Surge
By: WhisperedSilvers
Prompt: "I felt it too."
Summary: Rukia's almost-execution was the catalyst that caused the Soul Society to question what was right and what was wrong.
X
The Absence of Fear
He wouldn't lie; the feeling of rushing power that filled his lungs and his veins of his bankai was incredible. Ice covered more than half his body and he could feel Hyorinmaru purr in the confines of his mind, his tail curling around his waist—squeezing scales of electricity into his blood.
Smoke. It was black smoke, thick and profuse—his eyes watered. His lungs burnt, it was like a dry air that it tickled to back of his throat into a cough. Heat. Dry heat. Like a fireplace burning the bark of an oak tree, the type of dry heat that emitted from a fireplace that burned during a rainy storm, where the dampness in the air made the joints in your knees ache—where all you would do is curl up by the fire with a cup of hot tea.
But it was sunny and the sky was brighter than the ocean. Fire spouted from the earth like lava spewing from a volcano, bathing the ground in hell-red.
Hitsugaya opened his palm, thrusting his arm into the air; ice ropes grabbed the bird, tangling the coils into the demon's feathers.
The Itsumade screeched, the sound shattering his eardrums, it opened it's beak, whiter than snow and with the inhale fired balls of flames spinning like tops, blasting in red fire—not orange, blood red—so hot that it might vaporize him.
White. No, not white—it was a shade of white, lavender perhaps—gushed up, it was cold, freezing even, and he nearly melted at the ice—healing his scalded skin and disintegrating the fireballs with it's mist of ice. Teal orbs flickered down to see his dark-haired companion, her zanpakuto wavering on the ground like a silk ribbon.
She stared at him. Her eyes were determined, solid, and steadier than he's ever seen them, and it fills him with a rush of confidence, like a diamond that's been hardened under the intense pressure of the earth.
The Itsumade roared, spitting lava onto the ground where Rukia stood, it's wings fluttering like a maddening thing, the wind howled like a beast—tangling his ice wings—with his breath catching in his throat, a tornado of dust came tumbling towards him as the beak of the bird jackhammered the ground.
Hitsugaya had no control over the wind, the currents blasted his body like a rag doll and he found himself being pulled away from the smaller shinigami—horror etched into his stomach, as she was left to the Itsumade's mercy—it may have been a small, half-cut view—but he saw it. The earth quaked at the thrusting of the ground—it forced her back into a barricade of trees—trees that splintered into shards of bark and sawdust.
"RUKIA!" His scream prolonged with every ounce of breath he had left in his lungs. But the smoke was so thick that he choked on his breath—like an invisible string it pulled him into the river, his back collided with the had surface of the water, the welcoming sting was enough to snap him out of the fire that seemed to eat away at the forest.
His limbs were frozen, he couldn't move them—even as the sun, a yellow orb at the surface that reflected onto the silver ripples of the river glimmered brightly—his mind focused on the memory of Rukia being slammed into a tree—her eyes rolling back into the back of her head—
A choked gurgle escaped his lips as white bubbled foamed into the water, water? He was drowning, he was sure—he couldn't move his limbs? Why couldn't he move? How pathetic was he—the child prodigy taken down by a couple bursts of wind and tumbles into the water. His lungs were burning, but not with the heat or fire of the bird—burning with the cold icy feel of water—he needed air, why the hell couldn't he move?
The light was dimming, the sun was darkening and the water was getting colder—this wasn't a river. No it wasn't a river, it couldn't be—rivers weren't this deep, nor were they this cold.
Hitsugaya felt something curl around his waist, like a tail, it wasn't Hyorinmaru, his tail was ice—and ice floats. This tail, this tail is alive. With blood rushing through the flesh and muscle that augmented as the currents slammed into his body.
The muscle tightened against his waist and it yanked him downwards.
A gulp of water made its way into his mouth. He couldn't scream, for the fear of his lungs exploding and his heart bursting under the adrenaline. His back slammed into the floor of the river; the muscle pulled him down—
And suddenly he was sinking under the bedrock.
The tail pulled him under the floor of the river—inhaling he was inhaling too much water and black dots began to popup, clouding his vision, a buzz began to curl into his ears and then—blackness.
X
"Now Toushiro, I'm going to tell you a story—a true story that is." His grandmother said, her eyes crinkled as she took the stick and poked the fire—another log carelessly thrown into the heaping flame. Momo was asleep in the back of him, a mere ten feet away from the blazing fire.
He blinked obediently, "About what?"
"Why the Mizuchi of course, it's an ancient folklore," His grandmother started, "During the times of chaos the Mizuchi appears. He is a dragon—a water dragon. A real being, with blood and a heart beating through its flesh. He was said to rule a kingdom outside of the Soul Society, an ancient realm where the Gods themselves used to run about—they called it the Byakko Mountains."
