Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Whisper ❯ Whisper ( Chapter 1 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Hitsugaya hadn’t shown up all day and frankly, Matsumoto was beginning to worry. It wasn’t unusual lately for her captain to not show up in the office until mid-afternoon lately; Aizen’s incursions into Soul Society often kept him on his toes – or sleeping late the morning after. (It wasn’t uncommon for Unohana-taichou to send a message that Hitsugaya had been kept in the Fourth Division for “enforced bed rest”; Matsumoto had learned not to worry when that happened. In fact, after the first couple times, the image of Hitsugaya drugged out of his mind amused her to no end.)

But now… now she was ready to close the doors of the office, and take her evening meal. Hinamori had not been by, which meant that Hitsugaya had not ended up in the Fourth Division; since Hinamori often found herself helping with light work there, she knew if Hitsugaya had been treated for some battle-related injury and always made sure Matsumoto knew. Matsumoto hated it, but the girl had needed this to recover. Hinamori, upon seeing the many wounded shinigami pass through the Fourth’s care – often cruelly and brutally hurt or killed – had begun to realize just how serious this was.

To realize just how much of a traitor her former captain really was.

Matsumoto sighed as she stood and eyed the piles of finished paperwork on her desk. She crossed the room, slipped through the door and made her way to the courtyard, where a handful of unseated shinigami were lounging, enjoying the last few moments of sunlight. She turned from the sun, her eyes scanning the sky, automatically searching for any signs of Hyourinmaru’s use. She turned away, looking down for a second before sighing; nothing. Not even a chill in the balmy night air. She hadn’t expected it; she’d been keeping her senses open to Hitsugaya and Hyourinmaru all day and nothing had come of it.

Where was he?

Matsumoto raised her hand, calling a hell butterfly and smiling gently when it settled on her fingertips. She whispered her message and sent it toward the Thirteenth’s offices. Ukitake-taichou would help; it was widely known the older captain held a soft spot for his fellow “Shirou-chan”. The message sent, Matsumoto glanced in the direction of the Eight Division headquarters. If Ukitake was involved, Kyouraku would follow. Between those two, if Hitsugaya had not been accounted for by sunset, all of the Gotei 13 squads would be mobilized.

And Matsumoto knew a few shinigami that would lead the charge. She was quick, finally resorting to shunpo as she headed for the Fourth Division, by way of the Eleventh. She was smiling – a small worried smile – as she knocked hesitantly on Isane’s door: Ikkaku and Yumichika had gone out to look, pulling several of their lower division members with them, without hesitation. That ill-fated trip to Living World had been good for something, at least. The shinigami that had worked together there developed a relationship built on, if not trust, then respect of the others’ abilities.

After interrupting Isane’s dinner, and running into a very worried Hinamori, Matsumoto had found no sign of Hitsugaya near the Fourth Division.

During that time, she’d gone from beginning to worry to officially frazzled.

Her captain did not just disappear.

Matsumoto stopped by her quarters to pick up her zanpakutou; officially frazzled during wartime usually meant trouble, she’d come to learn. When she landed on the roof overlooking Tenth’s courtyard, she realized she had no idea where to start.

There was no “last time he disappeared, he’d been in such and such a place”. Hitsugaya simply did not disappear. If he were hurt, someone notified her. If he were late for some reason, he sent her a message. He never – never - walked away without telling her something. (Part of her wanted dearly to thank him someday for doing what Gin did not, but she wasn’t sure if he did it because it was how he operated or because he knew her history and pratfalls.)

Matsumoto did not start when Ukitake appeared beside her; she’d been alert, probing with her reiatsu and he’d been kind enough to not hide his presence.

“Do you have any idea where to start?”

She closed her eyes, pretending she did not hear the worry in his voice. If Ukitake was worried… Better not to think of that. She shook her head. “No, sir. He’s never…” She trailed off; she’d told herself not to think of that, didn’t she.

Ukitake smiled at her and she couldn’t help but relax at his calming presence. “We’ll find him.” He chuckled. “And I’m a sure a certain fukutaichou will give him a dressing down like he’s never heard.”

She had to raise an eyebrow at that, mimicking her taichou’s expression. “I’m sure,” she replied dryly, and Ukitake laughed.

“Why don’t you go north of here?” he said, pointing. “Shunsui is moving east, I will take west, and Madarame will take south. Ayasegawa has volunteered to coordinate messages as well as organize search teams if we deem it necessary after our initial sweep.”

She nodded, very relieved that, finally, someone else was taking over. She didn’t think she could stand the strain much longer and decided then and there that, if she ever qualified for captaincy, she’d never let a soul know. She was quite happy where was she was.

If only her captain would show his face, that was.

She paused before leaving, and looked over her shoulder. “Ukitake-taichou?” The rest of her question was lost; in truth, she wasn’t sure what she was asking.

“Try not to worry,” was his reply. “He will be found.” He motioned her away. “Now, go.”

