The Noble Sort

A/N: As usual, all the important information is lurking in the notes of the first two parts. From here on out we're AU, mostly at least. And this is the official beginning of the Second Arc of this story—Aizen is no longer the one we'll have to worry about. Time line is different now, too. I'll no longer use the final battle as a reference point every time. Instead, I'll just give the time that has elapsed since the previous chapter/scene/etc.

And time will be skipping rather regularly for a few chapters, so expect it to jump a lot.

Enjoy! R & R if you like!

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"The Noble Sort"

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"Do you tell me anything anymore?" the sou-taichou shouted at the room of officers, a vein in his wrinkled forehead throbbing from the pressure.

All he got in return were sheepish looks—and one very serene stare.

"Yama-jii—"

"No!" he said, slamming his cane down onto the tatami mat with a loud bang. "Quiet!"

Three taichou and two fuku-taichou watched as he inhaled and exhaled slowly, apparently repeating some sort of calming mantra. It had most likely been taught to him after the recent explosion in the First Division Headquarters over the missing haori; his temper had been burning bright for over a week now.

"Retsu, you and your fuku-taichou took off in the middle of the night—alone, I might add—to pick up a patient you knew I was searching for. You never informed my division of this. You did not inform the Second of this. You did not inform the Twelfth of this. You then proceeded to treat the patient and not inform me until this morning. Correct?"

The graceful female nodded her head slowly, her calm demeanor never slipping.

"And you, Shunsui, were found in your fuku-taichou's bed last night when you were invited to take part in the illicit activities Retsu had begun. This is after I specifically told you to quit seducing the female shinigami, to quit getting involved in matters that will only get you into trouble, to begin acting your age!"

"Hai, Yama-jii."

To give Kyouraku credit, though, he didn't look the least bit ashamed. In fact, he looked downright smug, as if the three things he had just been accused of were actually his goals in life.

"And you—irritating, backstabbing, useless imbecile that you are—my own student! You bedded my niece! Of all the ways to betray me, few are worse! I invited you into my home, allowed you to become part of my family, I trusted you with her safety and her happiness while she was here and you not only let her escape, you slept with her!" He opened his eyes menacingly and leaned in, resting his right arm on his cane. "I should burn you to a crisp where you stand, gaki."

To give Ukitake his due credit, he didn't run screaming from the room. Many males—and there had been quite a few in his position before, as Minako had not been a saint growing up—would have already done so.

"I—I," the poor sou-taichou looked almost apoplectic now, "I don't know what to do with you! You lose haori! Disobey orders! Rut your way through my female shinigami! And you three are the oldest, supposedly the wisest!"

Unfortunately, the old man seemed to just be getting warmed up. Breathing exercises, calming mantras, even soothing teas had all been abandoned in his fine fit of temper.

"And this is all on top of Central being reactivated with members I had no say in seating, Zero sniffing around documents in the library, and my own flesh and blood spinning me stories to the point that I no longer know what is up and what is down! I am out for two days—two days to recover from battle and losing an arm—and you all wreak havoc!"

He turned with a flourish, Sasakibe jumping out of his way at the last minute, and stalked from the room.

"What the hell is wrong with you people?"

His parting shot made the walls of the room vibrate with the boom of his voice, and the five occupants of the office stared at walls, furniture, and teacups—anything but the other occupants. For the three taichou, it had been a very long time since their leader had been truly mad. Even the Haori Incident two days ago didn't compare to this.

They were all in deep shit, and each one of them knew it.

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Five Weeks Later

"Good day, Ami-san, Hito-san," Isane said, a smile on her face and cheer evident in her voice.

"Isane-san." "Isane-san!"

She nodded at the two guards as she passed, going to the small desk opposite the door they guarded and picking up the previous night's log sheet.

Glancing through Iemura's work quickly, she saw that everything seemed to be in order. Not that she expected any differently; it just paid to be sure. She pulled out a fresh sheet and added it to the clipboard before moving to the small viewing window in the door between the guards.

"How is our patient today? Any change?"

"No, Isane-san," Hito-san replied, a small moue of disappointment forming on his very feminine face.

She just nodded absently, taking in Minako's positioning and making the same note she had made countless times before for the hour's check log: no change. It was the most upsetting statement to have to write nowadays, although she could remember a point when such a phrase would make her happy.

