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Fanfiction || Treading Icy Waters 25
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.
~*~
"Must not all things at the last be swallowed up in death?"
-Plato
~*~
Chapter Twenty-Five
Pieces of You
~*~
Hitsugaya cursed to himself.
Again and again and again.
Then he dodged a deadly blow and cursed to himself some more.
He hadn't been there long, but he could already tell how hopeless the situation was. Ichimaru was armed, powerful, and on the offensive. Hitsugaya was separated from Hyourinmaru, weak from exhaustion, and on the run. He couldn't hope to come out of this battle as a victor, only alive. And even the chances of that seemed slim.
There was some sort of time limit. He'd discerned that much from Ichimaru's actions. He was fast in everything he did, from his taunts to his attacks. He was obviously trying to accomplish something quickly, unlike the other times they'd met in this darkness when the man had taken his time with his mind games. What the end of that allotted time meant, Hitsugaya could only guess.
No. Guessing was pointless now. Thinking was pointless. All he could do was ask himself questions as he let his instincts take over.
Ichimaru swung the short blade expertly in constant, consecutive strikes. Hitsugaya had discovered that the nonexistent ground was only there when he wanted it to be, much like using hohou to walk on air. That discovery was the only reason he was still alive, and he'd used it to avoid those swift, playful attacks more than once. The likelihood of finding something else he could use to his advantage was so minute that he didn't even consider it. He only dropped down further into the abyss, watching as several white hairs floated in his peripheral vision, separated from his head by Shinsou's blade.
Kidou was useless. Here, in this place, he'd once again lost all consciousness of his own reiatsu. He'd sworn he'd felt it, had been positive that he would be able to harness it, but when the time came to unleash it, it simply hadn't come. It was frightening. Not at all like the out of control aura he'd radiated because of the condition that ravaged his body. His reiatsu, like Hyourinmaru, simply wasn't there anymore. Gone. As if it had never been there in the first place.
Where had it gone? Where had Hyourinmaru gone? He jerked to the left as Shinsou elongated into a violet stab. It nicked his ear. Hot blood rolled around the fleshy lobe and down his neck, but he paid it no mind. He didn't have the time. This place, whatever it was, locked him away from everything he normally used to protect himself.
It occurred to him in a passing moment, as he slipped down and to the left of the oncoming blade, that this situation was familiar. His muscle memory kicked in and told him it was a little like running from Ishida Ryuuken's arrows. The realization made him want to strangle someone. A very particular someone.
Damn that bastard Urahara to hell and back. That one passing moment, that single observation, gave him an idea. A horrible, unrefined, and suicidal idea. And he was going to blame everything bad that happened because of it on that ridiculous man and his bucket hat. Somehow, he'd known something. He may not have known exactly what would happen, but he had definitely known something. And maybe, just maybe, Hitsugaya would survive this mess because of it.
He pushed back, leaping as far away from Ichimaru as he could, glaring daggers at the man as he smiled.
"Yer breathin' pretty hard, little taichou."
Determined not to give anything away, Hitsugaya just let himself breathe, inhale and exhale, his chest rising and falling in time with Ichimaru's clattering footsteps. He had to stall as long as he could, until he could sway the battle the way he wanted. He couldn't allow Ichimaru to realize what he was thinking, and that meant that he had to work up to it at a believable pace. Diving in straight away would be disastrous.
"It ain't like ya ta take all this without threatenin' me. Ain't as fun when I don' get to hear yer angry voice."
"What do you want, Ichimaru?"
"Already told ya. Entertainment."
"No."
Ichimaru paused, thin brows rising as his smirk widened dangerously, anticipating Hitsugaya's words as if he already knew what they'd be.
"What do you want from me?"
"I want," the maniacal snake replied, shooting forward until the tip of his nose was no more than a few centimeters from Hitsugaya's, Shinsou pulled back for a strike, "a boom."
Before the younger could analyze those words for their deeper meaning, he was dodging Shinsou once more.
"Time ta pay up!"
"I don't owe you anything!" Hitsugaya countered savagely, his harsh tone echoing off of nonexistent barriers.
"Then who do ya owe, little taichou?"
The question caught Hitsugaya by surprise, eliciting a hasty gasp. His concentration was thrown off for no more than a second, but a second was all Ichimaru needed.
"Ikorose, Shinsou."
A brilliant white flash signaled the blade's sudden growth right toward Hitsugaya's heart. The smaller shinigami had little time to react, his muscles moving faster than his thoughts. But he didn't dodge. The impact was loud, and Hitsugaya was thrown back several yards before finally coming to a stop. One hand was wrapped tightly, painfully over Shinsou's edge, blood leaking down his arm as Hitsugaya Toushirou took several deep breaths.
He'd stopped the blade just before it reached his chest.
In between breaths, he asserted, "Whatever ... and whoever I owe ... I'll repay them in full ... when I defeat you here!"
