Winter War: Hinamori, Takano, Ichimaru: Taking The Bait
Title: Hinamori, Takano, Ichimaru: Taking The Bait
Arc: Winter War - an AU co-write with liralen and sophiap
Characters: Hinamori, Takano ("Newbie"), Ichimaru
Rating/Warning: PG-13 for language, references to character death
Summary: In which the plan goes into action.
Notes: This is a rather dark AU co-plotted with liralen and sophiap. The war against Aizen's forces went very badly. Nothing is sacred and no one is safe.
Index of Links
[...]
11. Soi Fong: En Garde
12. Gin: On Top
13. Karakura: Waiting
14. Iba: Hurry Up And Wait
15. Isane: Present
16. Nanao: Looking For A Blonde
17. Hanatarou: Underground
18. Lisa: Prisoner's Dilemma
(Note: this section was written by all three of the writers together. While readers do not get any cookies for correct guesses, feel free to guess who wrote which bit anyhow.)
WINTER WAR: HINAMORI, TAKANO, ICHIMARU: TAKING THE BAIT
Earlier that day, Momo told Iba that the whole plan to lure Ichimaru out of Seireitei by dressing Shirogane Mihane up as Rangiku was starting to strike her as a little... well, silly. That is, it would have been silly except for... well, except for the whole part where it wasn't really funny at all.
Iba agreed, and then went on to say with a wistful laugh that it kind of reminded him of some of the crazier schemes the Women's Association had come up with over the years.
It was kind of sweet, afterwards, the way he stumbled through an apology and said he was just trying to cheer her up, and crap, he didn't mean to make her get all teary and everything.
He seemed to believe her when she told him it was okay, and really, she liked being reminded of the good times. They needed to remember why they were going through with this crazy scheme, after all. It was just that...
Iba nodded, and said that he missed them, too. He clamped his mouth shut as soon as he said it, then started another frantic apology, clearly terrified she was about to start full-on bawling and not just get a little moist and sniffly.
But Momo just said thank you and I'd better get going--we have to be ready in less than two hours, and she smiled and waved goodbye to him as she went off to meet up with Mihane and Kaede.
She hurried up the stairs, knowing she was in danger of being teased for being late again. There were ten minutes left before they had agreed to meet, but Momo knew the chances were she would get lost. The building they were in reminded her of something in a book Nanao had lent her long ago, a twisty castle full of maze-like corridors and half-hidden closets with delightful and horrible things in them.
Funny, but when she thought of times past, and it was her own thinking, it only made her feel fierce and determined to get those times back. Being blindsided, the way she had with Iba...
She jutted her jaw and started taking the stairs two at a time. It was a good thing Iba had accidentally pinpointed that particular weakness. Now that she knew she could be ambushed like that, she would get to work shoring up her defenses. She wasn't going to let anyone--and especially not Ichimaru--have the chance to use her own precious memories against her.
Just look at how she had come so close to... Her face grew hot with shame and she couldn't even bring herself think directly about how she had acted when she heard about Kira being with Ichimaru.
She didn't even want to think about the thought that had danced around in her head for hours afterwards: If he's with Ichimaru, then Ichimaru must have done something to him. Kira's a good person, I know he is, so that's the only possible explanation. It's not his fault. It can't be.
It didn't strike her until she started to say something to Ikkaku that the words about to come out of her mouth were much too similar to other words she'd said months ago.
She had begged Shiro-kun to spare Aizen's life. She had also not been in her right mind. She knew that, now.
In the end, she became lost in thought and lost in the house, and showed up ten minutes late.
"Sorry, sorry! I'm so sorry!" Momo eased the door shut behind her and hurried over with the bag of supplies she'd promised to bring.
"You haven't missed much." Mihane stood in the middle of the room, her arms stuck straight out at her sides as if she were a scarecrow being fitted for a pole. Her top was undone and pulled off her shoulders, but she had left it belted so it pooled around her knees like a skirt. Kaede was trying to wrap a bandage around Mihane's chest but was having some difficulty. "Just our first attempt," she said, ruefully amused.
Kaede giggled. "You shoulda seen it. Minute she started moving around so we could see if it looked real--foom. Half her bustline was at her waist." An evocative hand gesture solidified an already vivid mental image.
"The other half ended up in my armpit," Mihane said.
There was a long pause and it was clearly her turn to fill it, but Momo was still more inclined to introspection than banter. Mihane and Kaede exchanged worried looks, and it became even harder for Momo to say anything and have it not be completely awkward.
"Are you ready to go?" she asked at last.
Mihane looked at her hard, tilting her head and squinting as if she didn't have her glasses on. "Uh, no? That's why we're here?"
"I think she means something else, Mihane-chan." Kaede turned and winked at Momo. "She and me aren't the ones going out and trying to be captured. This time, anyway."
That got a smile. Momo settled down on a hideous blue-upholstered and gold-plated thing with too many curlicues and carved feet that made her suspect it was going to take a walk around the room at any moment.
"You'd think trained shinigami would know that 'small and female' doesn't mean helpless," Momo said. Her smile shifted to something that still didn't quite feel familiar on her face. She wondered if her look could be described as fierce, or if that was just silly of her. "At least they know better now."
"Damn straight!" Kaede piped. "Anyhow, Mihane's ready. And she'll be more ready once we get her dressed up, and oh--crap! This isn't working!"
Kaede stepped back and a length of bandage fluttered to the floor. The wads of rags that had been Mihane's 'breasts' landed in the folds of her top.
"I told you to let me hold the rags in place while you wrap." Mihane's complaint sounded like it had been uttered several times already.
"Nuh-uh. I won't be able to wrap with your arms bent like that. I need a third hand or something. Hey, Momo-chan! C'mere!"
Momo got up, and even though she knew what Kaede was going to ask, there was still something special about the moment when Kaede plunked two huge piles of cloth in her hands and said, "Here. I need you to hold Mihane's tits for her."
And of course the door would open then, and of course Rikichi would be standing right there, gaping, with Iba standing right behind him, grinning like a maniac.
Kaede eep!ed, Mihane went very pale then very red, and Momo simply stalked over to the door, rags still in hand, and struck out with a vicious side kick.
One advantage heavy, wooden western-style doors had over shoji screens was that they slammed shut with a very satisfying thud.
The door was not quite heavy enough to muffle Rikichi's sorrowful "ow" or Iba's laughter, however.
Momo walked back to the others, hiking the cloths over her head like victory trophies.
"Honestly, Iba-san should know better, after all the times he and... Well, after all the times he tried to crash Women's Association events."
Hisagi had been his usual partner in crime for that sort of thing. And the two of them often dragged Kira along if they could get him drunk enough. She felt bad for not remembering that earlier, when he had brought up the Women's Association in the first place.
"Oh, I heard about the beach party! Did Unohana-taichou really threaten to neuter Kyouraku-taichou?" Kaede grabbed Momo's wrist and guided her hands and the rags here and here on Mihane's chest. "And I betcha she was sweet as honey when she said it, too..."
"Why would they want to peek, anyhow?" Mihane asked. She was trying to look stoic, but was blushing so hard Momo thought her skin was about to blister. Meanwhile, Kaede was plumping and poking the cloths into shape as Momo held them in place. "It's not like there's anything real to see here."
