Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Resilience ❯ Part VI ( Chapter 6 )

Part VI

 

Matsumoto felt her limbs go numb the moment the door closed behind the three captains. But before she could hit the floor, Renji was there to support her.

 

“Ran-chan…!”

 

She distantly felt his muscles trembling from the strain, and part of her told her that he wasn't yet at full strength and that he shouldn't be doing this for her. Part of her didn't care. Everything was so muddled in her mind that she didn't even realize that she'd been moved until she saw Orihime waving a hand in front of her face as she sat slumped on the couch. Orihime looked worried, but her expression brightened even as Matsumoto became aware of what was going on.

 

“Welcome back, Rangiku-san,” Orihime said with a smile. “We were worried about you there for a bit - you had quite a nasty shock.”

 

“Wh-Wha-” Matsumoto stuttered, blinking, but couldn't seem to find words through the disorientation. Had she passed out? She saw Yumichika leaning heavily against a the wall at the entrance to the living room looking pale and worried, and Renji was right behind Orihime with a concerned scowl. But she was still sitting up. No - no, she hadn't fainted, but she might as well have, she decided as she remembered why it was she was in this state.

 

“They took him!” she breathed, a thousand scenarios of what they were going to do to Hitsugaya when they found out that he'd remembered fluttering through her mind. “They know… They know. Oh gods, he is in so much trouble.”

 

“Damn it, Ran-chan,” Renji snapped suddenly, surprising her entirely. “I knew you two were hiding something from the rest of us. It's about damn time you tell us what the hell is going on.”

 

“I can't, I… I-”

 

She'd heard rumors of what happened to Shinigami who remembered, who broke past the seals that held their memories behind closed doors. They either went mad, or Yamamoto-jii cracked them. She couldn't breathe, couldn't even form the words in her mind to explain what she was imagining. She didn't want to.

 

Suddenly, a loud slap echoed sharply in the room, and Matsumoto felt a hand-shaped burning patch on her cheek. Bewildered, she looked up as the stars from the impact cleared from her vision. She saw Rukia standing there, hand raised for another strike, eyes sparkling with fury - the only feature in focus. She hadn't even noticed when Rukia returned from school. Matsumoto blearily saw Renji and Orihime standing behind the shorter Shinigami, stark surprised etched into their expressions.

 

“Get yourself together, fukutaichou!” Rukia snapped. “You've been given a task, and you're going to go through with it, if you want to help Hitsugaya-taichou. Get a grip.”

 

Matsumoto's vision narrowed, coming back into sharp focus as Rukia's hand descended again. This time, Matsumoto caught the smaller girl's wrist in her hand mid-descent. Realization struck swiftly, and the blonde vice-captain dropped Rukia's wrist as if it burned her hand. She had to get herself under control. This was not what Hitsugaya had asked her to do with that look he'd given her on his way out the door.

 

She had to take charge.

 

Rukia smiled. “Welcome back, Matsumoto-fukutaichou.”

 

Matsumoto nodded seriously in return, a silent thank-you for the wake-up call, but she didn't smile. Instead, she stood and regarded the other three people in the room with a grave expression, an equally silent apology for her lapse. Renji's grin was feral as he nodded, and Orihime - though looking rather perplexed and confused - seemed to gather some determination as well.

 

“Hitsugaya-taichou will not be back for a little while. I'm afraid we'll have to expect the worst in that situation,” Matsumoto began, “but that doesn't mean we can let our guards down. Aizen might already know we don't have a captain present and could easily take advantage of the situation. We need to be extremely careful.”

 

Matsumoto fixed a sharp gaze on Orihime, who nodded in understanding. She was incredibly vulnerable now, and would not be allowed to stay in the apartment alone, nor could she leave the apartment without an escort. It was an unspoken rule before, but it was even more necessary now with the way the situation was unfolding.

 

And suddenly, Matsumoto remembered she'd left the sukiyaki on the stove.

 

“Shit!” she exclaimed, eyes widening as she turned to go back to the kitchen.

 

“Oh, the sukiyaki? Already took care of the rest of it,” Renji said mildly, stepping in Matsumoto's path. “It's on the table.”

