Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Yin’s fingers slipped from Hei’s hand as she scrambled in through the hospital window. He held position, toes gripping mortared seams in the outer wall, scanning Karakura’s night for watching eyes. He couldn’t just knock out power to nearby lights to give them cover. This was a hospital. People would notice.

And the less he used his power, the better. They’d hurt the Syndicate in Tokyo. There was no way they’d destroyed it. As soon as the survivors of that shadowy organization picked up the pieces, they’d realize he’d wrecked their once in a decade chance to destroy Hell’s Gate... and with it, every Contractor and Doll on the planet.

I was the only one who could stop it. I’ll be the only one who can stop it again. They’ll want me dead.

Because of his power. Bai’s power.

Xing. When I saw her - she was Xing again.

He hadn’t seen Xing since he’d left Li Tian behind to become the Syndicate’s Black Reaper. He’d given up hope of ever seeing his beloved sister again. As the girl she’d been, not the Contractor she’d become.

Now he had, for one last heart-stopping moment, and... he didn’t know what to do or feel or even be next. Xing said he wasn’t a Contractor. That he’d never been a Contractor.

But for the past five years he hadn’t been human, either. He healed too fast. Moved too easily. And power curled under his skin like silken static; like a cat shoved into a walking harness, scheming just what twists might let it slip loose and wreak acrobatic chaos.

Focus. I’ve had this power for five years. I use it. It doesn’t use me.

Listening to the small sounds of a suburban night, Hei slipped in and closed the window. The ease of escape wasn’t worth the risk of a passing night nurse noticing a draft. Yin’s specter flitting through various IV bags ought to give them enough warning to lay low, but - better safe than sorry.

A small room. Only one bed. In it was their target; a balding man creeping past middle age, with a face only familiarity let Hei grace with the term homely.

Not our target. Our partner.

A warmth inside him that almost hurt. It was real. This feeling of trust, of relief - it was real. Because he wasn’t a Contractor.

Yet Amber had said Contractors and Dolls were changing, that Bai had changed and not told him to protect him, that Contractors had started calling each other friend-

Amber led a charge on Hell’s Gate that killed dozens of Contractors and hundreds of Dolls. I don’t care how many times she said she rewound time, there had to be a better way-!

Hei shoved the pain and confusion back. Amber... was dead. Evaporated from existence, all of her life’s time erased by the use of her power. Whatever she’d done or should have done, they had to deal with the fallout now. Or none of them might make it through the night.

“You three,” Huang took a raspy breath, IV-pierced hand fisting on pale blue sheets, “are idiots.”

Dark skirt brushing the bed, Yin took his other hand. “Partner.”

Huang cast a scowl at her; hunched his shoulders, and looked away. “Idiots.”

“Says the live idiot.” Mao pulled through a full cat-stretch at the foot of Huang’s bed, one long liquid flow of inky fur, then deliberately stepped on the ex-cop’s shins. “Hacking the Syndicate through the hospital LAN was a lot safer than trying to dig into their files on the run. I’m just glad I’ve spent enough time around you walking disasters to have the forethought to set up backup support systems for my program updates. And then backups for the backups. Would you believe the Syndicate locked me out of their network?”

“No kidding,” Huang said dryly. “You surprised? No updates mean your cat-brain crashes your damn Contractor mind; takes our team’s hacker off the board. Makes it easier to kill all of us. It’s only rational.”

“Funny.” Mao flicked his ear, and cast a violet glance at Hei. “Though he’s not wrong. It is dangerous for us to be in Karakura. Much more dangerous than for humans.”

A year ago even Hei might have shaken his head at taking a briefing from what looked like an ordinary black cat. By now he knew better. Mao was as sharp as any Contractor - as long as the chip in his ear kept his cat body connected to servers with enough processing power to maintain a human mind. “Why.”

After all, he remembered the last time they’d been in Karakura. Mao had been laughing at the rumors about Contractors not being able to come here... and then someone invisible had attacked him on a rooftop. Someone Hei had thought had to be another Contractor.

Only the way Mao had slipped and slid around exact answers to what was wrong in Karakura after that mess, there’d been something else at work.

Huang’s gut-shot. If Karakura hadn’t been so close, he’d be dead. The doctors patched him up, he should pull through - if we can stay under the Syndicate’s radar. But if there’s a threat here we don’t know about....

Mao twitched at Hei’s glare, whiskers flicking. “I didn’t tell you, because... well, none of the rumors we’d heard about Karakura actually described the real danger here. Things I’ve seen in other places, even on some of our assignments. But I’ve always been able to run away from them. And I hope to keep running.” He paused. “Karakura is haunted.”

“Haunted,” Hei said flatly.

“This is why I didn’t want to tell you,” Mao sighed. “You know that old folktale about cats seeing ghosts?” A furred shrug. “It’s not just a story.”

Hei blinked. Eyed Huang. Who was eyeing him and Mao with even more skepticism than usual. “You gotta be kidding me,” the ex-cop grumbled.

“There are ghosts here?” Reaching blindly, Yin found the visitor’s chair and sat, still not letting go of Huang. Though she did take one hand off to dip into her pocket, into the small bag of water she was carrying for her specters. “But Kiko says ghosts aren’t dangerous. Ghosts are just... sad.”

“The pink girl also thinks man-on-elephant fanfic is safe reading material,” Mao said dryly. “Believe me, ghosts can be plenty dangerous. Usually only to people who can see them... but, cats can. So.” Another, stiffer shrug. “And then there are the things that eat ghosts. They can touch anybody. And the ones I’ve run away from? Think Contractors smell delicious.”

Monsters that eat ghosts.

It sounded crazy. But after Hell’s Gate, where he’d talked to people who were dead and gone and changed the fabric of reality, sanity wasn’t half as clear-cut as Hei would have liked.

It’s Mao. Treat it as just another briefing. “Your urban legends said Karakura was haunted,” Hei stated, putting the pieces together. “That would make this a rich prey base. Prime predator territory.” A ghostly jungle. How fitting; the Black Reaper had been born in haunted jungles.

“For Contractors, walking into Karakura is like swimming in the Nile,” Mao confirmed. “Right by the crocodiles. It’s the safest place we can stash Huang, but we might not want to stick around ourselves. Sometimes those black samurai take out the monsters before they can devour a ghost, but... sometimes, they’re just too late.” He licked a paw, swiped it against his whiskers. “I’d rather not be collateral damage.”

“Black samurai.” Huang’s tone was a clear, I’m taking the catnip away now.

Hei had an awful, awful feeling. “Invisible samurai?”

“Invisible to humans, yes.” Fangs gleamed; Mao’s brightest grin. “I honestly wasn’t sure you could affect him. I’d only seen them interact with ghosts and monsters before. But if the monsters can eat Contractors, and the samurai can kill monsters, then it makes sense that a Contractor could hit a samurai.” Violet eyes half-closed, amused. “So if something invisible tries to eat you, make like a bug zapper. Or maybe a power line. Some of them are very big.”

“Huge invisible monsters,” Hei deadpanned. “Hunted by samurai. In the middle of Japan.”

“Earthquakes hide a lot of damage.” Mao’s tail flicked. “All I can tell you is what I’ve seen. They show up, they tell the ghosts they’re here to protect them, they fight the monsters. Sometimes they win. Then they hilt-shot the poor dead bastards and the ghosts turn into black butterflies.”

Even Yin stared at that one.

Furred shoulders hunched. “Why did you think I didn’t want to talk about it? It all sounds crazy.” Mao’s tail fluffed; a huff of frustration. “It just happens to be true. That’s why we brought Huang here.”

“Oh, I gotta hear this,” Huang muttered. “You thought dumping me in a hospital near monsters was a good idea?”

“Monsters that will eat other Contractors. Yes,” Mao said impatiently. “The Syndicate’s looking for you and you’re in no shape to run. Karakura General was close enough for us to get you here and still let Hei and Yin breach Hell’s Gate in time to stop the Syndicate from wiping us all out. It was the rational decision.” A violet glance. “You did stop them?”

“For ten years,” Hei agreed. “And Chief Kirihara got some interesting evidence on the head of the Syndicate. They might have a little... trouble, getting organized to come after us.”

“Just as well you never killed her,” Mao mused. “That irrational streak of yours can come in handy sometimes. Weird.”

Hei hid a bitter smile. You have no idea-

Wait. Wait, that was... a possibility.

Yin tilted her head at him. “You thought of something.”

It was crazy. But everyone knew Contractors were rational. “The rest of the Syndicate. They’ll expect us to flee the country.”

Mao’s whiskers flicked. “Well, of course they will, because who knows how many of them are still out there and they know we’ve turned on them. They’ll send every Contractor they have to wipe us out. Running’s the only sane thing to do-”

“So we won’t,” Yin said firmly.

“Ah.” Huang smirked, though it turned half a grimace as he tried to sit up. “Now you’re finally talking sense.”

“You can’t seriously be considering this.” Mao swept disbelieving eyes over all of them. “What are we supposed to do, just go to ground and blend in?”

Hei let himself smile. “Why not?”

“You are crazy.”

“Nah, practical. Think it through, furball,” Huang snorted. “You run, you have to get out of the country. How? Legal? Yin got smuggled into Japan like luggage, you’d need fake vet records, and I bet Li Shengshun’s passport got yanked hours ago. Illegal? Syndicate’s got ears and eyes in every dock and airport. I know. I’ve been them.”

“We can’t run without hitting their net,” Hei nodded. “I might make it. You and Yin wouldn’t.”

Mao squinted at him, bristling for an argument... then huffed a sigh, and laid down, tail-tip twitching. “Damn.”

“Huh. You don’t believe it from me, but you do from him?” Huang grumped.

“I’ve read both your files,” Mao said dryly. “You’re not the expert at exfiltrating hostile countries after you’ve set their secret lab and their spies on fire.”

Not fair. Not fair at all. “The fire was not my fault.”

Mao craned his head back, neck a perfect arch of feline disbelief.   

“You had a good reason,” Yin said confidently.

As if he’d burn down a building on purpose. That last warehouse had been Mai’s power, not his. Blowing the hole in the Gate’s wall had been Wei’s work. And he’d needed to set up the explosives in Huang’s car and set it on remote so they’d have a distraction to get to the tunnels in the first place....

Deliberately, Hei stopped thinking about Huang, and desperate measures, and what they might have done if Mao hadn’t found them another option. He’d already lost Xing and Amber. If he’d lost anyone else, he might not have cared if the Syndicate found him.

Let’s make sure they don’t. “Mao. You can see the monsters?”

“Yes,” Mao drew out the word, eyes narrowed to dubious slits. “But-”

“Then we should go to ground here.” Hei gave the cat a flat look. “The Syndicate has more than just Contractors. As long as we’re in Japan, we can get to caches. Emergency funds. IDs. Here, this close to Tokyo, Section Four will be in position to counter any obvious moves the Syndicate makes. But we’re far enough away that Astronomics Dolls won’t track us as well. They’ll know our stars mean we’re close, but as long as we don’t use our powers, they won’t know where.”

Mao’s ears flattened. “If one of those ghost-eaters shows up, you will use it. You’ll have to.”

Yin breathed out, slow and soft. “...I can ask them not to find us.”

Black ears shot up. “You can?”

Huang’s jaw worked, but he bit back whatever it was. Good. Hei had a feeling it would have been a cutting remark about that really coming in handy on past missions, and... Yin might not have been aware enough to try. Not then. “You can, Yin?” Hei asked, trying for gentle. “Are you sure?”

A hesitation, then one quick nod. “I told the other Dolls what the Syndicate was trying to do. When we were breaking in. So they wouldn’t stop us. They know we all almost died.”

Dolls and Contractors; the Syndicate had meant to kill them all. Amber had told Hei he’d survive, but - if Bai was really part of him now, how could she be sure?

“I can ask,” Yin went on. “Not - don’t tell them where. Just... don’t tell them exactly.”

“Huh.” Huang squeezed her hand, just enough to feel. “Good kid. We can work with that.” He slid a glance toward Hei. “You’ll still have to move fast-”

Yin’s head lifted. “Someone’s coming.” She blinked. “He’s careful, but... I think he saw.”

Saw her specter, she meant; ghostly eyes shifting from water to water to give them warning. Contractor.

“Well, that was quick.” Huang almost grinned. “Should’ve figured. Bullet wounds get reported.” Grimacing, he sank back against the pillow. “Okay, kid. Time to scram.”

Hei met his gaze, and shook his head. “No.”

Huang growled under his breath. “Don’t be an idiot. Take the Doll and the furball and get out of here.”

Hei stepped silently over to the blind spot where the door would swing open, nerves alight for any quiver of air that might hint the Contractor was coming straight through the wall. The mask was a lead weight in his pocket, but... low-level Syndicate might not know his face. They would know the mask. “No.”

“Don’t waste time arguing with him.” Mao coiled and leapt onto Yin’s shoulder, claws digging into her jacket as she moved back next to the window. “Who knows. This one might be rational.”

The room went silent, only broken by monitors checking Huang still had a heartbeat. Hei half-closed his eyes, listening to the intercom in the hall, the buzz of lights, the quiet but non-nonsense formal shoes approaching Huang’s door-

Footsteps stopped.

He’s in front of the door. Hei listened for any shift in weight. Not reaching for the knob?

A throat cleared. “Normal visiting hours are over. But I can make an exception, in exchange for information on my patient’s condition.”

Condition? Hei kept his face blank, listening to that icy, formal tone. Huang was shot.

“I’d really like to know if the denizens of Hueco Mundo have started haunting IV bags. It could complicate treatment.”

Hollow World?

Spanish in Japan. Definitely not a good sign. Most older Contractors spoke Spanish, or Portuguese; the ones who’d survived Heaven’s War, at least.

But Huang had a thoughtful frown, raising his free hand a bare fraction of an inch off the sheets. Hold. Wait. “Door’s open, Doc...?”

“Dr. Ishida Ryuuken.” A breath. “And you can tell your associates I am armed - but you are my patient. I’d prefer it if no one ended up more injured than they are already.”

Hei raised a brow at Huang. It was his life on the line.

“Come in easy,” Huang said plainly. “They’re a little... twitchy.”

“Given the amount of lead we had to pull out of you, I’m not surprised.” A matter-of-fact turn of the handle, and the door opened.

Left-handed. Middle-aged, physically fit, white hair, glasses. Hei noted movement and stance, not twitching from where he stood out of sight. The doctor’s coat over the white suit was an odd combination, but who knew if he’d borrowed it? Not balanced for close attacks... distance fighter. Gunman? Long-range power?

Whether the coat was his or not, Ishida’s first stop was Huang’s pulse. Timing it with his own watch, and only then checking the monitors.

He doesn’t trust the electronics.

Which was not at all an argument in favor of not being their enemy, because why would he not, unless he knew BK-201 was in the area-?

“Good,” Ishida stated. “The residual spirit energies aren’t interfering with hospital equipment.” He gave Huang a long look, and only then glanced at Yin and Mao balancing on her shoulder. “Given you left power all over his soul to bolster his endurance enough to survive surgery, I’m half surprised they’re working at all....”

A twitch of surprise in the lines of white cloth. Hei’s hand fell to a knife. He knows I’m here.

“Three separate traces,” Ishida said coolly. Deliberately not turning. “I have no intention of attacking patients. Or their next of kin. I’d prefer it if we continued this discussion face to face.” His head tilted, but he did not look back. “Or do you not believe in the Hippocratic Oath?”

“All Contractors are liars.” But Hei lifted his hand from black steel, and walked into plain view. All Contractors lied. Yet some did have a sense of... code, if not morality. Mao was one. The cat would preserve his own life first, yes - but he wouldn’t act to harm their team. Ishida might be the same. If only for self-interest.

After all, a hospital had so many potential hostages.

I’m not a Contractor. I shouldn’t want to hurt innocent people.

He didn’t think he wanted to. He didn’t want to hurt anyone. But death was what he knew, and Huang-

Huang was part of his team.

Ishida gave him a long, assessing look, head to toe; Hei thought the man might have actually spotted most of the knives. “It appears I ought to have more than one patient. Sit down before you fall down.”

“I’m fine.”

Huang’s eyes narrowed, and he huffed. “Sure you are. When you get out of here, you find somewhere safe and crash. Yin? Make sure he sleeps.”

Yin walked away from the window, fingers not quite brushing Hei’s. “Yes.”

Ishida turned that assessing gaze back on Huang. “Exhaustion?”

“Think we’ve been up a couple days by now.” Huang shifted one shoulder; an approximation of a shrug. “Even you guys are - heh. Only human.”

Behind glass, blue eyes narrowed. Hei gazed right back at that calculating look, wondering just what Ishida was adding up. And how deadly his conclusions might be.

“An’ speaking of safe....” Huang gave the doctor a flat stare. “Who do you work for?”

That seemed to startle Ishida. Or possibly annoy him. “I told you. I’m one of the head doctors here-”

“Don’t play dumb,” Huang gritted out. “You’re standing here and not killing people who tell you no. If you’ve got it together enough to be a doctor somebody picked you up and cleaned up the bodies until you got your Contract under control. Who? The Russians? MI6? DGSE?”

Ishida touched the side of his glasses, as if buying time to think. “Are you informing me that there are hunters of the supernatural insane enough to work for foreign intelligence agencies?”

Hunters of what? Hei wanted to ask. But first things first. “All Contractors are rational. You should know.”

Unless he was a stabilized Moratorium, like Klang had been; maintaining a Contractor’s powers without slipping into the blank trances of a Doll-state, holding onto human emotions and free of remuneration. It didn’t seem likely. What were the odds there’d been another escaped survivor from Project Wigenlied?

MI6 stole some of that project’s data. They might have the formula to stabilize Moratoria.

...I wonder if that’s what they think I am?

“Contractors.” Ishida tasted the word, as if he’d never heard it before. “There was something on the news, in Tokyo. An attack on the wall around Hell’s Gate. They used that word. Is that what you three are?”

Mao blinked, as Ishida’s gaze included him. “Prrrt?”

“I know a possessing spirit when I see one,” Ishida said dryly. “I’ve never seen an ikiryou completely detached from its original human body-”

A what?

“-and I have no idea how you’re keeping yourself together in an animal form. But I know perfectly well you understand me.”

Mao seemed to shrug. “Fine.”

A black cat spoke, and Ishida didn’t turn a hair. Hei tried not to feel disappointed.

“Let’s make a deal,” Mao went on. “You tell us what an ikiryou is, and why you think you’re not a Contractor, and I’ll try to get us all out of your hair before one of those ghost-eating things decides to munch on us.”

“You will?” Ishida’s eyes narrowed. “First, tell me this. For the sake of my other patients - will there be more bullets?”

“Er....”

“If you reported this shooting, then we need to move,” Hei stated. “That’s not an option. Two of us they might just use, but they will kill Huang if they find him.” He paused, giving the doctor a moment to think. “If you didn’t... then we should have broken our trail. For now.”

“The paperwork hasn’t been filed,” Ishida said plainly. “I’ll ensure it’s not.”

Hei tried not to visibly tense. Too easy.

“Because he’s my patient.” A hint of exasperation crept into Ishida’s tone. “I have some experience with being hunted. You may not be entirely human but you went to no little effort to make sure your associate would survive. I’m inclined to give you the benefit of the doubt, even if your enemies are human.”

Yin tilted her head, likely trying to make out the blur of the doctor against the room’s lights. “You’ll help?”

“Within reason.” Ishida looked over them all. “If you do think you’ve been found, I’d like enough warning to keep my hospital out of the line of fire.”

A sane, rational, selfish request. Hei almost breathed a sigh of relief. They could work with this.

Whoever Ishida was, he had enough experience to feel the tension drop. The doctor nodded, and glanced at Mao. “An ikiryou is a living ghost. All or a portion of someone’s spirit sent out at a distance, for purposes that may be harmless or actively malevolent. You appear to be one that has detached completely from your body; which implies your original life is either in a coma, or dead.”

Mao tilted his head, whiskers one slow flick. “Explosions don’t leave much. And... interesting. I’d read about displaced spirits in folklore, years ago, but I didn’t know you had a word for them here.”

The way glasses gleamed, Ishida had just added that to whatever pieces of their puzzle he’d put together. “As for Keiyakusha... I’d never heard Contractors referred to until those explosions on the news last night. But I would say I am not one, simply because the traditions of training spiritual abilities I am familiar with generally do not have to train people not to kill. Rather the reverse. Sometimes an exorcist has no choice but to destroy a possessed body, but taking a life... it’s never easy.”

Hei traded a glance with Mao, and then a shocked Huang. If Ishida wasn’t lying-

Then he’s right. He’s not a Contractor.

So what is he?

“There are traditions?” Yin stood a little straighter, eyes alight. “Everyone said... no one knew what we were.”

“There are several traditions.” Ishida regarded her with something that might have been a shadow of compassion. “I am a doctor. I can diagnose more accurately with a list of symptoms.”

“Symptoms?” Yin’s fingers found her skirt, twisted in purple cloth. “Years ago, everything... went away. I didn’t start coming back until we were partners.” She breathed. “And I’m still not her. I’m Yin.”

“Yin’s a Doll,” Huang said flatly. “Pretty feisty one, too. She can look after herself, with a little help. Most of ‘em can’t even walk without orders. Nobody knows how they’re tied up with Contractors. Only people who end up in-between flatline into a Doll in a couple months. Or less.”

Mao bristled. “You’re just going to-”

“Stifle it, fish-breath,” Huang ordered. “If the guys after us catch up to the doc, they’ll wipe his memories anyway. If the cops catch him, they’ll do it too. Doc at least better know the stakes. And who knows. Maybe he can help.”

“You have a point,” Mao allowed.

Ishida was stiff, outrage frosting deliberate words. “The police would wipe memories of what you are.”

“Been doing it ever since the Gates opened,” Huang informed him. “S’why I’m not a cop anymore. Lose a piece of me, or work with the monsters? Not much choice.” He blew out a breath, as if it were laced with cigarette smoke. “Contractors... they’ve been happening since the Gates. No one knows how. No one knows why. Some poor bastard will wake up one morning - or evening, or in the middle of a train station and isn’t that a damn bloodbath - and they’ve got a power. A Contract. And part of what makes ‘em a person is just... gone.”

“By part, he means that annoying thing you humans refer to as a conscience,” Mao observed, leaning closer to Yin’s neck to steady himself. “Bear in mind, we’re not all out to rack up massive body counts. It’s just, that first month or so after your star appears, you don’t see any reason not to.”

One of Ishida’s brows twitched, as if that symptom rang a bell. “And after that month?”

“Er. Well. It depends,” Mao said thoughtfully. “Most of the Contractors I’ve dealt with were, ah, located by various groups within a few weeks. Which is long enough that you’ve figured out that you can’t figure out humans anymore. But you still need to eat. At which point your options go to petty crime or signing up with whoever says they’ll train you how to use your power and give you work. Most Contractors take a job offer. Especially when it’s backed up by food and assassins. It’s the only rational thing to do.”

From the pinched look on Ishida’s face, he was working hard to restrain a very irrational reply. “So you learn not to kill your employers?” He gestured toward Huang. “If they want your associate dead, wouldn’t it be rational to use him as a bargaining chip for your own life?”

“Of course not!” Mao’s fur puffed at the very thought. “Hei would kill me.”

“You wouldn’t do it,” Hei said mildly.

“Because I’d come down with a sudden case of dead.” Mao shook out his fur. “No thank you.”

“You wouldn’t turn any of us in,” Hei stated. “You’ve had the chance before. You didn’t take it.”

Mao hissed under his breath. “...You’re annoying.”

Yin lifted her hand, fingers just brushing behind black ears. “You like it when we make life interesting.”

“Those fingers are a cheat,” Mao muttered, craning his head back into the scritch anyway. “A Doll who knows how to get her own way. It’s unnatural.”

“Don’t take these guys as standard,” Huang advised Ishida. “They’ve been Contractors for years. They can fake human when they have to. Most of the time.” His gaze fell. “Some of ‘em can fake it real well.”

Hei didn’t have to guess what that look meant. “I’m sorry about Shihoko.”

“She shouldn’t have done it,” Huang muttered. “Not for an old sack like me.”

“You made her feel warm,” Hei said quietly, thinking of that blaze of determination before the Syndicate Contractor had stepped in front of a truck. Choosing her death, instead of Huang’s. “You don’t know how much we’d kill for that.” Or die for it.

Mao pulled away from Yin’s fingers, studying Ishida’s still face. “And that means something to you. A symptom.”

“It does,” the doctor admitted. “How much do all of you know about spirits? Or soul-injuries?”

“Mao says ghosts exist, monsters eat them, samurai hunt the monsters,” Yin stated. A hint of doubt crossed her face. “He also said the samurai turn ghosts into butterflies.”

Ishida covered a cough. “That’s... not accurate, but an easy mistake to make. The shinigami summon hell butterflies to carry wandering spirits to the next world.”

“Shinigami?” Hei pounced. Usually his Japanese was good, but this was odd. It sounded like his code name in Japanese. That couldn’t be right. “Death gods?”

“Spiritual entities that escort and protect souls that have lingered past death.” Ishida touched his glasses. “Some of them do a better job than others. It’s their duty to fight Hollows; spirits that were once ghosts themselves, but have become corrupt and monstrous.”

“And cannibalistic,” Mao observed. “Great. But if they eat ghosts, why do they keep sniffing around Contractors?”

“Hollows will eat anything with high spirit energy.” Ishida regarded the cat coolly. “The three of you definitely qualify. Fortunately it seems you also have some idea how to shield it, or we’d have Hollows crawling out of the woodwork. That would make me very annoyed.”

“Practical.” Mao raised one paw in a deliberate aside. “I think I could get to like him.”

“Spirit energy?” A faint frown bent Yin’s face as she pointed to the IV, where ghostly eyes bloomed. “My specters?”

“Spirit energy is what allows you to manifest those... you call them specters?” The doctor peered at the haunted liquid, touching the bag with one finger. “I’ve seen something like this on the power lines in Karakura this past year. I thought it was more shinigami experiments.”

Spiritual entities that ran experiments? Hei shook his head. The night just kept getting stranger.

“Astronomics Dolls.” Huang grimaced. “They work for Section Four. Spying. Tracking down... well, people like us.”

“The best thing to do is pretend you don’t see them,” Hei advised. “The police will assume you’re a Contractor. Section Four carries guns. And mind-wiping equipment.”

Ishida eyed him narrowly. “I take it saying I’m not would not go over well.”

“They wouldn’t believe you,” Hei said simply. “There’s no way to tell a human from a Contractor. Unless they use their power.”

Ishida frowned. Turned back to the IV bag, flattening his hand against clear plastic as if to get as close as possible to the pale glow. “It’s not an exact match, young lady, and there’s a definite overtone of Hollow frequencies, but... I would say your specter is reasonably close to the animating force of a shikigami.”

“Shikigami?” Yin brightened. “Those are in manga.”

“Hollow?” Fur bristled over Mao’s shoulders. “Wait, are you saying we’re like cannibalistic spirit-monsters?”

Hei cleared his throat.

Mao blinked, and almost looked sheepish. “Well, most of us don’t have remunerations like Carmine’s! Thank god.” The cat rearranged himself on Yin’s shoulder, sitting up like an Egyptian statue. “If she’d gotten her power back- that would have been so messy.”

“Human spiritual abilities tend to have one of three overtones.” Ishida gave the cat another long look. “Shinigami, Hollow, or youkai. There are others, but they’re rare. It’s not a comment on individual morality. Some souls simply resonate more with one type of entity than another.” He glanced at Hei. “Remuneration?”

“Contracts have a price.” But I never did, and I never knew why.... “Use your power, you have to pay. Some of us eat flowers. Some write poetry. Some have to break their own fingers. Some... are worse.” Hei shrugged. “If you don’t pay the price, you die.”

“Well, unless your body did die,” Mao put in. “We ran into another possessor who’d lost his body, once. He didn’t have a price anymore either.” Ears perked. “And that sounds like a symptom too?”

“It might be,” Ishida allowed. “Physical bodies tend to put limits on how much spiritual power a person can unleash. Many exorcists require rituals to perform their duties, or to recover afterward.” He frowned. “But I would rather not speculate without more solid information. May I examine your auras?”

Yin stirred. “Will it hurt?”

“Will it-?” The doctor cut himself off, cold eyes softening. “No, young lady. It shouldn’t hurt at all.”

“Good,” Yin nodded. “Hei’s tired.”

Ishida’s brows jumped. He glanced at Hei again, just a little wary. Then at Huang.

“Eh, he’s been worse off,” Huang grumped. “Just don’t startle him if he’s sleeping. You want to go first, Yin? It’ll make them feel better if they can watch.”

From that almost hidden smile, Ishida had heard loud and clear, So they can tear him apart if he even looks like hurting you.

“I don’t mind.” Yin looked up. “What do I do?”

“Sit still,” the doctor stated. “I need to be close enough to sense the energy clearly, but I should not have to touch you.”

Good, Hei thought, watching like a hawk. He didn’t know how Yin had been examined after the Syndicate had found her, but he’d gone through enough of his own involuntary visits to their labs to guess. Syndicate researchers were just as ruthless as their assassins. Though they usually didn’t leave as many bodies.

Ishida seemed good as his word, though; hand a bare inch above Yin’s white hair, eyes half-closing as-

Hei tensed, looking at the impossible. Green light. Not blue-white. Not synchrotron radiation.

And only around Ishida’s hand. The rest of him looked - normal.

Not a Contractor.

One minute stretched into three, before Ishida raised his head, green fading. “Hmm. There’s definitely soul damage.”

Yin’s hand strayed to black fur. “Is that bad?”

“It’s old, and seems to be healing, if slowly,” the doctor stated, shaking out his hand. “But it’s very deep. More than enough to explain a fractured sense of self.” He regarded her soberly. “Miss Yin. I will need more observations to be sure, but it’s likely your soul will never be the same as it was before you were injured. Whatever wounded you tore right down to the foundations. I would honestly say you’re lucky to be alive.”

Yin nodded. “Partners help.”

“They would.” Ishida glanced at Huang. “So far as I can determine, her power is somewhere between a medium’s and a creator of shikigami. Both of those abilities require the user to ground themselves in the real world to stay healthy. Family and friends, any close emotional bonds, can be the difference between life and simply fading out of existence.”

Huang chewed on his lip as if he’d tasted something worse than his cigarettes. “Dolls usually get shopped around wherever people need spies. Or shoved into Astronomics and left to float. Yin being with us for months - doesn’t happen, almost ever. That why she got better?”

“It would make a difference.” Ishida stared into violet eyes. “Well, Mr. Mao?”

“Just Mao works,” the cat sniffed. “I’m more used to that than my old name, anyway.” He leaned against Yin’s head. “Scan away.”

Ishida held his hand above black ears, green shimmering again. Flinched. “That is... I don’t know what attacked you, but it needs to be stopped.”

“Seriously?” Mao didn’t move out from under the glow, evidently satisfied that yes, Ishida was acting as a doctor. For now. “Contractors and Dolls - they just happen. Nobody’s been able to find any cause.”

“This kind of specific damage does not just happen,” Ishida said tightly. “It’s the metaphysical equivalent of... the closest thing I can think of is excising the brain’s capacity for emotional bonding. Without touching the rest of the higher functions. You didn’t become sociopathic out of thin air. Something tore your soul’s heart right out of you.”

Mao swallowed.