"I think it's the principle of the thing, really. Iba-san wouldn't feel like a 'manly man' if he didn't at least try to sneak a peek." Momo wondered if their earlier conversation had put the idea in Iba's mind.
"And I suppose the three of us are kinda-sorta the recon squad's Women's Association, aren't we?" Kaede took a few steps back to study her handiwork. Her eye level was just barely above Mihane's chest level, but Momo had to tilt her head to look with intent. Again, it would have been a perfect moment for someone to walk in. "So, yeah, it makes sense he'd peek. You'll have to get him for it later, though. Just 'cause."
"Absolutely," Mihane seconded. She sounded a little too eager, and not in a way that suggested she was eager for vengeance. "And you'll have to let us help."
"Once this is all over." That came out a little more curt than she had intended. "But yes. Definitely. And we'll have to get Nanao-san involved. She can be creative."
She wasn't going to pretend that everything was okay, because it wasn't. But she needed them to know that she was going to be okay.
Sometimes, Momo suspected the people who acted like they were doing all right were the ones who were not all right at all.
"I do wish Nanao-san could be here for this. She'd be good at this kind of thing," Momo said. She wasn't sure if Nanao would be good at it or not, but it would have made this feel even more like old times.
"She scares me," Kaede said.
Mihane pulled her top back up, fiddling with it until it stayed put over her new breasts. "Well, given which division she was in, I bet she'd know how to deal with a peeping tom."
"Oh, that's true! So, so true..." Momo wiped at her eye, and the tear could have been nostalgia, or it could have been genuine mirth. That happened a lot, these days. The reconnaissance squad was given to dark humor, much of it at their own expense. And today, Iba had danced her through some memories that were painful in the delight they had once held.
It hurt, and yet she could laugh. Momo didn't quite understand it, but she did know one thing: this is how you get better.
They finally got Mihane's cleavage to stay put, but in a way that did move a little bit when she did.
"I'm afraid it will slip if I start running," she said.
"Well, Yoshino will pick you up and carry you when that happens." Ikkaku had suggested him as one of Mihane's escorts. He was burly enough that an observer would immediately peg him as a bodyguard--and strong enough that he could pick up and run with a 'wounded' woman without much trouble. "The running, I mean. And I am afraid it's going to be 'when,' if this whole plan works the way it should."
"Yeah, they'll definitely see through the disguise if we get caught." Mihane pulled a lock of her hair in front of her and squinted at it, cross-eyed. "I guess this looks like the same color as Matsumoto-fukutaichou's hair. Kind of. I haven't cut it in months, but it's still too short."
Momo dug into the bag she'd brought with her. "Nanao-san already thought of that--the hair, I mean--and a few other things."
First to come out of the bag was a long, wide shawl. It was a rich and rosy pink, probably real benibana, given the quality of the silk. They'd found a bolt of the cloth in one of the estate's storerooms, and it was easy enough to cut off a length.
"Put that over your shoulders and wrap yourself like you're cold. That should hide the ends of your hair." Also in the bag was a length of dark red ribbon to wrap the hilt of Mihane's sword. Fortunately her tsuba was of a shape not too different from Haineko's.
The real Haineko had, of course, been buried with her mistress. But the necklace Momo carefully lowered over Mihane's head was Rangiku's.
Momo missed her so much. She ran the end of the chain through her fingers under the pretext of setting it just so over the folds of pink silk.
"Almost done." Her voice was rough. "Just one more thing."
She pulled the last item out of the bag. Iba's armband, doctored with what looked like a large bloodstain to obscure part of the flower, and the lower part of the seven's downstroke, turning the flower into something that might have been a daffodil and the number into something that looked more like a ten than a seven.
They could have faked up an armband, but Iba had argued it would take too long, and besides, they didn't want something that would look new.
Momo suspected it was more because he needed to feel like he was a part of this mission in some way.
He couldn't do anything about the mission to contact his friend, just like she couldn't do anything to bring down the man who had used and betrayed her.
Throughout the past day, Momo had been thinking that things might have been easier for them if by some magic chance, she and Iba were going to be included in the group going to Hueco Mundo.
"Did Matsumoto-fukutaichou ever say why she wore her badge on her hip like this?" Mihane swiveled this way and that, getting used to the feel of the badge. "Oh, crap! I think things are coming loose!"
"I honestly don't know--she never said. And hmm... hold your arm like this under your chest." Momo illustrated what she meant, giving herself a half-hug across the bottom of her rib cage. "No, your right arm."
"But that's my sword--"
"If this works, you won't be getting within fighting distance." Momo paused, and let the impact of her next words subside within her before she said them. "That's where Rangiku-san was wounded. Right there. I think Ichimaru would have seen it."
At least, she hoped he had. She hoped he had nightmares about it. After all, he deserved to suffer as much as she had. As much, and more.
"Oh." Mihane switched arms and hugged herself tightly.
Momo still remembered the sound of that chunk being torn from Rangiku's side. She remembered thinking that Rangiku had been killed in that instant, and the miracle of hearing that she was alive and would recover if she got proper medical attention.
Momo had put so much trust in that miracle that she did not believe it at first when Isane had come up to them after they had fled to safety and told them that Rangiku had not survived the journey.
It was as if she had died twice.
And now she knew that the Espada whose minions had killed Rangiku was still alive. Grimmjow had said she had Ayasegawa-san following her around like a devoted servant.
She had pointed this out to Ikkaku this morning, right before they sparred. She wasn't sure why, but the words came out like steam rattling the lid of a pot.
So what, he'd said. He'd kill her just the same as he would kill any other damned Espada that crossed his path. And that was it. And did she want to spar, or did she want to stand around yapping?
When she told Iba about her gaffe later on, he got very quiet and his mouth thinned to a tight little line. I see, he'd said. And that was it.
This time, the lid stayed on Momo's words.
"Well, I think that's as good as it gets," Kaede said at last. "Whaddya think, Momo-chan?"
Momo walked around and around, checking Mihane from every angle, squinting to fuzz her out as if she was being seen from a distance. She wouldn't move like Rangiku, but that could be explained away as her being wounded. "Uh, glasses off?"
"Oops!" Mihane fumbled her glasses off and passed them over to Kaede for safekeeping. She looked quite vulnerable without them.
"Are you going to be okay, Mihane-san?"
"Yeah, I think so. Ogidou'll keep me from walking into any trees, right?"
Momo took a deep breath. "That's not what I meant."
Mihane looked puzzled at first, but then she blushed, and her gaze hit the floor.
"We're asking a lot of you," Momo said. This wasn't a Women's Association prank, no matter what she and Iba had said. It was a desperate gambit with as much chance of failure as success, with failure meaning ending up in the hands of a psychopath who would not treat a woman caught pretending to be his lady love with anything resembling kindness.
"You're asking a lot of Ogidou and Yoshino and Newbie, too."
Having one of the Fourth's most recognized officers with the group would sell the idea that 'Rangiku' was wounded. And both he and Yoshino were powerful without having a distinctive 'flavor' to their reiatsu. With three moderately powerful but undistinguished shinigami being deliberately sloppy about hiding their power, it could very well create the illusion of one very powerful--fukutaichou-powerful--shinigami who was perhaps having some difficulty maintaining control over her own reiatsu.
