Well, I meant to get a short chapter written uploaded just after I posted the first one. However, life got in the way. A half dozen papers and all my semester exams later, I'm finally uploading this five-thousand word (ZOMG) chapter. Hope you enjoy.
Warning: Though I attempted to keep it within the limits of the rating (believe me, I toned it waaay down from its original version), the first part of this chapter does contain a scene of torture. The super-duper squeamish have been warned.
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A trickle of crimson slowly slid down the dark blade of the Arrancar's zanpakuto, softly dripping onto the floor, where more blood—her own blood—flowed in thin rivulets, pooling in the spaces between the stones. She lay, shivering, on that cold, blood-slicked surface, unable to even move as the guttural voices of broken-masked Hollows argued above her.
The voices cut off, and she found herself torn to her feet by her hair, her chin tilted upward by a clawed hand to stare into the face of one of the Arrancar. As she gazed into his glittering yellow eyes, the tiny portion of her brain that had not yet shut down from pain or exhaustion dully noted that the half of his face not covered by a crocodile-skull mask was, in fact, quite beautiful. Beautiful, that is, if one ignored the cruel twist of his lips, the unnatural wideness of his eyes, the splatters of blood that painted his pale skin. As she watched, his long, purple tongue slithered out from between his warped lips, flicked across his cheek, and then slid back, smeared with red.
A feral grin made of too-large teeth stretched across his monstrous face. The second Arrancar behind her chuckled and tightened his grip on her hair.
There was a rough hiss of air on metal. A zanpakuto had been raised into attack position, but she did not know if it was the unknown Arrancar behind her or the crocodilian one who intended to strike. Cold metal scraped the back of her neck— a trickle of crimson warmth flowed down along her spine. She bit her lip to keep from gasping in pain, forcing instead her own dull brown eyes to stare, unblinkingly, straight back into the Hollow's molten gold ones. She could not remember why she could not allow herself to scream or whimper or even shut her eyes; that knowledge had disappeared along with her identity, her memory, and nearly every part of her consciousness not needed for her to simply endure.
All she could do now was to stare defiantly, to last the pain, and to wait for the death promised in those merciless yellow eyes. All forms of hope had vanished long ago.
She felt the deadly coldness of the zanpakuto's blade move to press against her cheek. The crocodilian Arrancar's wild grin stretched even wider, splitting the visible half of his face nearly to his ear, and she could almost feel his muscles tense in preparation for another slash.
And then something shifted.
A low, continuous murmur, like a muffled voice, suddenly filled the room. The Arrancar did not hear it; his eyes and cruel smile stayed fixed in their maniacal expression. But she could, and she found her eyes leaving his blood-splattered face to peer over his shoulder at the door that blocked the only entrance to the room, a door that was now rattling on its hinges as though pummeled by heavy, inaudible blows.
Then, with a thundering crash, the white stone barrier blew apart, fragments flying clear across the room to shatter thousand-fold on the opposite wall. The crocodilian Arrancar whipped around, zanpakuto drawn and at the ready, moving to stand between her and the intruder.
But somehow, she could see through him. See, framed by a brilliant halo of the purest light, the most unusual of rescuers she could have possibly imagined.
Astride a gigantic white war-horse and armored in burnished silver, a medieval European knight galloped into the room, his lance leveled for battle.
The crocodilian Arrancar roared a challenge, leaping forward only to find himself spitted on the end of the knight's lance. The second Arrancar released his hold on her hair, clawed fingers scrabbling at the hilt of the zanpakuto at his waist. But the knight was faster. Before the broken-masked Hollow could even draw his blade, the knight's sword had swung in a glittering arc, and the Arrancar's headless body slumped heavily to the stone floor.
The knight pulled his horse to a stop directly in front of her, staring down through the slits of his lowered visor. His sword, she now saw, was not a typical Western straight-bladed sword; rather, it was a long Japanese katana, resembling more than anything else a sealed zanpakuto.
A gauntleted hand was suddenly extended before her, it's open, upturned palm an invitation. She raised her own quivering, blood-slicked hand and softly placed it in his, lacing their fingers together. Then, as though she weighed no more than a feather, the knight effortlessly lifted her, swinging her up onto his horse behind him. And then they were off.
Out through a window that now opened in what before had been blank stone.
Out past the now-crumbling walls of Las Noches.
