The Noble Sort

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

Enjoy!

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"The Noble Sort"

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"The table, Akane. I don't want to ruin the upholstery," she muttered before the woman finally took the hint and steered her away from the couch and to the massive dining room table.

Akane left her leaning against the wall as she moved all of the papers, files, even mugs from old tea off of the wooden surface. It was hard to manage but they finally got her up on the table, prostrate along its length. It would be good, though; the blood might stain but they could always re-paint it.

"Move the chairs, too. Don't ruin the cushions."

"You're in that bad a shape and you're worried about fabric?" Akane asked in disbelief as she pushed the chairs back.

"Do you know how long it took me to get some of this furniture? I work crap jobs, girl. This is years of stuff I've accumulated." She stared at the western-style table she was laying on. "Some it very expensive," she whined.

"Stop pouting. You're alive, aren't you?"

"Barely."

Akane snorted as she moved back to the table, jerking at the side zipper on the dress. It was a painful maneuver but they eventually were able to lift her up, bit by bit, and slip it down her legs. She ended up half naked and quite a bit chilly on the dining room table, blood all over.

"Ooh," Akane hissed as she saw the spot where Matsu has stabbed his short sword straight through her abdomen. "That looks bad."

"But it isn't the most painful, actually. The ribs," she said, hissing herself as she gingerly touched them with three long fingers, "they're worse. And one is scratching my lung, I think."

Akane leaned forward over her, hands out to prod the ribs and see which ones were in really bad shape, when they were interrupted by loud, frantic knocking on the front door. They looked at each other, both suspicious.

I think he brought you a healer, onna. Thank the Kami. The dog groaned in her mind. I'm in pain.

"It's 'Kibe. Answer it," she groaned, and the younger woman sped to the door. She heard her exclamation of surprise as she ushered two people in to the house, and even Minako felt shock take over when she saw who was with Sasakibe.

"Oh, Minako-dono. You're in quite a state, aren't you?" the wizened old servant said, already bustling to the table and checking her patient over from top to bottom.

Sasakibe, blushing beet red, turned in the doorway and made to move into the living room.

"What's wrong, 'Kibe? Not like you haven't seen it all before," she remarked wryly before hissing at the servant—now healer—as she prodded something very sore on her right leg. "Important bits are covered at least."

Akane smothered a giggle, but the man took the cue and stood by the door instead, arms crossed against his chest and his face still flushed.

"What injuries are you sure of, Minako-dono?"

"Run through here," she said, her hand coming up to barely touch the patch of reddened skin around the sword wound. "Broken ribs, right arm and leg are fractured, at least. Those are the important ones—everything is else is surface."

"Your eye and forehead?"

She rubbed the purple lump forming high on her face, wincing.

"He got me with his own. It'll be fine; he didn't break anything."

The woman nodded as her hands lit up a bright green, and she placed them over Minako's chest. The soothing healing reishi was immediately felt and Minako sighed, relaxing back onto the table; the only way she could be happier was if she wasn't laying in blood that was beginning to dry. She could hear Akane moving around in the kitchen, most likely making tea and something to give them after this was done and they were all settled.

"How did he break your arm, child? This is…unusual."

"His zanpakutou," she replied tiredly. "It used his reiatsu as a concussive force. It splintered a tree at one point. My mind was on forming the seals instead of getting up the speed to dodge him."

"A mistake in battle, Minako-dono?" She tsked. "Not like you."

Mistake, old woman? We were at our best!

Minako snorted.

"Not a mistake—he was just that powerful. His speed was awe-inspiring. I'm surprised I got past him as much as I did." She locked eyes with the older woman, sending her a soft smile. "Just be thankful Zero has to have release orders for bankai. I'd be toast otherwise."

"Perhaps," she murmured, still healing the worst of the injuries. "Would you find a blanket for her, Choujirou-san?"

The man nodded as he pushed off the wall, grateful to be given something to do and something that would get him out of the room for a moment. Minako gestured halfheartedly at the doorway that led to the hall and living room.

"There's a closet by the bathroom."

He was there and back much more quickly than he probably would have liked, and he unfolded the blanket and threw it over her legs and waist. Both women could see him fighting to pull it up to her shoulders—he always had been prudish—but he wouldn't take the chance of interfering with Hikaru's healing.

