Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Of Violence ❯ Disclosures ( Chapter 10 )

Of Violence

Chapter Nine: Disclosures

 

Ukitake Jyuushiro was not a man who easily abandoned those he considered dear to him. Given any circumstance, he considered himself rational enough to look at a situation from both sides of the issue. He discarded no one important to him, no matter their deed.

 

Rukia was no exception.

 

He still cared for her, despite the truth that had emerged. Anger had been his initial reaction, as well a hefty dose of confusion. It had been so hard to believe. For a couple like the Kurosaki's who had only ever seemed perfectly in love. He hadn't wanted to accept it.

 

But the truth had emerged into the light of day, and now, there was no use in pretending ignorance. He had already discovered that she had moved out of her home and was now staying in the vice-captain's quarters. Her children had been given some excuse as to her absence. Even more telling was that Ichigo had taken an extended vacation.

 

Without his wife.

 

There was little more confirmation Jyuushiro needed. Still, he wasn't going to abandon Rukia. He wanted to believe that there was more to the story than the rest of the populace was privy to. He certainly didn't condone her actions, but he couldn't just forsake her.

 

Disappointment had replaced most of his feelings.

 

It was for that reason that he had called her to his office, wanting to sort out the mess that had caused all of Seireitei to react. Shunsui had been purposely uninvited, his dear friend still infuriated by the truth.

 

Strangely enough, Shunsui was closer to Ichigo than to Rukia, and he was angry on the younger man's behalf since the fifth division captain couldn't seem to be that himself. Jyuushiro supposed that closeness had developed due to the fact he, Ichigo, and Kenpachi were frequent drinking buddies. Or at least, they had been before the birth of the twins and Rukia's subsequent increasing workload.

 

Shunsui's behavior was only a small sample of the effect this issue had had on Seireitei. Jyuushiro's own division was no less stirred. The lower seats and unseated Shinigami watched her, whispering and giving her strange looks. They still obeyed, some even more than they used to. As if afraid of violence on their person. But it was clear that they were aware of the rumors.

 

Kiyone and Sentarou avoided her, unable to meet her eyes whenever they were forced into the same room. Jyuushiro knew that his vice-captain, very dear to his heart, must feel ostracized. She certainly wasn't acting like someone proud of her deeds.

 

Rukia answered his summons promptly, stepping quietly into his office and sitting before him without speaking a word. She knelt on the other side of his desk, her hands folded in her lap, clasped tightly together. Her eyes were shunted off to the side.

 

It took him only seconds to register how very fatigued she seemed. Her shihakushou was clean and pressed, lacking all wrinkles, and she didn't appear unwashed. But she was tired, her usually youthful face looking as if she had aged ten human years in the past week or so. Dark circles lined once vibrant eyes, the happy sparkle having all but vanished.

 

It was obvious that she hadn't been getting near enough sleep. And he knew for certain she was doing even more work than before. He imagined that the amount of stress she was under at this moment was more than she had faced in the past thirty years put together.

 

He had asked her to come in here, but he was the one lacking the proper words to speak. He knew that he should begin the conversation but proper decorum failed him.

 

A painful look crossed over her face. “Ukitake-taichou, I...” she trailed off, hesitating greatly as she struggled to find something to say. “I... don't know what to tell you. I can't explain myself.”

With the ice broken, shattered by her voice, Jyuushiro felt his own reaction pouring out of him before he could stop it.

 

“Do you even know why?” he pressed, the question spilling from his mouth more impolitely than he intended. He didn't want Rukia to feel as if she were being interrogated. “Why would you do this?”

 

“I don't know.” She chewed her lip, misery sweeping from her in waves and so very evident in her leaking reiatsu. “And I know that's not what you want to hear. I should have a reason. But...”

 

Jyuushiro bit back a sigh, waiting patiently as frustration flitted briefly across her face. A frustration likely borne from the inability to speak as clearly as she needed to.

 

“I love Ichigo. I really do. But sometimes… it's like I can't stop myself,” Rukia admitted, though the declaration didn't seem to make her feel any better.

 

The captain blinked. “Can't stop yourself?” he repeated, unable to keep the scorn from his tone.

