Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Resilience ❯ Part IX ( Chapter 9 )

Disclaimer: Bleach and all affiliated characters and settings are the creative property of Kubo Tite and all companies holding the rights to its license and distribution (including Shueisha Jump Comics, Studio Pierrot, TV Tokyo, Viz, etc.). Used for a non-profit entertainment purpose.

Warnings: same as usual, though a good deal more f-bombing this time around, ehehehe…

Shout-outs:

Kellen and Davan for their support and letting me flail at them as I worked on this chapter. ILU GUYZ. SRSLY.

Namimakura for the fanart of the end of Part VIII! OMG. I never get fic-related fanart (except from Thane, but that is because we're doing a webcomic together and she spoils me)! -flails some more- Link to said fanart is in my ffnet bio, or you can find her on deviantART under “wastedsouls;” the picture is titled “Resilience.” -squee!-

Long chapter ahoy!

Part IX

Hinamori Momo had decided that she needed a break from the back fifth division paperwork she'd been picking through. The seated officers in her division had done a fabulous job of keeping up with the current reports in both their captain's and vice captain's sudden absences, but even they could only handle so much at one time. She couldn't presume to expect as much out of them, not when it should have been hers to do in the first place. There were times when she understood where Matsumoto's tendency to sneak off when reports were due came from.

The transition to taking over for Aizen-taichou had been difficult - and it still was, in most ways. There were many days in which Hinamori nearly forgot that her captain wasn't there anymore, and wouldn't be. She would turn to ask him his opinion on a particular report, or to see if he would like any tea when she went to get herself some, and he wasn't there. Of course he wasn't there; someone - Gin - had messed up his mind in there somewhere. It didn't matter, though; Hitsugaya would bring him back and remind him of who he really was. Shirou-chan had promised as much.

Hinamori looked up just in time to see the sign for the Tenth's offices as she passed on her walk; she hadn't even realized she was heading in that direction. Part of her wanted to stop in and say hi to Hitsugaya, but then she remembered that he was still on mission in the Living World. Maybe she could beg Yamamoto-soutaichou to let her call him again soon.

Until then, she would simply loop by the First's offices and see how things were going there before she went back to work on paperwork. One could only delay the inevitable for so long. But before she could let her mind dwell further on the upcoming reports, a small commotion of voices down the hall attracted her attention. There was a small clump of shinigami - white coats, captains, Ukitake and Kyouraku and Kurotsuchi and Unohana and… Yamamoto-soutaichou? - moving quickly towards the Fourth Division's quarters. Unohana's face glowed the color of reiatsu, her forehead wrinkled in a worried, concentrated frown. They hadn't seemed to notice Hinamori following them.

She caught Hitsugaya's name, and her heart skipped a beat. Moving forward with a hand outstretched, she tried to see who it was they were so intently gathered around. Something bad had happened. But suddenly, Koutetsu-fukutaichou was blocking her view of the procession, and she couldn't see any more.

That wasn't Hitsugaya-taichou they were carrying, was it?

A choked, pained moan in Hitsugaya's familiar voice told her otherwise, and she froze. Something was wrong, horribly wrong. Hitsugaya was supposed to be in the Living World - what was he doing here? Why was he hurt? Had something happened to him on his mission?

She followed them to the Fourth Division's infirmary, trying to pick up as much of the conversation as she could, but the ringing in her ears kept the words from registering. All she knew was that Hitsugaya had been badly hurt, and that Gin had likely had something to do with it, somehow.

Gin. The name turned her vision red with anger at the man who had taken so much away from her. It was Gin's fault that Aizen had betrayed them, and if Gin had been responsible for harming Hitsugaya… She wouldn't forgive him.

“Hinamori-fukutaichou?”

Hinamori nearly jumped; she had been so lost in her own thoughts that she hadn't even heard Koutetsu Kiyone - one of the two shinigami who shared the third seat in Ukitake's division - come up behind her.

“Koutetsu-san! You startled me,” Hinamori said.

“I know you're worried about Hitsugaya-taichou, but Isane-nee-sama asked me to escort you back to your division,” Kiyone said in a sheepishly gentle tone. “She said they will contact you as soon as there is news, if you'd like, but they can't have unauthorized personnel in this area right now. I'm sorry.”

Worry chased the anger away; Hitsugaya must be in really bad shape if they were trying to keep the area clear. “What happened?”

“I don't know for sure myself, but I heard something went wrong during a questioning session,” Kiyone said. “It's probably too early to say, but I think Hitsugaya-taichou was somehow hurt during the process.”

“Will he be all right?”

“I don't know. I'm sorry.”

Hinamori nodded; Kiyone's guess probably was as good as her own. She let the third seat lead her away, silently praying that Hitsugaya would pull through whatever had happened to him.

“Ran-chan! You have a call!”

Renji was out of breath by the time he caught up to Matsumoto at the edge of the park. She had taken up Hitsugaya's affinity for late afternoon walks in his absence; she was out on one such walk when she sensed Renji approaching her. She whirled, eyes wide when they met with Renji's.

“News?” she asked seriously, heart pounding with anxiety. Was it from Hitsugaya?

“None that they would give me; Yamamoto-soutaichou wanted to speak with you specifically,” Renji replied, an apologetic look on his face.

She frowned. If Yamamoto wanted to speak with her, then… No. She couldn't let her mind think that way. They wouldn't execute Hitsugaya over his memories, would they? They couldn't afford to, not with how thinly spread their captains were as it was. Without another word, she nodded to Renji, and they both sped back to Orihime's apartment, back to where the Soul Society calling console sat in the spare room there. Orihime shot them a puzzled look as they both barged into her apartment and rushed back to the spare room.