"Thanks," she said, her voice rough.

He nodded at her, and she could have sworn she saw the lines around his eye soften for just a moment before he was gone, this time taking up position in one of the chairs that had been pushed back against the wall.

Akane appeared not too long after, breaking the silence of the room with the clatter of the tea set.

"I've put some of those painkillers in one of these for you, sensei."

Minako gave her a grateful smile as Akane sat the cup of steaming tea where she could reach it before coming up to the head of the table and helping her bring up her shoulders and head enough that she could drink it. It slid down smoothly, even if it was hot enough to burn a little, and she sent the girl another look of thanks as she laid back, the drugs already flowing through her system.

"They don't take long," she said drowsily. "I'll be out soon."

Yes, sleep. My favorite pastime.

Don't we all know it, shishi.

Akane nodded, sitting another cup of tea down near Hikaru before moving out of her vision carrying two teacups, most likely for herself and Sasakibe.

The bright light above her was fading, as were the murmured sounds of the night outside. She let her heavy eyelids droop closed as the medicine took effect, rendering her unconscious.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I don't think it's a good idea, Hikaru-san. I can't drive Minako's stick shift monstrosity and mine has blood all over the passenger seat—some humans can see it just like they see ghosts." She took a sip of the steaming tea in front of her. "We'll have to wait until Minako can drive or go on the bus, which will be hard since you don't have a gigai."

The old woman frowned over the pot of steaming stew but didn't question it further. Most likely she had no idea what the difference between a stick shift and an automatic was.

"I guess, though—I mean if it's really important, I can throw something over the seat and go by myself. I need to go to my apartment anyway and get the last of my stuff."

"You are moving here, yes?"

She nodded.

"Good. Neither of you should be alone. How Minako-dono even lives without a cook and maid, I hardly know." There was a scowl on the older woman's face like Akane had never seen before.

"She learned," Akane said, smiling, "just like the rest of us."

She hopped up off the stool and wandered over to the small side table near the kitchen door, the only place Minako ever kept her keys, purse, and other sort of effects she might need when she left. She dug through the small red satchel that Minako had carried the night before, digging through all the junk and pulling out the black wallet, taking a fistful of yen out of it.

"Should you be doing that?" Hikaru-san asked, although the warning was evident in her tone.

"Minako pays for food. Pays for everything, just about. I can't really work right now. I temp…sometimes…" Hikaru shot her a questioning look. "Humans have identification numbers now. You can't work, get a house, even a bank account without it. Minako has four of them, though, so she keeps all her money in accounts and can work sometimes. She's an old pro at getting used numbers or applying for new ones."

"The one she's using right now," Akane said, laughter in her voice, "they think she's an American immigrant. She spun some story about coming over here with her boyfriend. She's going through the citizenship motions to keep the number active."

"It is so hard, then, living in exile?" the servant asked, and Akane could hear the concern for her sensei in the woman's voice.

It was different, really. For Akane, Minako had always been the strong one, the one who took care of everybody in her group on the network. She had never imagined how it must have been for her once upon a time, coming to a place without the support she once had.

"It can be," she admitted. "The first bit…you're scared, lonely, usually broke. That's when most exiles just—well, we don't have that problem anymore. There's always someone on the network that will help them. You get a gigai to hide, they help you learn how to get jobs that pay cash, find apartments with landlords that won't ask too many questions."

"Minako even helped me get into university, although I didn't finish. I'm not…I'm not good at all that education stuff." She sent a dazzling smile to the woman over the stove; she looked positively heartbroken at the idea of what her charge must have went through. "It's not that bad after. You make friends, get a job, learn when to move and how to survive. And if you do it right, you have connections everywhere."

Silence fell over the room—it was uncomfortable and tense.

"Minako traveled the world, did you know?" she asked whimsically.

"I didn't, no," the servant said softly.

"Everything is at her oji-san's somewhere—she took it last time—but she had souvenirs from everywhere. She spent the fifties and sixties in the States and Europe, traveled all over in the seventies, and the eighties here and in England. Even in the last two decades she's traveled—lived in the States, went to Africa, Australia, China, Brazil. She's been everywhere you could possibly think of. Said it kept her busy."