His opponent made a muffled noise, a foreign combination of a choke and a laugh, before those brilliant blue irises made another fearful debut. They stood out like neon signs in the nothingness.
In that same instant, he spread his arm in an unholy arc. Shinsou jerked upward and to the right before shrinking back to its original size, blood soaring through the air as the metal snake took two of Hitsugaya's fingers with it.
The wild eyed defector didn't give his prey time to recover from the loss, nor did he say anything more as his mad grin led the rest of him into a swift and silent charge. Some things were simply understood best without words.
~*~
"It's not working!"
"I can see that," Unohana Retsu countered patiently, her tone laced with deadly sweetness. Her hands remained over the small boy's chest, releasing reiatsu in vast quantities, but still the expected symptoms did not come. Hitsugaya Toushiro's body was not dying; it was still connected to his mind.
Mastumoto, Kurosaki, Kuchiki, and Abarai were jumpier than the newest of recruits, every little noise and twitch causing them all to leap out of their skins. Kurosaki at least had the peace of mind to keep switching out the water. Hot or cold, whichever was most necessary at the time, Unohana had it, and Hitsugaya was drenched in it. The other three had been content to stand to the side and watch the master healer work, but when ten minutes had passed and there was still no sign of progress, they had become much more vocal.
"Why isn't it working?" Rangiku persisted.
"Something must be resisting her. Please let her work without further interruption," Rukia replied sternly, though her gaze never left Unohana and her patient.
The Tenth Division fukutaichou paced, tapped her foot, stood rooted firmly in place, rubbed her arms. Two minutes later, she was asking again.
"What's wrong?"
"Matsumoto..."
"Oi, his fingers are turning purple!" Renji stepped in, and all eyes found their way to Hitsugaya's right hand. His pinky and ring finger were indeed discolored.
Matsumoto wanted to vomit. "What does that mean?"
"It means," Unohana replied, her tone just as clipped as her movements, "that his mind believes they are no longer there."
The buxom woman leaned over one of the water basins, but nothing came from her drying throat. She was almost disappointed, as if puking would have somehow made the situation better. But as her grip tightened over the edge of the basin, she was able to force herself into a tense and alert calm, and she could feel her wits returning to her. Just in time, too, as Unohana spoke up again.
"My reiatsu isn't reaching him. Something is absorbing it before it reaches its destination."
"Hitsugaya-tai-" began Renji before he was cut off.
"Is not on this plane, Abarai-fukutaichou."
"Then who is?" Rukia bit at her fingernail.
The answer came from the least likely source, as Kurosaki Ichigo's eyes widened in comprehension. "Hyourinmaru!"
The healer nodded, the green glow that had surrounded her hands ceasing immediately. "Kurosaki-san, please hand Hyourinmaru to me."
"But why would Hitsugaya-taichou's zanpakutou stop Unohana-taichou from helping him?" the tattooed redhead persisted.
"How would I understand a zanpakutou's motives? Stop asking stupid questions, Renji!" his petite companion bit back.
"It's not stupid! Rangiku's captain is-"
"Excuse me!" the substitute shinigami hollered just in time for both Rukia and Renji to be smacked in the head by opposite sides of the unnaturally long weapon.
As the two of them rubbed at their sore craniums, Unohana Retsu accepted Hyourinmaru and unsheathed it. Everyone knew what was going to come next, but somehow knowing made it more unbelievable. Silence - stiff and strong - invaded the space as the most superior officer in the room raised someone else's zanpakutou and plunged it into its owner's heart. The blade passed through him, into the mattress, and out the bottom of the bed. Crackling sounds were soon heard as jagged ice began to spread from the impact point until Hitsugaya Toushirou's entire body was encased in the crystalline shards.
Unohana hadn't hesitated, ruthlessly accurate and without doubt. She swiped the back of her hand against her forehead, and that was the first time that Matsumoto Rangiku realized the woman was sweating.
She couldn't stay in this room.
"Tea. I'm going to start some tea, for when he wakes up," Rangiku informed them as she hastily made her exit.
Renji tried to follow, but Ichigo held him back. "He's gonna need a change of clothes too," he reminded the Sixth Division fukutaichou as his eyes trailed to where Rukia still stood, her thumb nail bitten down as far as it could be without drawing blood.
Renji gave him a hard look, but then he nodded, dragging Rukia along with him.
"You do remember you're under house arrest," Unohana sighed once she and Kurosaki were the only two left.
"You gonna stop them?" he retorted before grabbing a chair and dragging it loudly across the room to Hitsugaya's bedside. "I should be enough, right? They won't leave the Fourth Division."
She was silent for a moment before shaking her head. "Please tell Matsumoto-fukutaichou that I would like some tea as well."
