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Fanfiction || Treading Icy Waters 23
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.
~*~
“At first cock-crow the ghosts must go
Back to their quiet graves below”
-Theodosia Garrison
~*~
Chapter Twenty-Three
Rebound Reject
~*~
The echoing sound of slow applause permeated the silence as Ichimaru Gin turned around and smirked at his audience. Aizen’s warm smile met him, and after one last resounding clap of his hands, the ruler of Hueco Mundo stepped out from the shadows.
“So?” Ichimaru prodded, already knowing the answer to his own question just from seeing that maleficent glint in his taichou’s eyes. “Did’ja see what ya wanted ta see?”
“It was indeed quite a sight, Gin. I especially enjoyed your role,” returned the cunning retort.
Ichimaru’s smile didn’t waver, but his tone grew eerily cold. “Oh, but Aizen, I wasn’ even part o’ the cast.”
“Don’t be trite with me. You were the cast,” Aizen Sousuke easily brushed him aside. “And you played your puppets well. While you enjoyed your time with the living, Kaname paid a visit to the dead. I’ve planted my seed in both realms. My war is ready to begin.”
“Is’sat so?” Gin eyed the powerful man whom he called his taichou, the man whom he fully expected to win, and he smirked.
“Yes, it is. Do you know what that means?”
“Yare, yare,” Ichimaru trailed off, making his way out the same way Aizen came in. “Do ya even hafta ask?”
But just before he was able to leave, Aizen made his move as he so often did. “Oh, and Gin,” he intoned sweetly, “Hitsugaya-kun’s last technique…”
“Ain’t got nothin’ ta do with that pretty dragon o’ his. He jus’ condensed all his reiatsu ‘til it exploded.”
“Imploded, Gin,” Aizen interrupted. “It did not explode; it imploded. The part that seemed like an explosion was nothing but a shock wave.”
“Still went ‘boom,’” the silver haired fox chuckled wryly.
“I must admit, it’s quite a feat; for him to accomplish something like that…”
“Well, he doesn’ have as much reiatsu as the other taichou, ne? Not as much ta condense,” Ichimaru replied, knowing exactly where this was going. He could try to change the topic, but it would be a useless effort, so he just pushed it right along, feigning ignorance and saving himself the effort.
“It has nothing to do with the amount of reiatsu, Gin. It has everything to do with the control he has over it, even in this state in which he should not be able to have that control.” Aizen’s smile grew decidedly more malignant. “If he is able to take a large amount of reiatsu and condense it into nothing, I wonder if he can also take no reiatsu and expand it into a large amount, hm…?”
Aizen didn’t wait for an answer. He already knew that Gin had left the room.
~*~
“Aizen’s done playing around. That game is over and done with.”
Urahara Kisuke was sitting at his kitchen table, looking at his guest with a seriousness and finality that he did not often show. He removed the hat from his head, frowning at the rim for a moment before he was interrupted.
“But the kid…” Isshin began, just as serious.
“Hitsugaya is Ichimaru’s game, Isshin. He was never Aizen’s. I was Aizen’s game.”
“I thought you said you just happened to be in the way,” the other man persisted.
Urahara offered a none-too-pleasant smile. “No one gets in Aizen’s way unless he wants them to.”
“And Aizen’s game…?”
“I’ve done it again. Every time I drop everything. It’s how he controls me, how he controlled Hitsugaya. Because we always do the same thing. Perhaps this time I should do something different…. After all, a toy should do its best to remain entertaining.”
“No. You will do the same. You will always do the same.” Both Kisuke and Isshin turned to the apron-toting man standing in the corner of the room. “And that is why we will always aid you.”
“Tessai…” A snort as Kisuke promptly replaced the hat atop his head. “You would help me stall a shinigami taichou or two just to give a brat a few extra hours to regain his reiatsu before his head explodes?”
“Oh, Kisuke. You ever thought differently?” Isshin chuckled. “That ‘brat’ of yours protected my daughter. I’d gladly hold off the entire Gotei 13 if that was what it would take.”
Tessai nodded.
And Kisuke laughed. “I’m surrounded by enablers!”
“You haven’t changed at all. Still blaming everyone else, huh?” Isshin taunted playfully.
“If men are creatures of habit, then I suppose shinigami are creatures of obsession.”
“Then I take it your appetite hasn’t changed either.”
Urahara paused for just a second, his body stilled.
“Fine,” Hitsugaya 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.”
And suddenly he couldn’t hold back a challenging smile. “I’m famished.”
