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Fanfiction || Treading Icy Waters 06
Title: Treading Icy Waters
Fandom: Bleach
Main Character: Hitsugaya Toushirou
Rating: PG-13
Genre: General/Action/Suspense
Warnings: Occasional language, violence, gore.
Timeline: This story follows the manga's timeline. It begins directly before the Hueco Mundo arc and diverges from there.
Summary: The board has been laid out. The pieces have been set and moved. The pawns are scattered across the floor, and Ichimaru’s fingers are wrapped around a stark white bishop. “That’s another check, little taichou.” The game has only begun.
~*~
"Actions lie louder than words."
-Carolyn Wells
~*~
Chapter Six
Gravity
~*~
Ichimaru Gin leaned rigorously against the back of his chair, pushing it ever closer to the floor as he stretched his taut spine. Las Noches was currently more alive than it had ever been, but in this secluded room the only noise was the lightest of hisses emitting soothingly from the zanpakutou in the corner and the only movement was the fluid motion overcoming Gin’s sleek body like a wave.
Hints of battle tainted his senses for a moment before he sat up straight once again, reveling in the saturnalia of yet another spike of reiatsu silently collapsing in upon itself. Aw. That would be Ukitake’s little girl, Kuchiki’s nee-chan. Too bad, she had been kind of cute. Oh well. That made two down, three to go.
Hmph. If they kept up like this, they’d ruin everything.
Before Ichimaru could muse any further however, another very familiar reiatsu approached his door. Last time it had merely been Tousen, poking around and keeping himself occupied in his own unique sort of way. This time, Gin knew, would be different.
“Ah, Gin,” came the calm, pastoral voice as the door creaked open behind him and admitted his guest into his makeshift domain.
“Aizen,” Gin replied as he spun the chair around slowly, using no honorific but pronouncing each syllable in a clear, concise way as he said no other word in all of his extensive vocabulary.
“Tousen has brought it to my attention that I have been excluding the two of you from my more recent ventures,” the man continued with a grin that was far more deranged than anything Gin could ever come up with for the sole reason that it was entirely genuine. This did not stop him from cracking his own smile in reply though. “I apologize if you have been bored while you have been waiting.”
“Bored? Naw. Whatever gave ya that idea? I’ve been havin’ a blast.”
“I see,” intoned Aizen. And Gin knew very well that he did see. Clearer than anyone else he had ever known. “So that is what happened to Estallar and Hierro. I wondered what had become of them.”
Yeah right.
“Jus’ a lil game I’m playin’,” Ichimaru replied innocently. “Kinda like yers but with simpler rules.” He watched as Aizen’s brow raised just enough to be noticeable but no farther. But his former taichou said nothing, so he continued, grin widening, “Speakin’ of yer game, it don’t seem t’be goin’ too well, ne? You sure you judged ‘em right?”
Aizen met the playful challenge firmly, though his soft smile only seemed to lighten. “I have judged each accordingly and have designated fitting opponents. Though perhaps I did miscalculate slightly in one particular area.” Now it was Gin’s turn to raise his brows. “I believe I may have overestimated them. My strategies can be easily adjusted to this however. I do not foresee it becoming a problem.”
“’Course not,” Ichimaru chimed submissively. His squinting eyes however, held a glisten to them that told an entirely different motive for his words. The tension made the very air within the room unbreathable, yet the two men were in perfect harmony, each knowing exactly what the other really meant within each of their twisted walls of riddles and evasions.
So it was no surprise to Ichimaru Gin when Aizen nodded and replied, “While there is no question that my plans shall succeed locally, there are one or two more distant extensions that warrant looking into.”
Gin’s face could barely contain his wicked smirk as he looked up at his former taichou, the only man he had ever truly pledged any form of loyalty to, the only man he had ever truly respected.
“This game of yours, Gin. I’m very interested.”
~*~
Hitsugaya sat behind the counter of Urahara Shoten once again, feeling that he was rather lacking for the arduous task ahead of him.
Urahara had refused to let him borrow money, insisting he earn it, and so he had had to endure another of the insane salesman’s crack dress sessions. Luckily, today he had been able to effectively remove and hide away the hat. He had experienced a reasonably unpleasant surprise the other day, which Urahara had cheerfully informed him was called “hat hair,” and he did not want to experience said surprise again.
Urahara had also introduced him to his extensive library, full to the brim of shelf upon shelf upon shelf of unread volumes and manuscripts. They were not organized in any order at all, nor were they in anything close to decent condition. He had stared blankly at the dusty enclave, hoping with every fiber of his being that Urahara would tell him he was joking, but he had only patted his back affectionately.
“Good luck.”
The boy grit his teeth, fist clenching as he imagined it firmly taking hold of the former shinigami’s neck. Honestly. It was as if the more people wished him luck, the worse his got.
“Anou, Hitsugaya-kun,” came a familiar, feminine voice. Hitsugaya took a deep breath to quell his frustration before he looked up. Arisawa Tatsuki stood before him; Asano and Kojima stumbled wearily from the back rooms after her, Urahara tagging along briskly beside them. As they were leaving yesterday, looking much more dazed and unbelieving than they had when they had entered, Urahara asked them to keep coming so that he could help them better understand their newfound senses. By their defeated steps and fatigued expressions, Hitsugaya figured this probably involved a lot of unnecessary running around for the sadistic, fan-waving salesman’s own personal enjoyment.
