Yoruichi’s face had neither her serene mask nor her manic grin, and that more than anything else told Will there was something seriously wrong. She stood on the dock next to the
, which had just unloaded the latest crop of drowned sailors into Soul Society.
“Hello, Yoruichi,” Will said, and added nothing more.
Usually he’d have followed up with an invitation aboard for a drink of rum, although he’d never developed Jack’s love for it; today he just waited.
She’d tell him what was bothering her or not, and there wasn’t anything he could do that would influence her decision either way.
“Hello, Captain Turner,” she replied. Will frowned further at the formality but simply continued to wait.
She must have made up her mind, because she appeared onboard so fast he didn’t see her move. They stared at one another in silence on the
“I don’t know what to do,” Yoruichi growled at last.
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