"I imagine. She was always a curious child."

"Really?" Akane asked as she moved to the stool again. She had only heard bits and pieces about her sensei's childhood, mostly from the woman herself. And it tended not to be good.

Groceries could wait.

"Very inquisitive. Into everything, always following her oji-san. Minako-dono knew she would be a shinigami from the moment she saw Genryuusai-dono use his shikai as a young girl."

The maid had a soft smile on her face as she stirred the stew absently, most likely remembering the young girl her sensei once was.

"I wouldn't know about that," Akane said playfully. "I've only heard the bad parts. And very few of those."

"There were hard times," Hikaru-san admitted, "Her father died when she was very young, and Arisu-dono—some women are just not made to handle young children. And Minako-dono was a spirited child. Kind, but always in trouble."

"Sensei says her mom was a right bitch, actually, but that they got along well later."

The older woman sent her a disapproving look at her profanity, but nodded.

"Arisu-dono was not a perfect mother, but she did what she could. It was very different; Minako was not…planned. And losing her husband was terribly hard on her—Minako has her mother's eyes but looks just like her father."

It was unspoken, but Akane got it. Her sensei's mother couldn't look at her own child without seeing her dead husband. And she hadn't been an exactly welcome intrusion in her parents' marriage, at least in some ways. She couldn't really understand it, but she could guess it would have been hard.

"But Genryuusai-dono doted on her. She was like his own child, and I must say I was much the same. It had been so long since either of us had been around children. I remember," the woman laughed; it was a gentle, tinkling sound unlike anything Akane had ever heard, "once, when she was maybe just old enough to begin consideration for the academy, that he gave her a doll of a female shinigami. She made it a wooden sword out of a stick and spent hours in the dojo pretending to train the little wooden zanpakutou. She was incredibly angry when Genryuusai-dono's students told her it would never work."

"Oh?"

"She kicked Shunsui-san in the shin and ran, screaming, into Genryuusai-dono's study. She was still much too young to begin at the academy—he was determined that she would not be a child prodigy—so he bought her a practice sword and let her watch as they trained so she could begin learning kata. It was not long before she bonded with her sword spirit."

Akane smiled.

It was hard to imagine her tough sensei as a little girl, but it was the obvious she had been, she knew, considering Minako was born in Seireitei.

The maid looked at her, suddenly serious, and pulled the stew off of the stove.

"He is not angry with her, but she has hurt him terribly. You must understand that," she pleaded, and Akane could see how much this woman loved the family she served.

"He's hurt her more than you can ever imagine. I don't feel the least bit sorry for him."

Her face was set in a scowl, her words hard and dark. She wasn't mad at the woman in front of her, but she felt that what he had done couldn't possibly be defended, not to someone who had seen what his manipulation had wrought.

"He does care for her, Akane-san."

"He doesn't show it well," she muttered, tracing the rim of her mug. "Has she ever been allowed to go for anything she wanted to accomplish? Has he ever just listened to her?"

"Rarely," she conceded. "He believes he knows best. Much of the time he does. Do not think I do not see what he has done to her; I was the one to comfort her when she came home from passing the taichou exam only to be told he would not let her even consider a promotion. There were other…considerations, yes, but he never told her of them."

"She knows."

They both heard the shower shut off in the bathroom. Hikaru turned to the stew and began ladling it into three bowls, moving to set them on the high counter.

"Akane-san," she said softly, whispering, "nothing good can come of their scheming. Minako is already too far in to ever let herself break free, but you—you do not have to be here when it all falls apart. I would be happiest if you would both abandon this course, but I know she will not."

"But I will be here," she said just as softly. "I owe her my life."

"I am afraid he will let both of you take the consequences, merely out of spite. I know she will not be immune to his wrath, but you could be."

"Let me worry about myself, Hikaru-san."

The woman sent her one more long, pleading look before sighing and moving to her own stool, climbing up gracefully.

They both heard Minako enter the kitchen, a pair of sleeping pants and a tank top hanging off her too-thin frame. Hikaru pursed her lips but said nothing. Akane gestured to the stew as her sensei climbed up on the last stool gingerly, wincing from the pain of jostling her injuries. They were healed but not fully; Hikaru wasn't a trained healer and was incapable of that level of control.

