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Fanfiction || Treading Icy Waters 14
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.
~*~
“Men are not prisoners of fate, but only prisoners of their own minds.”
-Franklin D. Roosevelt
~*~
Chapter Fourteen
Put Up Your Good Hand
~*~
Urahara Kisuke rubbed the sleep from his eyes, setting the newly repaired gigai down on the closest couch. It was half-undressed, limp, and about to fall over onto the floor. He swore he even saw drool trickling from its lips. The absolute best part of it all: it looked exactly like Hitsugaya-kun. “Maybe I should take a picture,” he smirked at the thought.
“Maybe I should kill you before you have the chance.”
Urahara jumped in surprise, turning around to meet the real Hitsugaya staring coldly at him from the doorway. “Never could take a joke, could you?”
“That was no joke. It was a bona fide threat,” the boy huffed in reply, his gaze rotating toward the gigai. “If Matsumoto got her hands on a picture like that, my credibility with my division would be shot f-” He stopped, realizing exactly what he had said, before taking a deep breath and concluding. “For decades.”
The aged shinigami sighed, taking a look at the clock hanging on the wall. “Since I know you didn’t come for the gigai, why exactly did you decide to grace me with your presence at two in the morning?”
“Tatsuki refused to leave. Inoue only just dragged her home.” He was silent for a moment, an unexpected hint of hesitance in his evading eyes. “Matsumoto wants to learn bankai.”
Ah, so that was it. Urahara smirked. “And what do you think about that?”
“I’m no longer her commanding officer. What I think doesn’t matter,” Hitsugaya evaded.
“And yet she still calls you taichou, ne?” the be-hatted man noted. “You won’t be able to supervise her the entire time. And even when you can, you won’t be able to help her.”
“She can handle it.”
“I don’t know…. Even if she can handle it, it would be such tedious work for me….”
“I could always call Kuchiki here to kick you around until you agree,” the boy shinigami added a threat of his own.
“The big, bad taichou’s gonna call on a little girl to help him?” Urahara mocked mischievously.
“She can wear high heels.”
“A fine argument! I’m convinced!” the salesman acquiesced without skipping a beat. “I will do what I can to help your lady friend achieve bankai on one condition.” Hitsugaya sent him a peeved glare in anticipation of what was to come. “When you catch wind of my next brilliant scheme, you have to follow through with it without a single word of complaint.”
He watched in amusement as the young ex-taichou mulled over that particular condition. No doubt he was measuring the pros and cons. It didn’t take him very long; there weren’t many pros. “Fine,” he finally sighed, “if that’s what it takes to satiate a hunger like yours.”
Urahara found this answer genuinely intriguing. “And what sort of hunger is that?”
It was a while before Hitsugaya replied, but when he did Urahara could hardly believe his own ears. “I suppose it’s the sort that refuses to cease until everyone else has had their fill.”
As the wide-eyed salesman watched the boy leave, he nearly didn’t notice the black cat that sneaked up behind him and wrapped itself around his ankle. “Surprised?” it asked, and Urahara swore, impossible as he knew it was, that it was grinning.
He chuckled. “Yes, my dear Yoruichi, I believe I was.”
“Heard those words before, haven’t you?” the Yoruichi cat purred knowingly.
Urahara exhaled, leaning back to stretch his spine. “More or less,” he replied simply. “Speaking of which, little Hitsugaya-kun has just agreed not to complain about my next dastardly plot. I need to get started right away before he forgets.”
“That awful, huh?”
“Well … maybe a teensy bit,” he held his thumb and pointer finger about an inch apart to illustrate, “but it’ll give me the answer I need to pull it all together. So, really, I’m doing him two favors. And, since I’m proving to be so generous, I think I had better use our pretty lady Rangiku-chan to start things off. Something tells me she’ll be very interested in this particular delivery.”
The quirky salesman held out an envelope with an address printed on it for Yoruichi to read. The cat cocked its head, raising a whiskered brow. “Couldn’t you just call him on the phone?”
“Yoruichi-love, I’m disappointed in you,” he mock scolded as he stored the envelope in his robes. “I mean, honestly, where’s the fun in that?”
~*~
Matsumoto did nothing different than what she had done every morning since she had arrived in Karakura. She reminded a grumpy Hitsugaya that, yes, his going to school was pointless, but, yes, he had to go anyway. She giggled as he brushed his teeth and as he slammed the door in her face before she could giggle as he took his shower. She cooked up some grand recipe she had gotten from Orihime, and he took one look at it before making himself some toast instead. She then ate the concoction herself since no one else was brave enough. She even waved a cheery goodbye as he trudged out the door after Renji, muttering curses upon her wretched soul. But this morning, something was off; she wasn’t the only one who had done all of these things.