“Yes?” he asked, avoiding her tired eyes.
She sighed, chancing a glance at her two companions. Both were very uninterested in her at the moment, entirely occupied with leaning against anything that would hold their weight up for them. When she turned back to him and sat down purposefully, he couldn’t help but notice that a new vigor had alighted within her. “I wanted to say … I’m sorry for the other day,” she began just a little awkwardly. And he could tell she was avoiding his eyes as well. “I was just … desperate, I guess. No one would tell me what was going on, and I kinda took all that out on anyone who was unlucky enough to be stuck with me. I’ve apologized to pretty much everybody else by now, but I thought I should probably say sorry to you too. So … sorry. Alright?”
Finally, Hitsugaya forced himself to face those eyes. They were world weary and unrest had caused them to redden and swell, but they were looking directly at him, warm and welcoming. She held out her hand. He stared blankly at the slender fingers for a moment before reaching out his own hand and grasping them in a firm hand shake. “Alright.”
“Good. So … er … Want something to drink?”
Hitsugaya nearly cringed. That was what Urahara asked every time he was about to start an uncomfortable conversation. He had only been here for a day and a half, and he could already recognize it. “You want to know about Kurosaki, right?” he grumbled, propping his upper body against the counter top.
Arisawa seemed a little startled, but she recovered quickly. Smiling sheepishly, she replied, “Well, kind of. Actually … I wanted to know … what sort of people he’s fighting right now. Baka-jii didn’t tell us any specifics.”
Another sigh. But, he decided, he might as well. She was as caught up in this mess as he was, after all. He explained about Aizen’s, Ichimaru’s, and Tousen’s treachery and the arrancar. She seemed especially interested in the Espada and had asked him to describe all of the ones he had seen, which wasn’t many. His description of the Tenth Espada, he noted, sent a slight shiver down her spine. When she asked about Hueco Mundo however, Hitsugaya could not give her the answer she wanted. He had never been there and knew absolutely nothing of any worth.
Finally, she leaned back, stretching well-toned but slender muscles as she did so. She looked down at the counter top, the smallest of smiles poking at her chapped lips in a way that, somehow, seemed incredibly sad. “How much would you be willing to bet that Ichigo will come back with Orihime?”
For a while, Hitsugaya was silent. That expression was slowly creeping back to her facial features. Those sad brown eyes and that forlorn haggardness that reminded him so much of Hinamori. Hinamori, crying over Aizen. Hinamori, crying over him. He knew he couldn’t have stayed in Soul Society. Doing so would have only served to waste precious time he did not have. But he still couldn’t help it. He still couldn’t shake this feeling.
He was doing the exact same thing as Aizen.
He too had left behind everything and everyone who cared for him. Hinamori, Matsumoto, the Tenth Division… He had betrayed them all. And that damned, stupid expression always seemed to remind him of that fact.
And now Kurosaki Ichigo was determined to follow in his footsteps. That idiot.
And yet...
Hitsugaya looked into those eyes once more and sighed, taking a deep breath before he answered. “I have no money to bet with,” he grumbled noncommittally at first, causing Arisawa to furrow an ebony brow. When he continued though, his tone was stern and solid, unwavering. “But if I did, I would bet it all that Kurosaki will bring Inoue back in one piece, along with everyone else who followed him through that gateway.”
He did not see Urahara’s smirk, hidden behind one of the more elaborate displays. Nor did he notice when the man silently exited the shop. What he did see was Arisawa’s surprised expression soften into a bittersweet grin.
“Yeah,” she agreed, her voice barely above a whisper. “Me too.”
~*~
Tatsuki, Kojima, and Asano all seemed absolutely determined not to leave. Hitsugaya understood that today was a Friday, but honestly, didn’t they have anything better to do at all? Not that he was entirely against them being here…. When Urahara Kisuke, a stoic man in an apron, and two loud-mouthed children were your only other options, sometimes even bored high school students made good company. But looking down at Asano, squatting under the counter in an attempt to hide as he read the inappropriate magazine Urahara had dumped on Hitsugaya the day before, he couldn’t help but feel that he’d be much better off somewhere far, far away.
Even Hitsugaya had to admit that Tatsuki and Kojima were interesting conversationalists though. Tatsuki, after he had addressed her as “Arisawa” one time too many, had instantaneously discovered his one weakness and had commenced chanting “Shirou-chan!” for a full five minutes before he had finally consented to calling her by her first name. She could get very animated when she talked about things like martial arts or how all of the kids in her class would react if she told them about what was happening, and she was adamantly stubborn when it came to her beliefs and ideals.
For example, when their conversation had strayed to Kurosaki once again, she had declared with a frown that she had hit him once already, and as soon as he returned, she’d follow through with the other fist. When he had asked why, she’d simply said, “Because that idiot deserves it!” He’d raised an eyebrow, smirked his smirk, and replied that when the time came, he’d hold him down for her.
While Tatsuki was certainly the livelier, Kojima was also eye-catching. He, unlike his two companions, was completely new to his spiritual senses. But he seemed entirely okay with all of it. He was not deterred in the least, nor had his manners changed in the slightest. He took all of it at face value and accepted it as the single explanation that fit with everything currently happening. He was also amazing at reading other people and reacting accordingly, a little like Urahara but much more subtle. He could change his own mannerisms as quickly as Asano’s dramatic fits could come and go, and he was able to catch on to the slightest changes in Tatsuki’s moods and react accordingly.