The servant could be right, she knew. He could let them take the fall for everything they had done and just be glad that another threat was out of the way. But she was there now, and she would be there until the end. She owed the battered woman next to her too much to just walk away now.

It wasn't like she had anything to lose anyway—other than the woman that was like a mother, sitting right next to her.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Well, then, Juu?" Shunsui said from his spot on the couch. Even Nanao looked up from her paperwork at his entrance.

"There was some sort of epic battle last night. The two teams that came back this morning for rotation were chattering about being blocked from an entire swath of downtown Karakura by a containment field."

Both men's eyes were sparkling; they were relishing the mystery.

"Perhaps," Shunsui murmured, "I should tell you what I found out, then." He pushed his sakkat up just enough to lock eyes with the man now sitting across from him. "Hikaru-san left late last night and hasn't been back since."

"Aa."

Nanao stared at them both, sitting in the office plotting and digging while she worked. Part of her wanted to be angry, but part of her was still, even all these years later, just happy they were still around to engage in this sort of behavior.

"Yoruichi-san perhaps, Shunsui?"

"No," Nanao said, drawing two sets of eyes. "They have their own healer. They wouldn't need the extra support." She moved the now-complete form in front of her to the outbox before picking up a new one from her to-do pile. "Besides—you're both forgetting the most important question."

"Oh, Nanao-chan?" her taichou drawled.

"Indeed, Nanao-san, I would like to know as well," the pale taichou said, shooting her a smile.

She looked up at them, her own eyes conveying exactly how stupid she thought they were being.

"Don't ask who she had to heal, ask who the shinigami she went to heal was fighting, that a containment field and a special release waiver was needed."

"How do you—"

"I'm not a taichou, Ukitake-taichou. People will talk to me that would never consider gossiping about the recent news with you." She raised an eyebrow at him before turning back to her paperwork. "I know that there are at least twenty members of the Twelfth that won't say anything about last night when they were fine spreading the news about Zero being monitored. And I know that the sou-taichou was in the Twelfth Division last night."

Both men just stared at her in shock.

Meanwhile, across Seireitei, the sou-taichou himself was meeting with a man he hated to see.

The leader of Zero—a tall, thin man with long black hair—was standing in front of his desk in his study. His eyes were burning holes in the older man's face; there was little doubt that he knew his fuku-taichou was dead. The body might never be found, but Yamamoto doubted there weren't other ways for him to know.

He wouldn't put tracking devices past them.

The man had been there early this morning, and the conspicuous absence of his maid had been noted very quickly. The sou-taichou had spun a story—it wasn't the first time such was required of him—but he was sure the Royal Guard in front of him did not believe a bit of it.

"You realize," he said as he fiddled with a stone statue on the front of the desk, "that I will know what happened sooner or later. If one of your men were involved, it would be better to just hand them over now."

"Don't assume we had any involvement in your fuku-taichou's disappearance," he said dryly.

"Death, Yamamoto, not disappearance. Matsuno is dead. Not only am I furious over his loss, I'm—worried, you could say. The idea that you have shinigami other than your taichou wandering around able to take out two of my men—it's unsettling."

He looked up, his eyes locking with the older man's.

"I would be very put out to learn that you had any involvement in this."

"You would dare," Yamamoto hissed, sitting forward in his chair.

"I will do what I must to find out exactly what is happening here under your very nose, yes."

"Perhaps you should keep such an eye on your own forces, then. Mine are well-behaved."

"Indeed," the Zero member said sarcastically, his eyebrows rising. "Did you not just fight a war against a traitor, Yamamoto? Or was I mistaken?"

"Aizen is not something you have to worry about anymore. He has been taken care of."

The man let the stone statue fall to desk roughly, and Yamamoto fought the urge to pull his zanpakutou and slice the man in half for his treatment of someone else's personal belongings. Instead he stood, leaning on his cane, and glared at the man in front of him.

"Is there anything else?"

"I don't think so." The man turned, his cloak coming up to cover his silver haori. He was out of sight, but his voice came in loud and clear. "But I imagine we'll see each other soon."

The door to the study opened and then shut quickly, and he sunk back into his chair, his remaining hand coming up to rub at his forehead.

One more. There was only one more.