It was only to be a day's journey from Las Noches to the portal back to Soul Society, but so far, the rip in the sky hadn't shown itself to the troop of fourteen shinigami that crossed the sands of Hueco Mundo's desert.

There were also four prisoners shackled between the six Division Two guardsmen. Their hands were clapped before them in stocks, chained to the men in front and behind each of them, spiritual powers sealed.

Rangiku Matsumoto hadn't looked at them much, particularly at him, since they'd left the Las Noches compound the night before, and she had no plans to any time in the foreseeable future. Not after the last three months.

She pushed her strawberry blonde hair from her face as the desert's hot breeze threw it into her view. She hated what the dry air did to her skin, her hair, her lungs.

But that was where Sousuke Aizen had set up headquarters in a war that was to take down Soul Society and destroy much of the World of the Living in the process. It was a war that he'd lost, despite his careful planning, and as a consequence, he was one of the men lashed to the others ahead of her.

"You'd think we'd be there by now," Shuuhei Hisagi said, suddenly at her side.

She nodded, sighing. "You'd think."

They'd broken ranks long ago, the jagged line of captains and vice-captains straggled out over the desert's non path. Only the guardsmen, headed by Soi Fon, kept tightly bunched together on either end of the four prisoners.

She saw Hisagi's eyes go to the darkest man of the four bound men. She watched the man at her side for moment, wondering what went through his mind since the former captain of Division Nine's defection. She didn't ask.

"I don't know why we're taking them back for a trial," he finally said, his eyes narrowing as they roamed over the prisoners.

"Simple. They weren't killed in battle." Her voice had an edge he'd seen exhibited more lately. "They'll be executed at Soul Society. Just procedure, Hisagi."

They walked in silence for a long while, the sand dragging at their steps, hot air parching their lips. Injuries to the shinigami were minimal, consisting of mostly bandage wounds that were treated on the spot. There'd been a few pockets of confused, lower-ranking Arrancar, enough to keep the shinigami alert, but they were quickly disposed of. Matsumoto had heard the whispers from Ikkaku -- who rarely whispered anything -- that it appeared someone had shut off the alarms to warn Aizen of their arrival, making near total surprise possible.

Her eyes settled on the second from the last form in the line of prisoners, clothed in a dusty white hakama and kendo shirt, minus his lieutenant's coat now. He looked thinner to her, not by much, not enough for anyone else to notice, but she knew him -- knew everything about Gin Ichimaru -- and she knew his form was slighter.

At least, she thought she'd known him. Maybe she really was just like all the rest. Ignorant. Deceived.

She'd been prepared for his death, whether in battle or by the hand of some rabid Arrancar. She hadn't prepared for this.

"I didn't expect him to be alive," she said quietly.

Hisagi looked to her, followed her gaze to the stooped white-haired figure six men ahead of them, between guardsmen and shinigami. Her voice was softer now.

"I was ready for him to be dead," she added, licking her dry lips.

"You never know, in war," he said, for lack of knowing what else to say.

Ahead of them Gin turned his head slightly to look back, past the Espada chained behind him, to see the female shinigami trailing. The guardsmen behind him jammed his staff in his shoulder blade, and then again when it brought no response from the prisoner. Gin turned back around.

Matsumoto hadn't met his eyes. Nor did she plan to. She moved nearer to Hisagi so that Gin was blocked from her view by Ikkaku Madarame who followed behind the guardsmen.

Also in the group was Izuru Kira, Renji Abarai, Kenpachi Zaraki, and Toshirou Hitsugaya, but the shinigami followed in casual order, formalities broken within the last forty-eight hours, seated and lieutenants separated from their superiors. Hitsugaya led them, his form small beside Zaraki at the forefront.

"I heard he didn't put a fight," Hisagi said suddenly.

Matsumoto nodded, the sun beating down on them from the cloudless skies. She knew he wasn't talking about Tousen, who had stood on his honorable sense of justice for personal reasons, nor was he speaking of Aizen, who'd gone down until he was bloody.

