Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Minutes to Midnight ❯ The Twilight Hour Part IV ( Chapter 16 )

Title: The Twilight Hour (Part Four)

Characters: Ichigo/Gin, Izuru, Sousuke, Byakuya, Urahara, Stark, Gotei 13

Rating: M

Warning: Lemony-limeish Slash, Language

Words: 4948

Description: Of adrenaline and discoveries. The aftermath of Gin and Ichigo's visit hits Soul Society hard as they struggle to understand what happened.

 

 

The moment Gin stepped into the halls of Las Noches, fingers clutched onto his robes and pushed him up against the wall. His body tensed for an attack until he recognized the scent of his lover, and he relaxed. That was seconds before lips were pressed against his hungrily, a tongue shoving into his mouth and tangling with his.

 

Gin moaned, hands rising to tangle in Ichigo's hair as his lover dropped his hands, grabbing Gin's hips and grinding their bodies together. He loved it when Ichigo was aggressive like this, adrenaline-pumped and wanting, all sense of embarrassment and restraint abandoned. It made his own lust multiply as he was ravaged, an edge of hunger and violence flavoring their coupling.

 

His body eagerly responded, arousal lengthening in desire. Ichigo groaned as he dove into Gin's neck, hungrily nipping and licking at the pale skin. He left little red marks in his wake, unable to get enough of his lover.

 

A voice attempted to break through the lusty haze. “Ano... taichou?” Izuru said tentatively, rather red in the face.

 

“Good luck getting their attention,” Stark drawled, suddenly appearing out of the shadows as most of Hueco Mundo residents seemed fond of doing.

 

Izuru jumped in surprise, whirling to face the stranger. He nearly dropped his pack as he stared at the Espada who towered over him by a good half-head, the smirk on his face lazy and assured.

 

The brunet lifted a surprised brow. “My, you're a cute one,” he commented, much to Izuru's embarrassment.

 

He spluttered, searching for something to counter with as the sounds of lips smacking and groping hands continued just behind them. Then, he heard footsteps heading their direction down the hallway.

 

“Stark, don't tease Izuru-kun,” Aizen chastised, lips drawing into an amused smile as he strode towards them. He was accompanied by Urahara, whose geta made an annoying clack-clack with every step. Aizen still hadn't been able to convince the man to switch to a pair of much quieter waraji.

 

Izuru hesitantly stepped away from Stark, finding a smile for the lord and master of Hueco Mundo. “Aizen-taichou,” he greeted with a dip of his head.

 

He was interrupted from saying anything further when Urahara tittered, his gaze locked on the two currently engaged with each other. “That looks like fun, Sou-kun,” the shop owner stated with a wave of his randomly appearing fan. “We should try it.”

 

A look of supreme annoyance attacked Aizen's face for the briefest instant. “Kisuke, now is not the time,” he reminded his friend.

Urahara faked a pout, waving the fan in front of his face. “You never let me have any fun.”

 

A growl interrupted their witty banter as Ichigo threw a glare over his shoulder, lips reddened and bruised. “You're ruining the mood,” he insisted. “Two choices. Either leave or stay and watch cause we're not finished.”

 

The shopkeeper brightened at the alternatives, while Izuru's face burned even brighter. It wasn't so much that he was a virgin or anything like that, but he wasn't used to seeing someone he considered a cross between older brother and mentor in such a position. Nearby, Stark burst into laughter as Ichigo's gaze swung to Urahara.

 

Brown eyes narrowed. “Except you,” the teenager clarified. “You can't stay.”

 

“Itsygo!” Nel's voice ricocheted down the hall.

 

However, before she could glomp onto her favorite human, Stark's hand snaked out and grabbed the back of her robe. She was left dangling in his grasp.

 

“Now's not a good time,” the first Espada explained with a smirk, watching as she struggled for all of two seconds before looking at him over her shoulder with a pout.

 

The girl wriggled. “Awww,” she whined. “But I wants ta hug Itsygo!”