They had thought of everything they could to sell the illusion, but there was no guarantee it would be enough. There was no guarantee that the patrol they encountered wouldn't be a little too fast, a little too smart... Even with Takano keeping an eye on things from cover, it could all go very bad very quickly.
If they didn't have to act so quickly, the whole idea would have been rejected as too risky. But taking Hueco Mundo would mean nothing if they didn't also secure Seireitei, and to do that, they had to get Ichimaru and his best people out and away. There were probably other, better ways to do that, but there was no more time.
"I just want to be sure that you're okay, that's all." She did. She really did. Mihane and Kaede and Yoshino and Takano and even Ogidou.
"I'm not planning on getting myself killed, I promise."
"That's not what I meant," Momo said again, but there was no way to explain what she did mean, any more than she could explain why she'd said what she did to Ikkaku or why she wanted to laugh about old times as much as cry about them.
In the end, she just gave Mihane a hug. She would have broken it off swiftly, but Kaede joined in, nearly knocking them to the ground even as she held Mihane's glasses over her head so they wouldn't get crushed.
---
Daniel Takano watched and mused.
He was dressed like a forest shadow, a patchwork of dark fabrics that worked well enough as camouflage, and he sat in the dappled shade of a tree and watched everything unfold in good order.
Dan liked order, even though he knew that he was never meant to be a part of it. Never one of the sheep, always one of Those Nasty Sheepdogs with teeth. To those of Japanese descent in the US, he was American, Sansei, without even a decent name. To white Americans he was one of those Coloradan Nips, who had been trusted well enough their farms had been kept by the locals for them when they'd come back from the camps.
When he'd gone 1200 miles away and a mile down to the San Diego Navy, his family had all nodded at this further sign of his aberration. That he had succeeded beyond anyone's expectations for him and gotten into the SEAL program in the Navy was simply a matter that was hushed up at home. A good Japanese boy wouldn't go into the military, but with the sharp, dangerous minds of the SEALs he'd found his real home.
He missed Team Seven's Gamma Squad, missed his commander Bob "Cat" Catalanotto, and most of all he missed his swim buddy Mack Farrow more than he cared to admit. They'd watched each others backs on more missions than he wanted to count. They'd been like two bodies with the same mind, and he wondered now what kind of afterlife Mack had found in that mission gone wrong, and if it was one he'd at least expected.
Dan had never expected this when he'd been deployed from Yokosuka. Never thought an American SEAL would find his way into a Japanese heaven, much less become a Death God. It had seemed the highest of ironies, especially when he'd been assigned to the Seventh Division.
Sometimes he wondered what he'd tell his grandmother if he found her here. He was sure Ikkaku's reconnaissance squad would have simply cemented her feelings about fighting.
As unorganized as Ikkaku's squad was, he was happier with them than he'd been with civilians. He could be effective and it didn't frighten them, and he'd gotten to like their mixed group, once the women had proven themselves. He still wasn't sure about having them there, sometimes. His gut instincts still wanted to protect them, and as much as he could fight it logically and in his head he knew they could take care of themselves, he knew that his reactions were still not all under his control. They were still the sheep he was supposed to protect, even if they had katana that could slice him open in an instant.
He watched poor Shirogane holding her side, walking as quickly as she could, as blind as she was without her glasses. She looked hesitant, hurt to his eyes, and some part of him ached and raged at that. Light gleamed from the necklace about her neck. Yoshino hovered nearby, and Ogidou was smiling so hard, it was a wonder his teeth didn't shatter. They were going slow, and Dan longed for at least a decent radio set with earplugs and a mic.
Gin's folks were a few hundred yards away and closing. Between his ability to sense reiatsu and the incredible amount of noise they were making, he could track those T's well enough. He flashed the Go Slow two-flash signal with a mirror, and Shirogane stumbled.
He moved silently through the trees, avoiding brush and stones and staying in the shadows, and came close enough to identify four members of Misura's patrol. That would be good: Misura had enough balls to actually report this to Gin, not just ignore it. When they started pointing and suddenly stopped to talk, he was able to move clear and flash the Go Fast single flash. Yoshino just about picked Shirogane up and got her going.
Dan heard murmurs from the gathered patrolmen.
"High reiatsu, what do we do?"
"Report it, of course."
"Not chase 'em?"
"We're no match for a fukutaichou."
"But she's hurt."
"And Gin's in love with her, all the more reason not to piss her off."
"Oh. Okay. So we don't have to fight them, just tell Misura-san and he can..."
"He'll get to face Gin."
"Oh, good."
"What d'ya mean good, I like Misura-san, he takes care of us."
"Does that mean we should get her?"
Dan tensed. If they went after Shirogane, he'd play rearguard to buy them enough time to get away, and persuade the patrol their time was better spent telling Gin about the possibility rather than sacrificing themselves.
There was a long pause, then a solid, "No. We're not equipped to take on that much reiatsu. Even if we sent Kano back and all three of us hit 'em, we'd be toast. The information is more important, let's go."
Dan breathed a sigh that was half relief and half disappointment. He'd managed to booby trap part of the path back to the mansion, but Kuukaku had been pretty plain in her language about not revealing their explosive capabilities until The Day. Still, he would have liked to try some of it out. Working with her had been almost like working with his old squad members; as sharp as a razor, fast with improvisations with what they had, and she knew her ordinance inside and out: too bad she hated swimming.
He grinned to himself. He must be making progress, he couldn't quite be sorry she was a woman.
He looped about after the patrol members, and made sure that none of them broke back unexpectedly. When he saw them all headed off to the white walls of Seireitei he left them to circle back to the mansion. The mansion that was now stuffed to the gills with surprises, a lions' den he'd helped build.
Now the fuse was lit.
Takano Dan chuckled to himself. This was the part of the job he always liked best. There was no turning back now, and no use wondering what might have been. As dangerous as it was going to get, he knew himself well enough that he was good at doing what had to be done; and unlike the others, his death was recent enough to remember and he wouldn't mind doing that again, if it meant he could keep his charges safe.
---
Gin ignored the sweating fool waiting on his knees to be given the final order for the execution. He had a Hell Butterfly stretched between his hands, his fingers delicately holding the upper right and left wings. As its little body jerked backwards and forwards, he could see the wingdust being deposited on his skin in tiny onyx starbursts.
"Always wondered about this," he told Izuru, who was listening like a good boy, his face tilted up as he crouched next to Gin's chair. "But there was always a budget on the things."
It was quiet outside. This was a private execution, not a public one. Gin preferred the public ones, but sometimes people got ideas. Either they tried rescues, or the people getting executed made speeches, and the whole thing was bad for morale. Nobles were especially annoying that way. Perhaps they had private tutors who gave them lessons in it.
Not as if he'd know, is it? Not him, not a Rukongai brat like him.
And he tried to avoid executing the useful nobles, the ones who'd cooperate, who'd kneel there and take it in the teeth with a nice big smile and bow their heads and do what they were told. He was building a whole new Seireitei, a new modality. That was one of the nice big words Aizen-taichou had taught him, back in the days when he was just a fresh-faced little brat with blood on his sword and a quick grin and Rangiku-chan nearby.
Weird how those days came back to him, more real than life was now.
