A/N: So I'm really ashamed to have the nerve to post this chapter after a more-than-year-long hiatus. I really am sorry for being such a distracted, lazy bum.

Chapter 7

Analyzing rock positions and patterns have never been my favorite thing to do. So when I found myself staring at yet another sea of white pebbles and stones, I couldn't suppress a sigh out of sheer boredom. My gesture was not caught by the young heir, who proceeded to point out more boulders and trees with strange enthusiasm.

Now, I somewhat regretted my decision to dart out of the Shuuhei's place and to Masami's estate before him. I was unsure of how to face him after the disaster with the dango, one of the downsides in my plan to stop thinking about the incident. So, I followed my first instinct to flee…and ended up wanting to bash my head in with one of the meticulously placed boulders that littered the place.

At his mother's suggestion, Tatsuo had decided to give me a tour of the Nakatomi manor, which included stopping at every little garden and giving me a trivial monologue about each. "This is Otou-sama's favorite zen garden. He often spends his free time overseeing the maintenance of this garden or meditating here."

Before I could tell him what I thought his father should do in his free time, I was startled by a white object hurtling directly towards us as we passed around a corner. Instinctively, I hit the deck and the missile barely missed my head, continuing on to knock over one of the carefully balanced rocks.

Struggling to hold in several curses, I picked myself off of the floor, trying to look composed. I glared viciously at the culprit, which turned out to be a kickball.

I sighed and grabbed the ball, turning around to face Mitsuko, looking as innocent as ever. She bounced across the porch and jumped at me. Taken aback, I panicked, almost forgetting to catch her.

Dangling precariously in my free arm, she didn't seem to mind. "Ren-chan! Ren-chan! You're here!" she squealed, giggling and swinging her feet, her fairy-like golden locks flying about her face. For a child that had been targeted by a group of assassins earlier in the day, she was surprisingly cheerful.

I coughed awkwardly and set Mistuko down. Well, it was better than 'onee-san'.

"So, where's the green tea ice cream that you promised?" I asked her, feeling my face stretch into a grin despite my best efforts to look stern.

Her brother didn't seem to have any such problems. With his hands on his hips and a cocked eyebrow, he looked exactly like the Academy monitors. "Mitsuko, how many times has Otou-sama told you not to play in the yard?"

"Tch. Uptight little brat," I muttered, bouncing the kickball a couple times. The girl didn't seem to be fazed by her brother's scolding.

"Ren-chan can play with us now, right?" she asked, looking up at me with wide, sparkling eyes, completely ignoring Tatsuo.

I found the word "no" had suddenly escaped my vocabulary. "Yeah, I'll guess I can play a little game before your mom calls us back in for the dinner. Wait…what do you mean by 'us'?"

"I was playing with Mister," she said, as if it was obvious. Before I rolled my eyes in frustration, Mitsuko unlatched herself from my leg and ran towards an approaching figure. "Mister! Mister! Ren-chan said she would play with us!"

As if out of dream, the person emerged from cloudy darkness of the overhang. I barely noticed as the ball dropped from by hand and rolled past my feet, off the porch. My hands clenched into fists as I met eyes a shade darker than mine, tinted by disbelief. The close-cropped black hair from my memory had grown longer, painted by streaks of silver and more lines were etched into the man's strong features. But there was no mistaking that strip of white under his right eye, a scar that I had given him.

"Ren?" he breathed incredulously, more a statement than a question.

"Bastard," I retorted. "So the good-for-nothing father finally shows his face."

My body shook in barely restrained rage that had not diminished in the years that I had last seen the man. He continued to gape in unmasked confusion. "What? You thought I was dead?"

Shaking his head, he cleared his throat, collecting himself. "No, never. I always thought of you and your mother."

I scoffed loudly, but he merely smiled sheepishly. "It's so nice to see you. Kami…you're all grown up now, Ren."

"No thanks to you," I snapped. "Pay off your debts yet, Tsukikawa? Or did you gamble away the money you got from selling off the house? You know, after you tried to sell off your wife and child!"

"I stopped. I stopped gambling," he said quietly, touching his scar self-consciously. "I couldn't live with myself after that. I started working, earning an honest living. Eventually, I was taken in by the Nakatomis. I've been working for them ever since, saving enough for me to rebuy the house…so we can be a family again."

I laughed resentfully. "I go by Moriyama now, old man. Don't you ever think we can just forgive you and be one big, happy family. I will never forget your cowering face, doing nothing as your friends grabbed Mother and beat her and smashed and laughed and broke everything!"

My voice grew louder and louder until I was screaming, like how I was screaming in terror that night. And I trembled with fury as I remembered my father's hand over my mouth, trying to silence my cries. And I bit my lip as I remembered grabbing that shard from the broken vase, the pretty vase that I was never supposed to play with, and slicing upwards wildly. And I found myself running like I had, past Tatsuo and Mitsuko and past he man that called himself my father.

I ran without any idea where I was headed. I distantly felt a wetness streak across my face as I flew past flurries of shocked servants, throwing open any door in my way. Flashes of disconnected noises and the eerily darkened faces of the men that held my Mother captive sent my senses into a whirling mess of past and present.

I heard myself yelling, sometimes incoherently, sometimes for help. My heart squeezed agonizingly in my chest and I longed for some trace of safety, of warmth. I blindly chased a voice in my head, a kind, patient voice that murmured words of reassurance.

