Fanfiction || Treading Icy Waters 03
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.
Author's Note: Updated 8/10/2011.
~*~
“Wastes of Lives-resown with Colors
By Succeeding Springs-
Death-unto itself-Exception-
Is exempt from Change-”
-Emily Dickinson
~*~
Chapter Three
Interrupt Homeostasis
~*~
Hitsugaya did not question the fact that no hollows intruded upon him after his final bout had ended. It was obvious that the arrancar, especially the male one, had been controlling them from the start. If he had been able to defeat the woman, then surely Zaraki had defeated the other by now.
The boy forced himself to stand up once again, shaking that last image of the arrancar from his mind. It would not do to dwell on the psychology of the insane. It would only serve to worsen his steadily increasing headache.
Zaraki seemed to have calmed down for the most part. He didn’t have to concentrate quite so hard to locate his companions this time around anyway. Kusajishi was still planted on her surrogate father’s backside, rather more like a convenient outgrowth than a lieutenant in Hitsugaya’s opinion. Those two hadn’t strayed far from where they had encountered the arrancar originally. Matsumoto, on the other hand, was hastily making her way in this direction from quite a ways to his left.
He felt rather than saw her crash down into the foliage beside him. It wasn’t a very graceful landing, but he wasn’t exactly one to talk at the moment.
“Taichou!” she called as she strode the last few meters between them.
He looked up at her for a moment before turning away irritably. Getting stabbed in the back sometimes did that to a person. Not that he’d ever admit to succumbing. “I dealt with it. Zaraki must have defeated the second one by now.” His frown deepened slightly at his wording. So she was back to an it then. He supposed it was just easier that way.
Matsumoto nodded. Just once. Then she froze.
This earned her a questioning glare from her captain as he slowly turned to face her once again. “What?” he asked impatiently.
“Taichou! Your back!”
“What about it?” he hissed.
Hitsugaya watched contemptfully as Matsumoto opened her mouth to reply, but before anything more could actually be said, they were interrupted by a far more trying voice. He would have rather argued hours with Matsumoto than have to deal with her at the moment. Unfortunately, life had a bad habit of ignoring his preferences.
“Ookii Ookii!” came the high-pitched shout as Zaraki Kenpachi stepped into sight, and Yachiru jumped off his wide shoulders in order to latch herself around Matsumoto’s waste. “You guys were gone so long, an' I didn’t get to see you when you got back! Yachiru missed you!”
“I-I missed you too, Yachiru-chan, but right now I’m trying-”
“Woah! What happened to Bitty-taichou?!”
Hitsugaya tried his best not to show his annoyance. He had hoped that Kusajishi would at least distract Matsumoto long enough for him to cover the wound, but now there was absolutely no chance of that. Well, he might as well make the best of the situation; he was stuck with it now. He’d just have to make sure that he didn't flinch, especially with Zaraki around, and find out what had them so irrationally interested in a little gash.
“It’s just a stab wound. I don’t see why you’re making such a fuss over it,” he grumbled to Matsumoto.
“That was a stab wound?” his fukutaichou spat back. He had to admit the look of utter disbelief on her face had him interested now.
“It’s so weird!” Yachiru suddenly called out from behind him. He whirled around to face her, frowning. “It’s all black and funny! And there’s not even a drop of blood!”
Was that... disappointment in her voice? Hitsugaya pushed the thought aside. Frankly, he didn’t want to know. He had heard enough about his wound for now and did not want anyone prying any further. Prying may lead to questions which may lead to answers that he wasn’t ready to give yet. Once he was safely situated between the other Gotei 13 captains and their direct subordinates, looking anywhere except at his own lieutenant, he would be able to relay the information he had learned, but he would not - could not - do it now. He could not say it if he had to see her expression.
Ichimaru...
“Poke!”
Hitsugaya’s world was flipped upside down and inside out as he was forced from his thoughts into a reality of blinding, ear-splitting pain shooting up his unsuspecting spinal column. He just managed to halt any exclamation that may have jumped unbidden from his lips by twisting jerkily around and leaping backward, away from the small, disastrously curious lieutenant. Wincing as he did so, he stood up to his full height once more, glaring Yachiru into the ground.