With a nod – gratitude or acknowledgement, even she wasn’t sure – she did.

It was too quiet, and Hitsugaya hated it. He’d recant every time he’d yelled for quiet if it just meant that his trusted people were by his side. If it meant that anyone who’d fought with him thus far was near. Hell, at this point, he’d take Kurosaki or stick-up-the-ass Kuchiki, just so that someone was watching his back.

Instead, he was alone. Alone in some god forsaken district of Rukongai with a former captain of the Gotei 13 out for his blood. Ichimaru was merciless; that had been proven time and time again. Hitsugaya took a deep breath, banishing the fear and anxiety to the back of his mind. He didn’t have time to fear if he were going to survive this.

He knew Ichimaru watched from the shadows, waiting his moment to attack an already weakened shinigami. Hitsugaya’s eyes darted from side to side, his breath coming a little more rapidly than he wanted, and his hands closing on empty air: Hyourinmaru’s loss - the sword most likely in the hands of his enemy – struck him deeply.

He wouldn’t win this one.

The silence was deafening. He’d give anything just to hear a friendly voice. Hell, to feel something would set his mind at ease.

He’d gotten lax, that’s all. His awareness had been dulled when he’d gone out to think; just a few days ago, he and a team had met Aizen’s arrancar in the 51st District. They were coming closer all the time, invading Rukongai, and slaughtering the population and Hitsugaya was sick of it.

But he didn’t know how to stop it or what purpose it served, so he’d gone out the night before to think, fully intending to be back by morning light.

Now, the morning was long gone and evening approached, and he was near helpless, reduced to prey so Ichimaru could be entertained. He knew the instant it hit him what Ichimaru had done; he’d used the kidou himself once or twice on rebellious shinigami. He’d had it used on him once before, when Hinamori had talked him into being a moving target she could practice on. He hated it then and he hated now; having one’s reiatsu sealed was like deafening an already blind man.

At least, that’s how it felt for him; he’d heard stories about how lesser shinigami weren’t adversely affected. He, however, felt as if he could barely breathe.

And he knew what happened when the seal started to break; he dearly wanted to be back in Seireitei when that happened. When one’s reiatsu fought with an unwillingly placed seal, that shinigami tended to fall ill. It wasn’t life threatening, but it usually left a higher powered shinigami out of commission for three or four days.

He was already at Ichimaru’s mercy; he didn’t want to be sick and at his mercy.

Hitsugaya crouched near a tree, peering through the forest as he leaned against the trunk. With his right hand, he cradled his left wrist, hissing as he inadvertently pressed on the bruises as he shifted. He knew all too well he had a matching bruise on his temple, and probably a nice streak of dried blood on the side of his face. Ichimaru had been quite determined to steal Hyourinmaru.

Why he would, Hitsugaya had no clue unless it was just to completely demoralize him.

It might have been working. Hitsugaya snorted and stood up slowly, right hand trailing along the rough bark of the trunk as he stepped around it. The sun was setting, casting long shadows through the grove and making it nearly impossible to pick out anything in the dim light. Hitsugaya had shed his captain’s cloak hours ago, hoping for a little extra camouflage the bright white would not give. The green sash that secured his zanpakutou to his back was stuffed inside a hollow tree with the cloak and the starburst broach… well, that he hadn’t been able to part with. It resided in a pocket sewn into his sleeve. Before he moved forward – in what he hoped was the direction of Seireitei – he watched the shadows carefully. Any one of them could hide his enemy.

“Lookin’ for me?”

Hitsugaya’s eyes went wide as he spun around, stumbling a little at the unexpected voice. His hands came up as he danced backward, regaining his balance.

Ichimaru’s grin grew even wider; he leaned against the tree that, just moments ago, Hitsugaya had crouched beside, his arms crossed. “Found me, did you?”

Hitsugaya scowled at the teasing and tensed as Ichimaru pushed himself off the tree.

“You’re not so hard t’track down,” Ichimaru said as he stepped forward. “’Specially when you’re just runnin’. Not scared are you, little one?” Another step. “Now why would ya’ be, huh?” Step.

For every step forward Ichimaru took, Hitsugaya took another one back, nearly snarling at the former captain.

“Not sayin’ anything, are you?” Ichimaru stopped and cocked his head. “That doesn’t seem like you. Last time I spoke to you, you was spoiling for a fight.” He suddenly bared his teeth in a mockery of a happy grin. “C’mon, then, taichou. Let’s fight.”

Hitsugaya was already moving when Ichimaru attacked. He scrambled to the side, watching with wide eyes as Ichimaru’s sword barely missed his midsection. Ichimaru landed lightly, turning and pushing off with one foot and followed Hitsugaya, his sword thrust forward. Hitsugaya threw up his arm, hissing as the sword pierced the skin on his forearm and slid upward, slicing a neat gash from wrist to elbow. Ichimaru reversed the swing as soon as the tip was clear and Hitsugaya ducked.