Course, some nobles weren't going to get any chances. The Kuchiki clan, for one. He'd got maps of their lands all drawn up with dotted lines on them. Just wait, sooner or later he'd find a way of breaking their defenses, or get enough of their neighbours on his side, and then they'd be finding out what it meant to live in Rukongai. Or some of the weaker ones, like Ukitake's house. They were out of his reach for the moment. It wouldn't be that way forever.
But he'd be nice to their kids. He had a lovely plan for a whole new Academy. Aizen-taichou'd be proud of him. He'd make the trip to Hueco Mundo with a whole new group of his own shinigami, and --
The butterfly jerked between his fingers. He pulled.
The wings came off simultaneously. Now wasn't that curious?
He sighed, and brushed the writhing creature off his lap, knocking it to the floor. "All right," he told the waiting subordinate. "You can take --"
The double doors at the far end of his audience chamber swung open, and Misura, one of his more reliable servants, came dashing in and threw himself to his knees.
Well, now that was interesting. Normally they knew better than to disturb him. Might even be kinda important. "You got my attention, Misura," he said, ignoring the other man again. "What's the problem?"
"News, Ichimaru-soutaichou," Misura stammered. "We have news. We think it's about one of the people you want."
Gin rose to his feet. "Right. You'll be telling me this in private." No need to let the whole world hear it. The audience chamber was far too public.
"But, Ichimaru-soutaichou," the other man stammered, "the execution --"
Gin sighed. Couldn't anyone round here do their job? "I didn't order it," he said, nice and pleasantly, "so it ain't going to happen. Put him back in his cell till later. And tell him --" He thought. This sort of thing was important. "Tell him we captured a dozen people from his house trying to rescue him, so we're just torturing them first to get them to talk before we execute him. That oughta give him something to think about."
He prided himself on these little touches. They made life seem so much more interesting to other people.
"C'mon, Misura," he said. "And you, Kira. Let's hear the news."
Five minutes later, in Gin's private study, Misura was spilling it. How one of the patrols had reported seeing a "tall blonde woman, injured, being assisted by two others, a vice-captain's badge, a high level of reiatsu . . ." How the patrol had managed to trace their direction. How they hadn't been moving fast, probably because of the woman's injuries. How . . .
It all blended into a high singing blur in Gin's ears. From a distance, an oddly strange and precise distance, he could see that Misura was trembling where he knelt on the floor. He couldn't for the life of him understand why. He hadn't been so happy in months.
Who else could it be? Weren't as if there were that many women out there who looked anything like his Rangiku-chan. The reiatsu level just made it obvious. She might be trying to hide from him, but it'd all be different once he could explain things to her.
He began to whistle to himself, just imagining the scene. He'd put one arm around her shoulder, and she'd relax into him just the way she used to, and he'd look down into her breasts and say, "Rangiku-chan, this time there ain't nothing that's going to take you away from me --"
Oh wait. Yes. First he had to get her back from the Resistance. Stupid idiots, who'd just been that little bit too stupid. "Misura," he said. "Fetch me the maps of that sector, will ya? And have the men in that squad held for further questioning. I may want to ask a few more questions."
Misura sprang to his feet, a sweat of relief on his forehead. "Yes, Ichimaru-soutaichou!" he gasped, and fled.
"Maps, Ichimaru-sama?" Izuru asked.
He was a sweet boy, but Gin had to admit that when Aizen-taichou had adapted him, it hadn't made him any quicker-thinking. "Maps," Gin explained. "If Rangiku-chan's injured and moving slowly, then they can't have gone far. Odds are she's going to join the rest of the Resistance, not running away from them. After all, if she had been escaping them to be with me, she'd have stayed with my men, right?"
Izuru nodded solemnly. "Yes, Ichimaru-sama," he agreed.
"Which means it's likely that the Resistance has a base in the area," Gin went on. "And there's a few dozen of them, and they've got Ukitake with them, and he was hurt real bad, so they can't just be camping out."
For a moment, he'd enjoyed the thought of Rangiku-chan trying to escape them so she could be with him. It was a shame that it wasn't so. Poor girl, she just had to be deluded, thinking they even had a chance. He'd make sure she understood how things really were, once he had her again. He wouldn't even need Aizen-taichou's help this time.
Misura came running back in again with the maps. He deposited them on the table next to Gin, then went back down on his knees again, hunching in on himself like he was trying to make himself the smallest target possible.
Gin ignored him, and flipped through the maps till he'd found the one he wanted. "So here's where they were," he told Izuru, who was sitting up on his heels to look at it, "and here's the direction she was going in . . ."
He trailed a brush across the map thoughtfully. "And assuming they were going slow, here's about the furthest they could go in a day."
"No villages close to there, Ichimaru-sama," Izuru said, frowning at the map. "It would be a fairly safe area to hide in."
"Good boy, Izuru-kun," Gin agreed, and smiled at the happiness in Izuru's eyes. "And lookie right here. Just here." He pointed at a dot on the map. "It's a private estate. Right direction, feasible distance. Misura! Get up and come tell me about this one."
Misura hurried across to look. "That one -- it used to belong to the Nagato family, sir. They were a cadet branch of the Oomeda family. In trade, and an interest in Western goods. That was a private hunting preserve of theirs. They ended up going bankrupt and being absorbed back into the Oomeda family seventy or eighty years ago."
"So that one belongs to their house?" Gin asked.
"Only technically, sir," Misura said. He was real good at this sort of thing. Gin knew he'd been in Eighth and training under Ise Nanao before things . . . changed. He could be trusted to research stuff and get all the facts that Gin might want. "It wasn't close enough to central Seireitei to be any use to the Oomeda family. I believe they tried to sell it off but couldn't find a buyer, and they ended up mostly abandoning it."
Gin could feel himself smiling. "Well, well, well, don't this sound interesting. Misura, go ask that patrol a few more questions, and don't ya stop till you're sure of what they're saying or they get too broken to answer. Then go find me a couple of dozen reliable sorts. We'll be making a little excursion real soon."
Misura was sweating again. He nodded with desperate urgency, then ran from the room.
"Can I come, Ichimaru-sama?" Izuru asked hopefully.
"Course you can," Gin said, and petted his hair. "Don't you go thinking I'd leave you behind, Izuru-kun. You're real important to me."
Izuru blushed sweetly.
"Now you fetch me a Hell Butterfly," Gin instructed.
He had several minutes to plan his message before Izuru returned with the little fluttering creature, still in its cage. He didn't want to sound weak in front of Aizen-taichou. That'd be all sorts of wrong. But he wasn't going to mess things up for want of good men, either. After all, Ukitake might be ill, but he wasn't any sort of slouch, and there were at least a couple of vice-captains with him. Maybe more. It'd be easy to kill them, but Aizen-taichou would be wanting living prisoners. There just weren't enough sorts around who were strong enough to be useful to him.
He took the Hell Butterfly from Izuru, and raised it to his lips. "Aizen-taichou," he said. "I've got a line on Matsumoto and the Resistance, and I'll be heading out real soon to go follow it up. I'd be grateful if you could send a few people my way to help with the job. I'd be real grateful in particular for that experiment of yours who you said was doing so nicely. I'm thinking a little reunion may be just what's needed to tip the scales."