So much for not flinching...
“Never do that again,” he hissed through tightly clenched teeth.
Either constant exposure to Zaraki’s killing intent had given her complete immunity or she had interpreted Hitsugaya’s homicidal blood lust as something else entirely because not a second after she received his infamous death glare she giggled and jumped back up onto her captain’s back, clinging to his haori blissfully. “Ken-chan! I found Bitty-taichou’s angry button!” she cheered happily as Zaraki sent the younger boy a demeaning smirk.
Hitsugaya did his best to ignore the duo as he once again donned his haori, covering up the strange wound in a silent but obvious demand that the subject be closed. Apparently no one was listening to his demands today, spoken or unspoken.
“Taichou...” he heard Matsumoto’s concerned tone trail off as she approached him once more.
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not. But...” Her voice had changed from concerned to stern over the course of only three words, and now it was becoming disturbingly playful. “I’m sure it’s nothing that a looong, relaaaxing night of keeping ourselves warm under the kotatsu in loving embrace wouldn’t fix.”
Hitsugaya felt his whole face rise dramatically in temperature and hastily turned away. “Fine. I’ll visit the Fourth Division. After I file the report for this mission,” he acquiesced, suddenly very interested in a rotting tree that just happened by pure coincidence to be sitting in the exact opposite direction of Matsumoto’s grinning face.
~*~
The walk back was uneventful for the most part. The brat and Rangiku had muttered to each other a bit every now and then, and Yachiru had peeked over his shoulder a few times to point out the scenery, but otherwise it was quiet. Kenpachi didn’t mind though. It wasn’t as if he had much to say.
The arrancar had been disappointing. He had expected something a little more challenging. Then again, ever since his battle (because it was much more than just a fight) with Kurosaki Ichigo even the strongest of opponents had seemed only average. Oh well, he’d just have to wait for these Espada to show their cowardly faces. Then he’d finally get a thrill.
Speaking of thrills, the burly captain turned his head and looked down his shoulder to better see his equal in rank (if slightly lacking in the category of stature). The Tenth Division leader was a fairly interesting guy, Kenpachi had to admit, but he was also far too uptight and prudent for Kenpachi’s tastes.
Usually the kid was very particular about the amount of energy he’d reveal to any given person. In fact, his intense discipline in that area was downright secretive. He held in every ounce of pressure he could muster until a situation came that made its release absolutely necessary. But right now, Kenpachi could sense a steady flow easing from the boy’s body. It wasn't quite enough reiatsu to filter for emotion or motivation, but it was certainly enough to notice. The battle-worn warrior grinned as he turned away.
Maybe the little punk was finally starting to lighten up a bit.
~*~
Hitsugaya stared angrily down at his pen. He wanted to break it in half. He wanted to toss it in a shredder. He wanted to freeze it, then watch it shatter into a million useless pieces.
This, he knew, was what Matsumoto often referred to as “misplaced aggression.” According to his lieutenant, she was his usual target, but today she was a part of what was frustrating him and so the brunt of the blow fell upon his brand new ballpoint pen.
For the first time in decades, Hitsugaya could not concentrate on his work. There were just far too many distractions floating this way and that inside his above-average mind for him to focus on a report chronicling the lack of high quality perfume within Seireitei, submitted by the ever-vigilant Shinigami Women’s Association earlier that morning. Not only did he have a splitting migraine, but he was having serious problems controlling his reiryoku. He hadn’t really noticed it until Zaraki had made a snide joke on the matter, something about testosterone or the like. Hitsugaya hadn’t found it funny. But if even someone like Zaraki who was utterly ill-versed and uninterested in sensing reiatsu was able to see the difference, then that meant there was definitely something wrong. And it also meant that nearly everyone else had to have noticed by now as well.
Then, of course, there was the issue of Ichimaru Gin, the reason Hitsugaya had yet to give in to Matsumoto and visit the Fourth Division. He knew he would have to go eventually, but he had been waiting for her to settle down into her regularly scheduled nap on the couch in the center of his office before he did so. He had an inkling Unohana-taichou would want answers that he didn’t wish to bring up in front of his fukutaichou just yet. But today of all days just had to be the day that she decided to actually do her work.
