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The Noble Sort	By : Melissarose8585 Category: Bleach > Het - Male/Female Views: 4411 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or make any money off of this story. All rights belong to Tite Kubo.

Chapter List
- 39
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- 41
A/N: The last update before the epilogue! Enjoy this one, because it could be two weeks before the epilogue gets posted. I'm trying to find a place here in SLC and get everything set up work-wise, so I'm busy in the RW for the moment.

And thanks to those who reviewed! It definitely perked me up in the middle of my homesickness. I've never been away from my hometown, so this is new and a little scary for me. The reviews have definitely made me feel a little better.

Enjoy!

"The Noble Sort"

Two Weeks Later

Everything had gone surprisingly smooth, Minako thought, especially considering the tumultuous beginning to her new position.

Everyone had slowly gotten into a rhythm. She had finally gotten her fuku-taichou to loosen up—he was very different than the guy she met that first night—and the squad was getting used to her. They were even used to the shishi.

She had redone the drill schedules and tested some of the members to see who needed what training, and she had even given people areas to concentrate on. She knew their names now.

Her fuku-taichou was much calmer now that he only had to really worry about the paper—the third seat was helping her by managing guard duty and her fourth seat was in charge of rosters and scheduling. In two weeks she had managed to get everything organized so everyone worked but no one was overworked. Least of all her, thankfully. She wasn't going to slack off like her former taichou, but she wasn't going to work all the time like oji-san did. They could all pitch in and get it done more quickly.

It was ten times better than the Eighth, where one person did everything.

Oji-san had teased her about micromanaging, and she didn't know where he had learned the human term but she didn't appreciate it. Just because she wasn't letting her fuku-taichou run the division while she did paperwork all day didn't mean she was micromanaging. She was just…involved. That was her opinion on the topic, anyway.

It kept her busy.

She had slowly settled into a routine, a pattern that now marked her life back in Seireitei. She was happy, most of the time. She genuinely enjoyed her job and, in her personal opinion, she had one of the most talented divisions available.

The only downside, then, was her longing for human world food and entertainment. She missed television more than anything.

Well, and her stalker.

Ukitake-taichou, just as oji-san had said, was annoyingly persistent. He was determined to finally have it out with her, apologize, maim her, something—she wasn't sure. But she had run into him four times in the last week alone when outside the division, and he had even invented a reason to come into the Ninth the day before.

She had fled, white haori fluttering behind her with her ponytail, all the time Shuuhei running behind her as she barked out instructions to tell all visitors other than oji-san she was in a meeting or not to be disturbed or even dead.

The poor fuku-taichou had complied, although he had shown up at her door later that evening demanding an explanation. She finally told him that Ukitake-taichou was her ex, that they had a fight when she arrived back in Seireitei and he was hounding her about it. The man had cracked an odd grin and just left, whistling.

She hadn't known he whistled.

She wasn't sure she approved.

But right now there was no Ukitake-taichou to worry about—thank God, because her willpower was slipping day by day along with her anger—only the lower level division members that she drilled each morning. It improved their skills while giving her some exercise, sometimes some amusement.

She corrected one of the newer members on his stance, then explained what another was doing wrong with their swing and why it meant they weren't blocking effectively.

After watching them all pair off to do some light sparring—the only way to truly get better, in her opinion, besides letting her just beat at them until they learned how to do it right—she just stood back and observed.

They weren't the strongest bunch, that was for sure. But her group had heart, and no one had the ability to plan an event quite like the group in front of her. They weren't stars on the battlefield, but they organized most of the recreation of the shinigami which made them that much more important. She was a big fan of living life to the fullest in any circumstance.

All in all, this taichou stuff wasn't so bad.

She paid for that thought later that night.

Apparently the grace period had finally worn off; she was woken up around four in the morning by a harried fuku-taichou because around fifteen of their division members were currently being escorted to the Fourth Division for injuries.

She got up quickly, ignoring her male fuku-taichou and throwing her shihakusho on before rushing out the door and moving as fast as possible to the Fourth.