Huang pursed his lips in a soundless whistle. “An’ that sounds familiar, huh Doc?”

Lifting his hand, Ishida inclined his head. “The damage is less extreme; their physical bodies survived. But it’s similar to the damage done by a Hollow attacking another soul.” He grimaced. “Or the hole in the heart created when a soul’s Chain of Fate corrodes, transforming an innocent ghost into yet another Hollow. But that shouldn’t happen to a living human. It shouldn’t even be possible.”

Huang nodded slowly. “So this is something up your alley.”

“No.” Ishida shook his head. “I’ve seen injuries similar to this, and I may know methods to treat some of the damage. Though the wounds are old and scarred over; any healing will be limited. But I’ve never seen or heard of anything that could inflict such specific trauma.”

Hei felt his nerves twitch. “But you know something.”

Ishida glanced at him. Let a long breath sigh out.

Another smoker, Hei thought. No scent clinging to him; only under stress?

“There was a shinigami who went insane.” Ishida paused, obviously picking his words. “I don’t know all the details. I do my best to avoid those sword-swinging lunatics whenever possible. But I know that he... created things. Using Hollows.” A gleam of cold glass. “Apparently he enjoyed setting them loose on innocents.”

Fur rose down Mao’s spine; the cat pressed himself into Yin’s neck as if he could hide under her hair. “Hmph. I was never innocent.”

“So you got a suspect, but you don’t know,” Huang stated. “Any way you can find out?”

The doctor’s brows twitched. “Possibly. But asking questions has its own risks.”

“You’d draw attention.” Hei glanced at Huang. “No.”

The older man glared at him, hairy knuckles clenching on the bed-sheets. “Look, if something hurt all of you-”

“Weren’t you listening? Whatever it was, if it was anything, it hurt us years ago. Going on a rampage after it now isn’t rational.” Mao settled his fur. “Once you can get out of that bed without falling on your face, then we might consider stirring up ghost hornet nests. Not before.”

Yin nodded. “You’re more important.”

“Much as I hate to resort to triage, they’re correct.” Ishida met Huang’s gaze. “A half-hour later and you might not have survived surgery. You’re in no shape to make a daring midnight escape.” Taking a small notepad out of his coat pocket, he scratched down a few characters. “Spiritual injuries fall within my realm of expertise, but I am not a specialist. If we take more time, that would allow me to gather second opinions discreetly.” A last scribble, and he looked at Hei. “This would go more easily if you’d sit down.”

Reluctantly, Hei took the chair Yin had used, flicking his coat open enough for a knife-grab without a second thought. He hadn’t seen anything that made Ishida an assassin yet....

But the best assassins looked harmless. He should know.

“So,” Ishida murmured, hand lifted. “One medium, one living ghost, and....”

Hei listened to that silence, and deliberately did not twitch.

Ishida let out a slow breath. “I need a closer look.”

Hei didn’t move. Yin needed help. Huang did. Even Mao deserved anything Ishida could do for him. “Okay.”

Ishida’s hand on his head was warm and impersonal; contact, without being intrusive. It could be worse.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Wait. Just like setting up a target.

“And one formerly possessed.” The doctor lifted his hand away again, face set. “The spirit left less than a day ago. From the damage, I would say it was inside you for years, and you are incredibly lucky it didn’t Hollow in that time.”

Mao’s stare was flat and hard. “What.”

Hei almost smiled, appreciating the irony. What had Mao said about not wanting to sound crazy? “He’s right.”

“What.”

Hearing their own echo, Huang and Mao glared at each other. Yin touched one finger to the corner of her lips, as if she’d pull them up into a wry smile, then looked at Hei. “Was it friendly?”

“Sort of?” Hei shrugged, feeling the doctor’s assessing stare. “I didn’t know until just before she left.”

“Hmm.” Ishida made another note. “So you have some idea of the ghost’s identity. Do you know how long you were possessed?”

“Five years.” Hei thought back. “I could probably tell you the date. More or less. Time got weird in Heaven’s Gate and I was... unconscious for a while after they found me.”

“Wait,” Mao muttered. “Five years ago, Heaven’s Gate... oh no. No, you cannot be serious.”

Hei gave the cat a wry glance. “What do they say about things always being the last place you look?”

“Bai?” Mao almost squeaked. “She was - for five years you’ve been shaking down Contractors for any clue and- She possessed you? You never said she was a possessor!”

“She wasn’t,” Hei said simply. He met Ishida’s gaze, determined not to run from the truth. “Ten years ago my sister became a Contractor.” And killed - no. Not important now. “I was her older brother. I couldn’t just let them take her. So... I went with her.” Even when there was blood on my hands, and the nightmares wouldn’t stop screaming. “Five years ago we were in Heaven’s Gate when someone tried to destroy it, and kill all the Contractors with it. I didn’t know about that part until yesterday.” Breathe. “I woke up in an aid clinic just outside the warped zone; the rest of the team was either dead or scattered across the world. Bai’s star said she ought to be right there, but no one could locate her. The people we worked for wanted answers. They didn’t believe I didn’t know.”

He’d thought he’d kept his face calm. Ishida twitched anyway.

“That’s when I found out I had her star,” Hei said steadily. Trying not to think of the carnage he’d left behind that day, or the way electricity seemed to prickle under his skin now, like cat fur rubbed the wrong way. He’d learned to control the Contract years ago. Why was it being so pushy? “And her power.”

“You had-?” Mao buried his face in his paws. “Now I’m really confused.”

Ishida took a moment to take that in, brow climbing. “You didn’t know you were possessed?”

“I thought I was a Contractor.” Hei gave Mao a wry smile. “We’re not supposed to be sane.”

“Uh.” Huang was eyeing him like a flash-bang that’d gone fzzt. “Doc. I got what I’ve seen with my own eyes and a hell of a lot of dead enemies that says he is a Contractor.”

“On the other hand....” Mao lifted his head, gaze bemused. “That would explain a lot. The lack of remuneration. The astounding lack of rationality sometimes. Not to mention the habit of picking up stray Dolls, trapped police detectives, baby Yakuza....”

Hei glared at the cat. “He was a kid in over his head. I didn’t mean to get involved, I just....” He hunched his shoulders against the humor in Mao’s eyes. “He had a chance to get out. It wasn’t a threat to the mission.”

“Irrational,” Mao sing-songed. “Then again, that’s what makes you interesting.” His fur bristled. “Wait. If Bai’s gone - how can you still see specters?”

“I don’t know.” Hei gripped the chair, strangling the impulse to send a shock right down through the metal. Interfering with hospital equipment would be harmful to everyone in the vicinity. Worse, it’d paint BK-201 is here in spectrum fluctuations for all of Astronomics to see. “She’s gone, but I still have her power. Amber said I was caught between; that if all the Contractors died I’d be the only one who survived. I don’t know what I am.”

He could feel his team’s attention focus on the doctor, sharp as lasers.

Ishida drew himself up straight. Hei narrowed his eyes, ready to defend his team against the cutting remark he could almost feel vibrating the air-

The doctor took a second look, and sighed like a man at the absolute end of a very long rope.

“I have no idea,” Ishida confessed. “Their souls have gaping chasms. Some of the spiritual essence has grown back, but it seems more Hollow than mortal. Your soul is scarred, but mostly human.” He frowned, chin gripped between thumb and fingers. “There is one thing I know that might apply. Possession is feared because the possessing spirit damages the soul it’s forced its way into. Even when the act is voluntary on both sides, the possessor-” His brows pinched over his glasses. “You might think of it as a spiritual bonsai. The intruding spirit snips off pieces that don’t fit. And the host... grows around the intruder, just as a sapling would a wire frame. Given enough time, even if the wire vanishes, the shape remains.” He almost shrugged. “In short - Contractor abilities are spiritually based. I’d be more surprised if you didn’t have Bai’s power.”

So she’s still protecting me.

He was her older brother. It should have been him... but he’d never been able to change Xing’s mind about anything.

I can’t protect her anymore. But there is one thing I can do. “The methods you know,” Hei stated. “Would they help Yin?”

“I’d need to research subjects I haven’t looked into in years.” Ishida frowned. “But possibly. Though it might be easier to work on you.”

“Easier, but not rational.” Mao flicked an ear. “You’re a head doctor here. Your time to work on unusual cases will be limited. And we have no idea when we might have to bolt. However we might be injured, Hei and I are quite capable of taking care of ourselves when the lead starts flying. Yin....” He rubbed against her hair. “Hei’s told you to run a few times, and you have. But usually someone has to drag you. That’s not helpful.”

The doctor scowled at the cat.

“Mao’s right,” Yin nodded. “It’s hard for me to do things myself. I try. The programming helped; now I can do more. But it’s still hard.”

“Programming.” Ishida’s tone was flat and cold, in a way that twitched the hairs on Hei’s neck.

This is a man who can be dangerous.

“Dolls on their own are pretty much walking comas,” Huang stated, just as level. “Organizations can program ‘em to act like people, but it breaks down in a couple weeks. Yin - she came to me with a high-level package, so she could take care of herself ‘long as somebody gave her meals on time. She got... better since she’s been on the team. But if the guys after us got hold of her, they’d wipe her. And if the cops got her-” The old operative grimaced like he’d bitten pure wasabi. “I’d like to think they’d do better. But far as I know, cops send all the Dolls they sweep up to Astronomics. Floating in a tank for the rest of your life, only programmed to talk to computers - I ain’t doing that to Yin. Not if I can stop it.”

“I wouldn’t like it,” Yin said quietly. “I want to stay with my partners.”

“Then we’ll do our best to make that happen.” Ishida cast a glance over them all. “I’m not going to ask. But from what you’ve said, you’ve implied the organization you worked for was not legal.”

“Hmm.” Mao smirked. “Let’s just say, they have a lousy severance package. Usually involves bullets.”

“I see.” The doctor nodded. “And yet from what you describe, the legal system... refuses to treat you as human beings.”

“Well, why should they?” the cat shrugged. “We’re not. Not anymore. And if you tell them really all you’d like to do is sleep in the sun, eat canned salmon, and have some interesting work - why should they believe that? All Contractors are liars.”

“It’s not a matter of whether you’re human or not,” Ishida stated. “It’s whether we are.”

Mao’s ears flattened. “That’s not rational.”

“Humans are funny that way,” Huang smirked. “You’re a cat. Take advantage of it.”

“...You have a point.”

Hei tilted his head, catching Yin’s unfocused gaze on him. “Are you okay?”

“You said you’d protect me.” Her fingers caught her skirt again. “Is it okay...?”

Oh. “Part of protecting your partners is making sure they can protect themselves,” Hei told her. “It’s okay to want to do more. Even just to be able to run.”

The ghost of a smile twitched the corners of her lips. “Good.” She blinked. “Wanting things is hard too.”

Ishida arched a brow, and made another note. Caught their looks, and gazed evenly back. “The more we can pin down what parts of the spirit have been injured, the more effective any treatment may be.” Blue eyes narrowed. “The problem may be keeping you all alive long enough to be treated. If you can see energy creations such as those specters, eventually you will see ghosts - and if you stay in Karakura, you’ll see Hollows and shinigami.” He paused. “Neither of those take well to being seen.”

Yin tried to frown. “Mao can see them.”

“Yes, but I’m a cat,” Mao said dryly. “As long as I keep my mouth shut, I doubt the idiot samurai will notice anything. And I have to run from the Hollows anyway. Ishida’s more worried about you two. Aren’t you, Doctor.”

“Blunt, but true,” Ishida agreed. “The best shielding in the world won’t hide you from a Hollow close enough to see you. And what you can’t see can definitely hurt you.”

Hei glanced at Mao. “Stay close to Yin.”

A purple wink. “If she’s willing to use the fingers, I’ll stay as close as she likes.”

Ishida eyed their byplay as if it reminded him of someone he wouldn’t admit to missing. “And what will you do, Mr. Hei?”

“I’ve fought invisible Contractors,” Hei shrugged. “I’ll live.”

The doctor let out an exasperated breath. “If you can affect a spiritual entity, you might survive. But that’s difficult to test in advance without dying-”

Mao cleared his throat in a hairball-hacking cough. “Consider it tested.”

Ishida arched a skeptical brow.

Mao’s fangs flashed. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen a shinigami with a truly regrettable Afro?”

Hei sighed.

Ishida looked between them, as if he already knew he’d regret asking. “What. Happened.”

Another furred cough. “Well, some months back we were on an assignment, and... he was yelling something about Vizards and facing society’s judgment, I really didn’t wait around to hear the details.” The tip of Mao’s tail flicked. “Honestly, anyone who winds up for an overhand strike like that is just asking for it.”

“He shouldn’t remember us,” Hei stated. Then again, given the size of the shock that hadn’t killed him.... “Unless shinigami brains work different from humans?”

“Sometimes I wonder,” Ishida mused. “But Kurumadani must not have seen enough to locate you, or you wouldn’t remember him.”

That was ominous. Suddenly Hei didn’t feel at all sorry for dropping the invisible idiot in the dumpster.

“Ah, hell,” Huang grumped. “Seriously? Not enough we got cops and spies and Syndicate running around wiping people’s memories, samurai ghosts do it too?”

“Strengthen your spiritual energy to the point you can see them reliably, and the memory alterations won’t work anymore.” Ishida made another note. “Ordinarily I’d advise you to leave well enough alone; and if you see a shimmer of heat where none should be, just walk the other way. There are enough human monsters to face in the world. But I’d rather not see what shinigami memory alteration might do on top of preexisting spiritual trauma. We’ll have to think about that, if you plan to stay in the vicinity.”

“Are we staying?” Mao asked Hei archly. “Nile. Crocodiles.”

“We did the most damage to the Tokyo faction of the Syndicate,” Hei shrugged. “Stay here, and they’ll have to rebuild and bring in new members from outside to track us.”

“Go anywhere else, the whole annoying organization will be in one piece, and they’ll move on us like lightning,” Mao sighed. “You had to pick now to be rational.”

“Stay,” Yin agreed.

“And I’m supposed to be their handler,” Huang hmphed at Ishida. “Like herding cats.”

Mao’s whiskers flicked. “I resemble that remark.”

“So we stay,” Huang went on. “You got ideas on how?”

“Well....” Hei opened his eyes wide as Li could. “I thought I’d get a job?”

Almost smiling, Yin nodded.

Cat and old operative traded glances. Tail fluffed, Mao hopped off Yin’s shoulders, thumping into the sheets at Huang’s side. “Okay. Now I’m scared.”

Chapter Text

About a week later.

The girder rang under his feet as Ichigo breathed in the summer wind. Karakura looked so small from up here.

Not as small as it used to.

The afternoon sun was shifting his spot of shadow. Ichigo glanced at steel, and stepped back into the patch where people on the ground would have to work to see him. Carefully. Very careful steps.

Nothing like visiting Rukongai to make you not want to die anytime soon.

All he really wanted was some quiet. Away from people. Strangers made him twitchy; made him want to size them up and reach for a blade that wasn’t there, because he couldn’t sense their spirit energy and the last person he couldn’t sense had been Aizen. And people who weren’t strangers-

I can’t stand it anymore. I just - can’t. Not today.

Orihime, Chad, Uryuu - they’d each jumped at unheard noises and pled bathroom breaks through the day. From the way Keigo had paled and Mizuiro had carefully ignored the chaos, Ichigo knew exactly what they’d gone out after each time. But no one would tell him anything.

Why should they? They know I know the Hollows are out there. And I can’t do anything to stop them. I can’t even see ghosts.

Glass half full, right? At least he didn’t have spectral salarymen grabbing him with clammy fingers and whining about missing out on the stock market anymore. No ghosts, no monsters; plenty of time to do his homework without getting nagged by a midget shinigami hiding in his closet....

Maybe I’ll just stay up here a little longer.

Though not much longer. The wind seemed to be picking up. At least the girders were ringing more than they had been-

“Wow.” Someone took a deep breath; steel vibrated underfoot, as if a weight had shifted. “This is... really high up.”

Who the hell would be crazy enough to come up here?

Outside of half his class, most of his family, all of Urahara Shoten-

The dark-haired guy in jeans wasn’t any of the above. Ichigo eyed him suspiciously. Pale knuckles, strong hands; the sloppy green jacket hid any muscles but Ichigo could tell where they had to be as the guy pulled himself up onto the girder easy as a chin-up on the monkey bars.

Blue eyes blinked wide. “Hi! So this is why you’re up here.” The stranger sat down on primer-red steel, smiling. As if his feet weren’t dangling over a hundred-foot drop. “It’s a really nice view.”

“...Yeah,” Ichigo admitted. Dark hair, eyes blue as Uryuu’s; he’d try to guess if the weirdo were even Japanese, but after dealing with Chad and Vizards and all of Soul Society his sense of ‘not one of us’ was kind of busted. “You came up after me?” Because the guy’d pretty much said he had, so... see if he walked that back, with the same kind of hidden pity as everyone else. Because there was nothing wrong with Ichigo, outside of a distinct lack of patient and half-psychotic voices in his head. Most people would say that was an improvement.

The stranger nodded. “I finished my deliveries, and I saw you up here, and - well. From the ground, this doesn’t look good.”

“And it looks better up here?” Ichigo folded skeptical arms, and tensed toes on one side to make sure he kept his balance. No point falling just to grump properly.

The way the guy’s gaze flicked to his feet, he’d caught that reflexive steadying. Under the jacket, shoulders eased. “A lot better.” He held out a hand. “Li. Li Tian.”

“Kurosaki Ichigo,” Ichigo said shortly, reluctant to move closer. Because seriously, Chinese? The last one he’d met had been Yoruichi’s stinger-armed shadow, and-

And Li moved like an Onmitsukidou, strength and grace and never a finger out of place. This could be bad.

Li let his hand close, and bent his head. “Sorry. It’s kind of unsteady up here, isn’t it?”

Ichigo tried not to let his jaw drop. Was - was that-?

You have every right to be wary, because if one of us made a grab we’d probably both go over the side, and neither of us wants that. I’m not offended.

He couldn’t be reading that casual movement right. Could he?

“I came up here because the way you moved looked like someone I knew once,” Li went on. “She’d lost something very important. It hurt her.”

Oh. So... not for him, at all. “A friend of yours?”

“Carmine?” Blue eyes blinked wider with surprise. “No. We worked together once, that was all. I didn’t like her, and she didn’t care as long as I stayed out of her way. But when I ran into her again, years later... she’d lost a lot, and she was hurting. So when I saw you - I thought I’d better come up here, and-”

For a second Ichigo thought his powers had slammed back unnoticed, because a growl like that had to be a Hollow.

Nope, Ichigo thought ruefully, as Li looked sheepish. No Hollow. Just somebody’s hollow stomach.

“Um.” Li shrugged, and flipped himself up with his hands to plant his feet on steel again. “You want to get something to eat?”

Ichigo eyed his erstwhile climbing associate as Li stopped by the edge of an alley, dropping a morsel of eel for a black cat way too chubby to be Yoruichi. The last morsel out of about eight bowls of street noodles. He had a teenage appetite, but Li was ridiculous. “Where do you put all that?”

“Climbing burns a lot of calories.” Li ran a hand through unruly black hair, almost straightening it out. “And I like high places.”

Well, maybe. Ichigo gave the cat another suspicious look as Li let it sniff his fingers. Still too chunky to be the Goddess of Flash. And Yoruichi wouldn’t have been caught dead in a collar with a bell.

The black beast deigned to strop Li’s ankles, then glanced at Ichigo with a haughty look that was all cat.

“I ate mine,” Ichigo said wryly. “You look like you could use a few less treats anyway.”

A flick of an inky tail announced there was never such a thing as too many treats, foolish human. With a nose in the air sniff, the cat sauntered away.

Li straightened, dusting off his hands. “Black cats aren’t bad luck, you know.”

“You haven’t met all of them,” Ichigo muttered, heading down the sidewalk. He didn’t want to think about Yoruichi, being a Captain again in Soul Society which was an important job, no wonder she hadn’t found the time to drag on a gigai and torment- teach a student again. Ex-student. Mortal student; and why would the Goddess of Flash waste her time on someone who couldn’t even match Renji for speed anymore-

Not even thinking, he batted something light and poky away from his head.

Wadded-up flyer?

Li blinked at him, almost too mild. As if his fingers didn’t have a trace of cheap ink on them. “The light’s about to change.”

He’d almost walked right into traffic. Great. Just great. Live through Aizen, get taken out by dump truck.

Ichigo waited for the light, feeling the weight of Li’s gaze on him. Not the steady pressure of Uryuu staring at the back of his head in yet another droning class. Not the pale, lip-biting looks his sisters threw his way when they thought he wasn’t looking. Just a careful, subtle feeling of attention.

So he sat on his damn temper and waited until they were by a near-empty playground before he exploded. “Why do you even care?”

“Carmine looked like that.” Blue eyes darkened; glanced away. “She wanted to live. She was trying. But the things she’d seen, the things she’d done....” Li shook his head, hands shoved into jacket pockets. “It was too much. I didn’t know what to do. I... hurt her.” A heartbeat’s pause. “And then someone killed her.”

Ichigo stared at the little fountain near one edge of the playground, gripping the fence in one hand; not sure if he wanted to keep himself from hurling a punch or just hurtle the low chain and keep running. “Did - did the cops-?”

Li was silent.

“...That sucks,” Ichigo said at last. “But I’m not her. I’m okay. Ask anybody.”

“Okay.” Li’s voice was quiet. “But I thought that, maybe... I like climbing.” One hand came out with a pen and a scrap of notepaper; he scribbled, then folded the slip, offering it. “Maybe you could show me some good spots around here, sometime?”

“I’ll think about it,” Ichigo stated, not unfolding the note. Way easier to politely claim he’d lost the number if he’d never read it. Just in case.

Li nodded, then headed off.

Ichigo waited until the green jacket was lost in the crowd before he let himself sigh. “Weird guy.”

Right. Now to just toss the....

Oh, who was he kidding. Anyone who moved like that had to be trouble. And even if every move Li had made was I’m not dangerous right now, trouble and Karakura were a predictable mix.

Grumbling under his breath, Ichigo opened the note.

If you want to talk, come here an hour before sunset and bring a red origami.

“What.” Ichigo turned the page, as if the characters would somehow morph into something that made sense. “You couldn’t just leave a phone number?”

He didn’t think about Li again for a whole day.

Really.

After all, he had a life. School. Notes. Sometimes poking himself with a pen cap to keep his mouth shut while the so-called English teacher mutilated Shakespeare. Had to keep his grades up. Teachers hadn’t stopped giving him grief about his supposed delinquent hair just because he wasn’t staring at ghosts anymore.

...Oh look, he’d managed a whole hour without thinking about not seeing spirits. Record.

And the day was finally over, everyone gathering up notes and bookbags and chattering away about the latest club event, or baseball practice, or-

“Do they like that part of town more than the rest?” Orihime was almost frowning at Uryuu. “We have to run over there a lot.”

Ichigo glanced at the all too familiar bunch in the corner; Orihime, Uryuu, Chad, and Tatsuki, with even Keigo and Mitsuiro hanging around the edges, obviously discussing battle strategies before they headed home to more spiritual chaos. Obviously, because Tatsuki had caught his glance their way and was trying to subtly wave a hand in front of the redhead’s oblivious face. Oops.

“Maybe there’s a lot of upset people?” Orihime charged on, as Tatsuki’s waves grew more frantic. “What if we threw a street festival to cheer everyone up, with dragons and lanterns and masks... well, maybe not masks, they could blend in- Kurosaki!”

A for effort on the smile, Ichigo thought. But brown eyes were too stubbornly not-sad to be real. He slid his glance to the quietest of the bunch. “Think you’re asking the wrong guy if you want to cheer up the town. Chad? Don’t they have some wild street parties over in Mexico?”

Shaggy brown hair dipped as Chad nodded.

“There you go.” Ichigo slung his bag onto his shoulder.

“But you could stay!” Orihime said hastily. “And give us ideas for... the party....”

“Like a martial arts demonstration!” Keigo jumped in, all eager waving fists. “You and Tatsuki, drawing all comers, we could clean up on the bets-”

Uryuu sighed. “Idiot.”

“What?” Keigo said defensively. “They’re both good!”

The Quincy adjusted his glasses. “I’m sure Kurosaki doesn’t want his ribs broken.”

Ichigo bit back any challenging snark, because damn it, Uryuu was right. Tatsuki was a good fighter, she knew how to spar - but anywhere near him she raised her own spirit pressure by reflex, and he had nothing left to resist her. All it’d take would be one distraction and broken ribs would be the least of his problems. “You guys have fun. I’ve got to pick up some things for Yuzu. She’s trying some new recipes.”

Nobody tried to stop him this time.

Escaping into Karakura’s streets, Ichigo took a deep breath, mentally wadding up the last few minutes and tossing them in the dustbin. It wasn’t their fault. He’d chosen what he had to, to stop Aizen and keep everyone alive. It wasn’t their fault.

Sometimes the world just sucks.

Funny how the Quincy who hated shinigami was the easiest of them all to be around. Uryuu didn’t pretend everything was okay.

...Though it was okay. Maybe not the best, maybe he couldn’t protect people the way he wanted to - but they were alive. His family and friends were alive. That was what mattered. Seeing Karin’s glance of careful relief when he showed up to cheer on her soccer games, Yuzu waving a mock-stern spoon as she scolded him for sampling the sweets batter - those were worth everything.

Speaking of sweets. Ichigo took the shopping list out of his pocket, and ran down the list of items. Yep, confectioner’s sugar, not just regular sugar. Yuzu must be up to something special.

That, and that, and... okay, definitely grocery store stop.

Inside was cooler than the summer streets, enough of a difference he almost wished he had his school jacket on. Snagging a cart, he headed for nonperishable stuff first; not that it’d make that much difference, but getting Yuzu’s vegetables as fresh as possible made him feel better-

Ichigo stopped in the middle of the canned soups and noodles, brain spinning to a screeching halt. “You!”

Jacket discarded for one of the mart’s green aprons over jeans and a white buttoned shirt, Li blinked at him, hands still working to stock the shelves. “Kurosaki. Hi! Did you find any new climbing spots?”

This was not happening. Not happening. How was this even his life? “What are you doing here?”

“Um....” Li looked down at the package of spiced noodles in hand. “Restocking the beef ramen?”

Ichigo was not going to slam his head into the shelves. Mrs. Sasajima who ran the place was old, sweet, sometimes terrifying to would-be shoplifters, and probably completely innocent. He’d hate to make more work for her. “You... have a job.”

“I have a couple,” Li agreed, as if that were a completely normal thing to ask the guy you’d met on top of a construction site. “All part-time. We’ll see which ones work out.”

Okay, scratch his wild theory that Li was another escapee from Soul Society in a gigai. Outside of Urahara and his dad, Ichigo hadn’t met a shinigami yet who could hack normal society’s nine to five. And neither had those two, come to think; they’d each made their own jobs. “You have a job and you don’t have a phone?”

“It’s hard for a foreigner to get one in a hurry,” Li said easily. “Can I help you with anything?”

“Um... no, I come here a lot....”

Words ran dry, and Ichigo bit his lip. Any second now, Li was going to pounce, and talk to him, and he was just so tired sometimes.

Any second now.

Silence, broken only by the soft shfff of plastic on plastic as Li transferred noodles from box to shelf. Blue eyes glanced at him, curious - but only a glance. Not a look askance. Not a measuring stare.

He’s just... checking that I’m still here. Checking if I want to talk.

Quiet, deadly patience. It made Ichigo homesick with the memory of a tattered black coat, long hair blowing in the wind of sideways skyscrapers.

Li’s hands stopped. “Are you okay?” His voice was quiet; too low to hear even an aisle away. “Do you need some ice water? Somewhere to sit down?”

As if he had heatstroke, not a damn messed-up head. Ichigo stiffened his shoulders, ready to snarl. There was no way the guy who’d climbed a skyscraper bare-handed was that stupid-!

But Urahara had pounded into him to weigh opponents before he moved. And Li’s stance was....

Li’s stance was casual and relaxed as Captain Ukitake; the white-haired shinigami smiling as he tried to talk the situation down just one minute more. Before he unleashed shikai.

“Sometimes you can be so focused on making sure everything comes out right, you can make yourself sick before you even notice you’re in trouble,” Li stated. Blue eyes went innocently wide. “Er, not that that’s happened to me... in a while... hi, Mrs. Sasajima. Is Kurosaki one of our usual customers? He looks like he knows what he’s doing.”

“Hmph! He ought to; been shopping here since he was a little mite.” The pepper-haired store manager gave Ichigo’s cart an assessing look. “Yuzu’s making desserts? Lucky boy.” She turned back toward Li. “Two more aisles.”

“I’ll have it all done before the hour, yes ma’am,” Li bowed respectfully.

“You’d better.” She waved a scolding finger. “After all, you still need to call a cab. You’re not letting your uncle walk home from Karakura General in this heat!”

Ichigo frowned as she headed back to the front of the store. “Your uncle’s in the hospital?” You actually have an uncle?

“Workplace accident,” Li said sheepishly. “He’s going to need to check in with the doctors for a while, so... we moved here for now.” He ducked his head, looking as harmless as a wet kitten. “Ah, do you know where there’s a pay phone? Mrs. Sasajima says the store’s is just for company calls.”

We?

But Ichigo’s hands were already moving, offering his own phone. Because that sudden bout of harmlessness was... not a show, exactly. More like - camouflage. A mask.

Li hadn’t used that mask with him. And he wanted to know why.

The part-time stocker blinked, harmlessness sliding off his face like snow off a roof. Dark brows flicked up, a silent question: Are you sure?

Ichigo shrugged, and let him take the phone.

Li flipped it open and punched in numbers without looking anything up, or even a pause to think.

What, did he memorize the cab’s number? Weird.

A few concise sentences arranging for a car to be at Karakura General’s walk-in entrance in about an hour, and Li breathed a sigh of relief, handing the phone back. “That should do it. Thanks.”

Ichigo nodded, thinking things through. “You don’t have a car, either?”

Spots of color bloomed on Li’s cheeks as he went back to restocking the ramen. “Well, we did....”

Ichigo raised a startled brow. “Must have been some accident.”

“Came out of nowhere,” Li said solemnly. “I, um, think the insurance company is going to write it off as a total loss.”

Which felt like the truth. Just not all of it. Ichigo drew in a frustrated breath, ready to pounce, because he was so sick of people not telling him things-

Wait a minute. Think about this.

Li was pulling on harmless when other people got close enough to overhear. That wasn’t not telling. That was, I don’t want other people to know this.

Whoever he was, Li had secrets.

Climbs girders bare-handed and moves like a shinigami ninja. Damn right he’s got secrets.

Ichigo stared at the not-harmless guy, and took another look at Yuzu’s grocery list. “I should get this stuff and get home.”

“Family is important,” Li said solemnly.

Normally that would have sounded like just another adult platitude, trotted out for rebellious teenagers. But from the guy who’d apparently moved and gotten new jobs so his uncle could get looked after.... “Yeah,” Ichigo agreed, gripping his cart to head for the next row. “Family’s important.”

Time to do some very fast shopping.

This is crazy, Ichigo told himself yet again, trying to loiter near the entrance to Karakura General without looking like he was loitering. It wasn’t easy. The security guard inside was starting to give him suspicious looks, and he’d only gotten here a few minutes ago.