Matsumoto didn't realize she was out of breath until she stood before the console gasping for air. Yamamoto's figure stood calmly still in the incoming screen, silhouetted in his dark office only by the light of his own console. His face was blank, but it always was.

“Matsumoto-fukutaichou,” he said solemnly. “Your presence is requested back here in Soul Society. Please report to my office after you have made arrangements to oversee Inoue-san's continued protection.”

No news? Matsumoto nearly frowned again at the vague nature of Yama-jii's message, but she knew better than to question. They'd tell her what was going on when she got there, she hoped. “Understood, Yamamoto-soutaichou,” she replied with a nod.

“That is all.”

And the screen flickered off. Matsumoto looked wearily over her shoulder at Renji, who still stood in the doorway.

“You'd better get going, Ran-chan,” he said.

Matsumoto nodded. “Please take over for me, and let the others know,” she said.

Renji balked. “Me? But--"

“And make sure Urahara keeps his promise. I'll send word as soon as I'm able.”

"Wouldn't-- I mean--... But--" Once Renji finished sputtering, he took a deep breath and bowed. “Take care, Ran-chan.”

Matsumoto nodded, turned, and initiated the gate back to Soul Society. Renji waved behind the closing doors, and Matsumoto didn't look back. Then again, she was startled to find Ukitake waiting for her on the other side of the door, and she didn't even think to look behind her again. At first, she thought that perhaps it was a coincidence, but when she took a closer look at the Thirteenth's captain, she saw that he was slightly hunched over, and dark circles ringed his bloodshot eyes. There was no sparkle in his usually cheery expression.

The realization sank in Matsumoto's gut, bitterly heavy. Something had not only gone wrong, it had gone horribly wrong. A disaster.

“Come with me,” was all the answer Ukitake could provide her. He turned and walked somberly in the direction of the First Division offices. Numbly, Matsumoto followed.

Yamamoto's office looked like a war zone, and Matsumoto suddenly understood why Yamamoto had likely kept the lights off on purpose while speaking with her over the communicator. Glass and papers were strewn everywhere, chairs broken and at least one table had been splintered. There were patches of blood on the floor, not quite dried, and the most pooled around the base of a chair that had once had armrests on it. The only explanation she could think of was that there had been a fight there. Had Hitsugaya fought back during the memory wipe? Had he been provoked so far as to strike back against Yamamoto? Or had someone attacked them in the meantime? It was extremely difficult to tell from just a glance what had caused the scuffle, but something had happened.

“Matsumoto-fukutaichou,” Yamamoto greeted.

“Yamamoto-soutaichou,” Matsumoto replied, bowing. “You sent for me.”

“I did,” Yamamoto said. “Thank you for your prompt arrival.” Matusmoto inclined her head in a half-nod, and waited for the old man to continue. “As you can see, there has been some trouble here, and I am afraid it involves Hitsugaya-taichou.”

Matsumoto couldn't hide the scowl that was slowly finding its way to her face. “And how might that be?” she asked tersely. She half expected Yamamoto to come out and accuse her of treason as well, just by association.

His answer surprised her. “He was the unfortunate casualty of a brutal trap set by Aizen Sousuke and his associates.”

Was. The word felt like a slowly-twisting knife in her stomach. Hitsugaya wasn't... “Is Hitsugaya-taichou-?”

“He still lives,” Yamamoto said, quelling one of her fears. “But he is in poor condition. Unohana-taichou is looking after him as we speak.”

If Unohana-taichou was personally handling his case, then it had to be bad. “Might I see him?”

“Not until Unohana-taichou declares him stable.”

Matsumoto felt her eyes burn with tears, and she spent a full moment trying to bite back on them. She had to be strong. When she was certain her voice wasn't going to crack on her, she asked, “What happened?”

“Well, we can't do much until we have word from Unohana. Let us go somewhere where we can sit, and I will explain the situation in full detail,” Yamamoto said, motioning for both Matsumoto and Ukitake to follow.

Feeling ill, Matsumoto hesitated, but Ukitake gently placed a hand on her shoulder. She looked up as he passed, and then she finally followed.

“Unohana-taichou, there's still a rupture in his lungs; he's stopped breathing again!”

“S-Stage three treatment is in progress, Unohana-taichou.”

“Isane, please switch with me; I will work on the respiratory system.”

“Yes, taichou.”

“Yuuji, stay on task until we reach stage five of the treatment, and then switch with Hanatarou-san until we stabilize him. Stay focused now; we can't afford to lose our concentration here!”

“Yes, taichou!”

Unohana took a deep breath as she focused her reiatsu into Hitsugaya's small chest, encouraging the torn tissues of his lungs to mend. The breathing mask could only help him so far as his lungs were working. Sweat beaded on her upper lip as she worked, and she didn't realize she was gritting her teeth until her jaw relaxed when Hitsugaya raggedly gasped a lungful of air. After his second breath, she took a deep breath. They should be ready to move into the next stage of healing soon.

“He's breathing again,” she informed her small, five-man tag team unit. “Preparing for stage four of his treatment.”

“Give me a moment,” Isane said, gritting her teeth.

“Koutetsu-fukutaichou, don't push too hard-!”

“Give me a moment!” she repeated, voice raising. “Working around some resistance; give me a hand, Hanatarou!”

Hanatarou knelt beside Isane and placed his hands alongside the vice-captain's as they pressed against Hitsugaya's abdomen. Unohana was grateful for the smaller healer's presence; after his foray with Kurosaki and the other ryoka, Hanatarou's talent seemed to blossom with the encouragement, and his gentle touch was proving to be extremely helpful. After a moment, Isane nodded gratefully to Hanatarou.

“Ready for the fourth stage of treatment,” she said, exhaling.

“Hanatarou, switch with Isane until the next stage of treatment,” Unohana ordered. “Isane, you will relieve Yuuji when the time comes.”