No way was he not fighting back. He dropped into a crouch, sending a low kick designed to sweep Ichimaru’s feet from under him. Ichimaru jumped back, landing softly, and thrust his sword downward. Hitsugaya rolled, barely dodging the sword and came up with handfuls of dirt he promptly let fly. When Ichimaru instinctively blocked with his zanpakutou, Hitsugaya barreled into Ichimaru’s stomach, knocking him backward.

They went down in a tangle of limbs, Hitsugaya grabbing Ichimaru’s wrist and trying to force the sword out of his hand.

He already knew he was woefully outclassed this time around.

Ichimaru’s free hand pushed flat against Hitsugaya’s chest. Hitsugaya had only time to register the grin widening before his world went white. He felt his back hit something solid and unyielding, but didn’t linger on the pain. He crumpled to the ground at the base of a tree, panting harshly and one hand pressing against his burning chest.

“Ah, taichou.” Ichimaru’s voice cut through the haze and it was almost as welcome as a friend’s for that. “Are you done fightin’?” The voice grew louder; Ichimaru finally crouched next to Hitsugaya and reached forward with one slender hand. Hitsugaya flinched and tried to back away, but Ichimaru was quicker. His fingers curled in Hitsugaya’s white hair, holding him in place as he spoke. “Now don’t be rude.” The admonishment was almost gentle. “We have plans for ya’ and I don’t want to have to repeat myself.”

Hitsugaya strained against the hold, one hand wrapping around Ichimaru’s wrist as he tugged and pulled. Ichimaru watched him struggle, seemingly amused. “Looks like we’ll have to get this done b’fore you break the seal on your reiatsu. You’ll be puttin’ up a real fight then.”

Hitsugaya snarled. His free hand balled into a fist and he jerked forward, putting as much behind the punch as he could from his awkward position. It caught Ichimaru on the chin, the crack of bone meeting bone seeming to echo in the sudden silence. The hand in his hair loosened and dropped away.

Time to move. He could still move, right? Time to find out, at any rate. He scrambled forward, and finally lurched to his feet. He’d taken one step when a hand closed around his upper arm and yanked backward. Hitsugaya landed on his back, breath stolen, eyes widening at the blow.

It gave him a perfect view of Ichimaru’s zanpakutou coming down at him.

Cold steel sank into his shoulder. He couldn’t help the cry that escaped as pain erupted around the wound. He bit his lip, searching out Ichimaru with wide eyes. “You…”

“Yes, yes.” Ichimaru was grinning again, poking gently at the redness on his jaw. “You’ll kill me. We’ve been through that before.” He leaned down suddenly, placing the flat of his palm against the pommel of the sword and pressing it into the wound.

Hitsugaya gasped.

“You’re in Aizen-sama’s way.” The sword was twisted ever so slightly, sending tendrils of new pain shooting through Hitsugaya’s shoulder. “And everyone in Seireitei will know that not even a promising young captain such as yourself can stand in the way.”

Hitsugaya drew in a shaky breath in sudden understanding. Ichimaru’s plans for him weren’t broad or far-reaching. He’d just be… killed. No honor. Nothing. And all of Seireitei would be told that not even Hitsugaya-taichou had a chance.

Ichimaru grinned and patted Hitsugaya’s cheek. “Don’t you worry, now. You’ll be going home soon enough.” He pulled the sword free, sending blood splattering against Hitsugaya’s neck, and reached down, his hand closing around a fistful of cloth. He pulled Hitsugaya to his feet, his grin turning feral as he watched the young captain sway unsteadily. “Better hurry, now, taichou. We have places to be.” His hand then closed around Hitsugaya’s injured shoulder and Ichimaru steered him forward.

Hitsugaya stumbled, his breath coming in shallow gasps as he tried, and failed, to reach inside and break the seal on his reiatsu. He panted once, harshly, in frustration and fear.

Ichimaru shoved abruptly at his shoulder. “Keep on walkin’, taichou. It’d be rude of you to make me carry your dead weight all the way back to Seireitei.”

Hitsugaya bit his lip against a yelp and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, if only to buy himself a little time. If Ichimaru only kept him alive because he was lazy, then so be it.

So be it. Time was time. Hitsugaya kept walking, depending on the grip on his shoulder to keep him upright, and hating himself for it.

There was a moment when Matsumoto simply stared at Ukitake and refused to even acknowledge – much less believe – the words he said. No. It simply could not be. Hitsugaya did not just disappear. His reiatsu did not just vanish, and Hyourinmaru’s presence did not just fade away into nothing. She was shaking her head before she spoke. “But… Ukitake-taichou, I can’t believe…”

Ukitake cut her off with one hand held up. “I didn’t ask you to.” He sighed softly; their search had proven fruitless. Not a single person could remember even seeing Hitsugaya all that day. Between Madarame and Abarai, every person who could be intimidated had been questioned. Matsumoto herself had scoured parts of Seireitei she hadn’t known existed. Ukitake and Kyouraku had been back and forth so many times, probing and searching with kidou, reiatsu and sight that there was only one reasonable conclusion.

