cowl spoke volumes. Perhaps taking the hint, the mystery man quickly left the library, unfortunately sticking to the shadows of the bookshelves and denying Saenenya a chance to positively identify him. The cloaked man watched the exit warily for sever seconds after the other individual had left before eventually turning back to the books, maps and notes sprawled out on the table in front of him.

"Arrogant upstart," Saenenya heard the cloaked man grumble, "but dangerously sharp… he'll bear further watching."

Saenenya took a deep breath before stepping into open view. "It sounds like you two don't like each other very much. Do you have a history with him?"

The cloaked man suddenly looked up from his reading materials, his strange eyes widening slightly beneath the cowl. "Saenenya… how long were you there?"

"Uhm… the whole time," she nervously confessed before frantically bowing her head, "I'm sorry! It was wrong to eavesdrop on you, I know, but… I should've left, but I froze… I…"

The cloaked man raised a hand in a gesture for calm. "Saenenya, it's alright. Truly. I promise you that I'm not mad. Not at you, anyway. You merely took me by surprise. If you were really in here for that whole conversation, neither myself nor my… competitor could sense you, otherwise we would've cut our little chat short."

Saenenya fidgeted, tapping her fingers together. "So… I don't need to leave, then? You're okay with me sharing the table with you again?"

"Of course," the cloaked man replied as he spread his arms wide in magnanimity, "I was hoping that you'd find your way down here tonight. It has been some time since we last had a chance to converse and read together. Your timing may not have been ideal, but I can hardly fault you for that."

Saenenya let out a deep sigh as a veritable mountain was removed from her shoulders. "Oh… thank you. I, uhm… I promise it won't happen again. The eavesdropping, I mean!"

The cloaked man looked at her for a long and thoughtful moment. "If I'm unable to detect you in future circumstances, then one might argue that I deserve to have you eavesdrop on me. Your ability to suppress your spiritual pressure to such an extent is quite the gift, Saenenya. Alongside your aptitude for spells, it is an ability that you should hone to the fullest possible extent."

Saenenya blinked in confusion. "Wait… are you saying that you want me to eavesdrop on you?"

"I'm saying that, if I can't pick up on you doing so in the first place, then that is my failing," the cloaked man answered, "A failing that you would have every right to take advantage of."

Saenenya shook her head. "Sorry, but I'm still a little lost… and I really do feel bad about eavesdropping on you. Peoples' privacy really should be respected. I know that I'd want mine to be."

"Yet what greater power in this world is there than knowledge?" the cloaked man pushed back, "And what greater way to acquire it than to be able to mask your presence so utterly in the face of those who would reveal such precious knowledge? Do with this gift what you will, Saenenya. If you find employing it against others to run counter to your beliefs, then feel free to refrain from using it. Just know that I admire your affinity for it, and I believe that it is far too useful a gift to deprive yourself of."

Saenenya smiled. "Thanks. Still… I'll try to keep from using it against you. Friends shouldn't spy on friends, after all."

The cloaked man inclined his head, and Saenenya thought she detected the hint of a smile in the shadow of his cowl. "I can appreciate that sentiment… my friend."

The cloaked man then turned his attention back to his research materials, leaving Saenenya free to browse the library. She spent several minutes wandering amongst the various shelves before finding what she'd come her for; a volume written by one of the rare Drakken Clan members to have pursued a career in healing rather than being a Soul Reaper, a politically active noble, or dragon rider out in the Principality. When she returned to the table with the cloaked man and sat down opposite of him, she saw his lovely and mysterious eyes flicker in the direction of the book.

"An interesting choice," he remarked as Saenenya opened the book and started the first chapter, "If I recall correctly, the last time you and I were down here together, you had picked another tome focused on the healing arts. Your past interests have been on barriers, seals, and offensive spells. Mind if I ask what has prompted this new attention to medical spells?"

"Our field work in Squad Ten," Saenenya replied as she turned the page, "Whenever there are injuries, we always rely on one of Squad Four's emergency field response teams or on getting the wounded back to that unit's barracks before it's too late. Nothing against Captain Unohana or her subordinates, but I think it's wrong to rely on just them for our medical needs. If my talents for Kidō can be adapted for Kaidō as well, then I think it's important for me to explore that area so I can help my comrades."