~*~
Rangiku hadn’t left the room since they’d brought her taichou into it. Why did this have to happen so damn much anyway? After almost every fight, once his bankai was done for, so was he. It was like clockwork. And, like clockwork, here she was, ranting about it.
“You just never know when to quit, do you?” she huffed, taking the chance to scold him while he was unconscious and couldn’t nag her for it. “You always go over your limit every damn time, and you never think of the consequences until you’re a bloody heap all over the ground! But by now I’m sure you’re plenty used to it, so don’t you dare try to use this as an excuse not to come back to the Tenth. I’ve threatened to be the fukutaichou from hell before, and I can do it again. Just you watch, I’ll-”
The frustrated woman halted midsentence when she caught a look at her taichou. He was still lying in the same position, still covered by those blankets, eyes still closed … but he was smirking. Smirking.
“Something funny?”
“Didn’t want to interrupt,” he replied without skipping a beat.
His voice was hoarse, but it was there. What was more surprising was what wasn’t there. There was no frustration, no contempt, no criticism, not even any sarcasm. It was … almost as if he’d intended to be funny. But that was just ridiculous! …Right?
“Once a brat, always a brat, ne Taichou?” she chided, plopping down on the side of the bed. When the mattress jumped just a fraction, and Hitsugaya’s brow twitched at the word “brat,” she felt she’d been rightfully avenged. “You’re … okay?”
“Not really.”
“Kisuke wouldn’t let Inoue anywhere near you, so we dressed your wounds as well as we could,” the busty woman explained, brass brows furrowed as her eyes scanned her taichou and his reaction.
He only sighed. “About that…”
“So now you’re going to tell me everything? Now that I can’t do anything to help? Now it’s safe for me to know?”
“…I’m sorry.”
“That’s not good enough!”
She watched as those half-lidded eyes widened in surprise. He rarely ever apologized for anything important. To be told it wasn’t enough must have been a shocker, but she wasn’t done yet.
“From the very beginning, you’ve done nothing but hide the most important information from me! I’m not going to just forgive you for that, no matter what reasons you had. First you have to promise me that you’ll never keep a secret from me ever again.”
“Matsumoto…” he began in a scolding tone, but she wasn’t going to hear it.
“Never again.”
“That’s-!” And then he stopped, looking up at her in either recognition or confusion; she couldn’t tell which. “You already know.”
“I beat it out of Kisuke after my little chat with Ichimaru.”
He must have caught that she didn’t call him Gin because instead of trying to overexert himself and go after the traitorous bastard, he only slumped back down into the bed. “What did he do?”
“Nothing much,” she shrugged. If Taichou didn’t remember the state she’d been in when she caught up to him, she wasn’t going to remind him. “He just … let me be the one to walk away this time.”
Silence. Then: “Fine. No more secrets.”
“Yay! Hugs!”
And before her superior officer could react, she’d enveloped him in cleavage. The struggling was instantaneous, muffled curses about his being injured only giving her reason to hold tighter. He was still there; her Taichou was still there. Even if she couldn’t feel his reiatsu, he was still there.
“M-MATSUMOTO! I CAN’T BREATHE!”
Finally, she released him, still laughing her head off at her victory. But the shouting didn’t go unnoticed, and only moments later, the door to the room opened, revealing a widely grinning Kurosaki Isshin.
“Oh! He’s awake!” the elder Kurosaki chimed just as cheerfully as Matsumoto. “This calls for a celebration!”
“With ice cream sundaes!” the excited fukutaichou added.
“And amazing scenery!”
“I know just the place! You just have to eat sundaes at the beach!”
“I’ll get the kids and the car!”
“I’ll get Renji and the towels!”
And as the two bustled out the door, still chattering away at the top of their lungs, Hitsugaya was left to stare blankly at the now empty room.
“…What just happened?”
Twenty minutes later, two cars full of several high school students, a few shinigami, two arguing children, and a burly man in a green wetsuit and apron took off for the beach, kidnapping an injured former Tenth Division taichou along for the ride.
~*~
When Kuchiki Byakuya and Zaraki Kenpachi stepped through the senkaimon into the sky above Karakura, they were more than a little surprised by the one who had come to greet them.
“Long time no see, Byakuya, Kenpachi,” Isshin, clothed in his shihakushou and once more out of gigai, nodded.
“You would end up here, wouldn’t you?” the stoic Sixth Division taichou replied, contempt replacing shock as soon as he was able to cloak his emotions again. “The substitute shinigami…”
“…Is my son.”