~*~
It wasn't painful so much as distracting. It hurt like hell, but Hitsugaya had dealt with much worse. And so his right hand freely bled, only three fingers remaining. The others had quickly lost themselves to the abyss. That was okay; he could work with this. He could still do what he needed to do. It wasn't as if he had a sword to hold anyway.
Ichimaru stabbed his blade downward, catching the boy's haori, but he wriggled out of the symbolic fabric, closing the distance before shoving his left palm up into the bottom of Shinsou's hilt in an attempt to force it out of Ichimaru's hands. It didn't work, demonstrated when he was sent flying backward by a knee to his chest. He would have simply kept falling if he hadn't regained his wits enough to stand on the stale air.
As he was getting back up, his own haori met his face. He ducked to the left and ran the second his vision was obscured, narrowly missing a beheading at the hands of the hungry snake before him. He nearly tripped over his own two feet but struggled on. The only reason he was even staying balanced was that he never stopped moving. The moment it felt as if his legs would give out, he just pressed forward. But he couldn't keep this up forever. He had to figure out a way to harm Ichimaru Gin while unarmed.
Well, the bastard had returned his haori to him. Might as well put it to use.
~*~
When Tatsuki entered the familiar underground training facility, she wasn't surprised to find Orihime punching and kicking at the air. The girl had great form, though no one would ever guess, not even Orihime herself.
"Orihime..." she trailed off as she came closer. "You should be home."
Her close friend instantly stopped, turning to face her with glassy eyes and quivering lips. "They wouldn't let me help him. I have to get stronger! I have to get stronger so that I can help everyone! Kurosaki-kun can do it, so why can't I?"
Tatsuki took hold of the sniffling girl's shoulders before pulling her into a half-hug. "Anything Ichigo can do, you can do better. You just ... need someone around to show you the way that's best for you."
"...That's what Kuchiki-san is to him, right?" Orihime whispered, melting into Tatsuki's embrace.
"Maybe," the darker girl sighed.
Orihime looked up then, tears finally welling over. "So who can be mine?"
The smallest of smiles played across Tatsuki's lips before she grabbed onto Orihime's wrist and squeezed, pulling back from their close contact. "Well, since you're already here and all, maybe I should teach you this neat trick I learned a while back. It'll probably help you with those shields of yours."
~*~
Using as much strength as he could muster, Hitsugaya pressed forward, gripping his haori tightly in his uninjured hand. He leaped into the air, landing atop Shinsou's blade mid-swipe as he flung his other hand right in front of Ichimaru's face. Blood went flying into squinting eyes, and Ichimaru staggered backward, caught momentarily off guard.
The younger shinigami was not about to miss his chance.
Pushing Shinsou downward, he jumped right over Ichimaru's head and landed behind him, flinging his haori around the traitor's left knee and catching it with his injured hand. He ducked low, yanking Ichimaru's knee backward while kicking his ankle forward. The resounding crack echoed loudly against nonexistent walls.
Even from behind, Hitsugaya could feel the change in the atmosphere. Ichimaru Gin wasn't smiling anymore.
Before Hitsugaya could move out of the way, Shinsou came barreling through Ichimaru's clothing, moving upward in a perfect arc that sliced through thigh, ribs, and elbow without bias.
~*~
"This whole thing smells rotten."
Shinji turned to face the aggravated girl in pigtails, a sly smile growing across his lips. She was sitting off to the side while everyone else was either helping Rose with fixing dinner or trying to talk Rose out of fixing dinner. He prodded her in the back of the head with his foot.
"Worried about that burst o' reiatsu a while ago?" he sneered.
She grabbed his foot without turning around and yanked, grinning in satisfaction when she heard a loud crack. "I wasn't talking about that damn shinigami. I was talking about dinner."
"Not surprisin'. S'Rose's turn. We'll just wait 'til he's sleepin', and grab some take-out."
"Che," she croaked. "He's as good as dead anyway."
Blowing a strand of hair out of his face, Shinji pulled himself up and brought his feet down over her head as a foot rest. "He's not that bad a cook. Not as bad as you anyway."
She leaned forward, kicking her foot back in between his legs. He doubled over. "I wasn't talking about dinner. I was talking about that damn shinigami."
It took a while before Shinji regained his voice enough to reply, but when he did, he wrapped his legs around her neck and flung her down to the ground with him. "He owes us. He won't die."
Hiyori quickly followed through by biting his ankle. "How d'ya figure?"
"If a shinigami captain is desperate enough to come to us for help… Well," the vaizard chuckled as he rammed his other foot into her jaw, "what else is he willin' to do to stick around?"
Reaching back, she tightly grasped both of his wrists and rammed him into the ground in front of her. "He's just asking for a beating!"
Shinji readjusted his cap. "Shinigami always do."
"I wasn't talking about the damn shinigami. I was talking about dinner."