"That's a very noble goal," the cloaked man noted, and Saenenya thought she detected a hint of wistfulness in his voice, "It is so easy to discount the value of the healing arts until we're faced with the brutal reality of combat. Believe me, I would know. Had I perhaps given them greater consideration in my youth, learned them alongside all those other techniques I drove myself to master… perhaps he might've lived."

Saenenya arched an eyebrow. "He? Who's that?"

The cloaked man seemed lost in nostalgia for a moment before he shook his head. "Never mind. No sense in dwelling too long over what might have been. One cannot alter the past. Only the present... and with it, the future."

"I guess that's true," Saenenya concurred before taking a deep breath to gather her nerve, "Speaking of altering the present and future… I want to alter mine."

The cloaked man eyed her in curiosity. "How so?"

Saenenya exhaled heavily. "I… I don't think being a Soul Reaper's the right thing for me."

"Your Academy scores and acceptance into Squad Ten as a junior officer would beg to differ," the cloaked man countered, "You fully earned you spot in the family's division. Perhaps you weren't at the top of your class in all subjects, but you passed your courses with flying colors. Your father and mother both boasted of your grades for quite some time following graduation."

Saenenya flushed with equal parts pride and guilt. "I know they did, but still… look, you know me. You know what I'm really good at; spells. The Soul Society has an organization that's dedicated to them; the Kidō Corps. That's where I really belong."

The cloaked man scratched his chin in thought. "Well, I cannot deny that your aptitude for Kidō certainly points in that direction. Still, I think your desire for transfer might be premature."

"But I've known this in my heart for years!" Saenenya protested, "You've always encouraged me to follow my interests, and I know my interest lies in the Kidō Corps. I'm not a good fit as a Soul Reaper, no matter how well I did in the Academy. I never will be, no matter how much father or the rest of the clan want it to be otherwise!"

The cloaked man was quiet for several seconds. "I can understand why you might think that. Even so, please, allow me to make my case. The choice is ultimately yours, but I think it would do you well to give this calm and deliberate consideration before making a final decision, especially one that carries such heavy consequences for your future. I will respect and fully support whatever course of action you end up pursuing. All I ask is that you let me offer counsel first, and that you give said counsel serious thought before committing to a path. Can you do that for me?"

Saenenya took a calming breath before smiling. "Sure. After all the times you've listened to me, I think the least I can do is return the favor."

"Much appreciated," said the cloaked man, "Now, far be it from me to criticize your desire to transfer from Squad Ten to the Kidō Corps; as you said before, I have indeed encouraged you to follow your interests, and it's abundantly clear where those lie. Nevertheless, I believe that it's too soon for you to transfer just yet. Your time in Squad Ten as of right now… it's hardly even been a year, right?"

"Pretty much," Saenenya confirmed.

"As a soul descending from a noble line, you have the luxury of time, Saenenya, and in a way that few others truly do," the cloaked man continued, "Even if a particular unit or organization is not one that you necessarily wanted to join, there is still value in staying within it for a time so that you may learn from it. I know that you're proud of your Academy grades, and rightly so, but there is a very real difference between an academic education and a practical one. You have the former under your belt, and you are now through the first year of the latter. How many years did you spend with the former?"

"Six," Saenenya answered, "but you already know that."

"I do," said the cloaked man, "So, look at it this way; you committed to the full six years of your academic education, yet now that you're in the midst of a practical one, you're only willing to give it one. You do see the imbalance here, yes?"

Saenenya folded his arms. "Are you saying that I should commit equal time to Squad Ten as my Academy years before considering a transfer?"

"Not strictly," the cloaked man replied, "What I am saying is that you should give it more time than you currently have. You have only just begun scratching the surface of being a Soul Reaper, and learning on the job can accelerate your growth in a way that a purely academic education cannot. Your time at the Academy helped you lay a foundation, but that foundation is incomplete. Through practical experience as a Soul Reaper, you can assemble the rest of that foundation before moving on to the columns, walls, roof and all the rest."

Saenenya slowly nodded. "I think I get your point. I should build myself up more before radically changing course, right?"