He spoke with Hitsugaya not as if he was a kid, as the other two often did, but as an equal or even an elder. Their conversations were intelligent yet simple and to the point. He was by far the easiest to get valuable information from as well as the easiest to understand.
Before Hitsugaya could muse about the others any further though, the softest ting of a bell rang, and Urahara reentered the shop happily chattering to … a cat. Well, Urahara was Urahara after all. To be honest, Hitsugaya wasn’t all that surprised. It wasn’t until the cat rolled its eyes at its cheerful companion, turned to face him, nearly coughed up a hairball, and then ran out of the room with a wickedly grinning Urahara right behind that Hitsugaya became truly perturbed.
“What was that all about?” Asano asked, peaking out from under the counter top.
“Stay here,” Hitsugaya commanded, scowling as he stomped down the steps to the back rooms irritably. Luckily, it seemed these three were actually willing to listen to him.
“Kisuke! What the hell is he doing here?!”
“A wonderful tale of heart break and woe to be told at a later date, my dear Yoruichi!” Urahara’s fluttering voice echoed as Hitsugaya froze in his decent. Had he just said … Yoruichi…? “I came to get you for another matter entirely.”
“And do I really want to know?” Hitsugaya could sense a familiar frustration in the husky voice.
“Of course, you do! Why else would I come get you?” the salesman affronted mockingly. The speed with which this lack of seriousness dissipated however, was rather disturbing to the eavesdropping shinigami. “It’s time. Can you feel it?”
Hitsugaya could.
Honestly, who couldn’t?
Forgetting entirely about Urahara and his companion, he ran down the rest of the length of the stairs, past the grinning man and the talking cat, and down many an as of yet unexplored hallway. He followed that unforgettable reiatsu as far as it took him, until he stood before a large, hand-crafted gateway. Light erupted from the portal, hoarse screaming and yelling and sounds of rushing feet ushering from its intense, blinding rays.
Then, a silhouette stumbled into the room, breathing hard and looking rather worse for wear, just barely managing to support someone on his back.
“Kurosaki Ichigo.”
~*~
Ichigo didn’t know what exactly he should concentrate on: the cero beams whizzing by his head, the blood oozing into his eyes, Chad trying to push himself off of his back, his wavering balance, or the shrimp of a taichou staring him down. He decided to go with the shrimp.
“Toushirou!”
“What are you talking about, Ichi-! Hi-Hit-Hitsugaya-taichou!?”
Renji, cradling an unconscious Rukia in his arms, looked down at Hitsugaya in awe as Orihime and Uryuu, propping each other up by their shoulders, finally made it through the gateway. The bright light promptly disappeared, leaving the new arrivals to stare at their greeter in varying levels of confusion and shock.
Ichigo saw Toushirou’s gaze shift to Rukia’s limp form, eyes narrowing as they crossed over the torn and bloodstained shihakushou. She was definitely in the worst shape of all of them. “Well, what are you waiting for, you idiots?! I’m sure Inoue is dying to heal you morons, so stop ogling and let her already!”
His sharp, commanding voice pulled them out of their reveries, and they quickly began shuffling about. Renji set Rukia down gently on the ground, and Orihime immediately called on her Shun Shun Rikka and got to work. Ichigo let go of Chad as the much larger man sat down cross-legged on the ground, nursing a fair amount of ugly gashes around his middle and right side. Orihime had better hurry, or else the big guy was in for some real trouble. Ichigo himself was sporting some pretty frightening injuries, as were Uryuu and Renji, but they weren’t yet on the verge of death. They had each been able to count on the help of an extra partner, however annoying, and that had obviously made a difference, no matter how much it pained Ichigo to say it. Orihime was the least wounded, but even she had collected plenty of cuts and bruises, a particularly large cut across her hand being part of the reason they had all made it out of that place alive. Ichigo would definitely have to thank her for that later.
But for now… “Yo, Toushirou! What’re you doing here?”
“What does it look like? I’m watching you impulsive numbskulls make fools of yourselves. Did you idiots even have enough time to think about the potential consequences of your ridiculously stupid actions before you charged off into-” Ichigo had stopped listening at “impulsive numbskulls” but quickly noticed when the short taichou had silenced, mouth still open in mid-lecture.
“Kurosaki.” His voice was strained and clearly impatient.
“Yeah?” he ventured defensively.
“What exactly is that thing attached to your leg?”
Ichigo looked blankly at Hitsugaya for a moment before finally looking down. A shy and rather distressed head, skull-shaped hollow mask and all, was peeking out hesitantly from behind his leg. He blanched.
“Nell?! What the hell are you doing here?! You’re supposed to be with Pesshe and Chakker! They’re gonna freak when they find out you’re gone!”
“But it was scary there! I wanted to stay with Ichigo!” the tiny arrancar wailed, clutching the material around his leg even tighter.
Toushirou clamped his forehead as if in pain. Ichigo couldn’t help but resent that a bit, seeing as he was the one person in the room who wasn’t injured. “You didn’t even notice it was there?” he spoke, his tone measured and held back through clenched teeth.