 

It was the furthest thing from an excuse he had heard, not that he particularly wanted to hear any reasons. There was nothing that would make her behavior excusable. But he still needed to understand.

 

At the very least, he was somewhat relieved. He had only ever had to deal with this issue twice before in his entire time as captain. Both occasions had been of a husband beating his wife, and both times, the men had been remorseful they were caught. Neither had cared about the fact they abused their spouses, declaring that their wives had deserved it for some stupid reason or another.

 

Rukia displayed none of the same behavior, regret and guilt so evident in her face and reiatsu. It was clear that she wasn't proud of her deeds, and not because she had been discovered. But because of the pain it had put her husband through.

 

Nodding, Rukia's fingers twisted together. Jyuushiro could clearly see that her hands were white-knuckled. As if it took every effort for her to simply be there, talking about what no one had given her the time to explain.

 

“It was like this poison inside of me. I would get angry, and the next thing I knew...” she trailed off, dark blue eyes taking on a pained sheen. “I wanted to stop. I didn't like hurting him.”

 

“Then, you should have told someone,” Jyuushiro gritted out, trying and failing to clamp down on the roil of emotions inside of him. It was impossible for him to be objective, he was simply too close to the issue. “Asked for help.”

 

Rukia chewed on her lip again. “That was why,” she responded miserably. “I thought that if I distanced myself, put some space between us, then I might be able to stop.”

 

“That's not a solution,” he countered. “And all you succeeded in doing was hurting him more.”

 

“It was the only thing I knew how to do!” she blurted out, almost desperately. Her eyes were beseeching, begging that her captain just listen and realize. She didn't want approval; she just wanted him to know, to understand.

 

Misery poured into her reiatsu, which she was quickly losing her control over, washing through the room. “I couldn't see myself telling someone that sort of thing. Help me stop hurting him! I didn't want anyone to know. For his sake, not mine.” Rukia shook her head. “He never fought back. Never. And I honestly don't know if I really wanted him to.”

 

“He was the closest target,” Jyuushiro inserted softly, a tiny portion of her stilted confession making an odd sort of sense. Even though he didn't want it to.

 

“Maybe. I don't know.” She clasped her hands together, obviously attempting to stop their frantic clutching. “This is all my fault. And now… now…”

 

“Now, he's the one bearing the brunt of it,” Jyuushiro finished for her, sensing the direction she had planned on taking with her admission.

 

Rukia nodded. “I had hoped that it would never come to this. That I could fix whatever was wrong in me before something like this happened. Or if I couldn't then… then, I would leave.”

 

Silence swept through the room as she looked back down at the polished wood of the floor. It seemed safer than having to meet her captain's eyes. He felt the shame that joined her sorrow, the conversation making it seem as if she had suddenly aged further.

 

Jyuushiro knew that if they could see her now, those that whispered and muttered and made assumptions, perhaps they wouldn't be as quick to point a finger. Maybe they would find reason to close their mouths and let a couple being torn apart solve their own ills.

 

She looked absolutely wretched, obviously berating herself at every waking moment for her behavior. Rukia looked as if she hated herself for Ichigo's pain. And perhaps she did. It was clear in every movement, every pained wince, that she still loved her husband. Her children. She didn't want to lose them.

 

But she also seemed resigned to the fact that there was little choice.

 

He wished he had something to say, something brilliant that would fix everything. But the words had failed him, just as they had been lately. He didn't have the answers. Rukia was his vice-captain, a person very dear to him. And yet, somehow, it had come to this.

 

Hadn't these children suffered enough?

 

“I said some things,” Rukia began hesitantly, when it was clear he could not seem speak. “About Byakuya. I know he doesn't know what I'm talking about, but I'm not blind. And those two…” She hesitated, lifting her gaze to his. “They're such idiots.”

 

“They have been for a long time now,” Jyuushiro commented, knowing exactly what she meant. There was no need to pretend that he didn't. Not with things being the way they were.

 

Rukia's eyes dropped back town, her fingers beginning to wring together again until they were nearly white and bloodless. “It's so weird. He's my brother, and they don't even realize what they're doing. Wouldn't do it willingly.”

 

“No, I don't imagine so. Ichigo loves you. And Byakuya, in his own way, does as well.”