“And Hitsugaya Toushirou…?”
“Do you feel his reiatsu anywhere?” Isshin picked up with an innocent smile.
“That means nothing.”
Their greeter sighed, scratching the back of his neck with a sheepish shrug. Byakuya was as focused as ever, and Kenpachi just looked bored. He was probably disappointed that Isshin was displaying no intent to fight. “If you insist, why don’t we discuss the situation at Kisuke’s, ne? He’s fixing tea as we speak.”
~*~
It wasn’t hard to figure out their motives.
Hitsugaya was still wounded. His shoulder and back hurt like hell, and he was exhausted. They must have known that much, and yet the moment he awoke, they had carted him off, injuries and all, to the beach of all places.
They wanted him away from Karakura. There was no way in any of the worlds that Seireitei hadn’t felt his reiatsu burst back to life. The larger the group, the less chance anyone had of identifying any particular shinigami reiatsu signature. Urahara Kisuke had even sent those brats and Tessai along in case of a worst case scenario.
In short, they were stalling for him. They were protecting him.
A few days ago, he would have felt insulted at the idea. Now he wasn’t sure what to think. So he just watched the waves from his perch upon a cluster of rocks, letting his legs hang limply over the edge.
He didn’t know what day it was. Somewhere along the way, he’d forgotten. From the emptiness of the beach, he assumed it was still a weekday, but none of the people who had dragged him along seemed to care, intermingling with each other and the waves and taking a small moment to enjoy a small victory. It took him a few minutes to realize Matsumoto wasn’t among them. But before he could debate whether he should look for her, he felt her coming up behind him, an ice cream sundae in each hand.
“Taichou!” she smiled as she sat down beside him. “This one’s for you, and this one’s for me. Mizuiro paid for them both! Can you believe it?”
A single, white brow rose as he eyed his fukutaichou up and down, and without a word he accepted the sundae. Yes, he could believe it.
“You agreed to no more secrets. So I’ve got a few questions, okay?”
He sighed but gestured for her to continue with his spoon.
“Your reiatsu. It feeds on your reiatsu, right? So as long as you don’t have any, you’re safe. But-”
“But I should be dead?” he finished for her. “It’s not that my reiatsu’s vanished, Matsumoto. I just … managed to control it, in a way.”
“And…? There’s always an ‘and’ or a ‘but’ with you.”
Hitsugaya snorted through a small bite of ice cream. “It does feed off of reiatsu but not just my own. And when I condensed my reiatsu, I condensed it into two separate segments. I only set off one of them.” He could see realization creeping up on Matsumoto’s features and quickly continued. “I can only hold it in that state for so long before I’ll be forced to gradually expand it once more; the result won’t be the same as with Buitre so long as I let the reiatsu expand piece by piece. But-”
“Here it comes,” Matsumoto half chuckled, still looking a bit apprehensive but obviously trying to hide it. “The ‘but.’”
He pretended not to hear her. “But as soon as I expand enough of it, the dormant effects will likely take hold all at once.”
“In other words, you’re fine for as long as you can keep your own reiatsu at bay. How many hours?”
She was asking in hours. Not days, not weeks, but hours. He grimaced. She knew exactly what he was talking about. “Five, at the most.”
“Then what?”
“I don’t know,” he sighed. “Ichimaru seemed adamant that at the end, we would confront each other, but I don’t know whether I can trust him or not. Or even if he simply changed his mind.”
Matsumoto was quiet for all of two minutes before she suddenly stood up. Hitsugaya only had time to give her a quizzical look, and then he was being dragged by the wrist across the rock face. It was easy enough to balance himself, but the ice cream sundae was teetering precariously in his hand with every hop-step they took until they were down on the sand once more, on the opposite side of the rock face from the others.
“Matsumoto!”
But she refused to stop, pulling him across the sand and into the tide until the waves reached his knees. Finally she let go of his wrist and shoved him backward, sundae and all, into an oncoming wave.
Wide-eyed, soaking wet, sitting next to an empty sundae bowl, and confused as never before, the former Tenth Division taichou could only stare at his fukutaichou as if his entire world had just turned purple. And then, of all things, Matsumoto laughed. She laughed her heart out, just standing there in the tide while another wave washed over him.
“Oh, Taichou! If only you could see your face! You look like a drowned puppy!”
“Wh-What the hell was that for?!” he sputtered, salt water spraying from his lips. “Matsumoto, if you-!”
She reached out her hand.
