There is one rule, I think, in all of Soul Society.

Never underestimate Kenpachi Zaraki's capacity for absolute fuckery.

.

The only warning that Nishi's little bird had been dead wrong about not Kenpachi Zaraki and the danger he represented was when the mansion's front doors buckled inward and then burst into a shower of splinters that shot every which way into the parlor.

The wayward leader of the Eleventh Division cackled like a madman as he barreled into the front parlor of the Kasumioji manor-house. "What was that about not targeting you?!" he demanded. "The only thing that gears me up more than a worthwhile opponent is some asshole telling me I won't fight 'em!"

Hitsugaya and Hinamori both stepped gingerly into the room, while Ikkaku and Yumichika stood sentinel by Zaraki and . . . watched. Regardless of how much Yumichika had talked about wanting to skin Nishi alive, now that the battle lines had been drawn, he seemed more than content to stand sentinel; no doubt this was pure habit. Once Kenpachi Zaraki claimed an opponent, every member of his corps knew better than to get in his way.

One man, standing there in dumb confusion, staring up at Zaraki like he'd never seen a beast dress in clothes before, wore a simple, unadorned shihakusho. It bothered Hitsugaya that he couldn't recognize a fellow reaper, but the puppet's face was so stretched and bunched and carved up by scar tissue that there was no way to tell what he might look like.

There were two other observers to this charade, on the opposite side of the parlor as Yumichika and Ikkaku: one was a veiled youth dressed in white-and-silver finery. Doubtless, this was a scion of the Kasumioji family, the money behind this nameless operation. The other was dressed in rags, nothing but layer upon layer of bloody, muddy robes and cloaks.

Hitsugaya wondered if this was Nishi.

Then he caught sight of Matsumoto's bright pink scarf tucked into the mess and realized that there was no way this wasn't Nishi; he wore his conquests on his person.

Of course.

Something coiled in Hitsugaya's gut.

Although the Kasumioji child was much more richly and deliberately dressed, Hitsugaya couldn't help but notice that there were no faces in this room; only vague approximations of poverty and opulence, made manifest in a marbled museum filled with vases and paintings.

While Zaraki held out his arms and made his usual offer to his opponent of making the first cut, Hitsugaya gestured for his oldest friend to follow him. He and Hinamori slipped across the room, using the innate attention magnet that was Zaraki's entire personality. They mounted an elaborate staircase and wove their way up, up, up, to a long hallway.

Up here, with plush carpets and low ceilings, it was silent.

Hitsugaya smiled, feeling a surge of pride that Isshin Kurosaki would have recognized immediately, as the twins sneaked up behind them. Izumi, crouched low to the floor, held up a finger over her lips. Hibiki, for his part, was practically crawling.

"What's the plan, Captain Hitsugaya?" Hinamori whispered.

"Find Rangiku first," Hitsugaya said. "Then his other puppets."

"Are we sure he has Vice-Captain Matsumoto here? In this house?"

"She's his most valuable catch," Hitsugaya said. "She's here."

"Miss Matsu's that ways," Izumi said, pointing down the hallway. "Mister West gots her shadow. We can feels her."

Hibiki was nodding vigorously.

Hinamori opened her mouth to say something else, hesitated, then stopped. She followed Hitsugaya and the children, flinching at the crashing sounds she could hear behind, beneath, them. "Well," she said, after a short lull, "the house is still intact. I guess Captain Zaraki mustn't be serious yet. That's a good thing, right?"

Every door in front, behind, beneath, and above them; every window, every mirror, everything that wasn't the barest skeleton of the structure, buckled and cracked, then the doors all blew off their hinges at the same time, crashing into each other and bouncing down the hall like toys thrown by an unruly toddler.

Hitsugaya straightened, dumbfounded; then he started laughing.