 

She inclined her head with a sigh. “I can't hate nii-sama because of everything he's done for me. And I could never hate Ichigo. But sometimes… sometimes, I resent Byakuya.”

 

Jyuushiro ached for her in that moment, comprehension trickling inwards. “I imagine you would,” he replied gently, feeling that he might be fathoming the situation more clearly than before.

 

“But that's not a reason,” she said almost fiercely. “There's no excuse. And that's not one. It doesn't matter how I felt, even if it did seem I was an outsider in my own marriage. That's not an excuse.”

 

His gaze met hers, relieved to find nothing but remorse in hers. “You're right. It's not.” Jyuushiro shifted in his seat, wishing he had something better to offer. “There is no excuse, but perhaps with understanding might come… fixing, as you so elegantly put it.”

 

“Understanding,” she repeated, the word falling from her lips as if she had already considered that point and tossed it aside. “Understanding… and maybe the power to go back in time.”

 

Jyuushiro tilted his head to the side, surprised by this admission. “To prevent this from ever happening?”

 

She sucked on her lip, shoulders bowing as if being pressed down by a great pressure. “I love my children, Ukitake-taichou. They are my heart, and I wouldn't trade them for anything. But sometimes, I wonder.” She fell silent.

 

Jyuushiro furrowed his brow, uncertain what direction she was planning to take. “Rukia?”

 

His vice-captain sucked in a deep breath, her words coming out slowly and with great reluctance. “Sometimes, I regret marrying Ichigo.”

 

Jyuushiro blinked. He certainly hadn't been expecting her to say that. Fortunately, she continued before he could even prompt her to.

 

“You've seen it. Everyone has. How are they together. They've loved each other longer than the both of them even realize.” Her eyes dimmed with a different sort of sadness. “I wish that I had said no. That I had just shoved them together and forced them to acknowledge their feelings.”

 

He supposed that they had always known about the strange relationship among husband, wife, and brother. And he should have realized that Rukia was aware of it as well. But for her to simply state that she had known all along was enough to completely baffle Jyuushiro.

 

He groped for something logical in his suddenly twisted and turned sideways world. “Do you think it would have worked?”

 

Rukia shook her head. “I don't know. But I wonder if he might have been happier that way.”

 

“You can't say that for sure.”

 

“No, I can't.” She paused, a mix of emotions entangling in her reiatsu as a breath of cool air swished through the room. Not quite the power of Hitsugaya's Hyourinmaru but still tangible. “But then, I see the way they look at each other. And… dammit, I love him, too! Was it so wrong to want to be selfish for once?”

 

Jyuushiro trained his eyes on his subordinate. “Perhaps it is selfishness that has you here now.”

 

“Maybe,” she conceded, untangling her hands and restlessly running her palms against the hakama of her folded legs. “But Byakuya already has everything, and I thought that maybe I could just have a piece of that, too.”

 

“And your children?”

 

Her eyes shimmered, but it was clear that she was making every effort to not lose control of her emotions. He imagined she probably felt very alone right now. Her friends had all but abandoned her, still uncertain of where their positions should be. Her brother had left with her husband for reasons neither male completely understood. And her captain was all but interrogating her. Even Kiyone and Sentarou, who had started to look up to her, were avoiding her as if she were Aizen incarnate.

 

“I want to say that they are the one thing I could never regret, but it would only be partially true. I wouldn't give them up now, but I never planned for the twins.” She a hint of frustration laced her tone. “We were supposed to wait until at least Kaien was older.”

 

With every passing breath, the situation was becoming clearer. It wasn't any more excusable, but Jyuushiro finally felt as if he were able to understand, at least in some small way. It made it easier for him remain her friend.

 

“Ichigo was happy when he found out, wasn't he?”

 

She exhaled, swiping at her face with the back of her hand. “He was thrilled. And I'm ashamed to say that he was far more pleased than I was.”

 

“There is nothing to be ashamed of,” Jyuushiro responded. “I know that you love Mikan and Ryuu, even if they weren't expected.” When her head gave at brief nod, he continued, “But they were a setback. Before you even had a chance to return to duty, you were taken off it again.”

 

She shifted position, as if remembering with some discomfort being pregnant for the third time. Only to discover the extra burden of two rather one children inside her.

