The Noble Sort

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

Little bit of filler here. Sorry, but I've got to advance the plot. At least it's a short filler, right?

As always, R & R! It motivates the muses, which are greatly strained right now. They're having a little issue, fighting over a plot point that will be very important around chapter 33. One of my muses decided to throw a wrench into the whole thing and change part of my very-planned-out plot, so everything's a mess right now.

Enjoy!

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"The Noble Sort"

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It was amazing to be home.

Well, somewhat closer to home, anyway.

Home was not what she considered the area underneath Urahara's shop to be, but it was close enough. Here, she was free. If she wanted to go somewhere she just had to call upstairs and make sure no shinigami had stopped by. She was safe, not a prisoner, and she had chosen it. It was different.

Besides, Ururu had fitted her little tent out quite nicely.

She was camping out behind one of the large cliffs, just in case anyone happened to come down there. Although it was doubtful they would. Urahara had told her the few shinigami that knew it existed were all in Hueco Mundo and not to worry. She had free reign of the Urahara-Underworld, not that there was anything truly interesting down there.

That was, of course, after Yoruichi had torn into him. She had really enjoyed that. It was rare that he got what he deserved, the manipulative bastard, and she enjoyed seeing it. It was his fault for thinking he could successfully keep anything from her for any decent amount of time. He should have known better. Yoruichi, like any decent Shihōin, knew what her man would do before even he did. And on the rare occasion he did pull a fast one on her, she caught up quick and usually made him pay for it. And she was very inventive when it came to punishment.

She hadn't been sure she made the right decision until she was here. Even when Yoruichi and Shinji had shown up, right in front of her, she still doubted. But when she had gotten back and they had crowded her down here to practice and hide out, she finally realized it was right.

She would practice here, sleep if needed, and still be able to go to the other house if she wanted. Her apartment was a loss, but she had a home she could go to in the meantime if the shinigami kept trying to find her.

There was a brief pang of guilt when she realized how furious her uncle would be and the disappointment her former taichou and his friend would feel due to her actions, but it was worth it. She was free to choose to be in this battle instead of being forced into it, and it was important to her.

If you would have listened to me, we would have been gone earlier.

She ignored him.

If she was going to perish in this fight, she was going to spend her last few days the way she wanted, where she wanted. It was only fair.

Besides, by now they were too busy pondering the present she had left them to be too angry. And knowing her uncle, he would understand her message and leave her be after a halfhearted attempt to bring her back.

Her phone beeped next to her, and she slid her finger along the screen to open it.

It was a short text from Urahara.

~Shinigami here. Stay down.~

Of course they were checking him out. There was only one man who could have possibly opened those gates, especially simultaneously like that. It took skill to pop open gates that close to each other and with only a second or so of a time lag.

She threw her phone down on the futon and stepped out of the little tent, making sure to get a decent distance away from her makeshift camp. It was time to perfect this. She wanted to spend a night in a big bath and one of her own beds before everything went down.

She steadied herself, stretching. It was time to prepare for the many failed attempts she would face in the next few days.

She took in the lovely surroundings and grinned. They wouldn't be so pretty in a few hours.

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Meanwhile, upstairs, Yoruichi and Urahara were being glared at by the very angry taichou of the Second Division.

Soifon had appeared not ten minutes before and only an hour after the trip to Seireitei. They hadn't even finished their argument before she had appeared before them, welcomed by Urahara's unusual grumpy attitude and snarky remark that he wished the shinigami would stop opening gates in his house. He had a reason to be angry, truthfully; for an exile, they all knew where he was and didn't seem to mind dropping in on him all the time.

But it hadn't phased the tiny woman, who had proceeded to rip him into little shreds and blame him for everything that had ever gone wrong in her life.

It was normal with the little spitfire, and he let her words brush off of him. Although, he would admit to getting very tired of upholding the façade—just once he would enjoy pointing out that Yoruichi had done much of it on her own, without his help or input.

Soifon gave her cousin too little credit.

But most of his bad mood was placed at her feet, and everyone around knew it. He hated it when they fought.

"What were you thinking, Yoruichi-sama?" Soifon exclaimed, her malevolent glare directed at the blond man she considered the culprit behind every spurious action of her mentor.

He was responsible for her behavior, she knew it.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Yoruichi said lazily and all too innocently, propping herself up on the small table in front of her.

"You willingly helped a captive of Seireitei escape. Apparently a very important, high-security captive."

"If I did, it was for a good reason."

She smiled.

"I'm not gonna let you guys go around executing people for no reason, you know."

Soifon jerked minutely. It was barely visible, but Yoruichi caught it.

