A/N: Hi all, welcome to my story! This is written early in the series before Ichigo gets his powers, although we may get there later on. For now, I'd like to introduce you to the workings of Division 4's hospital, told from the POV of a newly minted Healer. There'll be lots of fluff, but be patient! It is Hitsugaya after all.

Bleach has ended, and so maybe this isn't the best time to start a new fanfic. However, I came up with an idea I really liked, and couldn't resist. I wrote this with love, and hope you will give it a chance. More than that, I hope you will enjoy it.

Edit: For those of y'all who want to skip to the fluff, I suggest jumping to chapter five ;) There are snippets of it everywhere, but Five is the closest to a fluff chapter I guess!

Disclaimer: Bleach isn't mine, the story and OC are.

Kitai

- to hope -

Chapter 1:

The Meeting

It was only my first week in the hospital, and chaos had already erupted. The previous days had been uneventful, leaving me completely unprepared for the emergency situation we were in now.

Just a few minutes ago I had still been considering whether I'd have the dark chocolate or the walnut-toffee cake for dessert, when the door burst open and two men came staggering into the Emergency Department. They were barely holding up a third comrade, and after a few staggering steps all three sank to the floor.

I stood rooted to the spot while the Healers immediately sprang into action. In a few moments they were surrounded, and I only caught a few glimpses of what was going on. Shreds of clothing were thrown in a pile as nurses cut off their bloodied uniforms, allowing the most obvious wounds to be attended to. The pool of blood on the floor was growing rapidly, and a stench in the air indicated someone's bowels had been punctured. An agonized groan cut through the air. What looked like a fragment of a claw was sticking through an abdomen, and they were trying to keep the guy from rolling around in pain.

"Get them on the trolleys!" someone yelled.

"Excuse me!" A nurse shoved past. I quickly moved over to the wall, and opposite the room I saw Hanatarou similarly pressed in a corner, watching wide-eyed. As interns, all we could do was avoid being in the way.

"Rukongai…" The one who had been sliced open with a claw seemed to be the only one still conscious. "The others... Ginza-san... Heikurou... in Rukongai. District 92." He groaned as he was lifted into a trolley bed. I caught a glimpse of his face, deathly pale, caught in a grimace of pain. "Please!"

Isane, our lieutenant, pushed him back on the bed. "Lie down! You did well to get here. We'll send a relief team out immediately, now just relax, and let us help you."

She gave out more orders as the guy was wheeled into P1, finally turning to the remaining Healers and adding, "We'll prepare for a mass casualty Level 1. I expect a full squad of injured men to be brought in."

'We' didn't include us, right? I exchanged glances with Hanatarou. We had just finished two years in the Academy, and had only just entered the Gotei's main hospital for training. I could count with my fingers the number of people I'd actually healed, and then not always successfully. Today, for example, there had been a guy who came in with a putrid, weeping gash from ear to chin. Iemura (my supervisor-in-charge, who basically watched to make sure I didn't do anything stupid) later told me that the guy was a special case—he was from the 12th Division, a subordinate of the mad scientist Kurotsutchi-taichou, and they suspected a modified Hollow gave him the injury.

The stench of the wound had been unbelievable, and after my unsuccessful attempt at healing I'd staggered away, gagging. Iemura took over, and managed to stop the progression of infection (and remove the smell), but said we'd have to wait for Unohana-taichou to see him. The guy had refused to talk, and no one had yet managed to find out what had attacked him. Iemura thought he might have been breeding modified Hollows. Some others thought Kurotsutchi-taichou had let loose one of his experiments on his men, which was pretty unbelievable if you ask me. Either way, whatever it was, I just hoped it wasn't on the loose.

I won't be much help in this situation, I thought sadly, watching as grim faced Healers tugged on protective gowns, masks and goggles. I clenched my hands behind my back, wishing I didn't feel so useless. One day I would be there. One day I would be a Healer. I promised myself silently that I would work hard.

A nurse came running in and stopped, panting, in front of the Healers. "Iemura-san?" She paused to catch her breath. "Outside—we have a training injury, it's not serious, but—"

"We can't deal with him now," Iemura interrupted, tying on his face mask. "He'll have to wait."

"Yes, but…" The nurse nodded in assent, twisting her hands nervously. "But…"

"Miyamoto." I froze as his eyes settled on me. "You know how to sense wounds, right?"

"Yes."

"Ok, go and figure out what issue this guy has, then document it. Don't heal without supervision."

"Hai!" I bowed and followed the nurse out.

The Emergency Department, or ED for short, wasn't very big. It was just a triage area, where we treated life-threatening injuries before sending patients up to the wards. The area I'd just left was for Priority 1 and 2 cases, and the nurse was now leading me to P3, where I'd healed the minor injuries yesterday.

It was empty except for a white-haired patient sitting on a bench, whose startling green eyes glowered at us the moment we entered. The nurse bowed deeply and scurried away.

