Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or its characters.
O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o Rain
They stood together under the rain. It had not rained this hard in months. Now, it seemed to Toshiro like the very ocean was collapsing on them. Onii-san held the umbrella above him, despite Toshiro's arguing that he would be soaked. By the time Toshiro had finished his sentence, Onii-san argued that he was already soaked.
It was true; Onii-chan's suit was soaked and his black hair clung to his face. Toshiro stood under the umbrella at the bus stop and waited, wondered why he had forgotten his own umbrella at home. The bus never came. He and Onii-chan waited for nearly an hour before Onii-chan sighed and took Toshiro's hand. Toshiro looked up at his older brother's green eyes, then down at the dripping wet hand closed over his own. Of all the days for their bus to just not come, it had to be on the wettest day of the year.
So, they walked. Toshiro shouldered his school bag and kept his head down. "What did you learn in school, Shiro-chan?" Onii-san asked. Toshiro strained to pick up his brother's soft voice above the rain, smiled when he heard the question. "We did division today. It was easy." He bragged. They stopped at a crosswalk, peering at both sides of the road. He thought of asking Onii-chan about work, changed his mind when he remembered how late Onii-chan had come home yesterday. "Will mommy and daddy come home soon?" He asked, watching his brother's face. He was getting old enough to see what lay behind people's eyes, becoming adept at getting people to say what they thought.
He saw enough of a flash to know the answer was no. But instead, Onii-chan squeezed his hand, "Maybe." They crossed the street. It was as Onii-chan was dragging Toshiro across the road that he saw the light. Toshiro was caught between yelling at his brother and running. It was their bus, late and coming home. Then, all he saw was white.
There was the scent of blood. Copper and salty, it mixed with a dozen other scents on the breeze. A pleasant morning in the Soul Society ruined by filthy Arrancar. Toshiro grit his teeth, bringing himself out of the daydream. They had been getting more frequent and vivid since they had received the news that the Arrancar were coming to the Soul Society. Toshiro had attributed it to stress and an upcoming battle. Matsumoto had unhelpfully called it him finally snapping. He had considered, briefly, if anyone would notice if he disposed of her.
Now, they were here. Toshiro grit his teeth, leading his squad to the set of Arrancar they were to fight. By whatever math his informants had told him he would be battling the fourth Espada of Aizen's army. He longed to fight Aizen himself, resigned the thought with the knowledge that this was his role. Another vision hit him, forcing him to stop. Not now, he thought as the colors blurred around him, not now, not now not now…
Now.
He was doing his homework. Pretending not to notice the hole in his world where his parents had once been. Pretending not to notice that Onii-chan had given him a new address and that they now lived on a different part of town and that grandma's house still had one of his books. The door opened, and then shut again. Toshiro kept his head down, scribbling numbers onto the lines. Words into the gaps. The shadow fell across his room briefly, and then disappeared. He put his pen down, carefully pushed it into a perfectly straight line and slid off of his chair. Onii-chan was in the kitchen, slicing watermelon. Toshiro tried to still be angry at him, still keep his face in a frown. Onii-chan looked at him, and his face was blurred. There were no features, no eyes or even hair. Toshiro frowned, because that wasn't right because his Onii-chan had –
It ended, as suddenly as it had begun. His squad was in complete disarray, and he set to barking orders, organizing the shinigami under his care. His squad. The first blood was spilled just to his right. His third seat was there one moment, then a slumped bleeding figure the next. He changed tactics to deal with this, bunching the shinigami and placing himself at the fore. Something wasn't right. There was supposed to be underlings, other hollows or Arrancar that they would have to deal with to defeat one of Aizen's pawns.
Toshiro watched, carefully, as one of his fellow shinigami fell without as much as a sound. Then he struck. Steel against steel set the first notes of battle. He narrowed his eyes at the Arrancar, knew that he needed to lead it away from the others before the newbies got hurt or killed in the fray and flash-stepped backwards. Air whizzed near his ear, telling him that his throat would have been slit if he had been just milliseconds slower.
