The Noble Sort

A/N: As usual, all the important information is lurking in the notes of the first two parts.

Enjoy!

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"The Noble Sort"

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Two Weeks Later

Minako stood in front of the mirror, turning this way and that.

Her hands slid over her stomach—flat as usual, but she had never been able to get abdominals before. There had always been a little bit of roundness there and it was gone now. She had no boobs to speak of, no ass at all.

Huh.

You're not going to keel over, onna. You're not that thin.

She shot the dog a look.

She saw Akane appear in the doorway through the mirror, and she turned again, this time sideways. She hadn't noticed it before, and like shishi said, she felt fine. It couldn't be that big a difference if no one had said anything, right?

"How much do you think I weigh?"

Akane flopped down onto her bed.

"I dunno. Forty kilograms? A little less? It's not that bad, really, but you're probably seven or eight kilos underweight. Especially with your muscle mass. Hell, you're thinner than Yoruichi now—that's saying something."

"Hmm."

She stared at herself in the mirror, watching as her hand wrapped around the side of her waist.

"Is this what's been bothering you? 'Cause I've seen you in here doing this every day." She snorted. "At least you're eating something again, even if it isn't enough to keep your baka dog alive."

Hidaruma raised his head from the rug he had claimed and sent her a playful growl. Akane giggled back.

"No, not really," she murmured. "There are other things, too."

It was eating at her, true, but not for the reason Akane probably thought. And it wasn't her main concern. Hell, she wasn't even sure if she should tell Akane what was going down that night—the girl would be desperate to tag along if she did and right now she could just say she was going into work.

But if she didn't, and her fears were correct…it would be dangerous not to at least have her know what she was planning.

Matsu is Matsuno. Matsuno is Matsu.

This can't be real.

"I have a date, of sorts." The girl shot up on the bed, bouncing and full of excited astonishment.

"Really!" she exclaimed. "Finally going to give—getting over the other lover? I was wondering if you would ever even consider dating again!"

Get over him? Not fucking likely, considering. It had been three years since they spent one night together and she hadn't been on a real date since. Hell, she couldn't remember the last time she let a man take her home.

"It's not—it's not like that." She shook her head. It was still all too coincidental with what her mind had put together and it was worrying her terribly. "There was a guy…I told you about Matsu, right?" The girl's reflection nodded in the mirror. "Well, somehow he tracked me down. I should've known he wouldn't give up, but seriously. Waltzed right into work last weekend and demanded I meet him for dinner tonight to 'discuss things.'"

"And he's taking you out tonight? Like date taking you out?"

She nodded absently.

"I'm meeting him at a restaurant downtown at eight."

She wouldn't dare let him pick her up and find out where she lived.

"So you've been bitchy and antsy all week because of a date? That's usually a happy occasion, Minako, not something you prep for like, like—like you're going in front of the firing squad."

"I told him I didn't want anything to do with him, Akane," she forced through her teeth, "but typical Matsu, Mr. God's Gift to Women, thinks I must have just been in a mood. One day I'm gonna find out who started that whole PMS ruling women myth and kill them myself. I don't care if I have to search Hueco Mundo and Seireitei."

Akane nodded.

"So that's why…the…with the mirror and stuff? Worried the new thin Minako won't be quite up to snuff?" Akane narrowed her eyes at the mirror. "The missing boobs might be an issue, but guys tend to like them thin nowadays, right?"

Minako shrugged. There were other reasons, too.

Not that she was going to tell Akane she was more upset over what her subconscious lover, the one she had only been able to spend one night with, would think about her body. He had seemed quite happy before; maybe he didn't like his women this thin.

"Well, I have an awesome dress you can wear—or not!" she said quickly when her sensei shot her a look of loathing. "How about some nice, uh, sexy…black pants?"

The glare intensified.

"Look," Akane breathed out, "if you wanna be sexy, wear the dress. If you want to be all frumpy, wear your typical black pants. It's up to you." Akane pushed off of the bed, heading toward the hall, but she stopped and turned, shooting a saucy grin at her mentor. "If it was me, I would wear the dress. Knock him on his ass."

"I'm not a slut!" Minako shouted as the redhead disappeared down the hall.