"You have heard of Byakko, haven't you Toushiro?"
He nodded, silver hair tickling his forehead, "The Great White Tiger."
"Yes. Unlike Byakko who ruled the land, Mizuchi ruled the oceans—the waters. Mizuchi the water dragon was one of the original dragons that were created by the Gods themselves. Do not be fooled, the Mizuchi was not always a dragon, no; he was very much a man. Being blessed by the Gods could also have been called a burden; it was the Mizuchi's job to travel from back forth to the human world and spirit world. He reported to the Gods about the shinigami and the human's interactions between them."
"Like a messenger?"
She nodded, "Very much so. Not a soul has seen Byakko or the Mizuchi himself in years—decades to be precise. However, there is a rumor spreading across Rukon."
His silver eyebrows furrowed, "What rumor?"
"Apparently his previous partner was destroyed. Slaughtered actually. Decapitation. He was strong man too. Unnamed maybe, but powerful. The Mizuchi was in anguish at the fall of his partner, cursing those who murdered him—he killed them. He swallowed them whole, like the sea when a storm comes—vanquishing everything in sight."
"What happened to Mizuchi then?"
His grandmother stroked the hearth, "Many things. They say that the anguish of him losing his partner caused him to die. They say that a fire spirit swallowed him. Some say that he still lives in Byakko Mountains, protecting the waters of the mountain."
Hitsugaya furrowed his eyebrows, "And what do you think, Granny?"
The old woman cackled, "I always knew you were sharp, Toushiro." She ruffled his hair before grabbing her pipe, "I think the Mizuchi is in the Byakko Mountains."
He tilted his head, "Well, shouldn't he be? If the Mizuchi originated from the Byakko Mountains it is only natural that he goes back."
She inhaled the smoke, "And if he is without a partner?"
He shrugged, "Is it necessary to have a partner?"
Exhaling the smoke she grimaced, sharp charcoal eyes burnt black from the light of the fire, "That is an excellent question, Toushiro. But I would have to say yes. To establish a partner creates a medium in between souls and the world of the Gods. A shinigami is that bridge."
"A shinigami? The thing that Momo went to become?" Hitsugaya's eyes were wide, teal orbs nearly swallowed by his pupils.
"Yes."
It took a while for that notion to sink into his head; he struggled to ask, "Is that why Momo went to become a shinigami?"
Granny shook her head, "No. I do not know why Momo went to be a shinigami. The Mizuchi isn't anywhere near the Capital. He lives in the Byakko Mountains—those who have gone to Byakko, they never come out alive."
The fire crackled, sparks and heat flying in careless directions. The cracking of wood and the wind howling outside the house made the last sentence seem much more eerie than it was intended to be.
X
When Hitsugaya opened his eyes he could barely see the shadows of the water that swirled in the current. How strange, to see that he was still floating in the water, when he could've sworn he was pulled threw the flooring. His eyes widened, this wasn't the same rush of water he was pulled into.
He was breathing underwater.
This water was warmer and more ocean blue than storm blue. He inhaled sharply and he paused at the thought—how was he breathing under water? A silver flash caught the corner of his eye, quickly; he turned his head, nothing.
There was something in the water.
It was circling him and he couldn't make sense of what the thing was. A glimmer caught his eye—eyebrows furrowed. There it was again.
Suddenly he felt a rushing of water, it pulsed in his eardrums, and he was being pulled up—up above the surface, emerging like the sun from the night. Bubbles swarmed his vision and he felt faintly sick as the quick movements caused him nausea.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Rush.
Slide.
He gasped in the air when he broke the surface. He was in a cave, or at least it looked like a cave. There was a ceiling for one thing, it was dark and had groves like the spring but it wasn't the spring. The ceiling looked faintly like glass, he moved the climb out of the water, but something, something like a magnet pulled him down and he splashed back into the water.
Something didn't want him to leave.
He furrowed his brows, "What?"
"You learn quickly, ice-user." It was a voice, a deep vibrating and warm tenor that sent tremors up and down his spine.
Hitsugaya turned sharply and he found nothing. But the water started glowing, silver, glowing silver and he pulled back to watch whatever the hell it was—surface.
It was huge; he could tell that thing was going to be huge.
It was a dragon. With silver scales and glowing aqua orbs—the same color of his eyes. His snout was long and rounded, with whiskers that were dripping with water and it wavered in the air like ribbons. He was bigger than Hyorinmaru, his tail curled around the area and tripled over in a coil sliding and sliding around like a top.