This is crazy. Li’s making me curious on purpose. Tossing out little breadcrumbs and watching me follow the trail. He’s up to something, sure as Sandal-Hat ever was.

Urahara had been out to save the world. What was Li up to?

Won’t know unless I find out.

And honestly, he was probably the best person for this. Somebody like Urahara did half their work by leaving tantalizing hints for people with power to get them riled up and charging straight through the enemy. Ichigo didn’t have any power anymore-

The green jacket seemed to appear, as Li stepped out of a concealing knot of pedestrians and headed for the entrance. Inside Ichigo could just make out an approaching wheelchair, pushed by a white-dressed nurse and occupied by a balding guy in a sport jacket and cap who radiated cranky.

Doesn’t look like Li. Uncle by marriage?

But the smile on Li’s face was as wide as if he’d known the man forever. He bowed to the nurse and gripped the chair to steady it, letting his uncle stand for his first breath of not-hospital air in who knew how long.

So now what do I do?

He’d gotten Yuzu’s groceries, dropped them and his school stuff at home with a few hurried words about heading back out for a walk, and gotten here in time to confirm that yes, Li did have an uncle who had been in the hospital. So... that much was true.

Doesn’t mean he’s not lying about other things. I should get home - heck, maybe even get to Urahara Shoten, tell them there’s a weirdo-

The cab pulled up, and Li waved. “Kurosaki! Hi!”

Busted.

And Li’s uncle had just done a double-take that reminded Ichigo so much of Tessai confronted with yet another of his boss’ mad inspirations. Only way more cranky.

He wasn’t surprised when Li’s uncle pulled him down for some quick and possibly rude words. He was kind of surprised nothing exploded.

Li’s uncle rubbed at what had to be a headache, shook his head, and got in the cab. Alone.

Um. Now what?

Li headed over to him at an easy amble, casting an innocent smile the security guard’s way that had the suspicious man ducking sheepishly back into the hospital. “I didn’t know if you’d come. Don’t worry; my cousin Kirsi’s going to be there when Uncle Kuno gets home. She’ll look after him. She even got some of his favorite cigarettes.”

Hospitals were no-smoking. No wonder Li’s uncle was cranky- No, wait. That was a distraction. “You invited me,” Ichigo said cautiously. “I think?”

Li nodded. “Want to take a walk?”

...He wanted to be surprised that Li’s idea of a walk included ducking through alleys, casually hopping fences, and at least once snatching stray hard hats to walk through another active site like they belonged there. He really did.

Nope. Not surprised.

Though he was a little surprised he could keep up. Even if he was winded and Li - well, Li definitely wasn’t.

Li casually dropped the plastic hats on a pile near their exit, and tilted his head as they cleared the sound of jackhammers. “What do you want to know?”

For a moment Ichigo flailed for words. He couldn’t be serious. Urahara would never offer a blank check for information like that.

He’s not Urahara. He’s not Soul Society. Which means... he’s probably exactly as old as he looks. No way could he be half as twisty when it comes to plotting things.

“What do you want?” Ichigo managed at last. “Why leave a trail for me? I’m just a high school student, I don’t have anything anyone wants-”

“My family’s in trouble.” Blue eyes gave him a sober look, possibly lingering on orange hair. “It might be your kind of trouble.”

No. Just - no. There was no way some stray spirit-haunted soul had found his way to Ichigo when he didn’t have powers anymore-

...Then again, Ichigo realized, feeling at his hair, he’d been getting in trouble way before Rukia had kicked her way into his life. “It’s not dyed. I’m not with the gangs, and I’m definitely not with the Yakuza.”

“But you know who they are.”

Damn it. Yes, he did. Matter of self-preservation, living in Karakura, where everybody and his idiot younger brother thought his mom’s not-black hair meant juvenile delinquent. “What do you want, an introduction?”

Li shook his head. “I want to know who and where they are so we can avoid them.”

Oh man. Oh man, his luck sucked. “The Yakuza’s after you?”

Li’s lips twitched. “Not yet.”

Ichigo gave him a flat look.

Li shrugged, a fainter echo of the innocent look he’d turned on the guard. “There are worse things than the Yakuza out there.”

“No kidding,” Ichigo deadpanned. “What did you do, rob a bank? Kill the Prime Minister? Steal the national treasures?”

“Stopped an explosion.”

That... sounded serious. But. “You said your uncle had a workplace accident.”

Li nodded, blue eyes glinting with just a hint of humor. “We had an interesting workplace.”

Ichigo kept walking, not sure if he should be glad or worried they were currently cutting through a dark alley. “So you’re in the criminal underworld and you’re stocking shelves?”

A shrug. “Who looks for a dangerous criminal doing part-time jobs to get by?”

Ichigo rubbed his head, sympathizing so much with Uncle Kuno’s headache. Because Li actually had a point. If he hadn’t met Li at high altitude, he’d never have looked twice. “But if you’re a crook, why stop an explosion?”

“Well, it would have killed us, too.”

Urk. Ichigo glanced at Li, taking in that utter lack of humor. “Did, um, your bosses know you were there?”

“That was part of the plan.” Li’s expression was definitely not a smile. “We just happened to get some good intel before it went off. And got lucky- Breathe. Head down. Breathe.”

Li wasn’t touching him. Li was definitely not touching him, which was a good thing, because explosion and our leaders tried to kill us was ringing in his head with Shinji’s gut-wrenching story of Hollowification and the day he’d had to fight every. Damned. Vizard. To get his own Hollow under control before it killed him, or anyone else, and there was no one in his soul anymore....

“Kurosaki. Ichigo. Hold your breath. Count to ten. Let it out. Panic makes you hyperventilate, and you don’t want to pass out here. I think somebody smeared fish guts under that pile of papers.”

Eww. No, he didn’t want to fall into that....

Ichigo blinked. The world was still... gray around the edges. But he could breathe. And think. “Thanks. I just- Never mind.”

Li’s face was unreadable. “I’m not a nice person.”

Huh?

“When you’ve been through hell, it’s easy to grab onto someone who’s a little kind. Or knows how to fake it. I am not a good person. None of us are. We’ve left bodies behind us. The people who set up that blast didn’t stop because someone asked them to.” Li hesitated. “...Kirsi’s innocent. But she watches for us. So - she’s an accomplice. We’re not good people.”

“Sometimes the criminals have better morals,” Ichigo muttered.

And did a double-take, because from that flicker of blue eyes, it looked like he’d actually surprised Li with that one.

Ichigo tried to shrug, honesty strangling him like a shirt two sizes too small. “What, you think killing somebody’s the worst thing you can do to a person?” Oh shit. “Not that I’d know anything about that....”

Li let his flailing die a merciful death. “Okay.”

Ichigo was not going to gape. “Okay?”

“You don’t want to go to the cops. I don’t want to go to the cops. Okay.”

He didn’t know how Li had jumped from death’s not the worst to both of them being on the wrong side of the law, but-

But he’d banged his head against all of Soul Society’s laws too many times. Kon, Rukia, the Vizards; Aizen getting away with worse than murder for centuries. That didn’t even begin to get into the Quincy Massacre and Kurotsuchi’s ongoing scientific eww.

If Ichigo could pick one moment in Soul Society to go back and fix, he wished he’d been there when Uryuu had faced the 12th Division’s captain. Heck, he’d trade Grimmjow’s life for that bastard’s in a heartbeat - and Grimmjow had been a soul-eating Arrancar.

So no. He didn’t want to go to the cops. Not for a guy whose worst crime Ichigo had seen was breaking into construction sites for creative recreation.

But Li didn’t know that. Li didn’t know any of that. “Why do you trust me?”

Li’s gaze flicked up and behind him; relaxed as a pigeon landed on the power lines.

...Looked like he’d relaxed. Ichigo could see his stance, easy and deadly as Urahara’s waving his sword-cane, as Li turned and headed on through the alley. “Come on.”

He saw something, Ichigo realized, matching Li stride for stride. Something that made him think someone could be listening? Who? How?

Li waited until they were under the trees in another small park before he breathed a sigh. “There’s some interesting surveillance equipment out there. Light enough for a bird to carry.”

Ichigo blinked. “You’re serious.”

Li nodded.

Ichigo rubbed the hairs down on the back of his neck. “I’d say you’re paranoid, but....” After Kurotsuchi had bugged people with spirit bacteria? He wasn’t about to call anyone too paranoid.

“That’s why I trust you.”

Ichigo had to blink again. Gave the man a long look.

The oversized jacket made Li’s shrug look far more sheepish than any guy his age should. “That, and... you probably don’t look in mirrors much, anymore.”

Ichigo swallowed hard. How the hell did he know that?

“I don’t either. Not for years.” Li’s gaze was even. Steady. “It’s your eyes.”

What?

“You don’t know how to hide it yet,” Li went on. “Learn fast. The numbers-runners and the street punks, they won’t know. But if a Yakuza hitter comes to town, if one sees you - he’ll start asking questions.” Blue eyes went dark. “The kinds you don’t want your friends, your family, to have to answer.”

“What-” Ichigo had to clear his throat. “What are you talking about?”

“Your clothes say high school student. Good.” That chill never left Li’s gaze. “But your eyes say you’ve seen a war.”

Ichigo’s heart was beating way too fast. If this had been the alley - dark, closed in, tight quarters like so many places he’d fought in - he’d already have run.

But the little park was green and open, city noises hushed but still there, reminding him there were other innocent people in the world. He could hold on. Just barely. “You... planned this,” Ichigo got out. “Got me here before you talked.”

Li nodded once. “When I was your age, if someone had cornered me in an alley, they’d be dead.”

Ichigo’s heart skipped a beat. What the-?

“So I won’t do that to you.” Li scanned the greenery and the sky, then turned his attention back to Ichigo. “You’re - sixteen? Seventeen?”

“Sixteen,” Ichigo agreed, dazed. Was... was Li admitting he’d killed people? Not just to stop whatever bomb had almost gone off, but when he was a kid?

I killed... Arrancar. But they were people, too. Murdering, angry, evil people, but....

“Sixteen.” Li’s gaze went distant. “I already had my name by then. And the year after that-” He stopped, like someone hitting a glass door.

Ichigo sucked in a breath. Because he knew that stop. That moment when everything in the world just balled up and socked you in the gut with, that happened and I couldn’t stop it.

I couldn’t save them. I barely saved me. I wish I’d died instead of - of what I had to do, I had to come home to my family....

“I don’t know what to do to help.” Li’s words were quiet, like someone dropping pebbles in a still pond. “I just know it hurts. And - if I can’t fix it, I can tell you things that might keep more trouble from looking for you. They’re not easy. They feel a lot like lying. But you have a family. If I can help you keep them....” He looked away.

It hurts. I don’t know what to do to help.

Ichigo had to close his eyes, panic or no panic. Because if anybody in his family had just said that....

Maybe I should talk to Dad again. He’s not good at being serious, we all know that. But if I tried again, told him about the nightmares - maybe.

But that’d be later. Right now, stranger or not, Li had opened up his own pain and let it bleed. Ichigo couldn’t walk away. “...Could I meet your family?”

Li straightened, eyes lightening. “I think they’d like that.”

“Ah hell, Li. What did you just drag home?”

Ichigo stopped scanning the small apartment to give Uncle Kuno a second look. The guy was even more homely up close, warts and a craggy face and a string tie years out of style. But he was also pale, with the undertone a doctor’s son associated with bloodloss and serious injury. And even so, he’d planted his chair so he was between the door and Kirsi.

Pretty. But oh man, if people are looking for them - she’s like a blinking neon sign, “Here we are.” White hair, pale skin, and those eyes; albino?

Which explained the dark blue wig on the shelf by her hand, Ichigo would bet. With that on, she’d look like an otaku Goth. Still odd, but not nearly as memorable.

...Were those black cat hairs on her skirt?

“Kurosaki offered us information on the local Yakuza,” Li stated. “So we can stay out of trouble.”

“You did, huh?” Kuno’s glance raked him so hard, Ichigo swore he felt scrapes. “An’ what kind of trouble do you know we’re already in?”

“Li said you stopped an explosion,” Ichigo shot back. “And that your bosses meant you to go up with it.”

Kirsi nodded. “You would have, too.”

What?

“Kiddo,” Kuno warned her.

“He should know.” Her face was almost expressionless, but violet eyes had a stubborn spark. “Everyone should know what the- what almost happened. So they can’t do it again.”

Ichigo spun on Li, noting that the man hadn’t locked the front door. Good. “Is she serious? Who’d want to bomb Karakura?” Outside of Aizen, and maybe some surviving Arrancar, and who knew what Soul Society was up to now, but - nobody human would, right?

“She’s serious,” Li nodded. “But do you really want to know?”

Ichigo sputtered, then squared his shoulders and glared. “Someone tried to blow up my hometown? Of course I want to know! Who are they? Why haven’t you gone to the cops? Yeah, sure, maybe you’re criminals but if you brought them a bomb plot they could give you a plea deal-!”

“Ah, hell.” Kuno took off his hat, ran fingers through thinning hair. “Kurosaki. Kid. Some of ‘em are the cops.”

Erk. But- “You could be lying.” About everything.

“Good, you got a brain.” Kuno actually grinned at him, even if it was tobacco-stained and rough as sandpaper. “Thing is, we ain’t lying. Karakura? Nobody gave a damn about Karakura. They were after Tokyo.” Kuno paused. “You an’ your hometown woulda been what we call in the trade, collateral damage.”

“Along with all of Honshu.” Li’s hands were stuffed deep in his coat pockets, but something in the lines of cloth told Ichigo they’d curled into white-knuckled fists. “If they’d succeeded, if she had-”

“Ah!” Kuno’s hand slashed the air. “You stop thinking about it. We got in, you stomped their plan to nasty little mad-scientist bits, we got out. So stop feeling guilty over that crazy blonde. She had five years to figure out maybe she was gonna need your help and pick up a damn phone. Instead she went on a suicide run that would have left all of us except you dead. Maybe I’m just a paranoid old man, but I got a sneaking suspicion that wasn’t an accident.”

Li blinked, wide-eyed. Looked away.

Skirt swaying, Kirsi made her way to Li and held out her hand. “I’m sad, too.”

Slowly, Li took it.

Ichigo pressed fingers to his own pulse to make sure he was still breathing. Because he might not have much more in the way of facts, but the snark and prickliness and pure grief reminded him so much of Shinji and the other Vizards, it hurt. “I want to know what’s going on.”

That had everyone’s attention. With the same razor edge as the Vizards, too.

“I want to know,” Ichigo said again, quieter. “But I’m not going to ask. You’re in trouble. You think I’m in trouble. If you want to trade help for help - that works.” He paused. “But don’t you dare disappear without telling me who tried to kill my family. Because they are not going to try it again.”

“Kid drives a bargain,” Kuno mused. Glanced at the other two, before turning a measuring look on Ichigo. “Can’t promise you that. We might have to run like bats out of hell.” He let a breath pass. “But if we do up and vanish, and we’re still alive - tell Li your mailbox. We’ll make sure something lands in it.”

Not the promise he wanted. But maybe better than he deserved. “Fair,” Ichigo allowed. “So what do you want to know about the Yakuza?”

“For a teenager, he seems remarkably well-informed.” Mao stalked out from the shadows of a bookcase, ear cocked as if making well and truly sure Ichigo was out of hearing range. Shook his head, and jumped up onto the table to look over the Karakura city map now marked up with pencil and sticky notes. “How do you find them?”

“I watch.” Hei turned to Huang, who was absently tapping a finger against a coffee mug gone lukewarm. “Will this help?”

“If we’re pulling out, eh, not much. If we’re staying....” The ex-cop grimaced.

Yin’s fingers gripped her skirt where she sat. “Ishida helps.” She took a breath. “And you’re still hurt.”

“Gonna be hurt for months, kiddo. No matter what spirit-stuff the doc pulls out of his sleeves. I ain’t as young as I used to be.” Huang shifted in his chair; winced. “Could stand another week or two not running, sure. Question is, who thinks that’s a good idea?”

“Hmm.” Mao walked the map from uptown to downtown, paying particular attention to the train stations. “Like it or not, the original arguments for hiding here still stand. Though the longer we’re here, the more likely it is what’s left of the Syndicate in Japan will get its act together enough to start hunting us. If they haven’t already.”

True. All true. “That’s why we should keep an eye on Ichigo,” Hei said steadily. “And find out who ran him.”

Mao’s fur bristled. Yin started.

Huang gave him a very narrow look. “You think that kid is Syndicate.”

“Why not?” Hei met his gaze, knowing how cold his eyes were. “I made my first kill when I was twelve.”

Huang flinched.

“But you weren’t a Contractor until- Oh.” Mao blinked rapidly, whiskers flared and appalled. “That’s... I didn’t know humans could do that.”

“Most of us can’t. Thank god,” Huang muttered. “You’re playing with fire, Hei.”

“No.” Hei glanced at Yin, and away. “I wouldn’t risk you that way. I don’t know if he’s Syndicate, but he’s not active. He’s... abandoned. You can see it. He hates what he did but he misses the adrenaline. He doesn’t even know what he’s missing.”

“Hmm.” Mao sat on the map. “If he’s not active, why bother watching him?”

“Because he’s sixteen and he’s lived here all his life,” Hei answered. “Either he lies so well none of us caught it, or someone in this town taught him to kill. I want to know who. And how many others there are.” For a moment he wanted to shiver. Why? The room wasn’t cold. “People who train child assassins don’t stop with just one.”

“...Damn it,” Huang grumped. “Life was a hell of a lot easier when I was just babysitting monsters.”

Yin looked up. “You want to help him, too.”

“Nobody should turn a teenager into a killer,” Huang said flatly. “And for damn sure, you don’t teach someone to be dangerous and just toss them out an’ say, go have fun playing with the civilians. People get killed that way.”

“And on the rational side, even if Kurosaki is Syndicate, he only knows your descriptions and current aliases,” Mao mused. “It’s a minimal risk scenario. Especially if Hei can charm him as well as he does the usual ladies.”

Hei shot the cat a glare. “I’m not going to-”

“Oh, please.” Mao lifted a foot to scratch behind one black ear. “We all know your personal tastes run toward adult, female, and dangerously competent. But that’s a hurt young man who desperately wants someone to understand him. And that’s what you’re offering. Iron nails, meet industrial-grade magnet.” He let his claws slip through fur, violet eyes alight with curiosity. “Can you do magnets? I know you’ve tampered with magnetic circuits.”

“I’ve tried a little in the past,” Hei admitted. “But so far I haven’t drawn on my power here. Trying to keep it that way.” Which wasn’t easy. Sometimes it felt like static was prickling under his skin, sharp as rose thorns. He wanted to use his power.

Not rational. Use it, send up a signal, get caught. You were the Black Reaper for years without Bai’s power. You can live like a human. Just try.

But he’d lived with that bright power for five years, and... he missed using it. There were so many things it could do that weren’t killing.

Yin blinked at the map, and looked up. “So we stay?”

“Maybe,” Mao said judiciously. “At least through tonight. So you’ll see Ishida again.” His teeth gleamed. “But first... I want to do a little research.”

“Just as we did last time,” Ishida said quietly, as Yin closed her eyes in his office chair. “Down the stairs, and open the door. Remember that you’re not trying to fix all of your inner world. Only mend and straighten what you can, a little at a time.”

Breathing out, Yin nodded.

“Good.” Ishida stepped back, leaning against the desk near Hei. “It’s not what would help someone from my... tradition, but given her powers have an internal source, it seems better suited for her injuries.” He touched his glasses, watching the Doll as one of her hands twitched, evidently trying to sort out the wreckage Yin had described in her inner self. “But it isn’t fast.”

“It helps.” Hei watched twitching fingers settle, as Yin breathed deeper. “She asked for what she wanted for breakfast.”

The doctor frowned. “I am legitimately torn between, Ah, progress, and, So the bar is set that low.” He looked at Hei askance. “And you? When you said you knew how to meditate, I thought you should have been seeing spirits long before Karakura.”

“I haven’t done it much.” Hei looked away. “Not since I - left home.”

“I would imagine not.”

Hei glanced at him, nerves alert for mockery.

“A doctor makes deductions from symptoms and case history.” Ishida’s tone was cool, but not cutting. “Given the damage a Contractor suffers to their soul’s empathy, and the usual habits of Hollows with emotional ties, family and friends would have been your sister’s first victims.”

Hei tried not to wince.

“However you survived, it would in part have been by not looking like a spiritually tasty target,” Ishida went on. “Emotional repression would have dampened your spirit pressure, but it would also make successful meditation difficult.” He looked Hei over clinically. “Still. You’ve managed?”

“Sometimes.” Hei didn’t want to say anything farther, but... if Ishida’s guess was right, that his human spirit energies were tangled up in Bai’s Contractor power, then trying to manipulate one would tug on the other. “I can clear my head, but it’s hard to reach for energy without calling on my power. And if my star flares, Astronomics will have Section Four combing the streets inside half an hour.”

Ishida’s glasses flashed. “Inconvenient.”

“The Syndicate’s tried everything to block it,” Hei agreed. “Nothing works.” He glanced at Yin, still breathing slow and quiet as she worked at a mental disaster. Ishida said he was watching for any dangerous flares of her energy, so they could pull her out of trance well before a Hollow could appear... but it was still nerve-wracking, seeing Yin as still as most Dolls. “I thought I saw some blurs down by the ER... are you sure this is a good idea? I’ve fought blind before. I can do it again.”

“I’m certain you could,” the doctor said thoughtfully. “But being able to perceive a spiritual entity also affects how much damage you can inflict on them. The difference between a foam bat and a sword, so to speak. And while I believe the living should leave the shinigami to deal with the dead, I am well aware the Hollows have no such morals.” He paused. “You’re targets. With the damage your souls have suffered already, you’re far more likely to Hollow after death than a regular human. Teaching you to see the danger is preventative medicine.”

Hei balanced himself, considering that. If Ishida really believed in helping patients avoid life-threatening danger... maybe this wouldn’t be as ugly as he feared. “There’s another source of trauma I’d like to quarantine, Doctor.”

A pale brow rose. “Oh?”

“We researched you after you made your offer,” Hei began. “Your hospital has a well-known policy of taking seriously injured patients from the local Kurosaki clinic. Run by one Kurosaki Isshin, who was in medical school with you. Or so his records say. They’re a little... spotty. Everything important is there, but that’s all that’s there.” He paused long enough for Ishida’s eyes to narrow. “The other day I found Kurosaki Ichigo walking the girders a hundred feet off the ground. Because someone taught him to kill - someone made him a weapon - and then left him with no mission. Do you know who Kurosaki Isshin is?”

The doctor stared at him. Slowly, deliberately, clapped a hand to his own face. “Isshin. You fool.”

Hei waited, ready to call on power in the blink of an eye. Because if Ishida knew who Isshin really was, if Ishida knew about Ichigo-

Then maybe the Kurosakis were Syndicate after all. And Ishida along with them. Why not? The Syndicate had moles in Astronomics, scientists in Pandora; why not the director of a small suburban hospital? It’d be the perfect place for a team to hide out and get medical treatment. Just as his team had.

“I wondered once if Isshin’s records would ever stand up to a determined examination.” Ishida sighed, dropping his hand. “Apparently not.”

Not an explanation. Hei kept his expression neutral. Ready to strike or grab Yin and flee.

“The situation isn’t as dire as I suspect you fear,” Ishida stated. “I do know Isshin. Rather more than I’d like.” Blue eyes implored the heavens in pure exasperation. “He comes from a family in another tradition of paranormal hunters. They tend to avoid most of modern society. When he lost his powers and decided to become a normal doctor, certain documentation had to be... produced.”

A plausible story. But there was a gaping hole in it. Hei picked his words; he wanted to hammer the point home, not insult Ishida’s intelligence. And both of them knew no one human felt so abandoned unless they’d been a part of something. Unless they’d had a purpose worth their life. Or someone else’s. “Someone trained Ichigo to be an assassin.”

Ishida’s eyes twitched. But he set his jaw, and took a deliberate, considering breath. “I would like to deny that.”

Wait, Hei told himself, forcing tense muscles to relax again. Wait....

“I would like to. But when I consider the essence of the situation, and what happened-” Ishida sighed. “You are not wrong.” He glanced away. “Was he - when you found him-?”

He’s worried. He cares. “Ichigo was okay,” Hei said plainly. “His balance is good. He has a head for heights. I think he was just tired of people. Being away from them, where they can’t get to - it helps. If you know you can’t hurt anyone, and they can’t hurt you. Because they’re not there.”

The doctor was studying him like a brand-new symptom. “...You went up after him.”

Hei blinked. “Yes?” Wait, wait, Ishida was acting like he’d done something dangerous. Huh. “I had my wires. A hundred feet is plenty of time to react.”

One pale brow climbed. “You were willing to fall off a building for someone you didn’t even know.”

Hei shrugged, wishing he could slide out from under that gaze. What was the point of this when someone was training kids to be assassins? “I’ve fallen farther.”

Ishida frowned, then let his gaze lose some of that burning intensity. “I’m asking as a doctor treating your injuries, and as Ichigo’s friend. Why did you go after him?”

Hei opened his mouth... and closed it again. I could lie. I should lie.

But if Ishida cared about Ichigo - then there was someone in the young man’s life who could help. “I... something about his eyes. He looked like Carmine.”

Ishida straightened. “The Contractor you mentioned before. The one whose remuneration horrified Mao.” His throat moved; the slightest swallow. “I have to wonder what would horrify a Contractor.”

“She drank the blood of children.”

Ah. That finally made the doctor blanch.

Hei had to look away. “Yes, I worked with her. Yes, I knew. Yes, I helped her... take what she needed. She was Syndicate. So was Bai. I went where Bai went.”

“Dear god,” Ishida breathed.

“I’m not a good person,” Hei said, half to himself. “I might be worse than she was. If you don’t do your remuneration you die. Slow and ugly.” He shrugged. “Five years ago she was on our team. When everything blew up, and Bai vanished. A few months ago I found Carmine again. She’d lost her Contract. She was human. But the Syndicate wanted her, and... I wanted to know what she knew about Bai. She said she didn’t remember.” He had to breathe. “I didn’t ask nicely.”

“I... see.” Ishida was very pale. And angry.

“No, you don’t,” Hei got out. “She was human, but she was - starving. Weak. As if... as if what was left of her just wasn’t enough to live. No matter how much she tried.” He made himself meet those cold eyes. “She tried to help me. She tried to remember what’d happened to Bai, even if it cost her... everything.” He swallowed. “MI6 killed her right in front of me. I wasn’t fast enough.”

The doctor let out a long, slow breath.

“And she was glad,” Hei said quietly. “She was glad she was dying human, instead of a Contractor.”

Ishida lifted a hand, as if unsure whether to strike or comfort; let it fall. “And you sense the same starvation in Ichigo.”

Sensed? If reading body language and empty eyes was sensing, then maybe supernatural hunters weren’t as supernatural as they liked to think. Not that Hei intended to mention that, as he leveled a wary look at the doctor. Being Carmine’s teammate should have been a conversational bomb going off. Instead it’d been fzzt, and he wasn’t eager to walk up and check what’d gone wrong with the fuse.

Ishida met that stare with what couldn’t possibly be a glint of dry humor. “I am shocked. And appalled.”

Forget the fuse, Hei thought. This would be the time to scrub the mission, throw a flashbang, and run like hell.

“For someone who’s seen so much horror, you are remarkably skittish.” Ishida adjusted his glasses. “But then, you are still alive. I doubt many people could survive ten years among the nearest living equivalent to Arrancars with any of their morality intact.”

Someone was confused in this room, and Hei wasn’t sure it was him. “You think I have morals.”

“Yes.” Something small, metal, and angular flashed near Ishida’s hand; Hei automatically registered which knife would be best to target the odd, five-pointed star. “Or I’d kill you before I let you near Ichigo again.”

Ishida evidently believed he could, too. Interesting. “But whoever trained Ichigo is still alive,” Hei stated. Otherwise the teenager wouldn’t be lost. He’d be hunting.

Ishida looked at him askance, as if he’d said something completely out of context.

Weird. But maybe he just had to clarify. “You haven’t killed them.”

“Ah. No.” Ishida made the star vanish up his sleeve again, studying Yin for a long moment. “I would advise you not to approach Urahara Kisuke with hostile intent. So far as I can determine he did his best to give Ichigo the tools to survive the utter disaster the young man landed in. I don’t know why he seems to have stepped back now....”

If that was the same Urahara as the local candy store on the map, Hei was going to be very, very cautious getting Yin treats. “But you think you have an idea.”

The doctor almost grimaced. “Kurosaki Isshin is an intelligent, well-meaning, boisterous idiot.”

That sounded like half of an old argument. Hei waited.

“Ichigo is not my patient. Technically I could discuss his case. I will tell you he suffered grave injuries.” Ishida gave him another look. “But those injuries are very personal. If you want more details, you should ask Ichigo yourself. Given you haven’t even trusted the young man with your own name....”

Hei wasn’t his name. It was just the alias that felt the most like a person. Ichigo actually did know his birth name... because that was one of the few IDs he’d had that the Syndicate didn’t know existed.

He’d been loyal to the Syndicate. If they hadn’t turned on him, he still would be. But he’d always known his hunt for Bai might pit him against whoever had her - because he couldn’t imagine Bai out there, free, and not trying to get back to him. And if whoever had her was the Syndicate....

For the past five years, he’d been prepared to run. He’d just never expected to do it without Bai.

Still. Ishida had a point. Hei inclined his head. “It might make him a target. I don’t want that.” He breathed out, trying to gauge the interest and wariness in Ishida’s face. “Is there anything that would stop him from climbing? I asked him to show me places around town.”

“Climbing.” Ishida’s lips thinned. “No. His physical injuries are healed, for the most part. Is that all you plan to do?”

No. No, it wasn’t. Because he couldn’t just walk away from desperate eyes and do nothing. “He’s had to dodge the Yakuza,” Hei started, feeling his way through what he could do, what he couldn’t, the gentle things normal people would do that he knew he could never in a million years make work. “I could - show him things that would help. How to shake a tail. Avoid being seen. Get through locks if everything’s gone wrong and they’ve really got you cornered....”

Was it his imagination, or had blue eyes thawed a little behind that glass?

“That,” Ishida said, half to himself, “might be some of the best medicine I could prescribe. The young man is well aware of what he can’t do.” Lenses gleamed. “It could be beneficial for him to discover there are things he can.”

Could be. Ishida wasn’t sure of him. Which meant the doctor was properly paranoid about the safety of a teenager he knew. Good.

“Isshin is an old friend,” the doctor stated. “He’s told me Ichigo was fine. But Isshin can also be an oblivious idiot, and I should have remembered that.” Fingers twitched, as if ready to grip that star again. “I believe I’ll be making a house call.”

According to Japanese government websites, absolutely nothing had exploded in Tokyo about a week ago. Nada. Nope.

And if it had, it definitely hadn’t been at Hell’s Gate. The containment wall was perfectly secure. The distortion in reality was being studied, same as always. Top scientists, finest minds in Pandora, and so on, and so on.

Having narrowly escaped some of Soul Society’s finest minds with his limbs and sanity intact, Ichigo did not find any of that reassuring.

And then there was the video clip.