Out across the glittering crystal sands that refracted the golden light of the sunrise that had pierced the eternal night of Hueco Mundo.
Clutching the knight's back, her hair flying behind her like the snapping green pennants tied to his lance, she found herself laughing, crying, laughing again.
She was free.
---
The white horse slowed to a canter, then to a trot, to a walk, and then, at last, a full stop, and the knight dismounted, his armor clanking noisily. Taking her by her waist, he lifted her from the back of the horse just as easily as he had put her on. She smiled up at him, a vague part of her mind noting that, during the course of the gallop, her wounds had closed and her exhaustion had melted away.
The knight stiffly bowed before her. She had no idea what courtesy called for in such a situation, so she bowed back. The knight seemed to think this funny—at any rate, the odd, muffled-voice sound grew louder as he swept into another, deeper bow. Then, upon straightening, he at last pushed up his visor.
Her brown eyes widened in horror, her mouth opened to release a choked gasp. She turned, taking her first step on what was sure to be a terrified flight across the desert, but a gauntleted fist clamped shut on her left arm. A quick pull sent her spinning back around to stare into his face—or rather, the place where his face would be if he had one.
His armor opened up into empty darkness. Black void.
She could feel it pulling, sucking her in. She struggled, frantically flailing about, but the grip on her arm was inexorable; the vacuum continued to draw her in. In desperation, she lashed out with her free arm—
Only to feel it connect with something very, very solid.
Blink
Hinamori suddenly found sitting bolt upright in her bed at the Fourth Division's medical center, her left arm limp at her side, her right extended, hand clenched in a fist. And on the floor beside her, a rather woozy-looking healer massaging his jaw.
---
"Oh, dear! I'm so sorry! I—I didn't mean to, really, I was just dreaming and—"
The healer, a young man with a mop of brown hair, just waved Hinamori's frantic apology off.
"Don't worry 'bout it, honey," he said, flashing her a wide grin. "Believe me, I've gotten much worse from some of those Eleventh Division louts. Though, I have ta say, I think you could give them a run for their money in a punching contest."
"Still, I shouldn't have…I mean, I'm sorry…"
"Tch, like I said, don' worry about it. See, look, a little healing kidou and…Poof! No more swelling, no more bruise, no more fractured jaw—Hey! Don't look so freaked! I was just kidding about the fracture part!"
The healer finally pulled himself off the floor and plopped himself back on the stool beside the bed where had been sitting. "I'm Ogido, by the way," he said, his cheerful, white-toothed grin stretching even wider. "Eighth-seat Ogido Harunobu."
"Nice to meet you, Ogido-san," Hinamori said, bowing as best she could from her position on the bed.
There was a pause, as though Ogido was waiting for her to say more.
"Erm…have we met before?"
His grin took on a slightly deflated look.
"Er… I'm sorry?"
Ogido again flapped a dismissive hand. "No, it's nothing like that, Hinamori-san. I just thought that maybe my reputation had preceded…ah, never mind, never mind."
He assumed a more professional tone. "So, it would seem then, that you are feeling better? You can move much easier, yes?"
Hinamori took stock of herself. Unlike after her previous awakening, it no longer was exhausting just to talk. Obviously, she could now sit up and move her head and right arm, but her left arm and both legs still felt unnaturally heavy and limp. She tried wiggling the fingers of her listless hand. Her index finger and thumb both gave a halfhearted twitch, but the rest didn't even budge. Alarmed, she reached over with her good arm to try to prod the other to life, but she found her wrist suddenly clasped by Ogido's tanned hand.
"Hey, there, don't go messing up my work now! If you tear something you shouldn't, I'll have ta start all over!"
Hinamori blinked her large brown eyes. "Excuse me?"
"Well, ta put it in simple terms, Hinamori-san, all your muscles have atrophied pretty bad. That's what you get if you don't do anything but snore—"
"I don't snore!"
"—don't do nothing but snore and flop around for a few years. Your muscles just wither away, and when you wake up, you can't move too well. I've been rebuilding them with kidou, see? Like this."
He moved his hand to gently rest two long fingers above the last joint of Hinamori's left thumb. The green glow of a healing kidou spell washed across her skin, accompanied by an intense pins-and-needles feeling throughout her whole hand.
"There. Try bending it."
She attempted to move the previously immobile digit. She'd been patched up by the miraculous abilities of the Fourth Division before, so it came as no surprise that the tip of her thumb now bent smoothly.