"The Mizuchi," Hitsugaya breathed, his eyes widening with every scale that glittered emerald and reflected sapphire. A shiver so violent, it nearly cracked his spine, every pore on his skin became hypersensitive.
Too many things were happening at the same time.
His wasn't expressive, his face was blank and it was hard to read the creature in front of him.
"Oh? So you know who I am. How intriguing." He spoke, but his mouth didn't open, it was like a connection—a mental connection.
There were things in this world that many people in The World of the Living and even those who are souls in the Soul Society did not understand. The concept of shinigamis and the fact that they are in fact a god, but more of a demi-god than anything else—however, they could still die, even though they were in fact, dead. Shinigamis are the bridge between The World of the Living and death itself. But there are Gods, real Gods that create and control those of different levels of death that create this bridge between life and death. Souls, souls are something intangible and they are something you need in order to function.
Within the levels of death, at the highest peak or step for that matter, was where the Gods reside—the actual real-life Gods live. According to his grandmother, the Gods used to reside in Byakko Mountains, having figured that there were different hierarchies of death—they needed to reside elsewhere, for instance, another realm.
But there was a real God—a real God in front of him, in the medium of where the ethereal live and those who protect the living.
Hitsugaya hesitated when he asked cautiously, "Did you pull me down?"
"Yes,"
He didn't realize the burning question left his lips until he heard it, "Why?"
Hitsugaya could see the contracting muscles in his being. He was a real being. Breathing and with blood flowing in his flesh. A real dragon. That's what he was and he couldn't seem to comprehend that fact, because he was still trying to convince himself that, yes, this really was happening and no matter how many times he repeats himself—it didn't change.
"Your essence," He paused, "Is compatible to mine."
Hitsugaya dared not breathe.
He could feel it. It was like a knot in his chest. A clot that needed bursting; suffocation—the dragon's spiritual pressure was more potent than Captain Zaraki's and Head-Captain Yamamoto's reiatsu—combined. His knees were weakening—which didn't make sense, from his shoulders down; he was submerged in the water.
The ice-user would never admit it, not even to himself—he swallowed thickly. Suffocating, he was suffocating, but that cool and composed mask of his—it didn't waver. He did not allow it.
The Mizuchi spoke, "Hyorinmaru, awaken."
His zanpakuto manifested in a fraction of a second, the man with blue hair, long and wild as the meadows of Byakko Mountains, kneeled in front of the dragon—the snow-haired captain stiffened.
He was visibly startled.
Hyorinmaru only obeyed to his command—yet, yet there he was, before the older dragon, on his knees.
"Honored Mizuchi, it is a privilege to be graced with your presence," Hyorinmaru said humbly, Hitsugaya watched with wide eyes and dread quickly filled his stomach.
"At ease, Hyorinmaru."
Hitsugaya stumbled on his words, "Hyorinmaru, what—"
The Mizuchi interrupted his sentence, "Hyorinmaru is a servant of a mine, he hails from the arctic, and he is an excellent warrior."
It was hard to breathe.
"Master," His zanpakuto faced him, "Lord Mizuchi is the ruler of all dragons that have roamed the world, those in the World of the Living and those of other realms. He is the God of all Dragons."
Captain Hitsugaya couldn't even wrap his head around the word—God.
God of a god.
"What is it that you want from me?"
"Boy, have you ever tasted ice?"
What kind of question was that?
Blinking, he looked at him with wide eyes, "What?"
"Ice, from your zanpakuto." He elaborated.
Snowy eyebrows screwed together, he never fathomed the thought of placing ice from his zanpakuto into his mouth. It seemed wrong. It was from Hyorinmaru. His essence and it didn't seem plausible.
The Mizuchi continued regardless of not being answered, "Have you ever been complete with Hyorinmaru? Where the ice would freeze your cells and you can feel his reiatsu pumping in your own soul?"
Hitsugaya's pauses in between breaths felt like it was choking him with a gravitational pull, "My bankai allows half of my body to be covered in ice."
"What about your soul, have you ever fully merged with your zanpakuto?"
He grimaced. He'd never thought of ever merging with his zanpakuto, he assumed that his bankai was the highest achievement that he could ever attain with his zanpakuto—apparently, he was wrong.
"I see," It sounded like disappointment and the snow-captain refused to flinch.
The water was getting colder and he could feel the frost nip his skin. Is this how he was going to die? He couldn't fight the God of all dragons and win—preposterous. Hyorinmaru was by his side and he didn't understand—would he abandon him too?
Even if his mind refused to acknowledge his fear—his body was another entity altogether.
His hands were trembling, Gods, his hands were trembling.
The silver of his scales glimmered even in the dark cave, it was circling him faster and the Mizuchi was closer—moving closer to him and he stiffened.