This Arrancar knew his zanpakto and would not hesitate. Toshiro braced himself, because he needed to kill it before others were killed. He avoided another attack, seeing a strand of hair falling this time. He twisted, catching his sword on his opponents and faltered. The eyes, though utterly intent on shearing him in half, brought on another attack. His muscles locked out of instinct, and he saw a face echoing in his mind. He cursed, willing life back to his limbs and countering the neat slash that was meant to take off his head. "You are…younger than expected." The thing said, and Toshiro was sure a vein popped somewhere in his head. He pressed a hand to his cheek, felt the blood there.
It was a shallow cut. He met the eyes of the Arrancar. "Reign over the frosted heavens, Hyourinmaru!" His shikai activated, he launched himself at the Arrancar, testing again. And again. And again. They clashed, Toshiro noting with some annoyance that the marks he made on the Arrancar disappeared nearly immediately. So fast he would have missed it if he did not pay attention. He dropped back, conserving his strength, aiming for vital points.
They were matched almost evenly. The difference was that Toshiro's wounds stayed.
They spoke at the same time:
"Bankai"
"Imprison,"
Neither made an attempt to hide their reiatsu. Neither held back. Neither showed mercy as the world seemed to quake. Toshiro was aware, vaguely, that it only seemed that way because almost all of the captains were fighting powerful Arrancar. His winning move was made when one of the districts began to cheer. His opponent paused, flinched as though he himself had received a blow. It was only seconds. Toshiro only needed seconds. It was a cut to an artery, the heart pushing out the body's precious blood. Toshiro stood stone faced above the thing, blade to its throat. Its face was resigned, possibly annoyed.
The attack hit without warning.
It was Saturday. Toshiro knew because he was sleepy and it was hot and he needed to tell Onii-chan to buy more popsicles. Preferably watermelon flavored. He stood up, yawned, and looked out the window. Still no sign of Onii-chan. The front door opened, and Onii-chan came in, holding the box of the coveted popsicles awkwardly. Toshiro ran up, grinning and already reaching out to take the treat.
Toshiro knew that face. He knew it now, but not as he had known it then. "Thank you Ulquiorra-san."
His world was shattered. The Arrancar was still looking up at him, almost bored looking, and Toshiro had the feeling of dozens of spiders beneath his skin. "End it, shinigami." Those words, that voice, nothing matched the flood of memories pouring behind his eyes. He stood, shaking, and swore softly, sinking his blade instead into the Arrancar's arm and wrapping the wound he created with a strip of cloth from his uniform.
Something glinted behind its eyes, something that told Toshiro perhaps he should have thought it out. Cold fingers were around his throat, lifting him from the ground. He stared down the Arrancar, but there was a mild curiosity behind his eyes instead of that cold intent to kill. "You will regret the decision to spare my life." Toshiro would have answered, but he was finding it challenging enough to just breathe. He focused on the red stain blooming beneath the strip of cloth, on his own injuries that would need care. He looked around as best he could, found that they had cleared a considerable amount of land in their battle. His vision throbbed with spots of black, and the grip slackened some.
Then it tightened and his world was black.
Toshiro awoke in a cell of some sort. He was dressed in his hakama still, but his zanpakto was gone. There was a cart with a pitcher of water on it and a glass. Toshiro rubbed the back of his head and checked for any injuries that would need tending soon before they became infected. To his surprised they were all bandaged. "You are awake." Toshiro's head snapped around to the doorway and origin of the voice. The Arrancar – Toshiro was trying to refuse to call it by its name – was standing there. He noticed the wound on its neck was gone.
"Thank you for stating the obvious." He snapped, standing. "Try not to move too much. You will reopen your wounds, and Szayel most likely wants an intact specimen." Sounds like someone I know. Toshiro thought, scowling. This thing was not his brother. Not now, not ever. "When I see him I'll let him know what he can do, Ulquiorra." Toshiro said. From the corner of his eye he saw the Arrancar tense. But it disappeared quickly. "I don't recall telling my name to trash such as you." It said. Toshiro bit back a few choice words involving what he thought of its parents married state and where he could put his head.