Hitsugaya quieted, staring suspiciously at it for a moment before reaching up to grasp it. The busty woman pulled him back up, brushing some of the sand from his back and rear end. She was careful around his wounds, likely checking to make sure her stupidity hadn’t worsened them.
“No matter what happens,” she whispered firmly from next to his ear, “just remember that I’ll always be waiting right here to pull you back up, okay? Always.”
Well, that was…
He pulled away from her, doing his best to get the rest of the clinging sand off of his wet limbs himself. “Of course. Anything less would be unacceptable,” he huffed. “There has to be some reason you’re still my fukutaichou, after all. You certainly don’t earn your keep in the office.”
“But Taichou! That’s so mean! I’m just not the type of person who works well in cramped places! If you’d just let me take you to that spa again, I’m sure-!”
“Matsumoto,” he interrupted. “I was going to thank you. Don’t push your luck.”
She grinned. “You missed a spot, on the side of your left leg.” He could hear her giggling as he reached down to remove the sand there as well. “You’re welcome, Taichou! Anytime!”
And as she began to walk back over toward the rocks, he couldn’t suppress the smallest of twitches at the edge of his lips, curling his mouth into something that could only have been a genuine smile.
That was kind of … nice.
“Oh, Taichou! I almost forgot!” The smile vanished as she turned around again. It was difficult to see her as the same person she’d been a few seconds ago with a spoonful of ice cream crammed into her mouth. “I took you to the beach, so you owe me!”
“Matsumoto, you didn’t do a thing. You didn’t even pay for the sundaes.”
“You owe me!” she shouted again, firmly. “So when this is all over, you’re taking me somewhere in Seireitei! Got it!”
“On one condition,” he huffed as he caught up to her.
“Oh? And what’s that?”
“Shut your mouth when you’re eating.”
“But! Taichou!”
“Oi, Toushirou, Rangiku!”
The two shinigami whirled around to see Kurosaki Ichigo atop the rocks, waving his arm at them. “C’mon! You have to see this! Rukia’s trying to make a sand Chappy! It’s hilarious!” he cracked up. Just as he’d finished, a large projectile came out of nowhere, sailing through the air at high speeds before connecting with the side of Kurosaki’s skull and sending him right back down to the sand below.
Hitsugaya and Matsumoto exchanged glances.
“Was that a flying sea shell?”
“A conch. It was well aimed. Kuchiki’s been practicing.”
“Well, you’ve got about four and a half more hours. Wanna go see?”
Hitsugaya was quiet for a moment before answering. “Yeah. Let’s.”
And the two of them made their way over the rocks without a care in the world.
~*~
They parked a fair distance from Urahara Shoten upon their return, having to walk the rest of the way. A few of the others had been dropped off along the way, so the group now consisted of Kurosaki, Kuchiki, Abarai, Matsumoto, himself, and Tessai with the two brats. It still felt too large for the young shinigami and he stayed to the back during their quiet walk.
A single bead of sweat made its way down his now dry forehead and into his eye, and he frowned as he rubbed it, trying not to get any sand in the eye as well. It had been nearly six hours since he’d said he could hold his reiatsu in for five at most. He could tell by the way Matsumoto would keep moving closer and closer to him every ten minutes or so. But they were only about five minutes away from that crazy man’s storefront. He could manage that long at least. Just five more damned minutes.
It was two minutes later that Tessai stopped, and Kuchiki Rukia’s eyes widened in shock.
“Nii-sama! That’s Nii-sama’s reiatsu! And Zaraki-taichou! What are they doing here?!”
“Don’t look at me!” Kurosaki countered to the smaller woman, even as he immediately turned back to face Hitsugaya. “Oi, Toushirou…”
No answer.
Now everyone was staring at him, but he didn’t seem to notice. He was staring at something on his finger. Something red.
Matsumoto was frantic. “Someone get Urahara! Now! Run, dammit! Forget Kuchiki, just-!”
But before she could finish, the young shinigami let out a choking sound and hastily reached for his head. He looked for all the worlds like he was about to explode. Tessai sent Ururu and Jinta both running to Urahara Shoten, and just as he turned to see the sight himself, Hitsugaya did just that.
The reiatsu he’d still managed to keep condensed shot outward in a miniature shockwave, and several cuts appeared out of nowhere on his body, as if his blood was simply bursting outward with his reiatsu.
Every raw nerve felt as if it had been hit with a hammer.
He didn’t even feel himself collapse. He just knew he did.
Shouting became a cloud of whispers. The world became a misty, ethereal haze.