"I have bonded with your essence, boy."
"What do you mean by bonded?" He asked, his voice was calm, but his stomach was in knots, "As in…partners?"
"You are not my partner," The Mizuchi hissed, Hitsugaya flinched and he became almost rigid when he felt his icy breath wash onto his being, because that's how close he was—close enough for him to open his mouth and devour him.
"Then why have you chosen to bond with me?"
He was bold, the God would give him that—he demanded answers and the dragon wondered if—if he was the one.
"You are the epitome of a dragon. You are ice, burning and cold—not pure as the other one who was here—"
The Mizuchi watched as Hitsugaya's mouth curled into something that was snarl, his eyes narrowing—defensive.
"—you have the ability to rule, to govern—to take everything. You will take everything. I have been without someone who was equal for some time now—you shall be my legacy."
Hitsugaya could barely comprehend what was going on. Here, he was imprinted on as the Mizuchi's equal, he was pressuring him into feeling this type of suffocation, otherwise known as fear—was he making him feel fear or was he, himself, terrified.
To distinguish whether fear that was thrusted upon you or to have the knowledge of being aware of that you are honest, to the Gods above, terrified was a feat on it's own.
But he would have to swallow his fear, he would have to move and move on.
The picture of Rukia, her back slamming into a tree and blood staining her teeth, dribbling down the corner of the mouth had the air in his lungs seem heavier and denser than the irrational terror that wanted to cloud him.
The surge was the source of all his problems. The only time he'd ever feel such mind-numbing terrifying fear was when Momo was attacked by Aizen and he felt blood-lust curl into his system like poison.
But it was different. Rukia, he could feel Rukia. He could feel her fear, he could feel her anxiety, he could feel her despair—he could feel her misery. But she was so far away that—why weren't his wrists burning?
Whenever he is separated from Rukia for an ex amount of time—he is vulnerable to reiatsu burns. It was for that sole reason alone, that she moved in with him. Absent-mindedly he brushed his thumb around the scar of his reiatsu burn, "How did you," He swallowed, "Stop my connection?"
The Mizuchi, seeming to understand his unclear question, fell back a few inches to exhale, the air sparkled frost and it chilled the walls into glass.
"There is an electrical current that is running in your soul. It has nothing to do with your zanpakuto or your abilities to wield ice. This current bonds you with another soul that is compatible not only to your reiatsu, but to your soul as well." The Mizuchi paused and his gaze lowered towards the snow-captain's gut, "It was only a matter of isolating your reiatsu from your reiryoku. When combined with the electrical current, the overall spiritual pressure is unstable."
It was a simple explanation and it bothered Hitsugaya at how easily the Mizuchi could read him.
But he could still feel her.
Not burning—reiatsu not burning and he needed to think.
It was like a white heat that trickled the back of his mind, it sizzled and there were imprints of black spots flickering in his left eyes for a few seconds, the cornea itching—he refused to twitch.
It was that small bit of discomfort that pulled him from his thoughts of him and focused on the main reason he was in this situation.
Rukia needed him and the desperation to see her was greater than the bravery he needed.
"I shall make this quick," The Mizuchi continued, he eyed his barely conscious twitching hands, "You are quite impatient, boy." His opaque orbs flickered to Hyorinmaru who was still kneeling, "We will discuss this…situation another time. For the time being, your body is not suitable for my spiritual pressure. Unlike the other spirits that wander the Byakko Mountains, they merge their souls—I on the other hand," His eyes narrowed, "Merge with your soul and reiatsu."
Hitsugaya spoke coolly, he numbed his terror into logic, "What do you mean my body isn't suitable?"
For one thing, it didn't sound good.
"You're stature is to small and your reserves are as nearly as big as I require them to be."
Insulted.
He felt insulted.
"Nevertheless, I shall fix this…miscalculation."
Hitsugaya wasn't fast enough to open his mouth and inquire just what the hell—because a bright light invaded his sight, he winced at the strain and he felt as if something was choking him. It was twisting around his neck and he couldn't see just what was curling around his neck—air, he needed air and he was gasping.
He felt it again. Fear. That mind-numbing, heart-stopping, adrenaline-pumping substance that was known as, fear.
He clawed at his neck, trying to remove the chokehold—
Was this the end of the great Captain Hitsugaya?
But then it was blinding him, the light suddenly got brighter and he couldn't remember how to close his eyes. His heart was thrumming in his ears and he still couldn't breathe—
It was dark now and he was underwater—breathing underwater and he couldn't see, but he could feel the bubbles swarm in the currents. It was cold now; bitter ice crept into his fingers. His eyes had yet adjusted to the abrupt change in light, he blinked rapidly and tried to speak, but water clogged his throat. Teal orbs brightened and he felt himself burning in the frosty water.
