2/2

Ahhh. There's nothing like that feeling of purpose and belonging, of settling into your proper place, that Shikai grants. It's impossible not to raise your voice for the command, the way that pride wells up in you. I wished for an instant that my classmates could jump the line and earn Shikai now, just so they could understand it.

Of course, they were probably wishing they were dry, courtesy of the spray of water my release had summoned. Aizen being soaked when I'd first released Arashi hadn't been a fluke occurrence, evidently. Water even spattered the edge of the street, down which a man with a white-ribbon-tied topknot, having narrowly avoided the splash zone, was walking.

"Um, oops?" I said, switching one fan to the other hand so I could rub the nape of my neck in the vein of shounen protagonists everywhere. "I'm so sorry about that, really. I haven't-"

Hiyori recovered first. "What the hell were ya thinkin', princess? Not even a warnin'? What the hell is that Shikai of yers, huh? Some kinda kiddie pool? What a buncha crap! That's so stupid an' annoyin'!"

"Fuck off, pipsqueak," Shinji drawled, Cheshire smile wide and voice wry. Asshole wasn't fazed by anything, was he? "Ya needed a bath like Glasses needs ta get laid."

Ishida approached as they went at it, Shinju mediating in her mother hen way. Her mouth curved in a not-quite-repressed smirk. "Tessen, right? I would've expected a wind-type with that. Water's got waves too, I guess."

I shrugged, half-tempted to tell her Arashi was dual-type. But why bother? She didn't need to know and I didn't need to expose all my secrets. "Yes, tessen." I flicked the fans open and shut a few times. "Everyone had a good look? Good." Sorry, Arashi, but I don't have anything to show them. Tasing my classmates wouldn't be a great idea. Return?

Grudgingly the storms receded. I laid the left fan over the right and let them melt back into sword form. From there it took an instant to sheathe her and return to my wonderfully dry reality. I might've been smirking a bit. Just a little.

Minoru shook his head, creating a miniature rain shower. "White Spiders show up, we'd better hope they're all scared a' water."

My smirk widened, though I found I couldn't shake this smile. Yay for nervous habits. "Just 'cause I'm not flashy-"

"White Spiders?" Ishida cut in, abruptly sharp. "Sorry- Nariko-san, is it? Sorry. You know the White Spiders?"

Minoru went faintly grey. "I- ah, no. No, I don't know 'em. I mean, I do, but I ain't runnin' with them. They are- they were top dogs back in my district." His hand went to the nape of the neck, as mine had, but the briefest flash I caught of blue-green ink was a similarity we definitely didn't share.

Tattoos. Nervousness and defensiveness when the topic of a gang came up. Skill at gauging a person and finding someone he knew in a crowd. The fact that a short, scrawny kid with spiritual power had survived in such a high district in the first place. And hadn't Minoru once mentioned an old gang?

If he hadn't been a White Spider, I'd eat Arashi.

Okay, no I wouldn't, but he'd definitely been in a high-ranking gang in Fugai. If I saw the tattoos he so carefully hid, maybe I'd know which one.

Ishida accepted the answer. "I forgot they grew out of there," she said. "Well, when they finally show their faces around here, maybe you'll be able to help us."

Minoru's pasted-on smile faltered. "Maybe so."

Ishida wandered away. wringing water from her sleeves, and the shadow on Minoru's face lifted. Mine, I was sure, darkened. Time to forgo the knife and use a club.

"Minoru-kun," I whispered as I approached him. "You-"

He turned a hair too sharply for my tastes, though not fast enough to be called a whirl. "Huh?"

I raised my voice by a fraction. Couldn't let someone else hear, though we had to have this conversation while I could still see who was around. "Stay calm, whatever I say. Minoru-kun, you were a White Spider. Or someone similar. Is that going to get us hurt?"

He went still, not statue-still but about-to-pounce-tiger-still. Oh, fuck. I'm not very good at the dramatic reveals, am I? "N-no. N-nononono. I ain't onna those street dogs. I ain't. An' ya can't prove otherwise."