“Look,” Ichigo grumbled, not in the best of moods after what he had just endured, “She’s harmless. Besides, if you were being chased around by insane Espada with crazy, shinigami crushing powers, I doubt you’d be able to notice anything either! We must’ve seriously pissed Aizen off. I really didn’t think we were going to make it for a while there!”
“Believe me, if Aizen had really been pissed, you wouldn’t have made it. The only reason you could have survived is that he wanted you to.”
Alright. That was it. The single statement was far too much for Ichigo to deal with at the moment. “What the hell?! I just get back from risking my ass in Crazy Hollow World, and the first thing I get is some half-pint in my face telling me it was all useless?! What the hell do you mean we couldn’t have survived?!”
“Kurosaki!” Ichigo stopped. Toushirou’s hands were no longer cradling his forehead, and his oceanic eyes were focused venomously upon him, much more violent and passionate than Ichigo had ever expected. Nearly all eyes were on the two now, even Orihime’s. He could feel Nell’s little fingernails biting into his leg. The small shinigami advanced on him as he sent out his verbal tirade. “When I felt Abarai and Kuchiki leave Soul Society, it took every ounce of self-control I had to keep from stopping them because I knew that if they chased after you into Hueco Mundo, the chances of them ever returning at all, let alone alive, could be rounded to zero! If Aizen wanted you dead, you know very well you would be.”
Kurosaki Ichigo stared mutely down at the frighteningly serious taichou, utterly incapable of unearthing any sort of retort. He heard the distinct sound of Renji gulping from behind him.
“He’s right, you know,” came a familiar voice as he felt something slap down onto his head. Ichigo whirled around to face the unforgettable duo.
“Getaboushi! Yoruichi!”
“Good to see you too,” emitted from the cat’s mouth, just before it transformed into a very beautiful, very naked woman. “Ichigo.”
~*~
Hitsugaya could still feel the heat of the blush that had engulfed his entire face the instant Shihouin had transformed. He had most definitely not been expecting that. But it had certainly sobered him of his rage, that much was sure.
By now, at least, she had pulled some clothes on. Inoue had finished healing nearly everyone. Urahara had offered his greeting and one or two condensed and contradictory explanations. Kuchiki Rukia was sleeping soundly, and Inoue was fussing over Ichigo, who had insisted on being the last to be healed. Ichigo, on the other hand, was still snickering at Hitsugaya’s reaction. Hitsugaya could tell that Abarai very much wanted to do the same, but he was fighting his urges until he knew the former taichou was out of ear shot.
Of course, he had yet to realize that Hitsugaya was very likely stripped of his rank. And the white-crowned shinigami was just fine with keeping it that way.
“Well, come on, come on. If you don’t stop messing around down here, they’ll leave without you!” Urahara called out merrily, grinning innocently as he received many questioning gazes.
Hitsugaya’s eyes widened considerably. He had completely forgotten about those three. Hastily he extended his senses, searching the ground floor. Surprisingly enough, they were still there. For a moment, Hitsugaya wondered whether their senses had developed enough for them to have felt Kurosaki’s presence. Most likely. To be honest, he would be more surprised if they had missed it. Which meant they were about to walk into a shop containing one infuriated Tatsuki, one overdramatic Asano, and only one Kojima to hold back the two.
He glanced meaningfully at Urahara as the man ushered the newly healed group toward the exit and promised over and over that Kuchiki would be just fine, but he received only a wanton smirk in return. Oh well. Perhaps the shock would do Kurosaki some good.
Hitsugaya trailed behind the group, intent on keeping away from the others by a good four or five feet at least. He didn’t really feel in the mood for conversation at the moment. Kurosaki obviously felt otherwise. The orange haired teenager dismissed himself from Inoue’s grasp with a sheepish grin before lagging behind and waiting for Hitsugaya to catch up. He knew there was no point to avoiding him, so he continued his course through the house and muttered an unenthusiastic, “What?”
“There’s something … weird about you,” Kurosaki frowned as if looking for the right words to explain his point and not finding them. Hitsugaya’s eyes narrowed. “I can’t explain it. It’s just … not right.”
“What makes you say that?” he questioned softly.
“I don’t know. I just … feel it, you know?” the substitute shinigami continued to struggle. “And…”
“And what?”
“Well … you didn’t correct me when I called you ‘Toushirou.’”
Hitsugaya froze. Ever since the moment he had left Soul Society, it had constantly been in his head that he no longer deserved the title he had defended so furiously in the past. He had beaten it into his brain that, even if he did survive this nonsense, he would most likely lose his headship of the Tenth Division. At the very least. He had made sure that he no longer considered himself of any ranking at all. He was outcast; not even, seeing as he had left on his own.
But he had not realized that such a disposition had manifested itself outside of his mind.
He let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, then continued on his march. “That is none of your business, Kurosaki,” he grunted as they finally reached the stairway to the storefront. “I thought you had learned your lesson after ‘Crazy Hollow World.’”
“Whatever,” the teenaged shinigami sighed, reaching out to open the door only to find that it was already wide open and that a vengeful Arisawa Tatsuki was brandishing a fist less than a foot in front of him.
Damn it. Why did that idiot have to be so observant?
In the end, Hitsugaya kept his word.