"Shuuhei! Where are you, Shuuhei?" I cried, feeling the aching in my chest begin to bubble upwards, until my throat clenched painfully. Where was that warm hand that ruffled my hair, that warm voice that teased and encouraged, that warm smile that I found so hard to fight against?

"Ren?! Ren!" shouted the voice I was searching for. In my delirium, I ran toward the conjured presence. "Hey, it's okay! Stop running!"

"Shuuhei!" I sobbed, instinctively reaching out. To my astonishment, my hands made contact with something solid and warm. I felt familiar arms close around me, and the pressure in my chest dissipated almost immediately.

"It's okay, Ren," the person whispered and I let out a strangled whimper in response. "You don't have to talk about it. Just breathe."

I complied, taking huge gulps of breath, as hands rubbed soothing circles on my back. When my breathing had returned to normal and I felt relatively calm, I chanced a look upwards. "It's really you," I said, with a short, wheezy laugh.

"Who else, Chihuahua?" Shuuhei replied, patting my head tenderly. "I was just here five minutes when I heard the staff in a frenzy about a guest that was running around the house and screaming for help and sure enough…"

I poked his chest indignantly. "You're saying that like I cause trouble wherever I go."

He raised his eyebrows and grinned. "Well…"

"Hey! This time it wasn't really my fault! And I never told you to come running after me!" I retorted, but I couldn't help as a corner of my mouth twitched in a half smile.

He frowned slightly, flicking my forehead. "You were calling for me and screaming, 'Where are you, Shuuhei?'."

My cheeks began to smolder as I spluttered in protest. I felt my face burn hotter as I realized that he still had an arm around my back. The other hand was wiping away tear tracks on my face.

"Yeah, well…thanks, I guess," I mumbled, twisting out of his arms.

Shuuhei seemed to become conscious of our closeness as I shuffled backward, remembering what had happened a couple of hours ago. He cleared his throat and let his hands drop to his sides, staring intensely at the wall above my head.

"Look, what happened before, with the dango. I mean, if I freaked you out, then I didn't mean to. I don't know what I was thinking. I just—I just wanted to…well, I'm sorry for…that," he stammered, completely unlike the calm and composed Shuuhei that was comforting me minutes ago.

I grinned nervously, managing to force out a few short barks of laughter. "Don't worry, I already forgot." More like I was trying my hardest to forget.

"Well, um, good. I was worried that it might affect our relationship—not that we have a relationship relationship, but you know, our living-and-working together…thing."

I steeled my nerves and walked over to slap his arm. "Hey, we're both guys. We're not supposed to read too deeply into situations. Just chill out."

He glanced down at me, the corner of his mouth twitching. "I guess I have been overthinking this."

"Yeah, just ignore whatever Shiranui says," I said, nodding determinedly.

One of his eyebrows jumped upward. "Shiranui?"

"Oh, my zanpakuto always tries to give me some whacked up advice," I explained hurriedly, grimacing at my mistake. "The point is," I said, trying to backtrack, "just don't think about it at all, okay?"

Instead of taking his mind away from what happened, it appeared that I had just channeled his thoughts toward investigating the mysteries of my zanpakuto. No, not good!

"Rocks!" I shouted, "Which is to say, I was looking at the rocks outside, in the zen gardens, before you came. The prince was giving me a tour of the estate—never have him give you a tour."

Shuuhei chuckled, returning to his old self. "Why? Did he keep you away from the kitchens?"

I snorted. "That's impossible. No, but that boy has an unhealthy obsession with swirls of sand and rocks, drinking tea, and meditating. He's like an old man already."

"There's nothing wrong with appreciating a garden with a hot cup of tea," he said, shrugging. I wrinkled my nose in disapproval. "And mediation is helpful for clearing your mind—and for establishing contact with your zanpakuto."

I struggled to hold in my panic, feeling the situation approach dangerous territory once again despite my efforts to derail the conversation. "As much fun as being mentally assaulted by your crazy aunt of a zanpakuto, I think we better find Mitsuko and apologize to her for the inconvenience."

"Nice try. You should apologize to her for the inconvenience that you caused," Shuuhei retorted, a wry smile dancing upon his lips.

I shrugged noncommittally. "You always do a great job of covering for me with the ladies anyway, Casanova."

I swiveled back around, marching back through the hallway with a confident grin, pausing slightly to bask in Shuuhei's confused silence. I burst into laughter as Shuuhei bumped into a maidservant and apologized profusely. I tried unsuccessfully to hold in my giggling when he finally caught up to me.

"It's nice not to be the one exploding from embarrassment this time," I sniggered, lightly punching him in the arm. He tried to scowl, but somehow ended up with a mash-up of an angry, confused, and amused expression, eyebrow twitching wildly, only making me laugh harder.

By the time that we reached the guest dining room, I was practically wheezing from my giggling spasms, probably looking somewhat deranged, and even Shuuhei was chuckling softly. It was no wonder the house staff were giving us strange looks.

Suddenly sensing a very unwanted presence, I stiffened up immediately, my light mood evaporating.

"It's so nice to hear your laughter again, Ren-Ren," mused a smooth voice from the furthest corner of the room.

I gritted my teeth, determined not to be goaded to an explosive rage. I almost jumped when Shuuhei placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. I shook my head, trying to ignore the burning sensation trickling down my arm.