 

“Nel,” Ulquiorra's gravid tone interjected, appearing suddenly from down the hall. His hands were shoved into his pockets with usual disdain. “Kurosaki is busy.”

 

Amazingly enough, her sulk disappeared, melting into a happy grin. “Will Ulqui-chan play with me then?”

 

The look on the fourth Espada's face was entirely deadpan, despite Stark's continuous snickering in the background. Before Ulquiorra could respond, if he even planned to do so in the first place, Aizen interjected.

 

“Izuru-kun, would you like to be shown a room?” the evil overlord queried pleasantly, voice implying that the best of his subordinates better skedaddle as well.

 

The former vice-captain nodded. “Hai, Aizen-taichou,” he answered. Glancing one last time at Ichimaru and Ichigo, he hurried to Aizen's side, cheeks still a fiery red.

 

“Nice to see you again, Kira-kun,” Urahara greeted as Izuru joined them, a smile on his face. They headed down the hall.

 

Aizen, however, paused and glanced at his subordinates and heirs. “Do make this quick, Gin. I want to hear of your exploits.”

 

Ichigo chose that moment to roll his hips against Gin's. The man gasped, his fingers digging into Ichigo's shoulder.

 

“Hai, Aizen-taichou,” Gin answered. And then, his mouth was captured by his lover's. All else was lost to the heat of Ichigo's lips.

 

Rolling his eyes, Stark wiggled Nel, who was still in his grasp. “C'mon brat, I think Grimmjow is looking for someone to spar with.”

 

“She should not waste her time with that idiot,” Ulquiorra inserted tonelessly but walked off with the first and fifth Espada anyway.

 

“Yay!” Nel cheered, squirming playful. “Mebbe I can make 'im a kitty 'gin.”

 

Stark nearly choked on his laughter at the thought of Nel petting Grimmjow. Even he couldn't deny that those ears were just too adorable, killing any belief that the Espada was a dangerous beast.

 

Their voices faded as they disappeared down the hall, leaving the two lovers to their business.

 

“They finally left,” Ichigo muttered, mouth hungrily gnawing at Gin's throat. His lips devoured pale skin, leaving streaks of saliva in his wake and a ring of marks.

 

“Mmm,” Gin murmured and rolled his hips against his lover's. “Ichigo... M'hungry.”

 

Ichigo chuckled. “I'm sure you are.” He dragged his hands between their bodies and parted Gin's clothes, freeing his arousal. “Gotta make this fast.” He clamped down on an exposed shoulder and neck, leaving teeth marks.

 

Gin shuddered and pushed back against the wall, wrapping his legs around Ichigo's waist. His groin came in contact with Ichigo. He could feel his lover's arousal straining against his hakama. One hand moved to his hips, helping to hold him in place as the Ichigo's other fumbled for his own clothes. He undid the obi, managing to free himself to the relatively chilly air of Hueco Mundo. Not that it mattered with the blood burning through their bodies, making both of them hot and hungry.

 

Their mouths devoured each other, tongues sloppily smacking. Gin reached between them and curled his fingers around Ichigo's length, stroking him and rubbing a thumb over the moistened head. Ichigo groaned and bucked forward, pushing Gin against the wall with a low thud.

 

“Kami, you're going to kill me,” he muttered, dragging his lips to Gin's ear and tonguing it ruthlessly.

 

Gin chuckled under his breath and briefly squeezed before continuing his stroking. Ichigo's hand joined his, snaking between them and grabbing Gin's own arousal. They stroked each other in alternating rhythms, the sounds of their gasps filling the now empty hallway.

 

“I can think of worse ways ta die,” Gin responded, free hand snaking around Ichigo's neck for balance, elbow dragging his lover closer as his hips rocked into the teenager's grip.

 

He received his answer as teeth grazed his ear before latching down onto the side of his throat, applying just enough pain and pleasure to make his body shiver. It was nothing a whispered kidoh wouldn't heal later if he bothered, but it made him sizzle with want and need. Ichigo's hands worked him skillfully, and Gin wished they had time for far more than hurried and shared hand jobs. He had the urge to feel Ichigo moving inside of him, to feel their naked bodies pressed together and covered in sweat. The adrenaline from their mission burned in his blood. A part of him could still smell the burning buildings and the sharp, copper scent of Hitsugaya's blood.