 

Matsumoto let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. Really, she needed to get a grip. The task ahead wasn't going to be easy, but she was pretty sure she was up to it. Luckily, she had plenty of support available to back her up.

 

--

 

“What the fuck do you mean that Hitsugaya was taken? And how the hell do you know this?” Ichigo exclaimed, spittle flying from his mouth in rage as he stood toe-to-toe with the Vaizard who had trained him.

 

Shinji sighed. “I saw it, you moron. Your Soul Society Shinigami buddies took him back home. I know Aizen wants the girl you guys have under your care - Inoue Orihime, right? - and that you guys don't have enough power to keep him from getting what he wants right now.”

 

Ichigo grit his teeth, but he knew, damn it, that Shinji was probably right. He looked away and took a step back, removing his hands from the front of Shinji's shirt. Shinji grunted, straightening the collar on his school uniform.

 

“That's what I thought. Now I normally couldn't care less about those damned Shinigami and Soul Society's ridiculous rules and political problems,” Shinji began with a bored tone, “but I can't deny that those guys - and you - are taking care of precious property. It would be in all of our best interests if Inoue didn't end up with Aizen. I'm here to offer my services, at least until the short captain gets back.”

 

Ichigo raised an eyebrow; he honestly hadn't expected any help from the Vaizards unless they got something in return for it. Like his loyalty, for instance. According to them, he was already a Vaizard himself… but he had never outright pledged loyalty to the group of them. And with that thought and the way Shinji was looking at him with that damned arrogant smirk, he had a feeling he was being baited.

 

“You want something from me,” he stated.

 

Shinji's grin spread. “I suppose you know me better than I thought you did, boy. Impressive.”

 

“What do you want?”

 

“You already know the answer to that question.”

 

Ichigo paused for a moment. He couldn't deny that they probably did need help from the Vaizards, but like hell he was officially going to take orders from Shinji. Not now, at least.

 

“Hell no,” he snarled, turning and walking back to the apartment, away from the annoying, grinning Vaizard.

 

“Now, now, Ichigo. Be reasonable. You and I both know that this is a pretty serious situation.”

 

“We can take care of the problem ourselves, with or without Hitsugaya-taichou present,” he said over his shoulder, with a dismissive wave.

 

“Would you be willing to compromise?”

 

Ichigo whirled with a raised eyebrow. “What the hell kind of offer would you be able to make that I could possibly want?”

 

If it was possible, Shinji's grin widened even further.

 

“Besides our help? Information, of course.”

 

Ichigo's eyes widened in surprise. “What kind of information?”

 

--

 

Any hopes that Hitsugaya had initially had for a fair hearing were dashed the moment he set foot in Yamamoto's office. Though he hadn't been part of Soul Society - Seireitei, for that matter - to ever have witnessed something like this, he had heard about it before. He had heard it only through the most terrible rumors he'd ever known, and suddenly his resolve began to crumble before his very eyes.

 

He was in deep trouble.

 

Apparently, Yamamoto-taichou had redecorated since the last time he'd been in the old man's office. The place looked more like a lab now, and with a sick feeling crawling in his stomach, he saw Kurotsuchi's grinning face somewhere in the small group of captains present. Damn but he hated that man. Unohana-taichou was also there, looking highly displeased. Ukitake visibly shifted uncomfortably in front of him. Panic welled in his chest, but he clamped down on it with all his strength. This was no ordinary meeting, and he knew he probably was the reason behind it. Everyone was staring at him expectantly.

 

“Hitsugaya-kun,” Yamamoto greeted. “Please, come in. I think you know why I've asked you to come, and that you realize you are in violation of Shinigami code.”

 

Hyourinmaru stirred at the unspoken challenge in the older captain's voice. Neither the dragon nor its wielder wanted to be here right now. It was dangerous - this, his home, the people he trusted; all now seen as potential hazards. The world faded to black and white, battle vision, blazingly bright streaks flashing across his vision and he thought he saw the room filling with smoke and everything in the room distorted into dark beasts like those from Hueco Mundo…

 

“Take a seat.”

 

His vision cleared, but his mind did not. Blankly, he obeyed the order, the panic beginning to find its way back into his chest, squeezing until he thought he was short of breath.