She continued grinning and waving until Hitsugaya gave her one last glare before turning the corner, but as soon as he was gone, so was her smile. Slowly, she turned to face a still grinning and waving Urahara Kisuke. “Alright. What are you up to now?”
“So suspicious,” he whined airily, heading back inside the shop. “I’m hurt.”
Matsumoto was not a foot behind. “I’d be crazy if I wasn’t,” she huffed. “Now, out with it! I’m a very busy woman.”
“You certainly are. I have another job for you,” the be-hatted salesman smirked, holding out the envelope.
The buxom fukutaichou pouted, hands at her hips. She didn’t want to have to deal with some stupid delivery when she was going to be meeting with her taichou’s Vice Principal later. She had to get ready, get into the character. But Urahara was doing all of this for her taichou, right? He was trying to help in his own, disturbing, Urahara way, and Matsumoto Rangiku would do virtually anything to help her taichou.
She pursed her lips and grabbed the envelope.
And she forgot all about the parent-teacher conference.
“This … This is … impossible,” she managed, her mouth suddenly unbearably dry. The name on the envelope… The address… She looked directly into Urahara’s eyes, searching for any sign that this was a joke. It had to be. “It’s impossible.”
“Nothing’s impossible, Rangiku-chan.”
Matsumoto couldn’t take her eyes off the sloppy handwriting. “I tried to tell myself that it was all just a coincidence. It’s not like no two people in the world could have the same surname, right? Right? I spent years trying to convince myself to give up hope. I moved on; I forced myself to get up and act like nothing had ever happened! You can’t tell me that all of that was for nothing. You can’t tell me that you’re being serious. You just can’t.” She was on the verge of tears. This wasn’t right. She knew how Urahara worked, and yet she still couldn’t believe it. This was just too far. “He’s dead. He died twenty years ago.”
“The details of what actually happened that day have been slightly exaggerated,” Urahara replied, all traces of humor gone. He wasn’t joking; he was really serious.
“He’s alive.”
“In a manner of speaking.”
Matsumoto Rangiku clutched the envelope tightly to her chest, a large grimace consuming her full, luscious lips. “Alive enough to have three kids, apparently.”
~*~
Aizen Sousuke was taking a rare moment for himself, away from the many arrancar that served no more purpose than to wait on him hand and foot. He sat at a large desk, pen in hand and writing what, for all intents and purposes, looked like a love letter. The very thought seemed to scream paradox, but Ichimaru Gin couldn’t keep himself from thinking it. Perhaps that was part of the gentle killer’s charm. But whatever it was, Gin greatly enjoyed tugging at its strings.
“I hear yer little bug got squished,” echoed his familiar Kansai-ben, finally motivating the stoic brunette to lift his head from the papers scattered in front of him.
The man smiled knowingly before returning to his writing. “Well, it was inevitable, was it not? After you put such an idea into its head.”
“Me?” Gin held his hand to his chest in mock surprise. “Whaddeva’ could ya mean?”
“Gin, you derive far too much pleasure in playing with my pawns. It’s what I’ve always admired about you.”
“I’m flattered.”
“You shouldn’t be,” entered a third, colder voice. “It’s disgraceful.”
“Ah, Kaname. I’m glad you were able to make it,” Aizen intervened, ignoring the apparent hostilities between his two closest subordinates. “How are the recent preparations faring?”
“We will be ready within the week, Aizen-sama,” Tousen Kaname bowed respectfully.
“Hn,” Aizen stood up, hand to his chin as if in deep thought. Ichimaru knew better. Whatever he was about to say, he had already planned it long ago. “We are ahead of schedule. Excellent. Then I would prefer we put a hold on our current activities in order to pursue more … personal interests.” He turned to look meaningfully into Ichimaru Gin’s squinting eyes before lifting his gaze to encompass both of the men in the room once more. “I will handle the preparatory work myself. The rest I will leave in your capable hands. Gin, Kaname.”
When he finished speaking, the two shinigami took it as their cue to leave. Silence reigned between them for a time as they walked down the main hallway, but it did not last long. Gin was quick to notice Tousen’s stiffness. “Ya don’ like my little game wit’ Hitsugaya-kun?”
Tousen’s grimace grew. “He is Aizen-sama’s enemy, and therefore, he is my enemy as well. His well-being does not concern me.”
“Ah,” Ichimaru smirked. “So it’s me ya don’ like.”
“I understand why Aizen-sama puts up with you, and I will stand by his decision as firmly as I would my own, but even if he can overlook your corrupt ways, I cannot. Your motives are even more selfish and deranged than your hideous expression.” It was hard to miss the disgust in his tone.