Figures.
Rereading the same passage for the umpteenth time, the frustrated captain leaned his head down on his free hand. Then pulled it away in shock. He stared down at the hand, wide-eyed and disbelieving. What had that been? His frustration now evolving into a serious curiosity, he lifted his fingers to his forehead once more, this time forcing himself to keep them in place for about five seconds. When he removed them they were bright red with blood rush.
His forehead was burning his fingers.
Hitsugaya was certainly stubborn, but he was not stupid. He knew when he was beaten. With a sigh, he set down the pen and stood up. Matsumoto watched him, one brow cocked in what might have been amusement. He frowned agitatedly at her before stepping out from behind the desk.
“Alright, alright. You win. I’m going,” he huffed rather hoarsely.
She smiled, laughing as she too got up and nearly bounced over to her captain, laying a hand on his shoulder. “You see? That wasn’t so hard, was it, Taichou? Taichou?”
But Hitsugaya didn’t respond. He couldn’t. The last thing he remembered was his knees collapsing beneath him just before he retched all over his lieutenant’s shihakushou.
~*~
The Tenth Division captain awoke to a world of nothingness. Literally. There were no walls, no ceilings, no floors, nothing at all. He didn’t even know what was holding him up. It was as if he were simply floating in air, but even air did not seem to exist in this place. Cautiously, the prodigy stood up, surveying his current situation. What to do when you wake up in a mysterious alternate dimension? Apparently he had skipped that class at the Academy....
He was forced from his sarcastic musings rather suddenly by a foreboding shift in the atmosphere. Alert and aggitated, he reached for Hyourinmaru but was stunned to realize the weapon wasn't there. There was nothing strapped to his back. Even the gentle hum that always alerted the boy to his zanpakutou’s presence had vanished.
He was truly alone. But not for long, he frowned.
The person responsible for the ominous shift was coming ever closer, and soon Hitsugaya could hear the soft, steady footsteps and make out the unsettling humanoid silhouette. The wretchedly familiar grin did nothing to assuage his growing fear, confusion, frustration, or rage, but a decade of posturing for the older captains was not about to fail him when he needed it most. The anxious captain watched stony faced as the man came within mere feet of him.
“Ichimaru,” he intoned, his voice a hard, scratchy growl.
Gin’s smirk only seemed to grow in malevolence even though he hadn’t moved a muscle. “Hitsugaya-kun. It’s been a long time, ne?”
“What do you want, Ichimaru?”
The man sighed in mock playfulness. “Really. There’s no need ta be so cold. We’re old friends, after all.”
It took everything Hitsugaya had not to strangle him right then and there. “Answer me.”
“Entertainment.”
Now that threw the boy off completely. He didn’t know what exactly he had been expecting, but he was absolutely sure that this wasn’t it. Entertainment? Entertainment?! Hitsugaya glared into those forever squinting eyes, just daring Ichimaru to continue.
He obliged. “You’da thought what with all those ryoka chargin’ in head first, things would’a been more interestin'. But it seems the Espada’s got everythin’ covered. That leaves me ‘n Tousen with nothin’ to do, so I thought I’d send off a few presents fer my favorite little taichou.”
Hitsugaya couldn’t believe the words that were spewing from the former Third Division leader’s perpetual smirk. The hollows had been sent solely to get at him? What the hell was he trying to say? Ichimaru’s goal was to play a game with him? What nonsense was that?! It made no sense! None at all! It was...
Hitsugaya bit down on his bottom lip. Hard.
It was just the sort of thing Ichimaru would do.
“Well, if you’re done with your stupid games, I’m leaving,” Hitsugaya hissed, not trusting himself to open his mouth too wide for fear of completely losing the discipline he had worked so hard to drill into himself all these years.
“But the game hasn’ even started yet, little taichou.”