"Didn't know that, huh?" She shot a glare at her lover. "Neither did I until a few hours ago."

"It doesn't matter, Yoruichi-sama. Yamamoto-sou-taichou is furious, and he sent me to get her. And we know you had a hand in it—Kyouraku-taichou saw you."

The black woman shrugged, and yawned.

"You can't do anything to me. I'm not afraid of retaliation from the Gōtei 13. I would be long gone before you ever got the chance."

She grinned.

"She's not here. Check all the rooms."

Soifon glanced around. If she was offering so easily, then she wasn't here.

"Where is she?"

"Did you think to check her apartment, Soifon-san?" the blond man asked, his innocent voice somewhat muffled by the fan in front of his face. His bubbly persona was back in place, only angering the small woman further.

A vein on her forehead popped out dangerously.

"She's not there," she forced out, her teeth gritted.

"Well," he said, his fan popping closed and a freakish smile appearing on his face, "she's not here! I don't know where she might be!"

A cat wandered by her feet, wearing some sort of distracting cone-shaped collar around its neck and a weird hat—helmet, maybe. Soifon had the quick thought that she probably didn't want to know what this man had done to the defenseless animal.

His perverse science infuriated her.

"Yoruichi-sama, please," she begged. If it came to it, she would do it. Begging was not something she was accustomed to, but if she went back empty-handed it was going to be her in trouble. At least, if Yamamoto's mood was any indication of her future.

"I can't help you, Soifon, sorry," she said, her hand coming down to scratch at the tatami mat she was sitting on.

The cat immediately turned to the noise and sprang into attack mode, jumping at her hand on its hind legs before batting at her fingers with tiny paws.

Soifon sighed, turning around as the gate reappeared.

She moved to step through, the hell butterfly fluttering around her head, but then stopped. She turned, focusing on the two in front of her.

"If he finds out you helped her hide, he'll come after you. I don't know who she is, but she was obviously of some importance. You should worry about yourself, not his misfit friends."

She turned again, disappearing through the gate, and it slipped closed and disappeared. The two in the room sighed, sitting up and taking on serious expressions.

"Soifon, he'll be too dead to do so. Just like the rest of us," Yoruichi said, her words dark and ominous.

Urahara just stared at her, his eyes glittering in the dark shadow of his hat.

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Things were just heating up in the First Division's quarters. Yamamoto was indeed furious, although he wasn't letting it show as much as some would.

Shunsui and Juushirou were standing off to the side, slumped and visibly repentant. They looked as much like two chastised boys as he could ever remember them looking, which was the only bright spot in the sou-taichou's very long, very aggravating day.

She had done it. Again.

He had warned Juushirou numerous times to stay on her, not to underestimate her. Minako would not give up so easily, no matter how placid she had seemed while in their custody. It was not a trait she was known for.

But the man was too nice to really listen and understand the warning; Yamamoto doubted he had ever really been up against someone as devious as his niece. It was a family trait that he was once very proud of and now wished to bury.

His attention was pulled to the middle of the room, to the large double doors opposite his own chair as they opened.

Soifon, one of the few taichou he had that truly took their responsibilities seriously, appeared in the crack between the doors, and they were shut soon after her. He didn't even need to open his eyes to know she had failed—she was alone; only one person's footfalls could be heard in the cavernous room.

"I could not find her. Yoruichi-sama and that man obviously know where she is, but they won't say. Her apartment was empty; there were no clues as to where she might have gone. No reiatsu to trace, no clues at all."

He nodded at her slowly and then waved his hand.

"There is more, sou-taichou. I do know why they came for her…"

He was silent.

"Obviously, Yoruichi-sama only recently found out she was here. I am not sure how they knew each other—most obviously they did—and the time she found out about the prisoner's captivity was not long before she was assisted in her escape."

She looked down.

"Yoruichi-sama said she would not allow execution of the woman for no legitimate reason."

All three men could hear the question in her voice, but when the sou-taichou merely waved his hand again, she followed her orders, ignoring her personal curiosity over the mystery. She left in a flurry, obviously upset about her failure, but it was to be expected. He doubted his niece would be found a second time, even if it meant she went so far underground no one ever found her.

He glanced at the two men on his right, the entire reason he was even here.

"Execution, Juushirou?" he said accusingly.

The pale taichou put his hands up in front of him, waving wildly.

"I did not say anything! She overheard you mention it, Genryuusai-sensei."

"Nevertheless, she escaped on your watch."

Juushirou hung his head, despondent.

"I understand, Genryuusai-sensei. And I apologize."

"Yama-jii, it's really my fault," Shunsui said, his relaxed visage never changing.

The old man just looked away.