Shishi, lazy dog that he was, just ignored them.

"What the hell happened?"

He filled her in as they jumped quickly from building to building, both worried.

"From what I've been told, they ran into a group of Menos. They weren't strong enough to take on that many, although Renji said they took out three of them before back-up arrived to help them retreat. He and his squad took out the rest."

"I guess I should be happy they took down three, but what were that many Menos doing in one area and even remotely close to Seireitei?"

"I don't think anyone knows yet. Mostly, the Second and Twelfth have been dealing with the aftermath."

"They were patrolling the wall next to the Twenty-Third District! Farming community! It isn't even a hot spot!"

"I know," he said, jumping from the final roof to the tiled courtyard in front of the Fourth, landing barely a second after her. "A group from the Twelfth is checking all the souls in the area to see what was attracting them."

She hurried into the building, which was a hive of activity in the front rooms even at this time of night. Someone was always injured, or drunk, or dying.

Isane was waiting for her, thankfully, and she led her to another room full of beds, many of which were occupied by her division's tenth squad. Most of them looked like they were nursing minor injuries, although she did notice that two of them were missing.

"Where are Date and Kōga?"

"Their injuries were severe. They've been taken into surgery already, Minako," Isane replied.

"How severe?"

"Date-san has severed some muscles in his arm—a Menos claw injury, I believe. And Kōga-san has a punctured lung and several broken ribs, as well as a broken clavicle. He won't be leaving here for a few days I'm afraid."

"But they are both going to be fine?" she asked.

"Of course. And the rest of the squad has minor injuries, although they'll be out of commission for a few days as well while they heal."

She sighed, resisting the urge to slump against the wall at the release of tension. It was all she needed at the moment—it was way too early to have a division member die on her.

She shook her head, clearing it of the lingering remnants of sleep and the anxiety that had plagued her all the way to the Fourth. Then, she stepped forward, moving quickly to her fifth seat's bedside to find out what had happened. Shuuhei moved to follow but she motioned him away toward another member—he took the cue.

He was already learning to read her and she was learning to read him.

"I apologize, taichou!" the bulky man almost shouted.

"No—it's fine," she said, shaking her head. "But what happened?"

"They came out of nowhere—amazing with their size, but it's true! There were at least seven of them, so I tried to get a retreat organized until we could get some back-up, but they followed us. We had no choice, had to fight. We got three of them down, but Date was injured and half the group was getting caught with their attacks. I didn't think we'd get out, but Abarai-fuku-taichou showed up with another squad and took out the rest while we removed the injured and retreated."

"Removed the injured? You all seem injured," she said dryly, although the concern was plain on her face.

"Yeah, but most of it's flesh wounds. Only four were bad enough to need help. But it brought our numbers down pretty bad." He looked around, then lowered his head and spoke very softly. "The teams don't work together—I mean they do, but they don't."

"I know what you mean."

"It's been so long since they've had to do any fighting like this. Menos are tough, but—"

"But with the right teamwork they can be taken down. I know," she murmured, looking at him thoughtfully. Then she wrinkled her nose, nodding. "Rest. Get me a report as soon as you can—it's your first task when they finally let you out of here."

"Hai, taichou!"

She slowly moved around the room, talking to those Shuuhei hadn't seen yet, but she was getting the same story. After around ten minutes she was able to head for the door and find a seat in the waiting room outside—Shuuhei joined her not too long after, looking just as tired and beat. But he didn't sit down.

"Same thing all around."

"That's good, though, isn't it? A random hollow attack we can deal with," he said, crossing his arms and looking down at her.

"I agree. I just had horrific thoughts of returning to hordes of hollows. Oji-san said they fixed it, but it wouldn't be the first time…"

"You should get back, taichou—morning drills will begin soon."