"Precisely," the cloaked man confirmed, "Am I saying that you should commit a full six years to Squad Ten before transferring out? No. With how bright you've proven yourself to be, I honestly don't think you'll need quite that long to finish your foundation. However, you should give yourself time to learn all that you can from your current role before taking on a new one. Getting more practical experience under your belt makes you a much more attractive recruitment candidate for whatever unit you may wish to transfer to. The skills that you pick up as a Soul Reaper are not solely applicable in that role; I imagine many of them would prove to be quite adaptable to a position within the Kidō Corps. Besides, a transfer so soon would undoubtedly set off your father. It would be better to establish yourself firmly and grow in both ability and confidence before ruffling his feathers."

Saenenya sighed. "I think his feathers will be more than just 'ruffled' when I tell him about this, no matter how many years I spend in Squad Ten before the transfer. You saw how he reacted when Visaelya picked Squad Two after graduation, and she was just a niece. He'll completely flip out when his own daughter says that she wants to leave Squad Ten for the Kidō Corps."

"What about your mother?" asked the cloaked man, "She's a far gentler soul than your father, at least from what I've seen. Have you spoken to her about this yet?"

"Not yet," Saenenya confessed, "I know she'd hear me out; she's always been good at that. She knows me better than Father does. I think she'd even stand by me and support me if I confronted Father about this. Still… I don't want them to fight because of me. Mother… I don't want to drag her into this. She worries enough about me and Uncle Obran as it is."

Beneath the shadowy cowl of his cloak, Saenenya thought she saw just the faintest hint of a smile. "Her compassionate nature was clearly passed on to you. It's kind of you to worry about her and want to avoid pulling her into a confrontation with your father, but do not discount her determination and will so easily. She may be physically frail compared to you or your father, but I have seen her stand up to him when she feels strongly enough about an issue. I imagine that she'd consider your future to be one such issue worth standing up to him over."

Saenenya smiled. "Yeah… she would. Even so, I don't want to stir anything up between her and him unless there's no other choice."

The cloaked man inclined his head. "If you think that's for the best, then I'll say no more on it."

Saenenya then looked at her companion hopefully. "Uhm… could you maybe… help me out with him? He still listens to you sometimes, right? If you were with me when I talked to him… it might make things easier."

"If you want me on hand for support when the time comes, I would be open to that," the cloaked man answered, "However, I fear that my counsel means less and less to your father with each passing year. I may have more pull with your family's patriarch than him at this point, and even that is suspect. As a Captain in the Thirteen Court Guard Squads, your father's power within the family is enhanced even though he is not actually the primary heir to your grandfather; that position, as you well know, falls to his older brother."

Saenenya thought back to the conversation she had witnessed earlier. "That other cloaked guy… why does my family find him more persuasive than you? Every time I've come to you for advice, you've always given very wise counsel. I think they should be listening to you, not whoever this other guy is. Why don't they see things the same way?"

"There was a time when they did," said the cloaked man, "but I fear that impatience is getting the better of them. My counsel comes from bitter experience, and that experience has taught me, above all else, the value of patient long-term planning. Your grandfather, uncle, and even your father once saw things my way. They could appreciate the long work required for the glorious payoff, especially since they, as descendants of a noble bloodline, have the extended lifespan that would allow them to see long-term schemes to fruition. Unfortunately, the end goals of such a plan are far easier to envision than the work required to make such goals a reality."

"And this other guy… he's convinced them that by following his advice, those goals can be reached sooner?" Saenenya ventured.

"He has," the cloaked man confirmed, "At the very least, he has them leaning in that direction. I'm afraid that he has a very strong advantage over me in one key area; charisma. His silver tongue is not to be underestimated. I can make my case, but he's proven himself to be much more persuasive in making his. Alas, I fear my own history may be repeating itself. In life, I was never able to attract a majority to my side in the long-term. It's easy to recognize that in hindsight; my pride was always an alienating factor for others. Those who might've supported me instead gravitated towards those who could make themselves feel much more approachable. I have tried to rectify that in my afterlife, though it seems I still have quite a long way to go. Unfortunately, my deficiency is your clan's loss, for my competitor is winning their ears. I fear he prompts them to reach out too soon… and that it will end in calamity."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" asked Saenenya, "If I understood what it is you really want, I could try to convince my father and the rest of the clan to back you."

She thought she caught a hint of a smile in the shadow of the cloaked man's cowl before he shook his head. "I appreciate the thought, but it's best if you stay out of this affair. You have more than enough on your plate without adding aristocratic family politics to the mix, and I would hate to become a wedge that alienates you from your clan."

