Notes: See first chapter for warnings. Appearing here not quite sixth months after AO3, and just barely now, because the posting interface here has decided it hates me again.

Yadōmaru Lisa

Lisa was tired enough to have been fighting Gillians all day instead of just having a couple weird yokes. She just couldn't find the energy to make any objection to Harribel's... fussing. It wouldn't have done any good anyway.

And the truth was, she minded it a lot less than she should have. It made her feel safer. (Not safe, but safer.) She'd stopped flinching when the Tercera touched her shoulder or arm or even her neck.

It must be some low-key secondary yoke effect. It had to be that, because otherwise Lisa had Stockholm Syndrome already, which was not an acceptable possibility. (Very likely, but not acceptable.)

Harribel insisted that they remain in her apartments in the castle until she was certain Lisa wasn't injured. She even got Orihime in. Lisa would have taken that as an opportunity to tell the human girl how much better Ichigo was doing if there hadn't been two Espada breathing down their necks. Harribel was bad enough, but Lisa might have chanced it (there was definitely some sort of Stockholm Syndrome thing going on). But Ulquiorra? No.

(The way he kept literally breathing down Orihime's neck was really creepy, too. Maybe she could ask Sung-Sun if she knew what was up with him.)

Finally, they left the damn castle and returned to Seireitei. Lisa just wanted to get some rest somewhere other than the castle. Knowing Aizen was quite likely in the building made that more or less impossible. Now she just had to hope she didn't immediately get called out to fight Menos eating the Academy or something.

She didn't feel bad about getting used to the house. Mashiro and Hiyori were usually there. It was a little bit like a home.

...There were more than four people in the house. And not more arrancar, either, but shinigami and... was that a human? And something really odd—

...Odd like a Quincy, maybe?

As soon as Harribel dismissed her, probably to ask her fraccion about events while she was occupied, Lisa followed the new reiatsu — and conveniently Mashiro and Hiyori's, too — to a previously-unexplored basement. There were hammering noises coming from inside.

"What the hell is going on down here?" she asked as she reached the foot of the stairs. The basement looked like it was mostly one large room. Some shinigami were building... something.

Mashiro bounced to her feet. "We launched a raid on Twelfth!"

Hiyori chucked a hammer at her. "I accompanied our mistress's fraccion when they went to make a request-demand of the servants of a lower-ranked Espada who's not in Seireitei right now. You sat on your ass scratching yourself."

Mashiro caught the hammer and threw it back without missing a beat. "We rescued some of Berry-tan's human friends—" Hiyori ducked the hammer, and Ichigo's larger human friend caught it before it could clock a skinny, bespectacled shinigami. He didn't look like he planned to give it back.

"Not that I'm not happy Ichigo's friends are out of Twelfth, but why did the fraccion go for this?"

"We were at the yoke checkup, talking about how unfair it is we have to wear the same uniform as the whitecoats just because we're yoked, and Kuchiki Rukia said that Quincy-kun could probably design fine new yoke uniforms — he was in the handicrafts club and really good — except he was stuck waiting to be horribly killed by the science Espada."

Ichigo's friend — Sado, was it? — really had an expressive flat stare.

"So Sung-Sun-sama decided she wanted a personal tailor!"

Lisa could sort of see Sung-Sun going for a tailor, but the others? "And the other two went for it?"

"They were in it to get at Szayelaporro," Hiyori contributed. "They said so. And then Lilynette decided to get in on it, too. So they dragged me off and Mila Rose intimidated the fraccion left in charge and I had to talk to Akon, the little twerp, who turned over the Quincy and the big human and then somehow convinced Sung-Sun to take a dozen of the greenest, most naive technical SRDI people, with the justification that they would... build sewing machines or something. Any opportunity to get people out of Twelfth before Szayelwhatever arrives, I guess. Though I'm still not convinced he's worse than Kurotsuchi."

Lisa shrugged. You didn't have to be worse than Kurotsuchi to merit running away from. "And... what are they building?" She didn't think sewing machines were usually hammered.

"Dunno!" Mashiro said cheerfully. "Bunks," Hiyori said. "Since apparently they're all going to be living down here."

"Ah." That made sense, at least. "Hey, if I get permission from Harribel-sama, do you think you could install a shower somewhere in the house?" She directed the question at the nearest ex- Twelfth shinigami, who eeped and tried to hide behind Sado.