Instead he shrugged. There was silence and Toshiro poured himself some water, trying to check to see if it was drugged. He felt no changes to his reiatsu or state of mind and his body certainly still worked. He paced, mostly. A prisoner. It irked him. He woke, sometimes, with new wounds and food came regularly. But as far as he could tell Ulquiorra was avoiding him.
The answer to the silence in his prison came a few long days later.
Toshiro woke bound, gagged, and tied to a table. His thoughts came in rapid succession.
Wow, this seems like something out of a cheap porn film.
Curse Rangiku.
Where am I?
What's going on?
Footsteps landed lightly near him.
Who's in here?
A voice, too familiar, spoke. "The others have not arrived yet after defeating your comrades." Toshiro would have mocked the Arrancar, if he was not gagged. "It seems that I am the first to return to Hueco Mundo after the fight."
"Oo Uck." Toshiro managed. It came out choked through the gag. Apparently, the Arrancar didn't hear. Or, at least pretended not to. "When Lord Aizen returns he will decide what to do with you. Until then, I will determine your fate." The words were cold, with no hint of emotion. Toshiro heard the gentle clink of glass, waited for whatever would come next. He was completely unprepared for the first incision. Small, shallow, and against the sensitive skin of his neck. He kept his body relaxed when a second incision was made close to the first, a little longer, a little deeper, a little more painful than the previous one. Four slices were made on his throat. He counted. Four were made on his chest, four more on the inside of his left arm. He gasped when there was a pause, and then sharp pain on his right arm.
Then it was numb. "I merely severed the tendon in your elbow, rendering it useless. I applied a paralytic to your lower body to restrict you from escaping." Ulquiorra said. Only now, when Toshiro tried to struggle did he realize he couldn't feel his legs at all. He fisted his left hand, mentally going over all the ways he would kill – and stopped, because the accursed memories of warm summer days and all-nighters for school work were eating away at him. It's not the same! He thought. There was a feather-light touch at the back of his head, and the blindfold was gone. He was back in the room, staring at his own bleeding body. His legs – he didn't recognize them. It looked as though they had been flayed and then put back together in one pulpy bleeding mess. Or maybe gone through a shredder. Either way, they didn't look good. He sat there, tried to drag himself across the room and failed, and was suddenly grateful for the paralytic that prevented him from feeling the many wounds over his body.
It took him most of the day, and well into Las Noches black night for him to heave himself onto the cell's couch, panting and feeling bits of sensation as feeling returned to his body. He hurt. He closed his eyes, thought of home and grandmother. Was immediately countered by his traitorous mind's memories of when he was alive. That thing is no longer my brother. He thought. It didn't help. He opened his eyes, tried to stay awake. He needed to keep watch, in case something occurred. Eventually, though, his eyes sank shut and he slipped into sleep.
It was cold outside. Toshiro was exited, because it had snowed the previous night and he had a day off. Onii-chan wasn't here, though, so he found himself pouting and watching TV. It was a blizzard and he didn't get to play in it or get any hot chocolate. It thrilled his childish mind to no end when Onii-chan came home early, promised to take him to the park.
No one else was out yet, and the snow was a wall of white still falling. Toshiro was excited, when they reached the park. Other kids weren't there, or had already left, and he didn't miss Onii-chan's sarcastic remark that no other kid in the neighborhood was stupid enough to play outside in a blizzard. Toshiro stuck his tongue out at his brother and set to making an army of snowmen to guard the park. In the end he had to recruit Onii-chan for the construction of his fort and bases.
Snow days were the best. Even after Toshiro was back in the apartment and under at least three blankets, he found himself longing to be back outside, back in the snow.
It was dark when Toshiro woke up again. He was covered in cold sweat and clean bandages. He cursed, rubbed away the sleep in his eyes. He had fallen asleep. He went to sit up, found his right arm still unresponsive and his legs sending dozens of signals to his brain. All of them were along the lines of Abort! Abort! He wondered why it was so dark outside, and saw the wide crack in the sky. He blinked at it through his window, and then realized what it was.
