Wow, no way right? It'll be done soon.

Kuukaku meant to carry out the orders post haste and would have followed through on this intent successfully had it not been for a single obstacle.

Unohana in all her righteous glory, specifically, her arm slung across Kuukaku’s path at a critical moment between sprinted steps allowing for a perfect halt of forward motion. A clothes-line, laid out by Mother Theresea herself Kuukaku sputtered disbelievingly at the ceiling. She moaned and coughed, things feeling detached deep in her abdominal cavity, she expressed all sentiments though vulgarities.

“Son of a bitch, who the fuck would do something like that?”

“Swear less please.”

She smiled gently and made to assist the fallen woman to her feet only to have her efforts quashed by Kuukaku’s pride. Recovering her breath she clambered to her feet.

“Shit, why’d you feel the need to break my fuckin’ ribs?”

“I know the result of your temper and I’m sure whatever you were running to do was less than friendly.”

“Fuck friendly.”

“I won’t have more people admitted to this hospital because of the stunts you and your friends are pulling.”

Her voice was steady velvet, calm and soft and informative, Kuukaku didn’t believe her, “Stunts? You think we all want to do this? You think we want all of our friends admitted to your fucking hospital. Bullshit.”

Unohana did not react, no patronizing healers smile, no words of calming wisdom, though she looked neither shocked nor angry the emptiness informed Kuukaku that she had been successful in inciting whatever vicious epiphany she had wished to inspire.

“Now, I’m going to check on Soi, Yoruichi wanted me too, all of the bad shit didn’t end last night and if you wanna keep me from checkin’ I swear to god you’ll be putting stitches in yourself.”

Kuukaku was incapable of feeling guilt when all she’d done was achieve the reaction, or lack thereof, they she had initially wanted, she was not the kind to pat backs and take back words; she wouldn’t say a thing she didn’t mean.

Her march took her past Unohana and to the door, for a second she grasped the handle, ensuring that her breath had returned in sufficiency for her to win any fight she might have to, in a sudden slurry she pushed the handle down and shoved the door inwards to find…

Nothing.

Soi Fong rested peacefully in the hospital bed; color in her cheeks, perhaps even looking better than before. Despite the reassurance in Soi’s health she felt unsettled by the ghost of whatever had been, a presence, sticky and unwelcome seemed to have kept itself in the room’s corner, in the air molecules, she inhaled it and grimaced. Whatever had worried Yoruichi had been here and now it was gone, one more thing to hurt them out in the wild of Tokyo . She smashed a fist into the metal doorframe.

“So you’re the broad that killed Yami huh? Nice tits.” Yoruichi did her best to ignore the man she was forced to share the back seat of the increasingly compact car with, his hair was slicked back and dyed an otherworldly shade of sea foam, as if his blue dye-job had faded badly, his face looked most fitting with an exaggerated sneer but she could see the muscles that lined him, that gave him the look of a crouching jaguar. Halibel had eventually returned from her detour, lion’s eyes filled with practiced ill-intent. Luppi was slurping something in the passenger’s seat.

“Jeeze, don’t even wanna talk huh? Right, Aizen said you were gay ‘er somethin’”

For the first time she looked away from the window and at him, when had the last time been that her sexuality had been conveyed in such a way?

“Yeah, somethin’”

Grimmjow didn’t seem surprised at her abrupt willingness for conversation.

“Yeah? Hey, whatever gets you off?” His voice had a savage gravel in it, “Bad luck for ol’ Urahara huh?” He seemed to be speaking more to his companions or to nobody at all.

“Has to run around with a smokin’ chick like you ‘n doesn’t even get anythin’ fer it. Didn’t he take the fall for that Yami shit?” He whistled, impressed, mocking, now looking her in the eye, “That’s commitment.”

Yoruichi blinked slowly, there was the heat of anger beginning like a rash from the back of her neck but along with it was the realization that such a perspective had never occurred to her. She paled, entrapped, held from violence or response by the company of the enemy.

Halibel eyed her in the mirror.

