I think I mentioned before, but if I didn't, then it should be noted that 50 is the finish line for this project. Generally, when I hit on a story these days, I find that 50 is a nice clean number. I like using it. So, we've got 10 more to wrap this one.

Like a Christmas gift.

I don't know if this will be a satisfactory mystery, or whatever genre this is, but I hope you've had fun all the same.

I tried my best.

.

Of all the things that drew her attention in the opulent room where Matsumoto found herself deposited, it was the plant that kept snagging in her brain. There was something novel about it, and she found herself stepping away from the bed, from the chairs, from the little library, just to keep near the plant. There were no flowers, nothing that gave it any kind of ornamentation, and yet it was . . . so green.

Matsumoto didn't think she'd ever seen anything quite so green.

She frowned. "What . . . is wrong with me?"

She was supposed to be waiting, watching, for the right moment. She was supposed to be ready to move, no matter what happened. There was no such thing as being captured, not for her, not for a vice-captain. Matsumoto didn't have time to stare at a houseplant, and she certainly didn't have time to ruminate on the symbolism of green.

It was, however, that very plant, and the absolute silence in which she studied it, that permitted Matsumoto to hear something on the other side of the door. She immediately pivoted her attention from the little pot, and its veridian resident, to the hallway outside this little gilded cage.

She settled against the door, placed her ear against it, and waited.

Eventually, she heard the voice again.

"You said nothing about who was off-limits! You don't get to act like I'm out of line because you never bothered to tell me about exceptions!"

That was the one who'd caught her.

The puppet.

The next voice, the person to whom he was speaking, Matsumoto couldn't place; but that must be Nishi. She couldn't shake the feeling that she knew that voice, but she had no idea why. Or from where. There was something almost nostalgic about that voice, something that kept hooking in her memory, and she wondered what that might mean.

"Take care with your tone," said Nishi. "This has nothing to do with blame and everything to do with the mission. Do you think I care whether you have room to cry for clemency? Have you forgotten our arrangement? There is a nest I could send you, if you need a place of quiet contemplation." A pause of heavy, stifling silence. "That's what I thought. Now. Answer the question. Why . . . her?"

"The opportunity presented itself. You said I should take opportunities that presented themselves."

"And you didn't think to wonder whether a better opportunity might suit you? Maybe the last thing we could ever want is to draw more attention from the people already tracking us down? Why did you not make your start with a seated officer? Or someone from the Third, or Fourth?"

"Taking out two of the eyes on us makes the whole court more blind."

". . . Ah. So you are an idiot. I see I was not wrong to believe it. Never mind that you were stupid enough to target a vice-captain this soon, but you chose the one vice-captain in this entire damned military who is explicitly romantic with her captain. What do you imagine Toshiro Hitsugaya will do once he discovers that his woman is gone? Do you think he will do the smart thing and remain impartial? The youngest and most impetuous captain in all the Thirteen? He will move now, and he will bring his allies with him."

"What allies? The divisions are more divided than ever."

"What allies. Are you stupid? The Fifth, for one, whose vice-captain is his closest friend, and whose captain has direct cause to want my head dashed across the closest stones! The Eleventh, for another, whose captain has never needed an excuse to jump into a fight."

"Kenpachi Zaraki would never target us."

"You're that certain. Fascinating. I suppose we'll find out. Just don't come crying to me when you're split down the middle, you goddamned fool."

Matsumoto smiled; she had to bite the inside of her cheek so that she didn't laugh out loud. She turned her attention, inadvertently, back to the little plant in the window. She watched, mesmerized, as the tips of the little leaves frosted over.

It was colder.

So much colder.

Matsumoto's eyes gleamed.