“I'm sorry, Unohana-taichou,” Isane said, bowing her head as she moved from her position.

Isane was stressing herself too far and could use the short breather. Not that Unohana blamed Isane; Hitsugaya's case was proving to be rather distressing. Karura nearly had carried out his threat to take Hitsugaya down with him - in fact, the threat still hung heavy in the air. Hitsugaya was in dire shape; he had suffered a great deal of internal damage, as if Karura had actually dragged his claws through Hitsugaya's insides. The outward signs of the injury were gruesome as it was, but it was a situation where it really was worse than it looked. Three jagged, parallel claw marks cut diagonally across Hitsugaya's torso from his hip to his shoulder; the blood loss only added complications to the more serious injuries on the inside. It was a miracle that the young captain was even alive at this point, and Unohana intended for him to stay that way. As slow as it was, they were making progress.

“H-He's waking up!”

The strangled scream brought her attention back to her work, and Hitsugaya's back arched painfully as his muscles tensed. The cold compress that lay over the young man's eyes fell to the side, revealing wide, panicked eyes that saw nothing but pain. She hadn't been expecting him to rouse after the first spell, but apparently it hadn't been strong enough, she realized with a small measure of guilt. The earlier stages of treatment were always the most painful for the more serious cases. Unohana reached with one hand and spread her fingers across Hitsugaya's forehead, and with a quick burst of reiatsu, she watched as his body relaxed again, eyes rolling to the back of his head once more before the eyelids closed.

“Sleep, Hitsugaya-taichou,” she murmured, placing the cloth back over his eyes.

“Stage four of treatment is in progress.”

Unohana nodded in acknowledgement, focusing her attention back on the patient. She hoped he wouldn't remember this procedure as anything more than a distant nightmare.

The wind blew bitterly cold outside the cave, seeping through the small opening and chilling the shivering, huddled inhabitant to the bone. Not even the familiar warmth of the dragon behind him helped, and moment by silent moment, he felt himself weakening, as if someone had turned the tap on his strength to full blast. Blinking frost-laden lashes, Hitsugaya sluggishly cast his gaze on the dragon behind him, the dragon's breath shuddering harshly in his ears.

He opened his mouth to try to offer empty encouragement to the dragon - and himself - but sharp pain shot through his chest, and he lost the breath to speak. They'd both been badly wounded this time.

Hitsugaya cast a baleful look at the hallway that had encased his memories; its entranceway was now ensconced in thick ice. He didn't need to see beyond the blockade to know what was there - all that was left were the shattered remnants of what had once been a source of identity. Now? Now he didn't even know what was his, and what had been planted there by Gin.

Hell, he didn't even know if Gin was real at this point, nor did he have the energy to care.

"There won't… there won't be any waking up this time, will there?" Hitsugaya asked wryly, once he had the air to say so.

"Toushirou," the dragon's voice rumbled. "It doesn't have to be that way."

"I don't have the strength left to fix it, dragon," Hitsugaya sighed. "There's nothing left there, anyway. Karura made damn sure of that."

Hyourinmaru growled in admonishment. "I know how it should be."

"Then you fix it," Hitsugaya said bitterly. "I'm not going back there."

"Toushirou, that isn't like you, and you know it."

Hitsugaya turned his head sharply to face the dragon, and instantly regretted it as pain shot through his spine. "Damn it, I don't even know what I'm like anymore - how do you expect me to piece together a puzzle when half the pieces are fake?"

"Rely on me, then, to tell you which pieces to use."

Hitsugaya sighed; Hyourinmaru wasn't one to lie, was he? "There's no point, anyway. Gaining my memory won't keep me alive."

"But your resolve will, Toushirou."

Hitsugaya didn't have much to say to that, except… who would care if he lived? He was a criminal now anyway, at any rate. Even if it wasn't his fault, he had broken the code - he remembered. Or, at least, he thought he did.

Maybe he didn't.

Gods, not this train of thought again.

"That wasn't you, Toushirou."

Gritting his teeth, Hitsugaya had to clamp down on the urge to argue with Hyourinmaru, but he knew that it was stupid to even try. The dragon was right; Karura - the son of a bitch - had been in control for far too long. Hitsugaya sure as hell wasn't going to let Karura have the last laugh in his own body.

What was it with the villains trying to hijack his mind these days, anyway?

"They see potential."

"And that means-?"

Hyourinmaru stayed silent. For all Hitsugaya cared, the dragon could have shrugged, or could have said "I know something you don't, and you'll just have to find out the long way," for all the good the silence did.

"Let me guess - if I have the strength to argue, then I have the strength to get out of here, right?" Hitsugaya said dryly.

Hyourinmaru's long whiskers pulled back to reveal long, pointed white teeth; it was as much of a smile as Hitsugaya could hope for from the dragon. The damn thing wasn't only smart, but had a sense of humor, too. Hitsugaya supposed he could have been stuck with a worse partner.

Standing slowly - it hurt like hell to move - Hitsugaya panted until the pain faded to a manageable level before he began staggering towards the ice that surrounded the hallway. Without a word, Hyourinmaru followed.

Renji wasn't sure how they'd known they were short several members of their team, but somehow, they must have. They must have. The timing was far too perfect. He'd been meditating when he saw the dark rip cut a gaping black hole in the sky, and even before he saw who was behind it, he was already standing with his gigai at his feet, one word coming to mind.

"Fuck."

He wasted no time rushing his way back to Inoue's place, startling her as he barged in the door. To be honest, he was extremely relieved that he hadn't had to hunt for her; lately, she'd been taking up training with Rukia in order to try to protect herself. But if Rukia couldn't handle an Espada, then it was a safe bet that neither could Inoue. Though it hadn't yet been confirmed that the intruders were Espada rather than average Arrancar, it was better to be safe than sorry, in this case. They might not be trying to kill her yet, but they certainly were interested in her. Renji hadn't heard any good explanation as to why that might be the case - Inoue was a human girl with some unusual but extremely efficient healing abilities, but Renji doubted that Aizen wanted her for that skill. Perhaps there was something about Inoue that the rest of them had missed that made her especially valuable.