He held Kurosaki tightly in place as Tatsuki let her fist fly.
Fandom: Bleach
Main Character: Hitsugaya Toushirou
Rating: PG-13
Genre: General/Action/Suspense
Warnings: Occasional language, violence, gore.
Timeline: This story follows the manga's timeline. It begins directly before the Hueco Mundo arc and diverges from there.
Summary: The board has been laid out. The pieces have been set and moved. The pawns are scattered across the floor, and Ichimaru’s fingers are wrapped around a stark white bishop. “That’s another check, little taichou.” The game has only begun.
"Actions lie louder than words."
-Carolyn Wells
~*~
Chapter Six
Gravity
~*~
Ichimaru Gin leaned rigorously against the back of his chair, pushing it ever closer to the floor as he stretched his taut spine. Las Noches was currently more alive than it had ever been, but in this secluded room the only noise was the lightest of hisses emitting soothingly from the zanpakutou in the corner and the only movement was the fluid motion overcoming Gin’s sleek body like a wave.
Hints of battle tainted his senses for a moment before he sat up straight once again, reveling in the saturnalia of yet another spike of reiatsu silently collapsing in upon itself. Aw. That would be Ukitake’s little girl, Kuchiki’s nee-chan. Too bad, she had been kind of cute. Oh well. That made two down, three to go.
Hmph. If they kept up like this, they’d ruin everything.
Before Ichimaru could muse any further however, another very familiar reiatsu approached his door. Last time it had merely been Tousen, poking around and keeping himself occupied in his own unique sort of way. This time, Gin knew, would be different.
“Ah, Gin,” came the calm, pastoral voice as the door creaked open behind him and admitted his guest into his makeshift domain.
“Aizen,” Gin replied as he spun the chair around slowly, using no honorific but pronouncing each syllable in a clear, concise way as he said no other word in all of his extensive vocabulary.
“Tousen has brought it to my attention that I have been excluding the two of you from my more recent ventures,” the man continued with a grin that was far more deranged than anything Gin could ever come up with for the sole reason that it was entirely genuine. This did not stop him from cracking his own smile in reply though. “I apologize if you have been bored while you have been waiting.”
“Bored? Naw. Whatever gave ya that idea? I’ve been havin’ a blast.”
“I see,” intoned Aizen. And Gin knew very well that he did see. Clearer than anyone else he had ever known. “So that is what happened to Estallar and Hierro. I wondered what had become of them.”
Yeah right.
“Jus’ a lil game I’m playin’,” Ichimaru replied innocently. “Kinda like yers but with simpler rules.” He watched as Aizen’s brow raised just enough to be noticeable but no farther. But his former taichou said nothing, so he continued, grin widening, “Speakin’ of yer game, it don’t seem t’be goin’ too well, ne? You sure you judged ‘em right?”
Aizen met the playful challenge firmly, though his soft smile only seemed to lighten. “I have judged each accordingly and have designated fitting opponents. Though perhaps I did miscalculate slightly in one particular area.” Now it was Gin’s turn to raise his brows. “I believe I may have overestimated them. My strategies can be easily adjusted to this however. I do not foresee it becoming a problem.”
“’Course not,” Ichimaru chimed submissively. His squinting eyes however, held a glisten to them that told an entirely different motive for his words. The tension made the very air within the room unbreathable, yet the two men were in perfect harmony, each knowing exactly what the other really meant within each of their twisted walls of riddles and evasions.
So it was no surprise to Ichimaru Gin when Aizen nodded and replied, “While there is no question that my plans shall succeed locally, there are one or two more distant extensions that warrant looking into.”
Gin’s face could barely contain his wicked smirk as he looked up at his former taichou, the only man he had ever truly pledged any form of loyalty to, the only man he had ever truly respected.
“This game of yours, Gin. I’m very interested.”
Hitsugaya sat behind the counter of Urahara Shoten once again, feeling that he was rather lacking for the arduous task ahead of him.
Urahara had refused to let him borrow money, insisting he earn it, and so he had had to endure another of the insane salesman’s crack dress sessions. Luckily, today he had been able to effectively remove and hide away the hat. He had experienced a reasonably unpleasant surprise the other day, which Urahara had cheerfully informed him was called “hat hair,” and he did not want to experience said surprise again.
Urahara had also introduced him to his extensive library, full to the brim of shelf upon shelf upon shelf of unread volumes and manuscripts. They were not organized in any order at all, nor were they in anything close to decent condition. He had stared blankly at the dusty enclave, hoping with every fiber of his being that Urahara would tell him he was joking, but he had only patted his back affectionately.
“Good luck.”
The boy grit his teeth, fist clenching as he imagined it firmly taking hold of the former shinigami’s neck. Honestly. It was as if the more people wished him luck, the worse his got.
“Anou, Hitsugaya-kun,” came a familiar, feminine voice. Hitsugaya took a deep breath to quell his frustration before he looked up. Arisawa Tatsuki stood before him; Asano and Kojima stumbled wearily from the back rooms after her, Urahara tagging along briskly beside them. As they were leaving yesterday, looking much more dazed and unbelieving than they had when they had entered, Urahara asked them to keep coming so that he could help them better understand their newfound senses. By their defeated steps and fatigued expressions, Hitsugaya figured this probably involved a lot of unnecessary running around for the sadistic, fan-waving salesman’s own personal enjoyment.