The golden haired former captain of the Fifth Division of the Gotei 13 promptly turned around to see Rose lavishing a pot with a mixture of salsa, peanut butter, and celery.
Alright. Rose was never getting a turn again.
~*~
That had not been part of the plan.
Hitsugaya Toushirou wheezed painfully as he tried to stand, his left side soaked in blood. His entire left forearm had been rendered unusable, the cut into his elbow deep enough to leave the nerves severed. His ribs were a disconnected mess, and there was definitely organ damage, lung most likely. A shinigami could take a lot more than a human, but it was a miracle that he was able to stand at all, especially the way his thigh burned under the pressure.
He could barely stand. There was no way in hell he would be able to run.
Ichimaru's approaching footsteps, uneven because of Hitsugaya's small success, summoned something within his gut, and he forced his battered body forward, one leg and then the other. Muscles, tendons, and bones shrieked in agony, but he was silent. He couldn't afford to waste any part of his mind or body on speaking. Even in this condition, he could do it. He would do it.
Those foreboding foot falls came to a halt when the antagonistic man realized that Hitsugaya was walking toward him. Not away from him but toward him. One step at a time, oozing blood, breathing heavily with every slight movement. The boy was very carefully, very painfully walking to his death.
"Still so stubborn, little captain?" he cooed.
Hitsugaya still said nothing, only taking another excruciating step toward his attacker.
"Hopin' fer a miracle?"
One more step forward.
"Refusin' ta say 'Uncle'?"
One more step forward.
Finally, Ichimaru Gin's face once again erupted in a manic smirk. This was too perfect. The little brat really wasn't giving up. He would never give up. No matter the odds, he was going to push forward until he could no longer move a single muscle in his body. The man could feel the tension in the air rising, and he reveled in it.
This was it, the defining moment. Two weeks of torture, mind games, and observation had led up to these next two minutes.
"Ready ta die?"
Hitsugaya's head shot upward, fierce teal glaring into excited slits. When he did manage to speak, his voice was rasped, a breathy, hoarse whisper.
"I dare you."
Ichimaru didn't waste another second. Shinsou elongated, the deadly metal shooting right through Hitsugaya's chest and out the smalls of his back.
~*~
"Boo!"
Urahara Kisuke, perhaps the only man who'd ever managed to become infamous in every dimension, jumped into the air in shock when Isshin reached down to take the empty cup out of his hands.
"Isshin…?"
"The girls are watching tv with Ururu and Jinta," the grim father replied as he replaced the empty cup with a full one. "I've been walking around the place for a good fifteen minutes, and you haven't budged an inch."
Kisuke laughed. It wasn't a happy laugh. "It's funny, isn't it? How us old fogies are left with nothing to do but think while the kids finish all of our dirty work."
"What has you so wound up now?" Isshin sighed, taking a sip from his own mug.
"That sad bag of an arrancar summed it up nicely. She said that I wouldn't stop this because I wanted to see the outcome just as badly as Aizen and Ichimaru," he grinned darkly. "And now here we are, waiting to see that outcome."
"Well," the other man began wryly, "do you want to see it?"
A fatal gleam flashed across the man's deep eyes. "Very much so."
"Then I'm sure it'll be spectacular."
He raised his mug into the air, and after a moment of contemplation, Urahara followed suit.
"To Hitsugaya Toushirou. May he go out with a bang."
~*~
The blood soaked, beaten shinigami had no choice but to hold his three remaining usable fingers over Shinsou's blade, pushing his palm down on the unforgiving metal to make sure that his shaking body rose with the weapon. His insides wouldn't take another slashing. He'd be dead before he hit the ground.
His feet dangled as Ichimaru continued to slowly raise his weapon, letting it shrink in length just as slowly until the two shinigami were about two meters apart, facing each other eye to eye.
And just when Ichimaru thought Hitsugaya might have simply died with his expression locked in that stare, bloody lips upturned into a self-satisfied smirk.
His palm clasped the blade tighter, mindless of further bloodshed. He pictured a current of water surrounding his body, diverting the flow into his arm as if there were a marble-sized whirlpool in his fist. Slowly but surely a pale blue light began to grow around Shinsou.
Ichimaru watched in awe, neon irises exposed to the world.
"Souten ni zase," Hitsugaya rasped, his voice breaking, "Hyourinmaru!"
The light burst around his fist, forming jagged batches of ice along the blade. Then formed the head, the heated red eyes, the merciless gnashing teeth. Over Ichimaru's hands, his arms, his body, his face – the ice spread everywhere. The layers built up thicker and sharper as they grew outward, enveloping the entire dimension of space. The intense dragon that formed was larger than usual, shooting above Hitsugaya's head before crashing down, jaw unhinged, upon its little fox lunch.
With one final roar - Ichimaru, Shinsou, the nothingness – it all shattered, shards of ice and glass berating him as the zanpakutou holding him in the air was no more, and he plunged into the endless white expanse below.