He had known this was coming, had known that somehow, someway, it was destined to come to this, but still, Hitsugaya felt he was suffocating. The few options he had left were all crumbling down around his feet. He could no longer pretend, no longer delude himself or avoid the subject. It was here to stay, and he had no choice but to stand here and discover the consequences of his carelessness. The arrancar. The scorpion tail zanpakutou release. The strange wound on his back.
“Poison.”
Ichimaru Gin’s eyes opened just a fraction, his childish grin widening. “Yup.”
“Get on with it then.” The coldness with which he spoke the words would have sent goose bumps spiraling up any lesser man’s neck, but despite what many people thought of him, Gin was no lesser man.
“If ya insist. It does two things. First, it leaches off’a yer reiatsu. You’ve prolly noticed that by now, ne? An’ second, it stimulates yer body’s pain receptors.” Hitsugaya did not like the sound of that at all but did his best to keep up his poker face, fists clenching and unclenching systematically as he listened. “Basically, yer body feels like it’s dyin’ when it’s not. And when it gets too bad... Boom." The man unfurled his hands in a sick mockery of an explosion. "Yer brain shuts down. No more shinigami.”
“So you’re going to sit back and watch me die.” Hitsugaya was very aware of Hyourinmaru’s absence. He could feel it in every word he spoke, every movement he made. But he would not show it. Never. Not in front of this man.
“Naw. What kinda game would it be if we already knew who’d win?”
“And how is it possible for me to win in such a situation?”
“Well, if ya stay in Soul Society, you’ll only have abou’ three days at most, but if ya go down ta the livin’ world, you’ll have up t’a month or two ‘cos of the differences between ‘em.”
“A month or two. Thirty to sixty days. To identify the poison and create an anti-toxin, right?” Though Hitsugaya phrased the sentence as a question, both present knew it needed no answer. “That would be no hard task for Kurotsuchi-taichou or Unohana-taichou. There must be more to it than that.” One who didn’t know Hitsugaya may have interpreted this statement as acceptance. It was far from it. He was challenging the man before him.
Apparently this pleased him because his smirk widened once again. “It’s untraceable ‘til the very end, so even if they believe ya, they won’ be able ta help ya. And without evidence, none a’them can go ta the livin’ world with ya anyway. But at least when they take a look at yer corpse, they’ll realize you weren’ insane after all.”
“And all of this... because you have a little excess of free time?” The incredulity of the accusation was masked by the seriousness with which the white crowned boy voiced it.
“Ara, ara. It’s a game, remember? Have fun.”
~*~
“Taichou? Taichou? If I told you I wasn’t wearing a bra, would you wake up then?”
Oh, hell. He had left one insane world only to return to another.
“Shut up, Matsumoto,” he croaked as he reached a hand up to his head. It didn’t feel quite as heated as before, but it was still feverish. That meant he still had at least some time left. He would have to figure out the best way to use that time....
“Hey now! You barf all over me, pass out, make me carry you all the way to Fourth Division, and then tell me to shut up?! You really are the meanest, cruelest, slave-driving-est captain in all of Seireitei! Why I oughta...”
Trying hard to disregard the fact that Matsumoto had carried him here, he tuned out her ranting and took a moment to get a hold of his bearings. He was in one of Fourth Division's private rooms often reserved for higher ranking patients. No one else was in the room with him besides his lieutenant. His frown deepened, keen eyes watching as she paced frustratedly back and forth, fuming away to her heart’s content.
Years of dealing with his lieutenant had done more than just emotionally scar him. He had learned more about her in the short time since he had been promoted than he had learned about anyone else in all of Soul Society, including Hinamori. He pulled himself sorely into a sitting position, taking in her expression. She was pouting as she ranted, her arms stretched across her chest, pushing up her nearly exposed breasts (a gesture, he had come to believe, she perpetrated entirely for that very effect). Her eyebrows were furrowed viciously, her cheeks flushed. She looked positively irate. But her eyes fluttered about the room, never really looking directly into his own.
She looked people in the eye when she was mad at them. It was the people she really cared about that she couldn’t meet face to face.
She was worried about him.
“Matsumoto...” he managed barely above a whisper.
She immediately ceased her verbal tirade. “Yes, Taichou?”
She was worried about him.
“I told you to shut up.”