"No, I can't," I agreed, fixing my eyes on his chest so I wouldn't get taken by surprise if he made a break for it. "I don't have a problem with it. I just need to know if-"

"Fuck off," Minoru breathed, barely louder than the dust skittering across the courtyard. "D'ya wanna get me killed? I'm a Shinigami, not a-" Blood beaded on his lip as Minoru bit down on it, trapping whatever he'd been about to say.

"I said I don't have a problem with it," I said, maintaining a placid mask. It wasn't the first time anybody'd cussed me out. Even if my stomach felt sour like I'd just made a huge mistake. "But this isn't about your secrets. This is about our lives- no, don't walk away." I grabbed his arm as Minoru spun to leave. "Don't you dare get us all killed or-"

"-or what?" he snarled, half-turning back to me. His face had snapped back to the defensive mask from earlier. "You'll use yer noble power ta get me arrested? I'd smack ya one if we weren't in public. Just like ya said I could." Something glittered behind those dark eyes, something sharp and wild and bitter if not outright mean. He wrenched his arm from my grip.

"Then do it," I snapped back before he could get more than a few steps. Moron! This isn't a game! Damn mouth had gone dry, or I would've been spitting mad by then. "Never threaten me if you can't follow through."

The last thought I had before my face exploded in pain was, I should stop tempting fate.

I caught a brief flash of the sky through watering eyes as I staggered back. Son of a bitch! My arms, instinctively up, windmilled for an instant. I swiped at my throbbing nose. Or tried to. Slick, hot blood poured between my fingers.

He hit me. He actually hit me. I brought my head back down slowly, looking Minoru dead in the eye. I found no regret there. Chin tucked in, eyes showing more white than color, teeth bared—Minoru was scared of retaliation, but not of what he'd done.

Strangely, I wasn't scared either. More vaguely satisfied. Arashi's storms hummed in my veins, but they weren't waves and lightning, only the constant ocean and ready clouds. My heart disagreed

"Hirako-chan!" Shinju was fluttering at my side, ruining her silken sleeves as she wiped away my blood. She glared at Minoru. "Minoru-kun! How could you?"

"You. Fucking. Bastard!" Shinji, a heartbeat late as he and Hiyori broke from their fight. Summer heat blazed around him, gold light shoving at my head and drying my mouth and-

"Stop!" I shrilled. Not a second too late. Ishida and some redheaded man took the second my shriek bought them to plant themselves between Shinji and Hiyori, united in frothing at the mouth and clawing at their captors. Stop, you idiots!"

Aizen stood off to the side, face bloodless and shaking like the proverbial leaf in the wind. I shuddered and turned my attention back to the melee I'd caused.

It was my fault, really. It was. A stupid promise I stupidly hadn't told anyone about.

"Hirako. Fugai." Torisei was there, all of a sudden, blue eyes laser-focused. I was put sharply in mind of Ryuuken's infamous glare as he stared me down. "You will explain or both your sorry selves will be walking back to Shin'ou this instant."

"A bet," I croaked before Minoru's barely-tamed fire could burn anyone else. "I said something stupid and Fugai-san was completely within his rights to correct me."

"To lay hands upon a noble personage outside of a military context?" Torisei said, reiatsu a chilling razor hanging just above my head. "No. He was not."

"We had an agreement," I pleaded. Fuck me fuck me please don't get him in trouble I was asking for it literally I was asking- "I asked Fugai-san to use physical force to correct me if I said something out of agreed conditions and he held to it. Shouldn't you" -I scrabbled for the right word, any word- "allow my noble personage to establish a contract and complete it?"

Torisei's hands were in his sleeves, but I would've bet 500 kan his hands were in fists. I didn't have to bet his teeth were grinding; I could see that for myself. "Dish duty. You and Fugai. For the rest of your stay. It may be your noble right to conduct informal transactions, but the right to choose punishment or grace lies with your military superior, who for now is myself. From your perspective, it may seem harsh, but I have no intention of doing this in your accustomed way."

No. That's wrong. You don't- I stared at Torisei, at the blue eyes boring into mine. What the hell was it with this guy? He sounded, acted, looked like- like- I had no words for it, only impressions. Someone using 'a' where 'the' was appropriate, a mixed metaphor, substituting a jab for a hook. He was so close, but to what, and how?