His legs, his arms, and his back—everything was burning. The Mizuchi's tail glittered silver in the black water, swirling like a shark, burning—burning cold. Blisteringly cold and then he felt that fear again—immobilize. Fear. He remembered again. He had to move, because that picture was replaying like a tape, Rukia—slamming into a tree—blood—crimson blood and he couldn't be scared—he would not—
Buzzing, his ears were buzzing and it was like he was being stretched into an impossible angle.
He couldn't think.
But then he felt something—something shatter and then expand like plastic.
Then something crackled in the back of his mind—he could barely hear his own breathing, because now his vision was tunneling into a white that burned like the sun.
Silence.
Hitsugaya woke to the sound of the birds chirping and the sun setting. It was a bloody orange and a cold gold that filtered the sky in cotton threads. Purple splotches that looked more like bruises than actual flowers.
Sunset.
It was getting dark—
Rukia.
He stiffened.
Where the hell was Rukia?
He wasn't in the water anymore; he was on the grass that was scorched with shades of charcoal. The Itsumade. He stiffened, where the hell was the Itsumade? He saw nothing. Only the remains of the fire and the burnt branches of the trees that fell from the battle—he crunched his abdominals and sat up.
The Mizuchi?
Where the hell was the Mizuchi—he swallowed, it felt to real to be a hallucination, because his hair was still damp and even with his sodden clothes—the wind dried the water quite quickly, thus proving that he was indeed submerged at one point today.
But had yet had a proper explanation—which meant, that there were so many more questions that needed to be answered, than he desired.
Rukia.
Rukia was his number priority and he to find her—now.
She couldn't leave because she didn't know how to leave.
For one thing, he noticed that his pants were ripped, they reached five inches above his knees and the sleeves of his kimono were more like a vest, because they reached under his shoulders—he shook his head, his clothes should be the lesser problem.
His shoes didn't fit anymore, so he ripped them off and like silk threads weaved by a spider, he allowed his reiatsu to search for her—right there.
It was faint, like a glimmer of silver and warmer than the sunlight on a winter day. But then it was gone. It vanished from right underneath his tongue—shit.
She was right there and he almost pinpointed her location—then she disappeared. He silently hissed out a curse, because her presence just evaporated and dammit, he was back to the beginning.
The hunt begun and somewhere, there was a wolf that howled.
Rukia was ardently searching for Captain Hitsugaya, she was in the mountains now, and the wind was arid and crisp like a whip. It stung the capillaries in her nose; she used a piece of her kimono sleeve to cover the lower part of her nose and mouth. She had been searching for hours and it really bothered her that she couldn't even sense him. She wasn't vain, by any means, but she was pretty damn amazing in Kido—which meant that she was pretty damn amazing in reiatsu sensing.
She had searched the forests, the lake, and even the cave where the spring lay—she couldn't sense him anywhere. It was getting dark. The sun was setting and the wind was getting colder. Dangerous temperatures meant dangerous times.
The clouds were darker now, royal purple and golden soot. It was rich like turmeric and the wild blues collided like the earth and heaven. It glittered unevenly against the arid, white mountains, smoke fainter and greyer than slate, because that's how low the clouds were.
She didn't know if he would be in this mountain—the second floor of the complex landmark that was known as the Byakko Mountains. She had to try, because he could be anywhere, which left possibilities, multiple possibilities—too many choices and too many options.
The air whistled again, burning the skin of her shoulder and it didn't feel cold. It stung because it was sharp like a whip, but as soon as it came, it left. The higher she moved, the drier the air became and she wondered how long would it take for her nose to start bleeding.
Inhale.
She coughed.
Exhale.
Patience.
It was something she excelled in.
The steady drops of water that fell from cliffs were conditioned to be soothing and tranquil. But this was between a life and death matter. Between what was knowing and not knowing, both dangerous and both incomprehensive. It bothered her, that much she knew because she couldn't stop her fingers from twitching, because she couldn't stop thinking and because she could still remember the silent warning he had given her earlier.
Spirits lurk in the mountains.
Not all are good and not all are bad.
The rocks crunched her feet and she decided she didn't care if all the yokai in the world decided to make her acquaintance. Forget the reiatsu trail, forget the dangerous spirits that lurked in the mountains—she couldn't go this slow anymore.
It was excruciating.
She had to find him and get the hell out of here—because it was getting closer and closer to dusk and the struggle to get the out of here was more than tangible.
Her ankle slid towards the front in a defensive position and then her other ankle twisted up—using shunpo she began to speed up the trails of the mountain. The cloth covering her nose and her mouth eased the sting of the dry air—faster. She had to move faster.
