Ichigo is a blur, flashing past pursuers, doubling back, in their midst on second, above them the next. He is insubstantial when they reach for him, only an after-image, taunting- scowling, nightmarish in his speed, his presence.

"I'm here."

"I'm sorry, was that your shoulder?"

"Here- here, here, here."

His voice echoes, all around them. They press closer to each other, stepping over and around wounded, spooked.

In truth, it's easy. The pursuers are... rank and file, nothing of any significance to them. They bumble, waving Asauchi at him, Asauchi not worth the metal they're forged from, he thinks disparagingly. Any cohesion they once had is scattered to the winds as they try to nail the wisp of a shadow that's him, now near enough to touch, the next moment gone, and their slash inevitably hits a comrade instead.

Blood spatters the ground, none of it Ichigo's. He's not even scratched.

A perfectly executed series of flashes later, he looses all pursuers, and they're simply looking around in bewilderment for him, when he pauses for a moment on the edge of a roof, his silhouette a target against the sky. The corners of his mouth tug downwards. "That was pathetic." he says with a scoff.

Demoralized, discouraged, heart-sick from slashing at this man, only to find friends at the wrong end of their swords, they simply look up at him, confused and unwilling to attack. About a third of their number are down for the count, another fifth kneeling over them, applying what first aid they can, "You're hurting your own men. That's not acceptable." He scowls and points.

"You!"

The shinigami's spine snaps straight. He barely manages to contain the bow.

The scowl deepens. "Get some reinforcements out here. Your men are wounded."

They stare up at him with uncomprehending eyes, until he barks, "Now!"

The "Yes sir!" slips out. Nobody is surprised.

The wait for the reinforcements is fraught with tension. Ichigo remains on his rooftop, where he can spot anyone approaching for miles around. He can see over the wall, across the boundary, clean, white, pristine on one side, the far side, and, well, the rukongai on the other.

The shinigami watch him warily, muttering among themselves. The one Ichigo singled out is left alone, un-mocked, even given a few sympathetic quick pats on his shoulder. They understand the impulse entirely.

Ichigo (broods) scowls and scowls, and watches the (blood on the ground-his fault, though he never raised a hand) seki-seki barrier with all the intensity of a hawk.

He spreads his reitasu carefully, layers and layers all the way to the edge of the barrier, not close enough to begin the resonant whine again, but just-almost.

When his head lifts sharply, and he glares across the wall, the entire squad stops whatever they're doing to watch him. Everyone expected him to take off long before this; the reinforcements are sure to be accompanied by atleast a seated officer, if not a lieutenant.

The barrier flickers, disappears for the split second required for three blurs to flash through it-

All the stillness is translated into explosive movement, and Ichigo vanishes.

He is besides them at the top of their arcs, that instant enough for them to glimpse orange hair, sharp eyes already focused past them, a white shihakusho, then he's gone.

He lands gracefully as always, the stumble having been almost the first thing Yoruichi beat out of him. A second later, though, that's rendered redundant when he doubles over, clutching at his stomach.

A long moment of gasping, desperate intakes of breath, he straightens slowly. When he pulls his hand away, it's bloody.

"They got me." he says softly to himself, sounding mildly dazed. A second later he shakes himself, and wipes his hand on his shihakusho, uncaring of the red streak it leaves.

Another second, and he flash steps, inexorably towards the center of soul society.

The reinforcements turn on landing, immediately looking back at the wall of the seireitei. The seki-seki barrier is up again, looking as impenetrable as ever. The women in the center spins around again, her long blonde hair settling around her.

She points a finger at the huddled masses, indiscriminate in her demands. "Explain." she orders.

The shinigami separate sheepishly, pushing a specific one forward. "Lieutenant Matsumoto!" he exclaims.

Then he pauses, trying to pull himself together. Pulls himself to attention, summoning a shaky bow, before Lieutenant Matsumoto waves him out of it. "Never mind that," she snaps. "You sorry lot need the fourth. Now. Just tell me who the stranger was."

"We don't know, ma'am." he says, tiredly. "Captain Kuchiki has been searching for this one ryoka. Orange hair, high spiritual pressure. Guy seemed to match the descriptors, so we tried to bring him in."

His speech is slurring. Matsumoto flash-steps closer, inspecting him carefully. "Reiatsu exhaustion," she murmurs to herself.