“Yes?” he asked, avoiding her tired eyes.
She sighed, chancing a glance at her two companions. Both were very uninterested in her at the moment, entirely occupied with leaning against anything that would hold their weight up for them. When she turned back to him and sat down purposefully, he couldn’t help but notice that a new vigor had alighted within her. “I wanted to say … I’m sorry for the other day,” she began just a little awkwardly. And he could tell she was avoiding his eyes as well. “I was just … desperate, I guess. No one would tell me what was going on, and I kinda took all that out on anyone who was unlucky enough to be stuck with me. I’ve apologized to pretty much everybody else by now, but I thought I should probably say sorry to you too. So … sorry. Alright?”
Finally, Hitsugaya forced himself to face those eyes. They were world weary and unrest had caused them to redden and swell, but they were looking directly at him, warm and welcoming. She held out her hand. He stared blankly at the slender fingers for a moment before reaching out his own hand and grasping them in a firm hand shake. “Alright.”
“Good. So … er … Want something to drink?”
Hitsugaya nearly cringed. That was what Urahara asked every time he was about to start an uncomfortable conversation. He had only been here for a day and a half, and he could already recognize it. “You want to know about Kurosaki, right?” he grumbled, propping his upper body against the counter top.
Arisawa seemed a little startled, but she recovered quickly. Smiling sheepishly, she replied, “Well, kind of. Actually … I wanted to know … what sort of people he’s fighting right now. Baka-jii didn’t tell us any specifics.”
Another sigh. But, he decided, he might as well. She was as caught up in this mess as he was, after all. He explained about Aizen’s, Ichimaru’s, and Tousen’s treachery and the arrancar. She seemed especially interested in the Espada and had asked him to describe all of the ones he had seen, which wasn’t many. His description of the Tenth Espada, he noted, sent a slight shiver down her spine. When she asked about Hueco Mundo however, Hitsugaya could not give her the answer she wanted. He had never been there and knew absolutely nothing of any worth.
Finally, she leaned back, stretching well-toned but slender muscles as she did so. She looked down at the counter top, the smallest of smiles poking at her chapped lips in a way that, somehow, seemed incredibly sad. “How much would you be willing to bet that Ichigo will come back with Orihime?”
For a while, Hitsugaya was silent. That expression was slowly creeping back to her facial features. Those sad brown eyes and that forlorn haggardness that reminded him so much of Hinamori. Hinamori, crying over Aizen. Hinamori, crying over him. He knew he couldn’t have stayed in Soul Society. Doing so would have only served to waste precious time he did not have. But he still couldn’t help it. He still couldn’t shake this feeling.
He was doing the exact same thing as Aizen.
He too had left behind everything and everyone who cared for him. Hinamori, Matsumoto, the Tenth Division… He had betrayed them all. And that damned, stupid expression always seemed to remind him of that fact.
And now Kurosaki Ichigo was determined to follow in his footsteps. That idiot.
And yet...
Hitsugaya looked into those eyes once more and sighed, taking a deep breath before he answered. “I have no money to bet with,” he grumbled noncommittally at first, causing Arisawa to furrow an ebony brow. When he continued though, his tone was stern and solid, unwavering. “But if I did, I would bet it all that Kurosaki will bring Inoue back in one piece, along with everyone else who followed him through that gateway.”
He did not see Urahara’s smirk, hidden behind one of the more elaborate displays. Nor did he notice when the man silently exited the shop. What he did see was Arisawa’s surprised expression soften into a bittersweet grin.
“Yeah,” she agreed, her voice barely above a whisper. “Me too.”
Tatsuki, Kojima, and Asano all seemed absolutely determined not to leave. Hitsugaya understood that today was a Friday, but honestly, didn’t they have anything better to do at all? Not that he was entirely against them being here…. When Urahara Kisuke, a stoic man in an apron, and two loud-mouthed children were your only other options, sometimes even bored high school students made good company. But looking down at Asano, squatting under the counter in an attempt to hide as he read the inappropriate magazine Urahara had dumped on Hitsugaya the day before, he couldn’t help but feel that he’d be much better off somewhere far, far away.
Even Hitsugaya had to admit that Tatsuki and Kojima were interesting conversationalists though. Tatsuki, after he had addressed her as “Arisawa” one time too many, had instantaneously discovered his one weakness and had commenced chanting “Shirou-chan!” for a full five minutes before he had finally consented to calling her by her first name. She could get very animated when she talked about things like martial arts or how all of the kids in her class would react if she told them about what was happening, and she was adamantly stubborn when it came to her beliefs and ideals.
For example, when their conversation had strayed to Kurosaki once again, she had declared with a frown that she had hit him once already, and as soon as he returned, she’d follow through with the other fist. When he had asked why, she’d simply said, “Because that idiot deserves it!” He’d raised an eyebrow, smirked his smirk, and replied that when the time came, he’d hold him down for her.
While Tatsuki was certainly the livelier, Kojima was also eye-catching. He, unlike his two companions, was completely new to his spiritual senses. But he seemed entirely okay with all of it. He was not deterred in the least, nor had his manners changed in the slightest. He took all of it at face value and accepted it as the single explanation that fit with everything currently happening. He was also amazing at reading other people and reacting accordingly, a little like Urahara but much more subtle. He could change his own mannerisms as quickly as Asano’s dramatic fits could come and go, and he was able to catch on to the slightest changes in Tatsuki’s moods and react accordingly.