"Wha—I mean, what are you doing here, Ryota?" I growled, making the effort not to raise my voice. My fingers twitched involuntarily when I was met with an indifferent shrug.

"I should ask the same question. I'm assigned here," he replied casually, as if he were speaking to someone that didn't want to punch through his eye sockets. After a slight pause, he smirked. "So, have you met him yet? You know, the deadbeat that abandoned—"

If not for Shuuhei's quick thinking, I would have already vaulted over the table and tackled Ryota. So I was grudgingly grateful to Shuuhei for nearly choking the life out of me by grabbing the neck of my shihakusho. He gave me an apologetic look and I nodded curtly in thanks.

Whirling around, I slowly made my way around the table. Ryota smiled ever so slightly, like this was all amusing to him. My temper roared forth. "You asshole—you knew my father was here?!" I demanded, my fists clenched so tight that crescent shaped scratches were beginning to appear. I barely noticed them. "Why the hell didn't you tell me? I deserved to know!"

This time I really did jump when Shuuhei took my shaking hand in his. "Don't hurt yourself," he murmured gently. "Ren…please," he said insistently, thumbs brushing over my wound fingers, slowly unwrapping them.

I glanced back at Shuuhei, and my heart almost stopped at his expression, so full of concern and caring that in a heartbeat I immediately relinquished my anger. I wanted to ask why, why he cared so much, but before I could, Ryota scoffed loudly and my attention snapped back to him.

A brief flash of some indistinct emotion flitted across those brown eyes, and his entire demeanor seemed to melt into something darker. If Shuuhei was surprised by the emergence of Ryota's true self, then he didn't show it. "Why did I 'have to tell you'?" he asked scornfully. "Why do I have to do anything for you? It's not like your father did either. You didn't mean anything to him."

This time, Shuuhei wasn't quick enough to hold me back. In a split second, I had already grabbed Ryota by the front of his shihaksuho. "Take that back!" I snarled, my spiritual energy beginning to escape from its restraints.

Ryota responded with a gratified sneer. "What? It's true. Actually, he didn't even abandon you—he tried to sell you. "

My vision was instantly swathed in a crimson film as I smashed the taller man against the wooden wall, angry tears threatening to break from my control. Ryota grunted at the harsh impact, but otherwise seemed to be amused at my display. His small smile grew into a vicious grin as he looked down at me. Suddenly, his eyes flicked back toward Shuuhei, who was rushing over.

"You never meant anything to me either," he said, just loud enough for Shuuhei to hear. In the next moment, both of my hands were wrested from his shihakusho and trapped by an iron grasp.

Before I could even comprehend what had happened, a pair of icy cold lips had descended upon mine.

NO! I shouted in my mind, but Ryota only pressed more violently against my lips. It seemed like my body was frozen and I could only stand there in horror as my stomach churned in disgust. The tears that I had tried to hold back exploded and in its torrential wake, igniting a second wave of rage.

I bit down on his bottom lip and was satisfied when I tasted a trickle of metallic tang. Ryota jumped backward, clutching his mouth. My spiritual energy exploded outward, my hands bursting into white flames and incinerating the kido that had bound my hands.

"Why so upset?" he drawled, grinning wider as I rubbed at my mouth viciously with my sleeve. "Ah, don't tell me that was your first kiss. I'm not actually surprised that—"

Before he could finish his sentence, before I could even react, Ryota was sent flying across the room, crashing completely through the wall and landing on top of a table, reducing it to splinters. I looked down at my hands, no longer ablaze, which hadn't seemed to move. Slowly, disbelievingly, I glanced sideways and was shocked to find Shuuhei standing next to me, his hand clenched into a fist.

"I should've punched him harder," he growled, his eyes swirling in unreadable shadow. I scanned him, completely confused. Shuuhei wasn't supposed to lose his cool, he was the epitome of calm and mature.

Before could digest what had just occurred, Shuuhei had shunpoed through the hole in the wall and was roughly hauling Ryota up by the front of his shihakusho. I blinked away my shock, wiped away my long forgotten tears, and ran over to the scene.

Shuuhei had Ryota held in a position much like I did moments before, and something about the way Shuuhei's back muscles were rippling told me that he would definitely follow up on his earlier thought. And although Ryota's cheek was turning a very pleasing shade of red, I doubted our host would appreciate more shinigami busting through her house.

Tentatively, I touched Shuuhei's shoulder and mustered up my best placating tone. "Erm, Shuuhei, I appreciate your…concern, but I don't think Masami-san would like it if we held a seated officer beatdown in her dining room. I think I covered the whole, uh, house-wrecking phase already," I said lightly, sighing in relief as I felt the muscles under my hand relax.

"Moriyama, Hisagi-fukutaichou," Ryota hummed dismissively, but there was no doubt a challenge issued in the way his voice hardened at the end. With one last infuriating grin at me, Ryota brushed aside Shuuhei's hand and shunpoed out of sight. It took every ounce of my willpower to go chasing after him.

Shuuhei had still not turned to face me, so I planted myself directly in front of him. I was still not able to discern anything from his darkened eyes, which disturbed me greater than I would have liked. "I would never expect to have to break you up from a fight," I tried, trying to brighten the heavy atmosphere.

Finally, a smile tugged at the corner of Shuuhei's mouth and the building tension that had seized my lungs melted away. "I think you're a negative influence," he said, running a hand through his hair bashfully.