I walked forward and bowed. My mind was still in P2, filled with mixed feelings—regret at missing out, and relief at being spared the sight of mangled bodies so early in my training.

"I'm Miyamoto Akiya, an intern from the 4th Division. May I take a look at your wounds?"

Silence greeted me. I scrutinized the guy. He looked about my age, although I knew no one else who could glare so coldly, and intimidate without words.

"It's on my right side," he said finally, brows furrowed. "Heal it quickly. I don't want to stay long."

I refrained from raising my own brows. "I'm sorry, I can't heal you without supervision. There's an emergency now, so I will document your wounds and let Iemura-san—let my senior know."

I was interrupted by swift footsteps in the corridor behind. A nurse ran by, wheeling bags of blood for transfusion. She was followed closely by a group of Healers rushing in, carrying a body between them.

I swallowed. It looked like the guy might have been missing an arm. And that white thing might have been bone…

"Hey."

I jumped at the tone of command. "Yes?"

His expression had softened slightly, and he just looked tired.

"Just… do what you have to." He shut his eyes and muttered, "I'll kill you when I get back, Matsumoto…"

Hmmm. Not a happy patient, then.

"I'll just do a quick check of your body, so we won't miss anything," I said, seating myself beside him. Normally patients were in beds, which made the process easier, but I could understand why the nurses were reluctant to force this guy.

I sat beside him and placed my palm a few inches above his hand. We were taught to go systematically from head to toe, but the hands were the least personal part of the body, so I liked to start there. Focusing my reiatsu, I tuned myself to his flesh, and started searching for abnormalities. A cool green light bathed us, and I slowly progressed to his shoulder, then checked his other arm, before using both hands for his torso.

"Could you..." I gestured vaguely at his shihakusho. I still hadn't figured a way of asking patients to undress without sounding perverted. He tugged his sash and shrugged the garment off, revealing pale skin and a hairless chest.

There were some old bruises—already greenish yellow—but no broken ribs that I could sense. I paused at his right flank, shifting his sash away. I could sense the heat of inflammation before I reached the split skin.

I looked up. He was watching the flurry of activity outside, but at my sudden movement he turned to me and arched a brow. His eyes weren't green, I realized, they were teal. It was a strange, but oddly alluring shade I'd never seen before. There was something about him that was vaguely familiar, but I couldn't put my finger on it.

"When did you get this wound?" I blurted, aware that I had been staring.

"Five days ago."

"It's infected."

"Hmph."

I kept silent as I continued checking his body for wounds. I couldn't tell if he was trying to dismiss the severity of his injury, or if he was being rude. Or both. Although this was only my first week in the hospital, I was aware of how other shinigami viewed Division 4.

We spent more time studying than on battle practice when we were in the Academy, so our fighting abilities were limited. That made us an object of scorn by the other divisions, but I thought things would get better after becoming a Healer (or a Healer-intern). From what I'd seen so far, Healers mostly met with gratitude. There were still times when people would treat Healers and nurses rudely, acting haughty while insulting the people they came to for help. Luckily, those were few and far between.

This guy wasn't exactly rude, though, and his attitude wasn't out of the ordinary. Still, I didn't trust myself to say anything until I was quite calm.

He had no injuries apart from the gash on his side, which showed he'd managed to recover quickly after being cut. I focused on the injury, trying to gauge how deep it was.

"How did you get this?" I asked.

"Kenpachi," he replied through gritted teeth.

The wound was about four inches at its deepest, and the infection was bad. He wasn't septic, although he was sweating and possibly feverish. I'd have to check.

"Kenpachi?" I echoed absently. I could numb the pain and take away the infection. It technically wasn't healing if I didn't close the wound. I just didn't want to leave him as he was, stone-faced but with a light sheen of perspiration on his forehead, unable to completely hide the pain.

"The battle freak attacked me. I cut him, but he probably won't come for treatment. I wouldn't have either, if Matsumoto didn't steal my haori and threaten me..."

Probing the wound with reiatsu, I began to numb his nerve endings, and neutralize the infected tissue. I sensed more than felt him relax as I began my work.

Kenpachi… battle freak... Matsumoto… Something nagged at the back of my mind, as I tried to concentrate.

...Haori?

I glanced up. Startling white hair, a shinigami about my age, teal eyes, a missing haori…

"Ano…" I hesitated, feeling a building sense of inescapable doom. He looked at me under half-lidded eyes. "Ano, how do I address you again?"

"Hitsugaya," he replied without change in expression. "Taichou."

A/N: And that's all for now, folks! What do you think? I worry about putting in too much Healer stuff, or perhaps progressing too quickly. Don't worry, though, Toushirou certainly isn't going to be enamored quickly, that would be OOC. (Although just like y'all I want action! Action!)

Reviews are always appreciated ;)

Hugs and free goodies,

Mel