 

Like before, Gin didn't bother to hold himself back. He let the coiling in his gut twist and grow, let the warmth become a full blown blaze. He allowed himself to enjoy Ichigo's touch, giving in to the sensations his younger lover brought to him. Gin's thin fingers clutched all the tighter to Ichigo, body moving sinuously in the teenager's grasp. He heard the sounds his lover made, harsh breathing and quiet grunts and groans, felt the flex of Ichigo's shoulders beneath his fingertips.

 

Their bodies moved, straining and pushing, hands in constant motion. Gin turns his head, forcing Ichigo's lips to meet with his. Their mouths came together, open and hungry, exchanging heated breaths that tasted faintly of power. It always seemed as if Ichigo bathed in it, the press of his reiatsu and the taste of spirit and strength on his tongue. And there was always a bare hint of innocence that Gin greedily craved.

 

Tongues tangled sloppily, lips absorbing heated moans, and Gin felt his groin tighten. He tightened his grip on Ichigo's length, even as he let his orgasm wash over him, pleasure spiking through his entire body. Ichigo seemed to enjoy bringing his older lover to climax first, biting down gently on Gin's bottom lip. He thrust his hips upward, grinding against the man's lithe frame. A few more steady pumps from Gin's fingers, and he spilled himself between their bodies, covering their fingers in warm release.

 

Panting, they shared a slow and lingering kiss, ignoring the sweat that streaked across their skin and dampening their robes. Ichigo flexed his fingers around Gin's hips as the former captain carefully unwrapped his legs and lowered himself to the ground. Ichigo tangled the fingers of his free hand in Gin's hair, directing his head for a deeper kiss. A tongue slithered against his, completely savoring the taste before he allowed the press of time to knock against him.

 

He broke away with much reluctance, a smirk already curling his lips. As Ichigo watched with lidded eyes, Gin drew his fingers to his lips and curled a tongue around his lover's release.

 

A growl echoed in Ichigo's throat. “You're seriously threatening my restraint,” he murmured, digging a hand into Gin's pocket and pulling out a handkerchief they had learned to carry around.

 

“They're dirty,” Gin said simply, pretending innocence.

 

Ichigo rolled his eyes and wiped the rest of it off with the handkerchief, cleaning both their hands. “I don't know what to do with you.”

 

“I can think of a few things,” Gin replied with a grin, dipping his head and kissing Ichigo again. His hand slithered around Ichigo's waist, dragging his lover towards him. The inch Ichigo had recently gained made it a lot easier to kiss him.

 

“Aizen's waiting,” the teenager reminded, teeth grazing along Gin's reddened lower lip.

 

With a fake pout and sigh, the man drew back, moving his deft hands to his own clothing to tuck himself back in and retie his obi. He watched as Ichigo did the same, an aura of reluctance covering both of them.

 

“Fine,” Gin agreed. “But aftawards, yer mine.”

 

Judging by the glint in Ichigo's eyes, there was no argument on his part. None at all.

 

******

 

“I think he's coming around.”

 

“Kuchiki-san? Kuchiki Byakuya, can you hear me?”

 

The voice filtered through his conscious completely without his consent, though there was a soft lilt to its tone that didn't make his head throb quite as much as the other. Byakuya peeled open his eyes and instantly winced at the harsh brightness that assailed them. A groan slipped from his lips before he could stop it.

 

“Kuchiki-san?”

 

It took him a moment to register that it was Unohana speaking to him. and Byakuya forced his eyes to open once more, looking directly into her worried expression. He vaguely recognized that he was no longer at home but in the fourth division before licking dried lips, his mouth parched.

 

“What...?” But the query ended on a cough as his dry mouth could not even form saliva to speak.