She moved to desk, propping her head on her hand and pretending to be engrossed in the medical log in front of her. To be honest, she was far away, lost in her own thoughts.

Minako had been unconscious for almost seven weeks now. They had done everything they could think of to help her recovery, but nothing seemed to work. Even Urahara—who had made a special trip to Seireitei just to consult for this case—had no advice. Her body was mostly healed, he allowed, but she wasn't. It made very little sense at first, but Isane was beginning to understand it now. Urahara had walked them through the previous attempts Minako had made at bankai, explaining in detail how she would always heal physically before waking sometime later. In his mind it was her spiritual pressure that was healing now, not her body.

Usually the spiritual pressure was the first thing they healed in a patient, but they had not been the first healers to see Minako. Part of her body had healed before her spiritual pressure, therefore eating up more of it. So her body was drained of pressure and taking its time rebuilding it. Which meant she was healing more slowly than they were used to.

And it made sense. But it was frustrating for everyone here that was waiting for her to wake up.

Nanao came by every evening, usually just to read to her for a few minutes. It made her feel better and, according to a book someone in the Eighth Division had brought back from the human world, people in this state could possibly hear what was going on around them. Isane thought it was also a form of catharsis for Nanao, who was facing losing one of the few people she had been close to. Again. So Nanao read.

Kyouraku-taichou was by every few days or so, sometimes more often and sometimes only once a week. He usually brought a vase full of flowers and just sat in her room, staring morosely at the bed. Nanao had confided in Isane that he was taking this extremely hard—if Minako should die, she was afraid he would somehow feel responsible for her death. He took the safety of his subordinates very seriously, and even though Minako was no longer in his division, Nanao said he still felt like she was. She was, in his mind, still partly his responsibility. So he worried, and he showed it the only way he knew.

Yamamoto-sou-taichou visited everyday with his fuku-taichou or his personal servant. He would bring clothing, linens that he thought she would prefer, or a picture to leave in her room. She had never truly thought of their commander as a caring person, but obviously he was, especially where his family was concerned. He was still gruff, still mostly silent, but there was a crack in the hard exterior now that she could see through. He had emotions. It was a different side of her commander, one that had disturbed her at first but now gave her a warm feeling every time she saw the older man in the hallway. Even he fell prey to the normal relationships they all had.

And Ukitake-taichou rarely missed a day, usually choosing to visit early in the morning or late in the evening when no one else was around. Isane never had the heart to see what went on when he visited. He looked bad enough when he arrived, and he always looked worse when he left. She had spoken to taichou about banning him from visiting, mainly due to the toll it was taking on his own health, but Unohana-taichou had taken her old friend's side and refused to tell him to stop coming.

And there was, of course, herself. Unohana-taichou, Iemura, and herself were there every day for some amount of time, usually during a slow period in the infirmary or when they thought they had an idea to add to the very large ledger of 'maybe it would work' suggestions.

Finally, there were the guards.

They were seated officers from the First Division, handpicked by the sou-taichou himself for this duty, and they were loyal to none but him. The five rotating guards were jovial but serious, always doing their job but never mean or resentful. She was grateful for it, although she hated the fact that they were necessary.

Unfortunately, though, they were.

They had all thought they were in for a bumpy few months when Aizen was defeated and Minako first located, but they truly had no idea how bad things would be. The sou-taichou was locked in a power struggle with the newly-formed Central while trying to figure out what had truly happened to his niece, Aizen was deep underground but still causing them all sorts of trouble, and Hollow were running around the human world like mad, no longer disciplined at all now that Hueco Mundo's power structure was dismantled. And they were still down three taichou; there was not a single fuku-taichou that felt up to a promotion and no candidates had come forward to be tested.

The only good that had come from the last few weeks was the truce that had been called between the three taichou and the sou-taichou. Isane wasn't sure exactly what had happened, but they were tentatively okay at the present moment—which really only meant they were no longer being yelled at. He was still glaring somewhat fiercely when Kyouraku-taichou and Ukitake-taichou were in his general vicinity.

Now if her patient would just wake up, perhaps they could all get out of this limbo they were living in and focus on the other problems Aizen had brought on.

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Floating.

She was floating.

But everything was solid, which was weird—air shouldn't be solid. She couldn't breathe it, couldn't taste it, but she could feel it.

She wasn't dying from it, though, so she didn't worry about it.