"I wouldn't say being a little aggressive is completely negative. The ladies do love the whole rebellious bad boy type. I mean, you already have the whole tall, dark, and handsome thing going for you," I joked, but stopped abruptly, processing the words that had just tumbled out of my mouth.

My face grew so hot that I wouldn't have been surprised if someone chucked egg at my face and it started to fry.

"I mean, you know, your, uh, accessories and all seem kind of dark—not that they're unfashionable, because you're completely fashionable—unless you don't want to be and I completely understand if you're not into those kinds of things, and I definitely don't mean those kinds of things because I would never peg you for that kind of guy! Don't worry, everyone says you're so masculine with your tattoos and muscles and jawline and all! Hahahaha!"

Oh, kami, I was in the Hysterical Laughter Phase now. I had only entered the Hysterical Laughter Phase twice before, and the results still continued to haunt me. My only hope at this point was to jump out of a window.

"Moriyama-san, Hisagi-san?" I was never happier to see a pretentious teenage noble in my life.

"Tatsuo, thank kami you're here!" I cried and rushed over to him and grasped his hand in gratitude. He seemed taken aback at my exclamation, but he made no move to correct my unprecedented display of friendliness.

He cleared his throat and I dropped his hand. "I'll tell the servants to move the dinner the second dining room, seeing as this one has been…incapacitated." He gestured to a maidservant, who nodded and he began to lead us down another set of hallways. I made sure to stay by Tatsuo's side, leaving Shuuhei in the back, hoping he would forget my incredible display of social stupidity.

"You really don't mind if I call you Tatsuo?" I asked, trying not to look backward.

His eyes snapped to mine and away just as fast. "It's better than Chibi-Ouji," he grumbled, looking aside. It may have been a trick of the light, but I swore I saw a faint dusting of pink on his otherwise pale cheeks.

"Hey, then you can call me Ren, or Ren-chan like your sister does," I said teasingly, ruffling his hair. He wriggled out of my reach, trying to straighten out his hair.

"No," he said immediately, "I'll call you Ren."

I shrugged, feeling my anxiety begin to disappear. "Aniki works too," I mused and Ryota glared in response.

"I'm already taller than you," he pointed out, trying, but failing miserably to mask his smile. It was refreshing to see him make an expression besides arrogant displeasure.

"Well, I'm older than you. And I say we're the same height," I said definitively, my authority as an adult no doubt enhanced by sticking out my tongue. Tatsuo lifted his eyebrows in challenge, drawing himself up to full height.

I heard a giggle in front of me and this time, I was sure that Tatsuo was blushing. "I'm glad to see that Tatsuo is getting along with you so well," Masami said with that musical lilt of hers. "You might as well be Tatsuo and Mitsuko's older brother."

"I already tried to make him call me aniki. Maybe I should try to make him call me onii-sama," I contemplated aloud and snickered at Tatsuo's scowl.

"Well, Ren's not my brother," he said emphatically. "I might have to kill myself if he was."

"What's that supposed to mean," I pouted, giving him a playful, one-handed shove. I must have put more force into it than I thought because Tatsuo stumbled precariously, almost falling on his noble butt.

"First-name basis already?" Masami asked, giggling mischievously. "The only other person my son called by their first name was my hairdresser, even though she was seventeen years older than him. He had such a fantastic crush on her! He used to pick flowers in the garden, even though he would get chased by the gardener, and give them to her and say 'These are as pretty as you, Akari!'. But he would get so scared that he would run away right afterward!"

Wow, this woman as bad as my own mother. "And when she got married, Tatsuo refused to come out his room for a week. My poor little boy was so heartbroken that he refused to fall in love with a girl ever again!"

Tatsuo's entire face had turned such an intense scarlet that I thought he would spontaneously combust. He seemed to be praying for the floor to swallow him up, a feeling that I knew only too well. His mouth opened and closed soundlessly, making him look like a flustered little fish. I failed to stop myself from snickering at the image.

"It's all right, Tatsuo. I'm sure that you weren't as adorable as your mother says," I said gravely, struggling to keep a serious face, though it only seemed to make him turn an even more vivid shade of red.

"How about you, Hisagi-san?" she asked suddenly, sharply reminding me that he was behind us. I tried to keep facing forward, despite the magnetic presence behind me. "I'm sure that you have some interesting stories about Ren-san."

I heard a low chuckle. "Too many to count," he confessed. "Though, I could start with the one where he managed to blow up an onsen."

"How about you not," I snapped, losing my fight to avoid eye contact. I gave him my most venomous glare, but this time, Shuuhei seemed unfazed, his face lit up with a devious grin. My glowering mask faltered as Shuuhei crossed his arms and leaned back in defiance, eyebrow raised in challenge. He was enjoying this!

He stroked his chin dramatically in mock pensiveness. "Hmmmm. That story is a little mundane. Maybe I'll entertain them with a tale of your Academy days, which, from what your friend tells me, are 'scandalously cute'."

"You wouldn't dare," I growled, struggling to sound threatening, but the look in Shuuhei's eyes made it difficult to concentrate.

"Or maybe I can tell them a story about your drunken escapades. 'Shuu-chan' certainly appreciated them," he mused.

I paused in startled confusion. "What are you talking about?" I demanded, a nagging feeling twisting in the back of my mind. Was I forgetting something important?