She couldn't sense anything!
The rocks were jagged with blunt tops, smoothened with sand and she's leaping from one ledge to the other. If she could acquire a topographic map of what the terrain looked like, she could eliminate the sections she's already been to.
Faster.
Rukia came to an abrupt stop. Something she felt something. Her fingers twitched. It wasn't reiatsu—she couldn't feel any reiatsu. Nothing. But there was something that made the hair on the back of her neck stand.
She could feel Akari's tail curl around her neck, even without it physically being there. The small trinket shaped in the form of a small, silver fox that dangled from the handle of her zanpakuto was enough indication to comprehend that he was with her, just as Sode no Shirayuki was.
Wrong. Something's wrong, Sode no Shirayuki murmured. There is something there.
I don't sense anything.
Reiatsu is more spiritual than physical. Akari pointed out, what you're sensing is a resemblance of a soul.
Rukia frowned. It was like a presence, that inkling of knowing that something is there—not being able to see it was like blind faith. She slowed her running—can't see anything—didn't see anything, where-?
It was an ear-shattering roar. The mountains were trembling, groaning and the earth shook in the fissures of waves. Rukia leapt to a higher shard of rock and she caught the color of burned wood from the corner of her eye, she ducked and the air hummed.
Turning her head she was faced with the animal or was it a monster? Because it resembled something she had seen in the World of the Living—dark fur and short, stumpy arms and legs—eyes wilder than the empty orbs of those known as hollows. But it was screaming and she was sure her ears were bleeding and she had to think—Gods she had to think.
He came at her and this time she used Kido, "Bakudo number one: Sai!"
It was the weirdest thing she's even seen, because he ducks underneath her spell, the kido slamming into the mountain, and he swipes his arm left—cut scratching the side of her left cheek. A thin line of red marred onto her face and she's so close to the beast—she momentarily freezes until she blinks, breaking the spell and moves—it was like she was channeling Sode no Shirayuki because she opened her mouth and it was missiles of ice crystals that flew—he dodged and it forced him back a few feet.
Focus Rukia!
Sode no Shirayuki was so demanding when she wanted to be.
But how the hell did it dodge her Kido—much less her Bakudo, she understood dodging hadō—but Bakudo?
Rukia unsheathed her zanpakuto, keeping it sealed she slammed it towards his hands, almost instantly, he slid sideways, the zanpakuto cutting nothing but air and her eyes widened—
What the hell?
She almost didn't dodge the oncoming strike of its elbow.
It wasn't human, nor did it have any resemblance to having a conscience, but it was too damn smart to be just a monster.
Rukia knew the damn demon looked familiar and then her eyes hardened into almost royal purple. She remembered now. Ichigo had taken her to the zoo one time with his sisters. It was called an Ape. It was strange; she had never seen something like it before. It was an entire beast on it's own, vaguely she could recall Ichigo telling her that, that animal is the closest being on earth that is related to the human species—intelligence was a given.
Shit.
She was fighting something with something of human reflexes.
"Dance: Sode no Shirayuki, Tsukishiro!" She visibly scowled when the animals' leg was only a fraction inside the circle. She used the remaining of the pillars to shift her weight into the air, sliding left and right she slammed her zanpakuto and his sharp claws caught the stinging metal with a shrieking hiss.
She didn't need to call out the names of her dances anymore, it saved time and she moved faster. Unseal and move—the clang of metal against his claws was matched perfectly—why the hell couldn't she land a damn blow?
The beast was blocking her hits seamlessly. The sun was setting. Orange glowed like candlelight in whickered baskets of the soil and the gold glimmered the wheat like coils of metal. The rock beneath her feet began to look more and more like soil—dark and gritty, brittle and loose.
Time.
She was running out of time.
He was still out there and she needed to bring this fight to an end.
The animal slammed his hand against her stomach and she coughed—eyes widening, blood dribbled down her chin. She flew back, smashing into the rock walls and her head spun from the force of the blow. Her stomach lurched uncomfortably and she tried to breathe—
But the beast was in front of her—smiling with his damn teeth, sharper than knives and his eyes were like two coals and she needed to move—she rolled over and pointed her zanpakuto up and—as if he knew what she was doing—he slammed his fist into the side of calf and she felt something break.
Hoping to stun her long enough so she could pause her attack, even if it was just for a moment he would be able to finish her off.
Her mind wasn't working because all she could feel was pure, unadulterated pain shoot up from her calf to her knee and left side of her body. So she screamed—because it was agonizing and burning, blood began to splatter from the pressure that he was still placing onto her crushed bone—
"Akari—manifest!" Rukia cried out and the trinket from her zanpakuto emerged into a silver blur of colors. The kitsune growled and he used his claws—to swipe at the animal and burn him with black ice—?