Another one smacked the first one. "We've been conquered by arrancar and now you're scared of Visored? Hell, Ukita, if you're going to be scared of Visored you might as well drown yourself in the fucking toilet right now."

"You should be in charge of talking to Hiyori," Lisa told the second one. "But be ruder." "Hey!"

Abandoning hopes of a shower for the moment, she turned to Sado. "Anything you or the Quincy need? Where is he, anyway?"

Sado tilted his head — there was the Quincy, unconscious on a blanket in the back corner, safely away from the carpentry. "He needs a healer."

"A healer's dependent on Harribel-sama or the fraccion okaying it, but I can at least get him a futon."

But they wouldn't okay anyone leaving to get a healer immediately, and then all three of them were called away in the middle of the night to deal with more damn Menos.

Hopefully the Quincy didn't have any injuries that wouldn't keep a little longer. Or else one of the fraccion would take responsibility for things they brought home and summon someone herself.

...Hopefully the injuries would keep.

Kuchiki Rukia

It occurred to Rukia only as she was knocking that possibly she should have made sure it wasn't some sort of faux-pas for the pet of one Espada to visit the home of another Espada. Well, Grimmjow hadn't said anything about it while refusing Ichigo permission, so hopefully not.

After a minute, the door was jerked open by the shortest of the Tercera's fraccion — Apacci. "Grimmjow can go fuck himself," she said.

Rukia kept her head bowed respectfully, but permitted a twitch of the lips. "Grimmjow-sama didn't send me — I was hoping it would be possible to see Ishida and Sado."

Apacci blinked. "Who?"

"...The Quincy and the other human."

"Oh, right. Uh, sure—" Inspiration seemed to strike. "Sure, if you go get a healer shinigami and bring them with you."

Rukia stepped back a pace and waved to Hanatarō, who she'd left fidgeting halfway down the block. He covered the distance so fast she wasn't sure he hadn't flash-stepped. She turned back to Apacci. "Hanatarō-san is a healer. We weren't sure you'd let him in."

"Eh, he looks harmless enough," Apacci said. "Fine, come in, they're in the basement. Jaegerjaquez can still go fuck himself, though."

The fraccion didn't stick around, and Rukia was afraid they'd end up wandering around an Espada's house unescorted, but Hanatarō was able to find the basement door without difficulty. "Fourth Division instincts," he explained uninformatively.

Down in the basement, a half-dozen shinigami were working on repairing or constructing a large piece of equipment of some description... actually... She hadn't seen one in a long time, but she thought it was a reishi loom. None of them seemed to have noticed Rukia or Hanatarō. Rukia opened her mouth, then decided their nerves were probably shattered enough already without Surprise Kuchiki, and waved Hanatarō at them. Sado and Ishida should be... there. Back in a corner. Sado was preventing Ishida from getting up from a futon.

"—I am telling you, someone else is here, and I'm not prepared to trust strange shinigami—" "It's just me," Rukia said, kneeling next to Sado. Ishida blinked. "I should have recognized — the yoke is obscuring things, but—" "Stop trying to get up," Sado said. He turned to Rukia. "He needs a — oh."

"I brought Hanatarō," Rukia explained for Ishida's benefit. "He'll be over in a minute."

Ishida looked awful, paper-white with dark purple smudges below his eyes. He didn't have a yoke — neither did Sado, could humans be yoked? (Since they obviously didn't have shikai-capable zanpakutō there wasn't any requirement that they be yoked — then again they were both capable of shikai-level combat even without that — then again she wondered if Quincy power would just absorb a yoke. Hopefully the Tercera would deal with any questions from Aizen or Tōsen or... whoever.) His unmarked neck only made the half-healed incisions extending from under his patient robe up past his collarbones more obvious.

"You look like hell," she said brightly. "More or less what I was expecting, though." "Likewise," Ishida said dryly.

Rukia blinked. "Really?" Non-damaging yoke, all healed up from the new yoke 'testing' night before last, all healed up from the previous day's Hollow-hunting — the kosode had some grass stains she hadn't bothered trying to get rid of, but that hardly equated to looking like hell. "I'm a little overtired, maybe?"

Ishida and Sado exchanged awkward looks.

Hanatarō cleared his throat, also awkwardly, as he joined them. "I think they are probably looking at, um, your arms, and, uh..." He indicated the side of his own neck.

