The night comes down, pt 4

Yoruichi led a red-eyed Soifon out to the kitchen, where the noises of heavy arguing increased with every step they took. Holding an arm around Shaolin's scrawny shoulders, she offered her a handkerchief. Shaolin, apparently having run out of words, simply accepted it and blew her nose.

Having traversed the vast distance between the common room where the oh so emotional scene just had played out, and the kitchen (a distance of no less than eleven steps from the couch), they found Kukaku hollering and shouting profanities at Kisuke for all she was worth, while the recipient of her abuse simply grinned his most annoying grin, cutting in with a teasing reply here and there whenever Kukaku had to stop to breathe.

"Invalid!" Kukaku bellowed. "I did NOT lose, because she wasn't crying! No tears, you grinning bastard! We just heard sobs-"

"Hello, Kukaku." Yoruichi said calmly. Kukaku jerked, startled; in her fit of rage she had apparently not noticed the two coming back.  
Yoruichi walked over to the kitchen sink, and poured herself a glass of water, while Soifon just stood around, lost. She took a gulp of the water, before turning to Kukaku again. The silence that had come upon the up until recently so lively kitchen was now deafening.

"So," Yoruichi started, "if I didn't know better, I'd think the two of you had just bet money on whether or not Shaolin would cry. Really, betting on emotions now?"

"Look," Kukaku began, looking something in between embarrassed and bothered, "we were just sort of wondering about the murderer you brought into our home, and that absolute fiend over there-" here, she pointed at a still shamelessly grinning Kisuke- "came up with the idea. Okay?"

"As if you even protested." Kisuke said. "You took that bet the instant I proposed it, so don't think you're any better. And also, if it eases your mind, we didn't bet for money. We bet for-"

He was shut up most forcefully as Kukaku slammed her hand over his mouth. What was even more interesting, Yoruichi noted, was that Kukaku was blushing. Quite a lot.

"So, not for money, you say?" Yoruichi said, with a smirk on her lips. "Then what, Kukaku? Did you bet on who'd do the dishes for a month?"

"Yes!" Kukaku said, flushing red. "Exactly! That's what we bet, dishes! Haha!"

"We bet over topsies" Kisuke said, finally wrestling Kukaku's hand off. "meaning that tonight, I-"

"Get the top bunk, right?" Yoruichi said, having fun despite herself.

"Exactly." Kisuke said, his grin wider than that of the Cheshire Cat. "I get the top bunk all night long, if you catch my drift."  

"You wish!" Kukaku shouted, her blush slowly fading. "I didn't lose, after all! Back me up here, Yoruichi! She didn't cry at all, right?" The last part was almost pleading. She hated losing to Kisuke, and Yoruichi knew it.
Yoruichi glanced over at Shaolin. Even a quick glance would tell any observer that yes, with eyes that red you would either have cried rivers, or be having an allergic reaction. Kukaku's head sank down to her chest in defeat. Kisuke beamed.

___

Meanwhile, at a seedier part of town, Jacques Jaeger was trying to make his peace with the less than ideal living conditions he and his current job partners had been given. It was not going well.
This sucked. Here he was, in a shitty motel with no cable TV, and a bed that almost certainly had been defiled too many times for clean linens to fix it, waiting for orders. The walls were mouldy, and the only thing that didn't seem halfway through decay was the door.

He'd taken this job- along with a squad of trusty soldiers he'd worked with for a long time- because he plain was out of options. After that little terrorist job in France- as a mercenary only, mind you; only idiots blew shit up for idealistic reasons- he was a wanted criminal worldwide. Things would calm down eventually, he was sure of it, but at the time it had seemed like he was in for a hell of a lot of lying low.

Then, that green-eyed twat Cifer had contacted him on behalf of this "Aizen". He knew the basics of Japanese, the pay was fantastic, and he'd been told he would spend his time busting skulls. The offer was too good to turn down, so he had taken it along with his squad, and old one-eye.
But the fact that it was that good an offer didn't really sit right with him. Not once in his life had the perfect solution laced with honey, cream and hookers come tumbling down on him, not without a massive catch that usually ended up with him almost dead.

No, this entire sitch made him uneasy. He and Nnoitora had joined in this both, and while he didn't trust him any further than he could throw him (incidentally, one of Grimmjow's favourite fantasies involved throwing Nnoitora very far, by way of catapult), he knew where he stood, and when to watch out. While Nnoitora was an animal, he hated foreigners more than he hated Grimmjow. Hopefully.