The animal yelped and pulled back as if he were burnt.
"Mistress!" Akari cried out, "Don't move!" He walked towards her, he began to lick the blood from her raw flesh and she sighed because he was mending her bones—healing her and she needed to rid of this blinding pain!
Stars clotted her eyes and she blinked hard to destroy her weary and tired state. Her leg was healed and the side of her left kimono pants was destroyed. With one leg bare and the other covered, she stood up and took a stance.
The animal seemingly furious, charged at her and for a brief moment she felt an inkling of fear, fear won't help—fear will strike you down.
But she was hard and determined. Hitsugaya was somewhere out there and she needed to get to him—damn this beast. She stroke the air deliberately, her mind blanked out and she managed to catch him off guard—she slit the side of his ribs, blood dripping off her zanpakuto.
Akari manifested back into her trinket that dangled at her handle.
He howled—his claws scraped neck and down towards her clavicle. She fell to the ground with an inaudible yelp. Stars again clotted her vision, she saw him with eyes of coal and he walked towards her, slowly, almost tauntingly. She saw her blood on his claws—
Ice curled around her hips and she was yanked into the air. Mauve-colored orbs widened in shock, but the ice crumbled like crushed snow and suddenly she was air-borne. A small cry left her mouth, when she saw the sky get smaller and smaller as she pulled down and strong arms grabbed her from underneath her waist and the other tucked under arms.
His hair was brighter than snow and his teeth were curled into a snarl at the beast. But it was his eyes that had her breathing stop. They were crystal. Crystal blue and she could the multiple facets that glimmered almost eerily off of his eyes, because they reflected a different shade of light and he was in his bankai mode and his eyes weren't glowing teal—
"Captain Hitsugaya!" Rukia finally snapped out of her surprised, yet fascinated gaze, "What are you—how did you," She shook her head, ridding her thoughts of all questions—she did not have the time to ask him such questions, "Are you okay?"
Hitsugaya looked down at her, with his bangs brushing the sides of his forehead, his hard angular jaw clenching and unclenching, his eyes—she could stare at those eyes forever and wonder just how in the world—
Her hair was long; it brushed the sides of her breasts and tumbled down the back of her shoulders towards the tips of her back ribs. It was matted with stale sweat; it shimmered like blue-black in the golden sun, a healthy glow filtered onto her cheeks. She had a thick cut on the side of her cheek and dried blood on the corner of her cheek. Her clothing looked like it was bit in pieces, but her eyes were clear and wide.
"I'm fine," He assured her, his voice was warmer, rougher and he turned his head back towards the animal. His wings were deeper and shaded with different tints of aqua—but there was something different—something stronger, "That is a Satori."
Her eyebrows screwed together, her hands grasped his shoulders and she was promptly confused as to why his sleeves were—sleeveless, but she was gripping onto hard muscle and the ice was like the sun that chilled her spine. "I assumed it was an ape, I saw one when I was in the World of the Living. It was a bit different than I remembered—"
He cut in, "You aren't wrong. It is in ape. But this is Byakko's reign, animals here, they have different rules—the Satori can read minds."
He knew her eyes widened without even having to look at her, she replied with incredulity, "How do we fight something that can read our every move?"
Hitsugaya sighed, he looked at her tiredly, those crystal orbs of his glinted like diamonds, "Honestly, Rukia—I thought you of all people would understand."
He was speaking like Ichigo and she had to remind herself that this was a Captain, she couldn't just hit him, so she scowled, "Understand what?"
"The solution."
Rukia gritted her teeth, "Which is?"
But he smirked at her, vicious and dangerous. She refused to swallow and show her intimidation. His teeth were sharp and white—pink lips that curled – feral. "To not think."
She blinked.
Not think?
Akari that was back into the trinket that dangled onto her zanpakuto snorted warm heat in her mind—that is one slick bastard.
Sode no Shirayuki chuckled.
The Satori threw boulders with his bare hands and he hissed when it flew to close to his cheek, on reflex he curled her small body closer to his inner shoulder and slid to the left, he breathed, "I usually abhor this type of fighting style, the substitute uses it recklessly—"
Lilac-orbs flashed.
"Instinct," She breathed, "Fight on instinct," Frowning at his approving half-smile, "Isn't that a bit hasty? To blindly rush into a fight?"
"Normally, yes. But under the current circumstances, we have no choice."
Rukia sighed, "Alright put me down, I have an idea."
Hitsugaya looked at her, eyes narrowed, "He will destroy you."