"Even so, after all the help you've given me over the years…" Saenenya began.

The cloaked man raised a hand to politely cut her off. "The help I give you is not the sort that requires anything in return. As I said before, I really do appreciate the consideration, but this is not the sort of business that you should be involving yourself in. You're still young, and you're not expected to be taking part in family politics. You should savor that, Saenenya, for there will come a time when that burden falls on your shoulders, and you'll find it to be quite heavy."

"But… you're involving yourself in those politics now," Saenenya countered, "and you're not even part of my family. I don't mean that in a bad way. I just… if it's so heavy a burden, then why are you taking it on?"

The cloaked man was silent for several seconds. "Well… I suppose a good part of it would be my desire to pay off a debt. A mutual one. When I first came to the Soul Society, your father saved my life, and I his."

Saenenya's eyes widened. "Really? How?"

The cloaked man shook his head. "The details are a story for another time. For now, suffice to say that your father and I hit it off after that initial encounter, and he invited me to come to the Seireitei with him. I took up residence here and delved into your family's library, eager to learn all I could about where I now found myself, what it all meant, and where my path should take me from there. Since I had no desire to freeload, I tried to return the favor by offering your family advice to help them through the various challenges they faced. I was no stranger to cutthroat politics and harsh combat in my old life, and my counsel did prove fruitful. The more I talked with your father and other members of the Drakken Clan, the more I became convinced that your family could prove to be a force for change in the Soul Society. I still believe that now, though I fear that dream may be undermined."

"By the other guy that was here earlier," Saenenya ventured.

The cloaked man nodded, and his voice became very quiet. "Yes…"

A few seconds went by before the cloaked man spoke again. "I fear that other man made his move at the perfect time. Several years ago, well into my stay with your family… I was afflicted by a grave malady. It's left me severely weakened even to this day, and that provided the opening which my competitor so skillfully exploited. My fortunes have been waning ever since."

Saenenya reflexively recoiled. "Wait, you're sick? What do you have? Is it contagious?"

The cloaked man chuckled ruefully. "You need not worry, my friend. What I have is not an 'illness' in the traditional sense. It cannot be transmitted. I promise you that you're safe in my company. I have been able to keep the symptoms at bay, thanks in no small part to some of the knowledge I've come across in your family's archives."

Saenenya looked upon her companion with concern. "So, what you have… can it not be cured?"

"In my current condition, it can," the cloaked man answered, "However, there is only one individual in all the Soul Society that, to my knowledge, can perform the necessary steps. I dare not approach her."

"Why not?" Saenenya pressed, "Does she charge too much? If it's a matter of money, you know my family can cover the expenses."

The cloaked man shook his head. "Money is not the issue. Knowing her, I think she would treat me without asking for compensation… well, without financial compensation, at least. Rather, the issue is my eyes. You have long been curious about them, yes?"

Saenenya smiled sheepishly. "I mean, with all the times you've caught me staring at them, isn't that obvious?"

"Thanks for making my point," the cloaked man quipped, "Someone as knowledgeable in the medical field as her would almost certainly try to find out about my eyes and the power that they hold. That is knowledge I guard quite jealously, and for good reason. If knowledge of what they really are were to spread, it would make my life here rather uncomfortable… and possibly a good deal shorter."

"If that's the case, then why are you telling me all of this?" Saenenya pointedly asked.

"I haven't given you any solid details, only generalities," the cloaked man argued, "There is always the chance that you sell me out, I suppose… but I daresay that I know you well enough to be confident that you'll do no such thing."

"Of course, I wouldn't!" Saenenya vehemently declared, "You're one of the few friends I have!"

"Hence why I'm comfortable in saying what I have to you," the cloaked man remarked, "That is very much to your credit. I very much do trust you, Saenenya, but the circle of people that I trust is very small. A consequence of a life marked by betrayal and conflict, I'm afraid. An unfortunate result of that, though, is that I cannot bring myself to trust the one person who is beyond a doubt qualified to fully treat my condition. Oh, believe me, how I wish it were otherwise. To have it resolved, to be able to fully trust my own body and wield the maximum extent of my power… you have no idea how I long for that. Were it to become a reality, I could do so much more. For both your family, and myself. How unfortunate that this is the current state of affairs, and that it will likely be indefinite."

