It's difficult to decide how much gratuitous Japanese to work into stories like this for me. Like, there are plenty of times when using the original terms feels right, but often it feels like I'm trying too hard. I don't speak Japanese; I'm not writing in Japanese.

I've tried to strike a decent balance here.

I hope I've succeeded.

.

One of Matsumoto's favorite hobbies was to see how quickly she could make Hitsugaya's entire face go red from embarrassment; she did this whenever she was bored. The unfortunate thing for Hitsugaya was that she was often in such a state, and that meant he had no choice but to deal with it. His hope of having an icy, stony demeanor that inspired respect and fear in everyone who crossed his path was a lost job; he'd thought he'd come to grips with it by now, but in the darkest parts of himself Hitsugaya knew he wasn't there. He doubted very much that he would ever get there.

"If I didn't know better," Matsumoto said, "I'd think you were trying to start a family."

"Rangiku. Stop it."

Matsumoto's eyelashes fluttered. "If you wanted to adopt children, you could have just asked." She grinned devilishly. "You didn't have to set up this whole blood mystery to get me involved." She was managing to keep a straight face, but Hitsugaya heard how much strain she was putting on herself to do it. "I'll admit it's an interesting way to go about it, but . . . honestly. You're always so dramatic."

"Rangiku."

Sitting on her desk, kicking her legs like a schoolgirl, Matsumoto was clearly enjoying herself. Her eyes were sparkling, and the grin on her face reached her ears. "In seriousness," she said, "I appreciated the invocation of the Sokyoku." She nodded. "Nice touch. Really sold it."

Hitsugaya shrugged, but the fire in his eyes dimmed a bit. "I had to sell it," he said. "Kids are sharp. You can't hedge your bets with them." He eyed his vice-captain like he was trying to project something directly into her brain. "It took me entirely too long to convince Captain Shiba of that, and you aren't going to catch me being a hypocrite about it."

"We don't usually recruit souls this early," Matsumoto noted, dropping the joke. "Are you sure this is the right path to take?"

"They aren't ready for the academy," Hitsugaya admitted. "I'm not training them to be soldiers. I'm going to teach them how to protect themselves." He scowled. "I don't know what to make of the mastermind behind all this."

"Mister West," Matsumoto said, sounding fabulously unimpressed.

Hitsugaya tapped a rhythm on his desk with two fingers. "I don't think we've found nearly enough pieces of this puzzle, and I intend to find them. That's why I need them close, and I need them busy. It's the best way to keep proper tabs on them."

"You don't seriously think those two are going to cause trouble, do you?" Matsumoto looked scandalized. "Come now. Be realistic. It isn't a good look for you to get paranoid now." Her eyes narrowed. "Toshiro. Look at me and tell me you know these mites aren't a threat."

Hitsugaya closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, then eyed Matsumoto grimly. "I don't want to think ill of them," he said, "but I don't believe in coincidences. After Aizen, I can't afford to. If I'm wrong—and I dearly hope that I am—then they still need to know how to protect themselves. The next time a Mister West shows up and tries to force them into something, they need to be able to handle it."

Matsumoto didn't look fully convinced, but her glare softened. "What about that one we caught? Have you heard anything? I feel like you're not telling me everything. Did Captain Kurotsuchi get anything from him?"

Hitsugaya shook his head. "I haven't heard anything, Rangiku. I'm just thinking ahead."

"Hm." Matsumoto hopped off her desk and looked over at the door. "I'm going to find out what their favorite colors are. See about weaving a bit of life into their shihakusho, at least the himo. It's only right, considering how tiny they are. Don't you think?"

It was a challenge.

Hitsugaya gestured invitingly. "As you will," he said.

Matsumoto quirked an eyebrow. "I'm going to admit, I was fully expecting you to cite protocol at me. Figured you would say something about how our uniforms are sacred and they shouldn't be trivialized."

Hitsugaya waved her away. "Ever since Zaraki showed up, any hope I had of maintaining that level of decorum in this court went up in smoke. It's not worth the headache to be so particular." He looked across his desk, picked up a pen. "I have an incident report to finish," he said. "Don't be too long."

Matsumoto winked. "No promises."

Hitsugaya rolled his eyes. "Of course not. Go on."