The Noble Sort

A/N: As always, the important stuff is in the notes of the first two parts.

I do have to address something, though, that was brought up on another site and I want to just get out of the way across the board. First, I claim in my summary that there is an OC. If you don't like, don't read. Simple as that. As for the Yamamoto line being part of the four houses—wrong! The only two noble houses known are the Kuchiki and the Shihouin. It is also known that the Ukitake, Kyouraku, Umaeda, and Shiba families are/were noble. As was one fallen family. Nowhere in Bleach or in the databooks are we told Yamamoto is one of the four noble houses, so I didn't make him part of them.

I researched for two months before letting this story be posted, making sure I had everything correct or as close to it as possible. I even had a friend that knows Bleach look it over. I know these characters' histories, favorite foods, hobbies, even what they are known for in Seireitei (publications, mainly). I have scoured the databooks, the BleachWiki, the anime, and the manga to make sure I was correct in speech patterns and what they called each other.

So please, trust that I do a great amount of work to make sure the story is enjoyable and as factual as possible.

I'll end this author's note, though, with a happy tone. I'll just thank those of you who have enjoyed this story.

And for those who do like it, R & R please. I know sometimes we're too busy, but even a short "I enjoyed it" helps make those of us who have to deal with flames, criticism, and sometimes actual verbal attacks feel better.

So R & R if you liked it!

Enjoy!

(And, um, I kind of need a beta.)

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"The Noble Sort"

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"Execution?" Urahara exclaimed, his persona slipping rapidly.

"That's what she said. Not that they were planning it, but that it had been discussed."

Lisa, her hands on her hips, turned to Shinji.

"What the hell were you thinking?"

He scuffed at the concrete floor beneath them with his very nice loafer, wearing a small spot on the side of his left shoe.

"Well, shit. They didn't say anything about choppin' off her head earlier. And I wasn't the only one for it, remember? Dumbass."

"I don't remember voting to turn her in," Lisa said, eyes crackling with fire behind her glasses.

His eyebrows knitted together, and he grimaced.

"I didn't think they would take it this far. He's her uncle."

"Ah," Urahara said, his fan tapping against his hat, "His sense of justice is overdeveloped. Even his niece is not above the law in his eyes. Any threat to Seireitei, hai?"

"Taichou wouldn't let it happen," Lisa said, her confidence in Kyouraku evident in her voice.

"That's a lot of faith restin' on a shinigami—not a good idea," Shinji said, the disparaging tone clear. And he was making a face at her, something that would only fan her ire even more.

"Who knows? According to Yoruichi-san and Kurosaki-kun, both he and Ukitake-taichou interfered with Rukia-san's execution. Their reasons are their own."

"She wanted to go back, y'know. We all know it. She's still hung up on it. I thought I was doin' her a favor," the blonde Visored said petulantly.

"Well, don't do me any favors, Shinji," Lisa bit out.

Urahara tapped Benihime on the floor rhythmically, although the two Visoreds doubted he knew he was doing it.

"Maa, maa...how much time will I have to get the gate ready?"

"Few minutes…maybe half an hour," Shinji said, his mind already drifting from the conversation.

Urahara sweatdropped.

Still he nodded, turning to leave the warehouse.

He made it almost to the open doors and then stopped suddenly, turning. His face was hidden by the shadow of his hat and his ever-present fan, but they could see the gleam in his eyes.

"Yoruichi-san does not know about this."

Shinji snorted, and then nodded.

"I won't tell your girlfriend, don't worry."

Urahara turned and continued out of the building; soon he was out of sight.

"Although I wonder what you told her, considerin' she hasn't seen her friend in a few days," Shinji said darkly.

Suddenly a look of frustration came across his face.

"Is it too much to ask that he just fuckin' tell you shit?"

Fucking shinigami.

They're nothin' but trouble.

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"You really did not have to make him do that, Minako-san," Ukitake-taichou said, distressed.