"We have a problem, Inoue-san, and I'm going to have to ask you to come with me to Urahara's," Renji said seriously, feeling a little guilty for startling the poor girl.

Inoue didn't seem to mind. She nodded, eyes equally serious, and grasped Renji's outstretched hand. He hoped that the others would know where to meet up - in Matsumoto's and Hitsugaya's absences, Renji had formulated what he hoped would be a plan of action should such a situation arise. Inoue would be placed under Urahara's protection, and then they would all meet at the place where the rip appeared.

Urahara was waiting for them when they arrived at his shop, a terse grin on his face. "Inoue-san," he greeted, and offered a nod to Renji as well.

"I leave her to you again, Urahara-san," Renji said, and then he left.

His next line of business would be to inform Soul Society that they were engaging the Arrancar, and to have them send back-up. Summoning a hell butterfly as he ran, he whispered the message to it and sent it on its way back to headquarters. Chances were that they'd already noticed the invasion, but Renji hoped that such news would entice them to send a second unit to help fend them off this time, especially since they were rather sure their target was Inoue. Urahara had inferred as much after the most recent Arrancar attacks that he'd known something about it, and knew that they had been after Inoue. If the enemy wanted her so badly, then they weren't going to let them have her, even if she was merely a human girl and not an actual shinigami.

It did make Renji wonder why it was that they wanted her so badly. One of these days, he would have to corner Urahara - somehow - and make him explain. Until then, he had Arrancar to kill.

Ichigo's reiatsu exploded in Renji's senses, and after the initial shockwave had died down, he was able to pinpoint the location of the fight. He was relieved to know that Ichigo was in action; the boy was indeed a powerful ally to have in a situation like this, despite his inexperience. Renji knew that Rukia would be with him, and Renji hoped that their combined reiatsu would attract enough attention that they would distract the Arrancar away from their actual goal. Highly doubtful - it didn't exactly work that way the last time, since the Arrancar seemed to be pretty damn smart - but thankfully Urahara had foreseen as much and had managed to protect Inoue, as he would this time. Urahara was also a powerful ally to be grateful for, in Renji's book.

When Renji finally picked out how many Arrancar had arrived this time, he put on speed; Ichigo and Rukia wouldn't be able to handle them all alone. Renji fervently hoped that Yumichika and Ikkaku realized what had happened and would be on their way to help as well.

They were going to need all the help they could get, if these Arrancar were anything like what they had encountered before.

Matsumoto still felt vaguely sick when Unohana quietly led her to Hitsugaya's room in the infirmary. Even though she now knew Yamamoto was trying to save Hitsugaya rather than kill him, she still felt at least a little angry at the old man. Why had he questioned Hitsugaya so harshly anyway, even though he knew exactly what was going on? Why hadn't he protected his subordinates better? Why had he allowed this kind of treachery to happen? There were so many things she wanted to ask him - accuse him of - that it made her head hurt with confusion. She hoped fervently that Hitsugaya would at least be told the truth if-- when he awoke. All such thoughts fled, however, once Unohana sat her down by Hitsugaya. The young captain was horribly pale, and the fact that the covers were pulled to his chin even in such warm weather had her wondering what they were hiding beneath.

"I've put him in a deep sleep," Unohana explained quietly. "It'll help ease the pain until he's healed enough to bear it."

Matsumoto grasped the closest of Hitsugaya's hands between both of her own; shivering at how cold it was to the touch. Pressing it to her forehead, she tried hard not to cry as she recalled the last time Hitsugaya had spent a great deal of time in Unohana's care. Only this time, she hadn't been there to support him.

"Will… will he be okay?" she finally asked.

Unohana placed a gentle hand on Matsumoto's shoulder. "That will be up to him. It'll be easier to tell when he is awake," the healer replied honestly. "Until then, you're welcome to stay with him. Try talking to him; he may be asleep, but I think it helps to know that there are those here who care."

Matsumoto nodded, not looking up. She heard the rustle of cloth as Unohana quietly excused herself and left Matsumoto alone with her captain. For several moments, all Matsumoto could manage was to silently sit by Hitsugaya's side, clinging on to his cold hand. After all he'd been through - all of them, really - she couldn't bear the thought of losing him to a plot that was even older than he was.

Why had she not seen Gin's betrayal sooner? She should have noticedsomething, especially back when they were so close. She remembered when Gin became Aizen's lieutenant, but she hadn't seen a change then. Perhaps he had been fooling her all along as well, dragging her into his brutal mind games. It made her regret not taking Gin's life when she had it in her hands, the day he betrayed them all. If she had, then Hitsugaya wouldn't be laying here half-dead, and she wouldn't feel that gaping, empty hole left in her chest. Even though Hitsugaya was her captain, she was still older than he was, and she felt at least partially responsible for not looking out better for him.

It made her want to scream.

"Taichou, I'm so sorry," she whispered instead. "I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you. Please… please hang in there; I don't know what we-… I would do if I lost you, too."

She squeezed his hand, and the moved one hand to brush his bangs from his face as he slept. Remembering Unohana's words, she continued to whisper encouragements to Hitsugaya to hold on, and when she ran out of words to say, she sighed, and instead began filling him in on what he'd missed in the Living World.

There were only three this time.

Only, of course, being a comparative term. The last time, there had been only five, and it had taken nearly all the Shinigami currently taking temporary residence in the Living World to keep them at bay. At least now they knew exactly what the Arrancar were after - apparently, something about Inoue had caught Aizen's eye.