...Well, actually, there were a ton of video clips, each more fake and paranoid-conspiracy-theorist than the last. But one had grabbed Ichigo’s attention most by what it didn’t show. No army tanks, no improbable missile launchers used inside city limits, no car chases cribbed from a dozen movies ending in an exploding van. No; the interesting clip was obviously shot from a shaky phone camera through a high-rise window, catching a white glow coming through the walls of Hell’s Gate, engulfing building after building in an incandescent tsunami as the phone’s owner gasped about what the hell-?

It didn’t look like an explosion. It looked like a bankai.

Bankai are spiritual power. There’s no way one would show up on camera... is there?

All Ichigo knew for sure was that something had happened in Tokyo. Something big enough the government was Not Talking about it.

...And now he was wondering exactly who Li and his family were running from. Because if it wasn’t just from criminals, but from the Japanese government....

No wonder they gave him Vizard vibes. Though Li’s family didn’t seem half as angry as Shinji’s crew. More just glad to be alive, and trying to plan what to do next now that whatever their criminal jobs had been had gone up in smoke.

Why aren’t they angry?

He wanted to know. Because if Li had been angry-

I wouldn’t have come near him with a ten-foot pole. Angry people want something.

Li wasn’t angry. He was worried. And sad.

I want to trust them. I know they’re criminals, I know they’re probably breaking the law right now, but....

But Li had been the first person to look at him and say, You’re not okay.

...Okay, Ichigo might be just a little swayed by the fact Li had climbed a building bare-handed just to make sure he wasn’t going to jump. Because for a mortal who couldn’t walk on air? That was badass.

He had to look away from the monitor, hand mousing the videos closed on automatic. Because that’d been a weird twinge, when he thought about Li and hundred-foot drops and what little power living humans could manage. He’d gone up on that site because even with their powers, if his classmates had spotted him, they’d have had to think twice about getting up without being seen. They weren’t invisible shinigami, after all. Walking on air got you noticed.

Li had climbed. Knowing he could be seen.

Hadn’t called the cops. Hadn’t pretended to be an ordinary guy and wrung his hands. He’d just... seen someone in trouble, and moved.

Wouldn’t have happened in Seireitei.

Maybe somebody like Rukia would have stepped in. Or one of the captains. Someone everyone knew had the power to do something.

Li had gone to save someone with no power at all. Just skill and determination.

It felt so weird.

I... used to do that. I mean, I could see ghosts, but - that was all I could do for them. See them, help them try to pass on themselves.

It’d helped. Maybe not all of them, maybe it wasn’t fighting off the monsters that would eat them - but it had been something.

Li had climbed up to talk because he’d seen someone in trouble, and he could do something about it.

Damn it. Ichigo thumped his head on the desk, hard. Because how could he have been so stupid? Stupid and selfish. So what, he didn’t have huge overwhelming powers anymore? Most people lived their whole lives without them. And sure, maybe most of them ran screaming from the monsters, maybe most of them should, but some of them-

Some people tried to help anyway.

He thumped his head again, hoping that would knock out the idiocy he’d obviously been infected with the past six months.

Right. So. Ichigo breathed out, chin still propped on the desk. Not going to live the rest of my life this way, just waiting while everybody else handles the Hollows. I need to do something.

Just wish I knew what....

Wait. Wait, that thudding he could feel through his jaw wasn’t him, it was something outside-

“-Even a complete stranger can see there’s something wrong, Isshin!”

Was that Uryuu’s dad?

He opened his bedroom door in time to see Ishida Ryuuken arm-bar Isshin into the wall; glasses gleaming, tie just slightly askew.

The tie with the crosses on it.

Ryuuken had shown up as a Quincy.

What. The. Hell?

Isshin pushed back a little; dark hair mussed, face scrunched into a still-amiable scowl. “If my son says he’s fine, then he’s fine!”

“I intend to get a second opinion.” Ryuuken let go, glancing back at Ichigo. “I believe my son is worried about you.”

...Wait, what?

Because Uryuu and Ryuuken didn’t talk to each other. It was a law of nature. Like gravity. If Ryuuken was saying Uryuu had actually asked him for help, it was time to start looking for flying pigs.

“I’ve recently been reminded that while Urahara Kisuke is an excellent scientist, he is not a doctor,” Ryuuken went on. “I’d like to examine your spirit energy.”

Ichigo couldn’t stop the scowl. “What spirit energy?”

Ryuuken’s glasses gleamed. “You’re still alive. By definition, you have spirit energy. And I have not seen the extent of the damage. If there has been an amputation, I would like to determine that the wounds have at least stopped bleeding.”

Ichigo bristled, ready to throw the guy out - maybe he didn’t have the power to do that but Isshin did-

But Uryuu was the only one who admitted something was wrong. If he had gone so far as to talk to Ryuuken, Ichigo wasn’t going to slap him in the face. “Okay. In the clinic?”

“Here would be better,” Ryuuken noted. “You consider it safe.”

Heh. Safe as anywhere else, given he’d once been attacked by a Hollow in his own bed, but....

They sat on the bed, Isshin stealing his desk chair and tapping his fingers as Ryuuken rested a hand on Ichigo’s head. The pale green glow wasn’t healing, not like Ichigo had seen Rukia do too many times to count. But it was... cool, somehow. Like leaning into a fan on a hot day.

Minutes passed.

The tapping grew louder.

Ryuuken did not roll his eyes. “Isshin.”

Tapping stopped.

Finally, Ryuuken lifted his hand. Squinted, mouth a thin line.

“I told you,” Isshin said impatiently. “He’s fine.”

“You are nominally an adult and his guardian, so legally I can’t throw you out of a medical consultation.” Much as I would like to, Ryuuken’s tone said. “He is not fine.”

Ichigo swallowed hard. “So... what’s wrong with me?”

“In medical terms, it might be considered a low-grade infection.” Ryuuken folded his hands. “There’s a reason we avoid the use of cauterization in surgery whenever possible. It causes major damage to the surrounding tissues and leaves the area open to any opportunistic bacteria. Just as there is a normal human bacterial ecology, there is also a normal spiritual ecology. Minor spirits, youkai, odd passing ripples in spirit power; all of those will strip some energy from living humans. Usually without long-term harm.” He frowned. “A better metaphor might be that you are the only one on a summer night walking around without mosquito repellent. A few bites are no trouble to a healthy individual. But a thousand bites, to someone already anemic?”

There was a furtive motion near the edge of Ichigo’s doorway. Damn it. Ryuuken had better not say anything that would upset Karin and Yuzu. “So how do we fix this?” Ichigo said pointedly. Get his sisters focused on what mattered, not scared at their big brother being hurt. Again.

Light gleamed off glass. “I understand you still have problems with gang members.”

Ichigo shrugged, wondering what the point was. “Some idiots just won’t listen.”

Leaning back in the chair, Isshin folded his arms. “We could do something about that.”

Ichigo tried not to sigh. “Dad....”

“That wouldn’t solve the problem.” Ryuuken glanced back at Ichigo. “Are you familiar with the principle of hormesis?”

“Um....” Ichigo racked his brain. “Something about lead in Egyptian kohl being a good thing, ‘cause it got the immune system revved up to kill off eye infections?” Which was weird.

Isshin sat up straight in his borrowed chair. “That’s biochemistry, not souls.”

“Is it? I was under the impression that is exactly why Urahara applies deadly danger to shinigami in need of more power. Low doses of a toxin, precisely injected, can rouse the body and spirit to clear out damage that would otherwise continue to poison it.” Ryuuken held his fellow doctor’s gaze. “We’ve seen it work.”

“My son’s seen enough danger for a lifetime!”

“As has mine,” Ryuuken said sharply. “And yet, if you starve a mammal of background radiation, their immune system weakens, and can eventually fail. That is scientific fact, Kurosaki.”

Isshin growled under his breath.

Ichigo rubbed at a twinge that wasn’t quite a headache. Yet. “Hold on, are you saying I should go looking for trouble?”

Ryuuken looked at him a long moment. “Your spirit is badly scarred. Burns are the nearest physical analogy I have. And while a few months of avoiding danger was likely wise, just as you would not send a patient out with uncovered third degree burns... now you need to put gentle stress on the scars.” He paused. “You might start with rollercoasters. Or climbing walls. Anything that would provide a mild exposure to danger to strengthen your soul’s immune system, without the risk of further spirit injuries.”

Mild exposure. Yet Ryuuken had specifically brought up his ongoing clashes with gang members. And Uryuu’s dad never did anything without a reason-

He’s the Director of Karakura General. A surgeon. What if he worked on Li’s Uncle Kuno?

“Rollercoasters,” Isshin snorted. “Come on, Ryuuken. That’s kid stuff-”

“And by the laws of modern society all your children are still legal minors,” Ryuuken cut him off. “The mortal world has laws against child soldiers, Isshin. Very specific ones. There are times I’d like to hit all of Soul Society with their penalties. My son will have nightmares for the rest of his life because the Gotei Thirteen couldn’t clean up their own damned mess.”

Ichigo was not going to flinch. “Uryuu told you-?”

“He didn’t have to tell me.” Ryuuken’s gaze never wavered from Isshin. “I know what he went through. I know how close he came to death; not once, but multiple times. If he didn’t have nightmares, he wouldn’t be human.”

Isshin started at that. And looked at Ichigo, as if he’d just walked into the room after weeks gone.

Ah, man. I could have gone forever without bringing that up. “They’re not that bad,” Ichigo muttered. Most of the time I don’t even scream. And I get back to sleep. Most of the time. Eventually.

Granted, a lot of the times he did get back to sleep, was because Yuzu and Karin had swiped the blankets off their own beds and snuck into his room. So he could hear someone else breathing. So he knew they were alive.

“Ichigo.” Isshin leaned forward, bushy black brows scrunched down in worry. “You never said....”

“It’s over, right?” Ichigo shrugged. “No point in talking about the past.”

After all, when had they ever? Nobody talked about the fact that Isshin had been a shinigami; that he still could be, when Hollows came calling. Nobody talked about how he must have hated being powerless years back, when one particular Hollow had gone hunting for a boy and killed his mother instead.

Nobody talked about Masaki’s death. Ever.

And nobody admitted what all of them knew by now; what ex-shinigami captain Isshin had to have known all along. Ichigo had attracted Grand Fisher. His own damn leaking power had killed the heart of their family, and they all knew it. What were some nightmares next to that?

From the doorway, he heard Yuzu stifle a whimper.

“Injuries affecting you in the present are not past.” Ryuuken took a Karakura General card out of his suit pocket and wrote down a time. “Come see me after school. I have more specialized equipment at the hospital.”

Gingerly, Ichigo took it. “If there’s needles, I’m gone.”

“No needles,” Ryuuken hmphed. “I need a baseline reading on the damage, so we can chart improvement. And head off any further injuries.”

“Ishida.” Isshin crossed his arms, dead serious. “We can fix this. Right?”

“A few more months and the prognosis would not be as good,” Ryuuken noted, rising. “But yes, I think we can.” He gave Ichigo a nod. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Seated in a chair in Ryuuken’s office the next afternoon, Ichigo eyed the piece of quartz the doctor was dangling from a silver chain. “Your specialized equipment looks an awful lot like a pendulum.”

“It is.” Ryuuken flicked polished facets with a fingernail, setting it spinning. “I don’t need to use it often, so I prefer to keep it where I can store it in a controlled environment.”

“And you’re just going to... check out the damage.” Ichigo fought the urge to squirm. “I don’t feel damaged.”

The doctor gave him a look askance.

“They’re not damaged, they’re gone,” Ichigo said harshly. Missing the gleam of amber glasses, even the maniacal cackle. “And nothing’s going to fix that. I just need to get used to it.”

“We’ll discuss that.” Ryuuken lifted the chain. “In about ten minutes.”

Some of the most boring, annoying ten minutes of his life. Ryuuken would move the crystal over a chakra. Take notes. Move. Take notes. And on, and on.

Leaning back on the padded headrest, Ichigo dozed.

“That should do for now.”

Ichigo cracked an eye open in time to see Ryuuken slip the pendulum into a silky blue pouch. “That’s it?”

“This will establish a baseline. We should take new readings at least once a week to monitor your progress.” Sitting behind his desk, the doctor gave him an assessing look. “But first I need to be frank. My son is not the one who informed me you were injured.”

That didn’t sound good. “So who did?” Ichigo asked. “Chad? Orihime?” He bit his lip. “Karin?” Yuzu might be Isshin’s dutiful little nurse, but Karin was skeptical enough of everything their father did that he could see her coming to Ryuuken.

“I believe you know him as Li Tian.”

Urk.

This was no time to panic, Ichigo told himself firmly. Kuno had been in Karakura General, Dr. Ishida had probably at least heard about his case, and any competent doctor would want to know the name of the family member making sure a patient got home alright- Wait. “What do you mean, know him as?”

“We both know that’s an alias.” Ryuuken didn’t turn a hair. “Though given the amount of lead my team pulled out of his Uncle Kuno, they have good reasons to be hiding. Their employers apparently meant his to be a permanent retirement.”

He knows. Though somehow that didn’t hit as hard as- “Workplace accident.”

“You could call Kuno’s survival an accident,” the doctor mused. “Or the result of very quick thinking by coworkers who were expected to let him die... and refused.”

Ichigo swallowed. “But... Li wouldn’t....” Would he?

“Oddly enough, I think you’re right,” Ryuuken nodded. “Li has a conscience. Damaged, but it exists.” He leaned his elbows on the desk. “Which means you have a choice to make. I’d prefer it if it was an informed one.”

Doesn’t sound good. “What kind of a choice?” Ichigo asked warily.

The doctor inclined his head. “The methods I described to your father probably would help, over an extended period of time. But the longer you take to heal, the more damage will occur in the meantime, and the more easily you could be injured just by the backwash of a Hollow attack. And no matter how skilled and determined your classmates are at taking up Kurumadani’s slack, eventually they will miss one.”

Ichigo sucked in a breath. Because damn it. His friends were good, they were trying-

But he’d fought too many Hollows not to know the odds. Dr. Ishida was right. Blunt as a ten-ton boulder dropped on someone’s head, but right. “So what’s the other option?”

“More danger, more quickly, with someone prepared to pull you out if the hazard is too great,” Ryuuken stated. “Someone whose ethics see no problem in bringing a teenager into mortal peril, yet whose conscience would drive him to rescue you if you got in over your head. Ordinarily I would say that was an impossible combination.”

Outside of Urahara and a bunch of people now busy in Soul Society, Ichigo had to agree. “You think I should go climbing with Li.”

“He’s offered to teach you quite a bit more than that.” The doctor adjusted his glasses. “This is a risky course of action. Li is a very dangerous person. Possibly one of the most deadly living souls you will ever met.”

Ichigo swallowed. “I know he was a criminal-”

“He was an assassin.” Cold eyes bored into him. “And he deduced you’d been trained as one, as well.”

Ichigo froze. What?

“I believe I’ve talked him out of paying your father a late-night visit,” Ryuuken went on, as if he diagnosed people as killers every freaking day. “But I’m not sure Li himself understands how angry he is, seeing another young man taught to kill. Li has been immersed in the criminal underworld for almost half his life. In a sense, our world is just as alien to him as it would be to any shinigami fresh from Soul Society.” The doctor shrugged. “That’s what makes this dangerous. For both of you.”

Ryuuken’s office was suddenly swimmy. “Li would have gone after my dad?”

Glasses gleamed. “He gave the option serious consideration.”

Okay, Ichigo knew enough of Uryuu’s body language to know that was an Ishida contemplating mayhem. “Hope you did talk him out of it. Li could’ve gotten hurt.”

The doctor gave him a long look.

Ichigo felt his ears burning. “What? Dad’s an ex-captain in a gigai. Li’s, well... not.”

Seriously. His dad was a shinigami, which meant he was already dead. The absolute worst any human assassin could do to Kurosaki Isshin was leave a bloody mess on the floor he’d have to return to Urahara for repairs. But that might make Yuzu cry, and then Ichigo would have to punch Li for the honor of big brothers everywhere, and everything would get messy.

“That’s true,” Ryuuken mused. “And yes, I think I have, once I explained that the gaping holes in your father’s records were due to archaic family traditions, not a criminal cover.”

Wow. That was... wow. “He really thought Dad was some kind of underworld guy?”

“The way he laid out the evidence? Li had good cause. And we may need to take precautions to make sure no one else jumps to the same conclusion.” Ryuuken grimaced. “Ichigo. I know you care about your father. I imagine you’ve forgiven him - though possibly not as much as you think. But what Isshin and Urahara did was wrong. No one should put the responsibility for killing a murderous criminal on a child.” He folded his hands together. “The fact that Li can see that, and want to stop it, makes me think he’s salvageable after all.” He paused. “Of course, reintroducing him to normal human society would take considerable effort. From someone compassionate enough to forgive Li’s mistakes, but trained enough to protect himself if the situation did turn dangerous.”

Now I’m really confused. “Who’s supposed to be treating who, here?” Ichigo demanded.

“You are both my patients,” Ryuuken noted. “I think you can help each other.”

Li was Dr. Ishida’s patient? He was climbing buildings. “What’s wrong with him?”

Ryuuken’s glasses gleamed. “That would be confidential.”

Doctor-patient confidentiality. Argh. But- “So how come you told him about me?” Ichigo asked pointedly.

“I didn’t.” Not one white hair out of place. “Li made his own observations, told me his conclusions, and volunteered.”

Ichigo gave him a sideways look. “What, just like that? He’s a criminal, you say he’s dangerous, I know he’s hiding from people - and he just, what, said that kid’s in trouble, how about I help out?”

Ryuuken almost smiled. “Yes.”

Ichigo was not going to flop against the chair. No matter how bewildered he felt. “...People don’t do that.”

“I have it on good authority you’ve made a habit of it.” Ryuuken steepled his fingers. “I can’t divulge medical details. But from a purely personal perspective, it seems to me Li is suffering from years of denying that he has a conscience. Even to himself.” Pale brows rose. “I wonder why it’s surfaced so thoroughly now.”

“Maybe he got shocked out of it,” Ichigo muttered. “They were in Tokyo, right? Can I borrow your computer? Think you ought to see something.”

It only took a minute to find the right video. Ryuuken watched the tsunami of light reach out from Hell’s Gate. Stopped. Replayed. And again.

Ichigo bounced once in his chair, then told himself to behave, this was serious. “It looks like a bankai.”

Ryuuken frowned at the frozen image. “So it does.”

“I didn’t think you could film a bankai.”

“So far as I know, you can’t.” The doctor leaned back in his chair, thoughtful. “This may give me a place to start.”

“Start on what?” Ichigo pounced. “Can’t you tell me something?”

“In relation to your own case, yes.” Ryuuken closed the video. “I’m told your father used the same finishing move you used on Aizen, years ago. It took over a decade and a significant infusion of power, but he did regain his spiritual abilities. The obvious conclusion is that if we treat your injuries, you should be able to regain them as well.”

That’s not an answer- what?

He couldn’t think. For a minute, Ichigo almost couldn’t breathe. “Sandal-Hat said they were gone.”

“Urahara Kisuke,” Dr. Ishida said, very deliberately, “is a scientist. Not a doctor.”

Oh god. Oh man, the room was trying to be spinny. Not good. “Ten years.”

“Possibly. Possibly longer; you also had Hollow energies, which at the very least would complicate any course of treatment,” Ryuuken observed. “But if the only medical attention Isshin had was Urahara? I intend to treat this now, not leave it to fester.” He drew a breath, and nodded. “Let’s give this a week, and see what happens.”

Chapter Text

Another week later.

Seated behind his desk, reading light glinting off white hair, Ishida made another in a growing file of notes. “What do you mean, your power is pushing at you?”

Hei gripped his own arms, wondering if the touch would be enough feedback to stop any circuit from forming. Though it wasn’t nearly that bad. Just... prickly. “I’ve never gone this long without using it. Even when I was supposed to be locked down in Pandora for a month - things happened.” For once more along the lines of violent self-defense than assassination, but still. “It’s... like not taking a cat for a run. It starts getting crazy. Jumping the shelves. Making paper blizzards.”

Ishida leaned the pen away from the page. “Most people would take a dog for a run.”

“It’s not a dog,” Hei said firmly. “Dogs take orders.”

“Hmm.” Ishida tapped the page. “I would guess that while she possessed you, Bai had partial control over the Contract as well. So it would make sense that the power never felt completely part of you.” He lifted his gaze. “But it is yours now. You’ll have to come to terms with it.”

“Can’t practice if I’ll get caught.” Hei breathed out, trying to let go of that feeling of constriction. Like wearing a waiter’s uniform when he needed a knife right now. “The best idea I have is to take a bullet train out to the country, try a few things, and get back before Section Four can catch up.”

“I’d never realized what an advantage it was that only spirits could detect a use of power,” the doctor mused. “Though I wonder....”

“It’s the star,” Hei reminded him. “How can you keep the world from seeing that?”

“I’ve encountered sadistic fools who might try,” Ishida said, half to himself. “The real problem is keeping the police, or your ex-employers, from linking your use of power to where you are.” He shook his head. “I’m not sure whether to curse whoever took that video or be glad I at least understand why your employers are utterly determined to see you in their hands. Or dead.”

Hei had to look away, recalling the wave of white light Ishida had shown him days ago. Surviving inside the Gate had been terrifying enough. He’d had no idea what disarming the Syndicate’s plan had looked like from outside.

It won’t be just the Syndicate that comes for me.

The Japanese government - the world - would want to know what had happened inside Hell’s Gate. And he’d had more than enough of being a lab rat. “I couldn’t do that anywhere else. The Gates... reality doesn’t work right there.” Hei dared a glance at Ishida. “But people probably wouldn’t believe that. Would they.”

“I’m afraid not.” Ishida’s frown deepened.

Hei sat up straight. He didn’t hear anything out of place. He definitely didn’t see anything; though earlier tonight Ishida had confirmed a silvery blur near the ER was a recent ghost, which had done a former assassin’s nerves no good whatsoever. How could you leave no witnesses if dead men talked? “What is it?”

“Ordinarily I favor living as normal a life as reasonably possible. But it’s irresponsible not to have your own powers under control. You need to practice. Without getting caught.” The doctor glanced down at paper, as if looking through it. “I may have an option. I’ll need to investigate further.” He let out a slow breath. “In the meantime....”

Stalling tactic, Hei knew. Something he wants to talk about, but can’t.

“So far, I would say Ichigo’s new hobbies seem to be beneficial,” Ishida stated. “Speaking as an acquaintance, he seems... less tense.”

Which was probably as close as a good doctor would get to discussing anything without permission. Hei nodded. Hesitated. What do I say? What should I say?

Well. He could try some of the truth. “It’s... kind of nice to go over.. some interesting things, when no one’s getting killed?”

Ishida stared at him.

Hei felt his cheeks burn. Damn it, he could pull off an alias half-drunk and with a concussion, and had. Why did trying to be honest always crash and burn?

“Like a shinigami trying to be human,” Ishida murmured. Arched a brow. “Now that was an interesting twitch.”

Ah. Yeah. “Mao helped me with some translations.”

Ishida settled his hands on his notes; evidently prepared to wait an hour if that was what it took to get him to talk.

“My code name in the Syndicate.” Hei tried to shrug. “If you hear someone bring it up, and they’re not a cop, you should probably kill them. Or run.” Breathe in. Breathe out. “In Japanese, it’s... Kuroi Shinigami.”

He’d seen a lot of reactions to that name, from disbelief to panic to utter, white-faced terror.

A hidden smile. That was new. “What’s so funny?”

“When they’re on duty, every shinigami wears black,” Ishida shrugged. “The ones you have to watch out for are wearing the white haori. Those are the captains.” He paused. “And Urahara is dangerous no matter what he’s wearing. Usually he favors green. And a truly odd striped hat.”

So one of Ichigo’s former teachers was a shinigami? Definitely not going into Urahara Shoten, Hei thought. We’ll find candy somewhere else.

“Though I admit I’m curious why they gave you that name,” the doctor mused. “Appropriate for an assassin, but what it implies? Death is inevitable. Humans miss.”

“Sometimes I did,” Hei admitted. “It’s hard to get the ones who teleport.”

Ishida’s fingers gripped his pen. “Teleport.”

“And then there was Wei. I had to kill him twice.” Hei grimaced, because that? That was the universe being completely unfair. “I wonder how much time Amber rewound to pull that off.”

“...There are Contractors who can rewind time.”

“Just Amber. And she’s... gone.” Hei had to look away. “She was the one who planned for Hell’s Gate to explode, like Brazil, and leave Contractors alive. Tried to get me to make that choice: humans or Contractors.” He swallowed. “I found another way.”

Shouldn’t have said it. Shouldn’t have said anything. He’ll ask about Amber, and... what can I say? I hated her. I needed her. I wanted to love her but she always lied to me, even about Bai. Especially about Bai.

Because if either of them had just told him, admitted that Contractors were starting to feel again, starting to look beyond reason to friend, and maybe even family-

Then maybe he’d never have held his sister’s throat between his fingers, and called himself a coward for not killing her.

“Teleportation.” A pen scratched across the page. “Perhaps you could give me an idea of the range of Contractor abilities? If the Syndicate does locate your team, I’d prefer to know what kinds of mayhem my hospital might suffer.”

He’s not asking.

Hei’d take the small mercies he could get. Ishida should know what might land on his doorstep. “Contractors aren’t like you. Every Contractor has just one power.”

“Thank the gods for small favors,” Ishida murmured. “Such as?”

“Teleportation’s not rare,” Hei obliged. “I’ve seen a lot of variations. Someone who could teleport themselves, another who could teleport herself and anyone she was in contact with... um, those would be the ones who steal scrubs once they get inside. If they care. They can teleport themselves, not clothes. Another could switch something he was touching with something he targeted; that was really hard to dodge, when he was after your heart.” Sometimes he woke, feeling that unnamed Doll’s blood on his cheek. Odd; so many kills had drenched his hands in red. Why did dreams bring the blood he’d never touched? “And Wei blew things up by teleporting anything coated in his blood. I’m sure there’s other variants.” Huh. He’d never really tried to classify Contractor powers in his head. Though he was sure the Syndicate had. It’d been enough to know what an enemy could do, so he could work out a counter. “I’ve seen possession, cryokinesis, pyrokinesis, hydrokinesis, electrokinesis, and gravity control. Contractors who could stop your breathing, explode your organs; one who could control atmospheric pressure enough to cause spontaneous rainstorms - that was tricky when her partner had cryokinesis, if I hadn’t stopped him with-” He cut himself off. “I mean... Huang fired a flash-bang, that was enough heat to melt the ice and give me a distraction.”

The pen stopped. “I notice,” Ishida said deliberately, “that while you’re willing to discuss other Contractors, or Dolls in general, you have been distinctly evasive when it comes to your own Contract.”

“Habit.” Rumors of what the Black Reaper could do had gotten out, of course they had, but he tried not to give it away. Not to mention that what he’d done to the Pandora facility proved his power had never been what he’d thought. “And... I didn’t want you afraid to do exams.”

The doctor looked up, face set. “You have a touch-lethal power.”

“Yes.” Which wasn’t a lie, not exactly- ah, damn it. It might be important. Medically. “I can create electrical charges. And redirect them.”

Ishida’s glance flicked to where his shirt hung loose, hiding the belt and wires underneath.

Hei shrugged, trying for some of Li’s innocence. “I can also fix TVs?”

“That would be the lower end of the scale, I take it.” Ishida’s tone was very dry. “The upper end?”

Ah. Yeah. “...I melted the equipment.” Hei tried for another shrug, felt his shoulders stiffen, ready for an attack. “Somewhere past lightning strike.”

“Hmm.” The tension went out of Ishida’s form. “Good.”

Hei had to blink. “Good?”

“If you are attacked by a Hollow, don’t hold back,” Ishida advised. “Normal Hollows can be killed by any blow that would be fatal to a very tough human. For older monsters... you might need all of it.”

Some Hollows needed a lightning strike to kill them. Why had he thought going to ground here was a good idea, again?

Because the Hollows might kill us, but the Syndicate will definitely kill us, Hei told himself firmly. Ishida’s a Hollow target, and he’s stayed.

Though Ishida didn’t have to worry about the government catching him. Yet.

He’s a doctor. He’s probably not worried about himself. “Your people should be safe. If we’re caught.”

That drew Ishida up straight in his chair. “I’m sorry...?”

“It’s in my files,” Hei informed him, matter-of-fact. “I’m trained to manipulate people. If the Syndicate catches up with us, they’ll think you and the hospital are innocent bystanders we leveraged into helping us.” He looked aside, considering all angles of the situation. “Ichigo should be safe, too. His family’s alive, so he’s obviously not a Contractor. They’ll note him as someone I cultivated as a local source, that’s all.” Maybe. Those eyes.... “As long as he makes sure he looks innocent.”

Silence.

Damn it. Not acting as an alias was confusing. “Did I say something strange?”

The doctor was eyeing him like an x-ray with an odd blur on it. “You really wouldn’t hurt someone who wasn’t a target, would you.”

“No?” Hei agreed, bewildered. “Collateral damage makes any other mission harder. Section Four knew I wasn’t after them, so they targeted other Contractors first. And hurting civilians means anyone they’re connected to is now a possible source of risk to the mission. Even if they’re afraid to hurt you, they have eyes, and ears, and information leaks in the right place will kill you as dead as a knife. I had to tell Bai that so many times....” He couldn’t go on.

She’s gone. She’s really gone. I don’t even have a body to burn. What do I do now?

First things first. He had to keep his team alive. And that meant giving their evidently combat-experienced doctor enough information that Ishida didn’t get himself killed.

Nodding to himself, Hei looked up. “The first thing you have to know, if you fight Contractors, is that it doesn’t matter what their power is. You have to know how they think.”

“Pyrokinesis,” Ryuuken said flatly.

“If they’re experienced enough for the Syndicate to send them on assignment, then they know enough not to waste their power. It’s not rational to incinerate your target if his bodyguards will kill you while you’re paying your price.” Hei drew a breath. “A Contractor does what they think is in their rational self-interest. If that means betraying their employers, they’ll do that. If it means taking a hostage, they’ll take one. If it means picking up a shard of broken glass to slit the throats of everyone on the whole floor so they leave no witnesses....”

“I see.” Ryuuken’s glasses gleamed. “Mass homicide would have every police officer in Japan hunting for them.”

“Yes,” Hei agreed. “But not every Contractor thinks of that.”

“...Of course they don’t,” Ryuuken sighed. “Rationality combined with intelligence and long-term thinking? That would be expecting too much of the universe.” His pen hovered over the page. “Go on. I have rounds to do in an hour... and it seems we have a lot to cover.”

Scowl on his face, Ichigo headed for the Sasajima Market, and tried not to feel guilty about random bystanders doing a double-take and getting the hell out of his way. It’d been months since he’d had the energy to be a properly grumpy adolescent punk after school, and he was going to enjoy it, damn it.

Because two days ago, he’d spotted a weird blur out of the corner of his eye. And felt a shiver where no cold spot should be.

Dr. Ishida had been able to confirm it just yesterday. The trickling wounds in his soul hadn’t stopped bleeding; not yet. But according to the Quincy they were healing over, and he’d regained just a touch of spiritual pressure. Not much. Yuzu probably had more. But something.

And when Ryuuken had told him that Ichigo could see the relation to Uryuu, because the pair of them had that same little frustrated eye-twitch. The one that meant, Kurosaki, I don’t know how you convince the universe to let you keep breathing, but I’m actually glad you’re alive. I’d just never admit it.