He spoke with Hitsugaya not as if he was a kid, as the other two often did, but as an equal or even an elder. Their conversations were intelligent yet simple and to the point. He was by far the easiest to get valuable information from as well as the easiest to understand.
Before Hitsugaya could muse about the others any further though, the softest ting of a bell rang, and Urahara reentered the shop happily chattering to … a cat. Well, Urahara was Urahara after all. To be honest, Hitsugaya wasn’t all that surprised. It wasn’t until the cat rolled its eyes at its cheerful companion, turned to face him, nearly coughed up a hairball, and then ran out of the room with a wickedly grinning Urahara right behind that Hitsugaya became truly perturbed.
“What was that all about?” Asano asked, peaking out from under the counter top.
“Stay here,” Hitsugaya commanded, scowling as he stomped down the steps to the back rooms irritably. Luckily, it seemed these three were actually willing to listen to him.
“Kisuke! What the hell is he doing here?!”
“A wonderful tale of heart break and woe to be told at a later date, my dear Yoruichi!” Urahara’s fluttering voice echoed as Hitsugaya froze in his decent. Had he just said … Yoruichi…? “I came to get you for another matter entirely.”
“And do I really want to know?” Hitsugaya could sense a familiar frustration in the husky voice.
“Of course, you do! Why else would I come get you?” the salesman affronted mockingly. The speed with which this lack of seriousness dissipated however, was rather disturbing to the eavesdropping shinigami. “It’s time. Can you feel it?”
Hitsugaya could.
Honestly, who couldn’t?
Forgetting entirely about Urahara and his companion, he ran down the rest of the length of the stairs, past the grinning man and the talking cat, and down many an as of yet unexplored hallway. He followed that unforgettable reiatsu as far as it took him, until he stood before a large, hand-crafted gateway. Light erupted from the portal, hoarse screaming and yelling and sounds of rushing feet ushering from its intense, blinding rays.
Then, a silhouette stumbled into the room, breathing hard and looking rather worse for wear, just barely managing to support someone on his back.
“Kurosaki Ichigo.”
Ichigo didn’t know what exactly he should concentrate on: the cero beams whizzing by his head, the blood oozing into his eyes, Chad trying to push himself off of his back, his wavering balance, or the shrimp of a taichou staring him down. He decided to go with the shrimp.
“Toushirou!”
“What are you talking about, Ichi-! Hi-Hit-Hitsugaya-taichou!?”
Renji, cradling an unconscious Rukia in his arms, looked down at Hitsugaya in awe as Orihime and Uryuu, propping each other up by their shoulders, finally made it through the gateway. The bright light promptly disappeared, leaving the new arrivals to stare at their greeter in varying levels of confusion and shock.
Ichigo saw Toushirou’s gaze shift to Rukia’s limp form, eyes narrowing as they crossed over the torn and bloodstained shihakushou. She was definitely in the worst shape of all of them. “Well, what are you waiting for, you idiots?! I’m sure Inoue is dying to heal you morons, so stop ogling and let her already!”
His sharp, commanding voice pulled them out of their reveries, and they quickly began shuffling about. Renji set Rukia down gently on the ground, and Orihime immediately called on her Shun Shun Rikka and got to work. Ichigo let go of Chad as the much larger man sat down cross-legged on the ground, nursing a fair amount of ugly gashes around his middle and right side. Orihime had better hurry, or else the big guy was in for some real trouble. Ichigo himself was sporting some pretty frightening injuries, as were Uryuu and Renji, but they weren’t yet on the verge of death. They had each been able to count on the help of an extra partner, however annoying, and that had obviously made a difference, no matter how much it pained Ichigo to say it. Orihime was the least wounded, but even she had collected plenty of cuts and bruises, a particularly large cut across her hand being part of the reason they had all made it out of that place alive. Ichigo would definitely have to thank her for that later.
But for now… “Yo, Toushirou! What’re you doing here?”
“What does it look like? I’m watching you impulsive numbskulls make fools of yourselves. Did you idiots even have enough time to think about the potential consequences of your ridiculously stupid actions before you charged off into-” Ichigo had stopped listening at “impulsive numbskulls” but quickly noticed when the short taichou had silenced, mouth still open in mid-lecture.
“Kurosaki.” His voice was strained and clearly impatient.
“Yeah?” he ventured defensively.
“What exactly is that thing attached to your leg?”
Ichigo looked blankly at Hitsugaya for a moment before finally looking down. A shy and rather distressed head, skull-shaped hollow mask and all, was peeking out hesitantly from behind his leg. He blanched.
“Nell?! What the hell are you doing here?! You’re supposed to be with Pesshe and Chakker! They’re gonna freak when they find out you’re gone!”
“But it was scary there! I wanted to stay with Ichigo!” the tiny arrancar wailed, clutching the material around his leg even tighter.
Toushirou clamped his forehead as if in pain. Ichigo couldn’t help but resent that a bit, seeing as he was the one person in the room who wasn’t injured. “You didn’t even notice it was there?” he spoke, his tone measured and held back through clenched teeth.