Speak of the devil, and he'll appear, he thought as the object of his thoughts walked in.

"Geddup," the lanky bastard said. "we got us a job to do."

"You sound pissed." Jacques remarked, not moving in the least. "What happened, lose in poker to that-"

"Just shut the fuck up and get your gun!" Nnoitora snapped.

"Geez, aren't you fucking tense today?" he said, lazily getting out of his chair. "What's the job, anyway?"

"Why don't you ask our mission commander, Grimmjow?" Nnoitora spat out the word commander as if it tasted bad.

As soon as the mission commander stepped through the not-so-rotten door, he realized what had irked Nnoitora. The new arrival was a tall, very tan and very busty woman with blonde hair, a scarf covering the lower half of her face and, Grimmjow noticed, finely toned muscles with a few scars here and there. It'd be pretty hard to mistake her for the kind of women he usually would hang around- if the uniform she wore hadn't done it, then that strict bearing and cold look of hers would have.
He frowned. This could cause problems. It wasn't that he didn't think women couldn't fight- he'd seen enough girls go bat fuck insane and tear even hardy bikers up, not to mention that streak of sneak they all seemed to have, but… Nnoitora hated them.

This confused Grimmjow, whose relations to women was very simple: he paid, and they put out (or if he was lucky, he didn't need to pay at all). Insofar as fighting came, a soldier was a soldier so long as he pulled his own weight, no matter the gender- it could be said that Jacques Jaeger had no particular views on women at all.
Nnoitora did, though. It never ended well when some woman showed a bit of strength around him; that's how he'd lost his right eye.

Oh well. Let the one-eyed bastard do as the one-eyed bastard wants, so long as he didn't have to get involved.

"You are the mercenaries Jacques "Grimmjow" Jaeger and Nnoitora Gilga?" She asked, sounding even more serious than she looked. Annoying, Grimmjow thought. By-the-books people were one of his greatest pet peeves.

"Yeah." He said, lazily. "And you are?"

"Tia Halibel. I will be your team leader for the time being-"

"Yeah, yeah, great." Grimmjow said, with all the respect of a delinquent. "Does this mean we finally get to smash some heads? Do we have some orders already? I am sick and tired of this shitty motel."

Halibel looked him in the eye. Probably sizing him up, judging him.

"Like I said, I will be your team leader for now. And yes, there is a mission- Aizen-sama has decided that it is time to start claiming some territory. So, we are going to conduct a raid." She frowned. "I am surprised with your attitude, Jaeger. I read your file, and you seemed like a good, professional soldier from what I read."

"You must have gotten the wrong file." Grimmjow shot back, grinning. "Don't worry, though. So long as I get to kick some ass, maybe kill a few people, I'm satisfied. I ain't gonna make trouble with ya."

Nnoitora spat. "Shows what kinda man you are, Grimm. You might be a little pussy, but I sure as hell won't stand for some woman bossing us arou-"

It really was impressive. Grimmjow hadn't even seen her clench her fist, and that arm of hers was… blurry. That woman had a mean, mean right hook.

Nnoitora staggered backwards, into the wall. He spat, and out came one of his teeth.  

"Bitch-"

Again, there was that right hook. She punched like a mule, Grimmjow mused.
This time, Nnoitora went down, seeming too dizzy to complain.

"I know we will get along great," she said quietly. "like one big happy family. I know this, because if we don't, there will be trouble. Got that?"

Nnoitora just groaned.

"I said, do you understand?" she said, sharply, grabbing him by the hair and pulling him to his feet.

"He understands." Grimmjow said, his grin as wide as the Cheshire cat's. It's not that he didn't like seeing Nnoitora get beaten and humiliated, far from it- but they needed to be in fighting shape. He said as much.

"I agree." Halibel said, letting go of Nnoitora. "Now get ready. We are leaving in fifteen minutes, and I am not going to tolerate any tardiness or laxness."

Maybe this was going to be fun after all.

___

Back in the moderately decent apartment where Yoruichi lived, Soifon was trying to figure things out now that all those stupid, stupid emotions had ebbed out. Sitting in the couch by herself (the two hoodlums Yoruichi-sama lived with seemed to respect her privacy at least, if only because they were busy shouting at each other), she thought hard about what to do next.