"Maybe I could help," Saenenya offered, "I'm trying to study Kaidō to augment my spell skills, remember? If I know what's wrong, I could look for sources in the library and train to cure it."

The cloaked man looked at her for a long moment. "That is very kind of you, but I would hate for your studies to go astray just because you're focused on me."

"But I want to help!" Saenenya insisted, "You're the only one in all the Soul Society who really understands me! I don't want you to suffer from something that can be healed! If you don't trust the person who can heal it, then let me become the person who can heal it!"

She was surprised to hear the cloaked man laugh. "Ah, even the shyest member of the Drakken Clan still has the dragon's blood! Your passion for your friends will serve you well, my dear. Still, I would insist that you not worry about me. Like I said, I have this under control. I…"

As if fate had decided to play a cruel joke, Saenenya saw the cloaked man's left arm suddenly seize up. At the same time, she felt his spiritual pressure, which had previously been suppressed, start to fluctuate wildly. Waves of wild spirit energy began pulsating from him with enough force to send his scattered notes flying in all directions and fling the books from the table. Saenenya's eyes widened in alarm while the man reached into his cloak with his right arm and pulled out what looked like an elaborate steel syringe with a strange clear and glowing blue liquid within it, yet his right arm was almost immediately overtaken by tremors which caused him to drop the syringe on the table.

"Damn it!" the cloaked man hissed as he doubled over, "Saenenya…"

Despite her fear, the young woman found herself moving by pure reflex. She immediately grabbed the syringe and moved around the table so she was next to the cloaked man.

"Where do I inject?" she asked.

"Left arm…" the cloaked man gasped, "Anywhere on it, quickly!"

Saenenya seized the limb in question and rolled back the black sleeve on it. The limb shook violently, and it took all of Saenenya's strength just to hold it steady before jamming the syringe into it. The clear blue liquid surged down the needle, and she saw the man's veins briefly glow. There was a momentary spike in the man's spiritual pressure, and Saenenya briefly feared that she'd made some sort of mistake, but then the tremors began to subside and her friend's energy stabilized.

"That… was close," the cloaked man panted, "It went… to both arms… much faster than last time. If you hadn't… been here, Saenenya… that could've been… very bad. Thank you. It seems… saving my life runs in your family's blood."

"What was that?" Saenenya asked as the man began gathering up his notes and books, "What are you suffering from? Don't try to change the subject; I'm not leaving until I get an answer."

The cloaked man chuckled as he continued to clean up the mess of his reading and study materials. "Where did that meek and timid girl go? I'm not sure what to think of this firmer you, Saenenya."

"Answer the question," Saenenya snapped, surprising both her companion and herself with how forcefully she was putting her foot down, "If this happens again, I need to know how to help you."

"You already do," the cloaked man replied as he nodded at the syringe in her hand, "Should this happen again, take that syringe and do what you just did."

"And what if it's worse next time?" Saenenya pressed, "What if… whatever's in that syringe isn't enough when this happens again?"

"I keep multiple doses handy as a precaution," the cloaked man answered as he finished reassembling his books and notes before sitting down at the table again, "If the first jab doesn't work, the second will."

"For how long?" Saenenya asked in growing frustration as she held up the empty syringe, "What happens when your tolerance becomes so high that this… whatever this is… no longer works? What if you run out of it? If this isn't handy when you need it most, then I'll have to try something else, and I won't know what to try if I don't know what's wrong with you in the first place! I don't want to see my friend die in front of me if I can do something to save him!"

The cloaked man looked at her for a few seconds. "You really are serious about this, aren't you?"

Saenenya nodded as she set the syringe on the table, keeping her gaze firmly locked with her companion's. "I am. Now, what's your condition called? I can't start my research if I don't know what I'm looking for."

The cloaked man leaned back in his chair for a moment, his demeanor striking Saenenya as one of weary resignation. "It's a soul fracture."

Saenenya gasped; she'd come across that term before in her studies. "A soul fracture? You mean… you were resurrected?"

"I was," the cloaked man confirmed, "Back then, it was all part of a larger plan. Now, though, with what I've learned since settling into the afterlife, I can safely say that it was a mistake. One that I'm paying the price for to this day. Death really does have a way of changing one's perspective on things."

"I'll take your word on that," Saenenya said before setting off for the shelves, "Soul fractures… there's not a whole lot of written material on them. This is going to be tricky."