Ichigo wasn't about to let them have her. They'd nearly lost her to Hueco Mundo in the last major Arrancar attack; if Urahara hadn't seen through their ruse and insisted Inoue stay in Soul Society until he could safely escort her back to the Living World, she probably would have been in their hands by now. This time, however, Inoue wasn't in the relative safety of Seireitei's gates, and they were one captain and his lieutenant fewer than the last time they'd fought the Arrancar.

Ichigo hoped that Renji had stuck to his own damn plan and had taken her to Urahara as soon as he'd sensed the Arrancar's arrival (who the hell couldn't sense the damn things?). He had almost insisted that Rukia stay behind as well - images of what Grimmjow had done to her the last time still haunted him at night - but he knew it would be a futile effort, so he didn't even bother trying this time around. She was running next to him, both of them heading in the direction of Ichigo's father's clinic, where it seemed there was the strongest concentration of foul reiatsu.

Yumichika met him with serious eyes and a curt nod not too far from the Kurosaki clinic; Ikkaku was likely close behind. That was good - at least three against three, possibly four in their favor. If all had gone according to plan, Renji would be on his way as well.

There. Ichigo could see the outlines of reiatsu now, just a matter of blocks down the road. He turned and checked to see if Rukia was behind him - he knew she was there; he could sense her there, but he needed the visual confirmation - and she nodded back at him, but her gaze suddenly shot past him and widened. She barely had time to shout a warning as Ichigo turned and nearly collided with a rather tall, lanky Arrancar, built much like Grimmjow but with more wire and less brute strength. The Arrancar grunted as Ichigo brushed past him, and then turned and skid to a halt with his hand on the hilt of Zangetsu. He paused, feeling as though the Arrancar was going to say something - a scathing remark on the fact that Ichigo had nearly run into him, or perhaps a demeaning slur about Ichigo's skills and a comparison to Grimmjow.

Grimmjow isn't here, Ichigo noticed suddenly, and the realization left him both relieved and oddly frustrated.

Instead of a rude greeting like Grimmjow would have issued, this Arrancar said not a word and didn't give him the luxury. No rank announcement, either - this guy might not even be an Espada. With a sharp scrape of metal against wood, Ichigo's opponent drew his zanpakutou and charged. Ichigo quickly pulled Zangetsu's larger blade up to knock the Arrancar's thrust away from his body, and then he propelled himself backwards and skid on the air currents, holding his sword pointed out in front of him as he faced the Arrancar. He drew in a deep breath.

"Ban- shit!" Another Arrancar cut off the release of Ichigo's bankai with several bala, forcing Ichigo off his stance in order to deflect the energy bullets.

Clearly, these guys weren't up for sitting around and gauging their opponent, Ichigo realized morosely. Unless he got a good chance, he wasn't going to be able to even think about releasing his bankai, and if these Arrancar were anything like Grimmjow or the other ones they had encountered before, he was going to be in deep trouble.

Ichigo didn't even register Rukia's sharp call until he saw the first Arrancar freeze mid-attack just a few feet in front of him; she had released her shikai from behind the Arrancar. Her stern eyes met his for a moment, and he nodded. She had given him just enough time.

"Bankai!" Ichigo roared.

Matsumoto's voice floated softly through the traditional shoji that surrounded the rooms of the fourth division's infirmary rooms. Hinamori hadn't really noticed before, but the more she listened, the more she realized that the Tenth's lieutenant had a rather soothing cadence to the way she spoke. It almost made Hinamori jealous, but at the same time, she simply couldn't bring herself to interrupt it.

"Renji snores when he's asleep. He doesn't like admitting it, but it's pretty loud. He's in charge there right now, just in case you were wondering who I left running the outpost." There was a brief pause, and then, "You know, I hope you wake up soon, because that probably wasn't the best idea I've ever had."

Hinamori stifled a small giggle with her hand. Even though Matsumoto was clearly worried about her captain, she still had the mental fortitude to keep at least a mild sense of humor in such a tense situation. That too made Hinamori almost envious of the buxom woman, especially since she clearly had a close bond with Hinamori's childhood friend. Not that Hinamori wasn't willing to share, of course; it was more the fact that she felt as though her time in a coma had put her a little out of the loop on many things.

Hitsugaya had been hurt that time as well, she recalled. He had healed enough to go back on duty long before she had awakened, so she often forgot that he too had nearly died during that confusing time. Simply thinking about it gave Hinamori a headache. There had to have been some kind of mistake; Aizen wasn't the type of person todo that to anyone.

She peered through the crack between the slightly-parted shoji into what had become Hitsugaya's room, and was almost surprised to see how lifeless Hitsugaya looked. His pale face took on a glassy sheen from sweat reflecting in the dim light, though his features looked almost too relaxed. Matsumoto sat beside Hitsugaya's pallet, clasping his closest hand with one of her own. One of the Fourth's seated officers sat on the other side, eyes closed in concentration, hands glowing as they hovered over Hitsugaya's chest. He had to have been badly hurt if they still were working on his wounds even after Unohana had done her work. Hinamori's heart sank; Kiyone had not exaggerated the situation at all, much to Hinamori's dismay. Aizen couldn't have done that to Shirou-chan - he hadn't done it.

This was Gin's fault. Hadn't she heard them talking about Gin not too long before, when they'd first brought Hitsugaya to the Fourth's ward? Aizen simply wasn't that cruel. … Was he?

Hinamori chewed on her lower lip, frustrated at the small knot of doubt tightening in her stomach. Aizen had never failed her before - those weren't Aizen's eyes looking at her, when she had nearly been killed all those months ago. Those were the eyes of someone else entirely; someone cold and cruel. Gin's eyes - when they were actually visible - were just like that.