She didn't want to kill her any more. She was not supposed to kill her from the start- quite the opposite. …that was right. She had been ordered to get close to Yoruichi-sama again. She had violated orders. As the realization sank in, Soifon put a hand to her face in embarrassment. She could only hope she hadn't been seen disobeying.
Or maybe… had it been the old man's intention that she did this? Had he known she would react like this, and that she would lose to Yoruichi again, and that- no. The venerable Yamamoto-sama could certainly have done that, but she was simply not important enough to manipulate like that. Unless he did it out of boredom…

She stopped her train of thought. Best not to dwell on what might be, and focus on her mission. Which was killing Shihoin Kamuki, somehow. So, what did she do next? The order was to stay close to Yoruichi, presumably in hopes that her father would come close in time.

So what to do? Pose as a student for the close future, staying near her? She could think of worse assignments. Maybe she could find out more about who took Yoruichi-sama from her.
That's how she thought of it now, she realized. Somebody had forced her out of her life, and it wasn't her fault. Not hers, not Soifon's.
The more cynical part of her mind still argued that she was too quick to forgive, but it didn't change how she felt.  She sighed, unsure of about everything.

Back in the kitchen, Kisuke had been chased out back to his room, as much for his own benefit as for Kukaku's. The two had a certain dynamic, but Kukaku had a penchant for using violence to solve all her problems. She also had a very loose idea of "problems", ranging from furniture that got in the way to innocent computers whose only fault was a slow internet connection (which incidentally had cost them quite a bit; Kukaku just didn't know her own strength.).
Mixing Kisuke with Kukaku's short fuse any longer was disaster waiting to happen, so Yoruichi had promptly turned him out.

"So she's back to loving you again, is she?" Kukaku started.

"…you're not even going to pretend you didn't listen in, are you?" Yoruichi said, annoyed.

"I could if it makes you feel better."

"No, forget about that." she said, shrugging.

"Yup, probably best that way. Although… I gotta ask what your next move is, Yoruichi. She's not exactly stable, that girl. What are you gonna do, take her in and teach her the values of friendship, teamwork and sunshine?"

Yoruichi didn't answer, but the guilty look in her eyes betrayed her.

"…you are going to take her in and teach her about every Aesop there is, aren't you?" Kukaku said flatly.

"We-ell…" Yoruichi said, squirming.

"Oh, hell no! It's great that you two made up and all, but she is NOT staying around!"

"Well-"

"Just what are you thinking anyway, you dumb bitch? She tried to kill you. I know you're guilt tripping yourself something ridiculous, but you're moving way ahead of things! She's out of here, and the two of you can bond, hop into bed together, have tea parties or whatever in school, your free time, anywhere but here!"

"Kukaku, you got to admit she's had it tough-"

"And all she needs is a kind, guiding hand or whatever, and everything is fine and dandy? She needs a shrink- and so do you, for that matter- and not some half-assed attempt at making things better!"

"But I could make things better!" Yoruichi argued back, fiercely.

"For how long?" Kukaku said flatly. "For how long before either of you have to go away again, and she goes back to being the mental case she is? She's been hurting like crazy for years now- all because of this stupid obsession she had with you!"

"What are you saying?"

Kukaku sighed. "I'm saying, it will blow up in your face. She belongs to the mobsters, soul and body. Sooner or later, it'll go back the way it was, and she'll snap on you. You could end up dead for it, just 'cause of your guilt-induced want to make "things better", you hear?"

"So what, then? I am not going to ignore her, not now that she is back. I won't."

Kukaku sighed deeper this time, fully exasperated. "And they call me stubborn! Look, dummy, if you're going to continue on like this, don't rush in. Don't feed those crazy ideas she already has. It's not healthy."

"But-"

"Just keep your distance, okay?"

"…fine." Yoruichi snapped, with the air of a teenager denied a special treat. "but, she-

"Is not staying. I will pull the "owns the apartment" card if I have to. Not gonna like it, but I will."

"Fine!"

"…"

"…"

"She can stay here for the night, okay? But after that, she goes back to wherever she came from. Okay?"

"Okay."

The two got out of the kitchen, neither very pleased with the other.


The night passed without much incident, with Soifon sleeping soundly on the couch. The combination of Kukaku-related head trauma, emotional exhaustion and mild insanity had her sleeping more soundly than ever before. She could have sworn she'd only just closed her eyes a minute ago when the alarm clock- an evil agent of Satan in its own right- let its nerve-cracking, piercing howls fill the apartment, killing all sleep-induced joys for everyone.

Before long, there was a loud, metallic rustling in the kitchen as breakfast- she presumed- was being prepared.