An illusion of sun and sky. Toshiro scowled at the darkness beyond. Hueco Mundo was a realm of darkness, where only the moon existed. It was strangely fitting, considering what lived in the deserts. The rough sound of stone on stone reached his ears. He turned, continued scowling when he saw the Arrancar at the threshold of the open door. "The canopy is disappearing." The words were flat and cold, as usual. "What is your purpose? Why keep me here?" Toshiro asked. He received no answer, instead watching the door shut as Ulquiorra walked in. "Your fate is not mine to decide. I have done what seems appropriate and now await orders from Aizen-sama. When he returns from the Soul Society you will have your answers."
Toshiro looked back outside the window. It seemed as though the crack had grown bigger since he looked away, but maybe that was his imagination. "So you crippled me." He said acidly. "Yes." Ulquiorra agreed. Toshiro looked back over, felt disgust rising in the back of his throat. But, instead of saying what he was going to, his traitorous mind had him say something else. "I'm bored, hungry, and bleeding again. Do something about it."
He felt a twinge of pleasure at the annoyance visible in Ulquiorra's eyes, but the Arrancar merely turned and exited the cell. Toshiro lay back on the pillow, wished he at least had Hyourinmaru for some conversation, and fell asleep.
When he woke the room smelled of antiseptic and…was that curry? Ulquiorra was standing right in front of him, and he jerked backwards. "I have found sustenance for you." Ulquiorra said blankly. Toshiro sat up, wincing at his still sore body. "What about my boredom?" He asked. There was that annoyance again, but the Espada turned, retrieving a Go board. "I will spend my time in your quarters to stimulate your mental powers." He said.
It sounded like a treatment to a horrible illness, coming from him. Toshiro scowled, ignored it, and pushed himself up as best he could. "Good. I'm starved." He said. The food was served, Toshiro awkwardly eating with his left hand. Then, Go board between them, they played. It was silent, no birds or rustling outside. Toshiro found it disturbing that any place could be so quiet. He chose white, the irony of the decision only hitting him later. "When do you think Aizen will be back?" He asked. "As soon as his business is concluded, Aizen-sama will return."
Toshiro rolled his eyes. Each moment spent in Ulquiorra's presence was revealing just how blindly devoted the Arrancar was. Think of him as an Arrancar. Toshiro thought after Ulquiorra was gone. He lay flat on the couch again, hoping the severed tendon in his arm would heal quickly. He slept again that night, hoping his sleep was dreamless. He had no such luck.
It was dark. Toshiro was huddled under the blankets in the room he and Onii-chan shared. Their parents weren't just yelling – they were screaming loud enough to make the neighbors around them thump on the walls. He slid out of bed, wished they were still at grandma's house. He crawled under the covers to where Onii-chan lay on his side. Toshiro knew him well enough to know he wasn't sleeping. He snuggled close to his brother, squeezed his eyes shut. Doors were being slammed, something glass shattered against a wall.
There was a single, loud bang and then it was quiet again. He heard his mother screeching, but that too was brief. Toshiro clung to Oni-chan until the sirens came and the people came and ushered the two of them out of the apartment. At the time, he had been too young to understand what was going on. He saw his mother, briefly, but she wouldn't look at him. He frowned at that. But he was sleepy and it was past his bedtime, anyway.
Curses. Toshiro cursed the dreams a hundred fold. He cursed that he was one of those who remembered being human. He cursed having the memories. He opened his eyes a crack and shut them. He opened them again to look at the figure standing at the foot of the couch. "Yammy, Aaroneiro, Szayel, Nnoitra, Hallibel, Baraggan, and Stark are dead. Slain by your comrades." Toshiro sat up, grimacing. Outside was completely dark now, the pale light of the moon shining down. "What time is it?" He asked, rubbing his eyes.
"It is well into the afternoon."