Oh. Right. That.

And the bruises were already coming up on her forearms, too. They weren't identifiably finger- shaped, yet, but there was still time.

How embarrassing.

"Nothing to worry about," she said briskly. "Grimmjow-sama was just trying to make Ichigo mad."

"By... biting you," Ishida said flatly.

"It made him very mad," Rukia assured them. "And much more combatively mad than when he was just upset over not being allowed to come visit you, which I'm sure was the point. It's nothing, or Hanatarō would have insisted on taking care of it before we left Fourth, right? Right. How are they, Hanatarō?"

"Sado-san is still recovering from his battle injuries, and he hasn't been sleeping or eating well since then," Hanatarō replied. "Ishida-san... I don't think has any untreated injuries, but there are several which could be treated better."

"How's Ichigo?" Sado asked.

"He's..." Stuck in a house with only Grimmjow or the fraccion for company most of the time. Beaten and humiliated daily. Having trouble interpreting what Grimmjow wanted from him, exactly. Still feeling responsible for their collective predicament. Lonely. Bored. "Working very hard at regaining his powers. He was very disappointed that Grimmjow-sama wouldn't allow him to visit."

"They might not have let him in anyway," Hanatarō said. "They say the Tercera doesn't trust males. They're human, and I'm too weak to be threatening, but even without his powers..."

"Perhaps we can write, ah..." Ishida gestured vaguely, "write letters. Hanatarō-san, are there any injuries that might explain why I can't think straight? I'm becoming concerned."

"Well, there's the poor sleep. And I wouldn't be surprised if, um, the pain was... overwhelmingly distracting? Unless they started giving you something..."

"They got paranoid about it after the second near-overdose," Ishida said. "But I don't think that's it."

"I'm just going to put in a temporary block while I finish the exam—"

"That's not—" Ishida broke off as Hanatarō applied the kidō. "Oh." And, apparently, fell asleep on the spot. Hanatarō and Sado had to ease him back to the futon.

"Is he going to be able to do the tailor stuff soon?" one of the Twelfth Division people asked anxiously. "Because if she asks—"

"Just — give him the rest of the day," Hanatarō said. "And he should stay off his feet for longer, if at all possible?"

Sado nodded firmly. "I can carry him if needed."

That would go over well, Rukia was sure. "I'm sorry to disappear while Ishida's unconscious, but there are some other things I need to get to today. I'll come back when I can."

Sado nodded again. "Give Ichigo our best."

Next on the agenda was a stop at formerly-Eleventh. Rukia still wasn't at all sure she was having any impact on the children there, but both Hinamori and Shihōin Yūshirō seemed to appreciate her visits, so she kept it up when she could.

Today, Hinamori wasn't there — no surprise — but Yūshirō drew her aside almost immediately. "Rukia-san," he said. "May I ask you a question?"

She raised her eyebrows. That had been... unusually diffident. "Go ahead."

"The latest version of the yoke doesn't injure people with less spiritual power, so it's assumed it's also... safe for children." He made a face. "So, I could leave the compound, get a yoke, go to the Academy, and start contributing."

Ah. "But you also have the option of staying here, with no yoke?"

"So far. Hinamori-fukutaichō gave me the... impression, that she thinks it would be better for me to stay, but she hasn't given any specifics. I was hoping you could tell me something about the possible yoke holders, and give me your opinion?"

"Of course," she said. "I'm not sure who you'd be most likely to end up with... Tōsen-sama probably wouldn't let you go to the Primera, since he's living in a secondary Shihōin property. Baraggan is possible — that would be — not good."

"Considering the condition Ōmaeda-fukutaichō is generally in I wouldn't think so," he murmured.

"The Tercera is relatively decent to her pets, but gender may come into it. I don't know how Ulquiorra deals with those Academy teachers he's holding the yoke on. Coldly. Nnoitra is extremely bad for a female prisoner, but I have no idea how he'd deal with a young male."

"I'd rather not be there no matter how he would treat me," Yūshirō muttered. "I know Nariko- san..."

That would get awkward. "Grimmjow-sama... I believe Grimmjow-sama said he was looking for a durable plaything for the fraccion. Quite possibly still better than Nnoitra or Baraggan, but I wouldn't recommend it." Before he could say anything, she continued briskly, "Zommari I don't know about. He's only handled Sasakibe-san, and... well. Szayelaporro is not an option, fortunately. Aaroniero is... Aaroniero hopefully wouldn't be interested in you." Although actually — "On second thought... About Aaroniero. He — did you know Shiba Kaien-dono well?"