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.
"Must not all things at the last be swallowed up in death?"
-Plato
~*~
Chapter Twenty-Five
Pieces of You
~*~
Hitsugaya cursed to himself.
Again and again and again.
Then he dodged a deadly blow and cursed to himself some more.
He hadn't been there long, but he could already tell how hopeless the situation was. Ichimaru was armed, powerful, and on the offensive. Hitsugaya was separated from Hyourinmaru, weak from exhaustion, and on the run. He couldn't hope to come out of this battle as a victor, only alive. And even the chances of that seemed slim.
There was some sort of time limit. He'd discerned that much from Ichimaru's actions. He was fast in everything he did, from his taunts to his attacks. He was obviously trying to accomplish something quickly, unlike the other times they'd met in this darkness when the man had taken his time with his mind games. What the end of that allotted time meant, Hitsugaya could only guess.
No. Guessing was pointless now. Thinking was pointless. All he could do was ask himself questions as he let his instincts take over.
Ichimaru swung the short blade expertly in constant, consecutive strikes. Hitsugaya had discovered that the nonexistent ground was only there when he wanted it to be, much like using hohou to walk on air. That discovery was the only reason he was still alive, and he'd used it to avoid those swift, playful attacks more than once. The likelihood of finding something else he could use to his advantage was so minute that he didn't even consider it. He only dropped down further into the abyss, watching as several white hairs floated in his peripheral vision, separated from his head by Shinsou's blade.
Kidou was useless. Here, in this place, he'd once again lost all consciousness of his own reiatsu. He'd sworn he'd felt it, had been positive that he would be able to harness it, but when the time came to unleash it, it simply hadn't come. It was frightening. Not at all like the out of control aura he'd radiated because of the condition that ravaged his body. His reiatsu, like Hyourinmaru, simply wasn't there anymore. Gone. As if it had never been there in the first place.
Where had it gone? Where had Hyourinmaru gone? He jerked to the left as Shinsou elongated into a violet stab. It nicked his ear. Hot blood rolled around the fleshy lobe and down his neck, but he paid it no mind. He didn't have the time. This place, whatever it was, locked him away from everything he normally used to protect himself.
It occurred to him in a passing moment, as he slipped down and to the left of the oncoming blade, that this situation was familiar. His muscle memory kicked in and told him it was a little like running from Ishida Ryuuken's arrows. The realization made him want to strangle someone. A very particular someone.
Damn that bastard Urahara to hell and back. That one passing moment, that single observation, gave him an idea. A horrible, unrefined, and suicidal idea. And he was going to blame everything bad that happened because of it on that ridiculous man and his bucket hat. Somehow, he'd known something. He may not have known exactly what would happen, but he had definitely known something. And maybe, just maybe, Hitsugaya would survive this mess because of it.
He pushed back, leaping as far away from Ichimaru as he could, glaring daggers at the man as he smiled.
"Yer breathin' pretty hard, little taichou."
Determined not to give anything away, Hitsugaya just let himself breathe, inhale and exhale, his chest rising and falling in time with Ichimaru's clattering footsteps. He had to stall as long as he could, until he could sway the battle the way he wanted. He couldn't allow Ichimaru to realize what he was thinking, and that meant that he had to work up to it at a believable pace. Diving in straight away would be disastrous.
"It ain't like ya ta take all this without threatenin' me. Ain't as fun when I don' get to hear yer angry voice."
"What do you want, Ichimaru?"
"Already told ya. Entertainment."
"No."
Ichimaru paused, thin brows rising as his smirk widened dangerously, anticipating Hitsugaya's words as if he already knew what they'd be.
"What do you want from me?"
"I want," the maniacal snake replied, shooting forward until the tip of his nose was no more than a few centimeters from Hitsugaya's, Shinsou pulled back for a strike, "a boom."
Before the younger could analyze those words for their deeper meaning, he was dodging Shinsou once more.
"Time ta pay up!"
"I don't owe you anything!" Hitsugaya countered savagely, his harsh tone echoing off of nonexistent barriers.
"Then who do ya owe, little taichou?"
The question caught Hitsugaya by surprise, eliciting a hasty gasp. His concentration was thrown off for no more than a second, but a second was all Ichimaru needed.
"Ikorose, Shinsou."
A brilliant white flash signaled the blade's sudden growth right toward Hitsugaya's heart. The smaller shinigami had little time to react, his muscles moving faster than his thoughts. But he didn't dodge. The impact was loud, and Hitsugaya was thrown back several yards before finally coming to a stop. One hand was wrapped tightly, painfully over Shinsou's edge, blood leaking down his arm as Hitsugaya Toushirou took several deep breaths.
He'd stopped the blade just before it reached his chest.