Hitsugaya-taichou was nowhere near.

(That he was dead was not what Ukitake considered a reasonable conclusion, though it would account for the disappearance of his presence and Hyourinmaru’s. It simply was not reasonable, and it would not be a thought entertained.)

Ukitake watched with hooded eyes as Matsumoto folded her arms under her breasts and hugged herself tightly before nodding once. “If that’s the case, then, Ukitake-taichou, we should widen the search.”

He had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from smiling fondly. Devoted; that’s what she was, and he more than respected that. He watched her fidget, her eyes darting back and forth, for a moment before nodding. “You go on ahead.”

Her wandering gaze snapped to his face.

“You go on ahead,” he repeated. He motioned toward Seireitei’s walls. “It’s obvious you are anxious to continue the search; Kyouraku-taichou and I will muster forces and organize a search.”

“But I…”

“But you will go,” Ukitake insisted. “If you stay in the close districts, we can contact you that much sooner when we have this ready to go, and you’ll have covered that much more ground.”

Matsumoto hesitated before speaking. “I… thank you, Ukitake-taichou.” Her gaze lingered on him for a long moment before she left, shunpo taking her far out of sight in the blink of an eye. Ukitake watched even after she was gone, his best wishes following her.

Hoping for the best seemed trite, but it’s all he could do. He turned away, his thoughts on his fellow “Shirou-chan”. The boy had quite a knack for getting in over his head and Ukitake dearly hoped this was not one of those cases.

But, honestly, he couldn’t think of any other explanation.

Stars exploded behind his eyes as the back of his head impacted with the wooden floor. Hitsugaya stifled a yelp, blinking rapidly in an attempt to clear his vision. Fingernails scraped across the wooden slats as he scrambled to roll to the side, to sit up, to just move. He couldn’t find any purchase and, when he gasped, fell to coughing at the dust that had been raised. He wheezed, unable to draw breath between shock, pain, and dust.

It didn’t matter. Long fingers wrapped around his throat and pulled his head and shoulders off the floor. Ichimaru squeezed, and Hitsugaya choked. His pale face swam in Hitsugaya’s vision, Ichimaru’s reddened cheek standing out in stark contrast.

“That was very, very rude,” Ichimaru told him, and shook him harshly. “Guests do not attack their hosts.” Ichimaru leaned forward, pinning Hitsugaya to the floor. “But I s’pose I couldn’t expect any more from a young taichou.”

Dark spots danced in Hitsugaya’s vision and he scratched at Ichimaru’s grip. His chest felt too tight, the burns and lack of air competing for his attention. Ichimaru used his other hand to grab one of Hitsugaya’s wrists and pulled the younger man’s hand away. “Scratchin’, punchin’… I’m surprised you’re not bitin’ yet.”

Hitsugaya bared his teeth in response; just because he was pinned didn’t mean he was completely out of commission. (Or perhaps he only clung to that tiny bit of hope.)

Ichimaru leaned in, his face merely inches from Hitsugaya’s. “Can you feel your reiatsu boilin’ under that seal? Wantin’ to be free?”

Hitsugaya’s mouth worked as he tried to draw in breath. He had been turned inward, trying to chip away at the seal somehow. Any way he could think of, he tried, and nothing had worked. Nothing would work. One did not just break a seal placed on them by a captain-class shinigami like Ichimaru.

His eyes were slipping closed, half-lidded. It didn’t matter; he couldn’t see anyway. The black spots had spread, joined together, and darkness was all that he could find.

Ichimaru dropped his wrist, and there was a moment of blessed relief as the hand around his throat loosened. “Quit tryin’, taichou,” he whispered. “You ain’t gonna reach that reiatsu of yours.”

And then he drove the heel of his hand into Hitsugaya’s inured shoulder, pain flaring anew as he ground against the stab wound.

The young captain’s mouth dropped in a scream he had no breath for.

“So easy,” he heard distantly. “Stay here, taichou. I have to make sure you’re found.”

Hitsugaya blinked rapidly, trying to push past the pain, trying to draw a breath.

“Oh, don’t look so hopeful.” Ichimaru’s voice was cheerfully mocking. “Are you looking at me?”

Hitsugaya knew he probably shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help but open his eyes as Ichimaru let go of his throat and leaned back. What the hell was he doing? Hitsugaya tried to reach for his reiatsu in a vain attempt to defend himself.

Ichimaru reached behind him and pulled a gleaming sword from the floor, its well-kept blade catching and reflecting the dim light in the room. “Recognize it?”

Hyourinmaru.