He was going to get better. He was going to see spirits again.

...Annoying, cranky, sobbing ghosts running from the Hollows or the shinigami. Go figure.

But if he could see even as much as Yuzu, then maybe people would stop flinching around him. He had enough flinches of his own, damn it. He didn’t want to hurt everybody else.

A cranky punk kid probably wouldn’t hug Li. Probably.

And if he did hug Li, he’d make sure the ex-criminal saw it coming. Because the guy hid it well, especially when other people were watching, but he had as many twitches as Orihime had had after they’d rescued her from the Arrancar. The way Li would just... freeze, sometimes. At an accent, a turn of phrase, the silhouette of a thin teenage girl.

Somebody hurt him. A lot. For a long time.

Made Ichigo want to drag the guy home and feed him Yuzu’s cooking. Only Li and Goat-Face in the same room would be a disaster. Isshin would be loud and exuberant and throw a punch for training, and Li-

Li would probably try to fillet the idiot before he could think through, wait, bad idea. Because that was what fighting for your life did to regular humans. Ichigo knew that firsthand.

Nope. Much, much better to grab a snack with the guy at little street shops, then follow him through the latest alley or crowd for whatever interesting tidbit Li’d decided to teach today. So far they’d gone over climbing, tailing, losing a tail, what to look for to set up a dead drop, and spent two hilariously embarrassing hours with makeup. Though Li called that contouring, and admitted he never used it unless it was an emergency. Easier just to switch out jackets and look harmlessly innocent.

Ichigo had absolutely no clue how Li pulled off harmlessly innocent.

Which was probably just as well. From what Ichigo had seen of spy and underworld stuff in this world and Soul Society, it seriously messed with your head. Way better to go after whoever needed a pounding one on one.

Although talking about fighting with Li punched Ichigo in the heart like a glimpse of one ice-wielding shinigami. Despite the guy having a good foot on her. And, you know, not being dead. Because Li. Seriously. Did not. Believe in fighting fair.

Ichigo had to skitter sideways on the sidewalk from shadows just thinking about the one spar they’d had so far. Because Li did not throw punches. Li threw fists. Elbows. Feet. Cartwheels. Random shattered bottles. Bits of freaking newspaper. If it was there, it was a weapon.

Urahara had taught him zanjutsu and cutting his opponent down, no matter what. The ex-captain’s training relied on spirit pressure to block lesser blades, and keep a shinigami alive through what ought to be mortal blows. Li’s fighting style-

Li fights like a mortal.

Dodge any hits you could; human bodies bruised. Avoid sharp edges; human bodies bled. Finish fights as hard and fast as possible, because human bodies got exhausted.

Which wasn’t that far off from how an unseated, power-stripped shinigami had had to fight Hollows. Rukia would like Li. Ichigo was sure of it.

He liked Li. Kind of a lot. Scary hints of a past and all. A guy who had the skills to be a ninja assassin was holding down at least two part-time jobs to keep the rent paid and get his cousin her favorite candy. Kirsi was quiet and shy, but trying to talk to people in fits and starts. And she was kind to cats, patiently coaxing strays out with treats. To the point Mrs. Sasajima had let her put up a little card on the market bulletin board with Lost pets found and a small fee listed. And as for Uncle Kuno... well. Guy was homely, no two ways about it. But he steadied Kirsi when she froze up with people, and if he wasn’t well enough to move fast yet, he had enough patience to outwait the most stubborn old yip-yap dog that’d dug itself under a foundation.

Ichigo liked them. Which wasn’t at all what he’d expected from people who gave him Vizard vibes. Yeah, he’d liked the Vizards too - eventually - but they were all so angry. Not just because of their Hollows. Because they’d been betrayed, and spat on, and under a sentence of execution for a hundred years for something that was not their fault. It was Aizen’s fault, all of it, and the fact the ex-captain had gotten away with it had left every last Vizard bitter to the core.

Li’s family wasn’t bitter. How, Ichigo had no idea. Though maybe because they really were criminals. They’d done horrible things; Li admitted as much. Now... now they just wanted to live.

Like me.  

Ichigo would never, ever forget everyone who’d died because of Aizen’s dream of conquering heaven. And there was blood on his own hands, he couldn’t wash it off...but he’d never forget who’d let Aizen get that far, either. He’d be just as happy to leave Soul Society to go stew in its own self-important juices and never deal with the Gotei Thirteen again.

When I die, I’m asking the first guy I meet in Rukongai where the Shiba mansion is. Kuukaku’s got sense.

He didn’t miss the Gotei Thirteen. He missed people. Rukia. Renji. Toushirou. Even Byakuya, the stiff-necked idiot. So long as he could see them again, someday... then maybe he could take care of his piece of the world, and leave Soul Society to take care of itself.

And part of his world was a skittish shelf-stocker who could climb buildings bare-handed. Now if he could just talk to the guy and Ryuuken and figure out who to hit so Li could stick around. If he wanted to stick around....

Ack. Situational awareness, idiot!

She was still a few yards away, at least he hadn’t stepped on her - but that was Yuzu, walking into the market. Now what?

Act natural. Li works there, of course Yuzu’s going to run into him. Not going to look strange if you know him, either.

Taking a deep breath, Ichigo headed in.

“-No way!” Yuzu’s voice was bright and happy next to the eggs. “It’s just a manga. No one can just flip raw eggs and vegetables together like that in one toss. It’d go everywhere.”

“Well....”

Uh-oh. That was Li sounding thoughtful.

“You’d have to have really good reflexes,” Li went on thoughtfully, moving older eggs from main shelf to the discount section. Ichigo made a note to give Chad a call; the prices looked decent for the age, and if Li was shifting things he’d bet every dozen was intact. “But I wouldn’t try it in China.”

“Maybe.” Yuzu’s blonde brows scrunched down, as the twelve-year-old considered improbable recipes. And possibly shinigami flash step. “But why not in China?”

Li glanced from one end of the aisle to the other in an obvious look of subterfuge, then leaned closer. “Don’t eat raw egg in China. Trust me. Bad idea.” Straightening again, he smiled at Ichigo. “Kurosaki! Is this your sister? You didn’t say you had a chef in the family.”

“Um,” Ichigo managed.

Yuzu was pink, heading toward red. “I’m not a chef yet! I just like to cook. I don’t really do anything fancy.”

“Good simple meals are the best,” Li nodded. “So what were you planning?”

And she was off, hands waving as she listed off ingredients for hot-pot and what setting worked best with the old rice cooker and recipes she might try the next time someone in the house needed a treat. Ichigo listened, and shook his head. He could talk about recipes and the housework with Yuzu, he’d taught her how to get started, but actual cooking? He didn’t burn rice, and he could put together a decent sandwich. That was more or less it.

Though it was more Yuzu talking and Li just putting in a word or two as he worked. Huh. Like conversational judo. Ichigo let the happy babble wash over him, waving as his sister hit the cash register and skipped out the door. And trying not to sigh or snicker as Yuzu did a quick sidestep, almost bumping into Kirsi and Uncle Kuno as they headed for the bulletin board. “Could I do that?”

“You just need practice.” Folding his apron neatly, Li tucked it into his employee locker and picked up a battered green duffel bag that’d been hiding behind cartons of soba noodles. “The trick is really caring what they say.”

Ah. Yeah. That would definitely be the hard part. He could probably try with Yuzu, but how did you care about a complete stranger’s cooking?

The duffel, now; that Ichigo cared about. Because that unassuming bag meant Li was carrying his climbing gear. Or maybe something even more interesting. “So what’s the plan for this afternoon?”

Li’s smile was a faded thing, but somehow more real than the innocent grin he gave every passing customer. “Well, if you were interested, I thought we might try a climb that has... limitations.”

Eep? “Height? Speed?” Ichigo asked warily. Because climbing was fun, but he was getting used to the idea you had to plan it first.

“Security cameras.”

For a moment, Ichigo flashed back to Yoruichi’s smuggest smirk, and wondered if pale, blue-eyed Li was a very lost reincarnated Shihouin. Because augh. How had the guy picked up on the fact that one of the things that still made an ex-substitute shinigami twitch was the idea of being seen?

Li shouldered the bag without a flicker of expression. Waiting.

Limitations means not getting caught, Ichigo told himself. “Sounds good-”

Wait. Wait, Li’s face hadn’t twitched, but there was something alive in blue eyes, like pure cat mischief. Why-?

Which was when the memories of one evil black kitty waved in his brain that Li wasn’t just showing him how to not get caught, but what to do when you did. Because plans always, always went wrong.

Oh no. “You’re going to have us wave at a camera once we get to the top,” Ichigo predicted. “Just to mess with their heads.”

Yep. There came that brighter gleam. “Well, I wasn’t planning to - but that sounds like fun.”

I am so dead....

The market door-jingle was a welcome distraction. Ichigo peered that way despite the intervening shelves, hoping to distract Li from imminent death by security camera embarrassment. Cats were distractible, right? Where was a laser pointer when he needed one?

Which made his mind grind to a halt with the image of Urahara, Yoruichi, and a laser pointer. Because Sandal-Hat so would.

“Hideyo?” A woman’s voice, not too old, wavering on the edge of shrill. “Hideyo, where are you?”

There was something seriously wrong with his life, Ichigo thought, already moving, that he could recognize terror and imminent panic from just five words.

But if there was something wrong with him, at least he wasn’t alone. That soundless presence was Li was right behind him, and Kirsi and Uncle Kuno had already stepped back from the bulletin board. Uncle Kuno in particular was giving the frazzled thirty-ish woman gripping the counter in front of Mrs. Sasajima an assessing look that had cop written all over it.

“He’s not here either?” The woman shook her head, stray black hairs flying from her neat bun. “I just looked away for a minute-!”

“Now, now, Mrs. Asao,” Mrs. Sasajima clicked her tongue, “I’m sure he just got distracted. You know that next door has that sale on the little transforming lion-robots-”

“I looked there first!” Mrs. Asao cut her off, knuckles paling. “I’ve looked all over the street! He’s not anywhere! I have to - I can’t-!”

“You have to sit down.” Rounding the counter, Mrs. Sasajima caught her by the shoulder. “Li! Get Mrs. Asao a cup of water.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Eyes wide, Li handed Ichigo the duffel.

Thankfully he’d handled it before when they climbed, so Ichigo knew to subtly get his center of mass underneath. The bag looked like it had maybe a change of clothes in it. Which it did. It also had a considerable heft from everything else Li had packed in, and Ichigo was kind of morbidly curious about how much of the wires and harness and who knew what else was actually legal.

Don’t ask. Can’t get in trouble if you don’t know, right?

And then Ichigo had to do a double-take, because Li’s hands actually shook handing Mrs. Sasajima the water, and he knew Li was cool and calm with the anticipation of trouble coming so how did he do that?

Mrs. Sasajima drew herself up straight as she pressed the glass into Mrs. Asao’s hands, apparently confident she was the cool head here. “Now you drink that, the heat can rattle your brains. If Hideyo won’t come out-”

Water splashed as Mrs. Asao shook her head violently. “He’d come if he could hear me! He’s missing - oh, what if he’s in the road, I’ve told him and told him-!”

“Then the young scamp’s either in trouble, or he will be,” Mrs. Sasajima hmphed. “Either way, we need to call the police.”

Cops? Ichigo tried not to jump, expecting a mass stampede for the door. Li and the others were running from the cops, they weren’t about to... stay... right here....

None of them were moving. Kirsi was still. Uncle Kuno was frowning, for all the world a concerned homely older gentleman about to offer his assistance to a lady in distress. Li was wide-eyed and biting his lip, for goodness’ sake, Yuzu would have taken him home on the spot.

Of course they’re not running. Ichigo manfully restrained himself from slapping his own forehead. Running from cops looking for a missing kid? No way that wouldn’t look shady.

...Oh. So that was what Li was trying to get at when he talked about harmlessly innocent.

They’re going to drive me crazier than Sandal-Hat, I swear.

Or maybe not. Because there was a weird honesty in their craziness. They were all dangerous. Granted, he hadn’t seen Kirsi be dangerous, but he was sure she had some kind of secret ninja poisoned needles up her black jacket sleeves, or daggers in her cobalt wig, or something.

They were dangerous, and they knew they were dangerous, so... they didn’t have anything to prove.

So they could look harmless.

It was so not like Soul Society, it made his head spin.

Or maybe that was just his soul wincing as Mrs. Asao kept shaking and wailing, while Mrs. Sasajima was insisting no, really, the police...

Kirsi bent down a little, whispering in her uncle’s ear.

Uncle Kuno frowned. Almost a grimace. Gave her a look askance.

Kirsi nodded.

Kuno sighed, eyes imploring the ceiling. Glanced at Li, sliding a look at Kirsi that ended with a raised eyebrow.

Li went still. Blue eyes sought Kirsi’s violet. He tilted his head.

She nodded, more firmly.

Li let out a breath, and nodded back.

Ichigo felt his own eyes widen, and tried to bite back questions. Because he might not know what had been silently discussed, but he knew enough.

They’re going to do something. And it could cost them.

“Good idea, ma’am,” Uncle Kuno said respectfully. “But I used to be a detective. Even if we call now it’ll take ‘em time to get organized. Better to get fresh eyes looking right now. Got a picture? Li’s good at poking around alleys.” He squeezed Kirsi’s hand. “Sorry, kid, you should sit this one out. It’s hot, you almost wilted getting here, and kids are a lot harder to talk sense into than cats.”

Kirsi ducked her head. “...Okay.”

Kuno patted her shoulder. “You can help me keep everybody on track if we get more volunteers.”

“I’m sure you will,” Li said brightly. “People around here are pretty responsible.” He glanced at Ichigo. “Maybe you can tell me some good spots to start? I’ve only been here a little while, I don’t know all the places someone could get lost-”

Ichigo scowled, handing over the duffel. Maybe he was no spy-ninja-assassin, but he knew darn well that was we’ve got a plan, you want to help? If you don’t, you’ve got an out.

No. No way.

“You kidding? I’m coming with you.” Ichigo gave him a fiercer look. “You don’t even have a phone yet.”

Li scratched the back of his head, sheepish. “Oh, right, right....”

Yin, I hope you know what you’re doing.

“So what’s the real plan?”

Hei glanced back at Ichigo as they headed around the back of the market and out of sight, still a little surprised the teenager had decided to jump into his team’s plotting with both feet. Yes, they were looking for a missing child, which was technically not a criminal act, but - Kurosaki wasn’t dumb, and he was definitely not naive. He knew they were up to something.

“Whatever it is, we should check the rivers first,” Ichigo went on grimly. “Kids and riverbanks in Karakura? Bad news just waiting to happen.”

Somehow, Hei had the feeling Ichigo wasn’t talking about drowning. “The rivers will be one of the first places we search.”

“One of the-” Ichigo sputtered as they ducked out of sight. “Do you have any idea how many little creeks and culverts and weird places to drown there are in Karakura? It’d take days!”

Yin had said yes. Hei just hoped Ichigo was worthy of her trust. “Kirsi can do it in less than an hour. She’s... special.”

“She’s....” Ichigo trailed off as Hei stopped. “Kirsi’s an albino. I looked it up, their vision’s horrible. But you said she was your lookout.”

Digging into his duffel, Hei nodded. “She has other ways to see.”

“Other ways to-” Ichigo swallowed, glancing around the alley for any stray eavesdroppers. “Lost pets, now a kid... she can find things. Oh hell, no wonder you’re hiding her.”

Hei looked aside. Because that ache in Ichigo’s voice said he understood. It hurt.

“Not going to ask,” Ichigo said firmly. “If Kirsi wants me to know, she can tell me.” He huffed. “But what were you going to do if I didn’t come and she found the kid?”

Oh, this was going to be fun. Pulling his fist out, Hei opened his hand to display two earpieces with mikes.

Always have a backup.

Ichigo blinked, open-mouthed. “...Are those what I think they are?”

“Yes.”

“But-”

“It’s safe,” Hei assured him. “We’ve always checked our equipment for tracers. And our employers were too smart to put tracers on them in the first place. Anything you can track, can be tracked back.” Now he did smile, wry and dark. “The last thing they wanted was for me to know where to find them.”

“Um.” Ichigo didn’t pale. Just straightened, serious and interested. “What did you do-?”

“I was the one they sent when people defected.”

Ichigo blinked. Held that teenage scowl through what had to be a monumental effort of will, for almost ten seconds.

Gave up, and snickered.

Hei let him get it out. It was funny. “Here.” He lifted his own comm to his ear. “This is how you put it on.”

And suddenly he had to catch his breath, because the teenager trusted him enough to mimic him. Even when the earpiece pinched. It had to be secure. The last thing an operative needed was comms cutting out because they’d fallen off when another Contractor’s air-blast sent you through a nearby wall.

Hei watched Ichigo finish. Held up empty hands a moment, then reached over to check the comm really was secure. Nodded, and stepped back. “Comms.”

“Check,” Huang’s growl came over the line.

“Check,” Yin said quietly.

Ichigo took a deep breath. “Check.”

All voices came in clear. Good. Right now Mao was lurking somewhere near the market, ready to break into the net with a warning if a Hollow headed for Yin. And Huang did have a burner phone, with Dr. Ishida on speed-dial. They were as prepared as they could be. “Location?”

“Not on this street,” Yin stated. “Expanding radius.”

“How far can a kid get in a few minutes?” Ichigo muttered.

“More like half an hour, my guess.” Huang’s words were low, but clear, even as the murmur of other voices came through in the background. “Takes a while to admit your kid’s gone.”

“So at least a mile,” Hei stated. “Farther if someone else got involved. Or he got to the trains.” He took a deliberately slow breath. Not the time to burn adrenaline. Not yet. “The farther out he is, the more likely someone else is involved. He’s eight. Half a mile and he’d be tired already.”

Ichigo tensed. “So which way do we go?”

“Nowhere. Until we have a location.” Hei met that impatient gaze, reminded of lessons he’d learned the hard way when he was not that much younger. “Move now, and we might go the wrong way.”

“And... that’d take more time.” Ichigo hugged himself, physically holding back the urge to run off in any likely direction. “Damn it.”

“No chatter,” Huang said shortly. “Problem.”

Not a life or death one, not yet, or Huang would have already told them to abort. Hei nodded. “What.”

“She’s got a reason to panic. Seems past three months, people’ve been going missing around here.”

From the way Ichigo started, that was news to him. “Understood.” Hei settled the duffle on his shoulder, hoping this was just a lost child and he wouldn’t need any of it. Glanced at Ichigo. “Breathe. Just a few minutes.”

The seconds dragged like nails across his skin, but two minutes later Yin drew a sharp breath. “Found him.”

“Location,” Hei requested.

“Past the demolished hospital. Moving north. Two men. One carrying him.” Yin paused. “They have guns.”

It was like running with a whole different person. Li’s face was... cold. Empty.

Scared, Ichigo thought, pushing himself to keep up as Li decided a chain-link fence was a suggestion, not a wall, and bounced up and over it in two hooking steps of worn sneakers. And then the teenager had to side-step and grip and swing, because damn, Li was half-cat, and hadn’t anybody told him roofs weren’t highways?

...Not that Ichigo had any room to throw stones. Nope. Though the last time he’d pelted across Karakura like this, he’d only have fallen if he wanted to.

Or if an Arrancar had punched him in the face. Ow.

He kind of wished he were fighting Grimmjow all over again. Then he’d been scared for his own life, and Rukia’s, and everyone around him. This - being scared for a kid he’d maybe seen once or twice, who was being threatened with a gun instead of a cero-

He couldn’t blame Li for that cold. He wished he could borrow some ice for his own veins. This was going to be ugly. “Cops?” Ichigo suggested between jumps.

Li didn’t look back. “Bad idea.”

“Hate to say it, but he’s right,” Kuno said gruffly. “Locals, guns, kid? They’ll freeze.”

Ichigo swallowed. “But-”

Kuno snorted. “You won’t.”

His heart was in his shoes and there were fanged butterflies trying to claw their way out of his stomach. “How do you know that?”

That earned him a wry laugh. “You’re here, ain’t ya?”

They believed in him. They believed, and they’d asked him to help when a life was at stake.

He hadn’t been part of a team in a long, long time.

“Slowing down,” Kirsi reported. “Stopped. Large house. Abandoned.” A breath. “Moving again. Through the main gate. They had keys.”

And he’d never been part of a team this organized. No wonder Li was hanging onto these two like his life depended on it. It probably had.

Soul Society could learn a lot from these guys.

Ichigo had to pay extra attention to his footing the next few seconds, because his traitor brain had flashed up Li’s team crashing headlong into the whole Gotei Thirteen and whoever’d taken over for the Chamber of Forty-Six.

Either they’d end up running the place, or running for their lives from paranoid hidebound idiots with more power than sense. Again.

Li’s team didn’t have power, and they knew it. More, they knew they didn’t have time. Guns and a random kid off the street - if they were lucky, there’d be a ransom call in. If not-

“They’re going inside.” Kirsi’s voice shook a little. “They’re... afraid.”

Just below the crest of the next roof, Li stopped. Dropped to a crouch; breathing in, slow and deliberate.

Ichigo followed him, telling his traitor heart to slow down, there had to be a good reason Li’d stopped when they were this close-

A stray waft of breeze, and Ichigo knew.

Death.

Faint. If the neighbors noticed, they probably thought of dead rats, or electrocuted pigeons. But Ichigo had met that scent before he’d ever seen shinigami, and sometimes he thought he’d never be free of it.

He hadn’t thought Li’s face could get any colder. The older man yanked open his duffel, movements fast and practiced. “Can you see inside?”

“Some.” Kirsi was silent a moment, as if peering through the distance. “Four men. They had a cloth over the boy’s mouth. They took it away. They’re... stepping around something on the floor. Several things. Can’t get an angle.”

“Be careful. Don’t risk being seen.”

Ichigo blinked. Someone could see what Kirsi was doing? How?

Explain later, Li mouthed.

“Seen?” Kuno bit off a swear. “You think-?”

“Could be our kind of problem.” Li shoved a pen and sketchpad Ichigo’s way, dove back into the bag for something tangled and black. “Layout.”

Ichigo did his best to sketch out the windows and room Kirsi described, marking approximate locations of the Yakuza with guns. Definitely Yakuza; Kirsi had called out several tattoos, at least one of which rang a bell-

Oh wow. Those are serious knives.

Split-bladed, dark except for the very outer edges, long as Li’s forearm and hilts solid enough to be weapons all by themselves. At least three of them; one at each side, one behind. Li stripped off the white shirt, pulled on tight black, snapped the harness on over it, and suddenly looked very dangerous indeed.

Blue eyes met his, flat and so achingly empty.

Ichigo took a breath, not even tempted to flinch. Yakuza, kid in trouble, and what sounded like multiple dead bodies in the house. This was no time to pull punches. “I think this is Boss Yanase’s house. He died about six months ago. In the... earthquakes.” Which was one way to refer to Aizen’s whole mess, and Karakura shifted to a whole other dimension, and- No. Not thinking about it.

Pulling on black gloves, Li nodded once.

“So why’s a boss’s house bein’ used to dump, ‘stead of taken over by the next slime?” Kuno said darkly. “An’ why bring in a kid... oh fuck. You think-?”

Li’s lips bent a hair. “What’s our luck like?”

“Aaaaah hell.” A gusty sigh. “Plan it.”

Li nodded again, drawing a gloved finger across the sketch to where Kirsi had said the boy was. “He’s your target. I’ll take the others.”

“Four on one?” Ichigo said pointedly.

“Your target doesn’t know me,” Li stated. “He’d fight. The first priority is to get him out of there. Alive.”

“And if this is our kind of problem, your first priority is to get the hell out of there,” Kuno growled. “Because this is gonna get messy. Attention-getting messy. Damn it.” A ragged breath. “We could-”

Li’s mouth was a hard line. “He’s eight.”

“...Yeah.”

Li fished out another pair of black gloves, and gave Ichigo a cold stare. “If things go wrong, get out. I’ll need room to pull out the dirty tricks.”

Whatever they thought was in there, this had better be one damn good explanation. “I hear you,” Ichigo ground out, pulling on dark fabric. Weird; felt just a little metallic. Why? “But be careful, damn it! They’ve got guns and you’re not bulletproof.”

Kuno coughed. Kirsi giggled.

Even Li’s eyes thawed a bit, as he took something folded and black out of his back jeans pocket and shook it out.

Ichigo blinked at the longcoat, darker than black, with an odd yellow-green lining. How the hell did all that fold up into a pocket? “What is that?”

Li shrugged it on, almost smiling. “As a friend of mine said... it’s not a fashion statement.”

That must be Yin’s window, Hei thought, studying the pigeon-smeared pane of glass overlooking where they crouched by the artificial pool in the house’s garden. Leaves and pond scum choked the water, muting the tiny waterfall to a fitful gurgle. But none of that got in the way of Yin’s specter. The pale blue shimmer in the shape of a girl rested her hand on his shoulder, light as probing fingers of wind.

Dolls are changing. Yin can touch things now.

Or at least she could touch him. And Mao. Huang, not so much. Ishida speculated it was spirit powers interacting with spirit; that Yin’s specter was becoming less a bodiless observer and more like a true shikigami.

Which was why he’d just signed at her to stay out of sight. Bad enough if the possible Contractor inside saw her. If it could touch her-

If I can touch someone, they’re dead.

Ichigo was crouched down by him, just vibrating a little as he frowned at the pool and then the nearby window, evidently reminding himself that they needed a second to breathe before they assessed the situation. Not bad for sixteen. Not at all.

Orange brows flew up suddenly, just as Yin’s specter sank down into concealing water. But Ichigo stifled any sound of surprise, mouthing, She looks through water?

Hei nodded. Moved, still low, marking suited forms shifting inside and one vaguely stirring child.

Better to go now, take the boy while he’s still out-

Ichigo’s hand grabbed his arm.

He wouldn’t do that without a reason. Hei cast the teen a glance.

“Something’s wrong in there.” Ichigo’s face was pale, but determined. “Karakura’s got... weird earthquakes. That old hospital? Last time I felt something like this, the place tore itself apart.”

Prioritize exit over kills, Hei noted. “Understood.” He raised an eyebrow.

Ichigo swallowed, but didn’t bristle at going over their scanty plan again. “You go, I count to five while you get them away from the window. I grab the kid, I get out, I don’t look back. Rendezvous later.”

Hei nodded, satisfied. Someone had thumped a degree of mission sense into a teenage skull. If it’d been Urahara, the shinigami was not just powerful, but patient. Very, very dangerous.

Problem for later.

The problem now was a simple sheet of glass. Granted, it wasn’t laminated high-rise glass. But there was no convenient place to swing from to crash through feet-first, and most Yakuza bosses had a rudimentary sense of self-preservation. Meaning he was probably gauging that shimmer under the smears correctly and that was bulletproof glass.

No clear line of sight from outside; he doesn’t have to worry about snipers, Hei reflected, reaching into his pocket for two specific packets he’d taken out of his gear earlier. And Yakuza run toward cheap. If he’s just worried about handguns... it’s probably not tougher than Level 3.

Ichigo stared at the clayey off-white bits Hei was breaking off and sticking tiny timers in, eyes just a little wide. “...Um.”

Hei knew that face; from Huang, other handlers, and no few bemused Syndicate trainers. Especially if they realized what Bai’s power was.

You carry explosives. In your pocket. Why.

Hei shrugged. “You never met my last landlady.”

Sweat dripped down the side of Takeoka’s face as he motioned Miyamae forward with the squirming brat. Miyamae didn’t look happy about it. Too damn bad.

One more. Just one more to feed this thing-

Miyamae swallowed, looking at the other two guys for backup and not finding it. “You sure the boss asked for a kid?”

“What Boss Yanase asks for, the boss gets,” Takeoka said flatly. Hand not near his gun; the plan was to act confident. Let the low-levels think he was wavering and he’d be Yanase’s next meal. “Think about all of us, Miyamae. Boss gets what he needs, then he’ll nap for a while. Like he always does. And then maybe we can... take a vacation.”

Well, Takeoka would. Yanase had munched on underlings before, he’d probably take Miyamae and the others out before he even thought about Takeoka. And that’d buy him enough time to get on a plane. Curses couldn’t cross the sea, right?

Yanase’s curses had already put three made men or their families into the hospital. A couple in graves. Takeoka was not going to be next. Even if that meant feeding the damn evil spirit Karakura General’s whole maternity ward.

Sheesh, Miyamae ought to be thanking me. It’s just one kid.

He took another step toward the empty space where Yanase’s chair had been, placed to overlook the pond, all those months back before Karakura’s weird earthquake. Their group had cleared all the furniture and bodies from the fancy dining hall back then. Which was good, because otherwise there wouldn’t be room for the pitiful lumps of garbage he was stepping around.

They’d have to change clothes after they were done here. Wasn’t enough room deodorizer in the world to cover the stink.

Feed it, get the hell out of here - maybe send an exorcist back here later, Takeoka thought. If it works, good; the boys who live’ll owe me. If not...

Something wavered in the air, like waves of cold instead of heat. Behind him Takeoka heard the kid whimper, before one of the shaking Yakuza covered his mouth.

...Then Yanase’ll be hungry again anyway.

“Aaaahhhh....”

Nails across a temple bell. A torrent of tsunami water surging over everything. Yanase’s voice was all of those, and yet still firm and cold as the boss had been in flesh.

“...A snack.” Too-long fingers flexed, like a spider testing its web. Shadows of teeth gleamed. “But first... how goes the reorganization, Takeoka? What progress have you made toward Boss Wada’s permanent retirement?”

“He’s been hard to budge,” Takeoka reported, feeling sweat turn icy. “Haven’t been able to get him here for you personal, Boss. Give us a little more time.” Damn it, he wants to talk first. This is bad. The longer he’s awake, the more of us he’ll eat-

Something crackled, like tiny festival fireworks.

The window? Takeoka jerked his head that way, spirit or no spirit. No way, that’s bulletproof-!

Shatter-white glass crumpled, falling in one sparkling sheet, followed by dark and fast and urk-

Ichigo dove into the edge of chaos, wishing he had the nerves to spare to watch a black coat, whipping wires, and startled Yakuza mooks going down like three of him had cut loose in a bad mood.

Only he couldn’t. Because the little hairs on the back of his neck were all trying to run screaming from the shimmer in the middle of a half-dozen dead bodies. A shimmer with glowing eyes, and reaching fingers, and teeth.

And under the storm-snarl, the clink of a chain.

Jibakurei. I should’ve known, I should have, Orihime and the others said this part of town was drawing Hollows - it’s a damn earthbound ghost. Not a Hollow, not yet, but it’s already eating people-!

He could see the black burns on the fresher bodies. Hand prints. Lip prints, on what had been a woman’s neck.

Part of him wanted nothing more than to bolt and lose his lunch in ragged bushes. And just keep running. He didn’t have powers anymore, there was nothing he could do-

Yes. There is.

Step in. Knock the hand reaching for the weapon away; gun, dagger, it didn’t matter. Keep moving into a yank against the thumb gripping Hideyo, even as his other hand delivered a palm-heel strike that knocked the Yakuza back and into something that squished....

Don’t look!

Ichigo snatched up the screaming kid under one arm, wishing he could scream himself. The half-heard moaning, the deep-sea pressure building in his head and nerves - he didn’t need to see the hole opening in a demi-Hollow’s chest to know when one was about to turn. “Hideyo! Your mom sent us. We have to get out of here.”