Fuck, my head was throbbing too hard to think about this. I'd seen thousands of people in my past life. Maybe it was just some lingering familiarity. Or hell, maybe it was just deja vu. What the fuck was up with this guy?

Torisei didn't seem to know himself. He jerked, eyes flitting away to the redhead. "Wu! Find Abe and have her attend to Hirako. And look over Fugai's hand," he added grudgingly when the man didn't move.

Frog-marching? Really? I'd thought Soul Society was too Eastern for that. But no, we'd taken—or been forced to take—a rather European method to get to the space allotted to whoever Abe was. What Abe was was with a patrol in southern Kinsawa. Thankfully back soon, but still not here right now. Dick. Bitch. Jerk. Whichever.

So Minoru and I sat silent seiza a few paces from Wu's workspace. I guess that was supposed to make sure we didn't get into trouble in the meantime, even if Minoru could've run me through in the time it took Wu to get to us. As nice as it was to have someone respect my possessions—sorry, Arashi—it was starting to look like the principle of honor before reason hadn't been a recent invention in Ichigo's time.

"I gotta say, I didn't expect you to actually hit me," I admitted. As awkward silences went, it wasn't the best thing I could've said to break one.

Minoru's face, gone slack with inattention, creased and fell back into resignation as I watched. "D'ya expect me ta apologize?"

"If you want to," I said, mild as milk mask in place. Not that it was hard to don, considering that after today I was too tired to feel much more than tired. And vaguely bored. Sitting around does that to you. "If you don't, that's fine. I probably deserve to get punched more often than I do." I paused, purely for comedic effect. "Also, that was awesome. You've got a mean jab!" I threw a couple punches at the air.

Minoru made a noise. Several decibels louder, I would've called it a grunt. His shoulders slumped, defiantly straight back rounding as all the air left him. It struck me how small he was. Not just short, nor scrawny, though he was both—Minoru was small, powerless in all the ways that mattered to his adopted society except for his sword arm. And even that was so fragile. Bruises had blossomed on his hand just from punching a surprised teenage girl in the nose.

Toughening skin, increasing stamina, staunching blood flow, strengthening muscles—that was what we needed to learn, not how to walk the streets of people crushed down for centuries and ready to rise up. Because fuck, if I had to see the hands that had carved me a woodblock bloody and shattered again and again over our careers, I'd use mine to dismantle Seireitei myself. The sweet kid who'd carefully traced kana with me should never have to endure that.

"You know, I do enjoy talking to you," I said, shifting position as my feet began to tingle. Dammit. I was out of practice. "And I'm not all that prone to grudges."

"An' who's sayin' that? My friend Nariko-san, or the Hirako princess?" Minoru asked, rusty-brown eyes finally flicking to my face.

"Aww, I'm your friend? Thanks," I drawled. Or I was tempted to, anyway. I kept my mouth shut, thinking. Minoru might have subsided, but it turned out a punch in the face was exactly what I'd needed to realize that just because Minoru was usually shy didn't mean I should take advantage of it. I had to stop teasing him when he wasn't comfortable with it. The sparks he'd been all-but-spitting at me came from a fire I'd probably helped stoke.

What was more worrying was that he had struck a dichotomy that didn't exist. It didn't, right? I was one person with one mind. Even if Arashi liked to chime in to correct my thoughts. Even if those thoughts were often the swords with which clashing opinions fought. Even if I obscured and dodged and put up a front to mask the less-winning parts of my personality.

For Fugen's sake, had I divided myself into the ordinary Nariko and the bland, all-appealing princess of the Hirako?

Better correct that, I noted, hoping Arashi was listening to remind me. Wait. No. That's what's getting me tripped up, isn't it? Trying to excise this and add that to appeal to people? To win allies for when I need them? Fuck me. I don't even like the Hirako that much!

"I didn't know there was a difference," I said, words tumbling out like a guiltless confession. "I hope it's me saying it as a friend, though. 'Cause it's true. I don't have any reason to hold grudges for something fair. Unless you- actually, no, I can't find something pithy for that."