“Don’t worry the goddess with the feelings of mere mortals, her way seems to be working out pretty good, she even managed to kill a man.”

Grimmjow looked between them not seeming to comprehend the threat, the potent taunt.

“Either way I see it, we’re lucky the bastard’s got such a stiffy for you. Means leverage.”

In a brilliant imagining Yoruichi saw her self braced against the door, her foot smashing in the teeth on his smug face, breaking the golden crown of Halibel’s head, letting the car crash into something, anything, they were only going thirty, she could survive it.

By the time Urahara had reached the specified location the sun had stretched itself sleepily across the sky. Tokyo buzzed with the early signs of commercial and occupational, crosswalks began to fill and empty methodically to the tempo of the lights changing, now and then a horn blared, the man talking voices made up the constant thrum of a bass. Any hint of snow had been pushed to the dirty corners once again and Urahara, feeling very young in his jeans and white tee-shirt, sat on a park swing. For some reason meeting at a school, by some distinction holy ground for grown men, made the negotiations less threatening. Now and then he would gently nudge the moist wood chips with the tip of his shoe, propelling himself backwards, his hands jutting out of his pockets at right angles as he tried to maintain balance without clutching the chains that held him up. Without his hat he looked amazingly youthful, the shadows normally cast around his eyes were less defined, the years of his life were laid out in the sun.

Gin arrived in a suit, the legs pressed, his usable hand was much more sophisticatedly balanced in a deep pocket, the other in a sling, his posture was slack and unguarded.

“Lookin’ sharp, guess I underdressed.”

“This was jus’ the only piece of clothes a’mine that Rangiku had. There was a good reason I left it.”

His smile being permanent, Urahara couldn’t discern his disposition, whoever had gotten to him had done so with force, a bandage above his eye prompted swelling down the entire left side of his face, the skin around his lips was bulged outwards as if his gums were broken and bursting and bruises were barely covered by his pressed white collar.

“She took good care of you huh?”

He was quiet, his smile seeming out of place.

“I guess we should talk about everything.”

“’Spose we should.”

The subtleties weren’t getting them anywhere.

“I want to deal with Aizen.”

“’N he want to deal with you.”

“Anything you can give me to start things off?”

“Things have already started.” His voice was almost a sing-song.

“Anything, Gin.”

The man thought for a moment before responding.

“Since his infiltration messed up he won’t mess around, somthin’ more direct. Get yer choke points. I might jus’ suggest you give up the stuff from the Hogyoku project all together, least then non of yer friends will get hurt.”

“But everyone else involved will.”

Gin was quiet, he moved slowly, proving he intended no harm, he at himself down on the swing next to Kisuke and wrapped his good hand around the chain, for a few seconds he occupied himself with throwing his weight back and forth to gain a bit of momentum.

“Ya’know back then I did all that too, and I thought that the only way to do it was to shut up you guys that investigated. Not like there was any other way ta’ get of’ the hook fer good with what we did. Now I’m jus’ the coward that flipped first,”

Urahara indicated the sling with a hitch of his chin, “Looks like you had good reason.”

“His mistake not killin’ me.”

Gin had all but established a full swinging motion, the metal bones of the set rocked, unused to the weight of a grown man.

“The key to getting’ him is disillusionment, he’s got all those people like there’s some spell on ‘em. It’s his charisma, its bad poison, and there all real convinced a’ themselves. You just have to make ‘em do what I did.”

Not revealing the secret he hopped off of the swing at the peak of its forward arch, landing as if he’d never jumped at all. Urahara kept quietly intent, he looked at Gin’s back, the silver hair fell down onto the back of his suits collar, he was smiling up to the sky.

“Make ‘em see that its all bullshit. Aizen tell ‘em he wants to get ‘em to control the city, that they can use the Hogyoku projects findings to blackmail high-ups in the police force and get some backing, that’s what he’s got ‘em thinking when all he wants to do is save his own ass. That’s what it all is, so what ya’ gotta do it-“

“Divide and conquer.”