She sat up, yawning. Her head was a little sore, but overall she felt better. She looked around. Oh yes, that was right- she was at Yoruichi-sama's place. And more importantly, she realized, she needed to get dressed.
In the two minutes it took her to do so, she realized that she still was missing all of her weaponry, which made her feel… naked. She'd always had her needles, knives and smoke bombs with her, and now they were confiscated. Who had taken them last night?  

"Good morning, sunshine." Yoruichi greeted her. "Sleep well?"

"My equipment." Soifon muttered. "Where is it?"

"Yes, I'm happy to see you too." Yoruichi replied. "As for your collection of knives, we stashed it in Kisuke's room. You may not want to go inside there, though."

Not quite sure what Yoruichi meant, Soifon decided to let the matter rest.

"School." She muttered on. "We'll be late."

"We would, if you went to schools on Saturdays, silly-head." Yoruichi said with a smile. "You can sleep in all you want-"

"Except this is a Thursday, airhead." Kukaku said, poking her head into the room. "We don't have to be in that early, though, so I'm making wok for breakfast. You want some, skinny?"

Out of politeness, Soifon said "yes", noticing too late the heavy-handed gestures Yoruichi was making when she thought Kukaku didn't see.
It should be mentioned that Kukaku's idea of wok was to take any leftovers in the fridge (meaning, almost everything), add vegetables, and then aggressively spice, fry and spice it some more until it should not by any logical or physical means be edible. Somehow, it was always eaten to the last grain of rice and praised as the healthiest of dishes.
Unfortunately, Soifon did not know this.


A few thousand dead taste buds later, Soifon was on her way to school along with the quirky trio, ready to be as ninja as ninja could be.

School was every bit as busy, petty and overall annoying as she expected it to be. Children, teenagers, all of them carelessly whistling the years of their youth away on things that, from the young assassin's eyes, seemed so small. "Does Komuro-kun like me? Ohmygosh, he asked me out on a date!" "Who's up for that party at Kazura-chan's place? Her parents are out of town..."

...really, they could be training to perfect their bodies into a living weapon, or at least aim for academic success. Why care about all these small, tiny social interactions? They were so insignificant.

Sighing, Yoruichi observed little Shaolin, scowling throughout the day. She was doing everything she had been taught to do to keep a low profile, obviously, but she was at the same time markedly awkward with other teenagers. She kept to herself, but stood out at the same time.
She worried for her. Worried that she wouldn't be fit in, worried that she would throw her life away for the yakuza, worried about what she really might be up to... because there was no doubt about it, Soifon was up to something. It might not seem like it, but Yoruichi had training in these things as well, and the subtle signs of purposefulness were there. Soifon still had some goal, and that goal had not been to kill her.
'So who is it, then?'

That would be the most important question, and she wanted to know the answer. Keeping her close to her would be the best option, she had to make that happen somehow-
A part of her mind reminded her that this was all guilt, all because she had left her behind, that she didn't owe her this, that she didn't have the right to try and save Shaolin from something she might not even want to be saved from-
And she shook those thoughts off. This was for Soifon's sake, and, she admitted, her own as well. She had to make Kukaku see this somehow.


At another, much more luxurious part of town, her father, Shihoin Masaki, sat back in his most comfortable chair, sipping some black tea. Things were going just as planned. Briefly, he felt a compulsion to let out a loud, bombastic evil laugh, but suppressed it. That sort of thing looked stupid in the movies, even more so in real life.

One of his enforcers, having had an appointment, entered the room, his eyes cold and hard. This was one of the senior yakuza on his payroll, a man he could trust (for a given value of the word).

"You may report." He said in a neutral tone.

"The information was given to your associate as planned, boss. Aizen's mercenaries raided the place. Thirteen casualties on their side, none on theirs. With this, Gotei influence over the Kosa-kai area of town has become miniscule."

No casualties? Well, Aizen certainly was an efficient man. "And?"

"It is as you said it would be, boss. What's left of the Kosa-Kai is now more scared of us than of the Gotei Juusantai. We can begin peddling drugs and offer protection by the end of the week, and so long as we use new people, nobody'll be able to connect the dots to Shihoin company. Not police, not the families."

"Very good. Dismissed." Masaki could barely keep the smile from his face. Aizen had delivered exactly as he said he would, and this would increase his own power exponentially. This was the beginning of the end for the Gotei, and they didn't have the slightest idea...
Finally letting himself smile as his underling left, he took another sip of his tea. The future looked bright indeed.