Ichimaru stood, caressing the star-shaped guard with deceptively gentle fingers. “It really is a nice zanpakutou.” Then, he flipped it with a practiced hand and stabbed downward.

Hitsugaya couldn’t find the breath or the energy to scream as the tip of his own sword drove into his already wounded shoulder, skimming against his collarbone, and then biting into the wood he lay on.

“You need to stay here.” Ichimaru smiled, crossed the room, and waved from the door. “Don’t you worry; I’ll be back soon enough.”

Hitsugaya didn’t register his leaving; he was too wrapped up in pain to notice anything beyond himself.

In his mind, Hyourinmaru keened quietly.

She was in the Third District. Worry had driven Matsumoto further than she should have gone; she had fully intended to stay close to Seireitei’s walls, in case Ukitake called for her. Instead, she found herself wandering the dense forests that marked this part of Rukongai.

She knew Hitsugaya liked the trees. Her captain had an affinity for nature; though he tended to gravitate toward water, a forest set his mind at ease.

So, Matsumoto found herself trudging through the foliage.

She hadn’t found a damn thing.

“Idiot,” she growled, and she knew she wasn’t speaking of anyone other than herself.

She stopped, nearly smacking her own forehead. It was high time she started making decisions instead of letting her own worry dictate her actions. She was a vice captain, damn it, and she could think this through.

It was time to head back toward Seireitei. Matsumoto turned, snorting at the foliage. Green, green, green…Not a single bit of variety; she almost hated it. She turned in a slow circle; since she was here, she might as well at least try to find something.

Green, green… more green… a dim flash of white… Matsumoto stilled, blinking. There, nestled in that hollow spot, was a bit of white. She might have missed it entirely, if not for the angle of the waning sun. She crossed to it, hands reaching without thinking and snagged the strip of green – a lighter shade than the leaves around – pulling it out with a small cry.

Matsumoto held it up, biting her lip. She’d finally found a sign of her captain, but she didn’t know if it were good or bad. She shuffled the white cloth around, until she found the symbol she almost hoped wasn’t there. Fingers lightly tracing the black diamond, she frowned.

“What the hell…?”

She couldn’t think of a single reason Hitsugaya would stash his haori in a hollow tree, and she knew that carrying Hyourinmaru would be a pain in the ass without that sash. Confusion more than evident, Matsumoto carefully refolded the haori. Worry steadily replaced befuddlement as scenario after scenario played in her mind.

After she came to the conclusion that somewhere, somehow Hitsugaya must have lost his sword – or his mind – she knew good and well they needed to hurry.

She was still holding the sash as she turned to leave.

She would make them step up the search efforts.

Harsh breathing punctuated the dim silence of the shack. The air had gone cold and the sun was gone; earlier shafts of light had pierced through the cracks in the thin walls, and had faintly illuminated the sword’s blade.

Now it quivered with each breath, bathed in a dim light of its own. Its light glinted in the darkness; a beacon should any seek it.

No one, save for the enemy, knew it was there.

Hitsugaya barely knew it was there. Weary fingers clenched, scrabbled at his side, scratching weakly at the blood-soaked wooden floor. His eyes were half-lidded and glassy; consciousness was barely there, held in an elusive grasp.

Cold air washed over him, and he drew in a gasping breath. His back arched, and he whimpered, the hand at his side clenched loosely.

Toushirou.

Hitsugaya moaned. Pain lanced through him, and he couldn’t tell up from down in that moment. A flash of memory – steel, a grin, a cry – and he shut his eyes tightly. His head rolled to the side.

Toushirou.

His eyes flew open. Air coalesced, turning colder. Hyourin…maru…?

The sound of air rushing gently through the shack became a snarl, a faint roar from a distant place. Currents of air swirled above, around him, and in them he saw fangs, a whiskered lip, red eyes glowing with intelligence and passion and…

…and it all died suddenly.

Awareness snapped into place.

Oh, no. No, no, nonono.

Hitsugaya automatically reached inside himself, looking for the dragon that resided there and was met with a wall of rock. Thick, and wide, and all around, it kept him from seeing the most basic of things. From hearing what he never was without.

Hyourinmaru…

He scratched at the wall, pounded against it in panic and frustration and Hitsugaya knew full well that unless this wall broke, he would be dead and he had things to do before that could happen and people to protect and why in hell was he the one pinned by his own damn sword – Ichimaru, you bastard - and he was not going to just lay and wait to die and…

He channeled all the pain – pain from the wounds, pain from the fear, pain from the anger – into one shot.

Hyourinmaru!

Bright blue light exploded around him.

The wall cracked, tendrils of ice creeping through the cracks, shattering the rock bit by bit.

Somewhere – whether in his mind or in the shack he lay in, he didn’t know – a dragon roared.

Harsh, panting breath punctuated his return to awareness. Hitsugaya kept his eyes closed – better not to look – and raised one hand to his burning chest. With trembling fingers, he lightly kneaded the skin there, trying to focus solely on that feeling. Burning was better than stabbing. Marginally.

