The Noble Sort

A/N: I'm not going to keep repeating all the earlier information. Everything pertinent was included in the Prologue and Chapter 1.

Except, I did have a question about the title from someone that reads this for me before I post and figured I would explain. "The Noble Sort" refers to Minako's mother, Arisu. Arisu means "the noble sort." It's referring to Minako's lineage as a shinigami and a woman.

I'm gonna give it till about chapter 6-if no one's interested on certain sites I'll probably pull the story. But if I do I'll make sure to post links in my profile to sites where there are actually readers. It does me no good to have to post to four alternate sites when there are only people interested at two of them. It takes an average of thirty minutes a site for editing and everything, and if no one is reading I'm wasting my own time.

Enjoy!

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"The Noble Sort"

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There was only pain.

She was so tired of waking up like this—how many times could it be now? Would it ever end? Was anyone looking for her? How long had she been here?

The strange woman approached again, and the feeling of wrongness intensified. She had never been so scared in her life, and this strange person was making the sheer terror she felt multiply.

"Awake, Minako-san?" the woman said liltingly, and she could swear she knew the voice, but it didn't belong to the woman, and no one with black hair. Another color was superimposing onto the black, but she shook her head and knew it just wasn't possible—wasn't feasible.

He raised something up into the air, and the harsh light glinted off of metal.

Her zanpakutou.

He slowly slid the blade out of the hilt, and she watched as he threw the hilt to the floor—that'smine,youbitch,mine—

A hand rested on her abdomen, and she felt a strange reiatsu building inside her. It made her itch, inside, and the burning was unbelievable. It felt like every organ she had had tightened up, had shriveled to make room for this new presence in her body.

The woman—man?—raised the blade above her, and before she could even contemplate the fact that he was going to stab her with her own blade, it was done.

She heard the whoosh of air a blade makes during the swing only after she felt it imbedded in her stomach.

Fire spread throughout her body as her nerves worked overtime, sending out the 'pain' signal. It hurt, it always hurt to be run through, but this felt worse.

She waited, not able to breathe due to the immense pain, to hear the sucking noise that came with pulling a sword out of someone's body. It was as if the body was pressurized, and removing the blade once it was in caused a release of pressure.

She never heard it; instead, she saw him push the blade in further.

She couldn't feel the slide of metal, at all, she could only see the blade continue to disappear into her body, until only the hilt was visible, and then it, too, disappeared.

After that, all she saw was red.

Minako sat up quickly, breathing harshly. The sheets were twisted around her body, her thick duvet thrown off the end of the bed entirely. Ruri or Kiri, one of them, was standing at the foot of the bed, prepared to jump down and seek safety somewhere else.

In the dim light that was filtering in from the hallway—one light always had to be on—she could see herself reflected in the large mirror across the room. She was flushed, sweaty, dark hair mussed and tangled.

Her eyes darted to the clock on the dresser; 3:42.

It was still very early.

Once she had calmed down enough that her legs weren't shaking, she slid out of the large bed and almost ran to the light switch, her body and mind begging for light to flood the room. Thank the Kami the man she had over early that evening—one of those types of friends—was long gone. It would've been a major problem for him to have seen her freak out.

Once light flooded the room she felt ten times better, as if the light coming from the small bulb could chase away not only the shadow but the memory itself. She knew it wasn't true, but that was always how it felt, as if the memories lurked in the corners with the shadow, waiting to grab her and pull her back into her own personal hell.

This is all their fault!

If they hadn't come back now, it would still be buried. She had gotten over this years ago, and she wasn't in the mood to have it dredged up just because of her uncle. This was her first dream in years, especially of that.

It had taken years of time, crying, and emotional fortitude to get over what had happened, to make peace with the situation and finally accept that this was her life now. And then in just a few hours, it had all been undone.

She was back at point A when she had been so far that point A wasn't even visible anymore.

It was maddening.

And the dreams—they had always been the worst. You couldn't control them like you could regular dreams, and the pain—the pain was like being there again. It was unbelievable that her body and mind could remember exactly how it felt, that first time, but it remembered every single sensation, right down to the numbness she had felt in her fingertips when the blade had been shoved into her body.

Her gaze shifted from unfocused to sharp, staring straight at her zanpakutou.

It was right there, mere feet away, stuffed between her bed and the small table in the corner. She rarely touched it, nowadays, unless someone wanted to do some sparring. Most days he let her know how unhappy he was about it, but thankfully the sword spirit had understood how broken she had been. How scared and angry she had felt.