And then…
Nothing.
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.
“At first cock-crow the ghosts must go
Back to their quiet graves below”
-Theodosia Garrison
~*~
Chapter Twenty-Three
Rebound Reject
~*~
The echoing sound of slow applause permeated the silence as Ichimaru Gin turned around and smirked at his audience. Aizen’s warm smile met him, and after one last resounding clap of his hands, the ruler of Hueco Mundo stepped out from the shadows.
“So?” Ichimaru prodded, already knowing the answer to his own question just from seeing that maleficent glint in his taichou’s eyes. “Did’ja see what ya wanted ta see?”
“It was indeed quite a sight, Gin. I especially enjoyed your role,” returned the cunning retort.
Ichimaru’s smile didn’t waver, but his tone grew eerily cold. “Oh, but Aizen, I wasn’ even part o’ the cast.”
“Don’t be trite with me. You were the cast,” Aizen Sousuke easily brushed him aside. “And you played your puppets well. While you enjoyed your time with the living, Kaname paid a visit to the dead. I’ve planted my seed in both realms. My war is ready to begin.”
“Is’sat so?” Gin eyed the powerful man whom he called his taichou, the man whom he fully expected to win, and he smirked.
“Yes, it is. Do you know what that means?”
“Yare, yare,” Ichimaru trailed off, making his way out the same way Aizen came in. “Do ya even hafta ask?”
But just before he was able to leave, Aizen made his move as he so often did. “Oh, and Gin,” he intoned sweetly, “Hitsugaya-kun’s last technique…”
“Ain’t got nothin’ ta do with that pretty dragon o’ his. He jus’ condensed all his reiatsu ‘til it exploded.”
“Imploded, Gin,” Aizen interrupted. “It did not explode; it imploded. The part that seemed like an explosion was nothing but a shock wave.”
“Still went ‘boom,’” the silver haired fox chuckled wryly.
“I must admit, it’s quite a feat; for him to accomplish something like that…”
“Well, he doesn’ have as much reiatsu as the other taichou, ne? Not as much ta condense,” Ichimaru replied, knowing exactly where this was going. He could try to change the topic, but it would be a useless effort, so he just pushed it right along, feigning ignorance and saving himself the effort.
“It has nothing to do with the amount of reiatsu, Gin. It has everything to do with the control he has over it, even in this state in which he should not be able to have that control.” Aizen’s smile grew decidedly more malignant. “If he is able to take a large amount of reiatsu and condense it into nothing, I wonder if he can also take no reiatsu and expand it into a large amount, hm…?”
Aizen didn’t wait for an answer. He already knew that Gin had left the room.
“Aizen’s done playing around. That game is over and done with.”
Urahara Kisuke was sitting at his kitchen table, looking at his guest with a seriousness and finality that he did not often show. He removed the hat from his head, frowning at the rim for a moment before he was interrupted.
“But the kid…” Isshin began, just as serious.
“Hitsugaya is Ichimaru’s game, Isshin. He was never Aizen’s. I was Aizen’s game.”
“I thought you said you just happened to be in the way,” the other man persisted.
Urahara offered a none-too-pleasant smile. “No one gets in Aizen’s way unless he wants them to.”
“And Aizen’s game…?”
“I’ve done it again. Every time I drop everything. It’s how he controls me, how he controlled Hitsugaya. Because we always do the same thing. Perhaps this time I should do something different…. After all, a toy should do its best to remain entertaining.”
“No. You will do the same. You will always do the same.” Both Kisuke and Isshin turned to the apron-toting man standing in the corner of the room. “And that is why we will always aid you.”
“Tessai…” A snort as Kisuke promptly replaced the hat atop his head. “You would help me stall a shinigami taichou or two just to give a brat a few extra hours to regain his reiatsu before his head explodes?”
“Oh, Kisuke. You ever thought differently?” Isshin chuckled. “That ‘brat’ of yours protected my daughter. I’d gladly hold off the entire Gotei 13 if that was what it would take.”
Tessai nodded.
And Kisuke laughed. “I’m surrounded by enablers!”
“You haven’t changed at all. Still blaming everyone else, huh?” Isshin taunted playfully.
“If men are creatures of habit, then I suppose shinigami are creatures of obsession.”
“Then I take it your appetite hasn’t changed either.”
Urahara paused for just a second, his body stilled.
“Fine,” Hitsugaya 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.”
And suddenly he couldn’t hold back a challenging smile. “I’m famished.”