 

“Ichigo would never have let me return to active duty if there was even the slightest chance I might be injured in battle,” Rukia said softly.

 

“I imagine not.”

 

Her lips twisted into an almost fond smile, as if vaguely recalling a faint but happy memory, until it was all but wiped away. “It was so frustrating. Which is not an excuse. but it all built up. And before I knew it, he was the one suffering. I don't know. Maybe I just wanted him to share my pain.”

 

Jyuushiro inclined his head, the press of emotions and regret in the room nearly suffocating. “What are you going to do now, Rukia?”

 

“I'm still trying to figure that out. I don't want to hurt him again.” Fingers ran very gently through her hair, like the involuntary motion were comforting. “I thought distance would be enough, but maybe we need more than that.”

 

“Like divorce?”

 

She swallowed thickly. “I don't want to lose him, but a part of me thinks that maybe I already have.”

 

Knock! Knock!

 

“Ukitake-taichou?”

 

Kiyone's voice, sounding hesitant and reserved for once, poured through the door.

 

He cleared his throat. “I said I was not to be disturbed, Kiyone.” His tone clearly expressed his displeasure, though it still kept the ring of being polite.

 

There was a pause.

 

“I know but Kurumadani-san has returned from patrol, and he won't stop babbling about a Vizard that he supposedly saw.”

 

“A Vizard?” Jyuushiro frowned, musing over this pressing information.

 

It was possible that Zennosuke had merely imagined everything. He was still somewhat sore about sharing his duties with Karin. But Jyuushiro wasn't entirely willing to shove the man's complaint aside.

 

“I have duties that I must attend anyway,” Rukia inserted, rising stiffly to her feet and brushing off her hakama, likely just giving her hands something to do.

 

Jyuushiro inclined his head. “Have him wait a moment, Kiyone,” he called out before turning to look at his subordinate. “You can talk to me, Rukia. I am still your captain. And your friend.”

 

A look of what could only be described as great relief washed over her, the stress in her shoulders easing by a bare fraction. “Thank you for listening, Ukitake-taichou,” she responded, a touch of thickness in her voice.

The bow that followed was so painfully formal that he felt his own heart clench. They had a long way to go if they ever expected their relationship to return to its prior comfort level.

 

He watched as Rukia turned to leave, sliding the door open. Silence greeted her, Kiyone's eyes carefully shuttered to the ground. Rukia pretended not to notice, though Jyuushiro could clearly see her shoulders stiffen and tighten with tension. Kiyone stepped aside, making room for her pass and Rukia did, disappearing towards her office most likely.

 

Jyuushiro directed his attention towards his third-seat. “Well, send him in.” He tried not to let his annoyance show through. Kiyone could not help her actions. She was as confused as the rest of the division, uncertain what to make of the situation.

 

Kiyone nodded jerkily and soon Zennosuke was bounding in, looking quite harried. And was that a leaf he saw in the man's large hair?

 

He had the feeling it was going to be an interesting conversation.

 

*****

 

Ichigo and Byakuya's vacation ended with the reality of a captain's meeting. They had enough time to drop the children off at Ichigo's house in the steady care of their nanny and retrieve their haori. Luckily, all four of the kids were much too worn out to really pay attention to their surroundings, quickly dropping off into naps.

 

The Kuchiki heir didn't fail to notice the subtle stiffening in Ichigo's stance, the wary way he glanced around them, practically waiting for the stares and the whispers to begin. The vacation had been good for him, pulling him several strides away from the edge. But it would take a long time before the rumors would even begin to die down.

 

They were the last to arrive to the meeting, stepping in just as the low dong echoed through Soul Society to signify the hour. Ichigo entered first, slightly hesitant in his movements. Byakuya didn't blame him.

 

Stepping in behind his companion, Byakuya first happened to lay his eyes on Zaraki Kenpachi. Completely by accident. The eleventh division captain grinned like a damned fool, his single visible eye flickering between Ichigo and Byakuya. The Kuchiki heir almost swore that the man's eyebrow was wiggling in a licentious manner.

 

He was reminded of every moment in the past week when the idiot's voice had cackled in his mind, constantly bringing up the single but defining statement in their unwanted conversation. Every time Ichigo had spoken to him, every time the other captain had smiled, Kenpachi's voice had echoed in Byakuya's mind. Taunting him. Mocking him with his denial.