"Doesn't mean you can't get laid! Might bring that stress level down!"

"Don't run too far, stupid girl! We gotta talk before I go!"

Sex, huh? Was she really that deprived of it? Did it really even matter?

Kami knows you need it, onna.

She sighed, her shoulders falling.

Not you, too.

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Matsu was late.

It was half past eight and she sitting at a table alone in a very nice restaurant, wearing a very nice yet obviously "advertising it" red dress. And heels. Spiky heels. She hated any type of heel that didn't come with a boot attached. They made her nervous of falling, of tripping, of having to fight in them.

But the fact that she had spent three hours getting ready and another half an hour figuring out how to fold her coat and carry it with Hidaruma hidden inside wasn't her main issue. Matsu was late. Matsu was never late, ever. She'd known him almost thirty years, and in that time frame he had only once been late and it had involved someone being in a horrific car accident.

She took a final sip of her water—with the uneasy feeling she'd had all day she wasn't about to drink—and signaled the waiter. She was leaving.

And, just like in the movies, he finally showed up.

He looked as unruffled as ever, perfect and poised. But he had been late, which meant something was definitely up.

And there they were, all the signs. Matsu was ambidextrous. He waxed his eyebrows—had always been more fastidious about them than she was about hers, even. And his thumb—it was going a mile a minute at his index finger, something she had noticed he tended to do when he was nervous.

Maybe it was real, then. Maybe her mind wasn't making things up.

"Minako, I'm so sorry," he said, ruffling his hands through his grey hair. "Would you mind—it's been a long day. I'd rather we just take a walk and talk about this. I'm not up for sitting here right now."

She shot him a look but gathered her purse and her coat quietly.

"It's nice to see you too," she muttered to his back as he turned to take care of the now-cancelled reservations.

She followed him out of the restaurant into the cool night air, but stopped at a nearby bench. She threw her coat and purse down and immediately dug through the red satchel for her phone. Her intuition was telling her she was right—her stomach was roiling now—and she had to make sure Akane was ready.

"I'm just going to call my roommate. Tell her plans have changed."

He nodded, although he looked somewhat suspicious.

Akane picked up after the second ring, her "moshi-moshi" bright and bubbly.

"Hey, our plans have changed. I won't be reachable at the restaurant anymore; my date had a bad day so we're going to take a walk instead. There's a park a little ways down," she pointed the direction out to Matsu and he nodded, "and we'll probably just head there."

She could literally hear Akane chewing on a finger nail.

"Sure. You gonna be late? Because if so I am not staying up to talk about the hot guy you were out with!"

Akane's laugh was clear in the night air and even Matsu cracked a smile. Hopefully it would be enough to convince him it was just a regular phone call.

"Probably. Might go back to his place for a while and talk if it gets too cold, you know?" She paused as Akane made a noise of agreement, then said slowly but lightly, "Leave the door unlocked for me?"

Akane went very quiet before forcing out a very solemn "sure."

She hung up the phone; the message had been received loud and clear. Akane would be downtown as soon as she possibly could, and the back-up would be welcomed. She probably wouldn't let her get involved in the fight, but the fact was she might have no choice.

She should have seen it earlier.

Matsu. Matsuno. He looked older, sure, but he had never aged like a normal man, either. And he had so easily accepted her excuses for her own appearance. And the kendo—bullshit. He had knocked her to the floor a few times. She should have fucking known.

But she had known. She had been sure enough of it that she told Akane that this might be what happened tonight, although she had made sure the girl knew her suspicion could be wrong. She had just ignored it in light of the fact that it was Matsu.

But now—with the late arrival, the tension she could see surrounding his eyes, all the signs, even his wary stance—she knew better.

She took a deep breath as she picked up her coat, making sure she had a good grip on Hidaruma, and turned to him calmly.

"Sorry."

"It's fine, Minako. But a roommate?" He laughed. "You once said you couldn't live with anyone, ever. Does she know your real name, or does she use this new alias of yours?"

"I don't have a roommate now," she said wryly, "she just kind of…moved in slowly. I find I'm too used to her to push her out. And she's young—she needed the help." She sent him a trembling grin. "And yes, she knows my real name."

He nodded.