Ignore the rest.

He knew that was a vain hope; one could not just ignore the pain of a sword grating against bone.

He also knew he couldn’t just wait for Ichimaru to come and free him.

Without opening his eyes, Hitsugaya moved his hand until the tips of his fingers brushed against the blade. He flinched as the pad of his thumb brushed against the edge. This… this would be difficult.

He didn’t know if he could.

Tentatively, he wrapped his hand around the blade and stilled when the edge bit into his fingers.

Oh, no…

Hitsugaya took a shuddering breath. There was no way; the sword would cut his hand to ribbons if he even found the strength to pull. He’d have to wait on Ichimaru.

That thought wrenched a half-panicked, half-angry groan from his throat.

Goddamned bastard was going to burn in hell for this and everything else.

Hitsugaya wondered if he’d be the one sending Ichimaru there or accompanying him. He sighed audibly, a shuddering breath that sent pain shooting through his shoulder and chest.

Can you feel it?

He opened his eyes, instinctively seeking out the owner of that familiar rumbling voice. “Feel?” His voice was raspy, throat raw.

Can you? It’s there.

Hitsugaya swallowed, focusing on… anything. Something. The world dimmed and he was once again met with the rock wall. Ice crept through the cracks, chipping away the rock.

Feel it.

Hitsugaya did; there was an awareness there that hadn’t been since Ichimaru had sealed him.

Soon, Hyourinmaru rumbled.

“Soon won’t be enough,” Hitsugaya replied.

The dragon didn’t respond.

“Help me.”

There was a rumbling around him.

“I said help me.”

Hyourinmaru’s presence washed over him. What would you have me do?

Hitsugaya’s hand wrapped around the blade of his own sword. The sharp edge dug into his palm, sending rivulets of blood running down his wrist. He paid it no attention.

Ice crept all along the wall. Cold air rushed around him. A sound like shattering glass echoed in himself, and in the shack he lay in.

When the wall cracked, ice exploded in the shack. Hyourinmaru’s blade turned cold, the ice searing along the edges of the wound.

Hitsugaya pulled, not quite finding the breath to cry out. The sword clattered on the floor, his hand dropping as well. A presence as real as the ice that covered the floor hovered in the air, deep voice rumbling in approval and pain.

Harsh, panting breath punctuated the sudden stillness, but this time Hitsugaya could finally hear and see. It didn’t matter than his vision swam, or his shoulder burned with icy, horrible pain, or that his head was pounding.

Hyourinmaru was his again.

Slowly, with one hand leaving a bloody trail as he scraped at the floor, he rolled onto this side. Trembling fingers wrapped around the hilt of his sword and he pulled it close.

He wondered how long he had. Best not to think about that.

Getting to his feet was almost more a challenge than breaking the seal on his reiatsu. His legs felt like lead but, after many fumbling attempts, he was on his feet, Hyourinmaru relegated to a support as he lurched toward the door.

If Ichimaru was expecting him to just lie there and wait to die, he was very sorely mistaken.

Ichimaru Gin had stood within sight of the walls of Seireitei and let his presence be felt. Never mind any who felt his reiatsu would know it a trap; his only goal was that they knew he was close, and that they eventually followed him.

That they knew it was Ichimaru Gin who took the life of one of their captains.

That was all they needed to know.

Ichimaru was smiling in satisfaction when he returned to shack in some gods-forsaken corner of the fifth district some minutes ahead of the ones following. Concentrating, he could pick out Ukitake, and Rangiku. His smile grew almost wistful, just for a moment. That woman was hopelessly devoted. This, then, would be good for her. She’d have to learn that everyone left sooner or later, whether by their own choosing or another’s.

A slow slice across the throat; that would be best. Ichimaru could let the young captain bleed out slowly – not too slowly; wouldn’t want help to arrive in time – and just walk away. That would leave him with a bit of hope that died just as slowly as he did.

But, then, it really wasn’t Hitsugaya he was trying to demoralize. Whatever happened, the Tenth Division captain would be the dead one. It would be too late for those poor bastards following to save him.

Ichimaru approached the closed door carefully; he knew too well that things didn’t always turn out as expected. Automatically, he probed the area, smiling ruefully when he didn’t feel Hitsugaya’s presence. Of course he wouldn’t be able to sense him; he’d been sealed by Ichimaru’s own hand.

Though, Ichimaru reflected, Hitsugaya-taichou had often shown resourcefulness beyond his means. His hand dropped to the hilt of his sword. He had been paying attention only to Ukitake and Rangiku, making sure they followed but didn’t catch him. One hand on his sword and one pushing at the door slowly, Ichimaru entered the shack.

A stirring of cold air was his only warning. Ichimaru leaned back, pulling his sword halfway from the sheath to block the swing from his right. He scrambled backward, unsheathing his sword as Hitsugaya pulled back to swing again.