He could not have that. Not right now.
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.
Author's Note: Updated 8/10/2011.
~*~
“Wastes of Lives-resown with Colors
By Succeeding Springs-
Death-unto itself-Exception-
Is exempt from Change-”
-Emily Dickinson
~*~
Chapter Three
Interrupt Homeostasis
~*~
Hitsugaya did not question the fact that no hollows intruded upon him after his final bout had ended. It was obvious that the arrancar, especially the male one, had been controlling them from the start. If he had been able to defeat the woman, then surely Zaraki had defeated the other by now.
The boy forced himself to stand up once again, shaking that last image of the arrancar from his mind. It would not do to dwell on the psychology of the insane. It would only serve to worsen his steadily increasing headache.
Zaraki seemed to have calmed down for the most part. He didn’t have to concentrate quite so hard to locate his companions this time around anyway. Kusajishi was still planted on her surrogate father’s backside, rather more like a convenient outgrowth than a lieutenant in Hitsugaya’s opinion. Those two hadn’t strayed far from where they had encountered the arrancar originally. Matsumoto, on the other hand, was hastily making her way in this direction from quite a ways to his left.
He felt rather than saw her crash down into the foliage beside him. It wasn’t a very graceful landing, but he wasn’t exactly one to talk at the moment.
“Taichou!” she called as she strode the last few meters between them.
He looked up at her for a moment before turning away irritably. Getting stabbed in the back sometimes did that to a person. Not that he’d ever admit to succumbing. “I dealt with it. Zaraki must have defeated the second one by now.” His frown deepened slightly at his wording. So she was back to an it then. He supposed it was just easier that way.
Matsumoto nodded. Just once. Then she froze.
This earned her a questioning glare from her captain as he slowly turned to face her once again. “What?” he asked impatiently.
“Taichou! Your back!”
“What about it?” he hissed.
Hitsugaya watched contemptfully as Matsumoto opened her mouth to reply, but before anything more could actually be said, they were interrupted by a far more trying voice. He would have rather argued hours with Matsumoto than have to deal with her at the moment. Unfortunately, life had a bad habit of ignoring his preferences.
“Ookii Ookii!” came the high-pitched shout as Zaraki Kenpachi stepped into sight, and Yachiru jumped off his wide shoulders in order to latch herself around Matsumoto’s waste. “You guys were gone so long, an' I didn’t get to see you when you got back! Yachiru missed you!”
“I-I missed you too, Yachiru-chan, but right now I’m trying-”
“Woah! What happened to Bitty-taichou?!”
Hitsugaya tried his best not to show his annoyance. He had hoped that Kusajishi would at least distract Matsumoto long enough for him to cover the wound, but now there was absolutely no chance of that. Well, he might as well make the best of the situation; he was stuck with it now. He’d just have to make sure that he didn't flinch, especially with Zaraki around, and find out what had them so irrationally interested in a little gash.
“It’s just a stab wound. I don’t see why you’re making such a fuss over it,” he grumbled to Matsumoto.
“That was a stab wound?” his fukutaichou spat back. He had to admit the look of utter disbelief on her face had him interested now.
“It’s so weird!” Yachiru suddenly called out from behind him. He whirled around to face her, frowning. “It’s all black and funny! And there’s not even a drop of blood!”
Was that... disappointment in her voice? Hitsugaya pushed the thought aside. Frankly, he didn’t want to know. He had heard enough about his wound for now and did not want anyone prying any further. Prying may lead to questions which may lead to answers that he wasn’t ready to give yet. Once he was safely situated between the other Gotei 13 captains and their direct subordinates, looking anywhere except at his own lieutenant, he would be able to relay the information he had learned, but he would not - could not - do it now. He could not say it if he had to see her expression.
Ichimaru...
“Poke!”
Hitsugaya’s world was flipped upside down and inside out as he was forced from his thoughts into a reality of blinding, ear-splitting pain shooting up his unsuspecting spinal column. He just managed to halt any exclamation that may have jumped unbidden from his lips by twisting jerkily around and leaping backward, away from the small, disastrously curious lieutenant. Wincing as he did so, he stood up to his full height once more, glaring Yachiru into the ground.