In between breaths, he asserted, "Whatever ... and whoever I owe ... I'll repay them in full ... when I defeat you here!"
His opponent made a muffled noise, a foreign combination of a choke and a laugh, before those brilliant blue irises made another fearful debut. They stood out like neon signs in the nothingness.
In that same instant, he spread his arm in an unholy arc. Shinsou jerked upward and to the right before shrinking back to its original size, blood soaring through the air as the metal snake took two of Hitsugaya's fingers with it.
The wild eyed defector didn't give his prey time to recover from the loss, nor did he say anything more as his mad grin led the rest of him into a swift and silent charge. Some things were simply understood best without words.
"It's not working!"
"I can see that," Unohana Retsu countered patiently, her tone laced with deadly sweetness. Her hands remained over the small boy's chest, releasing reiatsu in vast quantities, but still the expected symptoms did not come. Hitsugaya Toushiro's body was not dying; it was still connected to his mind.
Mastumoto, Kurosaki, Kuchiki, and Abarai were jumpier than the newest of recruits, every little noise and twitch causing them all to leap out of their skins. Kurosaki at least had the peace of mind to keep switching out the water. Hot or cold, whichever was most necessary at the time, Unohana had it, and Hitsugaya was drenched in it. The other three had been content to stand to the side and watch the master healer work, but when ten minutes had passed and there was still no sign of progress, they had become much more vocal.
"Why isn't it working?" Rangiku persisted.
"Something must be resisting her. Please let her work without further interruption," Rukia replied sternly, though her gaze never left Unohana and her patient.
The Tenth Division fukutaichou paced, tapped her foot, stood rooted firmly in place, rubbed her arms. Two minutes later, she was asking again.
"What's wrong?"
"Matsumoto..."
"Oi, his fingers are turning purple!" Renji stepped in, and all eyes found their way to Hitsugaya's right hand. His pinky and ring finger were indeed discolored.
Matsumoto wanted to vomit. "What does that mean?"
"It means," Unohana replied, her tone just as clipped as her movements, "that his mind believes they are no longer there."
The buxom woman leaned over one of the water basins, but nothing came from her drying throat. She was almost disappointed, as if puking would have somehow made the situation better. But as her grip tightened over the edge of the basin, she was able to force herself into a tense and alert calm, and she could feel her wits returning to her. Just in time, too, as Unohana spoke up again.
"My reiatsu isn't reaching him. Something is absorbing it before it reaches its destination."
"Hitsugaya-tai-" began Renji before he was cut off.
"Is not on this plane, Abarai-fukutaichou."
"Then who is?" Rukia bit at her fingernail.
The answer came from the least likely source, as Kurosaki Ichigo's eyes widened in comprehension. "Hyourinmaru!"
The healer nodded, the green glow that had surrounded her hands ceasing immediately. "Kurosaki-san, please hand Hyourinmaru to me."
"But why would Hitsugaya-taichou's zanpakutou stop Unohana-taichou from helping him?" the tattooed redhead persisted.
"How would I understand a zanpakutou's motives? Stop asking stupid questions, Renji!" his petite companion bit back.
"It's not stupid! Rangiku's captain is-"
"Excuse me!" the substitute shinigami hollered just in time for both Rukia and Renji to be smacked in the head by opposite sides of the unnaturally long weapon.
As the two of them rubbed at their sore craniums, Unohana Retsu accepted Hyourinmaru and unsheathed it. Everyone knew what was going to come next, but somehow knowing made it more unbelievable. Silence - stiff and strong - invaded the space as the most superior officer in the room raised someone else's zanpakutou and plunged it into its owner's heart. The blade passed through him, into the mattress, and out the bottom of the bed. Crackling sounds were soon heard as jagged ice began to spread from the impact point until Hitsugaya Toushirou's entire body was encased in the crystalline shards.
Unohana hadn't hesitated, ruthlessly accurate and without doubt. She swiped the back of her hand against her forehead, and that was the first time that Matsumoto Rangiku realized the woman was sweating.
She couldn't stay in this room.
"Tea. I'm going to start some tea, for when he wakes up," Rangiku informed them as she hastily made her exit.
Renji tried to follow, but Ichigo held him back. "He's gonna need a change of clothes too," he reminded the Sixth Division fukutaichou as his eyes trailed to where Rukia still stood, her thumb nail bitten down as far as it could be without drawing blood.
Renji gave him a hard look, but then he nodded, dragging Rukia along with him.
"You do remember you're under house arrest," Unohana sighed once she and Kurosaki were the only two left.
"You gonna stop them?" he retorted before grabbing a chair and dragging it loudly across the room to Hitsugaya's bedside. "I should be enough, right? They won't leave the Fourth Division."
She was silent for a moment before shaking her head. "Please tell Matsumoto-fukutaichou that I would like some tea as well."