"Without a doubt," said the cloaked man, "I will not hold you to this. If you reach a dead end, there is no shame in admitting as much. You are not bound to…"

"Not another word on that," Saenenya interrupted, "I'm going to figure this out, and I'm going to save you. That is not up for debate."

As she started digging into the archives' section on medical literature, Saenenya heard the cloaked man chuckle. "Such sudden assertiveness… when roused to action, you truly are a dragon's daughter. Your father would be proud."

Saenenya felt a flush of heat come to her face, and she pointedly kept her focus on the shelves so that her friend would not see her blush or smile. "Thanks."

When she had gathered enough books to start her research and had sufficiently reasserted her composure, Saenenya made her way back over to the table. The cloaked man was once again focused on his own studies, and Saenenya had every intention of diving straight into hers. Before she did so, however, her gaze inadvertently swept over the cloaked man's notes, and one of them stood out to her. In fact, it was one she'd seen before, with a series of brief text lines on it.

'900 years for pulse'

'90 years for intellect'

'9 years for power'

Saenenya would not normally have given it too much thought, but the words from the cloaked man's competitor then echoed in her mind.

"Is that why you display those stanzas so prominently in your notes? I have the verses memorized, you know. It's an intriguing bit of prose, to be sure."

Both men clearly had an interest in those lines, but why was the cloaked man so much more focused on them? What being or event were they referring to? What greater meaning did it have for the Soul Society? In her musings, Saenenya almost failed to notice that two additional brief blurbs of text had been added beneath the original verses.

'The path lies in shadow'

'Silver in the heart'

Saenenya pondered what they were referring to for a few seconds before brushing them aside. She had her own studies to focus on, and they were now more important than ever. Her friends' very soul depended on it, and she was not about to let him down.

Author's Notes: As I explained in the previous chapter's end Author's Notes, this one was intended to be a bit of a breather before the fic's first war arc gets going. The next couple of chapters are going to be focused on prepping the stage for that war, which means the combat's mostly going to take a backseat and Seireitei politics are going to move front and center. For those of you that I can already hear bitching and moaning, I'll say this; wars don't just 'happen' spontaneously. War and politics are two sides of the same coin. When you get right down to it, the two are simply continuations of each other in different manners, no more and no less. If a story has a war without some form of political tension preceding it, even if only in the backstory, then that story did a very bad job in setting up its war. Even in particularly extreme scenarios such as invasions by genocidal aliens (see the Halo franchise for a prominent example), there are politics driving said genocidal invasion; those politics simply took place within said aliens' society and leadership before they launched their invasion, with the humans getting stuck on the very gruesome end of those politics and being forced to react accordingly. Whether it's resources, territory, ideology, religious belief, or even vanity and petty glory seeking, there's always some form of political motive at play when a war is launched. That's a gross oversimplification, but I hope it gets the point across. Don't worry, the violence that so many of you seem to live for will be coming back with a vengeance once hostilities kick off, and my version of the Soul Society will be in a much more recognizable shape in relation to Bleach canon when the dust settles.

On a separate note, the One Mind and Ichimonji; Double techniques that Itachi shows Byakuya in this chapter are from Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice. Only fitting that Itachi picked them up from Kiemon, who as I mentioned before was styled after Isshin Ashina from that game. Speaking of that game, I'm having an issue with it that I hope one of you might be able to help me with. Still haven't beaten it, and part of the reason is when an update came out quite some time ago it somehow made my copy lose all audio. I play on Xbox One (console peasant, yes, laugh it up you egotistical PC master race pricks), and I haven't been able to figure out for the life of me how to resolve the sound problem. If any of you experienced something similar and know a work-around, I'd really appreciate hearing it.

Regarding the scene with Visaelya singing to Rayala, that was inspired by my absolute favorite scene from House of the Dragon. If you've seen the show, then you know exactly what scene I'm talking about. If you haven't, you're seriously missing out. Damn good stuff, and since I've read the book Fire and Blood that it's based off of, I really can't wait to see all the gruesome deaths that Season Two will have in store for us. Also, Caraxes is best dragon, red noodle boy for the win, fight me!

Alright, I think that's enough out of me. Hope you all enjoyed the chapter. Feel free to review, stay safe, and I'll see you all next time!