 

“Calm down,” the dragon's voice ordered.

 

I can't—I…

 

“Calm down, or you're going to make this worse.”

 

“Hitsugaya-kun,” Yamamoto said neutrally, snapping Hitsugaya's attention back to the present. “I think you know exactly why you're here.”

 

Hitsugaya closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Yamamoto-jii wanted an answer, but he couldn't give that up yet. Perhaps he still had a chance. That thought, at least, helped calm him some, and he felt oxygen return to his lungs. Opening his eyes, he remained stoically still, even in the serious face of the elderly captain.

 

“That's better. Think this through, Toushirou.”

 

“You do realize that you are in direct violation of our code,” Yamamoto said after he realized Hitsugaya wasn't going to easily give him answers. “This is a problem. We are in a tight situation; we can't afford to have dissention in our ranks now. Your full cooperation on this matter would be greatly appreciated.”

 

Hitsugaya said nothing and looked away. This was not going to end well, not at all. Yamamoto was a powerful Shinigami; he had founded the Gotei Thirteen. A sudden stirring of extremely powerful reiatsu only gave him a split-second warning before he felt the full force of a binding kidoh envelop him, jerking his arms sharply behind his back. A soft cry of surprise escaped through his gritted teeth, and he could faintly hear Ukitake protesting from the side. Otherwise, he remained silent; he wouldn't be able to speak anyway, not with a binding kidoh restricting his every movement. Yama-jii must be mad if he thought this would work.

 

“Hitsugaya-taichou, if you do not answer my questions fully and truthfully, I will have no choice but to exact the punishment laid out in the code,” Yamamoto said in a warning tone. “You should be able to speak - that was a targeted kidoh, and will not affect that ability.”

 

Damn old man already reading my mind, huh? Hitsugaya narrowed his eyes.

 

“I want you to tell me exactly what you remember.”

 

Hitsugaya pursed his lips, leveling a stubborn glare at the older captain. Why would he want to know, if all he was going to do was erase what was there? This was absolutely pointless; the result would be the same no matter what he did.

 

“I don't know what you're talking about.” There. He kept his voice from shaking.

 

“You're not making this any easier, Toushirou-kun,” Yama-jii said, an undercurrent of warning in his even tone. “Kurotsuchi-taichou, perhaps you can help him recall a little.”

 

Kurotsuchi smirked, the black paint around the edges of his mouth going wide around the growing grin. Hitsugaya nearly didn't hold back the sudden urge to squirm as the scientist approached him. He knew well that Kurotsuchi was borderline insane - all the man cared about was research and results, no matter what means he had to use to obtain them.

 

“Hitsugaya-kun,” Kurotsuchi greeted, pleased. “Please don't struggle; just relax and let the drug do its work, and you won't feel any pain.”

 

Like hell. Hitsugaya glared at him. He tensed anyway out of reflex as he felt Kurotsuchi's cold fingers brush the fabric of the layered haori at his throat, leaving him feel vulnerable - he couldn't turn his neck to see what the other captain was doing. With a sharp pinch and a small sting at the side of his neck - he hissed as he felt the needle go in - he found out soon enough. It was an almost sickening feeling to have the cool liquid slide smoothly under his skin, traveling throughout his body and numbing limbs and all feeling as it spread. His vision doubled and blurred; his eyelids felt like heavy weights, and thought he could see Unohana moving forward with an unnaturally infuriated look on her usually calm face when suddenly the world went black and white, and then faded to gray.

 

--

 

1876

 

There was a small path that diverged off the main road to the village, but it was hardly noticeable to those who didn't already know of its presence as it was nearly overgrown with long grass and weeds. The path led to a small clump of sakura trees and mossy boulders that surrounded a large pond. An old, half-rotted wooden bridge spanned the pond and through a fading orange torii and lead to an abandoned memorial shrine in honor of an ancient kami that supposedly protected the sakura trees in the grove, according to the stone marking next to it. Someone had cared enough about this grove to offer the god in protection of it a memorial in the hope that it would survive the seasons untouched.