"It's alright. He'd been out long enough."

He had come to retrieve her—or spy on her—and they had immediately wandered out into Seireitei, but she had made Hidaruma go back into sword form first. He had pouted but she wasn't having it, not today.

There were too many other considerations right now.

They were supposedly heading to a small restaurant that he and her former taichou favored and then over to her old division, not something she was looking forward to.

The idea of seeing all her old teammates, the men and women she once laughed with, fought with, lived with...it was just too much. So far her reception had been much better than she ever believed possible, but her company had been limited to taichou and fukutaichou. The upper levels of the divisions tended to have more information and knew what was going on, whereas their men usually did not. In her position, the normal shinigami soldiers would be much more apt to, well, despise her than those in power. But even the reaction of her former division wasn't the chief worry in her mind.

What distressed her most was the fact that, even after last night's late night rendezvous with her uncle, he was still treating her as if she was just a friend or another shinigami. If she was a prisoner, she wished they would just go ahead and make it plain. This playacting was driving her crazy now.

They arrived at the restaurant fairly quickly and were seated in one of the many small, private rooms in the back. She sank to the floor and let him order; this place hadn't been here eighty years ago. Soon, though, the waitress doubling as host had left them alone and the tension began to fill the silence.

She coughed lightly, searching her mind for a topic, but he actually saved them from entering an uncomfortable silence.

"He does not seem to be dangerous…" he said, haltingly.

"He isn't. But wandering around—people wouldn't like it."

He nodded, understanding.

"What of your own zanpakutou, Ukitake-taichou?"

His face lit up, his smile widening and his eyes sparkling.

"Sōgyo no Kotowari! They are twin brothers, and very obstinate children," he said, and while she could tell they probably annoyed him, he was very proud of them. It was almost enough to send her scrambling back, trying to physically react to the idea that her own zanpakutou was so much more violent and unacceptable. Instead, she set her shoulders and reacted in the time-honored tradition of upset females everywhere: with barbed words.

"Much better than a hellhound, yes?" she said, her sarcasm obvious.

"I did not say that, Minako-san!"

She waved her hand in front of her.

"No, but everyone other than Gen-oji-san thinks it. It's very hard to explain the fire-types to those without fire-types." She took a long, cleansing breath and smiled at him lopsidedly.

It was amusing, offending his sense of politeness, but it was getting old already. She just didn't seem to have it in her like she used to. Besides, it would be best not to antagonize one of the men that could help her out of this predicament.

"Forgive me. Let's talk about something other than my trouble-making zanpakutou."

"Do you enjoy life—in the human world?"

In truth, he was greatly interested in the idea. He would never even consider living somewhere else by choice, but the world had fascinated him since he was young.

"Most of the time. You work, you go home. Occasionally you go out with friends." She propped her head up on her hand, staring at the wall. "Same as here, just more freedom to make your own choices. More movement in society, I guess you could say."

She saw his face drop as another avenue of conversation was struck down. She wasn't doing it purposefully this time, but he really didn't seem to understand that there wasn't much to talk about when it came to her "human life."

"You spoke of friends there; do you have many?"

Already trying for information on them, huh?

"Not really. Urahara and Yoruichi, obviously, and a few others. None that are very friendly, or very involved in my life."

Could she even really count Lisa and Shinji? Lisa, sure. They had known each other for almost two centuries, and even everything that had gone on to make the Visoreds hate shinigami wasn't enough to kill that anymore. But still, she was standoffish, and it wasn't like they got together and had girls' beauty nights or anything. They pulled each other out of binds, trained, and called to make sure neither of them had died. Occasionally enjoyed a night out. Otherwise, it was business as usual.

Then Rin and Mori, who she would never bring up, and a few others that were so deeply hidden they had no chance of ever finding them. They weren't friends, really. She didn't see them enough for that.