That made him clam up. Suddenly, Shuuhei backed up, that strange intimidating aura vanishing immediately. "Nothing. Forget what I said."

"Whoa there, buddy. You can't just drop something like that and just say it was 'nothing'," I retorted, feeling a wave of panic churning in my stomach.

All I remembered was acting like a child, running around and jumping on Shuuhei's back. Did I say something mind-burningly embarrassing? Oh, kami, what if I—

"Ren, dinner's ready," Tatsuo said snappily, seemingly irritated. A remnant of pink still colored his cheeks. He nodded curtly in Shuuhei's direction and ushered me into the room, making me feel a bit like a herded sheep.

He showed me to a seat at the far corner of the table and took a seat next to me. Slightly confused, I was about to ask why he was so insistent on sitting next to me, but I felt a tugging at my sleeve.

"Ren-chan! Okaa-san said that we could have green tea ice cream after dinner!" Mitsuko crowed, beaming spectacularly.

I couldn't help but smile in response. "That's great, Mitsu-chan."

Shuuhei just had to go and sit directly across from me. I gave him a narrow-eyed stare, making sure the 'we-are-so -talking-about-this-later-you-wuss' vibe was clear. He quickly broke eye contact, settling for helping Masami to her seat. I felt a stab of irritation, but brushed it aside.

My attention, however, was quickly consumed by the array of unbelievably delicious-looking plates set out in front of us.

"Ren, you're about to start drooling," Shuuhei quipped and I very maturely blew a raspberry in response.

"Well don't wait for me," Masami laughed and it took all of my willpower to not tear apart the food like an underfed, rabid animal. It felt like my taste-buds and I had died and gone to heaven. I wanted to spin in circles and cry from happiness.

I ignored the amused looks that Shuuhei was giving me, and tried to start a conversation with Tatsuo, but now he was the one who refused to make eye contact, looking very much like the sullen little noble that I had met earlier in the day, except for the hint of color that refused to leave his naturally pale cheeks. Teenagers, I sighed.

"The food looks amazing, Masami-san," I said reverently, but Masami merely shook her head.

"I can barely make a pot of rice. All compliments should go to the chef," she said. I was thoroughly surprised. Masami was the pinnacle of womanhood. I shrugged, somehow feeling a bit better at my complete lack of domestic talent.

I heard an affronted huff in the corner of my mind and paused for a minute to smile to myself.

88888888

"I hope you were satisfied with the dinner," Masami said unnecessarily. We had cleaned off all of the plates (well, mostly I did) and they were currently being carried off in stacks by the servants. Mitsuko had lost her struggle to stay awake and was resting her head in her mother's lap.

"The green tea ice cream was the perfect finishing touch," I admitted, remembering the surprising amount that Mitsuko had eaten. The little girl had a stomach that surprised even me.

Masami waved her hand at the man who remained in the corner and I almost jumped when he moved. I had forgotten his presence. A fringe of inky black hair nearly obscured his eyes. He approached with a tokkuri* of warmed sake. He poured out a cupful for Shuuhei and did the same for me. Nobody would want a repeat of my crazy drunken episodes, but I pretended to down a mouthful of the sake, not wanting to hurt Masami-san's feelings.

"I'd like to thank you again for saving Tatsuo and Mitsuko today. You were both so brave," Masami said, bowing from her seated position.

I shook my head vigorously. "It was nothing," I insisted.

"We were just doing our job," Shuuhei agreed, but managing to look unfairly cool. He took a sip of the sake and nodded in appreciation.

I had to avert my gaze, flashes of my train-wreck of a speech begin to resurface. How could I have been so stupid?! Now he probably thought that I—I—liked—

Tatsuo cleared his throat, catching my attention. "Ren…is it possible …for you to teach me…how to…fight?" he asked, boring holes in the table with his eyes. The request seemed to cause him physical pain.

I glanced at Shuuhei, who shrugged. I rolled my eyes, mouthing a sarcastic 'thank you'. After a moment of hesitation, I placed a hand on his shoulder, mustering by best role model voice. "Look, you did great today. You were the bravest out of all of us, defending your sister, even while being scared out of your mind."

He looked upward abruptly, frowning, but surprisingly, he bit back any protests. "You were a real man today, Tatsuo," I said firmly, squeezing his shoulder.

Tatsuo, the being the pale, emotionally volatile noble teenager that he was, broke into another full-face blush and I let my hand slip off his shoulder.

"But, if it's okay with your mother, I wouldn't mind teaching you a few tricks," I added, looking toward Masami.

She was smiling secretively, which made me a little worried, but she quickly inclined her head in approval. "Well, that's awesome. Now I have my very own apprentice!" I cheered, sending Shuuhei a smug look. He crossed his arms as if to say 'well, now that pain in the ass is your problem'.

It turned Tatsuo was not having a facial seizure, but instead seemed to struggling to quell his outpouring of foreign, non-grouchy emotion. Eventually, he lost though, and his normally surly features were brightened by a wide grin that reminded me of his sister. Huh. I would've never thought the boy could look so cheerful.

"Lesson number one, my young disciple, smile more often, else the ladies will think you're a dramatic ball of badly masked, angst-ridden distress," I said jokingly. "Unless, of course, they're into the dark, brooding type, but those girls tend to be scarily…enthusiastic. Personally, I think you look much better happy."

