Sometimes you just have to roll with the punches.

Human beings are a species built upon adaptability, after all.

I can't imagine that trait disappears once you die.

.

Rangiku Matsumoto strode down the street, making a point to not touch her sword.

She didn't make eye contact with anyone; it was growing more and more difficult to pretend that she still trusted everyone equally. She spent most of her time eyeing peoples' feet, seeking out their shadows. It didn't escape her notice that none of the spirits in Rukongai seemed to have been taken up by their adversary; he didn't want anyone from Rukongai. He'd managed to weasel his way into the Court of Pure Souls, after all. What possible use could he have for the rabble anymore?

She ran through these thoughts, and many others, trying to tell herself that she was paying close attention, that she wouldn't be caught unawares. Matsumoto was close, so close, to believing herself. Ironically, she'd just started to actually believe herself when she realized, looking down, that there was something—someone—intersecting with her own shadow.

"I think, maybe, you convinced yourself that he wouldn't catch you."

Matsumoto closed her eyes, grimacing. She bit back a snappy retort.

There was no use in giving the enemy what it wanted. She wasn't to beg, and she wasn't going to fall into any other traps. She wouldn't. She was going to turn this to her advantage. This was an opportunity. All she had to do was be patient.

Matsumoto said: "What happens now? Shall I assume this means Nishi wants to meet with me?"

A low laugh; barely there, almost an afterthought. "Oh-ho. So you know his old name. How informed you are. I suppose we should expect nothing less from a vice-captain. You're clearly more than a hired sword; more than a pretty face. I wonder: what can that pretty sword of yours do? How gifted are you?"

Matsumoto had no intention of answering. She wouldn't rise to the bait.

She wouldn't give away information, even if the enemy already knew it. She wouldn't play this game, even if Nishi had other methods. She had no obligation to make anything easier for him, and she had every intention of holding out as long as she possibly could.

She would show this street-level puppeteer just what it meant to rustle with a vice-captain.

She would show him just what a mistake he'd made.

"You can lie, you know," the puppet said, seductively, chuckling again. "You're under no obligation to tell the truth, after all. If I'm being honest, actually, I think lying tells me more information than the truth does. I like the ones who lie. They're more interesting. More honorable, in their own way. After all, how much honor can you claim to possess if you won't protect classified information? I ask you."

Matsumoto bent her focus on the man's voice; who was this one? Was his voice actually familiar or was her mind just filling in so many blanks that she only thought it was? Nishi was clearly stronger than they'd thought, if he could capture a proper officer through the use of a proxy. Perhaps that was why he was doing this now. It was a test. He was stretching his limits now, seeing just how much of a problem he could make for Seireitei.

Was it smart to trust the capture of a vice-captain to a puppet?

Did it matter? Did he care? What, exactly, did he want with her?

Had he chosen her on purpose?

It struck Matsumoto in that moment just how little she, or any soul reaper, knew about this man.

She had no idea what kind of danger she was in, and she had no idea what her options were.

She didn't want to give Nishi what he wanted, but she realized as she tugged at her legs—only to find herself utterly unable to move—that she had precious little choice in the matter. She only had the one option left, didn't she? Whether the enemy gave her the idea or not, it wasn't important. She was long past that point, and there was no use in hesitating.

She had no choice.

"All right," Matsumoto lied. "I'll play along."