 

He had lived for an entire week with Zaraki Kenpachi in his brain.

 

Anger tightened swiftly in Byakuya, though it wasn't noticeable behind his usual calm mask. He could still hear it.

 

`But he loves you more.'

 

Over and over, accompanied by Zaraki's laughter and smug smile.

 

And then, before he knew entirely what he was doing, Byakuya strode into the chambers and stood before the man in a manner of seconds. The other Shinigami barely had a second to blink before Byakuya's hand balled into a fist. And he struck Zaraki full in the face, rather satisfied with himself when he felt an echoing crunch.

 

Silence abruptly swept through the room as everyone turned to regard this spectacle with mixed horror, amusement, and confusion.

 

Zaraki's head snapped back as blood dripped from his nose, likely broken, but the smirk that stretched across his lips only widened. He looked down at Byakuya with that one eye, entirely knowing, and it only made the Kuchiki heir angrier.

 

His hand dropped to his side as he resisted the urge to strike the annoying bastard once more, suddenly well aware of their audience. It had been a complete impulse to punch Zaraki. Retribution for the headache he had been forced to suffer his entire vacation. Yet, the smug moron didn't seem the least bit concerned.

 

“Kuchiki-taichou! What is the meaning of this?” Yamamoto-soutaichou demanded as he rose to his feet, staff rapping on the floor in an attempt to gather everyone's attention.

 

“Oh, dear.” Isane-san was already muttering as she moved to Zaraki's side, reaching up to gently heal the shattered nose.

 

Zaraki merely grinned around the blood dripping from his nostrils. “Nothin', Yama-jii,” he responded, never taking his eye off Byakuya. “Just a disagreement between hime and me.” Healing tingles spread through his face, easing the damaged cartilage. “Hits pretty hard for such a prissy bastard.”

 

The man was treated to the full force of a Kuchiki glare as Byakuya whirled primly on his heels and strode to his usual place in line. His scarf swished around him in a dramatic fashion as he firmly ignored the odd stares of everyone around him.

 

Ichigo, however, gaze him a strange look where he stood just diagonally and across from Byakuya. He knew that Ichigo was probably wondering just what the hell that particular attack had been about, especially since it was so out of character. The Kuchiki heir had silently responded that he would explain later, and Ichigo seemed satisfied, though still dumbfounded.

 

Next to the sixth-division captain, Shunsui snorted. “Flirting,” he sing-songed under his breath, shooting his neighbor a pointed glance.

 

Byakuya stiffened, gifting the older man with the same glare he had already given Zaraki. However, Shunsui was entirely unflustered, returning with a wide grin and a slow wink that was not subtle in the slightest. Green eyes gleamed with knowledge. Byakuya firmly ignored him, sweeping his gaze over the other captains. Most were watching him, their eyes flickering between he and Ichigo. Renji and Kira-san especially gifted him with knowing looks, a slow and almost mocking smile curling on his former subordinate's lips.

 

Dear Kami, it was as if they had all been infected with Zaraki's stupidity. Were all the captains on the same wavelength, claiming to have this realization that Byakuya was stealthily eluding? Had they all decided the same nonsense that Zaraki had tried to drill into his brain?

 

The thought sent a startled jerk through him, along with a tint of mortification. A very, very small part of him was reluctantly beginning to wonder.

 

“If there are going to be no further disagreements, I will begin the meeting,” Yamamoto rumbled from his position at the head of the room. Aged eyes swept a warning amongst his gathered underlings.

 

The low murmur of conversation that had begun quieted, and they formed the proper lines. Ichigo still smirked, however, as Zaraki casually swiped his sleeve over the blood on his face, wiping it away. Shaking her head in disapproval, Isane stepped back into place.

The meeting began.

 

Ichigo was quick to tune out the old fart's blather. He had learned long ago that most of what Yamamoto said was unnecessary and unimportant. He had somehow managed to develop a skill of filtering out the necessities, picking up what he really needed to learn. He suspected that the old geezer was getting senile. Though honestly, he had lost none of his interrogating skills.

 

Instead, Ichigo found his gaze wandering to the gathered captains, a nostalgia creeping over him. He was reminded of the war as he found positions that had changed and those that hadn't.