It wasn't painful so much as distracting. It hurt like hell, but Hitsugaya had dealt with much worse. And so his right hand freely bled, only three fingers remaining. The others had quickly lost themselves to the abyss. That was okay; he could work with this. He could still do what he needed to do. It wasn't as if he had a sword to hold anyway.
Ichimaru stabbed his blade downward, catching the boy's haori, but he wriggled out of the symbolic fabric, closing the distance before shoving his left palm up into the bottom of Shinsou's hilt in an attempt to force it out of Ichimaru's hands. It didn't work, demonstrated when he was sent flying backward by a knee to his chest. He would have simply kept falling if he hadn't regained his wits enough to stand on the stale air.
As he was getting back up, his own haori met his face. He ducked to the left and ran the second his vision was obscured, narrowly missing a beheading at the hands of the hungry snake before him. He nearly tripped over his own two feet but struggled on. The only reason he was even staying balanced was that he never stopped moving. The moment it felt as if his legs would give out, he just pressed forward. But he couldn't keep this up forever. He had to figure out a way to harm Ichimaru Gin while unarmed.
Well, the bastard had returned his haori to him. Might as well put it to use.
When Tatsuki entered the familiar underground training facility, she wasn't surprised to find Orihime punching and kicking at the air. The girl had great form, though no one would ever guess, not even Orihime herself.
"Orihime..." she trailed off as she came closer. "You should be home."
Her close friend instantly stopped, turning to face her with glassy eyes and quivering lips. "They wouldn't let me help him. I have to get stronger! I have to get stronger so that I can help everyone! Kurosaki-kun can do it, so why can't I?"
Tatsuki took hold of the sniffling girl's shoulders before pulling her into a half-hug. "Anything Ichigo can do, you can do better. You just ... need someone around to show you the way that's best for you."
"...That's what Kuchiki-san is to him, right?" Orihime whispered, melting into Tatsuki's embrace.
"Maybe," the darker girl sighed.
Orihime looked up then, tears finally welling over. "So who can be mine?"
The smallest of smiles played across Tatsuki's lips before she grabbed onto Orihime's wrist and squeezed, pulling back from their close contact. "Well, since you're already here and all, maybe I should teach you this neat trick I learned a while back. It'll probably help you with those shields of yours."
Using as much strength as he could muster, Hitsugaya pressed forward, gripping his haori tightly in his uninjured hand. He leaped into the air, landing atop Shinsou's blade mid-swipe as he flung his other hand right in front of Ichimaru's face. Blood went flying into squinting eyes, and Ichimaru staggered backward, caught momentarily off guard.
The younger shinigami was not about to miss his chance.
Pushing Shinsou downward, he jumped right over Ichimaru's head and landed behind him, flinging his haori around the traitor's left knee and catching it with his injured hand. He ducked low, yanking Ichimaru's knee backward while kicking his ankle forward. The resounding crack echoed loudly against nonexistent walls.
Even from behind, Hitsugaya could feel the change in the atmosphere. Ichimaru Gin wasn't smiling anymore.
Before Hitsugaya could move out of the way, Shinsou came barreling through Ichimaru's clothing, moving upward in a perfect arc that sliced through thigh, ribs, and elbow without bias.
"This whole thing smells rotten."
Shinji turned to face the aggravated girl in pigtails, a sly smile growing across his lips. She was sitting off to the side while everyone else was either helping Rose with fixing dinner or trying to talk Rose out of fixing dinner. He prodded her in the back of the head with his foot.
"Worried about that burst o' reiatsu a while ago?" he sneered.
She grabbed his foot without turning around and yanked, grinning in satisfaction when she heard a loud crack. "I wasn't talking about that damn shinigami. I was talking about dinner."
"Not surprisin'. S'Rose's turn. We'll just wait 'til he's sleepin', and grab some take-out."
"Che," she croaked. "He's as good as dead anyway."
Blowing a strand of hair out of his face, Shinji pulled himself up and brought his feet down over her head as a foot rest. "He's not that bad a cook. Not as bad as you anyway."
She leaned forward, kicking her foot back in between his legs. He doubled over. "I wasn't talking about dinner. I was talking about that damn shinigami."
It took a while before Shinji regained his voice enough to reply, but when he did, he wrapped his legs around her neck and flung her down to the ground with him. "He owes us. He won't die."
Hiyori quickly followed through by biting his ankle. "How d'ya figure?"
"If a shinigami captain is desperate enough to come to us for help… Well," the vaizard chuckled as he rammed his other foot into her jaw, "what else is he willin' to do to stick around?"
Reaching back, she tightly grasped both of his wrists and rammed him into the ground in front of her. "He's just asking for a beating!"
Shinji readjusted his cap. "Shinigami always do."
"I wasn't talking about the damn shinigami. I was talking about dinner."