And he wouldn't mind seeing that particular experiment again himself. The very thought made him smile just like he'd smiled when he was a boy.
---
Arc: Winter War - an AU co-write with liralen and sophiap
Characters: Hinamori, Takano ("Newbie"), Ichimaru
Rating/Warning: PG-13 for language, references to character death
Summary: In which the plan goes into action.
Notes: This is a rather dark AU co-plotted with liralen and sophiap. The war against Aizen's forces went very badly. Nothing is sacred and no one is safe.
Index of Links
[...]
11. Soi Fong: En Garde
12. Gin: On Top
13. Karakura: Waiting
14. Iba: Hurry Up And Wait
15. Isane: Present
16. Nanao: Looking For A Blonde
17. Hanatarou: Underground
18. Lisa: Prisoner's Dilemma
(Note: this section was written by all three of the writers together. While readers do not get any cookies for correct guesses, feel free to guess who wrote which bit anyhow.)
WINTER WAR: HINAMORI, TAKANO, ICHIMARU: TAKING THE BAIT
Earlier that day, Momo told Iba that the whole plan to lure Ichimaru out of Seireitei by dressing Shirogane Mihane up as Rangiku was starting to strike her as a little... well, silly. That is, it would have been silly except for... well, except for the whole part where it wasn't really funny at all.
Iba agreed, and then went on to say with a wistful laugh that it kind of reminded him of some of the crazier schemes the Women's Association had come up with over the years.
It was kind of sweet, afterwards, the way he stumbled through an apology and said he was just trying to cheer her up, and crap, he didn't mean to make her get all teary and everything.
He seemed to believe her when she told him it was okay, and really, she liked being reminded of the good times. They needed to remember why they were going through with this crazy scheme, after all. It was just that...
Iba nodded, and said that he missed them, too. He clamped his mouth shut as soon as he said it, then started another frantic apology, clearly terrified she was about to start full-on bawling and not just get a little moist and sniffly.
But Momo just said thank you and I'd better get going--we have to be ready in less than two hours, and she smiled and waved goodbye to him as she went off to meet up with Mihane and Kaede.
She hurried up the stairs, knowing she was in danger of being teased for being late again. There were ten minutes left before they had agreed to meet, but Momo knew the chances were she would get lost. The building they were in reminded her of something in a book Nanao had lent her long ago, a twisty castle full of maze-like corridors and half-hidden closets with delightful and horrible things in them.
Funny, but when she thought of times past, and it was her own thinking, it only made her feel fierce and determined to get those times back. Being blindsided, the way she had with Iba...
She jutted her jaw and started taking the stairs two at a time. It was a good thing Iba had accidentally pinpointed that particular weakness. Now that she knew she could be ambushed like that, she would get to work shoring up her defenses. She wasn't going to let anyone--and especially not Ichimaru--have the chance to use her own precious memories against her.
Just look at how she had come so close to... Her face grew hot with shame and she couldn't even bring herself think directly about how she had acted when she heard about Kira being with Ichimaru.
She didn't even want to think about the thought that had danced around in her head for hours afterwards: If he's with Ichimaru, then Ichimaru must have done something to him. Kira's a good person, I know he is, so that's the only possible explanation. It's not his fault. It can't be.
It didn't strike her until she started to say something to Ikkaku that the words about to come out of her mouth were much too similar to other words she'd said months ago.
She had begged Shiro-kun to spare Aizen's life. She had also not been in her right mind. She knew that, now.
In the end, she became lost in thought and lost in the house, and showed up ten minutes late.
"Sorry, sorry! I'm so sorry!" Momo eased the door shut behind her and hurried over with the bag of supplies she'd promised to bring.
"You haven't missed much." Mihane stood in the middle of the room, her arms stuck straight out at her sides as if she were a scarecrow being fitted for a pole. Her top was undone and pulled off her shoulders, but she had left it belted so it pooled around her knees like a skirt. Kaede was trying to wrap a bandage around Mihane's chest but was having some difficulty. "Just our first attempt," she said, ruefully amused.
Kaede giggled. "You shoulda seen it. Minute she started moving around so we could see if it looked real--foom. Half her bustline was at her waist." An evocative hand gesture solidified an already vivid mental image.
"The other half ended up in my armpit," Mihane said.
There was a long pause and it was clearly her turn to fill it, but Momo was still more inclined to introspection than banter. Mihane and Kaede exchanged worried looks, and it became even harder for Momo to say anything and have it not be completely awkward.
"Are you ready to go?" she asked at last.
Mihane looked at her hard, tilting her head and squinting as if she didn't have her glasses on. "Uh, no? That's why we're here?"
"I think she means something else, Mihane-chan." Kaede turned and winked at Momo. "She and me aren't the ones going out and trying to be captured. This time, anyway."
That got a smile. Momo settled down on a hideous blue-upholstered and gold-plated thing with too many curlicues and carved feet that made her suspect it was going to take a walk around the room at any moment.
"You'd think trained shinigami would know that 'small and female' doesn't mean helpless," Momo said. Her smile shifted to something that still didn't quite feel familiar on her face. She wondered if her look could be described as fierce, or if that was just silly of her. "At least they know better now."
"Damn straight!" Kaede piped. "Anyhow, Mihane's ready. And she'll be more ready once we get her dressed up, and oh--crap! This isn't working!"
Kaede stepped back and a length of bandage fluttered to the floor. The wads of rags that had been Mihane's 'breasts' landed in the folds of her top.
"I told you to let me hold the rags in place while you wrap." Mihane's complaint sounded like it had been uttered several times already.
"Nuh-uh. I won't be able to wrap with your arms bent like that. I need a third hand or something. Hey, Momo-chan! C'mere!"
Momo got up, and even though she knew what Kaede was going to ask, there was still something special about the moment when Kaede plunked two huge piles of cloth in her hands and said, "Here. I need you to hold Mihane's tits for her."
And of course the door would open then, and of course Rikichi would be standing right there, gaping, with Iba standing right behind him, grinning like a maniac.
Kaede eep!ed, Mihane went very pale then very red, and Momo simply stalked over to the door, rags still in hand, and struck out with a vicious side kick.
One advantage heavy, wooden western-style doors had over shoji screens was that they slammed shut with a very satisfying thud.
The door was not quite heavy enough to muffle Rikichi's sorrowful "ow" or Iba's laughter, however.
Momo walked back to the others, hiking the cloths over her head like victory trophies.
"Honestly, Iba-san should know better, after all the times he and... Well, after all the times he tried to crash Women's Association events."
Hisagi had been his usual partner in crime for that sort of thing. And the two of them often dragged Kira along if they could get him drunk enough. She felt bad for not remembering that earlier, when he had brought up the Women's Association in the first place.
"Oh, I heard about the beach party! Did Unohana-taichou really threaten to neuter Kyouraku-taichou?" Kaede grabbed Momo's wrist and guided her hands and the rags here and here on Mihane's chest. "And I betcha she was sweet as honey when she said it, too..."
"Why would they want to peek, anyhow?" Mihane asked. She was trying to look stoic, but was blushing so hard Momo thought her skin was about to blister. Meanwhile, Kaede was plumping and poking the cloths into shape as Momo held them in place. "It's not like there's anything real to see here."