Tatsuo spluttered indignantly and I watched in amusement as he tried to pull over his façade of cool disdain. "I don't—"

"We'll use the division's training grounds," I said, cutting him off. "It'll just be…easier that way."

Shuuhei gave me a questioning look, but he seemed to sense my silent plea and assented. Not for the first time, I felt incredibly grateful for his understanding. Another meeting with…Tsukikawa or Ryota would be a complete disaster.

"Would you like another cup of sake, Hisagi-san?" Masami asked, motioning over to the creepy servant guy.

"Thank you," Shuuhei said, reaching over to pick up the refilled cup. I frowned as he nearly missed the glass. He furrowed his eyebrows and blinked rapidly, his eyes looking slightly unfocused.

That was strange. I didn't remember Shuuhei being a lightweight. "Hey, Shuu—whoa! Are you okay? Shuuhei!"

He collapsed forward onto the table and I immediately leapt to my feet. Before I could reach him however, a flicker of silver zoomed past me, narrowly missing my head.

Instinctively, I cast a protective barrier around the Nakatomis and glanced in the direction of the movement.

"Tch. I suppose you didn't drink," snarled a voice to my left. Already lowered into a defensive stance, I cautiously turned my body to face the assailant.

"Well, I'm not exactly a raging alcoholic," I snapped, "and poison really isn't my thing."

Sure enough, the servant guy from before stood poised at the opposite end of the room, lazily fingering another shuriken. His dark eyes were indecipherable, but a cruel smile danced across his thin lips. I cursed inwardly, berating myself for failing to trust my instincts.

"I should have known you were an assassin. Creeper slime practically oozes out of your eyeballs," I said loudly, steadily inching in front of the Nakatomis, while my hand instinctively crept toward my hip. I swore softly when I realized that I had left my zanpakuto at the front door with a servant. Darned house manners.

I risked a glance at Tatsuo, who was standing in front of his mother and sister, albeit trembling himself. Mistuko clung desperately to her mother's leg, cowering in fear, but not making a sound. Masami shielded her daughter, her eyes sparking like flint.

Shuuhei was still unconscious, but his paling face was drawn in a pained expression. I could see a sweat break above his quivering eyelids. Worry stabbed at my stomach like I had swallowed red-hot razorblades, and I had to restrain myself from rushing to his aid.

When I looked back at the assassin, I found myself having a hard time focusing on him. It seemed like he was fading in and out of the background, inscrutable as the shadows dancing around the room. His startlingly white skin appeared to be emitting an eerie glow. I shivered as an icy tingling shot up my spine and I had a strange feeling it wasn't because of the opened shoji screen. I had to bite my lip to keep my head in the game.

He seemed to be aware of the strange effect he had, as his grin grew wider and even more arrogant. "What's the matter, little shinigami? Feeling a little scared?" he taunted, tossing his head.

I felt an immediate surge of anger course through me, causing my blood to begin to pound in my ears, as well as an equally strong desire to pull out the man's flamboyantly long hair. Just thinking about it made me itchy. What kind of assassin had to flip their hair?!

"Naw, just pissed off at your sissy-boy hair. If you're trying to hide your fabulousness, well, let's just say you're not doing too well of a job," I countered, partly in a strategic attempt to divert his attention.

My superior ability to get under people's skin hadn't failed me yet and didn't fail this time either. Immediately, his smirk morphed into a downright murderous sneer and he drew a wicked-looking knife from his robes. Almost the size of my forearm, the forked blade glinted menacingly, the pitch-black metal giving the unnerving feeling of being made of pure shadow.

I gave a low whistle. "That's one seriously freaky knife. I mean, sure it compliments your look, but don't you think it feels a bit overboard. It comes off as kind of, you know, overcompensating."

Once again thanking my natural charm, I narrowly avoided a vicious swipe to the throat by vaulting over the table. I backed out of the doorway into an open space, grimacing as I heard small stones crunch under my step. I was going to get an earful from a certain crotchety noble for messing up his precious swirly rock gardens.

"I understand that you may be at that awkward stage in life, struggling to discover yourself and all, and who knows, maybe deep down inside, you're a glamorous, wonderfully morbid boy, but I'm here to tell you that there are healthier ways to express yourself," I jeered.

Tatsuo stared at me like I had just lost my mind, but I simply looked back at the peeved assassin with a surely infuriating grin, hand on my hip for added effect. He took my bait and came after me, launching himself with his arm raised in a lethal-looking strike.

Calmly, I raised my palm moments before contact. "Bakudō #61. Rikujōkōrō!" I shouted and six beams of light smashed into the man's midsection, knocking him out of the air. He found himself kneeling on the ground, unable to move.

"By the way, that's my fukutaichou that you tried to off. So, do you want to tell me why you tried to poison two shinigami officers?" I growled, making my way over to him. "No? That's fine. We can just chat about why you were trying to kill the Nakatomis. I'm sure it's a very interesting story."

To my surprise, the immobilized man began to giggle softly, the disturbing kind of laughter that made me sigh as I realized that, crap, here was another psycho that I had to deal with.

"Oi! Something funny about being floored?" I demanded, grabbing the man by the collar.

As I touched him, a spark of electricity ran through my being and I recoiled in horror. This spiritual energy, it was odd and warped, but I recognized it.

