Can I just say HAIL TITE! I knew you would pull through! Toushiro looks absolutely perfect with his hair down (looks like he finally got rid of the child/chibi complex thing and resolved to the cool/cute side of him! HAIL!) and the tattered scarf is just the most beautiful bit of artistic license. Now if Ichimaru can just come back… (even if it means he'll have to die again, at least make it meaningful this time).

Mental and shinigami power growth while in shota body with slight yet distinctive alterations in character features Doubly approves. ^^


There had been a time, a long, long time ago, when Toushiro would have glared a person down to his knees if they ever suggested that he and Ichimaru would one day be involved with each other. And said it in such a tone and wiggling of eyebrows and had let the heavy implication hover in the air that there was no missing of the meaning behind the words, because the young captain sometimes needed a little help in deciphering things like sarcasm or insinuations of matters like these. Even when he and Ichimaru had gotten "involved" with each other through the smallest things, he lived in that time (Ichimaru, however, needed to be threatened a bit until he promised not to encourage suggestions like that), because multiple reasons detained him from letting his relationship with the taller captain come into light. In the end, it turned out to be a waste of effort, albeit only with a small number of those from the higher ranks, who swore secrecy only because such news would cause an eruption from the rest of the Gotei.

But they had both lived in the time, when Toushiro would be fussing and flinging himself between private life and work with such nervousness that Ichimaru wondered would be the cause of their little secret being blown even without his interference, and the older man would catch him during one of these bouts, hold him and stroke his hair, murmuring comforting words to release his stress and allowing him even the briefest moments of relief from the tension (he did, however, enjoy being the one to initiate the flinging again by sending Toushiro into a panic whenever he did or said something that would give people the smallest hints in front of their mutual acquaintances).

They had both lived in the time when they were together, and only together, and they were happy and awkward and learning and embarrassed and loving each other. Ichimaru had set himself on the task of showing Toushiro the ropes, because the boy was hesitant and unconfident with himself and Ichimaru was older, had more experience with relationships and was willing to lead the dance. He knew Toushiro didn't like being treated as a kid, so he taught him the usual ministrations of a relationship without giving heed to any adult content one should probably not expose to someone who looked younger than a teenager. It was an exciting experience for the older captain, because he had never had the chance to form a partner from scratch – and he would be lying if he hadn't sometimes dreamt of creating the perfect partner, one which suited his needs and matched all his types. But he had known Toushiro was extremely intelligent, and he had realized afterwards that he had unwittingly been teaching Toushiro something else – who he was really, his feelings towards various things, his ideals and misconceptions at times of what this relationship was. And Toushiro had been so accepting, and he had also been teaching as much as he was learning, and Ichimaru found himself falling harder for discovering Toushiro's own true self.

It was a time when they could joke around freely when they were off work and were no longer just colleagues, and Ichimaru would gently tempt his young lover into trying something new, like inviting him to sit with him under the moon, overlooking the gardens of either of their division, and silently pouring sake into their cups, lifting one to his lover's lips. Sometimes he suspected that Toushiro only faced these challenges because he believed it would take him a step closer to where Ichimaru stood, as though they were not equals but rather master and apprentice. But a smile was all it took to tell the worried man that Toushiro wasn't like that, that he wouldn't spend time with him if he didn't enjoy it, and Ichimaru would strengthen his resolve that he would protect this person, no matter what it takes.

It was a recent time, but in a way, it seemed also a time long past.


Seireitei - Early Winter

It had hardly been a month since the Winter War, and the Death Gods had returned, tired, irritable, not at all uninjured, but victorious.

Although Toushiro had decided to dedicate most of his time to training and horning his powers, duties as a captain, it seemed, could not go ignored for so long. He soon found himself in a room, dark except for the multiple flickering lights from numerous screens embedded into the walls, staring at the largest one in the center. It showed a sort of radar of Rukongai, the structure of buildings in an area formed by a program that showed them as computerized green nets, and emitted beeping sounds that echoed in the large den.

The Tenth Division Captain kept his opinions about his co-workers to himself, finding that personal thoughts and impressions lead to almost prejudicial assumptions, but had to agree with the majority of Soul Society that Captain Kurotsuchi of the Twelfth Division was a downright freak. Even Komamura had more sense to not alarm his fellow shinigami in his younger days with his appearance, and retained the dignity worthy of a warrior, despite being of a species that had yet to be questioned. The man could creep out even the most sensible shinigami, and though Toushiro considered the Head of Research as a competent and efficient (sometimes too much, unfortunately), and certainly motivated scientist, he was very much tempted to keep his distance about a few arms' length long. It was a good thing that Kurotsuchi had no interest in the Tenth Captain and all his extraordinary attributes either, possibly having gotten bored of such anomalies some tens of years ago.