They started toward the park. He was normal—as much as possible, anyway. And she was fighting down the panic that came from knowing she was walking next to the man that had raped her eighty years before.

Meanwhile, across town, Akane was panicking.

They had created the phrase years ago, even before she had truly hung around Minako. It was their patented trouble phrase; if you called someone in the network and told them to 'leave the door unlocked' it meant you were in deep shit and they needed to use the clues given to figure out where you were and come help.

She grabbed her keys and her own zanpakutou and ran to the car still clutching her phone in her hand.

She tossed Oogama into the passenger seat and jammed the keys into the ignition, revving the car and pulling out of the driveway at a breakneck pace. She dialed with one hand and drove with the other, literally shouting with joy when she heard Sasakibe's voice over the line.

"You know you're not supposed to use this unless it's an emergency," he hissed over the phone. She could hear someone talking in the background; he was obviously out somewhere.

Who would've known—even Sasakibe had a night life.

"Yeah, well," she snapped as she ran a light and got honked at, "it is a god-damned emergency! Last I knew Minako was going on a date with some guy she's known for decades. But I just got a call using the security phrase—for those of us who have never had to live life on the run, that means she's in deep shit."

"A date? Do you two ever work?"

"Will you stop focusing on that and focus on what I'm saying!" she shouted as she slammed her hand against the steering wheel.

"So she's trying to get out of a date. I'll admit I would never have expected it of her—"

"No, you moron. She's not trying to get out of a date. She went to meet up with someone she's known since the fucking eighties and she just gave me the security phrase that defected shinigami on the network use to call back-up for a battle! She warned me earlier that the time frame was right—"

"Oh. Oh, hell."

"Precisely, dumbass! Question is, which one is it? Nishiori or—oh, shit," she trailed off, finally realizing the significance of her sensei's date's name and the last name of the fuku-taichou of Zero.

"You know which one?"

"She was," she cleared her throat, trying to dislodge the lump of fear lodged there, "she was going to meet her ex-fiancé—"

"Ex-fiancé?"

"Shut up!" she shrieked, whipping the car around a corner. "She was going to meet her ex-fiancé, Matsu. Matsu, Sasakibe, as in Matsuno-fuku-taichou."

She heard something fall as he most likely tried to stand up too quickly.

"Where? I can't get a release waiver until I know where."

"A park downtown. I don't know the road—" she cut off as she screamed at someone in front of her driving too slowly, "but it's near the university. She said the restaurant was new and by the university so the park has to be near there because they were going to go for a fucking walk. My sensei is walking down a road with the fuku-taichou of Zero and has no way to release her reaitsu until you get that form to Twelfth," she cried hysterically.

"I'm already on my way. You just get there and make sure nothing goes wrong!"

She nodded before she realized he couldn't see it, then just hung up the phone and tossed it into the passenger seat with her zapakutou. She screamed at the cars in front of her—too damn slow!

She was going to be late, she just knew it.

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Sasakibe was literally flying through Seireitei, the shinigami he passed barely getting a glimpse of the fuku-taichou as he ran by.

He didn't even nod when he passed Kyouraku-taichou, Ukitake-taichou, and Ise-fuku-taichou, which was very unusual and worth comment as far as the group was concerned.

"Was that—"

"Indeed, Nanao-chan. Heading somewhere in quite the hurry, too."

Kyouraku's gaze met Ukitake's.

"Curiouser and curiouser, Shunsui," he said lightly, his eyes sparkling with a mischievous light.

"Hmm. Whatever Yama-jii is up to, it seems good."

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The park was quiet, the silvery light of the moon shining down on the new grass as they made their way down the path to a bench across from the playground.

Matsu had been very solemn throughout their walk. She wasn't sure, but it either meant he knew she knew or he was going to finally say something about it. Either way, they would end up fighting.

And Hidaruma was literally frothing at the mouth. It had taken all of her control to keep him from just attacking the man during the walk to the park. He had been screaming in her head on and off the entire time, ready to be unleashed so he could personally get revenge for what had been done to them. What had been done to her. But an angry shishi wasn't something to release on the general public—even around them, really. He could become very single-minded in his attempts and end up hurting a bystander.