Ichimaru’s grin never faltered, though it seemed to hold something more within it now. Curiosity, perhaps. “But aren’ ya the same?”
“No.”
“A’right. Suit yerself. But, ya know, it makes everythin’ a lot more interestin’ if ya jus’ accept it.”
“There is nothing I need to accept,” the blind man nearly spat. “I am obviously more at peace with my decisions and my ideals than you are ever capable of becoming in your twisted madness.”
“Tha’s cold. If ya had left such a pretty lady behind wit’ a snot-nosed, mini taichou, ya’d feel a little off too. But all ya had to toss was that big, fox friend o’ yers, ne?”
Gin watched as Tousen Kaname’s unseeing eyes widened, and he nearly drew his zanpakutou before catching himself and leaving down a branch of the main hallway. And as he watched, his perpetual smirk began to flicker for just a moment before returning with full force.
After all, there was no use in bothering himself with the past. What was lost was lost; and what he had yet to lose, he would lose soon enough.
~*~
Matsumoto shuffled past the people gathered around the entrance and marched into the main room, eyes peeled for her target, but the only people she saw inside were three women huddled together whispering and a freckled, teenage receptionist who was staring intently at her boobs. “I’m up here,” she scolded, folding her arms across her chest. He hastily jerked his head upward, blushing madly and looking altogether quite embarrassed. She sighed. “I need to speak to the owner of this place. He is here, isn’t he?”
The boy nodded, still as red as a tomato. “He’s in 103, but I think he’s busy,” he stuttered, only to have the woman stomp away mid-sentence.”
“Oh, he’s not too busy for me. Trust me.”
Just as she was about a foot from the door labeled 103, it burst open, and a middle-aged man with dark hair wearing a standard-issue doctor’s coat stormed out yelling. “For the last time, you are not going to die from that stupid cut! Just let me get some antiseptic and-!”
He stopped in his tracks as soon as he saw the familiar maple golden waves that he had been trying to hard to avoid for the last two months.
Matsumoto looked him directly in the eye. “You’ve aged. I didn’t even recognize you when I saw you. I guess I can see it a little, now that I’m up close…,” she began shakily, all of her former bravado seeming to trickle down the drain.
“Rangiku…”
“It’s been a long time, Kurosaki-taichou.”
~*~
“She’s late.”
“Relax,” Abarai Renji sighed. Watching Hitsugaya-taichou so apprehensive had been fun at first, but after the sixth or seventh time he looked down at his watch and stated the obvious, it had become rather boring. “Ran’s always late.”
“I know,” the small boy grunted, shoving his hands into his pockets. “That’s the problem.”
“I’m heeeeere!” came a shrill, far-too-happy call from around the corner. Renji swore shorty’s shoulders slumped a good foot lower the moment the voice made itself known. He grinned. “Sorry I’m late, Taichou! It wasn’t my fault this time! It was all Urahara-jii! I barely had time to go back and take a shower!”
“Yo,” Renji greeted as Matsumoto Rangiku came into sight.
“Well then, shall we?” the woman smiled, exuding excitement from every pore of her body.
Hitsugaya-taichou, he noted, was the exact opposite. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”
Oh, yes. This was going to be very interesting.
The three shinigami entered the Vice Principal’s office to find it completely empty. A desk, a couple of chairs, some plaques, but not a single sign of any Vice Principals. Hitsugaya-taichou raised a single brow as Ran clapped her hands happily. “Ha! This means I’m earlier than your teacher!” she smirked.
“Oh! I’m sorry!” The three of them whirled around to meet none other than Suzumiya-sensei herself, holding a steaming cup of coffee. “You were rather late, so I thought it would be alright to get something to drink. I hope I didn’t keep you.”
Ran’s smirk faded instantly, and shorty couldn’t suppress a wry grin of his own. “No, no. Not at all!” the buxom fukutaichou hastily saved. “I’m the one who was late. I should be the one apologizing.”
“Well, as long as you didn’t wait long,” Suzumiya nodded. “Please, sit.” She motioned to the chairs set out in front of the desk as she maneuvered into her own. After a quick sip of the heated mug, she turned her attention back to her three guests. She held out a hand to Ran. “It’s nice to meet you, Miss Matsumoto. Your siblings have been quite interesting additions to our school.”
“I would expect nothing less,” Ran chuckled, shaking Suzumiya’s outstretched hand.
“If I may ask a question, though…” the tawny haired Vice Principal hesitated a moment before continuing, “Is there a reason all three of you have different surnames?”