Minoru shook his shaggy black head. "See, ya say that, but I still hear it in the voice of a girl who talked Osaka-ben ta me the first day we met and switched right out the second her brother turned up. Yer embarrassed, ain't ya? Of bein' from a clan with such shitty nicknames, of bein' connected ta people ya don't really mesh with."

A thousand things fell through my head. Embarrassment? My standing out? My feet still falling asleep? "Nicknames?" fell out my mouth.

He nodded. "'Golden Foxes?' Doesn't sound right trustworthy ta me, that's fer sure. 'Fools' Gold' ain't so flatterin' either. Not even gettin' ta the nicknames for nobles—ya think hair that color's common? More likely ta find a Shinigami with a mask than ya are ta find a blond person from the Rukongai. 'Pissmop' is onna the nicer ones, if'n ya ask me. Maybe ya don't hear it on account of ya spendin' all yer time trainin' or readin' or thinkin' whatever damn thoughts spin up in that head, but I've heard all that about you an' Shinji-san. Some of 'em are a bunch of idiots who prob'ly don't know the right way ta fold their kosode, but there're a few who might be able ta give ya a run fer the money in some areas." He touched a cheek that only a couple weeks before had turned up bruised. "Couple find it funny that a bunch who already get accused of courtin' street rats fer information whelped a pair with a few street rat friends."

Minoru finally twisted to fully face me. "So why're ya hangin' around us? First you're sayin' ya wanna change the Seireitei, which ya need ta do a lot of muckin' with politicians fer, then ya scrap with a healin' prodigy an' a noble... an' Nanase-kun. So I heard. Ya know ya can't keep that from Shinji-san forever, right? He's gonna be madder than a stepped-on snake when he finds out. Point is, you're a princess. Maybe not a pretty one, but ya don't have ta be. I ain't experienced with high society and Shinigami stuff like Fujikage-san, but I got enough experience with the poor man's clan." His expression shuttered briefly, then determinedly unfolded. "I can tolerate you bein' indecisive, high-an'-mighty, downright stupid about how ya treat yer friends—honest, Nariko-san, you can kinda be a bitch sometimes. But I've had enough of gettin' used. If- if I'm gonna tell ya what ya wanted ta know out there, be straight with me. Take the mask off."

The well-worn floorboards looked really interesting right about now. Sanded smooth by feet, scattered with stray papers, stained by ink, mud, sake, blood, and some suspicious other fluids... eww. I dragged my eyes up to meet Minoru's.

I couldn't tell him the truth. He wouldn't believe me if I did. And if he did believe me, who knew what he'd do in response? Who knew how many of my memories were right?

I had to tell him some truth. Just not the right one.

I'm sorry, Minoru. My mask can never come off.

I ducked my head. "I- please don't tell Shinji what I'm telling you. I don't know how he'd react. That's- that's not an agreement. Just a request. I can't face him."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Minoru nod. "I've known a lotta screwed-up people, Nariko-san. Ain't anythin' ya could say that'd put me off."

"I want to be more than my parents say I can be," I said, scrunching my hakama in my hands. "They don't- they love Shinji. I don't use that word lightly. They love him. Everything they do, they do for him. He was always going to Shin'ou. I had to beg. When I told them about what I'm not allowed to tell you about" --I swallowed past a tight throat--"they said not to show anyone because it wouldn't make a difference anyway. I'm not as strong as Shinji. Even when I got Shikai, I had to help him get his." I forced a smile. "Sorry. That was a lot of whining. But the point is that they think I won't amount to much. That I'm weak."

Minoru's eyes were narrow, evaluating but not judging. His reiatsu rested, warm and rough, against mine. I couldn't tell if he was trying to tell if I was lying or offering me silent support.

"I want power," I whispered, hearing my laughter screaming through a hurricane's rage. "The princess facade, it's a way to get it. Fighting means obstacles and trouble. If I'm the peacemaker, they can't get mad at me, can they? Stay in the shadows and I can iron out all the problems. So I can protect what's important to me when military power won't cut it. That's- that's what I want more. The power to be a real Shinigami. A god of death. Someone so far up no one will challenge them. Who can crush anyone who tries." Well. Hadn't meant to say that. Even if it didn't feel completely wrong. Or at all.