Not that there were any around now, not at nine in the evening in a public park.

He gestured toward the approaching bench and she sat down gratefully—the shoes were starting to hurt her feet. It was the work of a moment to have them off, down on the ground next to her little red satchel purse, and Hidaruma safely nestled in her lap.

Matsu didn't sit; he paced in the grass about ten feet in front of her; it was a swordman's move. He was close enough to speak but far enough away to have warning if she decided to strike at him. But suddenly he stopped, pivoting on his heel to face her, his gaze boring into her own.

"How long have you known?" he asked tiredly, his hand ruffling his short grey hair.

"Known what?" she said carefully, trying to mask her tension with an air of ignorance.

"That I was a shinigami."

She exhaled shakily. So he was going to own up to it, then. At least part of it. The question was, how much of what came out of his mouth would be truth?

"I had my suspicions. Didn't really know until tonight, though." She cocked an eyebrow. "And you?"

He snorted.

"Obviously, I knew before I met you that night."

"And you felt you couldn't say anything?" she asked, cynicism dripping from her voice. "Like it would have mattered to me. Hell, it probably would have made things easier."

"Perhaps," he conceded. "But you know who I am now. Does it make it easier?"

She wrapped one of her arms around herself, trying to halt the shaking. At this point the night could go one of two ways, neither of which boded well for either of them.

"The fact that you're a shinigami?"

A dark look came over his face and he took a step toward her, his hands balling into fists. She could see the anger—something she had rarely seen from him—seeping into his body language.

"Don't play with me. It took me over a month to track you down, to prove you were alive. I'm not in the mood," he growled.

"You mean the fact that you're Zero-fuku-taichou? Do you think that would have mattered to me?" she asked as she slid Hidaruma from underneath her coat. There was no need to hide it now; most likely he had his own weapon on him and surely he knew she wouldn't meet him tonight without it. "Or do you mean the fact that you were involved in a series of experiments that ruined my life, killed at least six other shinigami, and trampled all over the laws you swore to uphold?"

He scoffed.

"Don't lecture me on the law, Minako. You don't deserve to."

"Perhaps not," she murmured.

"So, you know I was involved."

She nodded.

"Yet this is all I get? Some sarcastic words in a park? Yare, I bet Rashogen wishes he had been that lucky. Tell me, was he even worth killing?"

Her head shot up. There was a maniacal look in her eye. She had blown straight past infuriated.

"Of course he was! He was right there with the rest of you! What he wasn't—he didn't deserve Zero. And you had to have given him the promotion. That's what truly pissed me off, that a member of the elite fucking Zero was able to be dropped coming out of a gate by a former fuku-taichou!"

"Don't be so modest, Minako," he drawled, shaking his finger at her, "you're hardly at that level. We both know better. You were chosen because of your ability—at least own up to it."

He shot her a look full of inquiry.

"You have your sword. I know your oji-san is helping you carry out this little personal mission, which means there is a release order being taken care of as we speak. So it begs the question: why haven't you tried to kill me tonight?"

"The night's still young," she said darkly.

"You could've tried earlier. I've given you at least three openings tonight."

She sighed and lowered her head, her hair falling around her face. She made sure to keep him in her line of sight, but she allowed herself to take in the setting they had chosen as her mind raced. There wasn't really a way to explain why she hadn't taken the chances he had given her.

"I can't truly explain it. Part of me—part of me hoped you weren't him so badly. You—you—I almost married you. I think I had to know why…maybe what you were thinking when you approached me that night."

"You were a pretty girl in distress. I wasn't thinking with the right head," he gave a protracted little laugh, "You know me well enough to know that."

"Don't give me that bullshit!" she screamed as she jumped up from the bench, Hidaruma tightly clasped in her right hand. "Why would you—oh, Kami, I slept with my fucking rapist. I think I'm gonna be sick."

Her eyes darted around as her left hand came up to cover her mouth. There was nowhere for her to go to quell her stomach, though, so she forced it down.

"I didn't know you then," he said desperately.

She stared at him in disbelief.

"That makes it all better? You didn't know me so you felt it was okay to rape me. After all, what's one test subject, right? I would've either been killed, promoted, or defected. So it doesn't matter. But later!" she screamed, gesturing wildly with her sword. "Later, you knew! You knew and you let me—you had to have known what that would mean when I found out. No woman would take that well!"