“Oh, that. That’s nothing. Mother’s always been a bit eccentric. She’s been married at least five times, and each of us was fortunate enough to end up with a different father. She doesn’t like her surname at all, thinks it’s too boring, so we were all stuck with different ones. None of her later husbands were around long enough for her to legally change them anyway.”
Matsumoto said this so nonchalantly that even Renji was almost inclined to believe her. Needless to say, shorty was pretty darn surprised. “Oh, I see. I’m sorry if I offended…”
“Nah,” Ran waved it aside. “We’re used to it. Not like it’s something new or anything. Actually, I don’t think the apple fell too far from the tree, ne?” She laughed, and Suzumiya nodded. “So, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?”
“Ah, yes. Well, both Toushirou and Renji have been wonderful students, although Renji is prone to losing his temper every now and then. Their grades are decent, and they seem to be getting along well with quite a few of Oda-sensei’s students, so you should have no worries when it comes to that. However…”
“Yes?” Ran pressed, obviously very interested in what was to come. Renji wasn’t quite as thrilled. Having some old lady, who was actually quite a few decades younger than him, talk to someone else about him as if he wasn’t even there was a little annoying.
“However, there are some things that have a few of their teachers worried,” the Vice Principal sighed. “Oda-sensei seems to think they’re perfectly fine, boys will be boys, and various other phrases assuring me that there’s nothing to worry about. But Kawano-sensei and Miyake-sensei think otherwise. It seems that often times, the two of them will space out or fall asleep for an entire class period multiple times each day. And Miyake-sensei is concerned that Renji may have some serious problems with authority. Sometimes he disobeys a teacher’s request for the sole purpose of disobedience itself. Then there’s Toushirou…”
“Wait, wait a second,” Ran interrupted, fighting hard not to laugh. “Did you say they’ll space out all the time?” Suzumiya-sensei nodded, and Ran could no longer hold back the laughter. Renji grunted, and Hitsugaya-taichou let out an unaffected “che”. So what if they skipped out on a class or two every once in a while? Algebra was boring.
“Sorry,” she muttered as she calmed down. “A bit of an inside joke. As for Renji, this Oda-sensei seems to have her head in the right spot. He’s always been that way. Just let him have his fun while he still can.”
“I see,” the Vice Principal replied, even though she obviously didn’t. “Though, perhaps, you should look into a good therapist? If your family history is as you say it is, then…”
“We’ll look into it,” Ran interrupted yet again, attempting to save Renji from any further discussion concerning that particular topic. “You were going to say something about Taichou?”
“What? Taichou?” Suzumiya-sensei questioned.
“Oh! That’s our nickname for Toushirou!” the well-endowed fukutaichou hastily covered up her slip. Hitsugaya-taichou frowned at what he knew was about to happen, and right on cue, Rangiku’s arms pulled him deep into her breasts. “‘Cause he’s my little taichou!”
What happened next was the very last thing Renji had been expecting. As soon as the words were out of Ran’s mouth, shorty’s eyes widened like soccer balls and he pushed her forcefully to the floor in a mad attempt free himself from her grip. She stared up at him, as shocked as Renji was, but what was even more disconcerting was the expression on Hitsugaya’s face. He looked for all the world like a cornered animal staring death in the face.
“Don’t … Don’t call me that. Don’t ever call me that again.”
With that, he bolted out the door. Renji made to go after him, but Ran held him back by the wrist. She stood up slowly, dusting off her dress. “Don’t worry. He’ll be fine,” she sighed in response to Renji’s confused stare.
She then turned to face Suzumiya, who was quite speechless at the moment, and smiled. “You were saying something about a therapist?”
~*~
Hitsugaya forced himself to breathe evenly as he leaned back against a rise on the roof of the building. “Dammit!” he croaked, slamming his head back into the wall. It didn’t help. In fact, it only served to make his head ache worse. “Dammit!”
“Hn. Figures I’d find a shinigami hiding out up here.”
The ex-taichou tensed, turning to face the owner of the familiar voice. “What are you doing here?” he growled as Kurosaki Isshin stepped forward.
The older man pouted rather childishly. “How cruel. I come just to see you, and you talk to me like I’m a hollow!”
“Did Urahara send you then?”
“I guess you could say that,” Kurosaki shrugged. “But I did volunteer.”
“Tell him I’m not in the mood for his stupid games,” Hitsugaya replied darkly, turning away to look out at the city surrounding them.
“Nonsense!” the man countered gleefully, grabbing hold of Hitsugaya’s arm and dragging him bodily down the stairway. “Urahara tells me that you’re not allowed to complain about this one. You’re not weaseling out today! You have no idea what I’ve been through today just so I can see this!”
Hitsugaya considered yelling “Kidnapper!” but decided against it, allowing Kurosaki to bulldoze their way down the stairs and out the school grounds without struggling.