She really owed the poor thing; perhaps once the three taichou sent after her were gone from the human realm she would take Hiyori or Lisa up on one of the many training invitations they kept giving her.

Then again, maybe not. It was never fun being the Visored punching bag.

She sighed, pushing off the wall she had been leaning against in her relief that the dark was gone, and made her way down the small hall, shaking hands trying to redo the now-sloppy ponytail. She must have been thrashing quite a bit to pull that much hair out of the elastic.

Sleep wouldn't be happening after that, something she knew well from the years where this was a common occurrence. If she tried to go back to bed she would only lay there staring at the ceiling and jumping at every noise she heard. The only thing she could do now was get a cup of tea and keep calm until she saw the guys at lunchtime.

Urahara had promised to explain the vague phone call, and she wanted all the information she could get.

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"Eh? Minako, you can't be serious?"

The slim Japanese woman slammed her hand down onto the table, rattling Shinji's cup.

"Of course I'm serious, baka! They just showed up yesterday." She was quiet for a moment, her hand supporting her chin with her elbow resting on the table.

"I'd just like to know why. I was under the impression everyone here had been forgotten. Other than the obvious, of course."

"Ah, Minako-san, according to our latest visitors, they were sent by Yamamoto-taichou himself. You are to be part of the defending force in the upcoming war against Aizen." Urahara grinned.

Her glare darkened.

"I don't fucking think so."

Both males stared at her, startled. She was not, usually, profane, although it had gotten worse during her time in the human realm. If she was dropping curse words in conversation, though, the situation was bothering her more than she was letting on.

"That wouldn't be all. It's never that simple with oji-san."

Her face lightened for a moment and she took on a demonic, mischievous expression. There was a freaky light in her eyes, and both men resisted the instinctual urge to back away.

"Although I would enjoy getting a hit in on Aizen. And Ichimaru. Always knew Sousuke was a slimy bastard; he's just proved it."

Shinji nodded.

"You're sure they didn't follow you, right, Urahara?"

"Of course, Minako-san. I would not have called you otherwise."

She nodded, her eyes losing focus as she stared off in thought. She wasn't 'gone' long before she nodded to herself, shoulder straightening and a new resolve lighting her eyes.

"Well, don't do it again unless necessary. Not that I don't like seeing you two," she grinned, "but I don't want them to get the slightest scent of me. I'll keep a low profile and stay out of contact until they give up."

"Not too eager to meet up with your former taichou?" Shinji said, needling her.

"I actually wouldn't mind seeing Kyouraku-taichou. But I'm not going back if I can help it. Not after all this time. What would be waiting for me—a jail cell? Execution?" She scoffed.

"Besides," she jerked her head at Urahara, "no matter what he's done, it's still not stable. I would be useless in a battle against the Arrancar. I could end up getting myself killed on accident just because I have no idea what I'm capable of. I don't know the limit."

"Only 'cause you haven't trained with it, dumbass," Shinji said, making a face at her.

"Not everyone can just out-train their problems," she shot back at him. "I'm not a Visored."

"Thank God," he muttered.

She felt the same way, although she wouldn't voice that opinion in front of the prickly blonde. All she needed was someone to overhear, like Hiyori, and then she would once again be a shinigami punching bag.

"Besides, I've tried. And twice was enough to get the point—I won't use it unless absolutely necessary."

"It might not get easier, Minako-san, but you might be able to…adjust to it," Urahara said liltingly.

"I don't want to get used to it. I'm trying to forget about it. I don't need Bankai anyway, not here. And there's no way I'll be able to be a shinigami again, so it doesn't matter. It's moot."

She glanced down at her watch and goggled at the time. It felt like they had only been sitting at the table minutes, but apparently lunch had taken them longer than she thought.

"Shit. I have to be at work in 45 minutes." She jumped up from the table, gathering the small pile of belongings that had dumped out of her purse at some point during their argument, and made to leave.

"Maa, why do ya work? So human."

"Because, Shinji," she snorted, "some of us are trying to blend in. Ba-ka."

She jogged out of the door, and they could hear her footsteps as she stomped down the metallic stairs that led to the warehouse's office.

"Wear your hair down!" Shinji shouted after her. "No one will ever know it's you then! You'll look decent!"