 

Soifon was stone-faced as usual, a quiet sniff the only evident sign of her disapproval for Byakuya's actions. She had emerged mostly unscathed from the war, retaining her surly personality and arrogance. While she had lost her vice-captain early on, she was adapting well to the replacement. Ichigo suspected that if she had lost Yoruichi, a larger change would have been evident. He doubted there was anything Soifon cared for other than her duty and the Shihouin heir.

 

Next to her, Isane stood where Unohana had once been, having taken over the fourth after her mentor's death. During the war, she had shown an astounding capacity for holding together under pressure. And later, she had selected Hanatarou as her second, completely bypassing Iemura, something no one had questioned. Not even the third-seat himself. He seemed perfectly content with the decision.

 

On the other side of Byakuya, Shunsui looked as if he were falling asleep on his feet, which was nothing unusual. He never paid any attention to the old man, unless he was suddenly called upon for comment. Then, he would spring awake like he had never been sleeping at all, a quick retort easily passing through his lips. And he always seemed knowledgeable about the current topic.

 

Toushirou silently mocked Yamamoto where he stood, hands folded over his chest and rolling his eyes occasionally. He got away with it simply because Shunsui's bulk hid him from the old man's view. Like Ichigo, he had no patience for the often drawn out and pointless meetings.

 

Hitsugaya's tenth had mostly emerged unscathed from the war with only a few of his unseated officers lost. But while his division had held together, Toushirou's childhood companion had not. Hinamori had flown into a fit of rage and insanity after hearing of her former captain's death. To this day, she still maintained the belief that he had been led astray by Ichimaru, and she could still not see how much her delusions upset her childhood friend. If it hadn't been for Karin, Ichigo wasn't certain Toushirou would have ever been pulled from his melancholic funk.

 

Next to Hitsugaya, Akon was the only one avidly listening to Yamamoto. Ichigo couldn't figure out why. Perhaps he feared meeting Kurotsuchi's fate and had resolved not to be the least liked member of the Gotei 13. He still had not chosen a vice-captain, which Ichigo couldn't really fault him for.

 

On Ichigo's right, Izuru shot him odd looks from the corner of his eyes. During the war, the blond had proven his mettle, standing straight and strong. He had blazed onto the battlefield, determination alit on his face, and an astounding bankai at his back. Apparently, when everyone thought he had been moping and feeling sorry for himself, he had been training with a fury that rivaled Renji's own.

 

Afterwards, he had been awarded leadership over the third division, which he accepted with much humility. And during that time, he had discovered an even greater gift, the relationship he now shared with Jyuushiro. Ichigo wasn't entirely sure how that had come about, but it was clear that the both of them were much happier and clearly the better for it.

 

On Ichigo's other side, Renji fiddled with his haori and made no effort to show that he was listening. Meetings bored him as much as they did Ichigo himself, but that didn't stop the redhead from shooting his former captain strange looks. Some of these were transferred onto Ichigo as well. The Vizard could only assume that it was due to the rumors that had been spreading through Seireitei like a wildfire before his vacation.

 

He hadn't spoken to Renji since the morning the redhead had invited himself over. Admittedly, he had left the very next day and there hadn't been a chance. That was a confrontation just waiting in the wings. Ichigo was still rather sore with his friend, angered that Renji would even make such a suggestion. He knew that the other man was probably just confused and wanting to understand, but that was no excuse for him having as little tact as Ikkaku.

 

On the other side of Renji, the new head of the ninth seemed bored, still not used to having to attend organized meetings and absolutely hating her paperwork. Yadoumaru Lisa was one of the few surviving Vizard, the only one to return. She had promptly taken command of the ninth, much to Shuuhei's dismay. It seemed that she constantly asked him for a demonstration of the skills he so proudly displayed on his face. That was, when she wasn't following Jyuushiro and Izuru around, hoping to get a live glimpse of the stuff she read in the manga she brought in from the living world.

 

Ichigo pitied Shuuhei, he really did. The vice-captain was proving remarkably resilient, however. And the ninth division was finally beginning to flourish.