"Well, occurrences like these aren't too strange these days, and we all knew that they'll pop up sometime," Kurotsuchi was saying, his unnaturally high voice reverberating against the metal plated walls, "The Research Station has done its best in trying to stabilize the environment around that particular area, but really, it's like trying to fill in a deep hole in the earth which wasn't supposed to exist there in the first place, but did because somebody pulled and stretched space-time dimensions to make room for it without omitting or displacing any natural material that existed naturally. It's not easy."

"I was under the impression that what we did was just that?" Toushiro asked, an eyebrow raised, but the other man ignored him completely.

"So, just as we predicted, abnormal spiritual particles are being spotted all over this particular site in Soul Society. Most of the ones we found over the weeks were simply distorted, too affected by the presence and sudden disappearance of Karakura city to be able to be slotted into their normal places again. We, ah, disposed of those, of course. Really nothing to it."

The captain beside him was wearing a slightly mad smile. Toushiro resisted the urge to edge away and stilled his almost shuffling feet.

"Now, this one, however, is a different matter entirely. Of course, I had felt something rather off about it from the first moment it was sighted. There are quite a few peculiar factors about it…where to start, now where to start…"

The boy captain considered the screen before him. If he looked closer, he could make out a fuzzy red mark between the green nets of landscape and obstacles, and that the beeping sounded every time a wave of the radar reached it. Unlike much of its surroundings, the mark was unclear, vague; it flickered like a small flame on a candle, almost as if it was undecided of its existence itself. Toushiro found himself surprisingly engaged with watching the small thing, curiosity grappling him underneath his expressionless mask.

Kurotsuchi cleared his throat, and the Tenth captain reluctantly tore his attention away from the screen, needing to hear what the man had to say.

"About thirty one hours ago, when my subordinates first identified this presence, it's form, reaction and emission of spiritual particles wasn't too different to that of regular matters of Soul Society. With luck, we thought we could regulate its balance back to that of normal particles. But when a group of useless, sniveling underlings of my underlings went to search it out and retrieve it, it disappeared from our sights. Not only was the dispatched shinigami unable to witness its being and recover it, but we also lost it on this radar, too. It was like its strength just gave out on it, and it vanished. Just like that!"

The light on the screen certainly did look as though it might just flicker out at any moment. Toushiro, however, could not help get the feeling that Kurotsuchi was talking in an unnaturally forlorn way which reminded him of the times the crazy scientist let a specimen slip from his fingers or was restrained from dissecting something.

"But it hasn't…died, in any way," he said out loud, frowning slightly. "It's right here."

"Very true, thank you for pointing out the obvious," Kurotsuchi sniffed. "If you could kindly let me finish, a couple of hours after its initial disappearance, it resurfaced on the radar again. However, it was found…in a different location prior to its first appearance. It wasn't very far off, not in a distance that is impossible for either you or I can walk in two hours' time, but it seemed to have concealed itself to do so. Although no such example of a moving matter inconsistent with the rest of our world has been found yet, this one shows irrefutable evidence that it has, or can. It even leaves traces of its reiatsu, faint though it is, in its nearest vicinity that cannot be detected by this, but was once sensed by a search group! From what I can draw up from its behavior and the description of the members of the dispatched group (who wasn't even competent enough to figure out that the strange sense they were feeling was a spiritual presence until they got back. Of course I disciplined them when they did to make sure they won't commit such a folly again), the object is almost definitely a living being, that may have gotten missed or left behind when we moved Karakura city back into its original position in the material world."

Toushiro bit his lip. He could sense that trouble was staring at him in between the eyes.

"But that's impossible. I thought that it was made certain that everything that was in Karakura before it was transferred was kept inside when we transported it back!"

"Nothing is impossible, my small and narrow-minded friend. But I'll have you know that I do not usually miss such small details, if that was what you were implying had happened while you were half conscious with two limbs short. This is just an estimate, albeit an educated one, of my own. It's highly probable that this unfamiliar erupted from a completely different dimension other than earth, as so happens in our shifty world."

Understanding dawned on the younger of them. "It could be from Hueco Mundo. Certainly, although that world has been stripped of its major powers and lies in something akin to chaos right now, it would be imprudent to ignore it."

