Isshin’s power was low as ever, but Yoruichi had no trouble finding where he was puttering in the clinic supplies. The crashes and mutters were enough to give a ninja away.
Target: shoulders. Pounce!
Isshin’s head didn’t thump quite hard enough into the top of the cabinet; he was sputtering curses, but not passed out on the floor. Good enough. “Now that I have your attention-”
If she hadn’t been expecting human speed, she would have dodged it. But she’d been visiting Isshin off and on ever since he’d crashed into Karakura. She knew he was powerless. Worse than powerless; zanpakutou shattered and destroyed, a gaping hole in a shinigami’s soul that no merely human love could ever ease. She didn’t mind that he’d tried with Masaki, really; though protecting three youngsters of shinigami blood was a little worrisome at times….
Isshin had her by the scruff of the neck. And he did not look happy. “How?” she demanded.
“I’ve told you before; I’ll tell you again. No pranks in the medical supplies, Yoruichi.” Carefully, Isshin closed the cabinet. “Stuff needs to stay sterile, and it needs to be intact. Could be someone’s life if it’s not.” He set her on the tiled floor. “And I thought you were already complaining about how.”
“Ichigo?” She felt at Isshin’s reiatsu – and there was pressure there, hidden under Kisuke’s wards. “That’s impossible! Kisuke checked you; he said there wasn’t a chance your power could be restored without a healer of Unohana’s caliber.”
Isshin grinned at her, not entirely friendly. “Or just a heck of a lot of power, and a healing spell that got lucky.”
“Ichigo?” The boy hadn’t even died yet. He couldn’t have that level of power.
And… Isshin wouldn’t have grabbed her if he weren’t trying to distract her. If she’d tracked him down, he knew she wanted something.
And he’s pretty sure it’s more than a saucer of milk, Yoruichi thought wryly. “You are teaching the children who they are. Just not what.”
Isshin looked bemused. “I am, huh?”
“Don’t play games with this, Isshin! If they don’t behave properly when they meet their relatives-”
“The were-cat’s going to lecture me on behaving properly?” Isshin snorted. “When’s the last time you played by the rules, Lady Shihouin?”
“I broke the rules after I had my position,” Yoruichi shot back. “Think! They’ll wind up in Rukongai with power and without a clue. If they try to press their rightful claim-”
“They don’t have a rightful claim,” Isshin cut her off. “I’m dead, Yoruichi. The insane traitor who attacked blameless Captain Aizen. Remember? Struck from the clan rolls and everything.” A wry smile. “So stop worrying about it. They don’t need tea ceremonies and what noble clan owes who a debt from ten centuries back. They need karate and good sense and old-fashioned, never-say-die, Rukongai brawling. ‘Cause they’re not nobles, Yoruichi. They’re Rukongai brats – my Rukongai brats – and they’ll make their own way up the ranks. Count on it.”