"Yeah," the man replies, mumbles really. "High spiritual pressure was an understatement. Don't know what the captain wants from him myself. Guy's a monster. He was fast. Greased lightnin'. Every step we made was exactly where he wanted us to go." he half sways, unsteady on his feet, and Matsumo instinctively reaches out, steadies him. His voice is growing less and less clear by the second. "Felt like a released captain too, all the time, draggin' down your speed, weighing you down every step, everythin', pullin' and pullin' and pullin' at your reiatsu."

He stumbles, almost falls, and his voice continues, slurred, indistinct, "Had me calling him sir..."

Matsumoto steadies him as he sways, eases him down into the dirt. "You did fine." she reassures, her face uncharacteristically somber.

She stands, turns to the other two who had answered the call for reinforcement with her. "Anything?" she asks. "Other than descriptors. We have plenty of those. The hair is distinct enough, combine it with the spiritual pressure, and he should be visible from a ways off."

Her fifth seat lifts his zanpakuto. "I got him, I think." he says. The blade is bloody. "Pure luck, but I felt resistance. And there is the blood." he lifts his sword higher as if in proof, adding hesitantly, "I guess?"

"That's a pretty sure bet, Hirako." Matsumoto says warmly, smiling at him. Hirako has confidence issues, but great instincts. "Well done." She looks around, places her hands on her hips and sighs. "Let's get these men to the Fourth, and make our report. Sound the alarm, I guess?"

Yoruichi senses it the moment Ichigo enters the seireitei. The previously muted feel of his reiatsu flares, all the sharper for her having lost her previous acclimation to it. It announces his presence to all and sundry, and she turns her head towards it like a flower towards a sun, or, in a better analogy, like a predator tracking prey, sharp, edged.

Well. Let's see how the plan goes.

The captain commander opens his eyes, for all the world as if he had just woken up from a nap. He senses... potential approaching. The last time he felt this much potential, he had trained two students. Both of whom had been captains for centuries now. He pushes himself up, walking stick in hand.

Soi-fon senses something. Everything. But her duty isn't obvious threats. Confident it's being handled, she returns to her reports. And in doing so, fails to register the silent presence, threading her way through the chaos, ever closer to her goal.

Gin ... smiles. Gin always smiles. It's when he stops smiling that things get... bad. Gin smiles and goes to report to Captain Aizen. Gin is (a snake, waiting to be clasped to the breast of the man he hates) a good dog.

Unohana is busy, her hands only heal, now. Nevertheless her head turns, and she says softly, "Isane." It's enough. Isane will meet the wounded.

Aizen's eyes widen for the fraction of an instant.

Byakuya is kneeling, kneeling at the altar to Hisana. When he stands, he feels stiff, as if he's been kneeling there an eternity. The boy, (rash, human, mistake) is here. Inevitably the boy will come to him. He settles in for a long wait.

Komamura wonders. He is waiting for Tousen, when he sees him emerge in a hurry, brushing off Komamura brusquely. He heads towards the Fifth's baracks'. Komamura felt the presence, of course he did. He just doesn't believe it is anything to worry about yet. And why Aizen?

Shunsui and Ukitake are together. They're always together. More often these days since the method of Rukia Kuchiki's execution was announced. The reiatsu is impressive, but only relevant if it factors into their plans. Distraction, chaos- all good.

Kaname is (a traitor) loyal. Kaname goes to Aizen, brushing of Komamura when he tries to stop him.

Toshiro sends Rangiku out, and paces, worrying. He always worries. The moment he feels the burgeoning spiritual pressure, he leaves the offices at his fastest 'step. Rangiku is in trouble, and, annoying as she is, she is his lieutenant.

Kenpachi is reiatsu-blind. The Eleventh has ended up reiatsu blind to a man, (except maybe Yumichika) due to over-exposure to the force of nature that is Kenpachi Zaraki. Nobody stirs a step.

Ripples spread outwards in the still, stagnating, murky pond from the point of contact. The depths are as yet untouched.

Hey guys!

Here's to you IamAdisco. I was going to answer your review, then it occurred to me that you might appreciate an update more. So here. You gave me the final push to write this already. Thanks for your review! Thanks for calling me brilliant, your words made my day, which wasn't going that well. Some all out flattery feels nice sometimes... (If you could tell me what made you cry...)

For everybody else, I edited in a plot point earlier, which shouldn't be obvious, (or maybe is, in which case...) for a while.

I am bad at updating, and if that causes you grief (It feels pretentious to assume my lack of updating can cause someone grief...) (too many ellipses...) I'm sorry. But, although I know the general shape of the story, In the end, I expect my fingers to carry me through this thicket. But sometimes they refuse to cooperate.

I'm going to be a year older on the 18th. That's kinda cool, isn't it?

Hija