So I've never managed to finish this fic, although I wanted to before I publish the whole thing but sadly, I've lost the inspiration. Hope you'll still enjoy what was written of it! Please give it a try, I still want to know what people think of my writing.

A small Prologue, but chapters will get a bit longer.

Hot.

He woke up suffocating and as he jostled to try and take air in, the first thing that occurred to him that it was unbearably hot and his body was drenched with sweat. His breathes were slow and shallow, probably not taking as much oxygen particles as his body demands it to even with the unusual neck muscles he was using to help take as much air in. His whole form felt too sluggish, limbs too weak, as if he was put into a limp, helpless rag doll. He barely managed to move and lift himself up with his floppy arms, struggling with a great difficulty until he was up enough that when he let go, his back fell into the headboard behind him, resting his back to it as he realized that he just used the last ounce of strength that he had. He tried to open his eyelids, they felt as heavy as lead, but he thought he could do it and he did.

Although his head was lolling a little to his shoulder, the headboard still kept him right and his line of sight was almost as good. His vision was still blurry and unfocused, but there was an unusual amber blaze he could make out there, in the right far corner, opposite the bed he was on.

What was that?

He blinked once, then again for a couple of times to clear the blurr and it seemed to work. Only for his weak breathing to stop and air to hitche within his throat.

What's happening? Is he still asleep, dreaming, or is he going crazy? He hoped that it was the former, and that he was going to wake up any moment now of this dream- no, nightmare and soon He'll be going through his usual day with paperwork, scolding a lazy subordinate or two and fetching out sake bottles hidden within the office.

But no, this seemed too real, felt too real to be a mere dream. He could tell, He always did.

That was the source of the heat, He concluded, all in its brilliant, fiery glory right in front of him. Now he'd noticed it, he could hear soft crackles coming from it, and throughout all the burning hell and suffocation he's fighting against with all he had, the soft little crackles were actually soothing, relaxing, it could have soothed him into the deep slumber again... probably killing him afterwards... almost...

If it weren't for the fact that it's hungrily consuming a real man in its depths.

Fire was surrounding him completely, but nothing of the area around him seemed to be effected. It's all in him, around him, inside of him and through his skin and pores as he's emitting this fire himself but gotten hurt and burned in the process. The poor man sat balled around himself, his mouth wide open, face twisted in complete agony, but he isn't really screaming. But Toushiro didn't need to hear screams to know he's suffering.

He wanted, needed to help him! so bad. He could've easily countered that burning fire with his icy water, or just bury his blade to his heart and take him out of his misery, killing him but sparing him any more pain. So He tried, knowing that he didn't even have the energy to move an inch, but he tried anyway and closed his eyes so he could concentrate to summon whatever spiritual particles he still had. But nothing happened though. He couldn't control his powers- actually it wouldn't have been a problem for such a situation since losing control meant to freeze everything around him, that would've put the fire out- but he didn't have any to control in the first place.. Where's his powers? He didn't have them, he couldn't summon a single snowflake, and for the life of him he could never reach his blade wherever it is, nevertheless reach the burning man and stab him..

Or even reach out to seek help...

...Where's Matsumoto? Where is she when he needed her the most? It made him feel weak to think like that, to want to seek help from others like that, it's something he just never did, but he'd never felt so helpless, so hopeless before and so.. so scared. He wasn't in his right mind either but if it meant saving that poor soul from its agony, He'd do anything.

Except that in reality, he can't do anything.

He opened his eyes again and looked aroud, pupils darting from side to side, anywhere and everywhere but the man in front. Pulse beating loudly in his ears, light tremors shook his sweated body and breaths were labored yet too shallow. His head slid slightly down the headboard and that when he realized that his consciousness started to slip away as the air felt so much thicker, if possible, and with this he jostled on his bed again as an idea struck his mind as a last resort, however little chances it got to work, and opened his mouth to shout, to actually scream for help if that man couldn't have the ability to, but nothing came out but weak moans and whimpers.

How pathetic.

He closed his eyes as his vision became too blurry to see, the exhaustion and lack of oxygen taking their toll on him and the moist accumulating weren't helping. He tried to regain his composure, trying to deep breath and just think. Think! Dammit! Maybe if he could concentrate enough he could reach Hyourimaru and-

Hyourinmaru.. how could he forget...

'I'm here.. Little one.'

'...Hyourinmaru?'

'Open your eyes.'

And for the last time that night, he did.