Title: Moment to Fight
Summary: Just because the Quincy can take their bankai doesn't mean they can use it.
Notes: Because I am sick of everyone needing Ichigo to save the day. I mean how did Seireitei manage to survive who knows how many invasions/threats/parties before him? Also, because I am a slave to my whimsy.
Warning: Spoilers up to chapter 502
Word count: 600+
Disclaimer: No, just no
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Sometimes, battles are what they are—based on luck.
It has nothing to do with your swordsmanship or proficiency with kidou. Much like the off chance of a captain coming across a lost soul in the division barracks or a twelfth seat cornered by a tangle of Hollows while on patrol, the tide of victory rides upon luck. Because sometimes, what they taught you at the Academy, what your body knows and what your bones tell you, is not enough.
When the sixth division captain's reiatsu vanishes from his reach, Hitsugaya lets out a short curse and orders Matsumoto away.
Predictably, his lieutenant refuses, doubting his skills against his own sword. Yet she forgets, being a captain means that he has mastered it, he knows it better than anyone else. He knows his strengths and weaknesses, the advantages of his child-like appearance and the flaws of unstable reishi like he knows that Kuchiki was unlucky in facing an opponent who knew how to wield Senbonzakura. But he also knows that Jakuho Raikoben is useless against Soi Fon's preternatural speed and Komamura's bankai possesses a fatal flaw in that it incurs damage upon the user whenever struck.
Matsumoto snaps to attention at the Quincy's wail, a pathetic thing, arrogant enough to think them weak with Kurosaki's attention turned. Fine veins stand out against his skin, the tips of his fingers icy blue and the medallion he holds in one hand turning hoary white from the center.
Hitsugaya swallows.
"Get everyone to clear the area within four kilometers. Five is better. If you must, you can go help to buffer the barrier."
Hyourinmaru is waking, a shaft of blue shooting through the medallion like a bolt of lightning frozen in air. The Quincy's arm explodes, held together by lotus blossoms more beautiful than the summer sun. The spot of blood on his sleeves quickly turn to frost. Matsumoto lets out an involuntary squeak and Hitsugaya reminds her slowly, calmly, methodically, what it means to be a captain of the Gotei 13.
A dragon drops his coils around the Quincy, his red eyes considering as he devours him inside out. The Quincy never even has the chance to scream.
Hyourinmaru tosses his sea-green mane, growling low down his belly as the cloud churn overhead.
In their greed, their enemies thought they could wield a bankai stolen from a captain's hand and the invasion is over before it has even begun. Hitsugaya knows it won't be long before the others will follow because the Quincys underestimated them when they took their swords away.
The zanpakuto aren't objects, bolts of steel separate from their souls. The zanpakuto are them, their selves, personality solidified into something so feared that the Quincy sought to turn them against their masters.
But it doesn't work like that and he was lucky, incredibly lucky that Hyourinmaru was his. There hasn't been a person who could touch the hilt without getting frostbite much less use it against him.
He closes his eyes and he can see several divisions erecting barriers to starve off the storm. Whatever happens, they must not let it bleed through the walls wrapped around Seireitei.
Captain Hirako sneezes at a faceful of snow, Shirayuki, newly revived, tends to her master, Soi Fon presses the hornet's crest against the foolhardy Quincy's throat and Komamura dismembers his own bankai.
There is a subtle sigh on Hyourinmaru's tongue as he tears off the Quincy's head.
His zanpakuto stands before him, magnificent as always, the four points of the lotus crumbling into diamond shards on the wind.
Luck, Hitsugaya thinks as the icy talons weave past his ear.
"Will you fight with me?" The dragon rumbles, the wind swirling around them in a circle with murder in his eyes that cannot be washed away.
"Of course."
Matsumoto flees.