She smiled and thanked him.
"Aw, shucks, hun, I'm just doing my job! 'Course, it is nice to fix up a pretty little thing like yourself for a change instead one of those Eleventh Division barbarians! Even if it does mean getting my face broken in by said pretty thing." He cocked his head to the side. "If I may ask, just what were you dreaming about ta make you punch like that? You were making some weird sounds just before you woke up."
Hinamori racked her memory. A horse? A white horse and a green flag. And…a…a sword? The details of her dream were fading even as she reached for them.
"Ah, sorry, Ogido-san. I don't remember…"
"Tch, no worries. It was nice though, however painful, ta see that I did a proper job on that right arm of yours. And now if you'd let me have a go at your left where I was working—thank ya kindly—I'll see If I can do one of equal quality."
The green glow of kidou again lit the room, and that horrible prickling feeling spread from fingertips to shoulder blade. It wasn't terribly painful, Hinamori decided, just rather uncomfortable. Scratch that, really, really uncomfortable.
"Say, Ogido-san…"
He answered without looking up. "Yeah?"
"You were the one who cured my right arm, right?"
"Yep."
"Did you fix up the rest of me too? Like my neck and back and stuff?"
"Naw, that was Seventh-seat Yamada. I'm second shift."
"Still, the healing goes pretty fast, right? I mean, the two of you got almost half of me done in just a few hours while I was asleep, right?"
"Actually hun, you were out for a couple of days."
Hinamori gaped at him.
Ogido gave her arm a reassuring pat. "Don' worry, it's not what you're thinkin'— ya didn't relapse into your coma or nothing. It seems some idiot healer accidentally gave you the dosage of sedatives normally used for rowdy Elevenths. And a normal dose for one 'o those jackasses is enough to knock out a battalion of Menos Grande." He chuckled. "And don' worry, it's definitely not going to happen again. Captain Unohana was about as pissed as I've ever seen her, which is a sight to see, I tell ya that."
Mollified, Hinamori returned to her original question. "So, then, this, er… muscle-rebuilding process takes a long while?"
"You betcha!"
"How long is long? I mean, I'm very grateful for your efforts, but it does feel a little odd…"
"Well, I should be finished with your arm in, oh, six hours or so."
"Oh."
---
Her left arm still only half rebuilt, Hinamori found herself in a state of utter boredom. Sometime earlier, she had attempted to find a distraction from the discomfort of the healing process by asking Ogido about himself. Unfortunately, the young man had cheerfully launched into a monologue about his innumerable friends and relatives, a monologue which, after nearly an hour of uninterrupted speech, showed no signs of stopping. Hinamori, who had tuned him out after the first fifteen minutes, had been reduced to counting ceiling tiles.
One-thousand six-hundred forty-two, one-thousand six-hundred forty-three, one-thousand six-hundred forty-four…
"So then, Satoshi told me 'bout that time when him and Shinji were visiting the forty-third district of Rukongai…"
One-thousand six-hundred forty-five, one-thousand six-hundred forty-six …
"And then, Kyoko-chan, who if you'd remember was the chick tha' got drunk during Takahashi-san's party…"
One-thousand six-hundred forty-seven…
"…told me that there was no way she could go to the festival 'cause…"
The tingling in Hinamori's arm briefly spiked as Ogido shifted his grip.
One-thousand six-hundred forty—six?Eight? Darn it all.
She slumped down on the pillows, choking down the urge to sigh in frustration. How much longer was this going to take? She wanted out, she wanted to just get up out of this bed and just run out of this claustrophobic little room where she had spent the past nine years of her life. She wanted OUT. Of course, if she did try to stand, her legs would undoubtedly collapse beneath her. And knowing her luck, she'd probably conk her head on the floor and concuss herself into another coma…
She irritably shifted about under the covers, which resulted in a warning poke from Ogido. She turned her head to glare (grumpily stare) at him, but sudden flicker of green at the edge of her vision caught her eye. She whipped around to look.
It was a book.
A hard-cover book to be exact, half-protruding from a large box in the corner. Hinamori blinked at it, surprised that she hadn't noticed it after all this time. It was just sitting in plain sight next to that tall stool, for heaven's sake.
Suddenly, solution to her boredom that did involve getting her ear talked off popped into her head.
"Hey, excuse me, Ogido-san.." she slyly said.