Anything was better than returning to that office.
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.
“Men are not prisoners of fate, but only prisoners of their own minds.”
-Franklin D. Roosevelt
~*~
Chapter Fourteen
Put Up Your Good Hand
~*~
Urahara Kisuke rubbed the sleep from his eyes, setting the newly repaired gigai down on the closest couch. It was half-undressed, limp, and about to fall over onto the floor. He swore he even saw drool trickling from its lips. The absolute best part of it all: it looked exactly like Hitsugaya-kun. “Maybe I should take a picture,” he smirked at the thought.
“Maybe I should kill you before you have the chance.”
Urahara jumped in surprise, turning around to meet the real Hitsugaya staring coldly at him from the doorway. “Never could take a joke, could you?”
“That was no joke. It was a bona fide threat,” the boy huffed in reply, his gaze rotating toward the gigai. “If Matsumoto got her hands on a picture like that, my credibility with my division would be shot f-” He stopped, realizing exactly what he had said, before taking a deep breath and concluding. “For decades.”
The aged shinigami sighed, taking a look at the clock hanging on the wall. “Since I know you didn’t come for the gigai, why exactly did you decide to grace me with your presence at two in the morning?”
“Tatsuki refused to leave. Inoue only just dragged her home.” He was silent for a moment, an unexpected hint of hesitance in his evading eyes. “Matsumoto wants to learn bankai.”
Ah, so that was it. Urahara smirked. “And what do you think about that?”
“I’m no longer her commanding officer. What I think doesn’t matter,” Hitsugaya evaded.
“And yet she still calls you taichou, ne?” the be-hatted man noted. “You won’t be able to supervise her the entire time. And even when you can, you won’t be able to help her.”
“She can handle it.”
“I don’t know…. Even if she can handle it, it would be such tedious work for me….”
“I could always call Kuchiki here to kick you around until you agree,” the boy shinigami added a threat of his own.
“The big, bad taichou’s gonna call on a little girl to help him?” Urahara mocked mischievously.
“She can wear high heels.”
“A fine argument! I’m convinced!” the salesman acquiesced without skipping a beat. “I will do what I can to help your lady friend achieve bankai on one condition.” Hitsugaya sent him a peeved glare in anticipation of what was to come. “When you catch wind of my next brilliant scheme, you have to follow through with it without a single word of complaint.”
He watched in amusement as the young ex-taichou mulled over that particular condition. No doubt he was measuring the pros and cons. It didn’t take him very long; there weren’t many pros. “Fine,” he finally sighed, “if that’s what it takes to satiate a hunger like yours.”
Urahara found this answer genuinely intriguing. “And what sort of hunger is that?”
It was a while before Hitsugaya replied, but when he did Urahara could hardly believe his own ears. “I suppose it’s the sort that refuses to cease until everyone else has had their fill.”
As the wide-eyed salesman watched the boy leave, he nearly didn’t notice the black cat that sneaked up behind him and wrapped itself around his ankle. “Surprised?” it asked, and Urahara swore, impossible as he knew it was, that it was grinning.
He chuckled. “Yes, my dear Yoruichi, I believe I was.”
“Heard those words before, haven’t you?” the Yoruichi cat purred knowingly.
Urahara exhaled, leaning back to stretch his spine. “More or less,” he replied simply. “Speaking of which, little Hitsugaya-kun has just agreed not to complain about my next dastardly plot. I need to get started right away before he forgets.”
“That awful, huh?”
“Well … maybe a teensy bit,” he held his thumb and pointer finger about an inch apart to illustrate, “but it’ll give me the answer I need to pull it all together. So, really, I’m doing him two favors. And, since I’m proving to be so generous, I think I had better use our pretty lady Rangiku-chan to start things off. Something tells me she’ll be very interested in this particular delivery.”
The quirky salesman held out an envelope with an address printed on it for Yoruichi to read. The cat cocked its head, raising a whiskered brow. “Couldn’t you just call him on the phone?”
“Yoruichi-love, I’m disappointed in you,” he mock scolded as he stored the envelope in his robes. “I mean, honestly, where’s the fun in that?”
Matsumoto did nothing different than what she had done every morning since she had arrived in Karakura. She reminded a grumpy Hitsugaya that, yes, his going to school was pointless, but, yes, he had to go anyway. She giggled as he brushed his teeth and as he slammed the door in her face before she could giggle as he took his shower. She cooked up some grand recipe she had gotten from Orihime, and he took one look at it before making himself some toast instead. She then ate the concoction herself since no one else was brave enough. She even waved a cheery goodbye as he trudged out the door after Renji, muttering curses upon her wretched soul. But this morning, something was off; she wasn’t the only one who had done all of these things.