“Look,” Ichigo grumbled, not in the best of moods after what he had just endured, “She’s harmless. Besides, if you were being chased around by insane Espada with crazy, shinigami crushing powers, I doubt you’d be able to notice anything either! We must’ve seriously pissed Aizen off. I really didn’t think we were going to make it for a while there!”
“Believe me, if Aizen had really been pissed, you wouldn’t have made it. The only reason you could have survived is that he wanted you to.”
Alright. That was it. The single statement was far too much for Ichigo to deal with at the moment. “What the hell?! I just get back from risking my ass in Crazy Hollow World, and the first thing I get is some half-pint in my face telling me it was all useless?! What the hell do you mean we couldn’t have survived?!”
“Kurosaki!” Ichigo stopped. Toushirou’s hands were no longer cradling his forehead, and his oceanic eyes were focused venomously upon him, much more violent and passionate than Ichigo had ever expected. Nearly all eyes were on the two now, even Orihime’s. He could feel Nell’s little fingernails biting into his leg. The small shinigami advanced on him as he sent out his verbal tirade. “When I felt Abarai and Kuchiki leave Soul Society, it took every ounce of self-control I had to keep from stopping them because I knew that if they chased after you into Hueco Mundo, the chances of them ever returning at all, let alone alive, could be rounded to zero! If Aizen wanted you dead, you know very well you would be.”
Kurosaki Ichigo stared mutely down at the frighteningly serious taichou, utterly incapable of unearthing any sort of retort. He heard the distinct sound of Renji gulping from behind him.
“He’s right, you know,” came a familiar voice as he felt something slap down onto his head. Ichigo whirled around to face the unforgettable duo.
“Getaboushi! Yoruichi!”
“Good to see you too,” emitted from the cat’s mouth, just before it transformed into a very beautiful, very naked woman. “Ichigo.”
Hitsugaya could still feel the heat of the blush that had engulfed his entire face the instant Shihouin had transformed. He had most definitely not been expecting that. But it had certainly sobered him of his rage, that much was sure.
By now, at least, she had pulled some clothes on. Inoue had finished healing nearly everyone. Urahara had offered his greeting and one or two condensed and contradictory explanations. Kuchiki Rukia was sleeping soundly, and Inoue was fussing over Ichigo, who had insisted on being the last to be healed. Ichigo, on the other hand, was still snickering at Hitsugaya’s reaction. Hitsugaya could tell that Abarai very much wanted to do the same, but he was fighting his urges until he knew the former taichou was out of ear shot.
Of course, he had yet to realize that Hitsugaya was very likely stripped of his rank. And the white-crowned shinigami was just fine with keeping it that way.
“Well, come on, come on. If you don’t stop messing around down here, they’ll leave without you!” Urahara called out merrily, grinning innocently as he received many questioning gazes.
Hitsugaya’s eyes widened considerably. He had completely forgotten about those three. Hastily he extended his senses, searching the ground floor. Surprisingly enough, they were still there. For a moment, Hitsugaya wondered whether their senses had developed enough for them to have felt Kurosaki’s presence. Most likely. To be honest, he would be more surprised if they had missed it. Which meant they were about to walk into a shop containing one infuriated Tatsuki, one overdramatic Asano, and only one Kojima to hold back the two.
He glanced meaningfully at Urahara as the man ushered the newly healed group toward the exit and promised over and over that Kuchiki would be just fine, but he received only a wanton smirk in return. Oh well. Perhaps the shock would do Kurosaki some good.
Hitsugaya trailed behind the group, intent on keeping away from the others by a good four or five feet at least. He didn’t really feel in the mood for conversation at the moment. Kurosaki obviously felt otherwise. The orange haired teenager dismissed himself from Inoue’s grasp with a sheepish grin before lagging behind and waiting for Hitsugaya to catch up. He knew there was no point to avoiding him, so he continued his course through the house and muttered an unenthusiastic, “What?”
“There’s something … weird about you,” Kurosaki frowned as if looking for the right words to explain his point and not finding them. Hitsugaya’s eyes narrowed. “I can’t explain it. It’s just … not right.”
“What makes you say that?” he questioned softly.
“I don’t know. I just … feel it, you know?” the substitute shinigami continued to struggle. “And…”
“And what?”
“Well … you didn’t correct me when I called you ‘Toushirou.’”
Hitsugaya froze. Ever since the moment he had left Soul Society, it had constantly been in his head that he no longer deserved the title he had defended so furiously in the past. He had beaten it into his brain that, even if he did survive this nonsense, he would most likely lose his headship of the Tenth Division. At the very least. He had made sure that he no longer considered himself of any ranking at all. He was outcast; not even, seeing as he had left on his own.
But he had not realized that such a disposition had manifested itself outside of his mind.
He let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, then continued on his march. “That is none of your business, Kurosaki,” he grunted as they finally reached the stairway to the storefront. “I thought you had learned your lesson after ‘Crazy Hollow World.’”
“Whatever,” the teenaged shinigami sighed, reaching out to open the door only to find that it was already wide open and that a vengeful Arisawa Tatsuki was brandishing a fist less than a foot in front of him.
Damn it. Why did that idiot have to be so observant?
In the end, Hitsugaya kept his word.
He held Kurosaki tightly in place as Tatsuki let her fist fly.