It seemed like the world was moving in slow motion. The rods of light that fastened him began to vibrate, beginning to crack apart. "Fade into twilight, Kage no Hokō-ki*," he whispered, but I heard him clearly as if he spoke in my ear.

His kido prison shattered into glittering dust, but the light seemed to be swallowed by a dark miasma of ghostly energy. A feeling of dread washed over me, so powerful that I could not move, let alone breathe.

"You're not the only one with a few tricks up his sleeve," he crooned.

"You're a shinigami?!" I said in disbelief, though I was reminded of his strange, but familiarly patterned spiritual energy. But him, a shingami? That had to be impossible.

He wagged his finger. "Now, now, I can't go spilling all my secrets," he said, as if he was scolding a small child.

Nevertheless, the blade that he was holding had lengthened into a full-size katana. There was no way that the spiritually charged sword was not a zanpakuto.

"You're kidding me! Haven't I had enough shit to deal with today, world?" I asked the night sky, which refused to respond.

"I'll admit, exasperation usually isn't the first reaction people have when they face my Kage no Hokō-ki," the dark-haired man said.

"What usually is? The uncontrollable desire to tickle?" I asked sarcastically.

Now probably wasn't the best time to aggravate a potentially dangerous, you know, assassin, but when was it ever?

"Despair," he hissed. He fell into proper fighting position, looking very ready to use his zanpakuto.

Yeah, really regretting leaving my zanpakuto with the servant now.

Nevertheless, I couldn't resist the desire to, well, be an ass. "Hmmm. Despair. Sounds tasty."

He narrowed his eyes, raising his zanpakuto. "We'll see if you can keep up your confidence after this. Yoarashi*.

The miasma of noxious spiritual energy that curled around his feet began to swell and churn ominously. Suddenly, the cloud whipped into a tornado-like spear, moving so fast that I had to shunpo out of its path.

Unfortunately, the storm only continued to follow me, forcing me to perform a few acrobatics to avoid its path. Somehow, each time I avoided it, it only seemed to grow in size.

"What's the matter, little shinigami, can't fight without your zanpakuto?" he laughed, hovering in the air a few yards in front of me on a platform of the black fog.

Fed up with playing tag with an evil cloud, I finally turned around to face the attack. Taking a deep breath, I steeled my nerves. "Actually, my specialty is fighting without my zanpakuto," I said, lifting an eyebrow in challenge.

I raised both of my arms. "Hadō #58: Tenran!" I roared and a hurricane of spiritual energy burst forth to meet the nasty-looking storm. The two storms clashed and the black cloud immediately dissipated into murky vapor.

Before I could even stop to survey the damage, I was hit with a stinging stab to the chest, right above my heart. The breath knocked out of me, I looked down, but found no blade. Nevertheless, a numbing sensation spread from the area, making me feel dazed. Spots danced in front of my eyes as I struggled to regain my breath, but a suffocating pressure on my lungs only made it more difficult.

He must have moved directly in front of me, but I was only dimly aware of him, only a blurred apparition in my vision. He clacked his tongue. "You see, there is no stopping hopelessness. It remains, feeding, growing, until you cannot help but succumb to it. The more you fight it, the weaker you become."

"I m-may not look like it…" I wheezed, "but I can be one…optimistic bastard."

At point blank range, I punched my palm toward his chest, mumbling "Hadō #33: Sōkatsui," and the blue spiritual energy exploded outward with concussive force.

He should have been sent flying backward, but he only floated back a few feet, another miasma of energy absorbing the blow. The blackness swirled around his limbs, the tendrils of smoky darkness making him look vaguely insect-like.

Before I could shudder at the image, I was blinded by another wave of agony, my vision fading into pitch black. I tried not to panic, but staying collected while not being able to see or breathe was proving to be quite the challenge.

"Haven't you learned anything yet, little shinigami? The night is my domain," he crowed.

Distantly, I heard the sound of a sword cutting through the air and I twisted backward just early enough to feel the metallic-scented current of air on my neck.

"That's beautiful! Dance! Dance!" he trilled, madly slashing at me. I was forced to contort wildly in order to avoid the blade, relying on my sense of smell and hearing. One particularly ferocious swing caught me at the side of the cheek, the cut hissing and burning terribly. It bled more than it should have, a rivulet of warm blood running down my chin.

Distracted by the stinging pain, I couldn't hold in a cry as the sword sliced across my arm. "My zanpakuto's poison is a tad slow, but with every movement you make, the closer you step toward utter paralysis. Isn't it poetic?" he mused.

To my alarm, my fingertips began to feel slightly frozen and the weight on my chest only got heavier. I blinked rapidly, but my vision refused to clear. I didn't want to risk another kido attack, but I was running out of options.

"You're feeling it now, aren't you? The despair," he purred, continuing his furious assault.

My knees were beginning to feel a bit weak and I felt my movements growing slower. The irritating buzz in the recesses of my consciousness that I was ignoring suddenly erupted in volume. Although it felt like my head was being split open, I finally realized that the droning noise was a voice.

A very female, very familiar, very nagging voice.

Now is not the time for your headstrong foolishness, Ren! Release me! Demonstrate our power to that uncouth buffoon! RELEASE ME!

"Where are you, Shiranui?" I cried, clutching at my head.

All of a sudden, there was a crashing sound to my right, like someone had burst through a wall. The presence was unmistakable. Soon, there was a voice at my ear. "Looking for something?"