 

Immediately, his head was supported as Unohana pressed a small cup to his lips, helping him drink cool water that slid down his throat in blessed relief. He was grateful, drinking heartily until she pulled it away and let him fall back against the pillow. His head was beginning to clear, and he glanced around the room, recognizing the fourth division's second and third-seats but no one else. Especially not the stone-faced man standing near the doorway, stiff and formal.

 

“How are you feeling?” Unohana asked.

 

Byakuya worked his tongue for a moment, letting it absorb moisture before speaking. “I am alive… for whatever it is worth.”

 

Relief spread across her features. “Are you up to conversation? Chamber 46 is interested in your recounting of the events.”

 

That explained the stranger.

 

“If it is necessary for right this moment, then I can spare a few minutes.”

 

She sighed faintly. “I should have known. Do not stress yourself, Kuchiki-san. I will come back later to discuss your... situation.” It was perhaps the most delicately she could put it. She didn't miss his wince, however. And he didn't miss the lack of reference to his title. He was a captain no longer.

 

Byakuya merely inclined his head, dragging his noble pride from somewhere and donning it upon his face. He would need all the strength he could gather. The hollowness he felt inside was something no healer could mend. He felt the loss of Senbonzakura as a rift in his heart, a deep emptiness that would never be filled again.

 

Unohana's eyes watched him searchingly before she turned away. The woman gestured for Isane and Iemura to leave ahead of her before turning her attention to the representative.

 

“He is still my patient,” the captain stated firmly. “Do not upset him.”

 

He nodded sharply. “Yes, Unohana-taichou. I promise.” There was a hint of fear in his voice. He would not be disobeying.

 

Seemingly satisfied, the lady took her leave of the room. “I will return in twenty minutes,” she said on her way out of the room. “Finish before then.”

 

The door shut quietly behind her. Byakuya turned his attention to the representative.

 

“Ask your questions,” he ordered.

 

The man nodded. “Very well. I am Satou Makoto, and I have been asked to take your statement, Kuchiki-sama.”

 

Byakuya bit back his sigh. “I am in no mood to completely relate the tale, Satou-san. Ask what you came here to ask and leave it at that.”

 

“If you insist.” He moved to the table in the room, pulling out paper, ink, and brush to write with. “Firstly, when did you first encounter the intruders?”

 

“I returned home because I had forgotten an item. They were waiting in my dining room.”

 

The man cocked his head to the side. “Doing what?”

 

“As near as I can tell, eating onigiri,” Byakuya answered, completely blank-faced and ignoring the man's stunned blinking. “I was knocked unconscious, and by the time I awoke, they had already severed my sokatsui.”

 

Satou hummed as he scribbled down the information. “For the record, would you please state whom the perpetrators were?”

 

“Ichimaru Gin, Kira Izuru, and Kurosaki Ichigo.” He paused, thinking back. The two former heads of the third division had mostly been observers. It was as if Kurosaki had orchestrated that entire encounter, though he couldn't be certain.

 

“I see.” Satou frowned faintly. “Do you have any idea why you were otherwise unharmed? Considering their behavior towards the tenth division captain--”

 

“His name,” Byakuya corrected firmly, angered by the man's callous reference, “was Hitsugaya Toushirou. And I can only assume what I know, considering what Kurosaki told me.”

 

The representative dipped his head. “My apologies for the offense. If you would please, what did the boy say?”

 

Byakuya's gaze flickered towards the window, afternoon light greeting his eyes. “That I was not his enemy and he did not want to see me dead.”

 

“Did he happen to mention who he did consider his enemy?”

 

“Soul Society,” the Kuchiki heir answered dully, trying to ignore the painful clench in his heart. “Just like Aizen, he wants to bring Seireitei down.”

 

Satou could only stare in blank wonder as his words reverberated throughout the room, sounding all too final to be believed.

 

*****

 

“--swear I saw them!”

 

“My division lies in ruins--”

 

“And how drunk were you, fool?”

 

“--research is in shambles! It's going to take years--”

 

“And they were kissing! Lip-locking right there where--”

 

“How is this possible?”