The scientist nodded. "Correct. So then our dear Captain-commander suggested that although its power seems weak and is not an immediate threat – at the moment – someone of a higher rank should go investigate it." Distaste lined his voice as Kurotsuchi narrowed his eyes, clearly upset that his own subordinates were being taken out of the examination. "And since you, Tenth Division Captain, have not gone on a field mission for so long, and seems to have recovered completely, it's only natural that you should be chosen for this task."

The beeping faltered once, its disturbed rhythm attracting the attention of both captains. The red mark seemed to dim for a moment, before flaring slightly again, and Toushiro may have imagined that its location had shifted a mite. "I see. And I'm just supposed to go out there and seek the presence's origin out, without any aid?"

A shrug was his answer. "We haven't gotten any samples of, well, anything of this unknown form yet, so even if we wanted to direct you we have nothing to work from. Your orders are to find this existence and, if possible, eradicate it from Soul Society. I trust that you have your communicating device with you, and you're welcome to contact the Research Station if you're in need of assistance."

A small, disgruntled sigh escaped from the white haired boy's lips, but as he turned to leave the lab to inform Matsumoto of this, Kurotsuchi called him back.

"Unfortunately, I'm too preoccupied with more pressing matters to dedicate myself on this case further, but frankly, you're also welcome to bring back the subject if you find it, and the Twelfth Division will take on full responsibility from there. We'll even tell the Captain-commander that you were able to terminate it."

Toushiro stopped once, turning his glittering emerald eyes towards the figure basked in the blinking computer light behind him.

"If my orders were to eliminate a possible danger from Soul Society and dispose it elsewhere then I will follow them. No other interference is needed. Good day, Twelfth Division Captain."

- X -

The sun was almost setting, a chilly breeze rocking the tree branches in the outskirts of Rukongai, under a sky which clouds were basked in a golden light. Toushiro twitched his haori around him, his frustration growing as he trudged through the shrubs in the depth of the forest. It had virtually been hours since he had set off from Seireitei, and although with his shunpo it had not been exceptionally far for him to cross the entirety of Rukongai, the searching had gone on long enough. The area which Karakura had been placed was back to its normal appearance, without a grass out of place, and in past missions finding any sort of discord in the peaceful landscape had apparently not been too difficult. But the site was huge, a few hundred acres by estimation, and with nothing at hand that could point him in the right direction of the faint, moving target, Toushiro was growing more and more restless.

He found himself in a meadow once he broke out of the thick cluster of trees, overlooking Rukongai from his vantage point of a hill. The grass grew wild here, as did many other organisms; he was careful to look out for snakes or any other of the sort where he stood. A large forest surrounded him on three sides except somewhere to the west where he could see the open sky, and in the distance, the pure white towers of Seireitei being basked in the golden light.

The slight wind picked up suddenly, rising until Toushiro could not hear anything but its roaring in his ears, and his quiet surroundings responded with equal volume, the shaking of the tree branches of the forest which rimmed the field he currently stood in almost deafening. The long grass that grew to his torso whipped him as they were bent almost double by the force of the gust, and the boy captain raised both arms to protect his face from flying particles of dust and dirt, eyes screwed shut. The back of his robes stuck to his body as the rest billowed in front of him, and he took discontented notice of his hair being ruffled in the same way. The setting winter sun wasn't exactly helping with the coolness that made Toushiro shiver; it beat around him with the breeze that swept over the field.

Carding a hand through his hair irritably, the captain considered going home for the day. In a few hours it was sure to become dark, and although the location was far from the outskirts of Rukongai and the residents should not be out here at this time, instances of rogue Hollows suddenly appearing in these distant places were countless. Besides, the temperature was dropping fast, and although the day had been cold, without the warm sun rays raining on him his teeth were starting to chatter. The reiatsu was too faint to search out anyway, he reasoned to himself, might as well retreat and regroup for tomorrow.

He had turned to go, to the direction the sun was setting in, when something moving near the trees came into his sight. Toushiro froze, frantically searching with his eyes inside the long grass, the darkness within the thicket and his sense of awareness spiked up immediately. A few seconds passed – there, behind the oak with the gnarled root. Something white shifting; too tall to be an animal, and something about the way the colour rippled reminded him of clothes. The boy tensed, crouching low as if the grass could be used as camouflage for his own white haori. A hand silently reached behind his back, feeling for the grip of Hyourinmaru. There was silence in the meadow.

Then the white thing moved, and Hyourinmaru was half out of his sheath before Toushiro realized that the figure – he could see it was human, now that it was out of the dimness – was stumbling, collapsing exhaustedly at the feet of the oak. Toushiro hesitated once, before hastily approaching the stranger, concern and wariness battling each other within him.