Rangiku hadn’t left the room since they’d brought her taichou into it. Why did this have to happen so damn much anyway? After almost every fight, once his bankai was done for, so was he. It was like clockwork. And, like clockwork, here she was, ranting about it.
“You just never know when to quit, do you?” she huffed, taking the chance to scold him while he was unconscious and couldn’t nag her for it. “You always go over your limit every damn time, and you never think of the consequences until you’re a bloody heap all over the ground! But by now I’m sure you’re plenty used to it, so don’t you dare try to use this as an excuse not to come back to the Tenth. I’ve threatened to be the fukutaichou from hell before, and I can do it again. Just you watch, I’ll-”
The frustrated woman halted midsentence when she caught a look at her taichou. He was still lying in the same position, still covered by those blankets, eyes still closed … but he was smirking. Smirking.
“Something funny?”
“Didn’t want to interrupt,” he replied without skipping a beat.
His voice was hoarse, but it was there. What was more surprising was what wasn’t there. There was no frustration, no contempt, no criticism, not even any sarcasm. It was … almost as if he’d intended to be funny. But that was just ridiculous! …Right?
“Once a brat, always a brat, ne Taichou?” she chided, plopping down on the side of the bed. When the mattress jumped just a fraction, and Hitsugaya’s brow twitched at the word “brat,” she felt she’d been rightfully avenged. “You’re … okay?”
“Not really.”
“Kisuke wouldn’t let Inoue anywhere near you, so we dressed your wounds as well as we could,” the busty woman explained, brass brows furrowed as her eyes scanned her taichou and his reaction.
He only sighed. “About that…”
“So now you’re going to tell me everything? Now that I can’t do anything to help? Now it’s safe for me to know?”
“…I’m sorry.”
“That’s not good enough!”
She watched as those half-lidded eyes widened in surprise. He rarely ever apologized for anything important. To be told it wasn’t enough must have been a shocker, but she wasn’t done yet.
“From the very beginning, you’ve done nothing but hide the most important information from me! I’m not going to just forgive you for that, no matter what reasons you had. First you have to promise me that you’ll never keep a secret from me ever again.”
“Matsumoto…” he began in a scolding tone, but she wasn’t going to hear it.
“Never again.”
“That’s-!” And then he stopped, looking up at her in either recognition or confusion; she couldn’t tell which. “You already know.”
“I beat it out of Kisuke after my little chat with Ichimaru.”
He must have caught that she didn’t call him Gin because instead of trying to overexert himself and go after the traitorous bastard, he only slumped back down into the bed. “What did he do?”
“Nothing much,” she shrugged. If Taichou didn’t remember the state she’d been in when she caught up to him, she wasn’t going to remind him. “He just … let me be the one to walk away this time.”
Silence. Then: “Fine. No more secrets.”
“Yay! Hugs!”
And before her superior officer could react, she’d enveloped him in cleavage. The struggling was instantaneous, muffled curses about his being injured only giving her reason to hold tighter. He was still there; her Taichou was still there. Even if she couldn’t feel his reiatsu, he was still there.
“M-MATSUMOTO! I CAN’T BREATHE!”
Finally, she released him, still laughing her head off at her victory. But the shouting didn’t go unnoticed, and only moments later, the door to the room opened, revealing a widely grinning Kurosaki Isshin.
“Oh! He’s awake!” the elder Kurosaki chimed just as cheerfully as Matsumoto. “This calls for a celebration!”
“With ice cream sundaes!” the excited fukutaichou added.
“And amazing scenery!”
“I know just the place! You just have to eat sundaes at the beach!”
“I’ll get the kids and the car!”
“I’ll get Renji and the towels!”
And as the two bustled out the door, still chattering away at the top of their lungs, Hitsugaya was left to stare blankly at the now empty room.
“…What just happened?”
Twenty minutes later, two cars full of several high school students, a few shinigami, two arguing children, and a burly man in a green wetsuit and apron took off for the beach, kidnapping an injured former Tenth Division taichou along for the ride.
When Kuchiki Byakuya and Zaraki Kenpachi stepped through the senkaimon into the sky above Karakura, they were more than a little surprised by the one who had come to greet them.
“Long time no see, Byakuya, Kenpachi,” Isshin, clothed in his shihakushou and once more out of gigai, nodded.
“You would end up here, wouldn’t you?” the stoic Sixth Division taichou replied, contempt replacing shock as soon as he was able to cloak his emotions again. “The substitute shinigami…”
“…Is my son.”