A low groan startled Hinamori out of her train of thought, and her eyes snapped back to Hitsugaya's still form. Matsumoto had placed her free hand on the young captain's forehead, whispering soothing words.

She couldn't watch anymore; watching only made her angry and frustrated, and Hitsugaya certainly didn't need that right now in his situation. He needed to pull through, and if he didn't, Hinamori was sure that not even the threat of eternal hell could stop her from storming to Hueco Mundo and extracting payment from Gin herself.

By the time Renji arrived at the scene of the fight, there wasn't much left. Strewn bodies of dying Arrancar lay in haphazard fashion, Ichigo at the clear center of the carnage. The orange-haired boy stood with his back straight, facing away from Renji.

Renji let out a low whistle. “Well, it looks like you didn't need my help this time, Kurosaki.” Ichigo's face half-turned towards him. “What, no Grimmjow this time to- holy shit, what the-!”

He barely had time to bring up Zabimaru for protection before Ichigo nearly flew into him, half his face covered in a white mask, revealing an unnaturally wide grin and dark black eyes with yellow irises. Ichigo's weight slammed heavily into Renji, buffered only by the clashing of swords between them; the soles of Renji's feet burned as they skimmed against the pavement.

“What the fuck, Kurosaki? It's me, you dumbass!” Renji roared, locking eyes with Ichigo.

The laugh coming from Ichigo's broad smile sounded warped - it wasn't his voice. Renji's mind raced as he looked around for an explanation. Clearly, Ichigo had been the one to demolish the three invading Arrancar with little trouble, but as his eyes scanned quickly over the battlefield, they fell on Rukia's prone body.

Fuck.

Renji gritted his teeth and snarled, “You goddamned piece ofshit-”

“Abarai, stop!” It was Yumichika's voice, and Renji saw him pulling himself gingerly to his feet across the now-broken intersection of road over Ichigo's shoulder. “Kurosaki didn't hurt Rukia!”

Oh. Oh. Ichigo had pulled out that crazy-assed mask of his, and Rukia had been hurt in the fight. Renji wasn't an idiot; he knew how the punk kid felt about Rukia, and knew that it could have been enough to see Rukia felled to put a chink in Ichigo's usually rock solid armor.

“How the hell do we change him back, then?” Renji shouted back, pushing against Zangetsu with all his strength.

“I - I don't know,” Yumichika replied uneasily.

“You're both idiots,” the distorted voice snickered from Ichigo's mouth. “There will be no changing back. I am Kurosaki Ichigo now.”

“Like hell I'm going to believe that!” Renji shoved “Ichigo” away from him, and ran his hand over Zabimaru's jagged blade. “Howl, Zabimaru!”

A sudden flash of light overhead pulled Renji's attention away from his target just long enough for him to see a figure wearing a similar Hollow-like mask; it was heading straight for Ichigo.

“Renji, move!”

Renji wasn't sure if it was Rukia's voice that brought him out of his stupor, or if it was the sudden realization that he was about to get pounded into the pavement that did it - he performed severalshunpo to the side, dodging chunks of concrete as they crossed his path. On his way out of the intersection, he passed by Rukia and scooped her off the ground as gently as he could at the speed he was going. He was joined by Yumichika on the flat roof of a nearby building.

“Who the hell is that?” Renji demanded once he'd stopped moving.

“I don't know,” Yumichika replied. “He kind of looks like that one weird new kid from school, but it's hard to tell with that mask on his face.” He looked up, frowning. “Do you think that-”

“That guy was talking with Kurosaki earlier,” Ikkaku said suddenly from behind them.

Yumichika whirled, glaring. “And where the hell were you just now?

“None of your fuckin' business,” Ikakku snapped. “But look - he's not trying to kill Kurosaki, just slowin' him down. I don't think he's an enemy, but he's certainly no normal kid.”

“No shit,” Renji replied.

Rukia cleared her throat from Renji's arms, squirming to get his attention. Renji almost forgot he'd been carrying her, and that she was-

Shit!

“You can put me down now, Renji,” Rukia stated evenly, in that tone she only used when she was dangerously irritated.

Renji didn't care and glared at her. “Last I checked, you weren't in much mood for walking on your own.”

“I'm fine,” Rukia snapped back, pushing against Renji's broad chest. “Now put me down, or I swear on Sode no Shiroyuki that I will-”

“Fine, fine,” Renji said, not wanting to squabble. He put her on her feet, holding her steady as she wobbled only slightly before she regained her balance. “Happy now?”

She said nothing, and instead turned to watch the fight. Ichigo - or that damned freak that apparently still lived in him - seemed to be having trouble against the strange blond boy's onslaught, and it wasn't long before Zangetsu was knocked away and “Ichigo” was slammed backwards into a building. Before “Ichigo” could move, the boy was there, a sword in hand, pointed at the impostor's throat.

“The fuck- that's a zanpakutou!” Ikkaku suddenly exclaimed.

Renji's eyes widened; there couldn't be more than one rogue shinigami around this town, could there? They all watched with startled expressions as the blond boy's hand shot out and grabbed “Ichigo”'s mask, giving it a sharp tug before it shattered into pieces, leaving Ichigo's wide brown eyes blinking back in utter confusion.

Rukia sighed loudly beside him in relief; Renji couldn't agree more, though he couldn't deny that he wanted to hear an explanation for all this freakish shit. A quick shunpo brought him back to the intersection, and even before he could reach out a hand to grab the wiry shoulder of the blond kid, a thin hand closed around his wrist in an iron grip.

“I'm not the enemy,” the boy said evenly.

“I know that, damn it,” Renji began, snatching his wrist away. “But-” The boy cut him off with a flick of his hand. He turned to pin Renji with a hard stare.