They stood there a few more minutes, unsure of what they should do, but he waved at them and they, like Soifon, took off. No one wanted to stick around with him in that sort of mood.

He looked at the lacquered box in his lap, tracing the pattern on the side of the box. He knew who it had belonged to.

Arisu.

The fact that she had known where his niece—her daughter—was, and had not told him…

It had been burning like betrayal in his gut for the past hour and a half.

She had never let him know, never even hinted where she was going. Of course, he had no idea of how frequently she had been leaving Seireitei as they no longer saw each other regularly. Any trip she would have taken was easily concealed; he would have just thought she was working or avoiding him.

Now, though, at least he knew why she had taken to avoiding him.

He wasn't sure what his reaction would have been if she had told him. He could have been as furious as he was now, requested Minako be brought back for trial, or he could have just wanted to see her, to bring her back.

It didn't matter, though. Not any longer.

He opened the box, picking up one of the many photos. He had already looked through them, but this was his immediate favorite. They were obviously at some sort of monastery, both dressed very traditionally. Arisu, with her blond hair and red eyes, stuck out. She was tall next to her dark daughter, but they both looked incredibly happy—content. He was glad they had restored their relationship before Arisu's death. It had weighed on him heavily, when he found out. The idea that they would never be able to forgive each other had caused him many sleepless nights after her death.

They were the only family he had had for centuries.

There was also a book, detailing how they had finally reconciled. It had both Minako and Arisu's handwriting in it, and he knew they had both collaborated, together, to explain to him how this had all happened. According to the book, everything in the box was back-up, just in case Minako had found herself in the very situation he put her in.

It was very much like them to make sure every angle was covered.

Finally, there were other pictures, some that had really made his blood boil. There was one of the Visored group, something he was still very indecisive on. There were many loose, scattered and not having any connection to each other except that each featured his niece accompanied by shinigami he knew had defected long before for some reason or another. Apparently, they had all formed their own small network, keeping in touch when needed. It was unbelievable none of them had ever been caught, even though some of them were exiles and would have never been chased in the first place.

He continued on, pulling out the two small, folded papers that had been deliberately stuck into the small book where he would see them instantaneously, the awkward placement obvious amongst the neatness of all the organized contents of the box.

The first was obviously an order from Central; it was on the official letterhead and had the signature of a man he had not seen in over a century. In a very unusual move, the man had been promoted to Zero about fifty years before, as had two or three of his associates. It had brought some speculation but nothing too serious.

Now, though, he wondered what had really happened.

With everyone from Central murdered the librarians had taken over their databases and papers. It was a jumble—everything was in code—and they hadn't gotten through a fourth of the papers left behind.

But he understood the date, 26.01.5641. Not even a year before Minako's first disappearance. He recognized his niece's name, Aizen's name, even the name of the exiles Urahara had helped so many decades ago. And he recognized the names of the two men who had signed off on whatever the order was: Rashogen Jin and Nishiori Kirin.

He understood nothing else, but he knew that the copy Choujirou had made would soon be on its way to the best he had in their personal service. He would know the contents of the letter as soon as they were able to break the cipher.

The other, though, was even more special.

The stationary was his own, a special sort he ordered stocked for his personal study. It was usually only used for very formal orders, something his niece would have recognized. She would have known he would realize it was his immediately.

The note was short, in his niece's very familiar handwriting, but it served its purpose. He could once again feel the fury abating, settling into his normal calm.

Gen-oji-san,

I'll do my part. Don't worry. I just have to do it my way for once.

If I stay in Seireitei I'll never get this done. And we should just admit it, we're probably both dead when this is over. I want to spend my last few days the way I want, not caged up and followed everywhere and unable to enjoy these last few days of freedom.

Minako

It was hers, obviously. It was her speech, her pattern. It was too much like the many little notes she used to leave tacked around the house where he would see them, telling him she was on a mission or with a friend for the night.

But the postscript was almost too much. It was an old friend; it matched the hundreds of notes that cluttered one of the cabinets in his study at the house. His heart had skipped a beat when he saw it, and he had had to force down a smile. It wouldn't do to let the boys know how much it had affected him.

P.S. Love from Momo-chan.

Complete with the ridiculous western heart. It was a ridiculous thing she had learned from her taichou and continued on in her personal correspondence.

P.P.S. Don't forget to pay Ukitake-taichou for my lunch. I forgot.

He would ring her neck when he finally got a hold of her, dead or not.

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A/N: I had, at one point, included the entire ciphered letter from Central, but I've given you the important bits instead and left it out. Seemed less confusing that way (although part of me balks at it; I spent over an hour coding that sucker!).