Yūshirō blinked at the apparent non sequitur. "...Fairly well, yes? After onee-sama had to leave— I had my own tutors, of course, but he was... friendly."

Damn. Hopefully Aaroniero wouldn't realize that. But. "I don't know how much you know about what happened to him. He was... taken over by a strange kind of Hollow, and though we thought it had been purified it escaped." Yūshirō opened his mouth, but she just barreled onwards. "Aaroniero subsequently ate the Hollow and gained its powers and its — access to Kaien-dono's memories and... and soul." So of course he'd know exactly what relationship Kaien had with Yūshirō, what had she been thinking.

Yūshirō had grown steadily more gray as she spoke. "That's... obscene."

"Yes." She swallowed. "And he... seems to be interested in... playing at being him. Sort of. In a... very twisted way." She wouldn't say more, and he clearly wasn't going to ask more, but he was a Shihōin — he could probably guess some of it. "So, keeping that in mind... I wouldn't advise you to — I would advise that you not leave the compound. Not unless things get a lot more dire."

He nodded, eyes wide. "Thank you, Rukia-san. I will... take your advice."

"Glad to be of help." Damn, she was probably going to have nightmares about Aaroniero now. "Is there anything else I can help with while I'm here?"

"Hmm... Well, the younger adolescents are still thoroughly factionalized, especially the girls, but I think it would take more than a morning to sort that out."

"Kazuko-chan and Rurichiyo-chan still haven't made up?"

"It's gotten worse, actually. It turns out at least one Kasumiōji retainer decided to become a sworn shinigami with the idea that he'd still be able to protect Rurichiyo that way. It wasn't her idea and she isn't very happy about it, but she won't renounce him, so she's had some defectors from her camp."

Rukia winced. She could see both sides of that one. All sides, even.

Yūshirō held up a finger. "However, it turns out defecting from Rurichiyo's camp does not equal fitting in well in Kazuko's camp, since Rurichiyo had attracted a lot of the less traditional group to begin with. So, unless Kazuko bends soon, I think Noriyo will be breaking off with a third group."

Rukia tried not to laugh. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"Some of each. Kazuko-chan is still pretty dismissive of the becoming-shinigami plan, so reducing her influence is good, but the increased tension is making things very awkward around here, and another split will make it worse. We've already had to break up a few scuffles."

"And given the physical training future scuffles will only get more serious?"

"I'm not worried about that so much — if I can get them sparring it might get some of the tension out — and we've been trying to impress on everyone the importance of not attacking people below your skill level."

Probably mostly aimed at Fēng children. "What about the boys?"

"There's a sizable group focused on proving their manliness by Becoming Strong Enough To Be Shinigami, which is helpful for me. Rurichiyo's former betrothed is still sticking by her, and there are some other boys in that group, too. Kazuko's group has more of a... parallel, allied group centered on Kuchiki Masakatsu."

...Arrogant Boy. Wonderful. "I'm surprised he hasn't annoyed all his followers away." Yūshirō shrugged. "It's a status thing, I think. Since he's the highest-ranked male Kuchiki here."

"But you still outrank him, don't you? If they're going to go by that." Whiiiiiich they weren't supposed to be doing, but it wasn't like Rukia was going to go running to Tōsen about it.

"Yes, but I'm strange."

Hmm. Her family position wouldn't have much if any impact on Masakatsu — his branch of the family had never thought much of her. "Do you think he's old enough for me to kick him in the head?"

"...Probably not. I'll make him do more push-ups."

And then it was over to Thirteenth for off-day planning and strategizing. They were supposed to be getting some new whitecoats, and would need to adjust plans accordingly. Rukia was better at dealing with the whitecoats than Kiyone or Sentarō — partially because she was yoked but not disarmed, and partially just because she was much better at hiding how she felt about them. No one really reacted well to open furious contempt.

And in fairness, a lot of the whitecoats had been desperate when they went up the hill, and desperation twisted people up. She didn't actually blame them — much — for deciding to swear allegiance. Just. There was that mysterious test, which some people didn't pass, so all the whitecoats who came back had done something more than make a decision.

