Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ For The Love of a Friend ❯ Fighting for a Friend ( Chapter 25 )

 

Fighting for a Friend

 

“I'll die fighting. That's the only way for the 11th Division Captain or any man to die,” Zaraki said roughly. “When Matsumoto dies, I'll follow.”

 

Toshiro felt like killing the man without any further discussion. How dare he admit that his wife was dying, or that he was responsible for her death? He should be fighting to keep her alive as hard as he could instead of accepting what was happening so easily. In addition there was this constant chatter about fighting and death and cutting people. He wondered how his lieutenant felt about the talk about bloodshed, but then, from some comments he'd overheard he wasn't sure they'd had a chance to talk much. All the same, he wasn't married to the man or even friends with the lunatic, so he didn't have to listen to him.

 

“You mean `if'. She's not going to freaking die, asshole,” Toshiro said pulling his zanpakuto out ready to fight.

 

“Yes she will, pipsqueak,” Zaraki roared and his reiatsu soared again pulling Matsumoto's with it, just in time. “Accept it, just as you accept your death.”

 

Did Zaraki understand that the surges of his reiatsu were keeping his wife alive? Every time she faltered, his rage peaked and pulled hers away from the shadow of death. If that was the case, did it mean he had to keep the man angry or cause a rise in his ire to coincide with Matsumoto's troughs? But the man was doing it instinctively. He might not know he was keeping his wife alive by his erratic anger, but he was. Toshiro realised he had been right; the key to keeping Matsumoto alive was her husband, but this was the weirdest idea he'd had presented to him. What was worse, he'd thought of this and no one had suggested it to him. If someone else had told him, he would have looked at them carefully to see if they were joking, and then he would have tried to confine the person, for their own safety, of course. The suggestion smacked of some of the off the wall ideas he'd heard about in the human world. Damn those people were gullible, believing in vampires, werewolves, zombies, aliens and all manner of strange hostile creatures while they ignored the Hollows and ghosts that swarmed their world. He'd even seen some thing about a film which featured vampires that glowed in the sunlight. How believable was that?

 

But the fact remained; he had to maintain the man's rage to keep the reiatsu sufficiently powerful that it could continue pulling Matsumoto away from the finality of death.

 

His reply to this man wasn't going to be kind. Kindness would be misplaced and misinterpreted. “No. No, I bloody won't. If you hadn't married her she wouldn't be dying now,” Toshiro could not reign in the anger that he felt. Words he'd never intended to say were now coming from his mouth and he didn't care. At this moment he hated the man towering over him for his interference in his comfortable life. Sure Matsumoto made him do most of the work, but she made him laugh and cared for him. Heaven preserve him from a lieutenant like Nanao or Soi's lieutenant. Out of the two, he'd prefer Nanao. At least she had momentary phases when she seemed like a person who could see past some of the rigours of the Seireitei but he didn't like her.

 

The damage done to Matsumoto he had sensed earlier when he was with Soi was extensive and he wanted some answers. What could have prompted such savagery? Though he was repelled by Ichimaru it was hard to for him to accept that he'd assaulted his former lover with that much brutality. “How did she get so hurt? Who did that to her?” Toshiro had his suspicions, but he wanted facts.

 

“Who do you think? Aizen and Ichimaru. They hurt her. They were going to rape her while she was dying. Aizen, that scum bastard whoreson traitor, was going to rape her again,” the words were wrung from the man as if he were unwilling to utter them. “They took her and harmed her and then they were going to force themselves into her.” Zaraki's pain was evident and Toshiro saw the memory had saddened the man almost beyond bearing but the rage burned even higher. “Why didn't you keep her safe?” The man, mad with rage and blame yelled, squinting savagely at his `brother' captain.

 

“You tried to get her moved to your Division. You told me she'd be safer with you. She wasn't,” Toshiro screamed back at the man. Why did he have to bear this culpability when all of them had failed her? They had all watched, drunk or drugged or whatever. Only Yachiru had tried to help. Would the damn guilt ever fade? He was sure the man had said something important about Aizen and Matsumoto, but the emotional state he was in forced him to respond to the accusation. He'd work it out later.

 

His foe's shoulders sagged. “You think I don't know that?” Zaraki was circling him now, looking for an opening. His eyes had narrowed, but the pain he was feeling was clearly etched on his face.

 

Toshiro moved too trying to find a place where he could slip his blade through the guard and punish this arrogant bully. He had to keep him angry. Matsumoto's reiatsu faded again and he slashed at Zaraki who grunted in rage and aimed a blow which went wide.