"…and then they made me their chief---Ah, yes, Hinamori-san?" the healer answered, looking up, his usual floppy grin plastered across his face. "What can I do for you?"
"Those books, the ones in that box…If it's not too much trouble, do you think you could hand me one of them? I mean, I don't mind listening to you and all, but I'm kind of tired, and I think a good book will help me sleep—or stay awake, whichever you'd prefer…"
Ogido's smile faded from his face.
"Is there something wrong?" Hinamori anxiously asked. The expression he now wore alarmingly resembled fear.
"Ah, no, not really," he said, his dark eyes flicking nervously between her and the box. "Well, actually, yeah, he said he'd rip anybody who moved his books limb from limb."
Hinamori stared at the healer in shocked surprise.
Ogido shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Actually," he mused, half to himself, "he only really implied he'd do that…" He squinted at Hinamori. "And I doubt he'd hurt her, since she's…"
The cheery grin suddenly reappeared to again split his face in two. "Just a minute, Hinamori-san," he chirped. He stood, stretched, then ambled over to the box. After a moment of rifling through the contents, he straightened back up with more than a half-dozen volumes balanced in his arms. Then, with a resounding crash, he dropped those books into a haphazard stack on his patient's bedside table.
Though she had let out an indignant squawk at his rough treatment of precious literature, Hinamori was quite sincere when she thanked him. Ogido, however, just waved her gratitude off with yet another vague hand gesture and a cheery "Your wish is my command, Hinamori-san" before resuming his work on her arm, though thankfully in silence this time.
Hinamori tilted her head to examine the books' titles. A Field Guide to Birds of the East Indies.Sun Tzu's The Art of War. A Short History of Taxation Reform in Soul Society, 1132-1856. One-thousand and One Ways to Serve Rice. The rest of the titles were equally as incongruous and mismatched.
She found herself intrigued and a little disturbed. What kind of person would collect a bunch of random books, threaten dismemberment to anyone who touched them, then store them in a hospital room? And why her room, of all places? Just what kind of people was Captain Unohana allowing to roam around?
"Erm, sorry to bother you again, Ogido-san, but…" Hinamori said.
The healer peered up at her through his thick bangs, yet another wide smile stretching from ear to ear. Hinamori wondered if his face ever got tired from grinning like that all the time.
"Ah, I was just wondering if you could tell me who it was who left these books? They are certainly an, er, unusual collection, aren't they?
Ogido chuckled a little uneasily. "That they are, yeah," he agreed, his eyes again flicking nervously toward the books. "'Course, I'm not really in a position to judge 'em, seeing as those there belong to Captain Hitsugaya."
For a moment, that name hung suspended in the air like a single snowflake. Then, Hinamori's liquid brown eyes blinked in confused surprise. "These are…Captain Hitsugaya's? What…why are…what are they…"
"What are they doing here?" finished Ogido. Seeing Hinamori's nod, the healer answered. "Well, obviously it's 'cause he was reading 'em, yeah?"
"But why here," Hinamori said, a little impatiently.
"Where else did'ja expect him to read them? I mean it woulda been hard for him to read 'em to ya if he was snuggled up all cozy in his office, right?"
"Hitsugaya-kun read to…me?"
"Yep, He sure did. Kinda the last thing you'd expect from a cold bas—I mean Captain like that, but yeah, he was in here 'bout every day, sittin' on that stool and giving that icy death glare of his to anybody who interrupted him. I've was on the receiving end of it a few years back, and I still get chills every time I see an ice cube."
"Hitsugaya-kun read to…me?" Hinamori repeated, her eyes wide. A dim memory briefly surfaced before sinking back into the murky depths of her subconscious. A black, hollow void, empty except for—
…After an eternity of silence…a sound…a low, continuous babble, rising and falling… A voice?
"Yep, near every day for nine years," answered Ogido, interrupting her thoughts. "Well, actually in the beginning, he just came and talked. Then I guess he ran out of things to say, and so he just sat there and stared at ya for a few months. Then he started bringing those books, I dunno where he got 'em, and you know th' rest."
"Mmm" Hinamori acknowledged. Inside, she was still a little confused—and more than a little touched. She'd known that Hitsugaya considered her a friend, but she hadn't had any idea that she meant enough to him for him to take so much time away from his captain's duties and precious paperwork, and to do so for nine years, no less!