Toshiro paused. "It is always night here, shinigami." Toshiro scowled. "My name is Captain Toshiro Hitsugaya." He said. "I wonder, would Aizen-sama punish me for killing you to avenge the deaths of my comrades?" Ulquiorra said. Toshiro continued scowling, trying to move his right arm. It refused to cooperate, a dead weight on his shoulder. "They were weak, to be killed." Ulquiorra continued. Toshiro focused, but not even his fingers twitched. "Aizen-sama will return." Toshiro turned, looked at the Arrancar. "Some people don't return." Toshiro said. They glared at each other, silent. "There is sustenance for you in the room." Ulquiorra said, and was gone. Toshiro glared at the smooth wall where he had disappeared and looked around the room.
Sure enough, there was food on the far side of the room. Toshiro growled, checked his now freshly bandaged wounds and began the crawl. This time was more painful. He could feel every agonized cell as he went across the room. He reminded himself why he was doing this. Soon he would be healed. He needed to eat, to keep his strength up. He needed to find a way to stop thinking of the Arrancar as his brother. He needed to remind himself this was a soul eating monster.
Halfway to the low table his body gave out. He tried, honestly, to keep dragging himself forward. But the burning pain in his legs and his useless right arm dragging against the floor slowed him down, sapped his strength away. He laid there, cheek pressed against the cool floor and looking up at the meal he had come so close to. He wasn't sure when his breathing evened out, but suddenly he was tired, too tired to try and struggle with the world any longer.
Toshiro was angry. He couldn't remember why he was angry at Onii-chan now, but he was so angry. He sat on his bed, looking out the window. He could hear someone talking with Onii-chan in the kitchen, another one of those ladies in their suits. Onii-chan's voice was low; the woman's voice was high and hurt his ears. The woman opened his door. Toshiro remembered he was supposed to be on his best behavior around this lady. "Are you his girlfriend?" Toshiro asked. He saw her cheeks redden, but the lady smiled at him sweetly.
It was a smile Toshiro hated. He hated these people pitying him. "How are you today?" The woman asked. Toshiro sat through her questions, nodding politely and aware of the tension in Onii-chan's shoulders from where he stood in the doorway. After the lady left, he turned around and glared at Onii-chan. "Mom and dad aren't coming back, are they?" He demanded. Onii-chan looked away, at the wall. Toshiro found it infuriating. "They're not?" He asked. He suddenly felt very small and young. "I'm sorry, Shiro-kun." Onii-chan said.
Tears welled in his eyes. He refused to let them fall, because he was thirteen now, and thirteen-year-olds didn't cry. Onii-chan didn't call him 'kun' often. Toshiro stood there for a long moment, fists clenched and lip trembling. "I don't believe you." He said. His words surprised him, because some part of him had known that after that night he would not see either parent again. He also knew that Onii-chan was always looking out for him, always keeping him safe and happy even if he had to suffer. Onii-chan seemed surprised too. "You're lying. They'll come back, and then we can be happy again." He said.
Without another word he turned and ran, skipping steps as he went down the stairs. He heard Onii-chan's steps behind him, always a little faster than his. "Toshiro! Come back!" Toshiro ignored his brothers call, ignored the rare raising of his voice as he pushed the apartment's lobby's door open and kept running. He didn't make it far. Onii-chan's arms closed around him, kept him from getting further away. He punched and kicked at Onii-chan, sobbed when he was placed back in the apartment until his rage was gone.
Then he curled up and slept.
Toshiro woke up gasping for air. Again, He noted with annoyance. But as his eyes adjusted to the pale moonlight, he saw the plate in front of him instead of on the coffee table. His hand was shaking when he ate, aware that his right arm had been bandaged and a neat row of stitches were in the crook of his elbow. He lay there, wondering what to do next when he saw the moonlight reflect the eyes of the Arrancar in the room with him.
Toshiro looked up, still blinking away remnants of the dream. "Let me sleep." He murmured. The Arrancar didn't move, didn't do anything. Toshiro sighed, shifted a little, and then felt the iciest pair of hands physically capable of being on earth (or in this case, Las Noches) pick him up. He felt himself being deposited unceremoniously on the couch, and a few moments later a blanket draped over his body. He sighed, wondered what was considered 'day' when there was only ever night, and slipped back into his dreams.