"Didn't even draw his sword," Hisagi added. His eyes frowned at his former captain ahead of them. "He followed willingly. Hallucinations don't work on a blind man."

"Do you think they'll be executed soon?"

"I don't see why not. Everyone knows they're guilty."

She nodded.

He sighed. "You know how much paperwork this is going to be?"

She smiled at his attempt at humor. "You're acting captain now, Shuuhei. Delegate it out."

He groaned. "To who?"

By nightfall in Soul Society, only a few hours after the troop of shinigami had returned from Hueco Mundo, the rumors were already beginning. Most were about the date of the executions. Some were about degrees of guilt, others -- mostly ones started among the Twelfth Division members -- centered around the lone Espada who had survived the assault on the compound at Las Noches.

Matsumoto ignored most of the rumors, picking and choosing from those she found most likely to be carried out. She decided Aizen would be executed; Tousen also, seeing as he'd been only too eager to tout his vengeance on what he saw as a cause worthy of mutiny.

She sat at her desk in the Tenth Division office, divided from her captain's office by a double-thick layer of rice paper wall. She leaned her elbow on the desk, her chin in her palm, sitting in the semi-darkness, looking to Hitsugaya's shadow on the division as he worked at his desk in the light of a lamp. She was tempted to stand on tip-toe, peek over the wall at him. But he hated that, and she'd only done it once. Now she always peeked at him from around the corner.

"If you want to talk, come on over," he said after a few minutes. "I can feel you lurking, Matsumoto."

She sighed. Captain sensory perception, she'd learned to call it. She looked down at the small stack of paperwork before her. The return troop had been given two hours of free time for personal issues upon returning to Soul Society, and each was presented with only the most basic forms on the trip. So far. She knew the paperwork would increase in a few days until they were all hopelessly buried, documenting each and every move they'd made at Las Noches.

She settled on a question of small importance, to her, as she stood and looked around the corner at the young captain at his desk. "Will they execute the Espada?"

Hitsugaya looked up from the larger stack of papers spread on his desk. "There's been no official decision made yet on what to do with Ulquiorra Shiffer. It'll be either execution or a thorough interrogation and analysis."

She nodded. "And if he is interrogated, what then?"

Hitsugaya's eyes dropped back to his reports. "There won't be enough left of him to execute when Division Twelve is done."

"Oh. Of course."

He frowned over the paper before him, looking eventually up at his considerably taller vice-captain, estimating her pensive expression. "Captain Soi Fon has proposed an interrogation of Ichimaru."

"Oh?" She looked to him quickly, her thoughts on the Espada dissolving.

The familiar frown fell over his face as he shuffled the papers needlessly. "There's been some discussion of his actions during the assault. Rather, his inactions."

"I see." She waited for him to continue, hoping he would without her requesting it. Hitsugaya could be informal, but he took his rank serious.

"Some have speculated some of Aizen's followers are less," he sighed, shaking his head as he paused, "well, less traitorous than others."

Matsumoto didn't like the little leap in her pulse as he said it. "No one forced anyone to follow Aizen."

Hitsugaya's hand tightened on his pen, fingertips pressing on the paper on the desk. "No. No one forced anyone, but there have been layers of illusion in this that need to be sorted through." His eyes had fallen to the report as he spoke, but now they snapped back to her. "Among several. Among all of us, at one time or another. This won't be quite as simple as it was thought."

She nodded. "Nothing with Aizen has been what it was thought to have been."

He nodded. "I suppose not." He turned up the lamp light, clearing his throat. "You can leave, if you'd like, Matsumoto. You're done."

Normally she would have jumped at the chance to be dismissed early. This time she considered it for a few minutes. A good long bath would be so nice after all that sand, she thought. The quick shower she'd had earlier upon their return wasn't enough. Strangely, thoughts of sake weren't on the vanguard of her mind.

She watched her captain make a determined effort to fill out his reports, the pen pushed hard enough to etch the paper rather than write upon it.

"Are you sure you don't need me anymore tonight, Captain?"

He nodded without looking up. "Goodnight, Matsumoto."

She sighed. "Goodnight, Captain Hitsugaya."