 

“--short on hands and supplies now that--”

 

“Enough!” Yamamoto's harsh demand vibrated through the air, instantly cutting through the gathered noise and bustle of his captains and their reaction to recent events.

 

Silence fell quickly like a heavy blanket, and many pairs of eyes turned towards the head of the Gotei 13, expecting explanations. The old man looked tired and worn, a distinct pinch of stress to his forehead. Yet, he remained solid and strong as he swept his gaze over the gathered captains, numbers diminished once more.

 

For the first time since Aizen had declared his treachery, a trace of worry entered the soutaichou's being. For a moment, he doubted that Soul Society would have the strength to win this war. But then, he promptly shoved it down. The Shinigami would be victorious; he was going to be sure of that.

 

No matter what it took.

 

Yamamoto cleared his throat noisily and laid both hands on his staff, fingers overlapping. “As I am sure you are all aware,” he began, voice strong and even, “in the last twenty-four hours, Soul Society suffered an invasion.” He paused to let them digest that, a few having been somewhat unaware of the circumstances. “We have identified the intruders.”

 

Shunsui stirred, one hand touching the brim of his ever-present hat. “How many, Yama-jii?” he asked. Though he had seen a pair of the perpetrators himself, considering the damage, he expected to hear of an army.

 

But to hear Yamamoto say “two” was something the eighth division captain had not expected.

 

Soifon snorted. “I saw three,” she insisted. “Right after they destroyed the warehouses, but they were gone before I could catch them.”

 

The old man heaved a deep breath. “Initially, there were two, until they were joined by third division fukutaichou, Kira Izuru.”

 

A murmur swept through the room, many of them disturbed by this news. And yet, others were feeling smug, having long suspected the third division's vice-captain of being treacherous. They only wished they'd had sense to lock him up sooner.

 

Komamura stirred, an uncertain feeling in his gut. “And the others?” he asked, wondering if Tousen had returned.

 

“Former head of the third division, Ichimaru Gin. And the substitute Shinigami, Kurosaki Ichigo.”

 

Yamamoto's answer fell like leaden weights into the middle of the room, causing a ripple of muttered surprise and disbelief. Ichimaru's appearance was not unexpected but to hear that yet another ally had defected seemed unthinkable.

 

“Impossible.”

 

“Why would he do this?”

 

“What on Earth...?”

 

Almost instantly, conversation swelled again, several of the captain's shaking their heads in disbelief. Jyuushiro and Shunsui were not the only ones to be worried about Kurosaki's supposed involvement. It made little sense to all of them. The boy had fought so staunchly for them, had been angry at Aizen for what he had done to Kuchiki Rukia. Why would he switch sides?

 

The murmurs grew louder until Yamamoto was forced to quiet them. “Silence,” he demanded, accompanying it with a short burst of reiatsu. He didn't fail to notice Zaraki's sly smirk, however, and it concerned him.

 

Once silence fell, he turned his aged gaze on the fourth division captain. “Unohana-taichou, if you would please give a report on the injuries.”

 

She nodded and took a deep breath, her eyes betraying nothing. “There were few injuries among the lower-seats and unseated Shinigami, and those were all attributed to attempts to putting out the fires. None were attacked. However, our higher seats did not fare as well.” Unohana paused, hesitating over the rest.

 

None of the others were aware of Kuchiki's and Hitsugaya's condition other than Zaraki, so her hesitation was understandable. Nevertheless, it was important and Yamamoto urged her to continue.

 

“Kuchiki-taichou's condition please,” he prompted.

 

Folding her hands in front of her, Unohana did her best to maintain her composure, swallowing thickly. “He suffered a blow to the back of the head that was easily mended and caused no permanent damage. However, he has had his sokatsui severed.”

 

A multitude of gasps resounded through the room.

 

“We are down yet another taichou then,” Ukitake murmured, his heart filling with sympathy for his former kouhai. It must be a serious blow to Byakuya's pride, and he promised himself he would go to visit him afterwards, provided the man would be accepting visitors.