 

“I've killed her twice over.” Zaraki continued. It seemed a strange admission which almost smacked of self pity for all the anger in his voice and person. What was this? Give in to indulgent emotions day? If he started crying, Toshiro would have a fit of hysterics or a tantrum or he'd run screaming into the nearest sake house and stay there until he didn't feel anything or recall his name. That would be a comfortable place to be.

 

“Just listen to the crap you're uttering. You're full of it, aren't you Zaraki? Well, old man, that's my lieutenant you're dismissing and I won't accept her death or anyone else's. You shouldn't accept it either. The deaths stop here, now,' Toshiro yelled at the man rousing his worst fears that he was still trying to deny. The situation was suffocating and he wanted out of it.

 

“After she dies, what's it matter?” The voice was heavy and final. Had the stupid bastard already given up? He couldn't let him give up. He had to be furious and pumping out the spirit energy.

 

Toshiro stopped trying to look for an opening. “What in the name of hell are you doing? Do you want to fight or are you looking for an excuse to let me kill you? I don't want to discuss the meaning of life,” he sneered. The man had to snap out of it. From fiercely angry to savagely depressed in less than 60 seconds? Was he trying for a record? “Has lust made you weak or stupid? Don't you want revenge?”

 

Zaraki's face hardened. “It's not just fucking lust, jackass. Yeah. I want to rip those damned traitors to small, festering chunks of fish food. I want to make the old man pay for not being up to the job. I want the Seireitei to pay for not caring enough about the people who serve. And you didn't freaking protect my wife,” he said without raising his voice. The brooding evenness of the voice was even more threatening.

 

“Nor did you, or have you forgotten?” Toshiro taunted him in reply. All the anger he'd been feeling since he'd returned from the human world, anger at Soi, Yamamoto, Kiyone, Matsumoto, Zaraki, everyone, crystallised in this moment. He wanted his blade to gleefully slice through flesh and stop the normal rationalisation as he battled and tried to survive. If Soi hadn't infuriated him he'd still be sitting on the floor sunk in depression as he waited for his lieutenant to die. Had she goaded him into fury on purpose? “You're all talk, Zaraki. Matsumoto believed that you would protect her and save her and now you're coming apart piece by piece. What went first? Your balls or your guts?”

 

He was rewarded with an overwhelming flash of rage from the man standing opposite and was almost prepared for the quick movement as the man attacked. Toshiro was already in motion as Zaraki stabbed his sword at him.

 

“Hey, I thought you'd give me a chance to cut you first,” he jeered as he felt sword miss him.

 

“You want charity, Hitsugaya? I'm not in the mood,” Zaraki said and ran toward him, his sword held sideways across his body.

 

Toshiro judged his moment, leapt, using the blade of his opponents sword and then somersaulted over, ending up behind Zaraki. Unable to resist his impulse he kicked him connecting with the tendon behind his knee. “Too slow, old man. Too slow.”

 

Zaraki stagged under the kick but quickly turned and faced Toshiro. “Good move. A fracking challenge at last after all the thick weaklings I've faced!”

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Toshiro saw Ikkaku and Yumichika standing in defensive poses as if ready to join in. “Leave him,” he snarled with a need to warn them off. “Don't try to spoil my fun.”

 

They glanced at each other, their hands tightening on the handles of their zanpakuto's and for a moment he thought they might actually ignore his orders. Unbelievingly he looked at them, astonished that they would ignore a direct command from a Captain and then remembered the way they had acted in the human world. They had been independent of him, often waving aside his suggestions as they stated, “We're under Captain Zaraki's orders. Take it up with him,” before they went and did what they intended in the first place.

 

When he thought `they', he mainly meant Ikkaku because he'd noticed a noticeable lack of Yumichika on many occasions. Once he'd asked Ikkaku where his friend was. Ikkaku had shrugged. “He's not always with me and he doesn't tell me everything.” His eyes had flickered for a moment in confusion. It seemed that he would like to know the whereabouts of his friend.

 

But now, in the present, the astonishment in their faces only increased with the sound of Zaraki's ferocious laughter. “Don't interfere. Once I finish with him, I'll deal with both of you and demonstrate what bloodlust really is. Have you found the desire to kill at last, little Captain?”

 

The guy was talking crap and Toshiro resented it. “It was always there. Found the guts to believe your wife will survive, thug?” As he spoke he kicked hard at Zaraki's right shoulder.