"Hey," he said softly, as he swept away the last of the long grass that obstructed his way and hurrying to the fallen figure which lay on his front. But that was as far as he got before his breath hitched and he could do nothing but stare, mouth still agape and beginning to form his next words.

He recognized that silver hair, so similar to his own. And those high cheeks. Those eyes which looked permanently shut to the rest of the world. That mouth which for all its crudeness and mischief, always curved into an elegant smile that set his heart beating faster.

Ichimaru Gin should be dead. He should have vanished as spiritual particles into the rest of Soul Society. Met his maker by the hands of Aizen.

And not by Toushiro, despite how many times he had vowed to do so before he went to sleep every night.

Time seemed to have stopped. Not a thing moved in the field or the forest or the sky, and it was just the boy and the toppled man at that moment.

The man who looked so alike to Ichimaru was wearing tattered robes, and Toushiro recognized them as the clothes he had been wearing on that day – though they were tattered and decidedly ruined, missing an arm and a leg in the cloth so that his stuck out, pale flesh grubby in the retreating sunlight. His face, or half of it which could be seen, was also streaked with dirt, scratched and tired-looking, and his hair didn't have the same silky texture or look, but was instead rather matted and stringy in places. He was also out cold.

But there was no doubt in Toushiro's mind that this was Ichimaru, his Ichimaru, who he didn't have time to say farewell properly during the battle, who he could only stare at defiantly between enemy lines as they faced off, unlike how stories were supposed to turn out between two star-crossed lovers. He couldn't even be there to see his demise, and the news of how it came to be reached him via Matsumoto, and he could only sit, shell-shocked, in that makeshift medical stand, too stunned to actually notice his vice-captain's own agonized expression and comfort her.

Perhaps the fact that he had not actually been there lead to his extended disbelief that Ichimaru was dead, and there was a time he had withdrawn into denial so much that he hadn't realized it until Matsumoto said to him one day, "Captain…please, stop it.", with such a pained voice. He snapped out of it after that.

And yet, here he stood, looking down on the sleeping figure of the man he thought had sacrificed himself, and only wonder could creep into his heart. Had Matsumoto been mistaken? Had he been lied to? But no, that wasn't possible. There was no way the Gotei Thirteen would overlook anything linked to a traitor.

But then again, no officials had been present except for Matsumoto at the time. So maybe, if she had a cause – if she thought that Ichimaru would be able to go free if she told them he had deceased…but Toushiro found that he couldn't believe that either. She wasn't the type, and he had seen firsthand how she had spent her days in grief for weeks after the battle.

All ringing warnings in his head ignored, the boy closed the last of the distance and dropped to his feet. The soil was hard and cold under his knees, and as Ichimaru lay face down on the protruding roots that were lifted distinctively from the ground, he was almost eye level with the body. Slowly, breathlessly, Toushiro reached out, shaking fingertips hovering over the sleeping head. They brushed a strand of hair, and Toushiro felt something in his chest hitch.

Matsumoto had not known that he and Ichimaru… or at least, she was not supposed to. But then he recalled the knowing smile she always had when she associated his tired sigh in the morning and occasional rub at the hips with the smugger-than-usual aura her friend since childhood emitted after weekends, and the way she enthusiastically ushered them to sit together at the restaurant "to get to know each other better" during drinking parties between the captains and their vice captains, and the consideration she occasionally showed in falling behind or pretending to take interest in something else when the two met and talked through the corridors. And the way she watched over him quietly, without ever voicing her own misery when the betrayal of three captains was discovered. And how she had been unusually disinterested with his affiliation with Kurosaki Ichigo, and had not been the normal excited bundle of hyperactivity and girl-forced him into meeting with the savior of Soul Society more. Almost as if she knew that things were moving on far too quickly for her captain, who was feeling like he would never move on again.

Ichimaru had been precious to her too. And that was more incentive for his carrying on with life than his own grief could ever have been.

He saw it all coming undone now, however, when he finally rested his palm on the man's cheek, softly running it down to his chin, then neck, and checking for a pulse. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the dirty face, which looked too tender and unaware than it ever did when Ichimaru was awake. So when the eyes slowly opened at his touch, revealing icy, glazed irises, he could only keep staring, watching with detached fascination as the man he had loved and hated came to.


And yes, I will continue dropping these author's notes because they give me something to do – at least until I can think up of one of those cool signature things other authors which actually has a sense of literature and the art of getting across the meaning with less words have.

Bleach the Musical is playing until the 31st here, I think – I usually just wait until someone uploads on Youtube because I'm such a poor kid XP and because I miss the original cast. TsuchixNagayan foreva!