But this wasn't the time for worrying about that. This was the time for making sure none of the new whitecoats were going to be a complete disaster, and because Rukia dealt with them so much better, she got to go check them out first. One obvious Eleventh Divisioner, one she couldn't quite get a read on, and— "Kuroki-san?" The nineteenth seat of Sixth — now former, she guessed — was some sort of Kuchiki third-cousin-in-law-twice-removed, and she would have assumed he'd been killed with the other Kuchiki and Kuchiki-beholden officers. "Congratulations on surviving. I'm sure nii-sama would be pleased."

Kuroki turned pasty white and wouldn't meet her eyes the entire interview. ...Huh.

She made it back before curfew with, as instructed, an entire wheelbarrow of take-out food. Hopefully it wasn't because Ichigo wasn't in a good enough condition to make dinner.

The house was loud again. That couldn't be good.

Grimmjow caught her just inside the door and grabbed her by the back of the neck. "Leave that here. Go wait out back with Kurosaki, and stay out of the way. Unless I call you."

"Hai, Grimmjow-sama."

Loud, and not involving Ichigo? She looked around as much as she could going straight back, and — oh.

The promised replacement pet had arrived. Damn.

Out in the garden, Ichigo was going through sword forms with vicious force. He looked like he'd been beaten up already. Rukia dropped down on the grass and leaned against a tree.

"I saw Sado and Ishida. Sado looks worn out and Ishida looks worse, but Hanatarō didn't find anything serious. They're stuck in a basement, but... They're out of Twelfth."

Ichigo ran through a few more forms. "That's good."

"Ishida suggested if you still weren't allowed to visit for whatever reason the three of you could write letters back and forth." She suspected the writing in any such exchange would be rather unevenly divided, but communication would be good. What else... "The new whitecoats are a mix. Adolescent ex-noble factionalization is intensifying." She paused as Ichigo continued. "... Are you under orders to keep training?"

"Yes." Slash, thrust, slash, what would have been a Getsūga tenshō if he had his powers. "...How long has this been going on?"

"Few hours. It's so the fraccion don't have to deal with me while they..." He glanced at the house, face twisting. "Her name's Matsūra Tomomasa. Minor noble, I guess."

Too minor for Rukia to have had to memorize the name. "The family name is different, but Grimmjow-sama was looking into Utsunomiya Tomomoto's family — is she married?"

"Was. Yes." Slash, slash. "Widowed now. Three little kids she hasn't seen in a month."

Oh. She was a mother, was why he was reacting so strongly. Not that Ichigo wouldn't have been distraught no matter who the victim was — this was someone else being enslaved for the fraccion to abuse, because Ichigo and Rukia were only available at Grimmjow's say-so, not by default — but this made it an issue. "I see."

"I said, I said I would — but Grimmjow-sama said no." Slash, thrust. "Said I should get used to it." Parry (not a very good one), slash, slash. "Had me demonstrate what she's supposed to do when I kept arguing." Unpowered Getsūga tenshō. "Said I should be grateful they didn't bring in me and you and make an org— An event of it." Thrust, stumble, slash. "Said maybe I could spare her a few specific acts if I came up with something good to pay for it." Slash, slash. "And I am so. Fucking. Sick of being helpless!"

It wasn't a very big Getsūga tenshō, historically speaking, but it still split the porch and put a hole in the wall of the house.

Ichigo caught himself before his sword's suddenly doubled length and weight could drop him on his face. "Zangetsu...?"

Grimmjow bounded out the hole in the wall. "Ha! Shikai! I knew you'd get over it, you bastard! Now fight me!"

Ichigo was tired from several hours of nonstop training and out-of-practice with his actual sword, not to mention still only at shikai level — Grimmjow would still beat him without too much trouble, and then there'd probably be the usual post-beatdown assault. Rukia, still unable to leave the yard, had to retreat to what was left of the porch roof to get out of the way.

As soon as Tōsen found out about this, Ichigo would be put in the 'shikai asset' rotation, and Grimmjow would have to let him out of the house more. So, good thing for Ichigo, and good thing for the squads who'd get his backup.

Too bad for Matsūra-san, though. Maybe she could at least get permission to see her kids? Or just hire a damn housekeeper?