 

Zaraki dodged to the left and with his fist punched at Toshiro's upper right chest connecting with a fierce blow. Toshiro found he was lifted off his feet and flying backwards until he hit the ground. Jumping to his feet he noticed he'd landed some distance and launched himself in the air, diving for Zaraki's head which he tried to kick in mid-air. His foot only connected with the ear, but is still rocked the larger Captain who had not expected the rapid reaction. Toshiro ended up once more behind the 11th Division Captain who spun around and landed a brutal kick on Toshiro's side just as he landed. Sprawling, he linked his foot under Zaraki's leg and caused him to lose balance, falling onto his knee.

 

Panting, they both spun and got to their feet as quickly as they could, facing each other once again. Rubbing his hand over his face he saw the large man smiling slightly. “You can dance as well as hit, kid.”

 

“Hit? I thought you preferred slicing. I don't dance and I'm not a kid, old man.” Toshiro noticed that some of the wounded were being surreptitiously moved from the battleground as he engaged Zaraki's attention.

 

“Good. We'll have more room to fight,” he thought.

 

“Do you want to fight or have a conversation?” he asked, wanting to inflame the man further and deflect his attention. He was sick of talking. His recent verbal exchanges had produced more problems than solutions. The roar of blood in his ears was drowning out all that noise in his mind and made it easier to believe that Matsumoto could survive and the traitors defeated. The pounding even covered any thoughts of Soi.

 

“What do you think? Should I order some tea to go with the chat? Or would you like some finger sandwiches? Of course I fucking want to fight. Come on. Come close and see if you can cut me,” Zaraki jibed back his face breaking into a reluctant but savage grin.

 

“Cut you?” Toshiro pretended to think about it and then began running full pelt at Zaraki who had seen what he was doing and he began to run as well. Their blades clashed as they met. The force nearly knocked Toshiro off his feet, but he bent his knees and dug his toes into the ground, forcing his body to stay forward against the weight of the other man, while the force of the blow flowed through his body.

 

Not giving him time to recover, Zaraki pulled his blade back and again aimed at Toshiro. Almost off balance from the sudden withdrawal of pressure and unwilling to take another full blow like that front on, he dodged slightly to one side and then slid back to his original position, watching amazed as Zaraki corrected his swing to follow the small changes of location. He had to bring his sword up with both hands, one clutching the blade to withstand the blow. Again his bones felt the tremor of the blow and he shuddered feeling his feet sink into the ground. He swayed and knew that another full strength blow would knock him to the ground.

 

“Shit, kid. Who taught you to fight? That's a fucking stupid defensive move. Could cut off your hand. You're using your katana like a moron instead of a fighter.” The tone of Zaraki's voice surprised him. Instead of the anger and derision he'd heard until now, there seemed to be a trace of instruction, almost as if the man wanted to correct his bad habits.

 

The observation made his anger rise. He'd fought the Arrancar and defeated them. He'd graduated top of his class in weapons from the Academy and this man dared to tell him he was a bad fighter! Fuck, this loser couldn't even bankai and he was daring to criticise the youngest captain ever appointed in the Gotei 13. “What would you know? You're old and slow and believe any stupid lie you've been told.”

 

“Which lie?” the words erupted from Zaraki as he cut at Toshiro's feet.

 

Toshiro seeing the angle of the swing managed to jump, just in time holding his blade protectively under his feet. As he anticipated, Zaraki angled the blade up and it would have cut upwards and between his legs, but the blow from the blade pushed him further in the air and he landed on a nearby roof, landing heavily and uncomfortably. He felt his knee adjust to the impact and knew that it was now weakened, but he couldn't show it. Later, when this was over he'd get it examined. “All the lies. The lies from Kurotsuchi; the lies from Ichimaru and Aizen; the lies you tell yourself. It's almost like you want Matsumoto to die. ”

 

The reaction was unexpected. Zaraki stood still and didn't even look at him. Taking advantage of the lull, Toshiro rubbed his knee, trying to stimulate the blood flow to the shocked muscle. It wouldn't fix it, but anything could help if he had to rely on two legs to continue this conflict. Any moment he expected to find Zaraki facing off against him, trying to punish him for speaking the way he did.

 

“It's true,” Zaraki sighed.

 

The feeling of disbelief washed over him at the quiet admission and he couldn't hide the astonishment. Which part was true? “Which part?” he asked before his rational mind could intercede.

 

“All of it. If she lives, I'll disappoint her and she'll reject me because I failed her. If she dies I have an excuse to give up.”

 

There was a seconds silence and Toshiro found he was laughing. After the reaction of everyone, the man who had to most to lose was talking himself into believing it was the outcome he desired.