So much for not flinching...
“Never do that again,” he hissed through tightly clenched teeth.
Either constant exposure to Zaraki’s killing intent had given her complete immunity or she had interpreted Hitsugaya’s homicidal blood lust as something else entirely because not a second after she received his infamous death glare she giggled and jumped back up onto her captain’s back, clinging to his haori blissfully. “Ken-chan! I found Bitty-taichou’s angry button!” she cheered happily as Zaraki sent the younger boy a demeaning smirk.
Hitsugaya did his best to ignore the duo as he once again donned his haori, covering up the strange wound in a silent but obvious demand that the subject be closed. Apparently no one was listening to his demands today, spoken or unspoken.
“Taichou...” he heard Matsumoto’s concerned tone trail off as she approached him once more.
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not. But...” Her voice had changed from concerned to stern over the course of only three words, and now it was becoming disturbingly playful. “I’m sure it’s nothing that a looong, relaaaxing night of keeping ourselves warm under the kotatsu in loving embrace wouldn’t fix.”
Hitsugaya felt his whole face rise dramatically in temperature and hastily turned away. “Fine. I’ll visit the Fourth Division. After I file the report for this mission,” he acquiesced, suddenly very interested in a rotting tree that just happened by pure coincidence to be sitting in the exact opposite direction of Matsumoto’s grinning face.
~*~
The walk back was uneventful for the most part. The brat and Rangiku had muttered to each other a bit every now and then, and Yachiru had peeked over his shoulder a few times to point out the scenery, but otherwise it was quiet. Kenpachi didn’t mind though. It wasn’t as if he had much to say.
The arrancar had been disappointing. He had expected something a little more challenging. Then again, ever since his battle (because it was much more than just a fight) with Kurosaki Ichigo even the strongest of opponents had seemed only average. Oh well, he’d just have to wait for these Espada to show their cowardly faces. Then he’d finally get a thrill.
Speaking of thrills, the burly captain turned his head and looked down his shoulder to better see his equal in rank (if slightly lacking in the category of stature). The Tenth Division leader was a fairly interesting guy, Kenpachi had to admit, but he was also far too uptight and prudent for Kenpachi’s tastes.
Usually the kid was very particular about the amount of energy he’d reveal to any given person. In fact, his intense discipline in that area was downright secretive. He held in every ounce of pressure he could muster until a situation came that made its release absolutely necessary. But right now, Kenpachi could sense a steady flow easing from the boy’s body. It wasn't quite enough reiatsu to filter for emotion or motivation, but it was certainly enough to notice. The battle-worn warrior grinned as he turned away.
Maybe the little punk was finally starting to lighten up a bit.
~*~
Hitsugaya stared angrily down at his pen. He wanted to break it in half. He wanted to toss it in a shredder. He wanted to freeze it, then watch it shatter into a million useless pieces.
This, he knew, was what Matsumoto often referred to as “misplaced aggression.” According to his lieutenant, she was his usual target, but today she was a part of what was frustrating him and so the brunt of the blow fell upon his brand new ballpoint pen.
For the first time in decades, Hitsugaya could not concentrate on his work. There were just far too many distractions floating this way and that inside his above-average mind for him to focus on a report chronicling the lack of high quality perfume within Seireitei, submitted by the ever-vigilant Shinigami Women’s Association earlier that morning. Not only did he have a splitting migraine, but he was having serious problems controlling his reiryoku. He hadn’t really noticed it until Zaraki had made a snide joke on the matter, something about testosterone or the like. Hitsugaya hadn’t found it funny. But if even someone like Zaraki who was utterly ill-versed and uninterested in sensing reiatsu was able to see the difference, then that meant there was definitely something wrong. And it also meant that nearly everyone else had to have noticed by now as well.
Then, of course, there was the issue of Ichimaru Gin, the reason Hitsugaya had yet to give in to Matsumoto and visit the Fourth Division. He knew he would have to go eventually, but he had been waiting for her to settle down into her regularly scheduled nap on the couch in the center of his office before he did so. He had an inkling Unohana-taichou would want answers that he didn’t wish to bring up in front of his fukutaichou just yet. But today of all days just had to be the day that she decided to actually do her work.