“I'm sure you're all very confused by now, but just so you know, the only one you should blame is Kurosaki here for being so damn reckless,” the boy replied, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at Ichigo. He whirled again to face Ichigo.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Shinji?” Ichigo demanded.

“It means that just because you haven't been specifically singled out by Aizen's master plans, kiddo, it doesn't mean you're Mr. Invincible,” the boy - Shinji - retorted. Renji's brow furrowed; how the hell did this Shinji person know of Aizen? “You know better than to lose control like that - I thought you'd learned your lesson from training, but noooo.”

“I thought I had control, jackass!”

“Well, then explain what the hell just happened, then!”

“Fuck you, Shinji. Fuck. You.”

“You're too valuable of a fighter to let yourself slip like that, Kurosaki. You know that.”

Ichigo looked away. “It won't happen again.”

Shinji folded his arms, regarding Ichigo with a smirk. “Prove it, then.” When Ichigo reached for his zanpakutou, Shinji cut him off with a wave of his hand. “No, not now, idiot. Later - we're obviously not done with your training just yet. You still have to hold up your part of the deal, don't forget.”

Ichigo scowled at his back as Shinji turned to face Renji. He pinned Renji with a solemn stare, which startled him.

“Keep an eye on him, Abarai.”

And before Renji could finish sputtering long enough to ask Shinji how the fuck he knew his name, Shinji was no longer there.

Ikkaku and Yumichika arrived just as Shinji left, both giving Ichigo weird looks. Ichigo looked away, face red. He knew, the dumb shit - and Renji was going to demand the explanation out of him just as soon as they saw to Rukia's injuries.

Hitsugaya wasn't sure when he began realizing he was awake. He knew he had been aware for some time, but hadn't moved to open his eyes - it felt good, just resting like this. Small pains and aches in his chest would flare up every so often, but as those became less frequent, he found it much easier to simply relax. It had been far too long since he'd been able to do that last.

Part of his mind recalled hearing Matsumoto's voice, speaking softly from beside him. He wondered where he was - at his makeshift office in Orihime's small apartment, perhaps - but it didn't seem important just yet. She was probably just letting him sleep. She had been worried a great deal lately about-

Something was wrong. This wasn't his office, he realized suddenly; he wasn't even in the realm of the Living. Scrambling desperately for an explanation, he tried recalling the last thing that had happened before he had dozed off, and couldn't remember anything except pain and the pungent scent of his own sweat and fear. Where the hell was he? What had happened? He inhaled sharply, eyelids flying open in a sudden panic, crying out as his vision went white from a deep, stabbing pain in his chest. Oh god, ohgodohgodohgod-

A small pressure squeezing his hand chased the panicked blur away from his vision, and the white light faded to the dimmed outline of a dark ceiling. Trying to recapture lost breath, he breathed harshly, listening to the sound of his own soft wheezing that accompanied dull pain resonating from deep within his lungs. Wanting to see what had trapped his hand, he slowly turned his head to the side and saw a petite silhouette laying on the floor beside his futon, one soft hand gripping his.

Hinamori.

Closing his eyes, he took an experimental deep breath, and noticed that it hurt less when he breathed through his nose slowly. Hinamori was sleeping next to his futon, holding his hand the way she used to when he was sick during their childhood in Rukongai. There was no danger here. The thought helped calm him, making him want to simply drift back to the relaxed state of semi-consciousness so that he could enjoy the moment.

"H-Hitsugaya-taichou?" a soft voice on the other side of the futon whispered, nearly startling him. Hitsugaya's eyes opened again to see Hanatarou's concerned face hovering above him. "Ah! You are awake!"

Hitsugaya frowned, trying again to piece together what had happened - this time without the panic and the pain - and then it occurred to him that he knew exactly where he was: the infirmary in the Fourth Division.

"-cry out earlier; are you still in pain?" Hanatarou was saying.

Hitsugaya blinked, trying to clear his throat so he could answer. "What… happened?" he croaked, the harsh sound of his own voice surprising him.

Hanatarou's face was illuminated in the light of a healing kidou, the feel of the healer's reiatsu foreign and strange as it poured into his chest and chased away some of the remnant pain. "Don't try to speak too much, Hitsugaya-taichou. Unohana-taichou will be by soon to check on you, and she can answer any questions you might have then." Hanatarou's voice stayed low, his eyes fixed on his own hands as he spoke, brow furrowed in concentration.

“Matsu…Matsumoto?” Hitsugaya asked suddenly - she had been there, hadn't she? If she had been there, then who was looking after their detail in the Living World? He tried sitting up, but Hanatarou pressed harder on his sore chest.

“Matsumoto is resting, Hitsugaya-taichou,” Hanatarou replied with a stern glare. “Please, don't strain yourself. You need to rest.”

Hanatarou's orders were probably sound - if Hanatarou's strength was enough to hold him down, he was likely very weak. Embarrassing as it was, he felt too exhausted to even care about his pride at this point. A sleeping Hinamori wouldn't care, and so far she was the only witness aside from Hanatarou.

He closed his eyes again, trying to piece together what had happened. It made sense that he would be here in the Fourth Division, but the details were fuzzy. He felt mildly disoriented - some time had passed since he last recalled anything clearly, and even then he couldn't quite recall what it was that had brought him back to Seireitei aside from the fact that it had been important - but now that he knew where he was, it didn't cause him any sort of panic. Matsumoto was there with him, and if she was resting, it was likely that he had been unconscious for some time now and that she had been there with him for much of it. It did cross his mind that he had questions for Hanatarou, but when he opened his eyes to ask them, Hanatarou was gone.

So was Hinamori. In her place, there sat a small stuffed dragon next to the makura, visible seams and button eyes giving away its handmade nature. Frowning, he wondered who had made it, and when it had been placed there.