 

The dip in Matsumoto's spirit pressure awoke him to reality. He had to mock the man and goad him back into full fury instead of this stupid mood he'd sunk into.

 

“Been reading Shakespeare much?” he jeered at the 11th Division Captain only to be met by a blank look.

 

“Huh?” A power surge upward dragged Matsumoto's reiatsu above the plateau into which it had been easing.

 

“Trying to be the mournful Dane or the homicidal Scot?” Toshiro elucidated. Surely he should get it. The guy must have been reading some stuff about self deluded fools who either couldn't make up their minds, or decided they were responsible for every action around them. A bit like he'd been feeling before Soi had come and insulted him. Once again he wondered about that particular interchange, but an answer from the man standing on the ground distracted him.

 

“I have no fucking idea what you're talking about, Hitsugaya,” Zaraki said, the questioning frown on his forehead deepening. “Why are we tossing words at each other when we could be fighting? I thought you would have tried bankai by now? You're doing a piss poor job of fighting me.”

 

Toshiro almost staggered as the reiatsu urged around the man. Now he blocked it as he decided that it was distracting his attention from the fight and the action of provoking the man to anger. It had crossed his mind, especially in light of how physically strong the man was, added to his spirit pressure that he should use his bankai, but he wanted to distract the man as long as possible. Aside from that he was enjoying the contest. They guy was a good fighter and had some techniques he hadn't encountered. Why didn't Captains fight each other to learn how to improve their abilities? It seemed like a major oversight or the fact that Captains weren't encouraged to continue their training. But each of them held their abilities closely and hardly shared them, acting like it was a sign of dishonour that they needed to draw a weapon. The Gotei 13 were meant to be fighters, not dilettantes who sat around eating, drinking and being showered with flower petals. Some of the Captains who had survived the longest, regularly voiced their distaste for combat, but why was that? Was that one of the reasons some of the newer captains, like himself, Zaraki and Soi had been appointed? Because they had no fear of reaching for their weapons and using them as necessary?

 

There had been some mutterings that the old man had brought him in to be the eventual replacement as the leader of the Seireitei, but it could be any one of them: Soi, Zaraki or Toshiro. They had mostly abstained from the political games played by the other captains and had mainly kept within their Divisions, not forming any major alliances, until recently. Despite his intentions he was now allied with 2nd and 11th Divisions. And he was even forming ties with two of the longest serving captains. Was this intentional?

 

Anyway, it seemed unlikely that the Captain-General would willingly give up his power while all the events were swirling around them, occupying their time and dividing their forces. For a long time nothing new appeared to be happening, while underneath the surface the tensions were brewing, causing a tempest which overset the world and reformed it anew.

 

The time spent meditating this way almost caused his undoing. Zaraki had leapt on the roof and with a hard light in his eyes was observing Toshiro. “Your guard is full of holes and I could have cut you twenty different ways while you had your nap,” the man told him.

 

“Then why didn't you?” Toshiro sneered back, not even slightly scared. The man was either playing with him and not intending to kill him, or he had another agenda. “You're like all the others. Full of words, not actions.”

 

“Why didn't I kill you as you stood there like a stooge? Because the true test would be to fight against your bankai and win, what else? I know all the other crap eaters look down on me because I can't bankai, but what the fuck? I beat Tosen's bankai, which was the most brainless bankai I could damn well imagine. Sensory deprivation? Suited that mound of rectal tissue.”

 

“I don't want to bankai, not this time. I'm only fighting you after all,” Toshiro fired back. “I use it when I face a challenge.”

 

The hiss of indrawn breath momentarily drew his attention to Zaraki's two friends. They were staring at each other as if they couldn't believe that Toshiro had dared to be unimpressed by their captain.

 

Amazingly, Zaraki laughed. “Want me to take off my eye-patch do you? Is that what this is all about? You know I didn't remove it for Tosen, but I did for Ichigo. Fancy yourself, don't you.”

 

“At least I have a bankai, loser and I don't have to wear an eye patch because I'm so ugly that children cry when they see me,” Toshiro was really scraping trying with the last insult.

 

“Your lieutenant, my wife likes me, no matter how I look,” Zaraki said and then paused. “My beloved wife. Those animals touched her. They had her naked and bleeding and damaged. Every inch of her body is covered in bruises. Aizen was trying to look like me, but he looked like a freaking insane thug. She was hurting so badly.” The memory affected him and once again his reiatsu pulsed with his fury, forcing him to act and Toshiro braced for the attack.