Did she have a "bosom buddy," as her mother called it? A close friend that was always there? No. She didn't have the time, and she didn't trust anyone that well.

"And you work? What do you do?"

"Before this, I waitressed. Now who knows? I've most likely lost my job because I'm here and not at work and I didn't even call in with an excuse," she said dryly. "I taught, at one point. Teaching was okay, I guess. I was a bartender a few years ago, worked in a department store. Typical human jobs."

This woman is lonely, he thought, but she won't admit it.

He could always tell.

Thankfully their food arrived, and the problem of finding subjects for conversation was solved by food being consumed.

They ate quickly, neither willing to drag out the very awkward lunch, and after settling their bill—she hoped oji-san had given him money to pay for it and she would have to check tonight—they headed towards her old division.

This made her even more anxious.

She had not seen these people since her defection, and many of them would not take kindly to her reappearance, even if she wasn't rejoining their group. And there was still a fear of shinigami lurking underneath it all—not the ones she had grown up with, the ones she knew well, just the ones that she couldn't…identify.

Where do I fit then?

She wasn't a shinigami, wasn't a hollow. Wasn't human. She definitely wasn't a Visored. She, Urahara, Tessai, and Yoruichi were in this weird grey area. Hers even weirder because she wasn't part of that strange household, not that she ever wanted to be.

She stopped him with a hand on his arm before they even got close to her old division.

"Do we…have to go there?" she asked, her nervousness evident.

"You're worried about their reaction," he said, his innate shrewdness kicking in.

"I just wanted to stay home today. Lunch was great and all, but…"

She looked down at the stones beneath their feet, sighed, and looked up at him.

"Look," she said, finality ringing in her tone, "An exchange. You don't make me go, and—I know what you're after. Information. But I can't give it to you. Shinji barely tolerates me, and only because I'm helping him lay low and keep up with the craziness going on. We can't afford to be picky right now, not with all of us wanting Aizen dead."

His mouth had dropped open, and he was staring at her.

"Other than that, he did me a favor and helped me train to overcome all the…other stuff. He was the only one strong enough to do so. The only real reason I even keep in contact with the V—I really shouldn't even say that word, you know—is because they sometimes need someone legit in the human world, and I'm that connection."

"Well, and Lisa. We're still friends, as much as anyone can be friends with her."

She turned on her heel, stomping back toward the house.

"Where—Minako-san!"

He caught up quickly, huffing, and continued alongside her, matching her fast pace.

"More, you need more?" she said wryly, looking over at him. "Fine."

"Wait, Minako-san, I—" he was shaking his head and waving his hands, but she ignored him.

"I'm a shinigami to them, which equals enemy—except to Lisa—and I'm a traitor to you people. I'm neither. I'm Hiyori's punching bag occasionally when she gets mad because I represent everything she hates, which boils down to hating shinigami and humans. That's the end of it, I promise."

She gestured at him wildly.

"I've never been popular like you. Never made friends easy. And it's double hard when you live a very long time in the human world and the only people who will live as long as you hate everything you represent and, as many of them know, everything you would like to be. Why else do you think Shinji told you where to find me?"

She stopped, staring him down right outside the tall gate that led to the house. His expression was one of shock, and she felt a momentary surge of fierce, dark satisfaction.

"Yes, you saw Shinji and didn't even know it. I'm sure if I ever see him again he'll spin some line about he and Urahara and the greater good and blah blah blah but it really boils down to the fact that I'm a shinigami and to him, I belong here and not there."

"Although, if I know Shinji and before all this shit with Aizen I knew him really well, back when he was just Shinji and not on some mad course against everyone who had ever pissed him off, he's feeling a little guilty right now. And it's damn well deserved, if you ask me."

With that final thought she jerked herself to the right and stormed through the gate onto the Yamamoto holdings. She was, truthfully, counting on the idea that her little rant would get him to leave her alone, and maybe get her uncle to leave her alone.