He shook his head, tsking at the woman that had just left. She was a pain, but at least she wasn't like the others. Normal shinigami. She had been a friend before, and she hadn't even blinked when she saw their new forms. She just took it all in stride.

She wasn't one of them, something the others made certain she knew—except Lisa, who was weird anyway—but she wasn't as bad. Like a lesser evil. And she was helpful when they needed certain things from the human world.

"They sent three taichou after her? Unbelievable."

Urahara grinned at him.

"I know. One would've been enough—she won't even consider going past the third gate."

"Ya think she'll show?"

"I imagine so." Urahara face darkened for a moment. "We will need all the power we can get."

"You didn't tell 'em where they could find her, did ya? She'll kick your ass if you did."

He feigned disbelief, something Shinji ignored. "Of course not!" He paused, whipping out his fan and fluttering in front of his face, letting the suspense build. "Although I might have given them a clue or two. It pays to seem useful."

Shinji snorted.

Suddenly, though, his body slumped, and he looked sheepish.

"Of course, I'm not sure how much help it will be. There are hundreds of stores she could be working at here, and she does still look the same. Mostly."

Both men stared at the table, lost in thought.

"Besides, according to what they have told me, she's not in trouble, exactly. I'm sure jii-jii is going to have a…few words…to say about her disappearance. But I don't think she's going to prison."

After a few moments, Shinji looked up slowly, his gaze resting on the other man.

"You think they need to know, then? I mean, if you're just handin' out hints and all…"

"It is not so much that I wish to see Minako-san captured, since we still cannot be sure they won't imprison her; they have been at the store for the past day and I have not told them where she was."

He paused, considering his statement.

"I think…I think Yamamoto-san needs to see the entirety of the situation—everything that has gone on the past century, much of which he had no—what he didn't know about," he said carefully. "Without all the information, I'm not sure we have a chance of winning this war."

Shinji nodded, a faraway look on his face.

"And I think she deserves the same chance we will all get in the end, the same chance Yoruichi-san and I have had—she should get to see the ones she left behind."

"An' if she doesn't get captured, you think she'll run. Afterwards," Shinji said, finally catching what Urahara was saying.

"Most likely. As will those she protects."

Shinji agreed with Urahara, at least on some level. It had been a sore point with the dozens of shinigami forced to live in the human world; many of them had people they missed. Many of them were upset about the fact that Aizen had always been seen as innocent and hard-working; Aizen had always been believed while all of them were considered untrustworthy. It didn't matter what he was accused of because, in the end, Central took his side.

If Central had known the Visoreds were only one of his experiments; if they only knew how many he had hurt and forced to defect—or die—to protect their secrets—but it still wouldn't have gone differently with Central presiding over Seireitei.

If Yamamoto only knew of those just as dangerous as Aizen, right under his nose all the time.

Yes, some of the time he had made sure it appeared he was in another place, creating an alibi for himself using his zanpakutou's powers. But if the command of a military eventually got so many complaints against a man, did they not have some sort of responsibility to investigate?

Even worse was the fact that each one of his experiments had been deemed "harmful" and were usually scheduled for execution or imprisonment. Just like the Visoreds. Central was not protecting its own in these cases, it was hushing up what had happened.

For years Shinji had wondered what made Aizen so much more believable than taichou, than other fuku-taichou, even than the sou-taichou's niece. Of course, he had no idea who had been the actual perpetrator—it was information Minako kept very secret—but everyone knew it had to be tied to Aizen somehow. Everything for the past century had been in some way.

He had finally decided that it wasn't Aizen's believability that was the problem, it was Central. Things seemed to have gotten better without Central operating—the past few times someone had been accused of treason, betrayal, etc. the sou-taichou had listened to the circumstances and made what seemed to be logical conclusions, even if his legendary anger had spiked at first.

Everything was easier without Central, although it placed all the power into one man's hands, which was not what they had wanted.

Still, Shinji didn't care; when the legal process in Seireitei was working, anything was an improvement. All he needed to back that statement up were the numerous shinigami hidden in the human world that had been failed by Central.

He was only one of over a dozen. And that was just what he knew of; he could only imagine the many he had never heard of.

And he knew that, no matter what else came out, Aizen was dead. But it wasn't fair that no one else understood everything, no one had pieced it all together and seen exactly how horrible the man had really been, how horrible many of the shinigami were.

If it took a well-placed word to get it taken care of, he would do it himself.