"What's so bad about that?" Minoru broke in, not a trace of apprehension on his face.

Am I just not as horrible as I think I am, or is he sketchier than I thought? "I-I- um." I ran that sentence through my head again. "I want to hurt people. Isn't that enough?"

"Not fer the sake of it, right?" He shrugged. Was his accent receding at last, or was that just me? "I've known some screwed-up people, like I said. It's the ones that hurt to make people hurt that are the bad ones. You want ta be strong enough—and ruthless with it—ta protect what ya love, don't ya? If the answer ta that's yes, you don't wanna hurt people. Ya know what you'd do to protect 'em, is all. Doesn't mean I trust you completely, but who trusts anyone like that? Thing I need to know is—are we all your friends, or tools?"

I breathed in, trying to ground myself in Arashi's waters' rhythm. "Is there a right answer to that?"

Minoru ran a hand through his hair. "Sure. The truth. One of my first friends in Fugai, Saikhan, he wanted to rule the streets. Not fer any reason, just to have the power. Freaked the heck outta me, so I went along with it for a bit. Then he got turned into a pincushion when he went for the wrong gang leader's throat. Now she wanted power, but not at the expense of her friends. Or convinced us it was that way." He scowled. "Bad example. But if you're like Mari, an' ya have a goal for the power an' know what lines ya wouldn't cross with it, say so."

Take the mask off. I had a goal. I wanted to turn this stagnant, floundering mess of a society into an efficient order that could react when- if Aizen went off the deep end. I had lines I wouldn't cross. I couldn't betray my friends, couldn't drag innocents into a conflict, couldn't lie. Those were good starting points, right?

But I'd gotten close to my friends for purposes. Minoru was supposed to be a project, a future ally if everything went to hell as Before. I'd befriended Shinju to smooth our time rooming together. I'd hoped to keep Nanase out of trouble by reaching out to him. Hiyori and Shinji were probably the only ones free of that, though the former I was obligated to care about.

Idiot. Hadn't I said myself that I'd befriended people knowing I'd come to care about them? It hadn't been a lie. My original intent didn't matter now that I did feel those bonds of affection tugging on my heart. Why else was it that I had tried to comfort Shinju, or apologized—though heaven knew I needed to do it more—to Nanase, or was confessing to Minoru now?

Maybe I was neither as horrible or as benevolent a person as I believed.

"You're my friends," I answered at last. "Not tools."

Minoru's shoulders lowered from around his ears. "Good. I'm not gonna find a knife in my back down the road, then."

I laughed. "I doubt it." Waited a few moments so it didn't sound like I'd been playing him the whole time. "So, this 'Mari'—she led whatever group you were with?"

Minoru sighed, a hissing sound like water on a fire. His reiatsu spread through the room, pressing against everywhere someone could be eavesdropping. "Fair's fair. You- you were right. I worked for the White Spiders. I have- stuff on my back ta prove it."

"In blue?" I gave him my best 'I'm not that stupid' eyebrow raise. "With a name like that, I would've expected white."

His hand went to the back of his neck. "Kinda white ink we had fades real fast. White Spiders, they like ta mark you. Even if you get away, ya can't get away." He shuddered. I probably didn't want to know the story behind that.

"Mari?" I prompted as the silence dragged on.

He shook himself. "Yeah. Mari. She- well, see if ya can guess why the first symbol she puts on recruits is this." He leaned forward, lifted shaggy black hair with one hand and pulled down his collar.

I stared for a few seconds. Tried to blink away the image in front of me. I had to be seeing wrong. It was impossible. Too early. Too bizarre. On top of the Shinigami, of my friends, of the souls of Kinsawa, I had to deal with- "Quincy?" I hissed. "You were in a gang run by a freakin' Quincy?!"

His hands fell back into his lap, letting cloth and hair veil that damning blue-green cross. A cross. An ornate one, too. Amidst the simpler ones I'd glimpsed beneath it, it was easy to see where Mari's priorities lay. Spiders were loyal to a Quincy before they were loyal to anything else. "No, I just like getting permanently tattooed with symbols of Public Enemy #1," he snarked.

Ask a stupid question, daoshi... Arashi teased.