"Actually, I think you should handle them today," she said, ignoring the look of surprise that crossed his face. Only two weeks in and everyone knew drills were her time with the division. "It's only an hour, and I'd rather be here when the other two come out. When I was in the Eighth, taichou always made sure to be there for everyone injured. It always made them feel better…more appreciated."

He nodded, still somewhat surprised, but left quickly.

She hadn't been sitting there long as far as hospital waits went, maybe a little over an hour, when a very familiar presence entered her senses. She groaned; the Fourth was, of course, his territory.

But he didn't seem ill right now.

She felt the surprise flare in his reiatsu when he saw her, and she could even feel a hint of concern. She brushed it off, hoping he would just walk by but knowing he wouldn't. Even with her eyes closed she sensed him as he sank into the chair next to her, tense.

He opened his mouth but she cut him off.

"Not now, please," she moaned out, her eyes still closed and her head back against the cool wall.

"Who—who is injured?"

"An entire squad," she spit out between gritted teeth. She crossed the fingers of her right hand, hoping and praying he would just leave and try to tackle this when she was running on more than a few hours of sleep and pure adrenaline.

"I'm terribly sorry," he softly. "I know it can be hard to see your subordinates hurt."

He was sincere, she knew. She had heard about what happened to Kaien and knew it must have hit him hard. Even if he couldn't love her he did tend to have a very large heart. Besides, he had centuries of experience in her position; he had probably seen more men injured than she could imagine at the moment.

Had it always bothered him? To be honest, it only became an issue when they were her friends or her own group—squad or division. She hadn't cared when someone unconnected to her was injured. It was a risk you took when you signed up for duty.

She opened her eyes and looked at him, her mind taking in every detail while she tried to figure out why he was sitting beside her.

"Minako-san," he started, and she stiffened, fearing a continuation of the apologies he'd been trying to give her for a month. "Don't worry—I'm not going to bombard you with apologies right now. But, taichou to taichou—if you should need—anything, even just advice—"

"Thanks," she said, her voice sullen. She couldn't help it; the morning had barely started and already the day was turning out to be a tough one.

"But you'll have to speak to me sooner or later," he said, standing and towering over her. He turned to continue down the hallway—she wasn't sure why he was here this early, although she knew he had his reasons—but then he stopped, turning to face her, a brilliant smile on his face.

Her heart lurched in her chest.

"My hair, Minako-san? Truly?"

"Try me and see," she replied, and she couldn't fight the grin that took over. So he had read the note on oji-san's door then. "Something tells me you wouldn't be half as pretty if you were purple-haired."

"Childish," he said, scolding, but the smile was still on his face when he turned and continued down the corridor.

"You have no idea—I would make sure all of your hair was purple, bastard," she muttered, grinning deviously. She knew he could hear her when he missed a step.

She let herself slump in the chair as soon as he was out of view; her heart was racing and she could feel her stomach trying to get up off the floor. It was why she had avoided seeing him—she had no willpower to resist him even though she knew she should.

But like every person before her that had been hunted by a member of the opposite sex, she knew he would eventually catch up with her. Then, they would have it out. She feared she would give in.

She was so screwed.

"Buck up, Shuuhei. He's not gonna be baying for your blood, after all."

"Thanks, taichou," the man next to her muttered as he stared at the slowly opening doors of the First Division. Once the doors were open they both strode purposefully into the division's courtyard. "I still don't see why we had to do this in person."

"Get used to the unusual—it's to be expected when your taichou is his only living relative and his training dummy when he actually feels like unsheathing his sword. He does it to Shunsui and Ukitake-taichou, too." She shot him a quick grin. "Besides, this is an unusual request."

"Shunsui?" he asked in disbelief as they finally entered the building.

They both nodded to the clerk waiting for them and followed the thin man through the winding corridors to her uncle's office.

"I promised," she said sullenly.

Truth was, though, it had gotten a little confusing at a meeting when she kept referring to him as just "taichou." One of the few nights he and Nanao had come to visit, she had told him the story, at which point he had asked her to use his first name. It still felt weird.

"As informal as you both tend to be, I'm surprised you still called him taichou, to be honest."