 

At least it had survived the war, Murae Kazuki had decided when he'd first discovered the place. It was quiet, peaceful, as if time had somehow stopped at the edge of the grove and gave this small place a sacred atmosphere. Out of respect for the shrine - and out of habit ingrained by his proud samurai heritage - he always removed his sandals at the edge of the bridge when he came here. It was a safe haven to him, somewhere he could go to be alone where the bustle of the village and his home and the shop couldn't reach him. Whenever he needed to think, he somehow always found his way here.

 

This time, Kazuki found his way here after a frustrating fight with his father over the treatment of a customer that had requested a sword. Murae Masahiro had refused, saying that with the upcoming sword restrictions, there would be no need for one. Besides, he hadn't wanted to get in trouble for making it. Kazuki knew that was only an excuse, as there were no laws yet against crafting blades, only restrictions on carrying them. He'd said nothing. The customer had argued the exact same point anyway. Masahiro turned him out of the shop, muttering about peasants getting uppity now that there no longer was a samurai class.

 

And that, Kazuki knew, was the real reason behind his father's obstinate decision; he'd questioned his father, and ended up getting into a similar argument in which he'd stormed out of the shop on his own volition before his father could throw him out. That was at least two hours ago, if the sun's steadily sinking location was any indication of the time.

 

Kazuki sighed as he sat at the edge of the bridge, under the torii, knees tucked up under his chin. He had only been seven when the samurai class had been outlawed by the new government. He hardly remembered the `lofty life of a noble samurai', as his father seemed to refer to it as. All he remembered was the occasional argument between his mother and father that there wasn't enough food for their family, and that his father should argue with his overlord because he didn't bring in nearly enough ryo for the amount of land he was commanding.

 

But now that shouldn't matter - they were no longer samurai other than in heritage, and he was now the apprenticed son of a blacksmith who would follow in his father's trade. Gladly, as a matter of fact. If only his father would quit complaining about the lack of `honor' in their new line of business. As far as he was concerned, his father was a fool. They now had food, and his mother never argued with Masahiro on financial issues any more. Life was going well, and he only wished his father could see past his damned stubborn pride to realize that.

 

This is stupid, Kazuki decided once the sun began to set. The air was getting chillier, and the sakura branches rustled under a small breeze. It was time to head home; his mother would be worried, and his father would be even more infuriated if he missed dinner. Stretching his legs, he slowly got to his feet, offered a quick prayer to the sakura god in thanks for protecting the grove, then turned, walked across, the bridge, and slid his sandals on before he ran the rest of the way back to his home.

 

When he arrived at the gate that led to his family's home, he noticed his mother was waiting for him on the steps into the house with a worried look on her face.

 

“I'm home… mother?” he said uncertainly, approaching her cautiously.

 

“Kazuki, come inside, please,” his mother said curtly, with no word of greeting.

 

Gods, he must be in so much trouble - his mother had probably been told about the fight between him and his father, and was also likely very angry about it and the fact that he was late for dinner and came home with dirt and grime all over his face and arms from the shop and-

 

He realized upon entering the house after his mother, that his father was nowhere to be seen and that dinner was set only for two, not three. His father was nowhere to be seen, and when Kazuki had to think about it, he hadn't seen his father's sandals by the steps, either. His mother bid him to sit across from her, where the second dinner tray was sitting. He thanked her for the meal as he picked up his chopsticks, after his mother had done the same.

 

“Mother, where is—”

 

“Your father will not be back tonight,” his mother said, an angry tone clipping her words dangerously, “nor will he be back for quite some time.”

 

Kazuki wanted to ask where he'd gone, but knew better from his mother's expression than to ask right now. She would offer that information when she was ready. For now, the awkward silence bore down on Kazuki so heavily that he lost his appetite and could only pick at his food uncomfortably. After what seemed like an eternity - but could not have been more than a moment or so - his mother finally sighed and placed her chopsticks across the top of her barely-touched rice bowl. She was upset as well, then.

 

“Kazuki, you're going to need to mind the shop while your father's not here,” she said quietly, tone considerably softened. “I know you're more than capable, but if you need to hire someone else to help fill orders, you may do so.”