After his fit and attempt to run away Toshiro lay on his bed. He ignored Onii-chan's call for dinner, pretended to be asleep when Onii-chan came to the doorway.
In the morning he came out of his room and tip-toed into the kitchen to get ready for school. Onii-chan was asleep on the counter, leaning against the cabinets above with a cereal bowl held precariously on his lap. Toshiro hesitated, saw a bruise on his temple that hadn't been there before. He thought of waking him up so that Onii-chan could get ready for work, but he chickened out, instead continuing to tiptoe through the kitchen. He pulled open the fridge door, careful not to hit Ulquiorra's dangling legs with it, and pulled out the carton of orange juice, wishing he was taller so he could reach the top shelf where Ulquiorra hid his favorite treats. He closed the door and yelped, nearly dropping the orange juice. Onii-chan's green eyes were watching him, and Toshiro swore that his Onii-chan was creepier than the ghosts from the stories his classmates told.
In fact, Toshiro was sure that Onii-chan could scare a ghost by appearing out of nowhere. Anyway. He gulped, eyes wide. Ulquiorra merely stretched and ruffled Toshiro's hair. Toshiro looked down, hugging the orange juice to his chest. They didn't speak to each other for three torturously long and boring days. They never could stay angry at each other.
When Toshiro woke up Ulquiorra was still there. Still right in front of him. Toshiro groaned, rolled over and burrowed beneath the blankets. "Go away. Don't you have some other person to stare at?" He growled. He was greeted by silence. "I'm bored." He said, sitting up. He glared at Ulquiorra. "Isn't it your job to make me not bored?" He asked. The Arrancar visibly bristled. "My job, as you put it, is to serve Lord Aizen and arrange matters others are too incompetent for." He said. Toshiro rolled his eyes. "Right. You and Lord Aizen. I get it." He said. He watched the green eyes narrow at him. "You would well to remember your place, shinigami." Ulquiorra said.
Another eyes roll. Toshiro examined the bandages on his body and found them all clean. "Do you play Menko?" He asked. The blank look in Ulquiorra's eyes told him no. Toshiro sighed and leaned back. "You wouldn't happen to have work that needs doing or anything else I could do besides lay here?" He asked hopefully. Another blank look greeted him. Toshiro sighed and closed his eyes. The eternal night felt draining, making him feel more tired than normal. "When your legs recover, I suppose you may wander Hueco Mundo's grounds." Ulquiorra said. Toshiro looked at him, tried to identify what his brother was thinking. It failed, and he was left watching the Arrancar turn and leave the room with his hands shoved into his pockets.
Toshiro slept that night, or day, or whatever it was in Las Noches. And he dreamed.
It was windy. Toshiro realized almost immediately that this was not his dream and it was not a flashback. It was somewhere he hadn't gone. It was a skyscraper in a city, and he watched someone walk out of the elevator. He recognized the shape of the shoulders, the black hair tussled by the gusts of wind. It was Ulquiorra. Toshiro realized with a start, that this was Ulquiorra's dream, Ulquiorra's flashback.
Toshiro stood there and watched. This Ulquiorra looked closer to the age of the one before he and Toshiro had been hit by the bus. Toshiro realized he had never seen this Ulquiorra. He looked tired and weighed down by just the air around him. Toshiro stood on the balcony at the top of the world and watched his brother lean against the chain link fence, fingers curling around the metal and mournful eyes watching the traffic below. Then his brother was climbing the fence, teetering precariously at the top. Toshiro watched numbly as Ulquiorra closed his eyes.
And watched him fall.