 

Kenpachi, meanwhile, boredly looked around the room, idly scratching himself. He never listened to Yamamoto either, though he was still faintly grinning. It was as if his nose being broken by Byakuya was an everyday occurrence; Ichigo still wanted to know what that was about.

 

And lastly, Jyuushiro put on a rather good masquerade of pretending to listen to the captain-commander. In reality, he was probably imagining any number of things, possibly planning the arrangement of his office.

 

“A more pressing manner has been called to my attention.”

Yamamoto's drone pierced Ichigo's inner musings, and he stirred. He registered that this seemed important and straightened, paying attention as the old man continued. He noticed that several others were doing the same.

 

“Several divisions have recently reported sightings of abnormal Hollows, including what appears to be various Adjuchas class.”

 

“Arrancar?” Hitsugaya asked, no longer mocking. His aquamarine eyes had sharpened in his interest.

 

The captain-commander shook his head, the look in his eyes grave. “None that we know of,” he rumbled. “But that does not discount the possibility.”

 

Izuru stirred. “Is it related to Aizen?” he asked the question that was probably first and foremost on all the gathered captains' minds.

 

At the sound of his former nemesis, Ichigo straightened, the war suddenly fresh in his thoughts. He recalled the manner of creatures Aizen had thrown at them, the twisted and gnarled forms, no longer resembling the pale, vaguely animalized Hollows he had constantly faced before. Their skills had been as strange as they were deadly, poisons and acids and barbed projectiles.

 

A good many Shinigami had fallen to surprise attacks, Hollows that could mask their reiatsu and appear from nowhere. Hollows that could cut through space, stepping out of obscurity. The thought of facing these again, that there were more out there, was subduing. And Yamamoto knew it.

 

“Most likely,” he responded in a tight voice. “I've sent someone to speak with Ichimaru on the matter to see if he has any idea what may have caused this.”

 

Shunsui stirred, pushing his hat up. “What did he say, Yama-jii?”

 

Fingers tightened briefly around the curve of his staff. “Ichimaru claimed that he vaguely recalls plans for another base in Hueco Mundo, but he isn't certain that it was a clear memory. Or even if Aizen had even completed it. The location was something not even he was privy to.”

 

“Not to mention Aizen coulda just been testin' his loyalty,” Kenpachi inserted logically. “With that fucked up bankai of his. Especially if he saw it after he was already startin' ta switch sides.”

 

The old man inclined his head. “That is certainly a possibility. Regardless, we can't ignore their presence. They are rather organized. I suspect that a Vasto Lorde may be leading them. I am asking for a volunteer division to take increased patrols.”

 

All of the captains shifted uneasily at the mention of a Vasto Lorde, especially Ichigo. He remembered all too well fighting one of his own, very nearly losing his life. It had been a trial, far more than he had anticipated, thinking that the Espada would be more powerful. But the damn thing had been strong, far stronger than Grimmjow though not Ulquiorra.

 

Jyuushiro stepped out of the line and into Yamamoto's sight. “The thirteenth is ready, Genryuusai-sensei. We have completed reshuffling our positions. As the other divisions finish, they can begin to assist us.”

 

The captain-commander nodded his acceptance. “Very well.” He swept his gaze around. “Is there anything else to add?”

 

When no one spoke, Yamamoto launched into the next topic on his agenda. It had something to do with the current influx of Academy students and how they might be properly integrated into the divisions. None of it concerned Ichigo since that was mostly the first and the seventh division's problem, and he tuned Yamamoto out.

 

His mind churned over the news of the Hollows, chewing on the startling and worrisome information. He wondered if this had been Aizen's plan, if he should ever fall, to release a stockpile of his brutal minions to wreak havoc on a victorious Soul Society. He wouldn't put it past the conniving man. Aizen, though it pained him to admit, was far from stupid and damn near a genius.

 

The Vasto Lorde were powerful, their defeat something no simple Shinigami could accomplish. There were perhaps a handful of them, most in the meeting with him, who were capable of doing so.

 

He could recall clearly their power.

 

Two had been protecting Aizen when he, Byakuya, and Shinji had stormed into the deepest portions of Las Noches. Having finally found the traitor, they weren't willing to let their prey escape. The war had dragged on for too long. Too many lives had been lost. Which meant they would have to split up. Aizen was cornered but wouldn't stay that way for long.