"I think it's the principle of the thing, really. Iba-san wouldn't feel like a 'manly man' if he didn't at least try to sneak a peek." Momo wondered if their earlier conversation had put the idea in Iba's mind.
"And I suppose the three of us are kinda-sorta the recon squad's Women's Association, aren't we?" Kaede took a few steps back to study her handiwork. Her eye level was just barely above Mihane's chest level, but Momo had to tilt her head to look with intent. Again, it would have been a perfect moment for someone to walk in. "So, yeah, it makes sense he'd peek. You'll have to get him for it later, though. Just 'cause."
"Absolutely," Mihane seconded. She sounded a little too eager, and not in a way that suggested she was eager for vengeance. "And you'll have to let us help."
"Once this is all over." That came out a little more curt than she had intended. "But yes. Definitely. And we'll have to get Nanao-san involved. She can be creative."
She wasn't going to pretend that everything was okay, because it wasn't. But she needed them to know that she was going to be okay.
Sometimes, Momo suspected the people who acted like they were doing all right were the ones who were not all right at all.
"I do wish Nanao-san could be here for this. She'd be good at this kind of thing," Momo said. She wasn't sure if Nanao would be good at it or not, but it would have made this feel even more like old times.
"She scares me," Kaede said.
Mihane pulled her top back up, fiddling with it until it stayed put over her new breasts. "Well, given which division she was in, I bet she'd know how to deal with a peeping tom."
"Oh, that's true! So, so true..." Momo wiped at her eye, and the tear could have been nostalgia, or it could have been genuine mirth. That happened a lot, these days. The reconnaissance squad was given to dark humor, much of it at their own expense. And today, Iba had danced her through some memories that were painful in the delight they had once held.
It hurt, and yet she could laugh. Momo didn't quite understand it, but she did know one thing: this is how you get better.
They finally got Mihane's cleavage to stay put, but in a way that did move a little bit when she did.
"I'm afraid it will slip if I start running," she said.
"Well, Yoshino will pick you up and carry you when that happens." Ikkaku had suggested him as one of Mihane's escorts. He was burly enough that an observer would immediately peg him as a bodyguard--and strong enough that he could pick up and run with a 'wounded' woman without much trouble. "The running, I mean. And I am afraid it's going to be 'when,' if this whole plan works the way it should."
"Yeah, they'll definitely see through the disguise if we get caught." Mihane pulled a lock of her hair in front of her and squinted at it, cross-eyed. "I guess this looks like the same color as Matsumoto-fukutaichou's hair. Kind of. I haven't cut it in months, but it's still too short."
Momo dug into the bag she'd brought with her. "Nanao-san already thought of that--the hair, I mean--and a few other things."
First to come out of the bag was a long, wide shawl. It was a rich and rosy pink, probably real benibana, given the quality of the silk. They'd found a bolt of the cloth in one of the estate's storerooms, and it was easy enough to cut off a length.
"Put that over your shoulders and wrap yourself like you're cold. That should hide the ends of your hair." Also in the bag was a length of dark red ribbon to wrap the hilt of Mihane's sword. Fortunately her tsuba was of a shape not too different from Haineko's.
The real Haineko had, of course, been buried with her mistress. But the necklace Momo carefully lowered over Mihane's head was Rangiku's.
Momo missed her so much. She ran the end of the chain through her fingers under the pretext of setting it just so over the folds of pink silk.
"Almost done." Her voice was rough. "Just one more thing."
She pulled the last item out of the bag. Iba's armband, doctored with what looked like a large bloodstain to obscure part of the flower, and the lower part of the seven's downstroke, turning the flower into something that might have been a daffodil and the number into something that looked more like a ten than a seven.
They could have faked up an armband, but Iba had argued it would take too long, and besides, they didn't want something that would look new.
Momo suspected it was more because he needed to feel like he was a part of this mission in some way.
He couldn't do anything about the mission to contact his friend, just like she couldn't do anything to bring down the man who had used and betrayed her.
Throughout the past day, Momo had been thinking that things might have been easier for them if by some magic chance, she and Iba were going to be included in the group going to Hueco Mundo.
"Did Matsumoto-fukutaichou ever say why she wore her badge on her hip like this?" Mihane swiveled this way and that, getting used to the feel of the badge. "Oh, crap! I think things are coming loose!"
"I honestly don't know--she never said. And hmm... hold your arm like this under your chest." Momo illustrated what she meant, giving herself a half-hug across the bottom of her rib cage. "No, your right arm."
"But that's my sword--"
"If this works, you won't be getting within fighting distance." Momo paused, and let the impact of her next words subside within her before she said them. "That's where Rangiku-san was wounded. Right there. I think Ichimaru would have seen it."
At least, she hoped he had. She hoped he had nightmares about it. After all, he deserved to suffer as much as she had. As much, and more.
"Oh." Mihane switched arms and hugged herself tightly.
Momo still remembered the sound of that chunk being torn from Rangiku's side. She remembered thinking that Rangiku had been killed in that instant, and the miracle of hearing that she was alive and would recover if she got proper medical attention.
Momo had put so much trust in that miracle that she did not believe it at first when Isane had come up to them after they had fled to safety and told them that Rangiku had not survived the journey.
It was as if she had died twice.
And now she knew that the Espada whose minions had killed Rangiku was still alive. Grimmjow had said she had Ayasegawa-san following her around like a devoted servant.
She had pointed this out to Ikkaku this morning, right before they sparred. She wasn't sure why, but the words came out like steam rattling the lid of a pot.
So what, he'd said. He'd kill her just the same as he would kill any other damned Espada that crossed his path. And that was it. And did she want to spar, or did she want to stand around yapping?
When she told Iba about her gaffe later on, he got very quiet and his mouth thinned to a tight little line. I see, he'd said. And that was it.
This time, the lid stayed on Momo's words.
"Well, I think that's as good as it gets," Kaede said at last. "Whaddya think, Momo-chan?"
Momo walked around and around, checking Mihane from every angle, squinting to fuzz her out as if she was being seen from a distance. She wouldn't move like Rangiku, but that could be explained away as her being wounded. "Uh, glasses off?"
"Oops!" Mihane fumbled her glasses off and passed them over to Kaede for safekeeping. She looked quite vulnerable without them.
"Are you going to be okay, Mihane-san?"
"Yeah, I think so. Ogidou'll keep me from walking into any trees, right?"
Momo took a deep breath. "That's not what I meant."
Mihane looked puzzled at first, but then she blushed, and her gaze hit the floor.
"We're asking a lot of you," Momo said. This wasn't a Women's Association prank, no matter what she and Iba had said. It was a desperate gambit with as much chance of failure as success, with failure meaning ending up in the hands of a psychopath who would not treat a woman caught pretending to be his lady love with anything resembling kindness.
"You're asking a lot of Ogidou and Yoshino and Newbie, too."
Having one of the Fourth's most recognized officers with the group would sell the idea that 'Rangiku' was wounded. And both he and Yoshino were powerful without having a distinctive 'flavor' to their reiatsu. With three moderately powerful but undistinguished shinigami being deliberately sloppy about hiding their power, it could very well create the illusion of one very powerful--fukutaichou-powerful--shinigami who was perhaps having some difficulty maintaining control over her own reiatsu.