“And Hitsugaya Toushirou…?”
“Do you feel his reiatsu anywhere?” Isshin picked up with an innocent smile.
“That means nothing.”
Their greeter sighed, scratching the back of his neck with a sheepish shrug. Byakuya was as focused as ever, and Kenpachi just looked bored. He was probably disappointed that Isshin was displaying no intent to fight. “If you insist, why don’t we discuss the situation at Kisuke’s, ne? He’s fixing tea as we speak.”
It wasn’t hard to figure out their motives.
Hitsugaya was still wounded. His shoulder and back hurt like hell, and he was exhausted. They must have known that much, and yet the moment he awoke, they had carted him off, injuries and all, to the beach of all places.
They wanted him away from Karakura. There was no way in any of the worlds that Seireitei hadn’t felt his reiatsu burst back to life. The larger the group, the less chance anyone had of identifying any particular shinigami reiatsu signature. Urahara Kisuke had even sent those brats and Tessai along in case of a worst case scenario.
In short, they were stalling for him. They were protecting him.
A few days ago, he would have felt insulted at the idea. Now he wasn’t sure what to think. So he just watched the waves from his perch upon a cluster of rocks, letting his legs hang limply over the edge.
He didn’t know what day it was. Somewhere along the way, he’d forgotten. From the emptiness of the beach, he assumed it was still a weekday, but none of the people who had dragged him along seemed to care, intermingling with each other and the waves and taking a small moment to enjoy a small victory. It took him a few minutes to realize Matsumoto wasn’t among them. But before he could debate whether he should look for her, he felt her coming up behind him, an ice cream sundae in each hand.
“Taichou!” she smiled as she sat down beside him. “This one’s for you, and this one’s for me. Mizuiro paid for them both! Can you believe it?”
A single, white brow rose as he eyed his fukutaichou up and down, and without a word he accepted the sundae. Yes, he could believe it.
“You agreed to no more secrets. So I’ve got a few questions, okay?”
He sighed but gestured for her to continue with his spoon.
“Your reiatsu. It feeds on your reiatsu, right? So as long as you don’t have any, you’re safe. But-”
“But I should be dead?” he finished for her. “It’s not that my reiatsu’s vanished, Matsumoto. I just … managed to control it, in a way.”
“And…? There’s always an ‘and’ or a ‘but’ with you.”
Hitsugaya snorted through a small bite of ice cream. “It does feed off of reiatsu but not just my own. And when I condensed my reiatsu, I condensed it into two separate segments. I only set off one of them.” He could see realization creeping up on Matsumoto’s features and quickly continued. “I can only hold it in that state for so long before I’ll be forced to gradually expand it once more; the result won’t be the same as with Buitre so long as I let the reiatsu expand piece by piece. But-”
“Here it comes,” Matsumoto half chuckled, still looking a bit apprehensive but obviously trying to hide it. “The ‘but.’”
He pretended not to hear her. “But as soon as I expand enough of it, the dormant effects will likely take hold all at once.”
“In other words, you’re fine for as long as you can keep your own reiatsu at bay. How many hours?”
She was asking in hours. Not days, not weeks, but hours. He grimaced. She knew exactly what he was talking about. “Five, at the most.”
“Then what?”
“I don’t know,” he sighed. “Ichimaru seemed adamant that at the end, we would confront each other, but I don’t know whether I can trust him or not. Or even if he simply changed his mind.”
Matsumoto was quiet for all of two minutes before she suddenly stood up. Hitsugaya only had time to give her a quizzical look, and then he was being dragged by the wrist across the rock face. It was easy enough to balance himself, but the ice cream sundae was teetering precariously in his hand with every hop-step they took until they were down on the sand once more, on the opposite side of the rock face from the others.
“Matsumoto!”
But she refused to stop, pulling him across the sand and into the tide until the waves reached his knees. Finally she let go of his wrist and shoved him backward, sundae and all, into an oncoming wave.
Wide-eyed, soaking wet, sitting next to an empty sundae bowl, and confused as never before, the former Tenth Division taichou could only stare at his fukutaichou as if his entire world had just turned purple. And then, of all things, Matsumoto laughed. She laughed her heart out, just standing there in the tide while another wave washed over him.
“Oh, Taichou! If only you could see your face! You look like a drowned puppy!”
“Wh-What the hell was that for?!” he sputtered, salt water spraying from his lips. “Matsumoto, if you-!”
She reached out her hand.