Rukia had to leap off the porch roof as a poorly-aimed cero took out what was left of the porch and continued inside to, by the sound of it, severely startle Edrad. The fraccion barged outside a second later, and then it just turned into a general brawl involving everyone except Matsūra-san and Yylfordt, who snuck off and ate more than his share of the takeout instead, up until the brawl reached him.

The end of the evening found Ichigo passed out from exhaustion, Rukia almost as black and blue as he was, and Matsūra-san — composed.

"I had some warning, Kuchiki-san," she said. "I — knew what to expect. This isn't—" She broke off. "Grimmjow-sama said if I'm satisfactory, I may send my family extra rations. And — better this, than some of the others."

"...Yes." Nnoitra. Baraggan. Aaroniero. Right, couldn't forget she had nightmares scheduled.

Ishida Uryū

In the middle of Seireitei, surrounded by shinigami (not the strongest, but not all weak by any means), Visored (stronger than most or all shinigami wandering around), Numeros (nothing to scoff at), Espada (some of whom had terrifying reiatsu levels), and Aizen's freakish castle, the sudden increase in Kurosaki's power still startled Uryū into almost spilling rice all over his futon.

"Are you all right?" Sado asked.

"Fine. Just sensed something." No point in speculating about what. He turned back to Tsubokura. "All right. That... machine," machine-in-progress, really, "produces fabric, in an automated fashion."

"Yes, it's a reishi loom."

"But you haven't built a sewing machine."

"A sewing... machine," Tsubokura echoed. "That must have been what Third Seat Akon meant, about equipment. The world of the living really is amazing..."

"...Seireitei doesn't have sewing machines."

"Um. No."

Uryū wasn't even surprised. This was the place that couldn't even upgrade to a siren, not even to a damn bell, for intruder alarms, and relied on butterflies for internal messaging when they had those perfectly functional phones they used in the world of the living. ...Unless the phones all routed through Twelfth, that might be a good reason to stick with butterflies. But the point stood, sewing machines would be out of character.

So were the reishi looms, really, but— "If you don't do mass production, though, don't you have trouble producing enough uniforms?" he asked. "In the... general you."

"No," Tsubokura said. "It's us. I mean, Twelfth. Or actually it's in collaboration with the Kidō Corps."

"With no sewing machines?" Uryū briefly pictured Kurotsuchi taking time from his busy schedule of torturing people to hand-sew a hundred hakama. Not likely.

"Well, no — it's more a sort of... blank production. Production of blanks, on specialized looms. Then when someone touches it, it shapes itself according to their reiatsu and then... acts like ordinary cloth after that. But this is a plain one and will just make cloth. Any kind of cloth. And thread. And stuff."

"...I see." Cloth and thread and needles were the most important things, but — Uryū knew he was best known for his speed-hand-sewing, which was if he said so himself quite impressive. He preferred the fine control it gave him. But when it came to large, outfit-sized projects, he generally made use of the technological aids available. Quincy techniques could be used to stave off hand cramps, but every time he did he imagined Ryūken giving him a look of disdain, and his grandfather being baffled by mundane uses of noble techniques. So: "I will need that sewing machine."

"Well, that's what we're here for!" one of the other Twelfth Division people said bravely. "Can you describe the construction, or at least the function?"

Oh, hell. He'd once rendered the Handicrafts Club's sewing machine completely nonfunctional trying to un-jam a bobbin. Fortunately Inoue had fixed it before he had to admit it to anyone. "Its function, at least. There are two needles, and a..." He trailed off. "Perhaps I could draw a picture?" Oh hell was he going to have to diagram a sewing machine with an ink brush?

"That's a good start!" said the Twelfth Division person. "Rin, get something for him to write on — I'll get paper and pencil."

(Why did Twelfth Division have to be the Quincy-torturing division and the only one to adopt any technological advances?) (Never mind, it was undoubtedly because of Urahara somehow.)

"I can use the table—" Uryū started, trying to swing his legs off the futon, but Sado dropped a hand on his shoulder.



"You should try to sleep more. It's late anyway."

Probably true, as much as they could tell in the basement, and with the pain at manageable levels he would sleep much better. Still... "I'll try to sketch the sewing machine first, then they can work on it while I'm recuperating. When the fraccion — Sung-Sun — comes back, I'd like to have something to show her that she's getting some return on her investment."

Sado couldn't really argue with that, and he knew it. He just grimaced expressively, and let Uryū at the paper.