She continued grinning and waving until Hitsugaya gave her one last glare before turning the corner, but as soon as he was gone, so was her smile. Slowly, she turned to face a still grinning and waving Urahara Kisuke. “Alright. What are you up to now?”
“So suspicious,” he whined airily, heading back inside the shop. “I’m hurt.”
Matsumoto was not a foot behind. “I’d be crazy if I wasn’t,” she huffed. “Now, out with it! I’m a very busy woman.”
“You certainly are. I have another job for you,” the be-hatted salesman smirked, holding out the envelope.
The buxom fukutaichou pouted, hands at her hips. She didn’t want to have to deal with some stupid delivery when she was going to be meeting with her taichou’s Vice Principal later. She had to get ready, get into the character. But Urahara was doing all of this for her taichou, right? He was trying to help in his own, disturbing, Urahara way, and Matsumoto Rangiku would do virtually anything to help her taichou.
She pursed her lips and grabbed the envelope.
And she forgot all about the parent-teacher conference.
“This … This is … impossible,” she managed, her mouth suddenly unbearably dry. The name on the envelope… The address… She looked directly into Urahara’s eyes, searching for any sign that this was a joke. It had to be. “It’s impossible.”
“Nothing’s impossible, Rangiku-chan.”
Matsumoto couldn’t take her eyes off the sloppy handwriting. “I tried to tell myself that it was all just a coincidence. It’s not like no two people in the world could have the same surname, right? Right? I spent years trying to convince myself to give up hope. I moved on; I forced myself to get up and act like nothing had ever happened! You can’t tell me that all of that was for nothing. You can’t tell me that you’re being serious. You just can’t.” She was on the verge of tears. This wasn’t right. She knew how Urahara worked, and yet she still couldn’t believe it. This was just too far. “He’s dead. He died twenty years ago.”
“The details of what actually happened that day have been slightly exaggerated,” Urahara replied, all traces of humor gone. He wasn’t joking; he was really serious.
“He’s alive.”
“In a manner of speaking.”
Matsumoto Rangiku clutched the envelope tightly to her chest, a large grimace consuming her full, luscious lips. “Alive enough to have three kids, apparently.”
Aizen Sousuke was taking a rare moment for himself, away from the many arrancar that served no more purpose than to wait on him hand and foot. He sat at a large desk, pen in hand and writing what, for all intents and purposes, looked like a love letter. The very thought seemed to scream paradox, but Ichimaru Gin couldn’t keep himself from thinking it. Perhaps that was part of the gentle killer’s charm. But whatever it was, Gin greatly enjoyed tugging at its strings.
“I hear yer little bug got squished,” echoed his familiar Kansai-ben, finally motivating the stoic brunette to lift his head from the papers scattered in front of him.
The man smiled knowingly before returning to his writing. “Well, it was inevitable, was it not? After you put such an idea into its head.”
“Me?” Gin held his hand to his chest in mock surprise. “Whaddeva’ could ya mean?”
“Gin, you derive far too much pleasure in playing with my pawns. It’s what I’ve always admired about you.”
“I’m flattered.”
“You shouldn’t be,” entered a third, colder voice. “It’s disgraceful.”
“Ah, Kaname. I’m glad you were able to make it,” Aizen intervened, ignoring the apparent hostilities between his two closest subordinates. “How are the recent preparations faring?”
“We will be ready within the week, Aizen-sama,” Tousen Kaname bowed respectfully.
“Hn,” Aizen stood up, hand to his chin as if in deep thought. Ichimaru knew better. Whatever he was about to say, he had already planned it long ago. “We are ahead of schedule. Excellent. Then I would prefer we put a hold on our current activities in order to pursue more … personal interests.” He turned to look meaningfully into Ichimaru Gin’s squinting eyes before lifting his gaze to encompass both of the men in the room once more. “I will handle the preparatory work myself. The rest I will leave in your capable hands. Gin, Kaname.”
When he finished speaking, the two shinigami took it as their cue to leave. Silence reigned between them for a time as they walked down the main hallway, but it did not last long. Gin was quick to notice Tousen’s stiffness. “Ya don’ like my little game wit’ Hitsugaya-kun?”
Tousen’s grimace grew. “He is Aizen-sama’s enemy, and therefore, he is my enemy as well. His well-being does not concern me.”
“Ah,” Ichimaru smirked. “So it’s me ya don’ like.”
“I understand why Aizen-sama puts up with you, and I will stand by his decision as firmly as I would my own, but even if he can overlook your corrupt ways, I cannot. Your motives are even more selfish and deranged than your hideous expression.” It was hard to miss the disgust in his tone.