He easily parried, forcing Hitsugaya’s blade up and to the side. “Now, how’d you get outta that?” Ichimaru danced backward, raising an eyebrow, almost amused at the sight.

Hitsugaya, shoulder coated in ice, stood in a defensive hunch just outside the doorway, his sword leveled – but trembling – at Ichimaru. His lips pulled back in a wordless snarl and he charged forward.

It was an advance Ichimaru could easily avoid. With a quick parry and a twist to the side, Ichimaru sent Hitsugaya stumbling past him. Feet sliding in the dry dirt, Ichimaru came to a stop, grinning. “I s’pose this means you want to fight, huh?”

He could oblige.

Ichimaru only had to wait for Hitsugaya to attack, and attack the boy did. Ichimaru, though, easily defended; Shinsou’s blade furiously blocking and shoving away Hitsugaya’s sword. Ichimaru chuckled once when Hitsugaya stumbled on a simple defensive parry.

“You’re lackin’ grace,” Ichimaru called out. “That wound getting to you?”

That comment was met with a disgusted glare and a growl.

The boy was angry. Ichimaru’s grin widened as Hitsugaya adjusted the grip on his zanpakutou and leapt forward with a cry.

The boy was angry, and he was running entirely on that anger. Sooner or later, it would fail him and he’d collapse; it wouldn’t take but a single strike after that to kill him.

Ichimaru rather hoped it would be sooner rather than later. The reiatsu he’d tracked was coming closer all the time, and he really didn’t want to tangle with Ukitake at the moment. (Never mind the reinforcements Ukitake had no doubt called for.)

It was time to end this. He met Hitsugaya’s charge with one of his own.

Their blades clashed.

Hitsugaya shoved against Ichimaru’s sword, his hands trembling under the effort. His shoulder was at its breaking point, he was sure. Hyourinmaru’s weight was supported entirely in one hand at this point; his other was nearly useless, only able to barely hold to the hilt.

He was panting, breath not coming easily.

Breathe.

His foot slipped backward, allowing Ichimaru’s blade that much closer. Hitsugaya gritted his teeth. He needed room, needed to get out of this.

Gods, this was going to hurt.

Breathe. He wasn’t sure if that was his own admonishment or Hyourinmaru’s.

He took a deep breath, put his bad hand against the back of his sword, and shoved.

Ichimaru was only pushed back a few inches, but it was enough for Hitsugaya to leap back. He landed hard, going to one knee, his head bowed.

Ichimaru said something, but Hitsugaya was paying no attention. His shoulder was screaming in pain.

Move!

Hitsugaya learned long ago that when Hyourinmaru gave an order, it was meant to be followed. He rolled to the side, snapping his sword to the side and almost losing his grip when it impacted with Shinsou’s elongated blade.

Shit. Ichimaru had called his shikai, and Hitsugaya hadn’t even noticed.

Hitsugaya stopped, still on his knees, his sword held tightly in one hand, the other curled against his chest.

This had to end. Now.

He snapped Hyourinmaru to the side. “Are you ready?” It was whispered, meant for one entity’s hearing.

It will be weak.

“Doesn’t have to be strong,” Hitsugaya muttered. It was only the diversion. He looked up, settling a narrow-eyed angry gaze on Ichimaru.

Ichimaru pulled Shinsou back, smiling as he aimed for Hitsugaya’s chest.

Hitsugaya tensed, his foot digging into the ground. “Soten ni zase,” he muttered, “Hyourinmaru!” The zanpakutou snapped forward, water and ice flowing to form a roaring dragon that crashed toward Ichimaru.

Weak, it was. Ichimaru would have no trouble dispatching of his shikai at the moment.

Hitsugaya wasn’t counting on his shikai to do anything but distract the former captain. As soon as the dragon was released, he leapt to his feet and shot forward. Not caring about grace or technique – only about getting close enough – Hitsugaya skid to a stop inside Ichimaru’s guard, his sword already moving in a wide arc.

He was rewarded with the smile dropping from Ichimaru’s face.

Ichimaru scrambled, parrying awkwardly.

Hyourinmaru drew a deep furrow in Ichimaru’s side, sending a spray of blood to meet the ice crashing around them. Hitsugaya cried out and tried to bring the sword around for a second blow.

Ichimaru met him, his sword sliding across Hitsugaya’s in another scrambling parry. This one, though, turned into an attack. Ichimaru angled the blade down, twisting around Hitsugaya’s sword. Hitsugaya grit his teeth as the tip struck just under his ribs and buried itself into his side.

Then he heard the scream.

“Taichou!”

Matsumoto.

Ichima ru faltered, eyes widening for a moment before settling back to their customary slitted gaze. Hitsugaya, his sword at an awkward angle, did the only thing he could: he hit him in the side with the flat of the blade.

Probably not the most effective move, but… it was something at least.