Figures.
Rereading the same passage for the umpteenth time, the frustrated captain leaned his head down on his free hand. Then pulled it away in shock. He stared down at the hand, wide-eyed and disbelieving. What had that been? His frustration now evolving into a serious curiosity, he lifted his fingers to his forehead once more, this time forcing himself to keep them in place for about five seconds. When he removed them they were bright red with blood rush.
His forehead was burning his fingers.
Hitsugaya was certainly stubborn, but he was not stupid. He knew when he was beaten. With a sigh, he set down the pen and stood up. Matsumoto watched him, one brow cocked in what might have been amusement. He frowned agitatedly at her before stepping out from behind the desk.
“Alright, alright. You win. I’m going,” he huffed rather hoarsely.
She smiled, laughing as she too got up and nearly bounced over to her captain, laying a hand on his shoulder. “You see? That wasn’t so hard, was it, Taichou? Taichou?”
But Hitsugaya didn’t respond. He couldn’t. The last thing he remembered was his knees collapsing beneath him just before he retched all over his lieutenant’s shihakushou.
~*~
The Tenth Division captain awoke to a world of nothingness. Literally. There were no walls, no ceilings, no floors, nothing at all. He didn’t even know what was holding him up. It was as if he were simply floating in air, but even air did not seem to exist in this place. Cautiously, the prodigy stood up, surveying his current situation. What to do when you wake up in a mysterious alternate dimension? Apparently he had skipped that class at the Academy....
He was forced from his sarcastic musings rather suddenly by a foreboding shift in the atmosphere. Alert and aggitated, he reached for Hyourinmaru but was stunned to realize the weapon wasn't there. There was nothing strapped to his back. Even the gentle hum that always alerted the boy to his zanpakutou’s presence had vanished.
He was truly alone. But not for long, he frowned.
The person responsible for the ominous shift was coming ever closer, and soon Hitsugaya could hear the soft, steady footsteps and make out the unsettling humanoid silhouette. The wretchedly familiar grin did nothing to assuage his growing fear, confusion, frustration, or rage, but a decade of posturing for the older captains was not about to fail him when he needed it most. The anxious captain watched stony faced as the man came within mere feet of him.
“Ichimaru,” he intoned, his voice a hard, scratchy growl.
Gin’s smirk only seemed to grow in malevolence even though he hadn’t moved a muscle. “Hitsugaya-kun. It’s been a long time, ne?”
“What do you want, Ichimaru?”
The man sighed in mock playfulness. “Really. There’s no need ta be so cold. We’re old friends, after all.”
It took everything Hitsugaya had not to strangle him right then and there. “Answer me.”
“Entertainment.”
Now that threw the boy off completely. He didn’t know what exactly he had been expecting, but he was absolutely sure that this wasn’t it. Entertainment? Entertainment?! Hitsugaya glared into those forever squinting eyes, just daring Ichimaru to continue.
He obliged. “You’da thought what with all those ryoka chargin’ in head first, things would’a been more interestin'. But it seems the Espada’s got everythin’ covered. That leaves me ‘n Tousen with nothin’ to do, so I thought I’d send off a few presents fer my favorite little taichou.”
Hitsugaya couldn’t believe the words that were spewing from the former Third Division leader’s perpetual smirk. The hollows had been sent solely to get at him? What the hell was he trying to say? Ichimaru’s goal was to play a game with him? What nonsense was that?! It made no sense! None at all! It was...
Hitsugaya bit down on his bottom lip. Hard.
It was just the sort of thing Ichimaru would do.
“Well, if you’re done with your stupid games, I’m leaving,” Hitsugaya hissed, not trusting himself to open his mouth too wide for fear of completely losing the discipline he had worked so hard to drill into himself all these years.
“But the game hasn’ even started yet, little taichou.”
He had known this was coming, had known that somehow, someway, it was destined to come to this, but still, Hitsugaya felt he was suffocating. The few options he had left were all crumbling down around his feet. He could no longer pretend, no longer delude himself or avoid the subject. It was here to stay, and he had no choice but to stand here and discover the consequences of his carelessness. The arrancar. The scorpion tail zanpakutou release. The strange wound on his back.