 

“That is not all,” Yamamoto reminded his captains. His gaze flickered back to Unohana. “Continue.”

 

Her eyes filled with sadness, but she spoke, nonetheless. “The tenth division suffered a terrible loss. Matsumoto-fukutaichou is under heavy sedation. Hitsugaya-taichou has been murdered.” The healer paused, her face filling with a righteous anger. “Murder is too light a term. He was tortured before he was killed. As best as we can tell by suffocation.”

 

“His injuries,” Komamura prompted quietly, feeling his hands curl into fists and claws threatening to puncture his own palms. “How exactly was he tortured?”

 

The healer in Unohana felt sick at just the memory of it, recalling how the small captain's body had been brought to her, beaten and battered. “His right hand was smashed beyond repair. There were two stab wounds, one in each shoulder, and he suffered from electrical burns. It appears that he was crushed to death, but we've been unable to determine how.”

 

“Tell 'em about the fuckin' message,” Zaraki Kenpachi inserted with a lazy drawl, speaking for the first time.

 

Yamamoto's face filled with anger, and he glowered at the man. “Zaraki-taichou,” he warned, reiatsu simmering around him in an annoyed halo. He had already explicitly stated that they wouldn't be discussing that particular piece of information.

 

Zaraki shook off the warning as if it were a pesky insect. “If you don't, I will,” he said gruffly. “Unless it's some secret.”

 

Yamamoto rose from his seat, fingers clenching around his zanpakutou. “That is unnecessary information. You will not speak of it. That is an order.”

 

“Che.” Zaraki stuck a finger in his ear, idly cleaning it out and rolling his eyes away from the captain-commander. “What're ya gonna do? Lock me up? Lose another taichou?”

 

He shifted his gaze back towards Yamamoto, and their eyes locked, a battle of wills crashing between them. Zaraki remained stolid, however, refusing to let the information simply fade away. It had struck him as odd then, and he wasn't going to let it go. There was something the old geezer was hiding from all of them. He was sure of it.

 

Tension sparked through the room until Shunsui broke it, brow furrowing in interest. “What was the message?” he asked, his own curiosity spiking.

 

One dark eye flickered to him. “Traitor,” Zaraki answered simply.

 

“That doesn't make any sense,” Soifon inserted, crossing her arms over her chest.

 

Zaraki grunted with a shrug. “Makes more than the rest of it.”

 

Realizing that he had been thwarted, Yamamoto returned to his seat, anger still simmering beneath the surface. This was rapidly spiraling out of his control.

 

“What was the rest of it?” Shunsui demanded.

 

His lip curled, revealing one fanged tooth. “Orihime-chan sends her love,” the eleventh division captain answered simply.

 

Murmurs of confusion rippled through the room. No one could make any sense of it either. What did one message have to do with the other?

 

Zaraki tapped his chin. “If ya ask me,” he inserted, shifting position. “Seems the pipsqueak's did something to hurt her. Probably under orders.”

 

He didn't look at Yamamoto, didn't have to. The implication was enough.

 

“Is this true, Yamamoto-sensei?” Ukitake asked quietly, something uncertain niggling inside of him. “Is that why Ichigo-kun and the others have gone missing?”

 

“That's not the issue right now,” the captain-commander stated gruffly, trying to lead the conversation to something he felt would be more productive. “We must discuss the dam--”

 

He was interrupted by the last person anyone would have expected to do so. “Are we in the business of murdering children now?” Komamura demanded, indignation and outrage evident in his voice.

 

“Damn, I didn't sign up for this shit,” Zaraki added with a snort. “It's different if they can fight back, but that big-chested girl ain't but a kid. A damn ditzy one at that. S'not `xactly the traitor type.”

 

The old man was rapidly losing control. “She couldn't be trusted,” he explained, knowing none of them could even begin to understand his reasoning. It was too complicated, too steeped in politics and dangers and fears for the future.