Ichimaru’s grin never faltered, though it seemed to hold something more within it now. Curiosity, perhaps. “But aren’ ya the same?”
“No.”
“A’right. Suit yerself. But, ya know, it makes everythin’ a lot more interestin’ if ya jus’ accept it.”
“There is nothing I need to accept,” the blind man nearly spat. “I am obviously more at peace with my decisions and my ideals than you are ever capable of becoming in your twisted madness.”
“Tha’s cold. If ya had left such a pretty lady behind wit’ a snot-nosed, mini taichou, ya’d feel a little off too. But all ya had to toss was that big, fox friend o’ yers, ne?”
Gin watched as Tousen Kaname’s unseeing eyes widened, and he nearly drew his zanpakutou before catching himself and leaving down a branch of the main hallway. And as he watched, his perpetual smirk began to flicker for just a moment before returning with full force.
After all, there was no use in bothering himself with the past. What was lost was lost; and what he had yet to lose, he would lose soon enough.
Matsumoto shuffled past the people gathered around the entrance and marched into the main room, eyes peeled for her target, but the only people she saw inside were three women huddled together whispering and a freckled, teenage receptionist who was staring intently at her boobs. “I’m up here,” she scolded, folding her arms across her chest. He hastily jerked his head upward, blushing madly and looking altogether quite embarrassed. She sighed. “I need to speak to the owner of this place. He is here, isn’t he?”
The boy nodded, still as red as a tomato. “He’s in 103, but I think he’s busy,” he stuttered, only to have the woman stomp away mid-sentence.”
“Oh, he’s not too busy for me. Trust me.”
Just as she was about a foot from the door labeled 103, it burst open, and a middle-aged man with dark hair wearing a standard-issue doctor’s coat stormed out yelling. “For the last time, you are not going to die from that stupid cut! Just let me get some antiseptic and-!”
He stopped in his tracks as soon as he saw the familiar maple golden waves that he had been trying to hard to avoid for the last two months.
Matsumoto looked him directly in the eye. “You’ve aged. I didn’t even recognize you when I saw you. I guess I can see it a little, now that I’m up close…,” she began shakily, all of her former bravado seeming to trickle down the drain.
“Rangiku…”
“It’s been a long time, Kurosaki-taichou.”
“She’s late.”
“Relax,” Abarai Renji sighed. Watching Hitsugaya-taichou so apprehensive had been fun at first, but after the sixth or seventh time he looked down at his watch and stated the obvious, it had become rather boring. “Ran’s always late.”
“I know,” the small boy grunted, shoving his hands into his pockets. “That’s the problem.”
“I’m heeeeere!” came a shrill, far-too-happy call from around the corner. Renji swore shorty’s shoulders slumped a good foot lower the moment the voice made itself known. He grinned. “Sorry I’m late, Taichou! It wasn’t my fault this time! It was all Urahara-jii! I barely had time to go back and take a shower!”
“Yo,” Renji greeted as Matsumoto Rangiku came into sight.
“Well then, shall we?” the woman smiled, exuding excitement from every pore of her body.
Hitsugaya-taichou, he noted, was the exact opposite. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”
Oh, yes. This was going to be very interesting.
The three shinigami entered the Vice Principal’s office to find it completely empty. A desk, a couple of chairs, some plaques, but not a single sign of any Vice Principals. Hitsugaya-taichou raised a single brow as Ran clapped her hands happily. “Ha! This means I’m earlier than your teacher!” she smirked.
“Oh! I’m sorry!” The three of them whirled around to meet none other than Suzumiya-sensei herself, holding a steaming cup of coffee. “You were rather late, so I thought it would be alright to get something to drink. I hope I didn’t keep you.”
Ran’s smirk faded instantly, and shorty couldn’t suppress a wry grin of his own. “No, no. Not at all!” the buxom fukutaichou hastily saved. “I’m the one who was late. I should be the one apologizing.”
“Well, as long as you didn’t wait long,” Suzumiya nodded. “Please, sit.” She motioned to the chairs set out in front of the desk as she maneuvered into her own. After a quick sip of the heated mug, she turned her attention back to her three guests. She held out a hand to Ran. “It’s nice to meet you, Miss Matsumoto. Your siblings have been quite interesting additions to our school.”
“I would expect nothing less,” Ran chuckled, shaking Suzumiya’s outstretched hand.
“If I may ask a question, though…” the tawny haired Vice Principal hesitated a moment before continuing, “Is there a reason all three of you have different surnames?”
“Oh, that. That’s nothing. Mother’s always been a bit eccentric. She’s been married at least five times, and each of us was fortunate enough to end up with a different father. She doesn’t like her surname at all, thinks it’s too boring, so we were all stuck with different ones. None of her later husbands were around long enough for her to legally change them anyway.”