Another thrash, then the kid went mostly limp. “There’s a monster!”

“I know!” Ah hell, yet another Karakura resident stuck seeing the spirit world. It was amazing the shinigami hadn’t quarantined the place-

The world imploded.

...Ow, Ichigo thought; ears ringing, knee a distinct throb of pain where it’d hit the expensive wood floor. But at least he hadn’t dropped Hideyo. Or fallen into anything dead-

Dead. Spirit implosion. Hollow’s reforming right damn now! Ichigo tried to shake off the shock, jerking his head toward where Li had just dropped the last thug like a load of cheap laundry. And winced, holding his head like....

Like he can hear the screaming.

Spiritual sensitivity meant spirit energy meant Hollow snack. “We have to run- Duck!”

Li moved, faster than anyone Ichigo’d seen not cheating with spirit powers. The blur of claws was just so much bigger than human.

It’s going to-

Li twisted even as the claws clipped his shoulder, turning the impact into a no-hands cartwheel that flipped him out of the Hollow’s grasp.

Ah hell, that’s got to burn....

And he was standing here like an idiot and not moving. Because he’d been a shinigami, and that was a Hollow, and all his training said move forward, strike, don’t let it get away!

Li’s faster than I am. If it can swat him-

A breath tickled his skin. Hideyo’s head slumped over into the side of his throat, face slack with the all-too-familiar pallor of a spirit-sensitive who’d been flattened by greater power.

If we go down, Hideyo’s dead.

It hurt. It hurt his pride, his training, maybe even his soul. But he knew what Rukia would do. What she had done, fighting Shrieker, to save Chad and a kid’s soul stuck in a parakeet.

Run. Call for backup. “Get outside! We can’t fight it in here!”

He bolted for the empty window-frame, dodging bodies and groaning thugs, heart in his throat. The hell with fighting it in here, they might not be able to fight it at all. Sure, Chad had swatted Shrieker with a telephone pole - but that was Chad. Far as Urahara could tell he’d had buried powers long before Ichigo’d ever met him. Just ask the people whose motorcycles had hit him. Chad had walked away in one piece.

All we’ve got is a little blurry ghost-sight and maybe a teaspoon of spirit-pressure between us. We wouldn’t do any better than that TV idiot Don Kanonji.

Kirsi probably had more power, he’d seen that odd shimmer in her shape leaning over Li from the water... but she was the team’s lookout. She didn’t fight. She shouldn’t fight - if that was a spirit projection the Hollow would just eat it. And who knew how that’d hurt her.

But it’s a pure Hollow now. Soul Society’s radar ought to be ringing bells all over the place. Uryuu and everybody should feel it. All we have to do is stay alive until they get here, if Uryuu uses that Quincy flying leg he’ll be here in minutes-!

Half a breath, and Ichigo ducked and jumped-

It was like running into concrete. Concrete on fire.

Tail, Ichigo thought, head ringing as he slid away from a shimmer that was long, curved, and way too solid. The back of his neck was burning, all the way down his spine. Of course the bastard’s got a tail.

And the Hollow was already smart enough to leave Li - who should have been more tantalizing prey - to keep all of them from getting away.

Minutes is going to be too long-

Shimmer. Slashing toward the two of them. Ichigo rolled, but it was so fast.

A black wire whipped past Ichigo’s nose, carabiner end wrapping itself tight around shimmering air before latching onto the wire. The cord went taut, and yanked.

Claws skimmed through Ichigo’s hair, and a howl shook his bones.

“What is it?” Li had both gloved hands and all his weight bracing the wire, face pale. “Not human. Not a Contractor-”

“It’s a Hollow - an evil spirit!” Ichigo tried to shake off blurry vision, and caught the shadow of a tail flexing to move. “Let go!”

For a second he thought Li would be too stunned by evil spirit to react. But one of Li’s hands dropped to his belt, and the wire cut loose just as the Hollow surged, black cord snapping up to strike against a snarling bone-white mask.

I saw it, Ichigo realized, stunned. Just for a second, but-

Not important. The wire had just glanced off the mask, the Hollow was still coming.

Only now it had a very visible black flutter telegraphing its moves. Because no matter how the Hollow tugged and snarled, it couldn’t seem to phase through Li’s wire.

If we can see it, we’ve got a chance. “Watch out for the tail,” Ichigo got out, staggering upright. “And the claws.”

“Tail.” Li moved close so he could grab a hand to get all the way up, voice flat in a way that said, I’m going to freak out about this later. “How do we fight it?”

“You need spirit powers that can blast a hole in concrete,” Ichigo admitted, “or-”

Wire and Hollow shimmered, gone.

“Ah, hell,” Ichigo groaned. “Why’s this one have to be smart?”

Li whirled, almost back to back with him. “It teleported?”

“Close enough.” And he was going to freak out about Li not freaking out later. Because Li had said teleported the same way Tatsuki would have said flying kick; something nasty but normal for the guy pounding on you to pull out of his bag of tricks. “It’s not here right now, but they don’t like to run from food. It’ll come back somewhere it doesn’t think we’re looking-”

He almost saw the glint of steel in time.

The strike from above seared his shoulders, drove him to his knees and side even as he curled to protect Hideyo. Because there was nothing else he could do. The tail was coiled around his legs and squeezing, claws pierced through his shirt like flaming razors, and it was just too goddamn strong.

I’m going to die like Mom did.

...I tried....

A black glove snagged the dangling wire.

Ichigo’s breath caught, every muscle twitching, the pain of Hollow-burns almost forgotten. Because static across his skin slammed him back to facing down that damn idiot Byakuya on an execution ground for Rukia’s life, one elegant finger touching his shoulder to blast lightning through spiritual flesh and bone.

Byakurai. How-?

The Hollow convulsed, screeching; and if claws dug in and drew blood Ichigo didn’t care. The tail spasmed. Went loose.

Roll!

Ichigo came up in a crouch, still clutching the kid, squinting against the light now flaring in the shadows. Blue-white, like a shinigami raising reiatsu to flatten his opponent into the dust. Only it was around Li, as sparks flew from the wire; real sparks, he could taste the ozone, and how the hell had someone who could barely see Hollows weaponized lightning? He would have sworn Li couldn’t be a shinigami-

And he would have been right, because that red glow in Li’s eyes was one he’d seen before. When Hiyori lifted her Vizard mask. Only there was no mask.

What. The. Hell?

The Hollow thrashed again, shimmering outlined with crackling sparks, ozone biting the air. Li’s lips thinned, glow brightening enough to cast shadows-

A wail, and the monster burst into glittering spirit particles, blowing away on the wind.

He purified it. Ichigo got to his feet, shaky. Like Orihime with Tsubaki.

And like Orihime calling on her most deadly fairy, it looked like it’d cost him. Li was actually breathing hard as he wrapped the wire in loops from hand to elbow, before he stored the bundle in a pouch on his belt. “Get ready to exfil,” he said raggedly. “They’ll have seen that spike.”

“Damn it,” Kuno groaned. “Did you have to?”

“He had to,” Ichigo jumped in. Because he was guessing exfil meant exfiltration, and no. Just no. “But you can’t leave. You need help. Hollow wounds fester. It’s bad.”

Li was shaking his head. “I can’t be here, the cops are coming-”

“Damn right you can’t be here!” Ichigo cut him off. “People are going to come for that Hollow, some of them people I know, and no way am I explaining that window-”

Wait. What?

“Cops?” Ichigo asked warily. “We haven’t called them.” Not to mention Karakura cops knew better than to go near mysterious booms. At least until the dust settled.  

“Not your cops.” Li gave him a serious stare. “People you know?”

“...Explain later?” Ichigo ventured.

Li nodded. “Run beta.”

“Copy that,” Kuno said gruffly.

Ichigo blinked at the short crackle of static, before the comm went silent. “Beta?” He reached up to take the comm off his ear, because Li just had and twitchy as the guy was he didn’t want Li startled-

Fingers encountered hair still standing on end, glomping onto his hand like the static-kiss of death.

Ichigo craned his eyes sideways to glimpse waving orange strands. Looked at Li’s mussed, but still perfectly flat, black hair. “That is just not fair.”

“Practice.” Li tossed something small and black his way.

Ichigo caught the plastic comb, and tried not to growl. Or maybe groan. “Why.”

“To hide the evidence.”

Right. Way, way easier to explain finding a lost kid if he didn’t look like he’d grabbed the wrong end of a power cable. Ichigo licked the plastic and set to work-

The heck? “Now what are you doing?” Because Li was glowing again, as he moved from thug to thug, each one twitching as Li flattened a hand on their face.

“Keeping them out until the cops get here.” Li’s face was cold again. “They won’t remember the last hour.”

Ichigo swallowed. “...You can do that.”

“The brain runs on electricity.” Li glanced at Hideyo drooling on Ichigo’s shoulder; still out, but not as pale. A flicker of uncertainty shadowed the chill. “I... don’t want to hurt him....”

“The Hollow knocked him cold,” Ichigo said soberly, pulling the comb through to flatten his hair somewhere close to normal. “Anything in the last ten minutes is going to be fuzzy. And he’s eight and going to be talking about monsters.” He shifted the kid with a wince; explaining the Hollow burns to Goat-Face was going to be so much fun. “Are we climbing out of here?”

The faintest hint of a smile crossed Li’s face. “I thought we might use the front door.”

A bit of a scramble, two locks, one gate, and they were out. Ichigo’d never been so glad to breathe street exhaust in his life.

Oh man, I hurt everywhere.

Li had to be hurting just as much, but no one would have seen it in the way he moved, heading for the cover of the nearest alley with a black cat’s unhurried grace. “You found the kid here,” Li stated, stripping off coat, harness, and black shirt. “Looked like he had heatstroke. You heard sounds from the house, but the kid was more important....”

Ichigo winced, seeing the Hollow-burn plain on Li’s shoulder before the white shirt covered it. He still didn’t know how the damn stuff got you even through clothes. Probably because it was a spirit-wound. “And we split up a few streets back, you were searching the blocks north of here. Weren’t there, didn’t hear it, couldn’t have seen it.” Damn it, that still didn’t explain why Li wouldn’t be with him, not to mention the little matter of claw-marks- oh. That might work. “And I waved you down and told you the kid was fine, yeah I’m a mess, the kid was squeezed in behind that dumpster and I should’ve been more careful, I got hung up, I’m going right back to the clinic to get a tetanus shot. So you went home to take care of your sick uncle.”

Another faint smile. “Good. Always keep your story simple. And stick to it.”

“You still better explain,” Ichigo grumbled. “Beta?”

“Second exfil plan,” Li obliged. “We wait long enough for pursuers to think we’ve bolted from the area before we leave.”

Damn. I should be taking notes. “You worked that out in advance.”

“You’d rather fight with speed than strength.” Blue eyes met his. “Half the trick of speed is thinking out what you’re going to do before it ever happens.”

“So you don’t have to think when it happens,” Ichigo realized. “That’s... oh.” Oh, damn it, why didn’t Sandal-Hat ever say that?

Li took a deep breath. “I want to explain. I will explain. Later. But right now a special unit is on their way from Tokyo, and if you want to get through any interview with them with your memories intact, you can’t know what happened.”

Memory-wiping. Argh. Why did the shinigami even bother, wasn’t like people would believe stories of monsters these days. Not to mention, creepy. Which covered way too much of Soul Society; see Kurotsuchi, all of freakin’ Twelfth Division, and even Urahara for goodness’ sake, no wonder Aizen had gotten away with stealing pieces of people’s souls for who knew how many centuries. Hell, Kurotsuchi had gotten away with torturing Quincy souls to destruction, and he was still a captain.

Add another checkmark to “die, head straight for Kuukaku, do not pass Go, do not go to Seireitei”.

And why would shinigami bother wiping their memories now? They knew Ichigo knew about Hollows, and usually they left anyone with him alone, it did less damage that way-

Wait. Wait, cops from Tokyo? Oh, that just froze sweat all down his spine. “There are living cops who can mess with your memories?” Ichigo demanded.

“Living-?” Li cut himself off. “Dr. Ishida’s not happy about that either. If everything goes wrong, if we can’t explain - Ishida knows most of it. Ask him. Tell him I said you could know everything. Tell him... my name is Hei.”

Hei. It tingled, like hearing a zanpakutou’s name for the first time.

Not all of him, but part of him. The dangerous part.

Hideyo grumbled something in his sleep, and Ichigo reached up to shift messy hair just a little farther away from his aches. “Okay, but if Ishida knows you show him those burns, I wasn’t kidding-”

He was alone in the alley.

“...How does he do that?”

Chapter Text

“Head down,” Chief Kirihara Misaki told her youngest detective as the four of them made a speedy exit from that room of horror. “Don’t breathe, wait until we’re out-”

The front door. Air.

Detective Kouno Yutaka dragged in deep gulps of hot afternoon air, hands gripping the sleeves of his leather jacket like that was all between him and losing the greasy fries from lunch. Some of the local Karakura patrolmen had lost their last meal, after they’d found the bodies; and while Chief Kirihara might detest the contamination of the scene, Misaki really couldn’t blame them.

Much.

“Oh man.” Kouno swallowed, running fingers through unruly brown hair. “Oh... whoever did that’s been killing for months, why didn’t Astronomics find the bastard?”

“That’s a good question,” Misaki said briskly. “Right now, we only have two records of star activity in Karakura. The one we picked up about eight months ago, half the town away from here... and the one from two hours ago. Both BK-201.”

“The Reaper-? No.” A wall of suited muscle between them and curious local cops, Saitou Yuusuke shook his head. “No way.”

“No?” Gray and lean, Matsumoto Kunio lounged near to block a few more eyes, regarding his younger colleagues with interest. “He may have saved the Chief’s life, but he is a Contractor.”

“Even Contractors have an MO,” Misaki stated. “The Black Reaper kills quickly. Efficiently.” She took a breath, tasting a hint of lingering death. “When he kills, it’s... clean.”

She was not going to think about gentle, awkward Li, and sad eyes, and the way the Black Reaper had hesitated when she’d told him to stop. Hesitated, and left Hourai alive; the first leader of the Syndicate they had in custody, and hopefully not the last.

She definitely wasn’t going to think about that extremely convenient blackout in a Tong penthouse, when her childhood friend had been about to shoot her.

Why did he do that? His objective was that crystal. He didn’t have to save me. It wasn’t rational.

But he had saved her, and Saitou. Multiple times. As Li, and as the Black Reaper.

Why?

She intended to ask him. Possibly violently. If she could just find him.

“And we know what his kills look like,” Misaki went on, forcing her mind back to the case at hand. “Those black burns- no. BK-201 doesn’t leave traces like that.”

“Mmm.” Matsumoto nodded, glancing back toward the abandoned house. “Now, those Yakuza our local associates hauled to the hospital? Those look like his work.”

“Heh. Yeah.” Saitou grinned sheepishly, scratching at his neck under his gray suit. “I bet they really don’t remember anything.”

“Maybe that last hour,” Kouno grumbled. “Don’t remember this?” He waved a hand at the whole death-house. “I doubt it.”

Misaki kept her face calm and professional. She didn’t know, none of them knew, that those thugs had been in any way responsible for the - so far - at least seven bodies inside. But if they had been....

Section Four was polite, professional, and always worked inside the law. But she doubted she was the only one wishing the Black Reaper hadn’t been so... restrained.

So why was he?

“There’s something odd about this one.” Misaki touched the ear of her glasses, thinking.

Gray brows climbed. “He’s gone silent almost a month,” Matsumoto noted, “so long we thought the Astronomics readings had to be wrong and he was out of Japan. He blew out a window and left us four unconscious Yakuza, but if any of them had been hit with that first spike, we’d have charcoal, not live bodies. The room’s torn up like someone lost a fight with a tornado; something heavy enough that it flattened some of those corpses. I’d say a gravity-warping Contractor but Astronomics swears BK-201 was the only one here. Are we sure they don’t have Syndicate moles inside?”

“Kanami’s doing her best to find out,” Misaki sighed. “She’s already rooted out at least two programs that would have let them access Astronomics data directly. Why risk a mole when a computer can steal it for you?” The window. That was what had been nagging at her. “Let’s look at that garden again.”

It took a little work to get to the inner garden without going through the crime scene again, but it was worth it to see Kouno less green. He whistled at the near-perfect crazed sheet of glass lying across the window-frame, like a carpet of ice leading in. “Oh man. Bet you couldn’t get that more straight with a ruler. I swear, just that, and you know it’s got to be him.”

“But why choose this entry point?” Misaki wondered. “There are windows on the second floor, and he makes entry from above more often than not. Though sometimes he’s come right through the front door. We’ve all seen him fight; he’d rather have a clear floor, not one covered in... obstructions. To get through this window he had to get over a roof, to the glass unseen, and take the time to plant charges. Leaving obvious traces that this was more than an ordinary break-and-enter. So why come in here?”

“Because everybody thought it was bulletproof?” Saitou guessed. “So they didn’t worry about it.”

“Possible,” Misaki allowed, watching the coroner’s unit move inside. “Even likely. We know he likes the advantage of surprise.”

“It could be that whatever he was after was in there,” Matsumoto noted. “If he knew he was going to use his Contract, it might be worth spending more time to get in, if he could get out fast.”

Kouno squinted; studying her, not the room of death. “Only the Chief doesn’t think he did plan to use it. Right?”

Hah. Trust Kouno to put a finger on something she hadn’t been aware she’d decided. “No, I don’t,” Misaki admitted, scanning the abandoned pond garden for any possible missed evidence. Not really expecting to find any; for all Li’s wide-eyed stumbles, BK-201 moved like a ghost. “The smaller spikes after the initial activity are similar to other times we know he’s disrupted witnesses’ memories. We have no record of a spike in BK-201’s star that matches the first one.” Astronomics’ readings on BK-201 during Hell’s Gate had been corrupted, if they’d ever existed. Kanami was definitely looking for a mole, and more malware in the Dolls’ programming. “He’s been so quiet, so long. Something happened. Something that forced him to use his power, and cover up the evidence.” Though disrupting the memories of possible witnesses was the most normal part of all of this. Most assassins would die if they left loose ends still breathing. BK-201 had another option. And had used it. Frequently. Even on her own team.

We’re alive because he wanted us alive, and I want to know why! Damn it, he didn’t even leave us a partial shoeprint in the mud near the... pond.

A pond. A pond in plain view of the window - and a window looked both ways.

Li was always near water. Rivers, rain-puddles, the drinks at a party, washing the dishes-!

“Chief?” Saitou blinked as Misaki balanced on the slippery rocks edging the pool, crouching to look back at the window. “What are you doing?”

“You can see in from here.” Misaki hopped back to dry land before she wobbled too much. “You can’t see the floor, but you could definitely see the Yakuza - and anyone else - from here.”

Matsumoto sucked in a breath, looking from scummy water to shattered glass, and back. “A Doll? We know the Syndicate had them, but the Reaper worked alone.”

“Do we know that?” Misaki pounced. “The Black Reaper was a rumor. A legend. The assassin who never missed. Who could find anyone, no matter how far they ran. MI6 fielded a Doll-Contractor team for special operations. Why not the Syndicate?”

“We’re not looking for one guy.” Kouno stepped back, raising a faint scent of battered grass. “We’re looking for two.”

“Three,” Matsumoto said firmly. “Someone sniped that Russian Contractor. A Doll programmed for viewing wouldn’t be a marksman as well.”

“Too complicated, from what Kanami tells me about Dolls that Customs has seized,” Misaki agreed. Paused, thinking over every last stray encounter with Li. “...And I think the Doll is a woman. I caught him buying clothes once-” Oh. Oh, damn it. She had not meant to say that.

“You know what BK-201 looks like,” Saitou got out, stunned.

Because her team were detectives, and they could guess well enough the Black Reaper couldn’t buy lingerie wearing a mask. Misaki slid her gaze toward the window again, making sure they were out of earshot from the locals. “Yes.”

Matsumoto raised his eyebrows. Kouno and Saitou glanced at each other. “But,” Kouno protested, “if you know, we could have put out a BOLO weeks ago-!”

“I’m not going to put it in a report,” Misaki said sternly. “We don’t know if Hourai’s testimony is true, and given the names he’s admitted to already, who knows how high up the conspiracy goes. If they want the Reaper back - and based on what Dr. Schroeder said about his power, they’re willing to risk destroying Japan to get him back - then they do not want him in official hands. If they knew we knew what he looked like-” She cut herself off. “I know. None of you have to be at risk.”

“He could make people Contractors.” Matsumoto kept his voice down, but even his steady gaze was uneasy.

“Technically, what Schroeder said was that the anti-Gate molecules were changed in the same way humans become Contractors,” Misaki corrected him. “We don’t know if he could do that to people.” Her heart was beating fast. With good reason. “But I doubt the Syndicate would be willing to bet he can’t.”

“Oh man.” Kouno shoved his hands in his jacket pockets, as if he wanted to be hugging himself but was too manly. “Now I kind of don’t want to catch him. If he got his hands on you - which would be worse? Dead, or....”

Her team shuddered. Misaki couldn’t blame them. She’d cleaned up the carnage from too many people just turned. “We need to talk about that.”

“We do, Chief,” Matsumoto agreed, glancing back through the window-frame at too many potential ears. “But not here.” He frowned. “What’s that uniform doing in there?”

Misaki scanned the room, wary. The middle-aged patrolman wasn’t infringing on the scene, much, but he was definitely there, lingering to talk to each of the coroner’s people in turn. Some of them all but grabbed the patrolman, asking something low and intense; others fidgeted, but apparently asked anyway. Each of them glancing at the shadows, then breathing a sigh of evident relief. “Let’s find out.”

Ichigo gripped the edge of the clinic’s examining table, trying not to flinch. Local anesthetics only did so much. “Ow!”

“Go ahead and swear,” Isshin advised, bright steel diving down at his shoulder again. “This one needs stitches.”

“Like hell I will,” Ichigo griped. “Had worse.”

That won him a minute’s silence, punctuated by more needle-pinches. Ichigo took it, trading eye-rolls with Karin as she put away clinic supplies and he fretted over one jumpy black-haired idiot and his kind-of-family. Hopefully Ryuuken could be serious and cold and ruthlessly logical enough about Uncle Kuno not being moved to make them all stay put until he could get over there.

Because if Hei had the power to purify Hollows, he was going to get attacked by more Hollows. No ifs, ands, or buts. Running off who-knew-where without even basic information on what was going to try to eat him - it’d be a slaughter. It’d get all the team killed.

I’m not going to let that happen.

Hopefully Ryuuken wouldn’t either. Because Ryuuken might not fight anymore, but he was a Quincy. He knew what Hollows did to souls.

Hei’s his patient. And Quincies have pretty good reiatsu-sense. Unlike Dad. Ishida had to know Hei had spiritual power.

Which brought up all kinds of questions Ichigo was going to get answers to, as soon as he could nail Hei’s feet down long enough to talk-

Isshin finished tying off the knots, swabbing with alcohol one more time for luck. And maybe because it stung. “What were you thinking, fighting a Hollow? You know better.”

“I wasn’t fighting a Hollow!” Ichigo grabbed the clean t-shirt Yuzu held out, breathing in the scent of sun-dried cotton to try and calm himself down before he pulled it over his head. Because he hadn’t fought the Hollow, damn it. He’d tried to do the smart thing. Seriously. “I went looking for a missing kid. And then it turned out he was kidnapped. By evil idiots with guns. Which I could handle. And I did. And then the damn Hollow turned up, and I grabbed the kid and ran.”

“Should’ve run faster.” Karin held up his ruined shirt, obviously studying the claw holes. “Oh boy, this must have been fun to explain. What’d you tell the cops? This is a mess. They should have dragged you right down to the station.”

Huh. She had a point. The beat cops had been definitely relieved to see Asao Hideyo back in one piece, but they’d given the blood hard looks. One of the newer patrolmen had started to say something like, you’d better come with us-

And then his older partner had not-so-subtly nudged the rookie. “Kurosaki’s a good kid. I’m sure he’s got an explanation.”

Ichigo’d tried not to drop his jaw. Because sure, he’d been avoiding more fights than last year, but since when was an orange-haired school-skipping delinquent on the cops’ list of good kids?

Maybe Li’s looking innocent is contagious?

“I told them Hideyo hid behind a dumpster and passed out,” Ichigo said now, “and I kind of screwed up crawling back in there ‘cause I was scared, he looked awful. Like heatstroke.”

“Sure, heatstroke.” Washing his hands off, Isshin shrugged expansively. “Why not?”

Ichigo tried not to twitch. Why not? Because you could do things about heatstroke. Get cooled down. Grab ice. Dump water over somebody’s head. Even put them in the hospital, if it was bad enough. Anybody could stop someone from dying of heatstroke, so long as they used their heads and moved.

Regular people can’t stop a Hollow. They don’t even know they’re there. And whose fault is that?

Soul Society. Meaning the captains. And their dad was an ex-captain and didn’t see anything wrong with lying to people about what was out there trying to eat them.

Sometimes Ichigo felt like all the lies in this house would strangle him.

“Not heatstroke,” Karin deadpanned.

“No,” Ichigo grimaced, jarred back to here and now. “He passed out when the Hollow howled. I kind of hope he doesn’t remember anything. The guns were scary enough.”

And now he was the guy lying. To his own family. Even if most of it was just... leaving stuff out. What kind of lowlife did that make him?

Hei - no, Li, better use Li around people - he has to stay out of sight. Doesn’t make lying to the twins right, but... it’s keeping people alive. And the team trusted me. What kind of rat would I be if I told the girls the whole story without their okay?

He’d have to try. It could work. Convince the twins to keep a secret from Goat-Face? Easy. Convince Hei’s team that the girls wouldn’t talk? Definitely not easy.

Maybe if I bring them some of Yuzu’s cooking?

It would work. Because if there was one thing Karin and Yuzu understood, it was sliding under people’s attention. Yuzu’s hair, Karin’s fierce soccer skills; oh yeah, the twins knew all about making sure you didn’t take credit for what you did in a way that upset people’s neat little view of the world. Asao Hideyo was alive. Didn’t matter who had found him. Or how.

...Ichigo was just really, really glad it’d been daylight. Because Hei’s coat was a black that drank the light just like Zangetsu’s, and if he hadn’t been able to see that weird green lining, the neat, clean edges not ragged as wind-

Well. Even then, it’d hurt.

Almost more than it hurt now, feeling his sisters’ stares lock onto him like heat-seeking missiles.

Yuzu swallowed dryly, hands twisting on the bow she was tying on a bento box. “You heard the Hollow?”

Karin’s eyes were sharp enough to cut. “You heard it, and you didn’t pass out.”

Ichigo met black eyes anyway; it was so much easier than looking at Isshin. “Um. Yeah. Didn’t want to say anything until Ishida was sure, didn’t want to get anybody’s hopes up... he says it’s slow, but it looks like it’s working. I can see blurs.” He took a deep breath. “It was just enough to let me dodge the Hollow. Then - I guess someone must’ve been on the job. It went boom.”

Oh he was leaving so much out. And the twins could tell, he knew it from the way Karin’s eyebrow twitched. Hopefully she just thought he was leaving out how scary and dangerous it’d been. Which, fair, he was. Guns and Yakuza and giant Hollow teeth, gah.

That one was way too close.

...Yuzu was frowning at him. Why was Yuzu frowning?

Isshin wasn’t frowning. But his eyes were kind of glittery. “Ryuuken should’ve told you that was no excuse to get mixed up with a Hollow. Why didn’t you call one of your friends? They could have handled it.”

Ichigo squinched his eyes shut, shook his head, and stared at his dad again. Are we even having the same conversation, here? “Um, because there wasn’t time? Kid being carried off by guys with guns. Chad’s not bulletproof, unless he pulls out the armor, and would that even work on Yakuza? I’m not sure I want to see Uryuu’s arrows on living people, and mob thugs are the last guys who should find out about Orihime’s fairies. Maybe Tatsuki could’ve helped, she’s awesome karate girl, sure - but she was halfway across town. And then it was bam, Hollow, claws everywhere.”

Karin nodded thoughtfully. Yuzu scrunched cloth between her fingers again. “But you tried to get away, right? Because... even if you can see blurs like me, I can’t fight Hollows....”

“I know, and I’m not looking for them, I promise,” Ichigo said soberly. “I’ve got a phone, I’ll call Uryuu. He can gripe at me and kill monsters; it’ll make his day. This time it just showed up right on top of me and the kid. I couldn’t run and leave him there.”

“Damn right you’re not looking for them.” Isshin straightened his doctor’s coat with a firm yank. “You’ve been in enough danger for one lifetime.”

Definitely not having the same conversation. Ichigo tried not to growl. “You want a second opinion on Ishida’s second opinion? ‘Cause he’s right. Call and ask him.”

His father’s jaw set, with an anger Ichigo had almost never seen. “Ishida Ryuuken is not part of Soul Society, and you are not hunting Hollows anymore.”

Ichigo’s pulse jumped. “Look, I already said I wasn’t-”

“You’re not trained, no damned unseated shinigami screwed up and left you with an emergency, you are not fighting anymore,” Isshin declared. “Leave it to the professionals.”

For a moment Ichigo couldn’t hear anything. There was too much roaring in his ears. “Did you just say Rukia screwed up?”

Yuzu’s eyes widened as she clutched wrapped cloth. Karin pursed her lips in a soundless whistle, and edged back out of the most likely path of a vicious kick.

“She saved my life. She saved the twins’ lives. She saved your worthless hide,” Ichigo got out, wondering why he hadn’t thrown a punch already. Could you actually be too mad to start a fight? “She did everything she could legally; and when that wasn’t enough, she did what she had to, to make sure people lived. And you’re calling her a screw-up?”

Isshin hesitated, but didn’t step back. “If her captain had been doing his job right, none of this would have happened-”

“How long do you think Aizen would have left me alone?”

Ow. Even Ichigo’s own ears rang from that one.

“I’m not trained,” Ichigo snarled; and he didn’t like this, he hated how his sisters paled, but fury and rage was sweeping through him like Zangetsu’s bankai, and damn but he had a target now. “Well, guess whose fault that is. Who could have told me how to get in and out of Soul Society quietly, so we stood a chance of pulling Rukia out before the execution and not all getting half-killed trying. Who threw me at Aizen with nothing but a couple weeks of Sandal-Hat’s training and a couple months getting taught how to burn up your own soul. Who didn’t tell me ghosts were real, and not human anymore, and get me help to tell the difference before Mom-!”

No. No, he was not going down that road. Not now. Not ever.

Isshin’s jaw worked. “Son, I- Oof!”

Karin pulled her fist out of their father’s solar plexus as Isshin coughed, an angry glint in her eye. “Call Rukia a screw-up, huh? One of the shinigami who’s actually doing her job?”

Ichigo almost pulled up short, no matter how much he had to get out of there. Because Karin shouldn’t have to do that alone-

But she gave him a wink, and visibly wound up for another gut-punch.

...Karin was the best.

I’m gone.

Shunpo would have been nice, but he made it to the front door in seconds flat anyway. Blinding fury tended to do that. And maybe he should find a place to just put his head down and run until sunset sank into full dark, just exhaust all the poison and anger and grief sluicing through him like icy floodwater-

The door opened onto a brunette lady in a blue suit and thin-framed glasses, fist raised to knock hard and stern as a sentencing drum.