Oh, now you're taking an interest? I complained to her without any bite to it. It's not even winter anymore! You have no excuse!

Clouds and mist rolled like arms folding. And deprive you of the chance to question yourself without your soul telling you what's what? I think not.

I turned back to Minoru. Just because she was right didn't mean I had to like it. "Okay, okay, I'm an idiot sometimes. Get on with it."

He half-smiled. "Well, I wasn't gonna say anythin'. Anyway. Not much else different from the usual troops roamin' the streets. Mari was the only one I knew who had- that kind of power. She thought there were others. Not sure if that shoulda clued me inta how batshit she really is or not."

"What do you mean, crazy?" I asked. Some people would've called me crazy. Batshit didn't tell me much.

"I mean she wanted to topple the Shinigami."

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

I checked my memory. Checked my hearing. Checked my memory again. My eyes were working, obviously, but my ears had clearly failed in their place. Take down the ruling power of the whole world? The one that'd held power for centuries upon centuries? That boasted as a leader a man who could destroy the universe at his strongest?

"Yeah, that's pretty crazy," I said hoarsely. You couldn't just do that. Sure, I knew the Shinigami wouldn't always be this entrenched. Or did I? Bleach never had focused on high society. Or the intricacies of military life. Or really anything that wasn't fighting or drama to lead to fighting. But they'd relaxed. Even if the Shinigami had only loosened their death grip on Soul Society by a finger or two in the grand scheme of things. After centuries. To get them to let go, you'd have to chop the whole hand off.

"I dunno if she's still like that," Minoru backpedaled. "I spent a while shakin' them before I got ta Shin'ou. An' obviously it's been more time since then. Maybe she backed off."

"Or maybe she got stronger," I said, stomach flip-flopping as I remembered a prostitute screeching about being arrested for advertising with a white scarf. "She's had time. Enough for more people who aren't happy with Seireitei to throw their support to her. Enough to get allies of her own." And with the readiness I'd seen in some of our convoy to draw their swords, and centuries of people being crushed under the rule of Shinigami...

Minoru bit his lip. "I think-" He blanched, mouth clamping shut.

An instant later, the sliding door admitted eight Shinigami, all in various states of done-with-your-shit. Frayed, damp reiatsu like rope lashed around this one, disinterested, cool serpentine reiatsu slunk around that... it was the perfect hubbub for me to finally drip a bit of reiatsu into my seals. And then to pick my jaw up off the floor, because Shin'ou was a confusing slurry of still-settling and unformed spirits. Real Zanpakutou were beautiful.

Oh, sure, they weren't all pretty the way Arashi was. But there was something that made me stifle gasps at each one. A bearlike warrior in burnished bronze armor lumbered past, shaking his head and grumbling at a silver-bearded man in front of him. A bird-faced eel crooned a melody I couldn't quite distinguish into a woman's pointed ears. A whispering vine with hundred-colored blooms twined around someone's ample belly.

And fluttering in sourly behind them all came a winged baby, skin so yellow it would've put jaundice patients to shame and unholy halo far too big for something its size.

Wait.

Yellow skin.

Halo.

Winged. Freaking. Baby.

That asshole. Oh, maybe he hadn't done anything yet, but it was only a matter of time. Kurotsuchi was a monster, an arrogant, selfish butcher who split the world into two categories: people he could torture and chop up and brainwash and whose screams he could laugh at and people who let him have the first people. He didn't deserve to be slouching through that door, slathered in white facepaint and black lipstick. Kurotsuchi should've been locked up and the key thrown away. Arashi's shrieks at my side gave voice to what I only wished I could say. Mostly the worst profanities I knew.

An artist's hand on my shoulder. "Nariko-san? You okay? Reiatsu's bleedin' out."

"Sure," I growled, pulling storms back under my skin where that arrogant bastard couldn't taint them. The damn specters and their chatter faded. "Let's say I'm okay." Even if it was a blatant lie, if one I wasn't telling. The tiny scorch marks where my fingers had pressed against the floor gave it away, but who was looking there? They'd be looking for a face glaring up even as it tilted towards the ground, clenched teeth, a tight throat constricting speech. All of which I set to rights, lifting my chin, working my jaw, and taking a few deep mouth-breaths. The perfect, reasonable mask fell back in place.