Hitsugaya quieted, staring suspiciously at it for a moment before reaching up to grasp it. The busty woman pulled him back up, brushing some of the sand from his back and rear end. She was careful around his wounds, likely checking to make sure her stupidity hadn’t worsened them.
“No matter what happens,” she whispered firmly from next to his ear, “just remember that I’ll always be waiting right here to pull you back up, okay? Always.”
Well, that was…
He pulled away from her, doing his best to get the rest of the clinging sand off of his wet limbs himself. “Of course. Anything less would be unacceptable,” he huffed. “There has to be some reason you’re still my fukutaichou, after all. You certainly don’t earn your keep in the office.”
“But Taichou! That’s so mean! I’m just not the type of person who works well in cramped places! If you’d just let me take you to that spa again, I’m sure-!”
“Matsumoto,” he interrupted. “I was going to thank you. Don’t push your luck.”
She grinned. “You missed a spot, on the side of your left leg.” He could hear her giggling as he reached down to remove the sand there as well. “You’re welcome, Taichou! Anytime!”
And as she began to walk back over toward the rocks, he couldn’t suppress the smallest of twitches at the edge of his lips, curling his mouth into something that could only have been a genuine smile.
That was kind of … nice.
“Oh, Taichou! I almost forgot!” The smile vanished as she turned around again. It was difficult to see her as the same person she’d been a few seconds ago with a spoonful of ice cream crammed into her mouth. “I took you to the beach, so you owe me!”
“Matsumoto, you didn’t do a thing. You didn’t even pay for the sundaes.”
“You owe me!” she shouted again, firmly. “So when this is all over, you’re taking me somewhere in Seireitei! Got it!”
“On one condition,” he huffed as he caught up to her.
“Oh? And what’s that?”
“Shut your mouth when you’re eating.”
“But! Taichou!”
“Oi, Toushirou, Rangiku!”
The two shinigami whirled around to see Kurosaki Ichigo atop the rocks, waving his arm at them. “C’mon! You have to see this! Rukia’s trying to make a sand Chappy! It’s hilarious!” he cracked up. Just as he’d finished, a large projectile came out of nowhere, sailing through the air at high speeds before connecting with the side of Kurosaki’s skull and sending him right back down to the sand below.
Hitsugaya and Matsumoto exchanged glances.
“Was that a flying sea shell?”
“A conch. It was well aimed. Kuchiki’s been practicing.”
“Well, you’ve got about four and a half more hours. Wanna go see?”
Hitsugaya was quiet for a moment before answering. “Yeah. Let’s.”
And the two of them made their way over the rocks without a care in the world.
They parked a fair distance from Urahara Shoten upon their return, having to walk the rest of the way. A few of the others had been dropped off along the way, so the group now consisted of Kurosaki, Kuchiki, Abarai, Matsumoto, himself, and Tessai with the two brats. It still felt too large for the young shinigami and he stayed to the back during their quiet walk.
A single bead of sweat made its way down his now dry forehead and into his eye, and he frowned as he rubbed it, trying not to get any sand in the eye as well. It had been nearly six hours since he’d said he could hold his reiatsu in for five at most. He could tell by the way Matsumoto would keep moving closer and closer to him every ten minutes or so. But they were only about five minutes away from that crazy man’s storefront. He could manage that long at least. Just five more damned minutes.
It was two minutes later that Tessai stopped, and Kuchiki Rukia’s eyes widened in shock.
“Nii-sama! That’s Nii-sama’s reiatsu! And Zaraki-taichou! What are they doing here?!”
“Don’t look at me!” Kurosaki countered to the smaller woman, even as he immediately turned back to face Hitsugaya. “Oi, Toushirou…”
No answer.
Now everyone was staring at him, but he didn’t seem to notice. He was staring at something on his finger. Something red.
Matsumoto was frantic. “Someone get Urahara! Now! Run, dammit! Forget Kuchiki, just-!”
But before she could finish, the young shinigami let out a choking sound and hastily reached for his head. He looked for all the worlds like he was about to explode. Tessai sent Ururu and Jinta both running to Urahara Shoten, and just as he turned to see the sight himself, Hitsugaya did just that.
The reiatsu he’d still managed to keep condensed shot outward in a miniature shockwave, and several cuts appeared out of nowhere on his body, as if his blood was simply bursting outward with his reiatsu.
Every raw nerve felt as if it had been hit with a hammer.
He didn’t even feel himself collapse. He just knew he did.
Shouting became a cloud of whispers. The world became a misty, ethereal haze.
And then…
Nothing.