He had drifted off again, and hadn't even realized it. Swallowing painfully - his mouth felt as though it had been stuffed with cotton - he noticed that the sun was out; its rays peeked through the cracks of the shoji on the far side of the room, but he couldn't tell what time of day it was at this angle. His head felt like a weighted metal ball, and his eyes stung with grit from sleep and exhaustion. Simply laying still made him feel mildly dizzy and extremely light-headed. Even when he had been badly wounded, he hadn't felt quite this--

Hanatarou had put him under on purpose, the bastard.

"Glad to see you awake again, Hitsugaya." Hitsugaya flinched in surprise when he heard Unohana's gentle voice from above his head, but calmed quickly when he realized who was in the room with him. "Hanatarou told me that you had regained consciousness yesterday before dawn, but had to put you back to sleep. Were you misbehaving, young one?"

Hitsugaya hadn't expected to be teased upon waking up again, but it was oddly comforting. He grunted in reply, eyes meeting Unohana's as she approached his futon.

"We were all worried about you," Unohana continued, kneeling beside him. "When you're ready, there are already several people who wish to come see you."

Hitsugaya looked away as Unohana folded the covers away from his chest. He wasn't sure he was prepared to allow any more people to be party to his weakness; there had been more than enough witnesses to the fact that he nearly been killed - again - by something he couldn't see. Ah, now he remembered why he was here.

Karura. That's what Hyourinmaru called that bird-creature. How many captains had been in that room with him when Yamamoto questioned him? How many of them had seen him in that losing battle? Hitsugaya stiffened when he felt Unohana's soft hands moving aside the bandages wrapping his torso.

"How is the pain?" Unohana asked, and Hitsugaya relaxed; she had misread the gesture, thankfully.

Hitsugaya didn't have to think on it for long to take stock; he still felt a dull, resounding ache in his lungs with every breath, his body heavy and sore. But truthfully, it wasn't as bad as he expected it to be. The Fourth Division truly had skilled healers.

"Still there, but dull," he replied hoarsely. Coughing to clear his throat, he winced as the pain in his chest flared briefly before it faded again. Whatever they were doing for the pain, it was working rather well.

Unohana nodded in response, hands now glowing over his chest. “It will continue to fade, but don't get frustrated if it takes a little more time than you'd like. You were badly wounded, Hitsugaya-taichou, so let the pain be a reminder not to push yourself too hard.”

Hitsugaya frowned, but he nodded regardless. He didn't dare look down to see the damage himself; from the feel of it, Karura had torn him open like a vulture would a carcass. He had thought the wounds were only in his mind at first, that reality had blended back with the dream in order to torment him further, but now it was obvious that the last nightmare he recalled before finding himself back in the safe haven of his subconscious had been real.

“How-” He shifted uncomfortably, and Unohana paused in her ministrations, waiting patiently for him to speak. “How bad…?”

Unohana sighed. “Perhaps it is best not to ask now.”

Hitsugaya resisted the urge to grab her hands and insist that she explain, but the serious look in her eyes make him think better of that idea. Instead, he looked away, and saw button eyes staring back at him. The handmade dragon - who the hell was trying to tell him how much of a child they thought he was-

“Matsumoto brought that in for you, Hitsugaya-taichou,” Unohana explained; she must have seen him scowling at it. “The dragon is a symbol of good health; she was hoping it would lift your spirits some.”

Oh. Hitsugaya felt almost sheepish for the earlier mental outburst, and silently apologized to the dragon. It simply stared back at him with its button eyes, as much a sign of forgiveness as he'd ever get.

Gods. I must be really out of it if I'm talking to a toy dragon.

Unohana's hands stopped glowing, and she suddenly slipped her hands beneath Hitsugaya's back and wound bandages back around his chest. He finally caught a glimpse of what Karura's claws had done to him, and he swallowed back bile - red, ragged lines coursed his chest from hip to shoulder. They looked terrible, even though they were clearly on the mend. He wouldn't be surprised if they left scars.

“Yamamoto will want to speak with you as soon as I deem you well enough to sit up on your own.” Unohana explained once she drew the covers back up to Hitsugaya's shoulders. “For now, you need rest. I will have Koutetsu-san come by later to bring you something to eat that will be gentle on your stomach; you may sit up then, but please let her help you.” She turned, preparing to leave the room.

He still had questions. “Unohana-san…”

“Rest, Hitsugaya.” Before he could protest, she placed a gentle hand to his forehead, and the room swirled to black. Just before he faded entirely, however, he heard Unohana's voice whisper, “You made it, young dragon. Thank you.”

.to be continued in part X.

.notes.

Two things. First of all, I know that Iemura is technically the third seat of the Fourth Division. However, from what I could tell of him from the manga, he really isn't much of a healer, hence why I didn't have him step in. Instead, I had a Hanatarou cameo and tossed in an OC; there are often multiple people occupying an officer's seat in each division, hence my decision to do so there.

Secondly, I tried as best I could to stick to Soul Society medicine, but it's really hard to tell what that entails. I basically went through the section of the manga after Aizen's betrayal where the Fourth Division is scrambling around and trying to heal all the injured parties, and did guesswork from there.

So I claim artistic liberty, though if you see mistakes, feel free to point them out. (I know I already made a bunch of canonical errors; I'm trying to figure out how to squeak by on them.)

Hoi! One to two more chapters to go; I have some ground yet to cover. I apologize for how badly this reads, as it was written in random chunks while I was in a variety of moods. And I'm sorry it's so long in coming, too - seriously, I keep forgetting to post this at this site! I'll try to be better about that, and I'm hoping to get this particular story done as soon as I'm able; there will likely be many more “Nice Arc” stories to come.

Feel free to point out any errors; I did minimal editing on this chapter. Thank you to those of you who have been leaving comments here; I can't tell you how much they're appreciated!

… Until next time! -divesunderrock-