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She was twirling a long piece of black hair with her right hand, all of her focus on the voice coming through the phone. As soon as she had gotten home from work she began the tedious chore of calling back those who had left her voicemails, which could sometimes take hours. Not everyone lived in Japan anymore and time zones had to be taken into account.

She rarely called them nowadays. Ever since Aizen had put his plan into motion, they had all been jumpy about the slightest difference. Silence had seemed to be the best choice in this situation, the only way to protect everyone in case someone was found or captured.

It meant that they wouldn't all get caught.

Unfortunately, Shinji and Urahara were breaking all the rules, gallivanting around Karakura, talking to old friends, even letting shinigami see them. It wasn't something they were used to, this cavalier attitude about being found. Shinigami in the human world tended to be secretive, unseen, and hid in the background.

It was much more dangerous if they were found.

"You there, Minako?"

She 'hmm-ed' at the person on the line, and the voice immediately went back into the long story about their newest child, a small infant barely old enough to sit up.

So many of them had been exiled. Defected. Left.

Most of them had moved on, not even caring what went on in the shinigami world. Many of the defected shinigami she knew—the network was large and always in contact in some way, even during times of communication silence, especially with e-mail—had moved on, become human as far as their daily lives went.

Even she had to a point, although she was much more like Urahara, staying somewhat involved. Waiting and watching. Human on the outside, still shinigami inside.

She sat up quickly, a thought coming to her. She cut off the other person's story with a shout.

"What?"

"Rin, are you gonna get involved in this?"

"Um, no. I don't think so."

"Why not? Don't you feel the need to?"

There was a very loud laugh on the other end of the phone.

She didn't care that Rin was laughing about it, but she was genuinely curious. She had never asked her friend what her position on this whole situation was.

"No! They didn't care about me, I don't care about them. It won't affect me all the way over here for a while if he's successful anyway."

"Maybe," she muttered, her doubt obvious.

"You should've stayed here. Still don't understand why you moved back in the first place."

She had asked herself that same question a million times, but the answer was always the same: she didn't know why. Something had just told her it was time to go back to Japan.

"You're not thinking of getting involved, I hope?"

"I might not have a choice. And I think—I think I would anyway."

That was really what it boiled down to, in the end. The choice to stay out of the coming conflict might not even be something she got. And she might make the same decision if given that choice.

"You have a choice. You can leave whenever you want."

"And go where? There?"

"If you need to. We have enough room. I can always use a babysitter, you know."

They both laughed.

"Besides, Minako, I've got kids to think about now. Who'll raise these three, their father? I don't think so. He's worse than they are."

"You married him."

To be fair, they fit together well. It hadn't surprised her at all when they finally announced their marriage, although she had thought it was a bad idea to have two exiled shingami so close to each other. Especially with their situation.

And bringing kids into it? Sheesh.

"What about your husband? If he wanted to—"

"I would let him, of course. But he feels the same way. We're done with that life now."

They had all thought they had been forgotten, had moved on with their lives until the last few months. Until Aizen had to stir the pot and put the focus on those who had betrayed Seireitei or just left. With one betrayal came thoughts of those who had come before, something no exile wanted.

"What about the others?"

She snorted.

"Which ones? There are so many nowadays I can't keep up with them."

"Not the originals. Not even Urahara. Yours."

She stiffened then immediately relaxed, cautious about someone seeing her reaction even if she was alone. That was all she needed, shinigami finding out how the entire network operated. Then they would all fall apart.

"Some have already come forward. Three or four of them want to play a part, but most of the ones I keep in contact with are staying out of it. They're like you."

"Smart people—not the ones getting involved, of course, the ones steering clear of the mess. I imagine Akane's already made her enthusiasm for a fight obvious?"

"Of course," she said dryly, "she wouldn't miss a fight for the world, especially if she can cut through a swath of Hollow and shinigami. That would make her day. I'll have to watch her closely."

"Or you could just leave her be. Let her do her own thing. Get away from the situation."

"Eh."

"You should just leave. Let them handle their own problems."

"Yeah, probably," she said, although they both knew she wouldn't.

"I just—I have a bad feeling about all this. You really shouldn't get involved."

"You and me both," she said, her voice low and ominous.

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A/N: Japanese usage information (for words that haven't been used until this chapter):

Visored is Vizard, just as Kubo spelled it in the Character Book

Maa is an expression that doesn't have a true equivalent, but I think the meaning is somewhat evident