She looked at him dryly, "I've spent a lot of time with Ichigo. Trust me when I say I've picked up quite a few things during the extent of my stay with him."
He looked at her curiously, he gripped her tighter and his wings cut the air like knives he placed her onto the ground and the ape was furious that his prey had resulted in ignoring him.
"Seeing that I can't fly," Rukia started, "You will take care of the aerial strikes, if he is distracted long enough I can get a clean strike."
"He can't handle us at two different directions." He understood, it was a bit of pride that leaked into his voice and he had to wonder as to why he felt pride?
"Exactly,"
Rukia rushed forward, her hand tight on her the hilt of her zanpakuto, she swiped the air left and then she switched right—the swipe cutting into the flesh near its rib. Hitsugaya pulled his hand back and trudged forward. Ice in vines, curled into the animal and she snarled, "San no mai, Shirafune."
Sode no Shirayuki's blade is embedded into his stomach, ice clotting the wound covering him in ice and she yanks her blade out. Ice glittering in the sun. He shattered.
She was breathing hard. That attack took a lot out of her. Her leg was fine; Akari healed it. But she still had a bruised stomach and a possible concussion. Hitsugaya swooped down and grabbed her again.
Rukia squeaked at the sudden movement, she quickly placed her hands on his shoulders, using it to sit up straight and question him with her eyes. "What is it?"
The sun had set. It was darker, with cotton-threaded shades of indigo and the moon was pale in the peach sky. It was warm breeze that caressed the rather stinging cut on her left cheek, her hair warmed like chestnut in the sunlight. If Hitsugaya looked at her close enough, he could count the dark strands that were bathed in the glowing sky.
"Let's get the hell out of here," He exhaled, his eyes closed for the briefest moment and then he opened them again. Glacier crystal his eyes were, he set off to the place where they entered—they could get lost for an eternity in here if they didn't make it till it turned nightfall.
Rukia was about to object, saying that she had two legs and she could walk—but she couldn't fly. So her hands curled into his shoulders tighter, he looked at her and she looked down.
It was like something of a picture book. The trees, the flowers, the wheat, the river—the mountains. It looked surreal and it was hard to believe that she was in a place—like this.
Which reminded her, "Where were you? I couldn't sense you anywhere."
Hitsugaya replied swiftly, "The Mountains are made out of sekkiseki, you can't sense anything from there—I only found you because I heard you screaming."
She grimaced.
"You're not hurt, are you?"
He still didn't answer her question, "I'm fine." A pause, "After I killed the Itsumade, you disappeared—where did you go?"
His grip on her tightened, "Later. It's a long story."
She nodded.
"Try and get some rest. I'll wake you when we are outside."
Rukia flickered her eyes up, but he was looking straight a head. She couldn't read his face, something in her loosened. She was exhausted to say at least, she closed her eyes and willed herself to sleep.
X
"Rukia? Rukia. Rukia!"
She awoke to her name, which was spoken in various tones of voice. Her head was resting underneath his chin, leaning onto his collarbone and chest. She could barely feel the underside of her knees and her waist, which was now slightly warmer than she remembered.
"We're in the forest of Rukon. It's about a couple more miles before we return to walls of the Seireitei." Hitsugaya's eyes were teal again and not crystal, but he was so close to her that if she blinked, her eyelashes would brush his. She suddenly remembered that she was still in his arms, being carried like an injured warrior. She flushed despite herself and hurried out of his arms.
She mumbled a quick apology and straightened up. Rukia turned her head to face him and thank her, but her head barely brushed the top of his ribs. Frowning, she tilted her head up to see him tower of her.
What.
She wasn't aware that she had spoken that aloud, so she blankly blurted, "What the hell."
He blinked, tilting his head down to face her.
He blinked again.
Then it clicked.
His torn clothes weren't a result of his battle or confrontation, but his growth spurt. The Mizuchi did say his body wasn't suited for his reiatsu—apparently this is what he meant.
"Huh."
A moment of incredulity passed.
Rukia very nearly gaped, "Why did you grow and I didn't?" She grasped her hair with frustration, "You get nearly three feet of extra height, and what do I get? Hair—I get hair."
Despite the absurdity of the situation—
Hitsugaya laughed.
And suddenly the world felt a whole lot brighter.
I don't like this chapter—Hitsugaya is so hard to write, holy crap. Updates will be hella' lot slower because my semester starts next week. And I write roughly 25-30 pages worth of a chapter.
Satori: An ape that can read minds.
The Mizuchi will have a thorough explanation and the kitsune as well in the next chapter. Ichigo will be popping up soon.
I also wrote a oneshot called, "In Terms of Comfort," which is a snippet of this story around chapter ten—which hasn't been posted nor written :'D
Heh.
Please Review!