"Well, you're more formal than I am—does that mean it will take three hundred years for you to finally relent and just call me by my name? I might respond more—I still look around for my uncle or my mother when you yell out Yamamoto-taichou."

"It isn't proper."

"Proper isn't always right. Should I have gone around calling Gen-oji-san sou-taichou after I became a shinigami? It never goes over well, I promise, and we would be missing buildings more often than not due to Ryuujin Jakka's shikai."

He just smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

He was a good guy, really, now that he wasn't as shy and formal around her. A bit too polite and definitely too friendly with everyone for her tastes, much like the man she kept trying to get off her mind, but he also had a dark side. And he could fight. They were working well together; he toned her down and she was getting him to loosen up a bit.

And true to his word, he backed her up. Even when she knew what she was asking was crazy.

They climbed the last flight of stairs and rounded a corner to the upper courtyard, and then the clerk disappeared on them. Minako knew the way, though, and they continued down three more hallways before the entrance to the office was in their sight.

She took a deep breath.

"Ready?"

"Not really," he admitted.

"Not had a lot of contact with him, then?"

"He doesn't exactly roam Seireitei and greet everyone, taichou."

"But you haven't had a taichou for years—I figured, as fuku-taichou, that you had been the one meeting with him regularly for status updates and assignments."

"I have," he muttered, "but only rarely and not for long. But in the past three weeks I've seen him more than I ever have in my time as a shinigami." He shot her a look. "I really didn't appreciate Monday morning at all."

She bit down her smirk; it had been amusing to watch him try to navigate breakfast at oji-san's table.

"Just remember, he's like the shishi," she said, her hand coming up to knock on the door. "His bark is never worse than his bite, but he uses it more often."

And then the door opened, Sasakibe coming into view, and they both prepared mentally for the meeting with the sou-taichou.

Five days later the entire division was assembled in front of her, all off to the side of their larger training grounds. They were lounging about at this point—they had been told they wouldn't be expected to train this morning.

Everyone knew this was an exhibition of sorts.

Shuuhei was greeting the other squad—she was pretty sure they had come from the Seventh—when she, Akane, Isamu, Kenta, and Chouko rounded the last building before the wide open space. Everyone immediately snapped to attention; it was a side-effect of the white haori, she'd found. She wasn't yet sure if it was a good one or a bad one, though.

She stepped up, bowing to the five-man squad across the large field, before taking off her haori and literally throwing it to the closest division member. The young man caught it reflexively. Then, she turned to face her division. They looked expectant but confused.

"It has come to my attention that you have never had any training in squad formations." There were some sheepish looks. "Individual strength is important, but it does no good to be strong enough to fight if you can't work with your team. This week's incident with Squad Ten wouldn't have happened if your previous taichou had taken care of this."

She saw Shuuhei's jaw tighten but ignored it.

"I spent my first years of service in the…shadows." Some eyebrows raised. "No, I won't tell you which one, although you should be able to guess." Some of the division members laughed—everyone knew she was too loud and flashy to be a ninja. "But both rely on teams, not on individuals. We'll be working on this for some time, but I want to show you the difference. I want you to see what can be done when you have a team you can work with."

Shishi padded forward to her side before transforming; he was a sword not a second later and resting in her hand.

"As for you guys, don't worry," she said to the team opposite. "No high-level kidō will be tossed around. Let's keep it simple."

They nodded, and her team stepped forward.

It was a traditional formation in the corps. Someone at point, right in front—that was her. Kenta and Isamu stepped up behind her, one to each side. Chouko was right behind her, but she was facing the opposite direction. And Akane, who was holding the back position, stayed far behind them and ready to catch anyone that came up on their tail.

It was a formation she could manage in her sleep.

"We'll even let you have first move," she called out, and the team opposite wasted no time. As they flashed through space, three appearing before her, her own team sprung into action.

Down, onna.