“Poison.”
Ichimaru Gin’s eyes opened just a fraction, his childish grin widening. “Yup.”
“Get on with it then.” The coldness with which he spoke the words would have sent goose bumps spiraling up any lesser man’s neck, but despite what many people thought of him, Gin was no lesser man.
“If ya insist. It does two things. First, it leaches off’a yer reiatsu. You’ve prolly noticed that by now, ne? An’ second, it stimulates yer body’s pain receptors.” Hitsugaya did not like the sound of that at all but did his best to keep up his poker face, fists clenching and unclenching systematically as he listened. “Basically, yer body feels like it’s dyin’ when it’s not. And when it gets too bad... Boom." The man unfurled his hands in a sick mockery of an explosion. "Yer brain shuts down. No more shinigami.”
“So you’re going to sit back and watch me die.” Hitsugaya was very aware of Hyourinmaru’s absence. He could feel it in every word he spoke, every movement he made. But he would not show it. Never. Not in front of this man.
“Naw. What kinda game would it be if we already knew who’d win?”
“And how is it possible for me to win in such a situation?”
“Well, if ya stay in Soul Society, you’ll only have abou’ three days at most, but if ya go down ta the livin’ world, you’ll have up t’a month or two ‘cos of the differences between ‘em.”
“A month or two. Thirty to sixty days. To identify the poison and create an anti-toxin, right?” Though Hitsugaya phrased the sentence as a question, both present knew it needed no answer. “That would be no hard task for Kurotsuchi-taichou or Unohana-taichou. There must be more to it than that.” One who didn’t know Hitsugaya may have interpreted this statement as acceptance. It was far from it. He was challenging the man before him.
Apparently this pleased him because his smirk widened once again. “It’s untraceable ‘til the very end, so even if they believe ya, they won’ be able ta help ya. And without evidence, none a’them can go ta the livin’ world with ya anyway. But at least when they take a look at yer corpse, they’ll realize you weren’ insane after all.”
“And all of this... because you have a little excess of free time?” The incredulity of the accusation was masked by the seriousness with which the white crowned boy voiced it.
“Ara, ara. It’s a game, remember? Have fun.”
~*~
“Taichou? Taichou? If I told you I wasn’t wearing a bra, would you wake up then?”
Oh, hell. He had left one insane world only to return to another.
“Shut up, Matsumoto,” he croaked as he reached a hand up to his head. It didn’t feel quite as heated as before, but it was still feverish. That meant he still had at least some time left. He would have to figure out the best way to use that time....
“Hey now! You barf all over me, pass out, make me carry you all the way to Fourth Division, and then tell me to shut up?! You really are the meanest, cruelest, slave-driving-est captain in all of Seireitei! Why I oughta...”
Trying hard to disregard the fact that Matsumoto had carried him here, he tuned out her ranting and took a moment to get a hold of his bearings. He was in one of Fourth Division's private rooms often reserved for higher ranking patients. No one else was in the room with him besides his lieutenant. His frown deepened, keen eyes watching as she paced frustratedly back and forth, fuming away to her heart’s content.
Years of dealing with his lieutenant had done more than just emotionally scar him. He had learned more about her in the short time since he had been promoted than he had learned about anyone else in all of Soul Society, including Hinamori. He pulled himself sorely into a sitting position, taking in her expression. She was pouting as she ranted, her arms stretched across her chest, pushing up her nearly exposed breasts (a gesture, he had come to believe, she perpetrated entirely for that very effect). Her eyebrows were furrowed viciously, her cheeks flushed. She looked positively irate. But her eyes fluttered about the room, never really looking directly into his own.
She looked people in the eye when she was mad at them. It was the people she really cared about that she couldn’t meet face to face.
She was worried about him.
“Matsumoto...” he managed barely above a whisper.
She immediately ceased her verbal tirade. “Yes, Taichou?”
She was worried about him.
“I told you to shut up.”
He could not have that. Not right now.