 

Zaraki feinted to the left, his coat sweeping behind him as he put the weight on his instep, obviously ready to use his speed to attack, but then stopped suddenly and turned his head slightly. It wasn't like he was listening to something, but sensing something that meant more to him than a battle.

 

Preparing his defence, the action nonplussed the 10th Division Captain. Was this another ruse to show him how he could be easily distracted by the actions of another and leaving himself open to an attack that would end in the spilling of blood and the shattering of bone? “Don't try that trick on me. I'm not that gullible,” Toshiro said only to notice that the man wasn't listening to him.

 

Something had changed. There was a difference that he'd been blocking out of his consciousness until now. Fighting Zaraki had helped him focus on other than the thready, tenuous presence that indicated Matsumoto's continuing existence, but just slightly. Zaraki's reiatsu had continued to surge, pulling Matsumoto's with it, but now, and it was hardly noticeable, Matsumoto's reiatsu had strengthened. Not by much, but a little.

 

“The drugs kicked in at long bloody last. It's about frigging time,” Zaraki said under his breath.

 

Toshiro was preparing to ask him what he meant when Soi suddenly appeared in front of them. “Captain Zaraki, Captain Unohana has requested that you return to 4th Division immediately. She has a theory that your presence may help your wife,” she said without looking at Toshiro. He noticed that the lieutenant of 3rd Division was following Soi closely, looking as morose as always. Looking at the man was enough to bring anyone down. He only managed his company when he was with Matsumoto who would tease Izuru until he smiled and broke from his normal brooding. What was happening there? Why was he helping Soi deliver the message? It only required one person.

 

Despite his need, Toshiro gazed at Soi, hoping that it appeared a disinterested look. Seeing her suddenly like this again made him wonder what she was doing. Why she appeared to be directing matters so carefully. Why had she forced him to anger and then directed him to fight the 11th Division Captain? Why had she appeared here and now with this message that brought faint hope and a depressing companion?

 

All the same, the hope affected him like a long drink of sake. He felt light headed and positive, that perhaps this long day, this awful experience of feeling like he was on a death watch had passed. He wanted to laugh, kiss Soi and make Izuru laugh.

 

Due to the inebriated feeling he made rash decisions, determined to act on them as soon as possible. He'd try once more with Soi. He'd give her time to get over what ever was irritating her and then he'd approach her once more. Once he explained that he didn't want to marry Momo, maybe they'd have a chance to talk to each other. If Matsumoto survived it proved that miracles could happen and it might indicate he had a chance with Soi. She was the person sent to advise Zaraki, she'd urged Toshiro to fight him; maybe she wasn't as indifferent as she acted.

 

Zaraki's face had changed. The dark despair gave way to hope and without meaning to, affected by the euphoria of the infusion of hope, Toshiro said something to the man, very quietly, all the while knowing it was a mistake and far too revealing, but he felt the need to celebrate Matsumoto's recovery by voicing a stupid hope to the man.

 

Nodding toward Soi he whispered, “Make me a promise. Our kids will play together when they're old enough.”

 

Zaraki cast a quick glance at Soi who had turned and was leaving a look of dawning comprehension on his face. “What? You and her? Fuck. I'd never guess it.”

 

“Nor does she and it probably won't happen,” Toshiro knew it now, but for some reason he stubbornly kept hoping. “Don't tell anyone.”

 

“Who'd believe me? I'm not interested in other people's fucking problems. I've got to get to Matsumoto, now. I can't see why you chose her, but it'll be hard, bloody hard. Make sure you invite me to the wedding,” Zaraki said with his mouth curved in an unbelieving smile then he turned and ran, faster than Toshiro could remember seeing. He almost blurred as he vanished from sight in the direction of 4th Division, anticipation on his face as he went to provide support and whatever else he could to his wife, leaving Toshiro gazing after him feeling a mixture of jealousy and relief.

 

 

A.N.

 

`Given Up' Linkin Park

`Matches, Don't Play!!!' Ali Shaheed Muhammad

`All Alone' Gorillaz

 

Finished it, within the week. A fight scene. Yeah! Gee, they're so rare in Bleach these days.

 

`Given Up' was a big inspiration for this chapter.

 

Thanks to:

 

Bastion: Think about `triggers'. There are a lot of triggers for Nanao in the last chapter.

Mors': Pin Toshiro to a wall? Maybe with a banana?

ldymoon: More bananas? I feel for Nanao and you'll find out why soon enough.

 

For the reviews.

 

Review. I like reviews.