Isamu had chains whirling to catch one, which she ducked to avoid even as she swung her sword to catch the one closest to her. She felt the fabric of his uniform tear before she pivoted on her heel, head coming down so Kenta could swing his own weapon into the space where she and the chains had just been.

Two of the opposite team were marked and therefore down. They flashed to the side, looks of shock on their faces. The third was already backtracking, meeting up with the other two teammates.

Then, a low level spell was tossed to their right, and one of their opponents disappeared in the wave of light. Chouko shouted out a number—it relayed the moving opponent's position—and Akane was gone, flashing to land right behind the opponent that had tried to come up behind them. Chouko swung one way and Akane's scythe flashed into existence, the blade coming to rest lightly at the guy's neck as she balanced against his back.

He was trapped, a scythe at his neck and a sword at his stomach. Chouko made a small tear in his uniform and the girls leapt away, letting him retreat to the sidelines peacefully.

Coming from the right, but there's a kidō—

Right up front, I got it.

Minako was still crouched and the two remaining opponents flashed to either side of her team, hoping to catch them or just making a last ditch attempt at taking one of her team out. One of them flashed off an attack of some sort toward her back, which she was able to guard against with a quick shield.

Then, when the two finally appeared at the left and right, they faced Minako at the front, who threw off two smaller arcs of fire, as well as two walls on either side of her formed by her four teammates.

Will he take it, shishi?

I think so—I would.

Her opponent to the left sacrificed himself to try and get a hit in, and Kenta immediately took him out with a swing that would have taken off a leg in an actual battle. But the final guy—the last one standing—flashed into the small space Kenta left open, taking advantage of the opening and hoping to get at least someone down.

Akane dropped to the ground, leg kicking out to trip the guy. He jumped over her but Chouko, always blunt, just swung her sword and threw him off balance as he tried to avoid getting cut. Isamu's chains were whirling over his head and then in front of him and the retreating Chouko, a literal wall of steel protecting them against any attack. And then she just turned, bringing her sword's sheath up to block his downward swing before thrusting her own sword through the fabric at his side.

And Akane's scythe took off an inch of fabric at his ankle. He would have been missing a kidney and a foot in a real battle.

They weren't too bad for a regular shinigami team.

They're up against a taichou and corps. exiles. They never stood a chance.

But they tried, and they never lost their cool. If only your division could do so well.

She snorted.

They will by the time I'm done with them.

The final opponent flashed back to his team. All five of them chattered a minute before shooting her group sheepish smiles and nods, at which point her division erupted in loud, ear-shattering cheers. Even Shuuhei was clapping.

Her team, though, just adjusted their stances, standing patiently behind her as she waited for her guys to calm down and the other team to get back into position.

Finally, she raised her hand, and they all clammed up quickly, eager to listen.

"That was simple—no one was actually intent on harm. But you can see the difference in the level of fighting when you train to move together." They were exuberant nods. "Even their team fought well, utilizing the strengths of their members to plan their moves. It can be the difference between living and dying on the battlefield."

"It also improves over time. We've fought together for centuries—that gives us an advantage. The more you practice together," she said, rolling her shoulder, "the better you get together. You'll be able to predict each other's movements, know how to watch each other's back."

She jerked her head, at which point her team reformed. But this time they looked more like a triangle, she, Kenta, and Isamu the points, and Chouko and Akane forming the back baseline.

She turned toward their opponents.

"Our move," she said, grinning. "Let's amp this up a bit—throw some higher spells, make it a little more realistic." The other team nodded, one of their point members already forming a spell in his hand.

Chouko called off positions and then they were gone, flashing across the training ground to once again slaughter the other team. They leapt to avoid the oncoming kidō before slamming into the opposing team from three different directions.

She hoped they didn't take the defeat too hard; it was just a demonstration, after all.

I do not like that blossom there.

Then we shall be glad it isn't your painting, she retorted mentally to the black dog lounging on the floor near her.