 

Shinji had taken them both on by himself, urging Ichigo and Byakuya on ahead of him. Ichigo hadn't been able to witness the fight, but he knew that Shinji had fallen, managing to take the last Vasto Lorde with him.

 

Ichigo remembered that damn fool with some fondness. Shinji had known he was going to die, and a part of him simply didn't care. So many of his siblings had already fallen in a war he should have cared nothing about. Like Hiyori. The spunky blonde had been defeated by the third Espada, who had then been subsequently ripped apart by Urahara. Ichigo didn't think he had ever seen the geta-boushi with such an expression, a mixture of absolute fury and a total sorrow that ached through his entire existence.

 

The entire war had been fought as Urahara and Aizen pitting their soldiers one against the other, playing out their tactics and watching as they succeeded or failed. Yet, the final battle had been Ichigo and Byakuya against the man who wanted to be king. Urahara had taken no part in that last conflict. Ichigo strongly suspected that the man would have been incapable of lifting a zanpakutou directly against the man he loved.

 

“And lastly on our agenda today, there's been a reported sight of an unknown Vizard in Karakura town.”

 

Both Lisa and Ichigo straightened at that, though for different reasons. The latter had a memory tickling at the edges of his mind, causing his lips to quirk entirely without his permission.

 

Then, that aged gaze swung his way. “Do you have any knowledge of this, Kurosaki-taichou?”

 

Ichigo froze.

 

Across the room, Byakuya snorted before he could stop himself.

 

“Do you have something to say, Kuchiki-taichou?” Yamamoto demanded, swinging his attention to his other side.

 

“I assure you, soutaichou. The problem has been officially dealt with,” Byakuya responded as stone-faced as ever, his mask carefully shielding the amusement sifting beneath the surface.

 

The captain-commander did not seem convinced. “I trust there will be no repeats of this incident?” he asked, clearly showing that he knew more than he was letting on.

 

Crafty old bastard.

 

Ichigo coughed into his hand, pretending nonchalance. “No, sir. None at all.”

 

Yamamoto's eyes were appraising, but apparently, he didn't think it worth his time to discuss the matter further. “Very well. Ukitake-taichou, meet with me to discuss the patrol schedule. The rest of you, dismissed.”

 

All too relieved to be away from the meeting, there was something as close to a stampede that a near dozen of refined captains could perform as they left the first division chambers. Ichigo was in the midst of contemplating a nap and returning home to get his children settled. Yumichika could wait another twelve hours for him to return in the morning. He also had plans to corner Byakuya and question him about the Kenpachi incident.

 

However, he was stopped part of the way towards his own division by Shunsui, the man executing one of his lazy smirks.

 

“What was that about?” he asked, drawing up beside his younger friend.

 

Ichigo knew in a moment what he was referring to. “I was making sure Zennosuke was being vigilant.”

 

Two brows lifted. “By attacking him and beating him up?”

 

Indignation roused heartily inside of Ichigo. “He got those injuries falling off a roof. I didn't touch him,” he retorted, but inwardly, he was amused.

 

Shunsui seemed to be as well, smirking. “The way he described it, he damn near fought Aizen incarnate.”

 

“I said `boo,'” Ichigo countered, rolling his eyes.

 

“I thought so.” The older captain chuckled.

 

Ichigo merely looked at him, finally remembering. “So... Kaien's been telling me about hugs of love.”

 

Shunsui nearly choked on his laughter, eyes widening. He suddenly looked up and all around them, as if searching for an exit.

 

“Hmm. It's getting late. Look at the time. And Nanao-chan is calling me. I must be going off.”

 

He shot off, hurrying faster than a man of his size seemed capable. His escape was thwarted though as Ichigo very calmly placed one foot on a flapping pink haori, trapping it. Shunsui ground to a halt and jerked backwards, casting a nervous look over his shoulder.

 

In a very polite, chilly voice that he could have borrowed from Byakuya, Ichigo said, “I'm sure Ise-fukutaichou won't mind the delay. Now, where were we?” Brown eyes flashed with just the barest hint of gold.

 

Shunsui was quick to learn a very valuable lesson.

 

Never anger a father. Especially one who had discovered his Hollow side.

 

*****