 

Kazuki nodded slowly, relieved that his mother wasn't angry with him, but worried that something had happened to his father. As much as he wanted to be glad his father wasn't there after their argument earlier in the afternoon, he couldn't help but feel a little guilty. Perhaps he'd pushed his father too far.

 

“There was a messenger in town today,” his mother said suddenly. Kazuki's interest piqued, and he set down his chopsticks to listen. “He claimed he was there on behalf of Saigo Takamori.”

 

Saigo Taka- Kazuki's heart sped up and skipped a beat. Saigo Takamori, the war hero, who was currently opposing the new Meiji government. Had his father really…?

 

“Your father was one of thirteen in this village who went with him today.”

 

Gods. Kazuki didn't know what to think of that news; he knew that Saigo had actively speaking out against the government's new policies on behalf of Japan's heritage, but he hadn't expected him to actually do anything about it. While he knew his father would feel vindicated about his samurai lineage - even, or especially, in death - this was a dangerous situation. What if the new government brought in the foreigners? Then what?

 

“Let me know of your decision soon, so I can make sure I budget properly,” his mother said.

 

The sake tasted bitter, but at least it washed down the remnants of the food that suddenly seemed to stick in his throat. For the first time in a long while, he didn't finish his meal that evening.

 

--

 

The room blurred and swirled back into focus, but Hitsugaya felt sick to his stomach and his head pounded mercilessly as if his brain was trying to beat its way out of his skull. His throat felt raw, as if he'd either been talking for far too long without a break, or as if he'd been screaming. Not sure what had just happened, he felt his heart hammer painfully within his ribcage as if it too wanted freedom.

 

Holyshitholyshitholyshit!

 

His ears were ringing, but he was sure he could hear voices murmuring around him and felt cold fingertips pressing against his face and forehead. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe.

 

“It's wearing off. Should I give him another dose?”

 

“Wait.” And then the old man's blurry, wrinkled face appeared in front of his line of sight. “Are you with us, Toushirou?”

 

He couldn't find the air to answer, so instead he glared as he panted, trying to catch his breath.

 

“You know, I don't appreciate being lied to, Toushirou,” Yama-jii continued, taking Hitsugaya's angered expression for what it was meant to be. “I know this is unpleasant, but this wouldn't be so bad if you'd just tell us.”

 

This wouldn't be so bad if your damned seals didn't break, old man, Hitsugaya thought angrily. After all, it wasn't his fault that he remembered all this in the first place. He wondered why Shinigami were punished for recalling something when a seal broke in circumstances beyond their control. And damn it, he was a captain. This was ridiculous, and now he was pissed.

 

“There's the Hitsugaya Toushirou I know,” the dragon said approvingly.

 

It took almost too much of an effort to bother speaking, but Hitsugaya managed to spit out a shaky, “A-And here I thought… we were shorthanded.”

 

Yama-jii frowned. “Kurotsuchi-taichou.”

 

“Yamamoto-taichou, wait!” Hitsugaya heard Unohana protest from behind him, but the cold fingers were already pinching his neck and he winced as he felt another sting at the side of his neck, and the gray world returned.

 

--

 

Ichigo hated Shinji's nasty grin with a passion. It meant he'd been snared; he'd been snared the moment he'd taken the bait and asked about it.

 

“Information on why your Hitsugaya-taichou is merely one of many pawns in this game,” Shinji replied casually, picking his ear with his pinky absently. “Oh, but you don't want to know about that, do you.”

 

Ichigo grit his teeth. Damned if Shinji already had a one-up on all of them in this situation. He must have known this for a while, and had been looking for just the right opportunity to nail him with it. But before he could open his mouth to reply, a rapidly approaching reiatsu cut him off.

 

“Kurosaki! What the hell are you doing? Kuchiki just called; we have to go back to the apartment, now.”

 

Ikkaku. “Damn it,” Ichigo hissed under his breath.

 

Shinji's smirk widened, but seemed a little more somber this time around. “I'll leave you to consider that for a while, Kurosaki Ichigo.” And then he vanished.

 

“Kurosaki, who-”

 

“Shut it, Baldy,” Ichigo snapped. “Let's go.”

