Well hello everyone, 7ShadowsUnleashed is back from the brink with a new story [and long-overdue new chapters for her other stories]. She just wants to say that she has sat on this story for a very long time, but someone finally gave her the nudges necessary for it to wind up here. She hopes that you enjoy and don't forget to leave a review on the way out.

Dedicated to: akafyi [who pushed me into posting this]

Æ

Toshiro Hitsugaya pushed his chair away from his desk. The moon was well into its arcing journey across the sky but the thick stacks of documents and the like still dominated his desk.

"No Motsumoto today," he remarked, peering between the tall paper columns in an attempt to see the couch his lieutenant had claimed as her personal napping spot. The relic, leftover from the former Squad Ten captain, may he rest eternal, resembled a pile yellowish of fabric dropped roughly onto a wooden frame, stepped on and left to slowly decompose into the tatami-mat floors. Besides its wretched appearance, the couch was dreadfully uncomfortable: in some places the fabric sagged until you swore you were sitting on the floor while others resembled a rock in all but colour. The couch was an all-together uncomfortable creation unless you were sitting on that suspicious grey stain that covered half of the left side.

Another reason to toss that couch, the small silver-haired captain thought. I'll be taking care of that as soon as I can … if I can ever pry it away from Matsumoto's clingy hands. Anyone who could take the couch from the dangerous lieutenant would qualify for hero status in the young captain's mind.

The couch was one among many reasons for Toshiro to question Matsumoto's sanity.

Finally finding a minuscule sight-line between the teetering papers, Toshiro had a full view of the empty couch.

No Matsumoto? It figures that whenever there's work to be done, she's strangely absent … he mused.

Curling his hand tightly around his pen, Toshiro attempted to work, filling each form with letters and numbers, but his handwriting was losing legibility. Soon he would call it quits for the night.

What time is it? It has to be after twenty-two … he thought, glancing at the silver moon. Where is Matsumoto? I didn't hear her come back after lunch and it is well past reasonable time to practice.

He stood, hands planted firmly on the desk for support. It can wait until morning.

The squad ten captain was a workaholic, and even the most disconnected soul reaper knew it, though Toshiro himself would never admit such atrocity. That being said, the teetering paper pillars were a bit much, even for him. What would create so much work for the captain?

The fact was that an unknown party had recently begun slaughtering soul reapers. The forms the silver-haired captain sat with in under the full moon were death notices.

The assassins struck at night with inherent stealth expected of their kind, their victims found lying on the blood-soaked tatami floor mats in their barrack-turned-tomb, faces turned up towards the ceiling and eyes opened in what would be their final drowsy glimpse at the word before whatever manner of death claimed them.

What had stopped the rumours of a rogue hollow or Arrancar was the cause of death: after the first victim was dispatched with a swift cut across the neck, rogue hollows were ruled out. The clumsy beasts lacked the delicacy and precision to make the cuts, which were at odds with the messy techniques seen in most hollow-soul reaper battles. The second and third victims were strangled with cruel precision and a tightly-woven length of string. Knives did not reappear until the fourth night to deliver the final blow to a strangled victim. It was the first time two weapons were used simultaneously and with it came a unanimous decision among the Thirteen Court Guard Squads: multiple organised killers prowled the Soul Society, taking a soul reaper each night.

So far, the victims were lower-ranking soul reapers, none of whom possessed bankai-level power. The victims were killed late, generally close to or past midnight. Not that Toshiro cared: he planned to be in bed long before the murderers struck. If he had to, he would not sleep until he could look the assassins in the eyes and there was nothing they could do to stop him.

I dare them to try something, he thought, one hand on Hyonrinmaru's hilt. I dare them to try to harm my division.

He checked that the windows and blinds were closed before crossing the room, sparing a last glance to the couch to confirm that Matsumoto hadn't fallen asleep and rolled onto the floor while he was trying to finish the still-incomplete documents. Standing in the threshold, he surveyed his office. It looked wrong with the massive stacks of paper hoarding desk and floor space. He had been hitting them hard for hours, filling in the dates, approximate times-of-death, details, and times the victim's belongings would be released to their families, and now he was sick of the grim details.

Blood on the walls … Handprints … Zanpakutō partially drawn ...

With the blinds down, the wooden walls and bookshelves encroached in on the little office. Overcome with a bout of claustrophobia, Toshiro turned away.

It's not my office, a part of him cried.

Another chastised him. You'll live. It's just a temporary measure until the killers are caught.

Doesn't make it any less of a headache.

A dragon rumbled softly, blowing Toshiro's hair back with its cold breath.

Sleep now, little one, all will be well.

Toshiro was tempted to tell the bickering sides to shut up, but knew it would only make them louder. He had tried to chase away memories enough times to know that they only came back stronger every time they were chased down. The best thing to do was to let them thrash about his mind until they were too exhausted to continue. He listened to them debate as he pulled off his captain's haori, folding it and placing it on top his dresser. He thought about changing into different robes, but cold wind blowing through a crack in the wall stopped him. He curled up under his blankets, slipper-shod feet tucked into his pant legs as a provision against the encroaching cold.

.:.

"So that's a captain? I'd say he looks a bit like you, Windshadow."

The girl turned. Her fluffy hair, black at the tips but white elsewhere, fell over her glowing green eyes, forcing her to push it back with one hand as she steadied herself on the branch below her feet with the other. Her hair was cut long but choppy, like a short person with scissors had jumped to reach it, snipping when possible.

"I suppose only beautiful things are allowed to come twice," she mused. "That is nature's way, after all. I suppose it is fitting that we see no one resembling you, Leafshard."

Leafshard leaped forward and grabbed the small girl by the shoulder. Turning her to face him, he growled, "I can see why you always work alone." Softening his tone, he continued on. "I'm working with you only because they told me to. I could easily manage this job with my team …"

"You would be caught and your team sentenced to death. Last night would have been your last if not for me" Windshadow whispered. Pausing to turn and watch the silver-haired captain through the window, she asked, "Is he next?"

Leafshard fingered a piece of his long, smoky grey and black patched hair. "I can't say I've decided yet."

"Aren't we indecisive?" Windshadow leaned against a tree, looking back at her comrade where he stood on the roof of a neighbouring house. "Well, choose quickly before the team gets here and life gets hectic."

Leafshard smiled, the tip of his tongue flicking between barbed teeth. "I just chose."

Æ

Well, how was it? I know the cliffhanger is pretty cruel, but that was where I decided to cut off the chapter. There are ten or so more pages in Microsoft, but those are for later, when I come back to update.

Now, I would just like to say a few words, with the first and foremost being a "thank you" to you for reading this. I don't care whether you praise me or throw fire and knives my way, but I do care what you have to say. Please tell me what you think: it helps me write better and faster, and I read and reply to every review I receive.

Well, that is everything I have for now, but there is more to come. I promise. I know I am not the most reliable updater around [massive understatement], but that is one of the perks of being fifteen years old: the time I have has to go everywhere, first and foremost to school, then to this. I promise to be more reliable in the future, though, so do not worry: I believe we are done with the annoying month-long waits.

Again, thank you for reading and do not forget to review!

Really, it helps me write more for you.

- 7ShadowsUnleashed