She swirled the brush once more in the greenish-yellow paint, then moved it quickly along the bottom of the canvas on the easel in front of her with quick, sharp strokes. She ignored the huffing spirit in her mind; he never had been fond of anything landscape.

When she had seen the easel she wanted to make Hikaru take it back to the house, but something stopped her. Before she knew it she had pulled it out, set it up, and started on a new print. She was now on her third painting since taking over the Ninth Division—the other two were hanging in her office. It kept her busy at night, proved a great way to de-stress after busy days like the one she just had, and gave her something to think about other than missing the inane chatter of Akane and wondering about Ukitake-taichou.

Hopeless onna. You pine yet you turn him away.

She took a small sip of the wine on the table near her before tilting her head. He was right, actually; that one blossom needed to be a few centimeters to the left.

I am glad I cannot have romantic relationships. They seem to be only trouble.

In all fairness, shishi, most people don't date the guys I do.

You mean murderous rapists? Felons? There was the motorcycle one, and the drummer—

Yeah. Guys like that. Thanks for rubbing it in.

She moved to grab another brush, hoping to fix the misplaced blossom on the tree, but she never got to.

The spiky one is here. He brings treats.

She was already swirling the brushes in the clear water when he knocked.

"Come on in, Shuuhei."

Her fuku-taichou slid the door open and stepped in quickly, sliding the door shut behind him. He had a tray from the dining hall in his other hand; it wasn't the first time he had brought her dinner when she failed to show up for the evening meal. Hikaru or Akane, perhaps even Isane, had gotten to him about her eating habits she guessed.

She cleared room on the table near her easel and he sat the tray and tea down quietly before coming around to stare at the painting.

"Another landscape?"

She nodded as she stirred some spices into her rice.

Please?

"It's all I got right now. At least we'll have some artwork up on the walls—I'm not used to seeing so many bare rooms. It bothers me."

Onna…please…

"This flower here—"

"I know," she said, exasperated. "I was going to fix it before you decided I had to have dinner." He sent her a sheepish shrug, but he knew she wasn't actually aggravated. She wouldn't have stopped painting otherwise.

You aren't going to eat it…you hate the dining hall's tempura…

Please?

"Oh, good grief, here!" she said testily, throwing the four shrimp and the sweet potatoes with batter onto a separate plate and setting them loudly on the floor. Hidaruma scrambled up in a flurry of fur and clacking claws, running to the plate and digging in.

"Hungry, was he? Should I have brought more?"

"No," she murmured as he sat down across from her, flipping through a loose group of papers he had brought with him as she crossed her pajama-clad legs. "I'll be good with the rice and broccoli. But what's all that?"

He took a deep breath before giving her a weird look.

"Well—you know that the squad is very happy with you. Most of them are so happy to have a Yamamoto leading the division that nothing else enters their mind. And you've made everything run much more efficiently—"

"Cut out the waffle, Shuuhei. What's up?"

"You got your first complaint." He handed the top sheet to her very tentatively.

She read through it slowly, chewing on a piece of broccoli as she perused the paper. This was her first complaint? Seriously? The First would see this and laugh their asses off.

"Taichou?"

"You expect me to worry about this?"

"Well, they do go to the First."

"This shinigami wrote a complaint that I, and I quote, laughed at him then proceeded to scream at him because of his loss of control when trying to perform Hadou 4." She raised an eyebrow.

"It's not exactly positive reinforcement, taichou," he said, although she could see the smile he was fighting off.

"No, but it was funny as hell to watch it explode in his face."

"Taichou, please," he said, laughing.

"Would you like to know why it took so long for Seireitei to fight off the Arrancar during Aizen's uprising?" He looked at her, taken aback, her tone warning him that she was about to explode into a verbal barrage. "Because you people can't take shit anymore! If I turned something like this in 300 years ago Tessai would've used me for barrier practice. It's not my fault I found it funny that a seated officer couldn't manage to pull off a spell that I've seen first year Academy students use in their sleep."