Ichigo stared at her, then the three guys past her; older and younger man in suits, one maybe twenties in a more casual leather sport jacket thing, all of whom somehow looked very official. “Um... Dr. Kurosaki’s in the clinic?”

“Actually, we were looking for you.” The lady lowered her hand, reaching into her jacket and coming out with a police ID. “Chief Kirihara Misaki, Section Four. An Officer Nakano from your local station said you might be able to clear up a few details on the Asao Hideyo case?”

Nakano? Who was- oh, that poor guy. Sheesh, if he’d had any idea how nasty all the Arrancar and Vizard and captain throw-downs in Karakura were going to be to people who’d been living nice, sane, ghost-free lives, he’d... well he didn’t know what he would have done, but he’d have tried to do something. How many cops on the force could see spirits these days?

Which was when his brain caught up with his eyes, noting that was Section Four from Tokyo, according to the ID. Oh hell. Innocent, innocent, he had to play - ah, no way he could pull that off. “You’re here about- Are they okay?” Ichigo demanded.

Can’t do innocent. Try teenager worried about idiot good kid. ‘Cause I am, right?

“His mom looked so freaked out,” Ichigo barged on. “And... well, I dunno how to handle that, figured it’d be better just to go home... they are okay, right?”

“They’re fine,” the gray-haired detective reassured him. “Officer Nakano said to pass on that the force is glad you were there.”

O...kay. Weird. “There were a lot of people looking,” Ichigo shrugged, hearing soft steps that had to be Yuzu coming up behind him. “He got found, that’s what matters. What’d you want to know?”

Kirihara hesitated. “It’s just a little background to clarify matters, but technically we should have your guardian present-”

“Dad’s going to be busy,” Yuzu said firmly, inserting herself under Ichigo’s arm to hand him the freshly-rewrapped bento. Heavy; how much had she packed in there? “I think Karin would say he needs a crowbar to pry his foot out of his mouth.” She gave the chief a serious look. “Are you going to arrest my big brother? Because he didn’t do anything wrong.”

“No,” Kirihara said solemnly. “No, he definitely didn’t.”

“Then there’s no problem,” his little sister said confidently. “If you really need an adult, you can call Dr. Ishida. Our families know each other. If you just want to ask questions - dinner’s going to be a little late, we need to talk to Dad, I know Ichigo’s hungry by now, and if you’re like the cops I know, you’ve been too busy chasing bad guys to eat! There’s a good place to grab a snack down the street.”

Misaki neatly slurped her noodles, watching the tired orange-haired teen polish off his own with the efficiency of a patrol officer aware that any lunch break could get cut short by criminal stupidity. Saitou and Kouno were two booths away grabbing their own well-deserved snacks, and Matsumoto was nursing a coffee in the next booth over, making sure they’d have no curious eavesdroppers. Which left her free to compare the youngster to the picture painted by his police files.

Not a delinquent.

Ichigo might look it, between the hair and the tri-colored wristband and the sometimes-rough speech, but... no. Young thugs didn’t head off with the cops like a bunch of detectives simply could not possibly make their day any worse. And they didn’t have little sisters who adored them, the way Yuzu obviously did.

Not an abuse victim, either.

Though the reports of borderline suspicions of child abuse were still in Ichigo’s file, along with various notations of bruises, before the officer assembling the information had added that none of the Kurosaki siblings flinched around their father, along with wry details of Isshin himself being tossed out a second-story window. Official department conclusion: despite the yelling, the alarmed neighbors, and the occasional property damage, the senior Kurosaki simply had an idiosyncratic way of training his son in self-defense.

Very effective self-defense. The Day of the Thug Ambulances was still part of departmental jokes.

Self-defense the Karakura PD was very grateful Kurosaki Ichigo knew, given their suspicions about exactly what had happened today. Which, much to Section Four’s amazement, probably hadn’t involved Contractors at all.

Well. Except one.

I wonder if BK-201 was as surprised as we were?

Ichigo sucked out the last drops of sauce, and put his bowl down. “So what did you want to know?” He shrugged, almost hiding the wince as it pulled at the bandages under his shirt. “What’s Section Four, anyway? Never heard of you before.”

A bright kid, striking with a question right after that apparent offer. And cautious. She’d kind of expected that, given the interesting details on just who’d been involved in the search for Asao Hideyo.

Misaki set her own empty bowl on the table; little Yuzu had been right about cops ending up too busy to eat. “We’re based out of Tokyo, but we can go anywhere in Japan. We investigate a certain specialized subset of crimes. And criminals. That’s why we were talking to your local officers. We thought they’d stumbled into something in our specialty, and they weren’t sure they hadn’t. We had an interesting discussion.”

Very interesting. Because given those of her superiors who hadn’t been locked up were now seriously considering set dates to officially tell the public what was going on, Misaki saw no reason not to start providing other police officers with information relevant to ongoing cases.

Of course it was relevant to the Karakura police force. Given the amount of pure oddness the local detectives had admitted had gone on this past year, they needed the information. If only to rule Contractors out as suspects.

Watching people’s faces as they realized just what Section Four had had to sit on was just an unexpected bonus. Really.

Ichigo eyed her, one hand sneaking toward the back of his neck to flick hairs away from the edge of white tape peeping out under his shirt collar. “That, um... still doesn’t tell me much.”

Very bright kid. “Did you know the Karakura force has a squad something like my section? Only it’s unofficial. It has to be.” Misaki paused, weighing the teen in her gaze. “They call what they’re working on the ghost murders.”

Brown eyes stared at her. Not quite Li’s wide-eyed “who, what, how?” And definitely not the usual teenage, are you kidding?

He knows something.

A lot more than he’d told the cops, Misaki was sure. So how to get him to admit it?

As Yuzu said, he didn’t do anything wrong. And the locals would like to make sure he can keep doing it. Carefully. So... the best weapon is the truth.

“Section Four cases are all related, directly or indirectly, to Hell’s Gate,” Misaki stated. “By definition our crimes are ten years old, or less. Karakura’s ghost murders go back at least to the Meiji era. That’s as far back as the department keeps formal homicide records. They even have a few ancient black-and-white photos of the typical burns.” Deliberately, she let her gaze drift to his bandages.

It took long seconds for Ichigo to blink. “The cops... have photographs. Of burns made by ghosts.”

He definitely knows, Misaki thought. And that was the face of a teenager who didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or find something to punch.

He knew, but he didn’t know the cops knew. He’s been dealing with this alone.

Dealing with murders. As a teenage kid. Alone.

That was going to stop.

“They have hundreds of cases,” Misaki stated, letting him see the cool, professional calm on her face. She’d needed it, faced with all those files. So many of which showed the very same burns she’d seen on bodies today. “You’re young, but I imagine with an adult’s permission you could get a temporary internship to help out at the police station. There couldn’t be any harm in, say, allowing you to help organize and re-file cases over half a century old. Fresh eyes can give an unexpected insight.” She let one hand rest on the edge of the table. “From what they know, there’s no one suspect. It seems to happen in cycles. Someone will die. Sometimes even of natural causes. And then, months or even years later, people connected to that person will start dying, and those burns are left behind. If it keeps on happening, it seems to spread to completely random people in the wrong place at the wrong time. And then it stops. For a while.”

Ichigo swallowed.

“The really frightening thing,” Misaki admitted, “is that some people survive whatever it was that attacked them. But they don’t remember it. They talk about trucks crashing through walls, gas explosions, localized earthquakes; Mafia showing up for prize fights with boxing gloves. Things that anyone can prove did not happen. Yet that’s what they remember.” She couldn’t blame Ichigo for being wary. Hearing how much the Karakura PD already knew about someone using memory manipulation was professionally disturbing. To put it mildly.

How long has the technology existed? How many times has it been stolen? Is it really related to the Gates at all?

“The only thing your officers have to go on is the reports of people who were near a ghost murder, but not directly on the scene,” Misaki went on, “the nightmares of the surviving victims, and a very few people who’ve been willing to admit they sometimes see ghosts. All of them - all of them - say the perpetrators are... ghostly monsters.”

She could see why Karakura PD didn’t talk about it. She didn’t want to believe it herself. Ghosts? Not just ordinary lingering spirits, but monster ghosts that ate people? It wasn’t rational.

But BK-201 had fought something. Something too huge to be human, that hadn’t spiked any star activity, that hadn’t left a body.

Something that Officer Nakano was sure had been there. And wasn’t, now.

Ichigo had nerve. He might have been quivering a little, but he didn’t flinch. “So why are you telling me this?”

“Because Asao Hideyo would have been the next victim,” Misaki said bluntly. “That’s the professional opinion of the officers in charge of that carnage in Boss Yanase’s house. They can’t put it on those thugs’ arrest reports; they’ll have to get them for whatever they can related to the other eight victims. But they know. And they hope this round of deaths has stopped.” She breathed out, and bowed. “They wish they could say this officially, but... thank you.”

Ichigo’s ears went bright red. “I didn’t - I mean, it wasn’t - there were a lot of people looking for the kid, I just got lucky....”

“I doubt it was just luck.” Misaki straightened. “They don’t want to ask you, because they don’t want to put pressure on you; not when they know your own family has been targeted in the past. But I’m a visiting officer. I can be gone in hours. So I’ll ask. Is there anything they can do to stop these murders? Anything at all?”

Ichigo looked away.

Wait, Misaki told herself. This isn’t an interrogation. He knows the risks and we don’t. Wait. He’s a good kid; he wants to talk.

“...I used to be able to stop them.” Ichigo shifted his water glass, traced the faint ring of condensation from summer-thick air. “About six months ago I - got hurt. I can’t anymore.”

Them. Multiple suspects. Just as Karakura PD thought.

And six months ago. She’d be willing to bet that matched, to the date, the time the Karakura PD said everything went crazy. To the point the whole town had been dead to the world for an entire day. “But you went after Hideyo anyway.”

“I thought he was just missing,” Ichigo gritted out. “And then I thought it was just Yakuza, sheesh, I could take them-” He cut himself off, and looked sheepishly at her. “Um. Sorry. Not you, I- Sorry.” He swallowed. “If I’d known it was a Hollow, I’d have called... one of the people who can still deal with them. Which might have been too damn late, but....” He winced. “I got lucky. I should have been dead. Damn near fed me and Hideyo to it, if it hadn’t been for-” He looked away.

Oh.

Misaki let him breathe a moment, hastily revising plans in her head. The scene had been too messy to tell if Hideyo had actually been there. But if he had - if Ichigo had.... “You did get lucky, then.” She took a breath. “Is Li eating all right?”

That earned her a teenage snort. “Are you kidding? People say I eat a lot, I’ve never seen anybody put it away like that. How the heck does he keep that up on part-time pay....”

Jackpot.

And from the way Ichigo blanched, he knew it.

Move fast. “I’m not looking for him,” Misaki stated. “We came to investigate a scene. We did. Obviously, whoever we were looking for had the common sense to leave town after incapacitating several angry Yakuza.”

“...Right,” Ichigo managed. “’Cause that’d be the smart thing. ‘Cause Yakuza.”

“Exactly.” Misaki made herself breathe, forcing down the mix of anger and worry and - she didn’t know what she felt. Outside of like an idiot, for missing that the awkward part-timer was the very same assassin she’d been hunting for months. “I... won’t say I’m happy with him. We have - disagreements. But I would like to talk to him.” With handcuffs - no, stop thinking that. Where are you going to get plastic cuffs that would hold him, anyway? “So you met him in the market?”

“Actually....” Ichigo shifted over to the window, and pointed. “See that new office building going up over there? Week ago, the tenth floor wasn’t finished.”

Misaki looked, and frowned. It still wasn’t quite finished yet. “And...?”

Ichigo shrugged. “That’s where I was.”

Misaki stared at him.

Another shrug; a poor fake of teenage nonchalance. “I was having a really bad day.”

The chief of Section Four considered that, normal teenage rage at the world, and ten floors of empty space. Adding in the fact that Ichigo knew there were murders happening in Karakura. Murders he couldn’t stop anymore. “Do you need to talk?”

“I was up there so I didn’t have to talk,” Ichigo admitted. “And then... well, then this crazy guy pulls himself right up on the girder, bare-handed, and says it’s a great view, but this doesn’t look good from the ground.” Orange hair ducked, sheepish. “Then he asked me if I wanted to go grab something to eat.”

Misaki blinked. Lifted her glasses to rub her eyebrows, and blinked again. “He... what?”

Because that didn’t make sense. BK-201 was a Contractor, and he definitely had the skills to free-climb a building. But a Contractor wouldn’t care.

Li would care. Clumsy, gentle, stumbling-over-his-own-tongue Li would definitely care, and want to do something, and feed a stressed-out teenage punk. He’d picked up the tab for a down on his luck PI and his pink-haired secretary, why not a teen ghost-hunter? But Li was an act. Because BK-201 was a Contractor.

Except it couldn’t all be an act, because BK-201 had apparently deliberately, noticeably gone out of his way to make sure a potentially suicidal kid didn’t fall off a building. And then joined the search for another kid a week later, much to the great displeasure, broken bones, and multiple bruises of the Yakuza unfortunate enough to have kidnapped Hideyo in the first place... which really did seem like Li, if Li stood any chance of fighting his way out of a paper bag, which she’d always sworn he couldn’t, not when he’d almost managed to knock himself out just swinging a baseball bat, and....

Gripping the edge of her seat, Misaki started banging her head on the table.

“Oh.” Ichigo sounded unimpressed, and maybe slightly gleeful. “You do know the guy.”

“Aaaaugh.” Misaki let out a steam-kettle of a breath, straightening up. Because fine, Ichigo had every right to be amused, if she looked at it from a distance it was funny. But it was also very, very dangerous. “Kurosaki. I know he can seem kind. But I’ve dealt with him under different circumstances and it’s an act-”

She had to stop. Because Ichigo wasn’t laughing. He looked... almost sad. Like one of her own detectives, called to yet another scene. “Yeah, I know,” Ichigo admitted. “Kind of figured it out the first time he blinked at someone. You know the one I’m talking about? Skinny black kitten who hopes you’ve got fish, or at least good scritching fingers?”

Oh brother. Did she ever.

“And then I figured it out more when he warned me to be careful, ‘cause he kind of had both sides of the law after him. Because he stopped an explosion.”

Reluctantly, Misaki nodded. “That wasn’t a lie.” And why wasn’t it? BK-201 was a Contractor. There was no rational reason to tell Ichigo anything. So why had he told the truth?

“And, um, I really figured it out when he made sure we stopped and had a plan before we went into that house.” Ichigo shifted in his chair, uncomfortable. “I’m kind of not sure I should say what he pulled out for that, because there’s no way some of that was legal. But what we smelled from the roof - I just didn’t care, okay? There was a kid and guns and dead bodies and there was no way anybody else was going to get there fast enough.”

“I believe you,” Misaki said quietly. Because she did. And if Ichigo had been hunting invisible monsters... belief had probably been hard to come by.

“So yeah. Some of it’s an act,” Ichigo finished. “But that doesn’t make it not real.”

She hated to do this. “Ichigo. If he had a rational reason to kill you-”

Ichigo blew out a frustrated breath. “Ah, the hell with it. He knew you were coming.”

That stopped her. “I don’t understand?”

The look Ichigo bent on her could have melted steel. “We were going to die. Me and Hideyo. The Hollow had us. He could have gotten away while it ate us. He didn’t.” The teen paused. “He knew what he did was going to send up a flare. And he killed it anyway.”

How much did Ichigo see? Misaki wondered. How much danger is he in? “That must have been a shock.”

“Eh. More like static.” Ichigo brushed at his hair, as if he could feel it now. “But he made sure we got loose before he really hit it.”

He knows. And BK-201 didn’t wipe his memory like he did the Yakuza.

“But then, once you see Hollows spit leeches that blow up, not much surprises you anymore,” Ichigo reflected.

...What.

“No, not kidding.” Ichigo touched the cloth bow on the bento beside him, as if that bit of home grounded him. “A lot of them are just strong, fast, and invisible. Some are smart. This one was.” He looked her straight in the eye. “Look, I don’t know everything Li’s done, and I don’t know if you’ve got a reason for a grudge. But I’ve met full-out sociopaths. And I’ve met pretty decent people who just have a really lousy job. Li had a job. He quit.”

She... couldn’t really argue that last point. Taking down Hourai and leaving him for Section Four - he hadn’t needed to do that, just to run. It wasn’t rational.

But BK-201 is a Contractor-

Her phone buzzed.

“Excuse me.” Misaki checked the ID. Astronomics again? “Kirihara.”

“Misaki. Hey.” Kanami breathed a sigh of relief. “Um... do you think you’ll be done poking around over there soon?”

“We’re mostly finished here,” Misaki admitted. “Why?”

“Good! I mean, that’s....” The Astronomics researcher cleared her throat. “Okay. Since it’s you... Karakura’s kind of hard to scan after dark? I mean, we can set the programs for the Dolls to do it, but they’re jumpy. They try to do the routes really fast.” She paused. “I know it’s supposed to be impossible, but... it’s almost like they’re scared of the place.”

Misaki eyed her phone. Turned a thoughtful gaze on the teenager across the table. A teen who could see monsters. Who trusted Li. Who needed help. “Kanami.”

“Yeah?”

“Star activity can be detected half a horizon away, correct?”

“Yes...?”

“But precise location requires the network to be active.”

“Right.”

“What would it take to remove a certain area from the usual scan routes?”

“...Why?”

“Not on the phone,” Misaki said bluntly. “Can you?”

“Tokyo, not a chance,” Kanami shot back. “But if you’re asking for someplace else....”

A few more exchanges, and she had her answer. Misaki ended the call, scratching down a few sentences on the back of one of her cards, and shrugged at Ichigo. “I should arrest him. But I want his testimony. And if I took him into custody - assuming I was able to take him - he’d be dead in twenty-four hours.”

Ichigo’s face went through an odd variety of expressions, settling on bemused.

Misaki narrowed her eyes. That’s, “I don’t think you can catch him, and if you did there’d be a lot of dead bodies and a broken-out window, and if that didn’t happen....” “Kurosaki. You’re a minor. Don’t even think about getting involved in illegal activities.” Like conspiring in a possible jailbreak.

“No, ma’am. Chief.”

Translated from teenager-ese, that meant the thinking had already been over and done, and Kurosaki had jumped in with both feet.

Do not strangle the witness. Do not strangle the annoying, ghost-hunting, Contractor-trusting witness, Misaki told herself firmly. “I’m beginning to think the two of you deserve each other.” She handed over her card. “I hope you call someone before you get into more trouble.”

“Got it, Chief.” The nod was sober. Straightforward. Completely serious. “I’ll call someone.”

...Teenagers.

Trees weren’t as easy to perch in for a quick exit as window ledges. But they usually had the advantage of concealment. Unless there was a flutter of movement, most people didn’t look up into trees.

Although sometimes it was difficult to suppress that urge to move, because ants. Granted Japanese ants weren’t half as dangerous as those Hei had met in Brazil, lacking the nasty habits of blindingly painful stings, jaws you had to pry loose with steel, or blowing themselves up.

Still. Ants.

He held himself still and waited, watching over one of the scattered picnic tables on the grounds of Karakura General. Yin was leaning on Huang as he sat across from Dr. Ishida, to casual eyes going over the ex-cop’s medical file in a more relaxed setting than the doctor’s office. Mao was skulking in the shadows out of sight, another set of eyes in case Hei missed a watcher. And none of them were running.

This is dangerous.

They should be moving. It’d be rational to move; to leave Huang behind if they had to, but go. Enough time had passed that most of the Syndicate should assume they were already clear of the area, especially with Section Four obviously investigating. They should move. Now.

I don’t want to.

He didn’t want to leave Huang; not when the ex-cop had seen something in his burn and his after-action report that made Huang forget the ex, quizzing Ishida on Hollows and victims and old case-files from Tokyo. He didn’t want to take Yin away from someone who was helping her. He didn’t want to walk away from people who finally knew something about what had happened to them all.

He’d spent five years not knowing about Bai, and it had nearly destroyed him.

I don’t want to be that way again. Ever.

Which was part of why his nerves were screaming at him to leave, he knew it. Karakura... the town had been a gentle place. Restful. Long and odd hours, sure, but he hadn’t had to kill anyone for two weeks. It’d been like enforced medical leave-

Vacation. Normal people call that a vacation, Hei reminded himself.

-And if he was on leave that meant he was not operationally ready, which meant sitting duck. Astronomics knew he’d been here, and that meant the Syndicate would know. Bribery, a mole, someone’s life threatened; they’d find out, one way or another. All the Syndicate would have to do was drop rumors with his description. Contractors would come after him just for the mere threat that he existed, that he’d apparently helped the cops, that he might come after them-

Hei held his breath for a count of five, and let it slowly out. And again. Panic is not rational.

Of course it wasn’t, it was a brain-body response to stress, and even Contractors had both of those....

Ishida says I’m not a Contractor. That my soul is damaged, but not the same way.

Hard to believe. For five years, he’d been so sure. What else could he be?

What else can I be now?

He didn’t know. Five years he’d looked for Bai, and now he knew she was gone. It hurt. And left him adrift, like a kite with a broken string. He had no idea when he’d crash.

Can’t crash. Team’s depending on me. Ichigo needs answers... there he is.

Walking alone, with a fairly hefty bento, and a mix of tired trudge and impatient bounce that meant- oh, not good.

Hei slipped out of the tree in time for Ichigo to glance his direction, and suppressed a twitch of a smirk as the teenager jumped. “You were in a fight?”

“Ah. Yeah. Kind of, nobody’s bleeding, my dad is an idiot, what else is new?” Ichigo shrugged, shoulders hunched, and set the bento on the table. “Um, Dr. Ishida? I’m pretty sure where Sandal-Hat probably is, but I’d never see Yoruichi coming. And, well, if she saw these guys... I mean, the first time I saw this guy move,” Ichigo jerked a thumb Hei’s way, “I thought Onmitsukidou, and that would just be all kinds of messy.”

Hei tried to parse that word, and wondered if Karakura had its own dialect. “Demon arts ninja?”

From Huang’s dubious look, no he had heard that right. Weird.

“Close enough,” Ryuuken observed. “She’s stealthy, but as I understand it she’s a captain now. Those limiters have their own signature. I should be able to warn you.”

“Who’s Yoruichi?” Huang pounced. “An’ what’s she a captain of?”

“Um. Captain is... kind of complicated, and you have to hear a long story for it to make sense,” Ichigo shrugged. “But if you see a black cat acting way too interested in overhearing you, and then suspiciously catlike? It’s not a cat.” He scowled. “Not a guy, either, no matter what she sounds like.”

Hei kept a deliberately neutral face as Mao slunk out from under the table, leapt up to tap the bento with one paw, then leaned over to sniff it.

“Well.” Mao sat back on his haunches, giving Ichigo a blink of violet eyes. “That explains a lot.”

Not going to laugh, Hei told himself firmly.

It was a test of will, as Ichigo stared down a grinning black cat. Then, quietly, clapped a hand to his face.

Yin’s giggle didn’t sound quite right, for a girl her age. But she was trying.

Ichigo didn’t lift his hand, speaking through his fingers. “If you turn into a naked person when there are perfectly good clothes available, I will punch you right in the whiskers.”

“You’d hurt a poor defenseless kitty?” Mao was chuckling, tail-tip one quick twitch. “You monster.”

Ichigo snorted at defenseless. “I’m not kidding. You want clothes, we’ll get them. I have seen enough naked.”

“Yes,” Hei agreed, heartfelt. “Why can’t more teleporters take their clothes?”

“Teleporters?” Ichigo finally lifted his hand, looking at all of them. “Is that what Section Four investigates? The chief never did say it straight out. ‘Specific subset of crimes related to the Gate’. Hell’s Gate is walled off, how can she be chasing crimes about it all over Japan?” The teen took a breath. “Unless... there’s more people like you out there?”

Yes. And no. “You met Chief Kirihara?” Hei asked cautiously. “And... there aren’t any gaps?”

“Yeah, I did, they rescued me from the awkward that was family, appreciated that,” Ichigo shrugged. “And no, they didn’t mess with my head. She said the mess in Boss Yanase’s house looked like one of their crimes, but after her detectives got together with Karakura PD they decided it was one of ours.” He paused. “And then she said our local PD thinks ghosts are murdering people. Did everybody in Karakura know about that but me?”

Hei weighed the startled look on Ishida’s face. “You didn’t.”

“I had no idea anyone official knew,” the doctor admitted. “There aren’t that many spiritually sensitive people in Karakura. Even now, the whole force only has a few officers that can even sense ghosts. None of them have enough power to see Hollows... or so I thought.”

“What’s seeing got to do with it?” Huang snorted. “Cops tend to notice when people turn up dead with weird symptoms. Even if somebody is screwing with the witnesses.” He leaned on the table a little. “I sure did.”

Mao’s tail curled around his paws. “But your memory of your partner’s death was never removed.”

“Wasn’t talking about Isozaki, fishbreath.” Huang gave the cat a baleful glance. “There were other cases. Other people that turned up dead for no good reason, with those burns on ‘em. Not a lot, not like here - but Tokyo’s a big place. Figures we’d have enough ghosts for a few to go rotten.” He eyed Ichigo. “Never knew what it could be. And your cops have a whole squad for ‘em?”

“The chief said it wasn’t official. That there wasn’t much they could do. But they know there are monsters, they figured out how Hollows start with family and work out - they know this.” Ichigo’s knuckles paled. “Doc... what can we do? That won’t get people landing on the cops? She thanked me, and even if I can almost see ‘em again my powers are still gone, can’t even really do anything except dodge a Hollow anymore, it’s not right....”

Powers? Hei drew closer, intent. What?

Ichigo started. “And how come when I say Hollow, none of you even ask? Is it- are you-?” He cut himself off. “I mean... is it okay if I ask why Dr. Ishida’s treating you? You kind of know part of my deal already....”

“You hunted Hollows,” Hei stated, putting facts and dropped words and Ishida’s odd comment on starvation together. “You were trained to hunt spiritual monsters. But you lost your powers.”

“Not lost. Burned them out,” Ichigo got out. “Had to. Was the only way to take down Aizen... he was crazy. Not blood-crazy, like Kenpachi. Weird and twisted up in the head. Like he deserved to be god, and he didn’t care how many people he used up to get there.” The teenager swallowed. “I knew it was going to hurt. I didn’t know... I’d just keep bleeding.” He shrugged, shoulders tight. “Ishida - the doc figured out that if souls get stronger in danger, maybe that’s what I needed to get better. Just a little danger. It’s helping. I didn’t see the Hollow all the way, but I saw it.”

“So did I,” Hei admitted, thinking of that misty flex of claws and scales. “Even for a Yakuza, that was horrible.”

“No kidding. That ever happens to me, I want a shinigami with a konso, damn it.” Ichigo ran nervous fingers through his hair. “Which... means you see them too, man, I figured... the doc’s not just treating you guys for holes, is he? ‘Cause if you just needed a doctor, they’re all over the place, you wouldn’t be here.”

“In fact, they were here for the holes,” Ishida said dryly. “I stumbled on the fact they needed to be patients when they broke into their partner’s hospital room.”

“...Oh.”

Disappointment, in that tired slump. Hei glanced at Yin and Mao.

“Eh, why not.” Mao flicked his whiskers. “Fair’s fair.”

Yin nodded.

Hei straightened. “If I understand Dr. Ishida correctly? Spiritual disassociation, empathic amputation, and long-term possession.”

Ichigo’s mouth dropped open. “...What.”

“Um, not all at once,” Hei assured him. “One for each of us?” He tilted his head toward Huang. “Oh, and bullet holes.”

“Should have ducked,” Mao observed.

Huang folded his arms, giving the cat an up and down look. “Lucky they didn’t snipe you, furball. There wouldn’t have been enough left for mittens.”

Mao hmphed. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you fur is murder?”

Yin threaded her fingers through black fuzz. “Mao. You’re an obligate carnivore. And you bring me mice.”

“Well, yes. But I’m a cat.” Mao sniffed. “You still human-shaped humans are supposed to get bent out of shape about things like that. Why, I have no idea.”

Ichigo closed his mouth, and looked at Ishida. “Do they do this a lot?”

“I find their company refreshing, in small doses,” the doctor admitted. “Although in Hei’s case it’s actually two injuries. The possession was the most serious, but he did suffer some damage to his empathy as well. At the moment I don’t have enough information to determine if that’s a normal consequence of the type of power he possesses, or a result of the possession. It could well be both.”

“Type of-” Ichigo sucked in a breath. “There are more guys like you. That’s what Section Four’s after?”

“It’s - complicated,” Hei admitted. “And I don’t know how much time we have to explain-”

“A lot more than you think.” With the air of a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat, Ichigo handed over one of Misaki’s cards.

Can’t put you in protective custody, the back read. 5 km radius of Karakura, Astronomics will not track. Have fun hunting monsters.

Hei stared. Reread the card. The characters didn’t change.

“The heck-?” Huang craned his head over to read it upside-down, and snorted. “Always knew Kirihara’s kid was smarter than he was.”

“Oh?” Mao stepped over to squint at inked lines, and snickered. “I don’t believe this. Does she think she can put you on parole?”

“Doesn’t matter what she thinks, if she holds up her end,” Huang declared. “Now are you going to sit down, or do we just toss the kid the basics while you run off your nerves?”

Hei gave him a flat look. “Nerves aren’t rational.”

“You ain’t rational. Which shoulda clued me in way back.” Turning his back on the card, Huang nodded at Ichigo. “You know what people say about the Gates, right? The facts, not the crazy cults and rumors. They showed up, a lot of people died, they’re walled off and we still don’t know what’s up with them. What you don’t know is what’s been happening to people all over the world ever since the Gates crashed in on us. It’s nasty.”

“And by nasty Huang means incredibly awkward to those affected and the indirect cause of multiple homicides otherwise,” Mao put in. “Not to mention almost the direct cause of mass murder two weeks ago... but you’d better have things in order, it will make slightly more sense.” He tilted his head at Huang, ears perked.

Huang jerked a thumb skyward. “See the stars up there? The Messier objects, you want to get technical. Well, each one a’ those is linked to somebody the Gates bit. Or at least half of ‘em,” he reflected, “never was sure if Dolls were tied to stars or not.”

“One was,” Hei said quietly, thinking of Canon, Klang, and Musik, and three falling stars. “But she was tied to a Contractor, too. So I don’t know.”

“The Gates bit them?” Ichigo gave Ishida a sharp look.

“I don’t currently have a better explanation,” the doctor noted. “The phenomena are associated. The details of how and why are sketchy.” He touched his glasses. “Most of those who’ve done actual research on affected people are either secret government agencies, or the underworld.”

“...I’m starting to not like this,” Ichigo muttered. “These... phenomena being Dolls, and Contractors? Weird names.”

“Smart kid,” Huang said dryly. “And, not so weird when you know.” He rolled his shoulders under his vest. “Now, some ways, Dolls are harder on them and easier on everybody else. The stuff that makes ‘em a person - feelings, personality, even knowing what you want for breakfast - it gets squashed. All a Doll’s left with is memories, buried down deep, and their specters.”

“Specters?” Ichigo frowned. “Not ghosts.”

“Remember the ghost lights on the power lines?” Ishida asked. “Those are specters sent out by Astronomics, working with Section Four. Looking for anyone who could see them.” He let out the slightest breath of relief. “Whatever you said to Chief Kirihara, you may have saved all of us considerable trouble with the authorities.”