They had thought of everything they could to sell the illusion, but there was no guarantee it would be enough. There was no guarantee that the patrol they encountered wouldn't be a little too fast, a little too smart... Even with Takano keeping an eye on things from cover, it could all go very bad very quickly.
If they didn't have to act so quickly, the whole idea would have been rejected as too risky. But taking Hueco Mundo would mean nothing if they didn't also secure Seireitei, and to do that, they had to get Ichimaru and his best people out and away. There were probably other, better ways to do that, but there was no more time.
"I just want to be sure that you're okay, that's all." She did. She really did. Mihane and Kaede and Yoshino and Takano and even Ogidou.
"I'm not planning on getting myself killed, I promise."
"That's not what I meant," Momo said again, but there was no way to explain what she did mean, any more than she could explain why she'd said what she did to Ikkaku or why she wanted to laugh about old times as much as cry about them.
In the end, she just gave Mihane a hug. She would have broken it off swiftly, but Kaede joined in, nearly knocking them to the ground even as she held Mihane's glasses over her head so they wouldn't get crushed.
---
Daniel Takano watched and mused.
He was dressed like a forest shadow, a patchwork of dark fabrics that worked well enough as camouflage, and he sat in the dappled shade of a tree and watched everything unfold in good order.
Dan liked order, even though he knew that he was never meant to be a part of it. Never one of the sheep, always one of Those Nasty Sheepdogs with teeth. To those of Japanese descent in the US, he was American, Sansei, without even a decent name. To white Americans he was one of those Coloradan Nips, who had been trusted well enough their farms had been kept by the locals for them when they'd come back from the camps.
When he'd gone 1200 miles away and a mile down to the San Diego Navy, his family had all nodded at this further sign of his aberration. That he had succeeded beyond anyone's expectations for him and gotten into the SEAL program in the Navy was simply a matter that was hushed up at home. A good Japanese boy wouldn't go into the military, but with the sharp, dangerous minds of the SEALs he'd found his real home.
He missed Team Seven's Gamma Squad, missed his commander Bob "Cat" Catalanotto, and most of all he missed his swim buddy Mack Farrow more than he cared to admit. They'd watched each others backs on more missions than he wanted to count. They'd been like two bodies with the same mind, and he wondered now what kind of afterlife Mack had found in that mission gone wrong, and if it was one he'd at least expected.
Dan had never expected this when he'd been deployed from Yokosuka. Never thought an American SEAL would find his way into a Japanese heaven, much less become a Death God. It had seemed the highest of ironies, especially when he'd been assigned to the Seventh Division.
Sometimes he wondered what he'd tell his grandmother if he found her here. He was sure Ikkaku's reconnaissance squad would have simply cemented her feelings about fighting.
As unorganized as Ikkaku's squad was, he was happier with them than he'd been with civilians. He could be effective and it didn't frighten them, and he'd gotten to like their mixed group, once the women had proven themselves. He still wasn't sure about having them there, sometimes. His gut instincts still wanted to protect them, and as much as he could fight it logically and in his head he knew they could take care of themselves, he knew that his reactions were still not all under his control. They were still the sheep he was supposed to protect, even if they had katana that could slice him open in an instant.
He watched poor Shirogane holding her side, walking as quickly as she could, as blind as she was without her glasses. She looked hesitant, hurt to his eyes, and some part of him ached and raged at that. Light gleamed from the necklace about her neck. Yoshino hovered nearby, and Ogidou was smiling so hard, it was a wonder his teeth didn't shatter. They were going slow, and Dan longed for at least a decent radio set with earplugs and a mic.
Gin's folks were a few hundred yards away and closing. Between his ability to sense reiatsu and the incredible amount of noise they were making, he could track those T's well enough. He flashed the Go Slow two-flash signal with a mirror, and Shirogane stumbled.
He moved silently through the trees, avoiding brush and stones and staying in the shadows, and came close enough to identify four members of Misura's patrol. That would be good: Misura had enough balls to actually report this to Gin, not just ignore it. When they started pointing and suddenly stopped to talk, he was able to move clear and flash the Go Fast single flash. Yoshino just about picked Shirogane up and got her going.
Dan heard murmurs from the gathered patrolmen.
"High reiatsu, what do we do?"
"Report it, of course."
"Not chase 'em?"
"We're no match for a fukutaichou."
"But she's hurt."
"And Gin's in love with her, all the more reason not to piss her off."
"Oh. Okay. So we don't have to fight them, just tell Misura-san and he can..."
"He'll get to face Gin."
"Oh, good."
"What d'ya mean good, I like Misura-san, he takes care of us."
"Does that mean we should get her?"
Dan tensed. If they went after Shirogane, he'd play rearguard to buy them enough time to get away, and persuade the patrol their time was better spent telling Gin about the possibility rather than sacrificing themselves.
There was a long pause, then a solid, "No. We're not equipped to take on that much reiatsu. Even if we sent Kano back and all three of us hit 'em, we'd be toast. The information is more important, let's go."
Dan breathed a sigh that was half relief and half disappointment. He'd managed to booby trap part of the path back to the mansion, but Kuukaku had been pretty plain in her language about not revealing their explosive capabilities until The Day. Still, he would have liked to try some of it out. Working with her had been almost like working with his old squad members; as sharp as a razor, fast with improvisations with what they had, and she knew her ordinance inside and out: too bad she hated swimming.
He grinned to himself. He must be making progress, he couldn't quite be sorry she was a woman.
He looped about after the patrol members, and made sure that none of them broke back unexpectedly. When he saw them all headed off to the white walls of Seireitei he left them to circle back to the mansion. The mansion that was now stuffed to the gills with surprises, a lions' den he'd helped build.
Now the fuse was lit.
Takano Dan chuckled to himself. This was the part of the job he always liked best. There was no turning back now, and no use wondering what might have been. As dangerous as it was going to get, he knew himself well enough that he was good at doing what had to be done; and unlike the others, his death was recent enough to remember and he wouldn't mind doing that again, if it meant he could keep his charges safe.
---
Gin ignored the sweating fool waiting on his knees to be given the final order for the execution. He had a Hell Butterfly stretched between his hands, his fingers delicately holding the upper right and left wings. As its little body jerked backwards and forwards, he could see the wingdust being deposited on his skin in tiny onyx starbursts.
"Always wondered about this," he told Izuru, who was listening like a good boy, his face tilted up as he crouched next to Gin's chair. "But there was always a budget on the things."
It was quiet outside. This was a private execution, not a public one. Gin preferred the public ones, but sometimes people got ideas. Either they tried rescues, or the people getting executed made speeches, and the whole thing was bad for morale. Nobles were especially annoying that way. Perhaps they had private tutors who gave them lessons in it.
Not as if he'd know, is it? Not him, not a Rukongai brat like him.
And he tried to avoid executing the useful nobles, the ones who'd cooperate, who'd kneel there and take it in the teeth with a nice big smile and bow their heads and do what they were told. He was building a whole new Seireitei, a new modality. That was one of the nice big words Aizen-taichou had taught him, back in the days when he was just a fresh-faced little brat with blood on his sword and a quick grin and Rangiku-chan nearby.
Weird how those days came back to him, more real than life was now.