 

Ikkaku gave him a strange look, but said nothing further as he headed towards the apartment. Ichigo sighed as he turned to follow, but tensed when he felt the itching feeling between his shoulder blades that told him Shinji was still watching him. Shuddering slightly - the Vaizards were damned creepy, he'd already decided - he ignored the feeling otherwise and hurried after Ikkaku with a quick shunpo.

 

--

 

This had gone way too far, and Ukitake knew he wasn't the only one in the room who was outraged by what was going on. Unohana was already in Yamamoto's face about the side effects of administering too much of the foreign drugs too quickly, and the fact that Hitsugaya's body was smaller - and therefore was more sensitive to the high dosage.

 

“With all due respect, sir, you're going to kill him at this rate!” she was yelling, and Ukitake couldn't help but agree as he watched Hitsugaya shudder and stare blankly across the room.

 

Although, he couldn't deny the fact that it was now painfully clear Hitsugaya had indeed somehow broken the seal on his memories, whether it was by accident or intentionally remained to be seen. Judging from the young captain's attitude, Ukitake had a sickening feeling that it wasn't Hitsugaya's doing.

 

Strange things were happening these days in Soul Society. Only days prior to the report that tipped Yamamoto off about Hitsugaya's returning memories, Komamura had been nearly put out of commission by a strange illness that caused hallucinations, and even with Unohana's skills, nothing seemed to help calm him. If Hitsugaya were to also be put out of commission…

 

Ukitake felt powerless, despite the fact that he had been rather confident in his own abilities. If he wasn't so ill himself, he would feel more secure about the encroaching problem of Arrancar reports. Aizen was making a rather bold move, and it clearly was becoming apparent just how deadly the situation was turning. Unlike Yamamoto, Ukitake felt that the need for strong manpower - especially captains and vice-captains, after so many of them had either been incapacitated by or had defected to Aizen's group - far outweighed the need to follow Soul Society's antiquated customs. And without a captain's presence guarding Orihime after the report of the attempted kidnapping on Aizen's part, Ukitake felt incredibly unsettled.

 

What was Yamamoto thinking?

 

“Just wipe his memory and be done with it, then!” Shunsui said angrily. Ukitake blinked, suddenly realizing that the other captain was now standing next to Unohana with an equally scathing scowl on his face. “This is pointless - you're going to put him out of commission, and we just can't afford that right now.”

 

Yamamoto's expression remained neutral - as always, damn it - and Ukitake really wished he could tell what the man had in mind with this ridiculous interrogation. Was it simply a warning to the rest of them? For what? Hitsugaya wasn't really at fault for breaking the code, was he? Ukitake noticed that even Mayuri had paused in his actions, as if they were all waiting for an answer from the old man, tension rising rapidly in the room like a too-tight rope at breaking point. A quiet whimper from Hitsugaya seemed to snap Yamamoto back into action.

 

“Kurotsuchi, please continue,” he said calmly.

 

Shunsui began to take a step forward in protest, but Unohana stuck out an arm in his way.

 

“Damn it,” Ukitake heard Shunsui hiss, and he couldn't agree more. This was out of hand, but they couldn't do anything about it just yet. Not until Yamamoto got whatever the hell it was he wanted out of the boy.

 

He only fervently hoped Yama-jii would get what he wanted before Hitsugaya cracked.

 

--

 

.to be continued in part VII.

 

--

 

My apologies for the delay on posting this chapter here. It's been up at Ffnet a while; I completely forgot I hadn't put it up here yet. So to anyone who might be reading it, uh... here you go? Haha.

 

As for Uniasus' question, for which the answer is actually somewhat simple: Yuri is a Hollow, and not a Shinigami. I've constructed a set of rules that apply only to Shinigami - those who have been selected to be part of the Seireitei ranks (as opposed to the other souls of Soul Society that dwell in Rukongai). This will become more apparent as the story progresses, I hope. And I also hope that this answers your question to satisfaction. ^^; Perhaps I should have clarified that sooner; I suppose I was hoping the story would speak for itself.

 

Anyway, thank you to the barest handful of you who have commented on this here at MMorg so far. I really appreciate that you've taken time to leave feedback, which is why I will continue to post this story here for you.