"Taichou—"

"No, I'm serious! When I was young, you could laugh at shit. You did something wrong, you expected it. And when the taichou made it known that you were a fucking idiot, you took it." She flung the paper back at him, and he threw it back on top of the pile of papers that went to the First. "Little whiny bitches," she muttered.

"They aren't all that bad, you know."

"Thank God. Otherwise I'd turn myself in tomorrow and spend my century of service behind bars." She looked at him, her eyes narrowed. "Transfer the little punk. If he wants soft, give him soft. After a few years in the Fourth he'll think differently."

"Yes, taichou. But—well, I know there are other seated officers that have problems with kidō, even a fuku-taichou or two."

"Would they cry like a toddler when I laughed at them for it? 'Cause I never did when Shunsui laughed at me—I might've been faking it, but it counts. Faking always counts."

"That's horrible."

She gave him a glare without much heat—she heard the amusement in his tone.

Is that over?

Yes.

Do you think he could get me more?

She rolled her eyes.

He is NOT your personal servant, lazy dog.

I cannot exactly wander over to the dining hall and grab my own, insensitive onna.

She stared down at the yellow eyes looking up at her from near her waist. They softened into the Puppy Look, one she was very familiar with, and she sighed before bending and shuffling her broccoli onto his plate.

That is not meat, onna. It isn't even a root.

No, but it IS tempura. Eat it.

But I don't want broccoli, he said grumpily.

Then you'll get nothing and like it.

She heard someone cough, and she looked over to see her fuku-taichou covering a grin with his hand.

"Yes, yes, it's all funny until he thinks you're the one to go to for food and he's following you around and waking you up at three in the morning because he wants sushi." She glared at the dog. "You're a zanpakutou—act like it, mutt."

He huffed before he bent down and literally inhaled the broccoli.

"When we dealt with our sword spirits running loose Kazeshini was much more trouble. I wonder if they are contrary on purpose or if that signifies something of our natures?"

"I think it says something about us, not zanpakutou in general. I can be just as stubborn and I throw a better temper tantrum."

"You do not eat half as well as he does," he said accusingly, and she shrugged.

"No one eats as much as the shishi, other than Yoruichi. And she can turn into an animal; maybe there is something to that…"

"Well, perhaps if you stopped giving him most of your meals, taichou."

"I've gained weight!" she exclaimed, affronted. "I've put on five pounds in two weeks! How fat do you want me?"

"Kotetsu-san says we're aiming for at least another two kilos before—"

There was another knock at the door.

They both looked up, surprised. Usually Shuuhei was the only one that came to her quarters to get her or bring her anything, although they couldn't discount a message. He was here already, so someone else could have been sent to them.

She wasn't expecting any visitors, either; Akane, Isane, and Nanao all tended to make sure she knew they were coming.

"I'll get it, taichou," he said, already out of the chair before she could even move toward the door.

No more tempura if you can't do your job.

Broccoli, onna. You deserve this.

Shuuhei slid the door open quickly, and they both looked shocked when they saw who was waiting on the other side. She scrambled up from her chair, almost knocking over her teacup.

Shuuhei turned towards her, his look of surprise quickly morphing into a grin, before he gave a jaunty little salute and stepped aside. Ukitake-taichou moved into the room and Shuuhei flashed to the table, gathering his papers and her forgotten dishes before flashing back to the entrance. He turned to slide the door shut, his grin positively evil now.

"I'll see you in the morning, taichou."

Hidaruma scrambled up and through the door with her fuku-taichou at record speed as she glared at them both, and she was left alone in her quarters with her visitor.

"I wasn't interrupting anything, was I?" he said, and she was sure she heard something unusual in his voice.

"No," she muttered, her hand scrubbing her face. She knew she had forgotten something in all the excitement today. It was her fault the guards had let him get this far. She knew she had to remind every squad when they took over posting!

"Ah. We need to talk, Minako."

She stared at him, then sighed, gesturing to the couch. He didn't move, just stood there taking in his surroundings.

She couldn't outrun him anymore.
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The Noble Sort