And for some reason, the knowledge that he cared—really cared—made her insides squiggle with happiness and set her heart aflutter.
She ran the fingers of her free hand lightly along the cloth-covered spines of the piled books. Her finger snagged on a trailing thread, and a sudden catching thought made her pause. Just where was Hitsugaya anyway? Ogido had said that he'd been here to see her nearly every day, and Hinamori had been out of her coma, though still asleep, for at least three. Had Hitsugaya visited her while she had been asleep? If then, why hadn't he stayed to see her wake? Brown eyes shot toward the vacant stool in the corner, almost as if she expected to see that the white-haired boy had been sitting there, unnoticed, the whole time.
Had something happened to him? Was he hurt? Had he…had he…Hinamori fought to control a rising tide of panic. Had he simply thought that she no longer needed him, now that she was awake, and so had not come?
No, no, Hitsugaya-kun was not that kind of person, the logical part of her brain scolded the panicking part. There, calm down, breathe. Breathe. He had some good reason why he was absent. Yes, he was a captain, with time-consuming captain's duties, after all. Breathe. Just give him a few hours, and he'll come stomping through the door, scowling like usual, and everything will be… will be alright.
But her emotional side refused to be placated so easily. It had to know what was going on. The logical part figuratively threw up its hands and demanded that they at least get their body under control before letting any potentially embarrassing sounds spill out of their mouth.
A few deep breaths later, Hinamori was ready. "Excuse me, Ogido-san," she began, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. "I was just wondering if you know where Captain Hitsugaya is? Has he stopped by since I woke up? The first time?
Ogido, who had long since resumed his work on her arm, looked up to stare her straight in the eyes. His ubiquitous smile seemed a little narrower, a little weaker. Hinamori wondered if this was because he had felt her quickened pulse and was concerned, or if something had indeed happened to childhood friend. She fiercely hoped that it was the former rather than the latter.
After a heavy pause, Ogido shrugged and went on with the healing. "Hollow-hunting mission," he said.
"Er, Hollow what?"
"Hunting mission," he repeated, not looking up from her arm. "He's off on a Hollow huntin' mission. Ya see, just at the war's end, a few of Aizen's Arrancar broke through our lines and vanished into the desert of Hueco Mundo. They've been poppin' up to wreak havoc ever since. Or wreak havoc as well as any headless mob can. They're only a nuisance really, but the rare strong one that crops up is too dangerous to let anybody but a captain handle."
"Ah," murmured Hinamori. A tiny edge of fear was beginning to claw its way back into her mind, but this time her logical self was prepared for it. There was no reason to worry about Hitsugaya-kun getting hurt, it admonished. He was a captain, a powerful captain after all. He'd probably taken out Espada during the war, and could no doubt beat a broken-masked Adjucas bloody in his sleep. There was no need to waste energy fretting about trivial things…
But one last matter still needed to be resolved. "Say, do you know when he'll be back? Captain Hitsugaya, I mean." Hinamori asked.
"Well, these missions don' last very long—less than a week, usually. I 'spect you'll see him pretty darn soon. I know that Captain Unohana sent him a hell butterfly sayin' you'd woken up, so he'll probably come shootin' in here like a bat out o' hell as soon as he gets back."
"Thanks, Ogido-san" said Hinamori. "sorry I kept pestering you."
"No problem, hun," the healer said, his wide grin restored to his face. "Anythin' to set your mind at ease."
So he had noticed her panic. So much for self-control.
"So if you don't have any more questions, Hinamori-san, I 'd like to finish your arm up right quick so the next guy can start healin' you. It's not that I don' mind talking to ya or nothin', but I've kinda got a hot date tonight, and well, she ain't good at waiting if ya know what I mean."
Hinamori assured him that it was no problem, that he should work as fast as he wished. Ogido only grunted his acknowledgement this time, his glowing fingers indeed sweeping twice as quickly over her skin as before.
And so Hinamori found herself in a similar predicament. She was bedridden in a small hospital room, only one arm available for her use.
But this time, things were different. A pale hand reached out and pulled the topmost book from the stack on the bedside table. Awkwardly opening it on her lap, Hinamori Momo bent forward and began to read.