“Because anybody sensitive could see them... damn, no wonder she said she thought this was one of their cases. Ghost lights and lookouts,” Ichigo said, half to himself, and looked straight at Yin. “That was you, right? That glow over the pond.”

Yin bent her head. “Most Dolls... without programming, they’re helpless. Locked inside. My team helped me get better. Dr. Ishida’s helping, too.”

“You let us get there in time.” Ichigo gave her a fierce grin. “That was awesome.”

A hint of pink touched Yin’s cheeks. “I... like to help? We’re partners.”

“We are,” Hei affirmed. “Good ones.”

“And you’re... allied.” She sat up straight, violet eyes tracing where Ichigo was. “I’m Yin. This is Mao. He’s Huang.”

“Ichigo. Thanks.” Ichigo blinked, a little dazed, then looked at Hei and Mao. “I’m going to guess that makes you two Contractors. What’s that?”

“Very, very nasty,” Mao said cheerfully. “I’m not sure what caused it. I’m not sure any Contractor ever is. Although we do all seem to have some kind of massive trauma hit us weeks, even months before it happened. Mostly violent trauma, but not always; I researched one Russian Contractor whose trigger seemed to be the accidental death of her child.” A furred shrug. “One day - night, whenever - there’s just a shock. And part of you, the part that cared and laughed and hated people and wanted to be with them forever... it’s gone.” Fur trembled. “And in its place there’s a star in the sky, a power that wants to be used, and a price you have to pay for it. The Contract, and the Remuneration.”

“Empathic amputation.” Ichigo swallowed hard. “It sounds almost like....”

“A soul becoming a Hollow?” Ishida finished. “As far as I can tell, it is. There’s severe damage to the plate connecting the soul chain; the metaphysical heart of every emotional tie we have to other human beings. Yet they still have physical bodies. I believe that allows them to maintain rational thought, where a Hollow would be raw spiritual hunger. Dolls and Contractors are the closest beings I’ve seen to living Arrancar.”

Hei tensed. Ishida had used that word before, but he’d been too focused on Yin and Ichigo’s background-of-holes father to ask. What?

Mao slid a glance his way, then stalked closer to the doctor. “You told us what Hollows are; spirits who by obsession or attack lost their hearts, and now try to eat anyone they can get their claws on. But what are Arrancar?”

“Majorly strong Hollows - Adjuchas-level or more - who rip their masks off and get more powerful,” Ichigo rattled off, quick as Hei could run down caliber differences. “They look a lot more human, and they are damn dangerous. Aren’t many of ‘em. Thankfully. About a dozen of them just about took Karakura apart, even with everybody fighting them.” He stared at all of them. “You guys aren’t anything like Arrancar, though... well, maybe like Nel. Kind of.”

“Nel?” Ishida beat them all to the question. “Who was Nel?”

“Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck,” Ichigo shrugged. “She didn’t want to fight anymore. She was strong enough she could just hang out in Hueco Mundo and live on the reishi in the air. She didn’t need to hunt humans. So she just didn’t. All she wanted was to live with her Fracciones, have fun playing tag, stay away from shinigami. Then Aizen had to screw with everybody.” He waved a hand; what can you do about homicidal idiots. “She saved our lives a couple times. She was... nice. Dangerous as heck, she was an Espada, but if Aizen had just left her alone she would have kept her Fracciones safe and stayed out of it. He didn’t, we needed help, she helped us.” Ichigo hugged himself, as if the summer night had suddenly been invaded by a winter breeze. “I hope she’s okay.”

Ishida, Hei noted, looked as if someone had bashed him on the head with a lead-cored newspaper. “Are you saying an Arrancar can have feelings for other Hollows?”

“For other people? Yeah.” Ichigo didn’t even blink. “I mean, it sounded like it took her a while to get there, first other Hollows were just kind of handy, but - yeah. Hallibel was like that, too; wouldn’t fight unless she got orders, or her Fracciones were in danger. Starrk joined up with the other Espada so he wouldn’t be alone. Grimmjow was a nasty bloodthirsty punk, but he didn’t want to fight anybody unless it was fair.” He scowled. “The others were kind of assholes, though. And don’t get me started on Szayel.”

“...I need to sit down,” Ishida said faintly.

Huang made room for the doctor to collapse onto a bench, trading glances with the rest of his team. “So. Kurosaki. How come you know this, and the doc didn’t?”

“Part of that long story,” Ichigo admitted. “I’ve been to Hueco Mundo. The other dimension Hollows are in when they’re not here. One of my friends got kidnapped, so - I spent a while there, looking for her.” He gave them a crooked smile. “It’s full of Hollows. What kind of crazy maniac would go there and talk to the monsters, right? And if the only Hollows you ever meet are the ones coming here to eat people....”

“Yes,” Ishida agreed, still dazed. “I need a moment. If Hollows can recover their ability to connect to other beings, to even have nonhostile interactions with humans....” His voice died.

“It changes everything,” Hei said quietly, feeling that wince in his own soul. “Because then you have to think. As long as they’re all monsters, everything’s easy. Fight and survive. Nothing else matters. But if they’re not? If some of them might not want to fight, if you could just talk? It breaks... everything.” He had to look away. “Why didn’t they just tell me?”

“Ah.” Mao’s voice was very dry. “Haven’t you figured that out? If your files are accurate, you were Bai’s bodyguard. And Amber’s, half the time. It wouldn’t be rational for those two to tell you Contractors could feel. The Black Reaper might hesitate.”

“Cat,” Huang warned.

“No. It makes sense,” Hei admitted. “Bai didn’t trust anyone else to watch over her.”

“Wait a minute,” Ichigo was muttering, elbows propped on the table. “Wait, just - no, this makes no sense. If you’re a Contractor why would anyone have to tell you, and-” He choked. Eyed Ryuuken. “Long-term possession.”

“I don’t know all the details,” the doctor stated. “And what I do know, I will not mention without explicit permission.”

Ichigo swallowed, looking at Hei. “It’s bad?”

What do I tell him? What should I tell him?

...I don’t want to lie.

“Yes,” Hei admitted. “It’s bad.”

“My Messier code is BK-201.” Hei pointed up and slightly north, face cold as it’d been hunting the Yakuza. “That one.”

Ichigo craned his head back enough to see the first glimmer through sunset, mind racing. What was it like to feel a star? Or, well, something that at least looked like one.

“If you hear it mentioned by someone besides Section Four, run,” Hei advised. “The people who know that code know it’s one of the early Contractors; the star appeared less than two weeks after the Gates. Ten years of experience means a very dangerous power, or a skilled survivor. Usually both.” He took a breath. “But I’ve only been BK-201 for five years.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Ichigo watched Mao sit in carefully casual feline attention. Kirsi - Yin - was close to Hei, but not quite touching him. And Huang had that listening air Ichigo’d seen doctors pull out when a patient needed to talk to get at symptoms. So they hadn’t heard this story either.

“Ten years ago I was Li Tian,” Hei said simply. “I had a little sister. Xing.”

Fact. No emotion. Which matched stuff Ichigo’d seen Rukia and Toushirou and Byakuya pull, shutting everything down so they could get through the next minutes and survive-

What the hell. “Li Tian is your real name?”

“Why not? It’s the name the Syndicate won’t look for.” Not a smile. “They declared us dead ten years ago. There are a million Li’s in China.”

Declared us dead. No, that wasn’t ominous. “Okay?” Ichigo tried. Because Hei’d said he had a sister, not that he had one now, and possession - he had to be wrong, right? He really hoped he was wrong.

“Xing was the first BK-201.” Blue eyes were flat. Dead. “When it happened, I pulled us out before the police got there.”

Mao frizzed, tail one thick poof of black. Yin looked down. Ryuuken and Huang... winced.

Ichigo weighed that, and what they’d told him, and tried not to swallow too obviously. Hei’s little sister had become a living Arrancar. Which was all well and fine to think about from the comfort of having spiritual powers and a sharp zanpakutou, but as a powerless human? The hairs on Ichigo’s neck were trying to crawl away.

And that wasn’t even because of the cops, man, meeting China’s equivalent of Section Four just sounded scary as all heck-

One of the first Contractors. Nothing like Section Four would have even existed.

Oh my god he saved their lives.

Because a Hollow could just pop back to Hueco Mundo when the odds got too great, but something with a physical body couldn’t. Guys like Karakura cops versus a trapped Hollow? It’d have been a slaughter, if Hei hadn’t-

Then the words hit, and Ichigo froze.

I pulled us out.

Like it’d been another mission. When Ichigo knew Hollows. Knew how they fought, what they wanted, how they hungered. He’d gone to the Vizards and demanded help not so much for himself, though he’d been terrified, but for his sisters.

A Hollow’s first target was family.

His sister became a Contractor, and she killed - god, who knows. Their parents? Anyone else there? The whole damn neighborhood? Hei can do lightning bolts; a Hollow with that power wouldn’t have held back. And Hei - Tian - he picked up the thing that killed their parents and ran....

And the worst of it was Ichigo couldn’t blame Hei at all. If Karin had changed one day, and he hadn’t know about Hollows... oh hell, even now, knowing all he knew, he’d have done the exact same thing. Because Karin was his sister. And big brothers protected their little sisters. Always.

Only he’d have tied her up and run straight to Urahara. Because if anyone on the face of the planet could fix a mess like that, Sandal-Hat would.

Tian hadn’t had an exiled shinigami to run to. Just his own wits, and barely-teenage guts. Against a living monster.

Wait. That doesn’t make sense. “How are you alive?” Ichigo demanded.

“All Contracts have their price,” Hei shrugged. “She needed to sleep. I watched over her. She knew I would.”

Chalk one up for Ryuuken, Ichigo thought, trying to ignore his goose-bumps. Living Arrancar was right. A Hollow wouldn’t have been able to think that far ahead.

“The Syndicate found us a few months later.”

“A few months?” Mao’s ears went up. “How did you keep the body count that low?”

“Arguing. Rationally.” Hei didn’t blink. “I told her, leaving bodies in the street made it harder to keep her safe.” A breath. “The Syndicate wanted to wipe my memory and take her. Xing didn’t believe them. She wouldn’t go without me.”

“Mmm. Lucky for you,” Mao mused. “Memory modification wasn’t good enough to cover months; not then. They’d have left you dead in a ditch.”

Hei nodded once. As if he’d expected as much. “She was Bai; I was Hei. They trained us as a team. I cleared the way; kept her safe after she used her Contract. We had missions... and then there was Heaven’s War.”

“The acts of terrorism in Brazil?” Ryuuken asked, very quietly.

“Every government wanted the Gate,” Hei stated. “The Syndicate had another plan. Amber - one of our team - found out about it, and made her own plan with Bai. I didn’t know. All I remember is light, and pain.” A breath. “I woke up... I don’t know how much later. Bai was gone. Everyone was gone. Only BK-201’s star said Bai was right there. The Syndicate interrogators wanted answers.” Hei blinked. “I killed at least a dozen of them, before I knew what I was doing.”

Another shiver crawled down Ichigo’s spine. To go from human to waking up with that kind of power at your fingertips, and no warning?

“Given the circumstances?” Ryuuken’s glasses shone. “I would call that incredibly rational.”

“It got them to stop,” Hei agreed. “And the activity pattern - they didn’t believe me, but they had to believe that. Bai was gone. I was BK-201. Only-” He cut himself off.

“Only she wasn’t gone,” Ichigo finished, stomach sinking. “Dead. Not gone. She- are you okay? No, forget it, stupid question....”

“She left me two weeks ago,” Hei stated. “In Hell’s Gate. The Syndicate planned to do what they’d tried in Brazil: destroy the Gate, kill every Doll and Contractor with it. Amber tried to repeat her plan; use Bai’s power to warp reality so no one could get near the Gate again.”

“Calculating the same radius as Brazil, Japan would have been obliterated,” Mao observed.

“Anyone who wasn’t a Contractor would have died,” Hei said quietly. “But I’m not Bai. The Syndicate needed special particles to destroy the Gate. I... changed them. It’s safe now. At least until another eclipse.”

“Ten years if we’re lucky,” Huang grumbled. “Five if we’re not. You need to stay alive, kid.”

“I’ll try.” Hei met Ichigo’s gaze. “You asked what I am. I don’t know.”

“You don’t? But-” Ichigo shot a look at Ryuuken. Because of course. No wonder the Quincy doctor had tried to throw them together. It made sense. Ichigo had lost his powers, just like Isshin had. But he wasn’t just a shinigami. And if a shinigami like Isshin needed a shinigami’s reiatsu to recover, then- “You didn’t tell them about Arrancar. Did you tell them about Vizards?”

“I know less about Vizards than I do Arrancar,” the doctor said plainly. “In this area, you are the expert.”

Ichigo swallowed, mouth dry. “A Vizard... is what happens when a shinigami gains Hollow powers,” he explained, to way too many intent eyes. “Kind of the inverse of an Arrancar. It messes you up real bad inside. But if you can beat it down, get it to come to terms with you... then you’ve got both sides to draw on.” He drew himself up straight. “A year ago, a Hollow attacked my house. The shinigami fighting it, Rukia - she was hurt. She let me borrow her powers. And then things got... complicated.” He brushed back his hair, and gave the team a shrug, trying to lock down all the fear and hurt and loneliness. “Substitute shinigami and Vizard, Kurosaki Ichigo, kind of attached to the Thirteenth Division of the Gotei Thirteen; the shinigami who’re supposed to keep all the Hollows from eating souls. Karakura used to be my patrol. Only... I can’t anymore. Until - if - I ever get my own powers back.”

“When,” Ryuuken said, in a doctor’s tone of, I will hear no more of this nonsense. “You’re showing marked improvement already. Given that’s happening now, when it hasn’t for all the months you’ve been in Isshin’s house under the cloak of his reiatsu, I would say your Vizard status has been a complicating factor. You need exposure to shinigami and Hollow energies - and Isshin has been extremely careful to ward any more Hollows out of the clinic.”

Ichigo tried not to bristle. “Well, yeah, he should, my sisters-”

“Your sisters,” Ryuuken cut him off. “Precisely. Your father will go to great lengths to protect your sisters. Even at your expense.” His mouth was a thin line, as he turned to Hei. “I can’t say it’s an exact correlation, any more than Contractors are exactly Arrancars. But from what I can read of your energies, even with the damage you’ve taken, your soul would most likely have become a shinigami after death. Not a Hollow. You have the Contract; you also have your own spiritual powers. You are the closest person I’ve found to another Vizard, and since they’ve all absconded to Soul Society there has been no one in Karakura who can help Ichigo the way he needs to recover.”

A little life sparked in blue eyes. “You want me to stay. That’s dangerous-”

“Six months ago Karakura got yanked into another dimension because a power-hungry bastard wanted to wipe out every soul in it and take over as Soul King,” Ichigo cut him off. “Whatever trouble you’ve got, whatever nasty powers they’ve got, we can handle it.” He gave Hei his best rescuing idiot shinigami scowl. “You’re alive, like I am, for the same damn reason. We had people who cared, and put their lives on the line to make sure we had backup. Now let us help.”

Hei’s gaze slid aside.

Damn it, I’m not getting through, why- oh.

Oh. And hell. Hei had said his sister was gone. He hadn’t known she was dead until her ghost left him, which meant....

“I’m going to tell you something my dad told me, once,” Ichigo said quietly. “You couldn’t save her. She chose to protect you. You knew her better than anyone. You think your sister would die for someone who wasn’t worth saving? You were worth everything to her. Don’t you dare think you can stop living now.”

It was wry, but that was definitely a smile on Huang’s face. And that was an amused flick of whiskers, as Mao leaned up against Yin’s arm until she stroked his ears.

Good, Ichigo thought. They want him to get better, too.

Though he could tell right now that coaxing Hei back into it’s okay to be alive was going to take a lot more time. The guy wasn’t walking an empty riverbank, but he’d bet two of Yuzu’s sweets that was mostly because Hei wasn’t a kid anymore. He had responsibilities. He couldn’t fall apart. So he just... wouldn’t let it happen.

Going to have to get through that, too. No way am I letting him get as crazy as Dad.

How was the question. He’d fixed Byakuya with a good bankai-on-bankai clash and a punch in the face. But the very noble head of Kuchiki had gone all self-sacrificing ice prince because of the whole upper-crust tangle around bringing Rukia into the clan in the first place. Once a few of those nobles just plain weren’t around anymore - thank Aizen for inadvertent favors - Byakuya had gradually loosened up to human again. Or, well, shinigami. Close enough.

Hei, though... Hei had gone from witnessing murder to bodyguarding the murderer to child assassin and who knew how much worse. He’d walled himself up in ice just to stay sane.

No wonder the guy thought he was a Contractor.

So. Knuckle sandwich wouldn’t work. Time to bring out the Kurosaki family’s unstoppable secret weapon.

Ichigo thumped Yuzu’s bento down on the table. “Okay! Enough gloom and doom. You’re going to eat, and I’m going to tell you everything Chief Kirihara said.” He grinned at them all. “Because you should have seen her face.”

Cinnamon, sugar, a heady scent of chocolate icing... wow. Mini-donut things? Looked like at least five different kinds; Yuzu had been experimenting. And she’d packed this to the gills. Thank goodness. If Hei was as bad with sweets as with noodles, he could probably inhale the whole thing.

Hei did take three as Ichigo handed the box around. Seemed to sniff them, then handed off spicy cinnamon and chocolate-on-plain to a bright-eyed Yin. “You like these kinds?”

“Yes.” Yin closed her eyes as she nibbled down cinnamon-dusted bites. “Oo. Sweet.”

“Hmph.” Mao leaned against her arm, casually not looking. “Cats can’t taste sweet.”

Yin licked the last cinnamon off her fingers, then bit carefully into the chocolate-iced round. Stopped, thoughtful. “This one has cream in it.”

“Mraaoww!”

Mao caught their glances, and detached himself from Yin’s sleeve as she held out a lump of cream filling. “Ahem. Thank you, don’t mind if I do....”

“So you’re letting BK-201 run around loose in Karakura because there are invisible monsters stalking the citizens, and the cops want the help.” Folder in hand, Ishizaki Kanami leaned back in Misaki’s guest chair, curls more frazzled than usual. “If it were anyone else, Misaki....”

“I’m not letting him run around loose,” Misaki said primly, toying with her cold lemonade. Even ice didn’t seem to cut the heat today. Though maybe that was having taken the past few days to think through what she’d asked Kanami to do, and what the consequences were likely to be. “If he leaves that radius he’s back on the list. I’m just advising you that Doll analysis of the Karakura area is not cost-effective if you’re likely to lose the Dolls in the process.” She glanced at the file Kanami was looking through, copies of some of the most relevant Karakura cases, and shuddered. “And you just might. The creatures - the Hollows - apparently will target coma victims that catch their attention.”

“I see that-” Kanami stopped. Swallowed.

Misaki eyed how far she was through the file, and made a guess. “The Yanase house?”

“...Whoa boy.” Kanami sagged back, a little pale. “That kind of damage to the bodies, and no other Contractor there besides BK-201?”

Misaki nodded.

“Okay, they’ve got a problem,” the Astronomics researcher stated. “And no, I don’t want my boys and girls scanning anywhere near it if it might come looking for them. We’ve got defenses against Contractors. How can we protect them against things we can’t see coming?” She looked up, gaze intent. “And why would BK-201 stay where these creatures are, even if you are giving him a safe spot from scans? It’s not rational.”

Misaki had been thinking that through, too. “No, it’s very rational. First,” she held up a finger, “think about who we’ve caught in the Syndicate so far. The power and influence they have, the people in other countries they’ve implicated... the Syndicate reaches worldwide. Any move he makes, he has to calculate how likely it is they’ll have a kill team in place to catch him. Odds are he can’t leave Japan without someone picking up his trail. BK-201 is good, but the Syndicate can hire dozens of Contractors.”

“But if he stays here, anyone they hire has to get into Japan - and past Section Four,” Kanami realized. “Wow. That’s....”

“Ruthless? Rational? A perfect Contractor?” Misaki suggested.

Kanami gave her a mischievous grin. “I was going to say, sounds like he thinks you’re really good at your job.”

Misaki was not going to blush. “And... there’s a second reason. Karakura General is one of the closest hospitals outside Tokyo that has a major trauma center.”

Kanami sat up straight. “He’s hurt?”

“I doubt it,” Misaki grumbled. “This is tentative, based on the evidence.” And strictly speaking was Section Four business, but she wasn’t putting it in a report. Kanami could keep a secret, and she had to talk this over with somebody. “We don’t think BK-201 works alone. He has a team. A Doll for observation and reconnaissance, and a sniper.”

Kanami’s lips pursed in a silent whistle. “That’s not usual, is it?”

“The MI6 team has a Doll, July,” Misaki allowed. “But no. Usually the Contractors Section Four has faced are working with other Contractors. Sometimes with a human handler. Even that’s rare.”

Kanami nodded. “But you still think you’re right.”

“I told you about BK-201 apparently rescuing that lost boy, Hideyo.” Misaki sipped her drink, getting her thoughts in order. “What I didn’t tell you is that Karakura PD had more details on the search. Apparently the civilian effort was organized by an injured ex-cop - an ex-detective - who called himself Kuno. With his young niece, Kirsi, who is very shy, doesn’t make eye contact, finds lost pets... and always held onto a glass of water.” She glanced at Kanami. “There was a garden pond overlooking BK-201’s point of entry. A specter from there would have been able to see the boy. And Kuno-” She winced. “The name seemed familiar. I looked in our files. Seven years ago Detective Kuno Kiyoshi resigned, after his partner Isozaki was killed by a Contractor. Other associates and Isozaki’s wife are on record as having had their memories altered. Kuno is not. And he was rated an expert marksman.”

“You think he went Syndicate? That’s....” Kanami swallowed, and looked away.

Misaki frowned.

“I was just thinking.” Kanami tapped a finger on her own drink. “If something happened to you, and people said they were going to make me forget you... you’re going to stop that, right?”

“Section Four’s not wiping anyone else,” Misaki said firmly. “If the government wants that to be a continued policy, they can find someone else. I’ll resign first. The whole Section will.”

Kanami nodded, satisfied. “So let me see if I have this straight. The Syndicate tried to wipe out all the Contractors. Somehow they knew BK-201 would be a threat to that-”

“Brazil,” Misaki said simply. “Readings say he was at Heaven’s Gate.”

Or at least, readings had said BK-201 was at Heaven’s Gate. Yet according to Dr. Schroeder, five years ago BK-201 had been assigned to a woman.

How is that even possible? One star, one Contractor. That’s how it works.

Li was BK-201, and he was definitely not a woman. Something was fishy here. And she couldn’t even ask what, because the government had squirreled Schroeder away for his knowledge of the Gates and no one would even admit where he was.

“Okay, wow, yeah that’d do it,” Kanami reflected. “So... they use BK-201 to set things up, then take him out before their big ka-boom. Only they miss. And hit his handler instead. He tears through the Syndicate like a hot knife through butter, blows the anti-Gate stuff sky-high, saves you, and then goes to ground and hides. In the one place it’s worth it to the cops for him to hang out hunting monsters. So they’ll cover for him.” She shook her head slowly. “Wow. I wonder how long he’s been planning to get out?”

Misaki stared at her.

Kanami raised both eyebrows. “He found a place right near Tokyo where you’d rather have him loose. Think how much research that had to take. This guy? He’s not just dangerous because of his power. He thinks.”

Misaki had to agree. But it was so hard to sort a ruthless, patient planner with the image of the flailing waiter in her head.

That’s what makes it a good cover, right?

“Though if we’re talking about rational thinking, why would he save you?” Kanami wondered. “Well... outside the fact that if he was telling the Syndicate, I quit, having you there to catch them would make sense.”

“It would,” Misaki agreed. “The odd thing is it wasn’t the first time. Or even the second.”

Kanami blinked. “It wasn’t?”

“Alice’s party.” It was still hard to talk about. “She had me at gunpoint in the penthouse. And then... all the lights blew out.” And she’d almost tripped over Li getting away, and actually put her hand over his mouth to keep the supposed civilian from making a sound-

The memory gave her cold chills. BK-201 could kill with a touch. Or even just touching something conductive. Water, wire, blood soaking thick carpet - they’d seen it happen.

She’d touched him, and she was still alive.

“And then he broke in just when Wei was about to kill Saitou,” Misaki stated. “If he’d waited even a few seconds more, we’d both be dead.”

“Well, Contractor or not, he is a guy.” Kanami leaned forward, eyes impish. “Maybe he just thinks you’re cute?”

Misaki rolled her eyes. Yes, from what they knew about Contractors some were still interested in sex, but that would hardly outweigh all the rational reasons not to confront Wei. “There’s something else. I couldn’t get at Kuno’s medical records directly, but Outsuka was able to hack his likely admission time.” It didn’t make sense. But so much about this didn’t make sense. “It was before BK-201 came after the Syndicate.”

“Before-” Kanami cut herself off, eyes narrowing as she thought that over. “Are you saying a Contractor - a rational, doesn’t-care-about-anything-but-surviving Contractor - saved his handler first? And went after the guys who shot at him later?”

“And currently seems to be looking out for both Kuno and the Doll,” Misaki nodded. And a stray lost child and too-brave teenager, but she wasn’t inclined to muddy the waters any more than she had already. After all, if Kuno was BK-201’s handler, it’d probably been his decision to get involved in the search for Hideyo.

He knew what he did was going to send up a flare, Ichigo’s voice rang in her memory. And he killed it anyway.

Misaki breathed out, and took another cold slug of lemonade. So many pieces, and none of them made sense.

“There is no way I ever want to have your job,” Kanami started.

The apartment buzzer rang.

Kanami didn’t say a word when she picked up her service weapon to answer the door. Thankfully.

The welcome mat was empty, except for a small cardboard box addressed to her. The return address was... a greeting card company?

Kanami peeked out past her. “Someone apologizing, or they want to get on your good side?”

“I don’t know.” For a moment, Misaki weighed the pros and cons of calling the Bomb Squad. But Section Four was on thin enough ice as it was, if it looked like the young woman in charge was panicking....

And it was such a small package.

Gingerly she picked up the light box. Brought it inside, placed it delicately on her desk, and carefully slit the packing tape.

Inside was a crinkle of wadded sheets of paper, padding a three-inch-thick paperweight of clear acrylic. Misaki picked it up, squinting at it, but the block didn’t change; not a mark on the outside, yet someone had somehow sculpted a feathery tree-shape inside the clear plastic.

“Ooo, a Lichtenberg figure!” Kanami looked alert and delighted, studying the tracery from all sides. “And it’s a paperweight? Someone must really have guts to send you this.”

“Why?” Misaki pounced. “What’s a Lichtenberg... thing?”

“Awesome,” Kanami declared. “They charge the block up with electrons, and then they just poke it with something conductive. Usually a nail. All the electrons blast out at once, and - zap.” She tapped the plastic with a painted nail. “I knew there were places in America that made figures for decorations, but when did they start making paperweights?” She turned it, letting light catch the feathery shimmers. “You never heard of them? I thought you would. I did, after you told me BK-201’s power was electrical. It’s frozen lightning.”

Brown eyes met in utter silence. Misaki caught her breath, and dove for the box.

Nothing, nothing, just more paper, what am I even doing, this could have been a trap, it still might be... why isn’t there anything in here but packing paper-?

Paper crinkled loud as cicadas as she unfolded the pages. Writing on the inside of the crumpled balls, how was she supposed to sort this out, how did the Syndicate even train people if BK-201 expected this to make sense-

Oh. He numbered them.

Terms accepted, the first page started. Situation more complicated than local PD is aware. Continuing to gather background info.

Hollows preferentially target victims with emotional, psychic trauma. Depression, recent loss, traumatic experience. Local practitioners refer to “soul wounds”. Contractors and Dolls fit this category.

Misaki had to stop for a moment. Because she’d heard the whispers about Contractors and Dolls not having souls anymore, who hadn’t, but that was superstition. Soul wounds? Really? And he expected her to believe this?

Soul injuries known to affect emotional expression, morals, and ability to see other people as human beings. Gate-affected victims have catastrophic injuries. Expert opinion, “lucky to be alive”.

Misaki almost crumpled the paper all over again. The things she’d seen Contractors do, and he was referring to them as victims?

Under certain circumstances, some degree of recovery is possible.

“What?” Kanami blurted out.

Argh. She should have known Kanami would read around her shoulder, her friend had an incurable curiosity. “I don’t think you want to know this-”

“Are you kidding?” Kanami cut her off, shifting to keep the page in view even as Misaki tried to drag it away. “Of course I do! Is he saying Dolls can get better?”

Of course not, Misaki almost said; BK-201 was talking about Contractors-

Except he wasn’t. He’d specifically mentioned both.

Specific circumstances known to date: Recovery requires long-term allied, non-harmful social interactions with a stable group. Group must have some common goals. Survival reliance enhances healing. See MI6 Contractor/Doll team.

“Those are the guys you talked about. With July. A Doll who can act on his own.” Kanami sucked in a breath. “The one where November 11 killed his team’s handlers. And you thought he found out about the plan to wipe out the Contractors.”

His handlers, and somewhere over a dozen armed guards, Misaki knew, armed with just frozen brandy. Dying himself in the process. “I know. It was weird then; it still is now. He could have just gone along and gotten out. Taking on those odds wasn’t rational.”

Informing you for Section Four’s safety, BK-201’s note ran on. If you encounter lone Contractors, or Contractor-only groups working together temporarily, your usual tactics of appealing to rational self-interest will apply. But a Contractor who has been part of a team for months may not be rational, and a Doll will not be passive. If a team member is threatened - have seen both altruistic suicide and berserk frenzy.

If further updates would be useful, I could see you at the noodle shop.

...And that was apparently it. Argh.

“Noodle shop?” Kanami said in disbelief. “Which noodle shop? There have to be hundreds in Tokyo!” She blinked. “Wait, but if he knows he’s safe in Karakura, he won’t come to Tokyo....”

“I know which one he means.” Misaki tried not to bury her face in her hands. Because damn it, BK-201 obviously knew where she’d taken Ichigo. So either he’d been watching all along and she’d missed him, or the two were definitely talking. Or both.

“Oh, good,” Kanami reflected. “So can I come with you?”

Misaki narrowed her eyes at her friend. “Kanami. You know he’s dangerous.”

Kanami blinked like she was the one who’d suffered temporary insanity. “Of course he is. But he’s also getting better. Wow, that must be weird, caring about people again after years of just being rational.” She raised an eyebrow at Misaki’s look of disbelief. “Come on, you’re the one who said he’s part of a team. And he doesn’t act rationally. I want to talk to him. And his team. If there’s some way to help Dolls be people again, I want to know about it!”

And that was Kanami being fierce. Cross at your own peril. “You want to put yourself out of a job?” Misaki asked wryly.

Kanami drew herself up straight. “If it means all my girls and boys get to have real lives again? Yes.”

Misaki pictured the government’s reaction if all of Astronomics’ Dolls suddenly woke up and demanded their own lives back. It wouldn’t be pretty.

Then again, letting ordinary people find out Contractors existed was going to be enough of a mess. Maybe whatever Kanami could do would just get ignored in the chaos.

“Noodles.” Misaki hefted the paperweight. “He’d better not expect me to pay.”