The shishi was lolling in a grey zone a few meters away, his tongue hanging out and his head flopped back at a weird angle. They were able to communicate but only just, which was also disarming. She couldn't remember a time, now, when they weren't able to read each other's thoughts.

Each day the air became even more solid, thick and viscous and opaque, surrounding her like a nasty form of clear Jell-o. She hated Jell-o. She definitely did not like the idea of being in one very large Jell-o shot, especially when there was no booze to make it a party.

There were flashes of color, too, although they were mostly gone.

Color was bad.

Color was evil.

Color was pain.

Every once in a while there was a sparkle in the ooze that surrounded them, and they had learned early on that the sparkles were fun.

The sparkles brought voices. The blue were Nanao, usually reading. Not that they really listened. Reading was fun, yes, but only if you actually had the book if front of you. The human contact was nice, though. And she had a pretty voice, as shishi had pointed out, at least she did when she wasn't yelling at someone.

The pink were her taichou, scents of roses and sake. If he spoke, the sparkles didn't let them hear it.

The purple were Gen-oji-san, usually berating her and trying to ask her questions, as if the ooze would let her speak and answer him. But once, a purple sparkle had brought a definite sensation of comfort that was not made for a hospital, soft silky sheets and a decent pillow, so they continued to go after them just in case. Besides, it was like teasing him. They could hear him but he didn't know it. It was like eavesdropping.

The—lavender, maybe?—were the medical team, which they both hated and no longer touched. It had been nice to hear Isane gossiping about Nanao and Kyouraku-taichou, but getting poked in the arm was still painful even in a gelatinous bubble of goop.

But the red ones—they were her favorite. Shishi would wheeze and run from them while she paddled through the goop to get to them. They were Ukitake-taichou, usually his voice, and they never failed to cheer her up. Most of the time he just told her what had gone on that day, or some little anecdote. Occasionally he would relate what he was writing in his children's stories. It never failed to give her a little boost, just getting to hear his voice. He talked more than he had when they were actually spending every day together.

Although…

She was woman enough to admit she was a bit put out.

The bastard—she realized this now, after having plenty of time to think about it—had gotten her to say the three little words anyone in a relationship or even considering a relationship feared and had not said them back! This was precisely what she had wanted to avoid!

Bitchy Minako would be coming out if she ever gained consciousness again, that was for sure. These shinigami had gone too long without a good chewing.

Her oji-san didn't nibble on them enough, apparently.

But the wishing sparkles—obviously not real since she wasn't anywhere near Seireitei—and thinking, and even swimming through goop could only keep you entertained so long, something Minako learned early on. Time didn't pass normally here, although she was sure it had been quite a while, and boredom was her archenemy nowadays.

"Shishi!"

She sounded like the teacher from Peanuts.

The black dog looked back at her, making a funny face.

She tried to wave a hand at him, beckoning him to her, but it didn't work. Instead she got five shadow hands and what felt like the view from a very bad acid trip.

Not that she had ever done that.

She sighed in the goop, which was always an interesting experience. And hoped she didn't remember this later.

Altogether, though, even with the bad acid trip-like view, it was like a womb. Warm. Fluid-y. Nurturing. If she had to guess, she was overdue by at least a week.

And her brain was melting.

This entire in-between world she inhabited was a riddle wrapped in an enigma and loaded with craziness, and she was ready to leave it.

Anytime now.

Anytime.

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Iemura couldn't believe what he saw when the nineteen-hundred check came around.

Yamamoto-san hadn't moved herself in the weeks she'd been here. They had moved her, but she always rested in the position they left her in.

But now—she was on her stomach, an arm hanging off the medical bed and her pillow tossed to the ground.

The clipboard was tossed onto the desk as he ran down the hallway, eager to report the development to Unohana-taichou.

The guards just watched, smirking. They had already made their own report.

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"Minako-san."

The gloop was gone.

This was a good thing, really, except she was incredibly tired and someone was poking her arm, moving her wrist about, and trying to wake her up. They obviously had no idea she was ill—or they just didn't care.

And something was…off. Badly.

"Minako-san." Whomever it was, they were somewhat amused at her attempts to block out the light of the room she was in. "I'm sorry, but it is time to wake up now."

Please, onna, tell her to shut the hell up.