Once upon a time, in faraway kingdom …
---
A warm spring breeze danced merrily through the garden, tossing the petals of fallen cherry blossoms about and ruffling Hinamori's hair. Idly watching the play of reflected clouds and drifting petals upon the surface of an ornamental pond, Hinamori herself was seated upon a bench beneath a plum tree, her feet bare and nestled in the cool grass.
It had taken a grueling four days, but the skilled healers of the Fourth Division had finally succeeded in rebuilding the withered muscles of her body. Though still as weak as a kitten, Hinamori had been allowed to walk as far as this garden, which had been set aside for the use of recuperating patients and was almost always deserted. She had taken to spending as much time here as possible, enjoying the warmth of the sunlight and the fresh air.
The wind swirled past, showering her with damp petals. Hinamori carefully dusted them from the folds of her plain kimono and from slim book resting on her lap. As her fingers traced the contours of the faded green cover, she couldn't help but smile a little.
During her healing, she had begun reading a few of Hitsugaya's books, only to find the words familiar, almost as if she had seen them before. However, it was words of this green book, a collection of European fairy tales, that burned clearest in her mind's eye. She supposed this to be so because it probably had been the last thing Hitsugaya had read to her before he left. But that was not the reason why this one out of all the others was her favorite. No, it was her favorite because of the silly little image that floated in her mind's eye whenever she thought of it.
Upon his admission to the Shinigami Academy, Hitsugaya Toshiro had refused to be associated with anything the least bit childish. After his ascendance to captaincy, that refusal had only intensified. Anyone who gave him toys or candy (with the notable exception of Captain Ukitake) or made a comment implying he was acting his physical age was dealt with swiftly and harshly. The chance to see Captain Hitsugaya behaving as anything other than a dour, grumpy, pseudo-adult was rare indeed.
And so Hinamori wished she could have seen him then. Seen him sitting on that high stool, his feet swinging well above the floor, the book open on his lap. Seen him reading aloud children's stories about princesses and dragons and happily-ever-afters. Seen, for just a moment, the little boy who spat watermelon seeds at her on a dusty street in Rukongai.
Nostalgia sweeping over her, Hinamori leaned back on the bench and closed her eyes to the bright sunlight. She missed him, she now realized. Not just because he hadn't yet returned to see her from whatever Hollow-hunting mission he had been sent on. No, she'd been missing him for even longer. For decades, she'd only run into him in Seireitei on rare occasion, and then almost always in public. There had been few smiles shared between them, and little of the playful teasing that had gone on between them as it had when they roamed the city streets together, sister and brother by bond if not by blood. Sometimes it seemed almost as though those years they had spent together had never happened at all.
Wrapped up in her thoughts, Hinamori didn't notice the Shinigami behind her until the woman gave a polite cough.
"Excuse me, Hinamori-san, but you have a visitor. Shall I allow him in?"
Hinamori nodded her consent, and the healer glided back across the garden. Setting the book down beside her with a soft sigh, Hinamori creaked to her feet. She tottered a few steps forward, coming to stand at the edge of the pond, one hand pressed against the trunk of the plum tree for support.
There she waited, still watching the clouds slide smoothly beneath the petals upon the water's surface.
A few moments later, the gravel pathway behind her crunched beneath sandaled feet. Hinamori gave no sign of acknowledgement, even when the footsteps ceased and the only sound was that of the wind flapping in the tails of a white captain's haori.
Closing her eyes again, she simply let his reiatsu wash over her like the warm sunlight. She had missed him so much.
Hinamori at last turned around to face him, her best cheerful smile stretched across her face.
"It has been a long time, Hitsugaya-kun."
---
Author's Note (Whew)
EDIT February 10, 2008: Fixed a few small grammar and punctuation errors.
1) Eighth-Seat OgidoHarunobu is an actual Kubo Tite character. Of course, he only has two cameo lines in the manga (which didn't make the anime), so I feel justified in using dramatic license.
2) I apologize again to those who were waiting for Hitsugaya to show up. At least you hear him in this chappie. I'm planning on there being some fluff in the next chapter, so stick around!
3) A big "Thank you" to everyone who reviewed! freakaga1n, Mizuki23, InubakiCallMeNicoleLoveToHateYouZangetsuUnleashed, Pink Pritstick, Merciless Ruby, whitehitsugayaOri, y'all rock!
4) Well, if you liked this chapter or thought it was better than the previous one (I certainly do), leave me a comment! Comments make this authoress very happy and willing to write faster. Constructive criticism will be much appreciated as well.