Course, some nobles weren't going to get any chances. The Kuchiki clan, for one. He'd got maps of their lands all drawn up with dotted lines on them. Just wait, sooner or later he'd find a way of breaking their defenses, or get enough of their neighbours on his side, and then they'd be finding out what it meant to live in Rukongai. Or some of the weaker ones, like Ukitake's house. They were out of his reach for the moment. It wouldn't be that way forever.
But he'd be nice to their kids. He had a lovely plan for a whole new Academy. Aizen-taichou'd be proud of him. He'd make the trip to Hueco Mundo with a whole new group of his own shinigami, and --
The butterfly jerked between his fingers. He pulled.
The wings came off simultaneously. Now wasn't that curious?
He sighed, and brushed the writhing creature off his lap, knocking it to the floor. "All right," he told the waiting subordinate. "You can take --"
The double doors at the far end of his audience chamber swung open, and Misura, one of his more reliable servants, came dashing in and threw himself to his knees.
Well, now that was interesting. Normally they knew better than to disturb him. Might even be kinda important. "You got my attention, Misura," he said, ignoring the other man again. "What's the problem?"
"News, Ichimaru-soutaichou," Misura stammered. "We have news. We think it's about one of the people you want."
Gin rose to his feet. "Right. You'll be telling me this in private." No need to let the whole world hear it. The audience chamber was far too public.
"But, Ichimaru-soutaichou," the other man stammered, "the execution --"
Gin sighed. Couldn't anyone round here do their job? "I didn't order it," he said, nice and pleasantly, "so it ain't going to happen. Put him back in his cell till later. And tell him --" He thought. This sort of thing was important. "Tell him we captured a dozen people from his house trying to rescue him, so we're just torturing them first to get them to talk before we execute him. That oughta give him something to think about."
He prided himself on these little touches. They made life seem so much more interesting to other people.
"C'mon, Misura," he said. "And you, Kira. Let's hear the news."
Five minutes later, in Gin's private study, Misura was spilling it. How one of the patrols had reported seeing a "tall blonde woman, injured, being assisted by two others, a vice-captain's badge, a high level of reiatsu . . ." How the patrol had managed to trace their direction. How they hadn't been moving fast, probably because of the woman's injuries. How . . .
It all blended into a high singing blur in Gin's ears. From a distance, an oddly strange and precise distance, he could see that Misura was trembling where he knelt on the floor. He couldn't for the life of him understand why. He hadn't been so happy in months.
Who else could it be? Weren't as if there were that many women out there who looked anything like his Rangiku-chan. The reiatsu level just made it obvious. She might be trying to hide from him, but it'd all be different once he could explain things to her.
He began to whistle to himself, just imagining the scene. He'd put one arm around her shoulder, and she'd relax into him just the way she used to, and he'd look down into her breasts and say, "Rangiku-chan, this time there ain't nothing that's going to take you away from me --"
Oh wait. Yes. First he had to get her back from the Resistance. Stupid idiots, who'd just been that little bit too stupid. "Misura," he said. "Fetch me the maps of that sector, will ya? And have the men in that squad held for further questioning. I may want to ask a few more questions."
Misura sprang to his feet, a sweat of relief on his forehead. "Yes, Ichimaru-soutaichou!" he gasped, and fled.
"Maps, Ichimaru-sama?" Izuru asked.
He was a sweet boy, but Gin had to admit that when Aizen-taichou had adapted him, it hadn't made him any quicker-thinking. "Maps," Gin explained. "If Rangiku-chan's injured and moving slowly, then they can't have gone far. Odds are she's going to join the rest of the Resistance, not running away from them. After all, if she had been escaping them to be with me, she'd have stayed with my men, right?"
Izuru nodded solemnly. "Yes, Ichimaru-sama," he agreed.
"Which means it's likely that the Resistance has a base in the area," Gin went on. "And there's a few dozen of them, and they've got Ukitake with them, and he was hurt real bad, so they can't just be camping out."
For a moment, he'd enjoyed the thought of Rangiku-chan trying to escape them so she could be with him. It was a shame that it wasn't so. Poor girl, she just had to be deluded, thinking they even had a chance. He'd make sure she understood how things really were, once he had her again. He wouldn't even need Aizen-taichou's help this time.
Misura came running back in again with the maps. He deposited them on the table next to Gin, then went back down on his knees again, hunching in on himself like he was trying to make himself the smallest target possible.
Gin ignored him, and flipped through the maps till he'd found the one he wanted. "So here's where they were," he told Izuru, who was sitting up on his heels to look at it, "and here's the direction she was going in . . ."
He trailed a brush across the map thoughtfully. "And assuming they were going slow, here's about the furthest they could go in a day."
"No villages close to there, Ichimaru-sama," Izuru said, frowning at the map. "It would be a fairly safe area to hide in."
"Good boy, Izuru-kun," Gin agreed, and smiled at the happiness in Izuru's eyes. "And lookie right here. Just here." He pointed at a dot on the map. "It's a private estate. Right direction, feasible distance. Misura! Get up and come tell me about this one."
Misura hurried across to look. "That one -- it used to belong to the Nagato family, sir. They were a cadet branch of the Oomeda family. In trade, and an interest in Western goods. That was a private hunting preserve of theirs. They ended up going bankrupt and being absorbed back into the Oomeda family seventy or eighty years ago."
"So that one belongs to their house?" Gin asked.
"Only technically, sir," Misura said. He was real good at this sort of thing. Gin knew he'd been in Eighth and training under Ise Nanao before things . . . changed. He could be trusted to research stuff and get all the facts that Gin might want. "It wasn't close enough to central Seireitei to be any use to the Oomeda family. I believe they tried to sell it off but couldn't find a buyer, and they ended up mostly abandoning it."
Gin could feel himself smiling. "Well, well, well, don't this sound interesting. Misura, go ask that patrol a few more questions, and don't ya stop till you're sure of what they're saying or they get too broken to answer. Then go find me a couple of dozen reliable sorts. We'll be making a little excursion real soon."
Misura was sweating again. He nodded with desperate urgency, then ran from the room.
"Can I come, Ichimaru-sama?" Izuru asked hopefully.
"Course you can," Gin said, and petted his hair. "Don't you go thinking I'd leave you behind, Izuru-kun. You're real important to me."
Izuru blushed sweetly.
"Now you fetch me a Hell Butterfly," Gin instructed.
He had several minutes to plan his message before Izuru returned with the little fluttering creature, still in its cage. He didn't want to sound weak in front of Aizen-taichou. That'd be all sorts of wrong. But he wasn't going to mess things up for want of good men, either. After all, Ukitake might be ill, but he wasn't any sort of slouch, and there were at least a couple of vice-captains with him. Maybe more. It'd be easy to kill them, but Aizen-taichou would be wanting living prisoners. There just weren't enough sorts around who were strong enough to be useful to him.
He took the Hell Butterfly from Izuru, and raised it to his lips. "Aizen-taichou," he said. "I've got a line on Matsumoto and the Resistance, and I'll be heading out real soon to go follow it up. I'd be grateful if you could send a few people my way to help with the job. I'd be real grateful in particular for that experiment of yours who you said was doing so nicely. I'm thinking a little reunion may be just what's needed to tip the scales."
And he wouldn't mind seeing that particular experiment again himself. The very thought made him smile just like he'd smiled when he was a boy.
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