It made the hair on the back of his neck raise. He shivered and discovered that, in the night, the blanket had fallen off. He looked, half expecting to see Ulquiorra standing somewhere in the room. He wasn't, and Toshiro found it strangely disconcerting. He looked outside and saw the moon, thought he wasn't sure if that meant it was morning or afternoon. The door opened, and he must have surprised Ulquiorra by being awake, because he looked in time to see wide green eyes narrow at him, bandages in one hand and a bowl of something unfamiliar in the other. "They have not returned." He said.
Toshiro blinked. "What?" he asked. There was a spark of perplexity in his eyes, and Toshiro fisted the blanket. "Aizen-sama has not returned, and the others are dead." Ulquiorra said, and Toshiro's gut twisted. It all made sense, in the worst of ways. Toshiro died without anything holding him back from being collected by a Soul Reaper. That much was clear. He swallowed hard and looked back out the window. "Do you dream?" He asked. "…No." He heard. Slow enough to be a lie. Slow enough for Toshiro to know that Ulquiorra was starting to remember too.
After that Toshiro was left alone much more frequently. He did his best for the next two weeks to catch when and who entered the room, but failed. No matter how hard he tried every time he dozed was when someone came. He knew it was Ulquiorra, even as disjointed dreams reminded him of the life he used to live. After those two weeks was when he actually saw someone again. Someone, of course, being Ulquiorra.
Two weeks later the door slid open. Toshiro had been in the middle of deciphering what the bandages were made of, since the material was obviously not the norm. Ulquiorra stood in the door, hands in his pockets and eyes the epitome of conflicted. But, he saw more of the Ulquiorra he had known as a human. "Your legs have likely recovered enough to attempt a short walk." He said. Toshiro shifted slightly, mind conjuring ideas of what 'recovered enough' could possibly mean. He held still as Ulquiorra unwrapped the bandages, relaxed when he saw new skin and only the barest of slashes that would leave scars. He swung each leg over the edge of the couch slowly, mildly surprised when Ulquiorra offered his arm for support. He heaved himself upward, swaying as he leaned heavily on Ulquiorra's arm.
They left the cell. Toshiro craned his neck to take in his surroundings. Everything was eerily quiet and still. He hobbled down the hall, taking in the pristine white of everything, looking out the windows over the desert, a stretch of white as far as he could see with a few twisted white trees.
When he finally was led back to his room it had been changed. A small table and two chairs sat in the room, a bed replaced the couch, and Toshiro had the feeling it wasn't spontaneous.
Days passed. Toshiro wobbled unsteadily down the halls as his legs healed, met the various fraccions still here, and saw more of his brother appearing in the Arrancar's eyes. "Come with me." Ulquiorra said one day. Toshiro frowned. They were in the middle of a Go game, and Toshiro was winning. "Why?" he asked. Ulquiorra gave a small shrug, another of the more human indications that he was in fact remembering. "We are going to walk." He said.
They went through doorways and halls that Toshiro didn't recognize. There were more fraccion in this area as well as adjucha, more like animals than the other things. "Where are we going?" Toshiro asked, eying the beings that scooted out of their way as quickly as possible. Ulquiorra didn't turn or answer and Toshiro narrowed his eyes, making sure to remember where they were going.
Huge doors sat at the end of the maze-like hallways, as white as anything else. They opened without any visible prompting, and then the desert lay out before Toshiro in all of its moonlit barren glory. A breeze tussled his hair. He hesitated and looked at Ulquiorra. Ulquiorra's eyes were deadpan as he continued into the desert.
Miles of empty desert stretched in all directions. The trees, Toshiro noted, weren't made of wood. Lizards scurried away when they came close, shadows moved below the sand. Toshiro chose to break the silence first. "You remember, don't you?" He asked. As quietly as he asked it seemed like a shout in the stillness of the sand.
Green met turquoise. He saw mix of pain and resignation in his Onii-san's eyes.
"Yes."
Author's Note
I can't believe I actually finished it…I'm so out of my element writing Toshiro fanfics. This goes out to my sister FloweringLotus who does write Toshiro H. fanfics and requested a story from me. So hard! D: Thank you for reading Rain! Constructive criticism and other reviews much appreciated! Please don't flame! It hurts my soul…