It did not work out that way, unfortunately.

He flashed in front of her and she almost ran into him but stopped barely a foot away.

"What now?" she asked, exasperated.

"I truly thought you would enjoy visiting with your old friends; I had no ulterior motive. Yes, Genryuusai-sensei has given me an order to get any information possible, but I would have asked you about them at some point." His little speech was rushed, and his tone was urgent.

"Oh, really? When? Two days before Aizen showed up to annihilate Karakura?"

"So you know," he breathed.

"Of course I know!" she screamed. "We all do! You guys are the ones who are falling behind. Without Urahara you'd all be left back in the dark ages, still trying to figure out what the hell was going on!"

She leaned in close, trying to stare him in the eye—which was hard, considering she was about ten inches shorter than he was—and spoke very softly, with a menacing tone.

"Have you figured it out yet? I guarantee my former taichou has. There's no way it was Aizen. The only thing he could gain by fusing with his bankai would be invisibility—it's moot with the power of his zanpakutou. He's pretty much already got it. He had no reason—and rape? I don't think so. Not his style. Someone else is involved in this and you people have no clue who it is."

She tried to whip around him but he reached out and gently grabbed her arm, stopping her.

"Hold on! You seem to think we don't understand what is going on," he said, his voice very serious, finally. It was the first time she'd really heard him be serious since she had come back. "We do. We know what he is doing, his plan, all of it. We know he has someone on the inside. But if he is as strong as we think he is, we know we have to prepare."

You still know nothing. You're thinking too small.

"Then prepare! And leave me out of it!" She jerked her arm out of his hand and he flinched back.

"I don't want any part of it. I'll do my part at the battle, but I'm through after that! What part of this is so hard for all of you to understand? My life ended seventy-six years ago. I've just been meandering along since Urahara helped me, waiting for the day I could repay the favor by helping to take Aizen out! This—this thing you see is not the Minako that left here then. That person is gone. I can try to act like I'm her, but I'm not."

She got five more steps before turning around to put the final nail in the coffin.

"And stop acting like my friend! You didn't care back then when I was just 'Genryuusai-sensei's little niece' or when I was 'Kyouraku's fuku-taichou.' And you don't care now! Give it a fucking rest already!"

She left him standing there awestruck in front of her uncle's house.

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It was already ten at night, her uncle was not home yet, and she had half a mind to just go ahead and make the phone call that would get her out of this mess and back home.

But she didn't.

Hidaruma was back in doggy form, pacing her room due to the anxiety he was feeling through their bond, and she was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the large western-style bed, teary.

Why should she call them? Hadn't she just explained, hours ago, that they didn't consider her a friend, probably couldn't care less what happened to her? They were only allies—tentatively—so that they could all survive the situation they were in?

She had come so close to turning her phone on, fluctuating between a call to set up a gate and a text message to Lisa saying to forget it.

What had happened to her?

This situation was making her crazy. This wasn't her, this wasn't who she was now. She wasn't emotional, wasn't crazy, and she didn't yell at people or make old men throw her in ponds. She was trying to force an old shoe on that didn't fit, just because she had loved it. It was so long ago. It hovered in her mind like a favorite past-time, like an idyllic memory that she would want to recreate no matter what. She was still a person, after all, with feelings and emotions and dreams. Sometimes.

And now the tears were flowing again.

Fucking wonderful.

At this point, she just might settle for getting through the battle and being done with it all. The release sounded like a good deal to her.

Calm down, Minako.

Fuck you, too.

He growled at her, loudly.

You heard me, Hidaruma.

Do not take your anger out on me, onna. I am not—

Yes, you are! You're part of it, too.

The black dog stopped pacing, staring at her and snarling.

What, pissed off now? You gonna turn on me too?

They weren't trustworthy in the first place. I am the ONLY one who has stuck by you, and you better remember that. Not your family, your friends, your men. ME.