Ichimaru snorted. “That was interestin’, taichou.” He reached forward, grabbed Hitsugaya’s wrist above his zanpakutou’s hilt. “I’m not through with you.” He dug his sword in deeper, grinning madly when it forced a gasping cry from Hitsugaya. He shoved, pushing Hitsugaya back several steps. “This war ain’t nowhere near over. Remember that, and remember who was stronger.” Shinsou was twisted and Hitsugaya could only look at Ichimaru with wide, pain-filled eyes as Ichimaru yanked the sword back.

In front of him, through the blood arcing in the air, he saw a flash of white; Ukitake moved between them quickly, zanpakutou drawn. Hitsugaya stumbled backward, near useless hand pressed lightly against the new wound. Ukitake flashed a concerned gaze over his shoulder as he forced Ichimaru back. Ukitake pressed forward, unrelenting in his attack and Ichimaru fell back, smile frozen. He leapt backward, landing lightly several meters away. Ukitake paused, bringing his sword up, ready to call upon it.

For one moment, Ichimaru’s smile fell. Then, grinning again, he spoke. “Take care of your own.” His voice rose. “There’s war coming.” It was almost sing-song, a cheerful announcement of what was to come. He held one hand up, and to his side, the very air seemed to rip apart.

By some miracle – his own waning determination and anger – Hitsugaya was still standing when Ichimaru tossed a salute toward Ukitake and disappeared into the dark portal behind him.

His zanpakutou dropped by the time Matsumoto called to him again.

By the time she’d made it to his side, he was falling. Her hands grabbed his shoulders as he fell and he cried out, jerking out of her grasp and falling awkwardly. He barely registered her cursing or her hands pulling at him to roll him onto his back.

“Taichou?”

Damn, he really did not want to answer her right now. Wearily, he blinked up at her. Her face swam in his vision; why did he feel so damn cold?

Oh, right. Ice. He’s seared his shoulder with ice.

But it wasn’t only his shoulder that was cold.

Matsumoto’s hands were pressed against his cheek and his neck. “Hitsugaya-taichou?” The hand left his cheek to prod at his shoulder.

He flinched. “Don’t touch me.”

Matsumoto reared back, eyes wide and looking positively rejected. Someone settled into his vision next to her, a hand on her shoulder.

“Hitsugaya-kun didn’t mean that quite like it sounded, I’m sure.”

Hitsugaya blinked him into focus; Ukitake. The older captain leaned forward, warm brown eyes concerned. He kept speaking, but Hitsugaya found he could not pick out the words from the rushing in his ears.

And then black spots danced and spread across his vision.

He never heard Matsumoto cry out in alarm or Ukitake speaking to him.

Ukitake was the one who was beside the futon when Hitsugaya finally awoke. He watched with a concerned and bemused small smile as the young captain blinked things into focus. There had been times before, over the last few days, when Hitsugaya had showed signs of waking, even gone as far as to open his eyes, but never quite gained lucidity.

Ukitake rather hoped that, this time, Hitsugaya might regain consciousness altogether.

It seemed he might this time, Ukitake thought as Hitsugaya’s eyes cleared. The small smile became a genuine grin. “Welcome back.”

Hitsugaya flinched, eyes darting around until his gaze landed on Ukitake. With a small sigh, he relaxed, eyes closing briefly before opening again. His brow furrowed, but before he could speak, Ukitake did.

“Hinamori has been in and out so many times I’ve lost count. Matsumoto is finally sleeping.” Ukitake nodded toward the door. “She only left an hour or so ago, and made me promise I’d stay with you until she returned. She was very worried. When you’re feeling better, expect a lecture.”

Hitsugaya’s sigh was more telling than anything he could have said.

“How are you feeling?”

Hitsugaya took a moment to take stock. The answer came to him quickly and without much thought. “Like hell.”

Ukitake nodded. “Unohana-taichou said that was to be expected, considering what you did to yourself. Searing the wound closed with ice? And forcibly weakening a seal on your reiatsu? It’s a wonder you’re awake now.” Ukitake leaned forward, patting Hitsugaya’s arm gently. “You should keep sleeping.”

Hitsugaya found it in himself to quirk an eyebrow.

Ukitake chuckled softly. “Really, you should. Matsumoto is very upset with you for worrying her like that. You’ll be getting an earful as soon as she deems you well enough.”

Hitsugaya sighed; of course he would. He had to be the only captain who was nearly killed and then lectured by his assistant for it.

And he really was very tired.

Like hell hadn’t quite accurately described how he felt, but he wasn’t sure if he could think of a better – or worse – description.

His eyes slid closed again.

“Be well,” he heard Ukitake say. “I won’t tell her you were awake.”

Hitsugaya snorted softly. Matsumoto would find out. She always did, somehow. He drifted to sleep, hoping he’d stay asleep long enough for her ire to calm. Maybe she’d actually do some paperwork in a fit of pique. One could only hope.