The golden haired former captain of the Fifth Division of the Gotei 13 promptly turned around to see Rose lavishing a pot with a mixture of salsa, peanut butter, and celery.
Alright. Rose was never getting a turn again.
That had not been part of the plan.
Hitsugaya Toushirou wheezed painfully as he tried to stand, his left side soaked in blood. His entire left forearm had been rendered unusable, the cut into his elbow deep enough to leave the nerves severed. His ribs were a disconnected mess, and there was definitely organ damage, lung most likely. A shinigami could take a lot more than a human, but it was a miracle that he was able to stand at all, especially the way his thigh burned under the pressure.
He could barely stand. There was no way in hell he would be able to run.
Ichimaru's approaching footsteps, uneven because of Hitsugaya's small success, summoned something within his gut, and he forced his battered body forward, one leg and then the other. Muscles, tendons, and bones shrieked in agony, but he was silent. He couldn't afford to waste any part of his mind or body on speaking. Even in this condition, he could do it. He would do it.
Those foreboding foot falls came to a halt when the antagonistic man realized that Hitsugaya was walking toward him. Not away from him but toward him. One step at a time, oozing blood, breathing heavily with every slight movement. The boy was very carefully, very painfully walking to his death.
"Still so stubborn, little captain?" he cooed.
Hitsugaya still said nothing, only taking another excruciating step toward his attacker.
"Hopin' fer a miracle?"
One more step forward.
"Refusin' ta say 'Uncle'?"
One more step forward.
Finally, Ichimaru Gin's face once again erupted in a manic smirk. This was too perfect. The little brat really wasn't giving up. He would never give up. No matter the odds, he was going to push forward until he could no longer move a single muscle in his body. The man could feel the tension in the air rising, and he reveled in it.
This was it, the defining moment. Two weeks of torture, mind games, and observation had led up to these next two minutes.
"Ready ta die?"
Hitsugaya's head shot upward, fierce teal glaring into excited slits. When he did manage to speak, his voice was rasped, a breathy, hoarse whisper.
"I dare you."
Ichimaru didn't waste another second. Shinsou elongated, the deadly metal shooting right through Hitsugaya's chest and out the smalls of his back.
"Boo!"
Urahara Kisuke, perhaps the only man who'd ever managed to become infamous in every dimension, jumped into the air in shock when Isshin reached down to take the empty cup out of his hands.
"Isshin…?"
"The girls are watching tv with Ururu and Jinta," the grim father replied as he replaced the empty cup with a full one. "I've been walking around the place for a good fifteen minutes, and you haven't budged an inch."
Kisuke laughed. It wasn't a happy laugh. "It's funny, isn't it? How us old fogies are left with nothing to do but think while the kids finish all of our dirty work."
"What has you so wound up now?" Isshin sighed, taking a sip from his own mug.
"That sad bag of an arrancar summed it up nicely. She said that I wouldn't stop this because I wanted to see the outcome just as badly as Aizen and Ichimaru," he grinned darkly. "And now here we are, waiting to see that outcome."
"Well," the other man began wryly, "do you want to see it?"
A fatal gleam flashed across the man's deep eyes. "Very much so."
"Then I'm sure it'll be spectacular."
He raised his mug into the air, and after a moment of contemplation, Urahara followed suit.
"To Hitsugaya Toushirou. May he go out with a bang."
The blood soaked, beaten shinigami had no choice but to hold his three remaining usable fingers over Shinsou's blade, pushing his palm down on the unforgiving metal to make sure that his shaking body rose with the weapon. His insides wouldn't take another slashing. He'd be dead before he hit the ground.
His feet dangled as Ichimaru continued to slowly raise his weapon, letting it shrink in length just as slowly until the two shinigami were about two meters apart, facing each other eye to eye.
And just when Ichimaru thought Hitsugaya might have simply died with his expression locked in that stare, bloody lips upturned into a self-satisfied smirk.
His palm clasped the blade tighter, mindless of further bloodshed. He pictured a current of water surrounding his body, diverting the flow into his arm as if there were a marble-sized whirlpool in his fist. Slowly but surely a pale blue light began to grow around Shinsou.
Ichimaru watched in awe, neon irises exposed to the world.
"Souten ni zase," Hitsugaya rasped, his voice breaking, "Hyourinmaru!"
The light burst around his fist, forming jagged batches of ice along the blade. Then formed the head, the heated red eyes, the merciless gnashing teeth. Over Ichimaru's hands, his arms, his body, his face – the ice spread everywhere. The layers built up thicker and sharper as they grew outward, enveloping the entire dimension of space. The intense dragon that formed was larger than usual, shooting above Hitsugaya's head before crashing down, jaw unhinged, upon its little fox lunch.
With one final roar - Ichimaru, Shinsou, the nothingness – it all shattered, shards of ice and glass berating him as the zanpakutou holding him in the air was no more, and he plunged into the endless white expanse below.