She definitely agreed with him. Unfortunately, telling her to shut up meant actually having to wake up, at which point there would be questions and examinations and tons of stuff she didn't feel like dealing with right now.

She forced her body to use a large portion of the small amount of energy it had to flail her left arm about, getting the person holding her wrist to let go, and she promptly rolled over.

Ugh. Now the light was really shining behind her eyelids.

"Minako."

Fuck.

She knew that tone anywhere—oji-san.

Finally giving up the battle, she cracked an eyelid open to stare at the man standing beside the bed. He looked tired, and he was missing his left arm. But he was alive, gloriously alive, which meant he had come through the battle. She felt joy rising up in her and tamped it down; she didn't have the energy for emotion right now.

She rolled once more, this time onto her back, and squinted and blinked as the light caught her very sensitive eyes.

"I'm awake, damn it."

Unohana-taichou was there, smiling, and she finally realized what was wrong with this whole scene. Oji-san. Unohana-taichou. Unless many of the top shinigmai in Seireitei had suddenly decided a change in career was the thing for them, something had gone wrong while she was sleeping the just sleep of the ill. Which they woke her from.

"You guys aren't monks," she rasped, and she felt sure that she could cheerfully give Unohana-taichou the entire contents of her bank account for the glass of water that was brought to her lips. Her throat felt drier than a desert in August.

"Monks?" she heard her uncle ask, and she was sure he already knew what she meant. Unfortunately there was no witty reply forthcoming; thinking felt like glass shards ripping through the mush that was her brain right now.

She eyeballed the pretty healer leaning over her.

"Something stronger? Sake? Whiskey?"

Unohana-taichou shook her head, smiling.

"I do not believe that is wise, Minako-san. It will be days before you can even eat solid food, much less consume alcohol."

Well, shit.

She shook her head once. She had a headache but thinking was becoming easier.

She pushed up on her very weak arms, feeling the muscle spasm and tremble, and propped herself up against whatever was behind her. She couldn't tell if it was a wall or a headboard, and she really didn't care right now. If she was gonna face down shinigami, she needed to be alert and at least appear to be somewhat physically capable. They didn't have to know she was weaker than a string bean right now.

"How did I get here?" she asked, her voice still raspy from disuse. "Last I knew Aka—someone was helping me to the monks."

"They were unable to fully treat you, Minako-san. They contacted me and I took over your treatment almost six weeks ago."

She'd probably been out a month and a half then, almost two months. Good god that was a long time, although not surprising. The transformation was the worst she had ever been through. At one point she was sure she had asked Akane to just go ahead and kill her, put her out of her misery.

But there were more pressing things to worry about.

"The—the battle?" she gasped as Unohana-taichou's reiatsu began floating through her body, examining her internal organs. Her eyes flew to her uncle. "I know he was defeated—"

"Aizen is harmless. Secured deep underground. Our casualties were amazingly minimal."

She nodded at him, but her gaze flicked to his missing arm twice before she could really allow herself to meet his gaze. The casualties might have been minimal but it looked like there were wounds that would not be healing anytime soon, if ever. And if oji-san was this badly maimed, she could only imagine some of the other shinigami that had gone in with him. Like Juushirou...

"I am alive, Minako. It is more than I thought possible."

She just nodded again. It was true; they were both sure they wouldn't live through the battle at all. The loss of his left arm was paltry in comparison to losing his life.

Or his right arm. He's right-handed, onna.

True.

"Was anyone—" she paused. However she said this it would sound bad, as if those who did die weren't important, but she had to know, had to ask. "Anyone I know?"

"I don't believe so," he said dryly.

She gave a sigh of relief but winced as well. It was callous of her to be so happy none of her friends had died when there were casualties that mattered; she knew it but it didn't matter at the moment.

"Well?"

She opened and closed her mouth in confusion before realizing he was no longer speaking to her.

"Everything seems to be healing very well." The reiatsu Unohana-taichou had been feeding into her body had stopped. "Her energy level is extremely low, but that will only change now that she can actually sleep and get more nourishment than the liquids we've been giving her."

"Sleep sounds like a really good idea," she said tiredly.

Unohana-taichou nodded once but her uncle, always the buzz-kill, tapped his cane on the floor.

"We have some things to discuss first." He cleared his throat. "Thank you, Retsu."