I am the one who could've never pulled you out of your sheath, remember that. I could've thrown you away.

He growled again, smoke coming from the gap between his snarling lips.

She growled back. It wasn't menacing, nothing like his, but it got the message across. It might have helped if she didn't look like a preschooler trying to imitate a puppy.

You are going to lose control, he snorted mentally, again, and then we're both screwed when you burn this house down.

I'm not either. I would know. I'm just pissed.

You are not the only one in this situation, and you would do well to remember that. I am stuck here with you.

Yes, but here you get to be free. I'm the one who suffers.

I have stayed in my sheath almost eighty years, other than for training! That is suffering, onna!

You weren't supposed to be out anyway, Hidaruma. You didn't lose anything you had gotten used to.

He growled again.

You are the most infuriating creature I—

Don't you even, you goddamn hypocrite! You're a hellhound—there isn't anything more infuriating than that!

That insult was the final straw; he had been fed her anxiety all day and the emotional chaos finally caused him to snap.

He pounced.

She didn't even have time to try scramble backwards before he was on the bed and knocking her over, towering above her, four limbs caging her in. His front paws rested in the small space between her head and shoulder, literally closing her in at one of her most vital points—her neck. His back feet were resting on either side of her thighs and knees, effectively cutting off her movement.

The big black head lowered, his nose almost touching hers. And his growl was so loud she swore it shook the frame of the house. Her ears would probably be ringing after this.

You have been in a mood all day. I understand you are upset, and I understand you are scared. But you had better STOP taking it out on me, or I will give you something to cry about. It has been too long since you have faced me on a battlefield, obviously, if you think I will lay down and bare my stomach like that.

And you expect me to? I could've ordered you back into your sheath but I haven't. I've given you more leeway over the years than I think anyone else would give a zanpakutou ever. Do you care? No. You ask for more.

I would love to see you try to force me into that form right now, Minako. I would fight you and win. You can't even control your own emotions.

In the midst of their mental argument, they missed Hikaru sliding the door open to check on the very loud noise she had heard, her gasp, and her quick retreat.

Or, more likely, they just ignored it. This was not the first argument they had had, and bystanders were sometimes in awe of them.

All you have done since this began was mope and cry, feeling so sorry for yourself you're hardly the person I was born to protect. If this is what you have become, you might be better off dead.

The tears started again.

It was hard, listening to her oldest friend say she would be better off dead.

He growled, and she sobbed even louder.

Do not twist my words, onna! For all that's holy in the world, use your damn brain and think! You die, I die. But if this is the life you have picked for us, I would rather commit fucking seppuku right now than continue this up and down emotional bullshit.

Yes, because I haven't had to deal with yours! I seem to remember spending an entire month in bed after I had already spent a month in bed because you were traumatized after that first try at bankai. You act like I'm the only irrational one here, but you're just as bad. 'Oh, but Minako, look what happened to you. Oh, Minako, what have we become?' Boo-hoo.

That's because I unfortunately happen to take too many of my formative traits from a whiny bitch!

They were both silent, his chest heaving in anger and hers from sobbing, staring at the pair of eyes in front of them.

Now who's taking their anger out on whom?

I wouldn't be, he said mentally, accompanying it with a feral snarl, if you would just act your age and stop taking yours out on me.

Well, you—you—

Come on then, onna; I'm waiting for your witty fucking rejoinder.

"Hadō no ichi: Shō!"

Both of their eyes had widened at the first syllable, but neither had been able to react before a bright light entered their vision, slamming into Hidaruma and forcing him off of her.

And then he was on the floor near the wall.

"Bakudō no kyuu: Geki!"

"NO!"

But she couldn't even get the word out before he was engulfed in red and completely paralyzed, unable to move. She sat up quickly and swung herself around to face the doorway, expecting her uncle to be standing there.

Instead, she saw the very angry taichou of the Thirteenth Division.

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A/N: So. A little character development.