The condescending undertone of that voice was something that I could never forget. I felt anger begin to boil again, bubbling up over the overwhelming feeling of panic.

"Ryota," I snarled, picturing his smug grin.

"Now is that any way to respond to your savior?" he chided. "I finished taking out some shady-looking guys outside, which, I'm guessing, are this boy's backup. Barely even broke a sweat. Now you on the other hand…well, you look like you just got your ass handed to you. And what a pity, the fukutaichou's all passed out too. What a guiding force."

"Shut up," I growled, starting to be able to make out Ryota's infuriating form.

The day when Ryota Kaneko saved me. The world was surely ending now.

"Who are you?" the assassin snapped at Ryota, regarding him with annoyed interest rather than immediate defensiveness. He must not have sensed Ryota's churning, but tightly controlled spiritual energy.

"Only a delivery boy," he remarked. "It's kind of sad that you need your zanpakuto for this, Ren, but here—happy birthday."

My vision had cleared enough for me to catch the incoming projectile. As soon as my fingers brushed the familiar smooth wood of the saya, I heard a peaceful ring in my head, a pulse that cleared away the muddy darkness. My fingers clasped around a familiar sheath and I grinned as I drew Shiranui, relishing in the resounding shiiing. I wasted no time in tugging the cloth free. As soon as the chain wound around my arm, I felt the pressure uncoil from my chest.

This time I was glad when Shiranui burst into flames, the bright whiteness of them piercing through the darkness, casting off an almost ethereal glow. My own spiritual energy sprang to life, starting to spark off my body.

"T-thanks…I guess," I grumbled painfully.

"Don't thank me," Ryota snorted, "it was your father that found it."

An immediate shockwave ran through me and my spiritual energy responded in kind, flashing dangerously. Why did my father help me? He had no right to touch my zanpakuto! Nevertheless, I was grudgingly grateful to the man.

Now I finally had the chance to pound in this narcissistic assassin creep's face. Setting his hair on fire sounded like a very appealing option.

"Ryota, take the Nakatomis somewhere safe," I commanded rather than requested.

He regarded me with a narrowed stare. "You'll owe me," he murmured. Before the assassin could react, Ryota smashed through my kido barrier and grasped Masami's hand. Although startled, she appeared to understand and grabbed Mitsuko's hand. Tatsuo hesitated, throwing a prickly look in my direction. I nodded swiftly and he obeyed, taking Ryota's open hand.

"Don't get killed yet, Ren-Ren," Ryota said mockingly, disappearing with a maddening wink. I sighed in relief, but then saw that he had left Shuuhei, still horribly unconscious, behind and the reluctant appreciation I had for Ryota ebbed away. That bastard.

The assassin bellowed in rage, finally seeming to comprehend the sudden turn of events. His black energy whirled around him frenziedly. I looked on with satisfied disdain.

"Incredible assassin you are. Completely forgot about your targets," I said dismissively, though I tightened the grip on my zanpakuto.

"I'm going to make sure you'll never see the light of day," he spat, the tempest of energy swirling around him fast enough to create blustery winds. I winced as the rock garden literally began to fly away, or rather, the injured remains of it.

Despite the near-death experience that I had just suffered through, I couldn't help but feel excited in anticipation for part two of this match. One of the upsides of a burning desire for revenge was, after all, a rush of fiery energy.

"That's a fantastic idea, sir, but I'm afraid that'll be impossible. Like I said, I can be one optimistic bastard," I snickered, holding out my sword.

Without wasting another second, I dropped my zanpakuto. Instead of clattering on the ground, it levitated, glowing with increasing brightness at my chest level. The chain connecting Shiranui to my arm suddenly shrank and fell free. My zanpakuto begin to spin around, speeding up until it was a whistling, radiant blur.

"O ye dragon atop the heavens, shed your light upon the nameless! Blaze forth, Shiranui!" I boomed.

Immediately, my zanpakuto stopped spinning. I took a deep breath, feeling a little tense, despite the number of times I had performed this.

Then, I watched as Shiranui plunged into my chest and my world was consumed by a blinding white light.

Terms & Translations/Explanations:

Tokkuri: the usual serving container in a sake set

Kage no Hokō-ki: "Shadow-Walker"

Yoarashi: Night Storm

A/N: Yeah, a kind of weird place to stop, but I plan to do a lot more explaining in the next chapter.

I have been seriously distracted by this year's pileup of amazing anime (say, Shingeki no Kyojin, anyone?). To make matters even worse, next year's lineup seems just as distracting.

In all of this though, I find myself losing interest in Bleach. Honestly, I'm just reading Bleach until it finally finishes, which, I'm hoping, is within this decade. Kubo is keeping me there by dangling the possibility of Hisagi's bankai, the biggest carrot he could ever produce (for me).

Unfortunately, this probably means no more Bleach stories (which I had originally planned). On the upside, I will be writing for other fandoms (most likely Hetalia, Shingeki no Kyojin, Free!, etc.), so I hope you'll stay tuned.

Or rather, probably not, because my update record has proven to be fairly criminal.

Oh, and feel free to message me any criticism (especially typos or plot holes). I really appreciate advice!

Anyway, I hope everyone has had a wonderful holiday season. I wish you all health and happiness into the new year!

-Codename Ookami