A be-ponytailed, barrel-chested woman strode over from Wu's workspace, just about knocking down two hapless desk monkeys on her way. "Alright," she said, grinning and cracking her knuckles, "which one of you started it? My money's on the noble!" She glanced between us, allowing about two seconds before continuing on. "C'mon, don't be shy! That's no way to treat a healer!"

"A-Abe-senpai?" Minoru and I stammered, identically confused. Or in my case, happy to be confused so I didn't have to be homicidal.

Her grin widened in answer. Cardinal-red light leaping to her hands and melting into the mint green of healing, she stepped closer and raised glowing palms. "This might sting a little."

Had I said I had no problem getting undressed in front of complete strangers and classmates? Well, it turned out I was completely right. Not that I was deliberately giving them a show, but it was a nonissue. Except for Shinju, who'd somehow changed beneath her covers (as the faint teasing of Shinigami nearer her bunk informed me), and Aizen, who had his eyes squeezed shut, no one else cared either. Nice to know.

"Y'know we got chewed out 'cause of you?" Hiyori grumbled as she slipped into jinbei that swallowed her up. "What was that even about, huh? That brat half-cat or somethin'?"

"Pot, kettle," I retorted. Damn, where're my jinbei- oh, there you went. I dug out a pair of ratty periwinkle jinbei that I hadn't had the heart to turn into cleaning rags.

"Hey!" Hiyori snapped, voice not at all muffled by cloth as I yanked the top over my head. "Just answer me, ya numbskull!"

"I was a jerk," I answered, finally working my head through the proper hole. "Not sure if you've noticed." And if you keep asking, I'll break your nose too. Yes, apparently Minoru had actually broken my nose. It'd only taken a few minutes for Abe to reroute my damaged reiryoku pathways and her laughter had implied it wasn't bad as Shinigami injuries went. Still, I felt the drain from my body directing its resources to fix my nose.

She accepted it. Or maybe she just wanted an excuse to rag on me. "Hell yeah I noticed! First thing I spotted about ya, moron! Why, I-"

"Shut up," the woman above me groaned. "Lights' out is for getting your rocks off or sleeping only."

"Bet that's not what Torisei-sama said," I muttered, clambering into bed.

An exhausted huff. "What he doesn't know won't hurt him. It's only the other way 'round. I'd recommend resting up for your first mission."

With that, she snuffed the nearest lantern and left me to my thoughts.

Torisei was weird. Not awful weird, just deja vu weird. I got it all the time around here, so that was nothing new. I wrote him off as anything but an annoying superior. Sure, he really liked the conservative front that got you passage nearly anywhere in Seireitei, but that was no surprise someone in the Sixth. He was like the opposite of Oshiro, I told myself, safe as long as I followed the rules.

What Minoru had said was more troubling. A gang led by an apparently charismatic Quincy was exactly what I didn't need. Worse, one who was very proud of it. Who somehow remembered some of her powers, if 'pincushion' was an accurate description of Minoru's friend's punishment.

Yeah, we were all screwed if all those were true. Swords I wasn't great with already. Fighting someone who could skewer me from a distance sounded even less fun. If I wanted to get close enough to zap this 'Mari' lady, I'd probably have to use my comrades as human shields. And that wasn't happening.

Best we could hope for was that Mari hadn't gathered more gangs under her. Even Shinigami could only fight for so long before they started doing shitloads of collateral damage—to friend as well as foe and surroundings. That or the Shinigami lost.

I couldn't let that happen. I couldn't lose. I couldn't die, not so early, before anything happened. Whatever this field trip threw at me, I had to walk away. Just saying that didn't help the way my eyes refused to stay shut, though. Didn't stop the fire-ice twinges in my stomach either.

Sorry, Minoru. Maybe it was the princess mask talking after all. 'Cause I can't die here.

Notes:

Fugen, according to my sources, is a Japanese kami of truth. Note that I didn't say god, though Nariko invoking him is in accordance with his nature.

Jinbei are something similar to Japanese pajamas. Seemed fitting.