 

“Fuck, yer the one we can't trust,” Zaraki cursed. “Who ya gonna turn on next? Me? Them? Your own damn lieutenant? When should I expect a zanpakutou in my back? In my daughter's?”

 

That was the last straw.

 

Yamamoto's staff rapped violently against the floor, even as his reiatsu swept through the room in an irritated yet carefully controlled wave. “Zaraki-taichou, you are out of line,” he declared, voice booming around the room. “Cease. This. Instant.”

 

Silence rapidly descended.

 

“There are more important matters at hand,” the old man went on.

 

Zaraki didn't flinch at the addition of reiatsu, even as it lashed at his skin. He did quiet, however, knowing that there was no more point in arguing. He had already laid the seed. It was up to the other slow bastards to catch on themselves. Something was rotten in the government of Soul Society, and soon, they would all know.

 

He returned to his place in line without an apology, crossing his arms over his chest. His eye found the high ceiling with pure nonchalance. Let the old man dig his own grave. He had already noticed with a single glance that many were considering his words. Particularly Kyouraku and Ukitake, both looking thoughtful.

 

The silence that attacked the room was heavy and tense, until Unohana quietly coughed.

 

“I would also like to report something else.”

 

The captain-commander gestured towards her faintly, squaring his shoulders. “Yes?”

 

She sighed. “My seventh-seat, Yamada Hanatarou, has been missing for some time now.” The healer glanced at the gathered captains, all seven of them. “If anyone has any knowledge of this, I would appreciate it.”

 

Zaraki snorted. “Brat prolly ran off with Ichigo,” he muttered under his breath.

 

No one paid him any attention.

 

Soifon frowned. “Why did it take you so long to report it?”

 

“The matter was intradivisional,” Unohana answered calmly. “Until the recent events, I had not felt that I needed to bring the disappearance to the entire Gotei 13's attention.”

 

“That is all well and good,” Mayuri inserted with a faint twitch. “But I require the attention. Have you forgotten the damage to my division?” he demanded, the end of his voice rising in faint pitch.

 

A collective sigh barely whispered through the room. He remained unruffled by their obvious annoyance, drawing up straight in anger.

 

“Everyone seems to delight in ignoring what they have done to the research department,” Kurotsuchi added. “But need I remind you of what our prior plans had been?”

 

“The cannon?” Ukitake asked with some surprise. “They were targeting the cannon?”

 

Mayuri scowled angrily, lips twisting into a dangerous sneer. “Along with half of my storage warehouses. It was a miracle that they somehow missed the one housing the gate to Hueco Mundo.”

 

“But how did they know?” Shunsui pressed.

 

“Isn't it obvious?” Soifon inserted with a faint gesture. “Kira must have told them.”

 

Zaraki sniffed. “That wimpy-eyed brat wouldna had the chance with all ya'll starin' him down like ya've been.”

 

Mayuri waved their accusations off. “There was a spy in the division. They have been caught and interrogated. Unfortunately, they are unwilling to speak, and my methods are thorough.” There was a collective shudder at this. “I suspect Urahara's involvement.”

 

More murmurs filled the room. It appeared that they were losing allies left and right, severely limiting their fighting power.

 

“He did disappear,” Kurotsuchi commented aloud, as if to remind them. “I make certain to keep what tabs I can on my predecessor, and he disappeared without a trace not long ago. Not even his supposed candy shop remains.”

 

“We should have expected that much,” Unohana mused aloud with a sigh, remembering well the circumstances of a hundred years ago and Urahara's abrupt disappearance even then.

 

Yamamoto gathered himself. “This is very troubling,” he rumbled, overriding their comments and drawing their attention towards himself. “Not only has Aizen gained more comrades, but our only means of counterattack has been destroyed.”

 

Zaraki snorted again and promptly tuned out whatever nonsense Yamamoto thought he was going to spew. Hell, even he knew it was over. Kurosaki was on the other side. It was only a matter of time before Aizen claimed his victory. And Kenpachi would be damn proud to say “I told you so” in the end.

 

He was only waiting for the hammer to fall.

 

*****