"I was supposed to get close to you so I could eliminate you if you ever found out, not sleep with you. Unfortunately, things don't always go as planned."

"Really?" she said sarcastically. "I had never planned to be here at any given point in my life." She slowly raised her sword, the tip pointing directly at his chest. "But I am. And so are you. And for some reason I absolutely loathe the very sight of you but I can't bring myself to fucking kill you!"

She turned quickly, stabbing her sword in to the ground repeatedly, accentuating each thrust with a screamed profanity. The famous Yamamoto temper was surfacing.

"I could've killed you too, but I didn't! Doesn't that mean anything to you?" he pleaded. "As far as Nishiori knows I'm here to kill you—obviously I'm not planning to. Can't you accept that I could've possibly changed in the last eighty years?"

She jerked the sword from the ground and spun around again.

"No. No, I can't accept it. You don't get to change like that! You can't expect me to believe a little fling we had twenty years ago suddenly made you a good person!"

He was on her too quick for any retaliation, pushing her to the dew-soaked grass and covering her small frame with his own. One of his hands gripped her right wrist tightly, making sure she had no chance to stab him while they were this close to each other.

His eyes captured hers—all she could think about was that this man, this man she had once thought she loved, had raped her. Had taken advantage of her when she couldn't even mutter a protest.

"Fling? You kept the ring, didn't you?"

"Get off me," she growled as she bucked her hips, trying to throw him off her.

"Not until you listen to what I have to say." He slammed his forehead into hers, making bright splotches of light appear in her vision. "I was very different then—I didn't know you like I know you now. You think I'm some horrible person because I made a fucking mistake—"

"Mistake?" she screeched in protest.

"—decades ago. You became the only hope we had of that project succeeding—and it had to succeed. We were going to defeat Aizen one way or another, and if it meant we had to screw with a few of you we didn't care. We were doing our fucking jobs while the rest of you were ignoring his schemes."

"Rape is not like accidentally putting in a bad time-morph code, Matsu!"

Their noses were suddenly touching, his eyes so close she could see the fine lines of color in his irises.

"Yes, I took advantage of you. You want the full truth, then? Fine. I'll give it to you." He nipped at her chin, biting down just enough to leave teeth marks on the sensitive skin. "You pranced around your oji-san's house like you were ten times better than the rest of us, Zero or not. The perfect little shinigami brat, that's what they called you. So when they pointed out that you were taichou-level but would never make it, I fucking took advantage of it."

His chest was heaving now as adrenaline coursed through his body, but she couldn't breathe, couldn't move.

"It was pay back. Poor little Minako, so helpless strapped to that gurney. Definite role reversal for you, wasn't it? Does that make you feel better? If it had been anyone else, they would've been safe. But you, you little bitch, you had it coming."

"Get off me," she hissed again.

"What? Does this bring back memories, Minako? Does it scare you?" He licked her cheek. "Or does it bring up better memories, hmm? Vegas in '93? Me fucking you in the bathroom of Pyro when we went to London?"

"It pisses me off!" she spat.

"Well, you've been pissing me off for the last two centuries. So much better than the rest of us. Even when you were a defector, a fucking traitor! Even then you were too good for me, for any man. You threw it all back in my face." He chuckled dryly, his face twisting into a grimace. "Even threw that ring back at me after years of leading me on, letting me think that I might have had a chance with you."

"Thank the Kami for that bit of self-preservation!"

He reared back and pain bloomed in her stomach. Pushing her aside, he jumped to his feet.

"I won't fucking kill you. I don't think I could, either. But it's done. Over. You come after me or Nishiori again and I won't hesitate to make sure someone takes care of you." He turned back, looking at her over his shoulder. "Consider it payment for what I did."

"You don't get to decide that!" she shrieked as she rolled over in the grass and tried to climb onto her hands and knees. There was blood pooling beneath her, painting the green grass crimson, and she felt where he had run her through right above her hipbone. "It's not your decision!"

"Fuck off, Minako. Go home."

She jerked up, grabbing Hidaruma from the ground, and ran at him.