Matsumoto said this so nonchalantly that even Renji was almost inclined to believe her. Needless to say, shorty was pretty darn surprised. “Oh, I see. I’m sorry if I offended…”
“Nah,” Ran waved it aside. “We’re used to it. Not like it’s something new or anything. Actually, I don’t think the apple fell too far from the tree, ne?” She laughed, and Suzumiya nodded. “So, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?”
“Ah, yes. Well, both Toushirou and Renji have been wonderful students, although Renji is prone to losing his temper every now and then. Their grades are decent, and they seem to be getting along well with quite a few of Oda-sensei’s students, so you should have no worries when it comes to that. However…”
“Yes?” Ran pressed, obviously very interested in what was to come. Renji wasn’t quite as thrilled. Having some old lady, who was actually quite a few decades younger than him, talk to someone else about him as if he wasn’t even there was a little annoying.
“However, there are some things that have a few of their teachers worried,” the Vice Principal sighed. “Oda-sensei seems to think they’re perfectly fine, boys will be boys, and various other phrases assuring me that there’s nothing to worry about. But Kawano-sensei and Miyake-sensei think otherwise. It seems that often times, the two of them will space out or fall asleep for an entire class period multiple times each day. And Miyake-sensei is concerned that Renji may have some serious problems with authority. Sometimes he disobeys a teacher’s request for the sole purpose of disobedience itself. Then there’s Toushirou…”
“Wait, wait a second,” Ran interrupted, fighting hard not to laugh. “Did you say they’ll space out all the time?” Suzumiya-sensei nodded, and Ran could no longer hold back the laughter. Renji grunted, and Hitsugaya-taichou let out an unaffected “che”. So what if they skipped out on a class or two every once in a while? Algebra was boring.
“Sorry,” she muttered as she calmed down. “A bit of an inside joke. As for Renji, this Oda-sensei seems to have her head in the right spot. He’s always been that way. Just let him have his fun while he still can.”
“I see,” the Vice Principal replied, even though she obviously didn’t. “Though, perhaps, you should look into a good therapist? If your family history is as you say it is, then…”
“We’ll look into it,” Ran interrupted yet again, attempting to save Renji from any further discussion concerning that particular topic. “You were going to say something about Taichou?”
“What? Taichou?” Suzumiya-sensei questioned.
“Oh! That’s our nickname for Toushirou!” the well-endowed fukutaichou hastily covered up her slip. Hitsugaya-taichou frowned at what he knew was about to happen, and right on cue, Rangiku’s arms pulled him deep into her breasts. “‘Cause he’s my little taichou!”
What happened next was the very last thing Renji had been expecting. As soon as the words were out of Ran’s mouth, shorty’s eyes widened like soccer balls and he pushed her forcefully to the floor in a mad attempt free himself from her grip. She stared up at him, as shocked as Renji was, but what was even more disconcerting was the expression on Hitsugaya’s face. He looked for all the world like a cornered animal staring death in the face.
“Don’t … Don’t call me that. Don’t ever call me that again.”
With that, he bolted out the door. Renji made to go after him, but Ran held him back by the wrist. She stood up slowly, dusting off her dress. “Don’t worry. He’ll be fine,” she sighed in response to Renji’s confused stare.
She then turned to face Suzumiya, who was quite speechless at the moment, and smiled. “You were saying something about a therapist?”
Hitsugaya forced himself to breathe evenly as he leaned back against a rise on the roof of the building. “Dammit!” he croaked, slamming his head back into the wall. It didn’t help. In fact, it only served to make his head ache worse. “Dammit!”
“Hn. Figures I’d find a shinigami hiding out up here.”
The ex-taichou tensed, turning to face the owner of the familiar voice. “What are you doing here?” he growled as Kurosaki Isshin stepped forward.
The older man pouted rather childishly. “How cruel. I come just to see you, and you talk to me like I’m a hollow!”
“Did Urahara send you then?”
“I guess you could say that,” Kurosaki shrugged. “But I did volunteer.”
“Tell him I’m not in the mood for his stupid games,” Hitsugaya replied darkly, turning away to look out at the city surrounding them.
“Nonsense!” the man countered gleefully, grabbing hold of Hitsugaya’s arm and dragging him bodily down the stairway. “Urahara tells me that you’re not allowed to complain about this one. You’re not weaseling out today! You have no idea what I’ve been through today just so I can see this!”
Hitsugaya considered yelling “Kidnapper!” but decided against it, allowing Kurosaki to bulldoze their way down the stairs and out the school grounds without struggling.
Anything was better than returning to that office.