The healer didn't argue although she looked like she was two seconds from pulling out her scary face. Not even her uncle was immune, she knew, but their dynamic seemed off. Instead, the healer quietly bowed and left the room, securing the door behind her.

He sighed angrily, something only octogenarians could pull off; it was the sound of an old man getting ready to kick some misbehaving children out of his yard.

"You have a great deal of explaining to do."

Lucy, you have some 'splaining to do!

She fought it. Truly she did. But she felt her lips curling up into a shit-eating grin that wouldn't go away no matter what. Shishi was never, ever watching television again.

"What do you find funny, gaki?" he said threateningly, and she allowed her hair to fell forward, hoping her hair would hide her face. It didn't happen; she could see dark brown on both sides—and fucking bangs!—but it was not nearly as long as it had been.

"What the hell happened to my hair?" she shrieked, immediately regretting it when her poor throat started stinging.

"Who cares?" he asked wryly, his eyes now glittering. Her smile was gone and he seemed very pleased about it. "How many lies have you told me, Minako?"

Fuck.

She looked up at him, plastering the most innocent expression possible on her face. She knew it wouldn't work, it never did with oji-san. Usually she just looked like a guilty child, not an innocent one.

"Lies?" Her voice was the epitome of innocent naiveté, though, and she was proud of it. "I haven't lied to you at all, Gen-oji-san."

"Really."

"Why would I lie to you, oji-san?" She fluttered her eyelashes at him. But oh, this was taking more energy than she thought possible, and she was tired. "I have no reason to lie to you about anything."

"So Choujirou, my most loyal shinigami, lied to me."

Damn it all to hell.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

He just stared at her, apparently sizing her up. Then, with two taps of his cane on the hard floor of the infirmary, Sasakibe was hurrying through the door, coming to stand next to his taichou. The poor man looked harried. But his expression immediately changed once he saw her—fear was in his eyes again and it made her sick. Like she was gonna jump out of the bed and turn into flame and burn him to a crisp.

Did he not realize she could do that with her zanpakutou?

"Do I need to have him repeat everything the traitor said?"

"You would believe Aizen before me, your niece, your very own flesh and blood?" She tried to conjure some fake tears but it didn't work. She apparently didn't even have the energy to pull that off.

"I believe my fuku-taichou."

"But—but it was Aizen! Did you ever think he was just trying to—"

"Yamamoto Minako." She cringed, her shoulders suddenly becoming very familiar with her neck. That voice still gave her the chills. "Now."

This was it. From here she had two choices, neither of which were very good for her future. On the one hand, she could tell him the entire truth. He would be immediately embroiled in Kami only knew what type of power struggle with Zero and she would be at fault. Or she refused to say anything about it, which meant he would be on her case until she could break out again. Unfortunately, refusal probably meant a cell and guards and lots of things to keep her from breaking out again. Or a house and guards and lots of things to keep her from breaking out again. Or being chained to him to keep her from breaking out again.

Decisions, decisions.

Eventually she sighed, letting her shoulders slump before she looked back up at him. The truth would be disastrous, but there were few options available at the moment.

"I never lied to you, Gen-oji-san. You just didn't listen, as usual."

He raised his eyebrows.

"I never said Aizen raped me, I said he was involved. I never directly said he did it, any of it—even the experiments. As a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure I told one of your lap dogs that Aizen was definitely not the one that did it." She took a deep breath. "If you chose to misinterpret what I said, that's not my fault."

"Omission is the same to me. You've known that since before you could pick up a sword."

She shrugged, shooting him a look.

"And? As if I've played by your rules. I'm an adult. I don't have to follow your rules anymore." She sucked her teeth, raising her eyebrows at the look of fury that came across his face. "I told you what you needed to know. It's what you do—I learned from the best, apparently."

"You obstinate, impudent—"

"Fuck Off, Oji-san."

The force he suddenly exerted on the room was mind-numbing, lung-crushing, but she didn't sway. She wasn't some two-bit shinigami that couldn't handle a little reiatsu. And this—this was one of the oldest tricks in oji-san's big book of child-rearing. If he thought that was going to make her comply, well, he was wrong.

Sasakibe looked like he was ready to jump between the two of them and break up any potential fight, but she wasn't going to let it disintegrate that far. She twisted in the bed, swinging her legs over the side even as he continued leaking reiatsu all over the place.

"When can I leave?" she asked dryly, moving to stand.

She never got to.

His remaining arm dropped his cane and came crashing down onto her left shoulder, smashing her into the gurney and holding her stationary. His grip was tight and bruising; she wasn't going anywhere at the moment.

"You don't get to leave."

"Oh?" She looked up at him, her anger evident. "Are Urahara and Yoruichi here, too? Shinji? Lisa? Have they all been confined? If so, then take me to them. If not, I assume you let them go after the fight. If they get to be free, so do I."

"You will not be leaving this room." She felt him slowly reign in his reiatsu as he pushed her backwards and sideways, obviously trying to get her back on the gurney. "I have guards outside. You're not leaving until we get to the bottom of this."

She shrieked and flung her arm at his, knocking his hand off her shoulder.

"I can't talk to you when you get like this—you won't listen to reason!" She threw her arms up into the air as she settled back down on the gurney. She probably looked like a pouting child, but she didn't care too much at the moment. "Whatever. I'm done. I'm going to get some sleep. I would appreciate it if you'd leave."

She saw a weird expression come over his face out of the corner of her eye, but continued pouting. He had called his cane back to him—that had always amazed her—and was now leaning on it, staring her down.

"My lap dogs, hm?" He smirked. She felt her very soul grow cold; oji-san smirking was never, ever good. People usually died. As a child, it had been enough the first time to throw her into hysterics. "How could you possibly think it was a good idea to sleep with one of my students?"

Fuuuuck.

Nicely said, onna. You're toast.

"How do you—never mind." She let her head fall into her hands. "I'm NOT discussing my sex life with you."

"Do you have so little integrity? You'll chew that boy up and spit him out." A forbidding look came over his face. "I won't allow you to turn him into one of your conquests, Minako. Leave him alone."

"Yes, because I couldn't possibly care about him," she said, her voice literally dripping with sarcasm. "He's a big boy, Gen-oji-san. All grown up. He can make his own decisions. He hasn't needed you to hold his hands for a thousand years now."

"Leave him alone."

"What about me? Do I warrant any concern?"

"Minako. You will heed my order and leave him alone."

A light bulb suddenly burned bright in her head. Oji-san was incredibly protective of his students. They were like sons to him, almost closer to him than she was. He would do anything for them, including, perhaps, make a deal with her.

It would mean that whatever she had found with the pale taichou of the Thirteenth Division would be over, but her emotions had to take a backseat in this. More was at stake than her love life here. Her freedom, hell, her very life could be in danger if she didn't play this right. She gave him a considering look. If she bargained right, she could get out of here. She would give him up to keep her uncle safe, she knew she would. And in the end she'd also be keeping him safe; he would follow Oji-san wherever he went. Ultimately, that mattered more than trying to have a relationship with him.

Besides, she had told him her feelings but not once in the one night they had shared had he ever given her evidence that he reciprocated. He had said he cared—that could mean anything. People cared about people all the time without actually—she could barely even think the word—loving them. He was going into battle; he could have wanted one last good night before it. She really had no idea what had motivated him.

They hadn't really talked a lot that night.

Oh- you are so deep in denial it's not even funny any—

Shut it, Hidaruma.

"I'll leave him alone. Won't see him again, if you want. I'll even connect some of the dots—I know you're wondering about what I left you." He looked happy, nodding at her as his eyes slipped closed again. "But you have to let me go."

And there they were again.

"What?" he said, his voice soft and low and dangerous.

"Let me go. I have someone you can call to take me home." She raised her eyebrows, smirking at him. "And I'll never touch your precious Ukitake-taichou again. You get everything you want and I get to leave."

"If you do this—"

"I know; I won't be coming back. But I won't end up on the chopping block either. If I stay my life expectancy can be measured in days when they find out I'm here and alive and not being followed by taichou every minute of the day."

She crossed her arms, leaning back on the bed and staring at him as he shot her a weird look.

"Very well."

"You'll drop all of this? Let me go? All of it—if I promise to leave him alone?" she asked, disbelieving.

He nodded once.

In for a penny…

"I promise."

…in for a pound.

"You'll be gone before the afternoon is up."

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A/N: For those of you who hate to read between the lines, there is obviously more going on here than just an argument about her having screwed Ukitake. It will all come out later, I promise. Until then you can ponder what they're really talking about; there are hints in there!

And R & R!