The Arrancar Wars

Volume One: Let There Be War

Chapter 4

Slipping out of Seireitei was child's play for Hitsugaya, even when his mind was far from his set task. His first task was to slip from Seireitei itself. It wasn't difficult; he'd done it often enough in the past. The hardest part was ensuring that no one sensed him leaving, which left him to the task of skulking along in shadows and using the skills and talents he'd learned from Soifon and years of living in the Rukongai. This, too, he'd done before, hundreds of times. The only difference was that now he was actively masking himself from his fellow taichou's and the soutaichou as well.

It was only to be expected, since he was already deviating from the plan he'd outlined to them.

He couldn't risk using the senkaimon to get to Hueco Mundo—that would be exposing his intentions far too openly. Instead he was taking his time making his way outward from the central districts of the Rukongai, not daring to use shunpo until he'd left even the 80th district of the northern range long behind. Once he passed even the areas where he'd once trained his bankai, Hitsugaya began to relax minutely as he considered his next step.

Traveling directly from Soul Society to Hueco Mundo was an option, but since he wasn't entirely sure the reaction would be to his attempt at garganta. He knew that shinigami could perform it, so long as they had enough reiatsu and were proficient with kido. He was; not a master as Ise-fukutaichou, or even Hinamori, but he knew enough kido to have passed his captain's exam. He knew he could create the rip, he was simply unsure of how to handle it if the energies he drew on unbalanced those in Soul Society and brought unwanted attention, despite the distances he'd traveled.

So his first task was to insinuate himself back to the mortal world, and to do so he would have to use a forbidden technique.

Oddly enough, the idea of performing the displacement kido didn't bother Hitsugaya nearly as much as he'd thought, especially when one considered that he'd learned it from an exiled soul. Of course, given the enormity of what he was about to do, he supposed that there was nothing wrong with that reaction. He settled to the ground, his reiatsu fleeting around his feet as he dropped out of shunpo, before focusing once more, this time forming his reiatsu into a tight spear of energy as he snapped, "Kukanten'i."

The effect was instantaneous, but his focus didn't waver even at the strange sensation across his skin. It felt like ants crawling across him, the sharp burning points like their bites where the kido picked at him even as it swirled about him. From the darkness of the wilderness beyond the Rukongai Hitsugaya found the utter black of the moments he was within the displacement spell to be unnerving. If he failed then he would be worse than dead, he would be lost forever in this infinite blackness, to this skin prickling feeling, to this eternal limbo.

His mental discomfort vanished the moment Hitsugaya realized that he was falling prey to a negative loop of thought. The sight of lights and almost familiar buildings was a reassurance that he didn't appreciate as the kido placed him in an alleyway. It wasn't Karakura Town; Hitsugaya knew better than to try and find his way to Hueco Mundo from such a well monitored place. The basement at the Urahara Shop was the only place there where he knew it might be done and not learned of, and he certainly wasn't going to bother with breaking and entering when he could simply go elsewhere as easily. Easier, really.

It was a heavily shadowed alley, the only thing present a dying cat whose ribs showed prominently through what was left of its fur. Hitsugaya ignored it as he gathered his reiatsu once more. This time, he wouldn't work alone. Despite the painful history they had, Hitsugaya and Hyourinmaru were closer than most shinigami were to the zanpakuto. He assumed it was because of the zanpakuto's very nature—elemental and more of a mirror than a partner. He felt the dragon uncoiling within his mind, and he struck out, slicing into the air in front of him.

It didn't work as it would for the Espada, or even for Urahara Kisuke, but it did work. The gash he dealt the veil between the worlds was ragged, more than a single slice with a well honed katana could explain, but he didn't question the flapping pieces of two realities, merely brushed them to the side as he slipped through quickly and silently. Hyourinmaru was wrapped within his liquid sheathe once more, a reassuring pressure against his back, and the colder comfort of the short tanto that sat low on his back against his skin and the familiar weight at his hips that were the leathern shuriken cases, each holding half a dozen.

He hoped that he wouldn't need more to gain Aizen.

It had struck him as odd, six years ago when the invasion attempt to Las Noches had been launched, that such an unforgiving desert wouldn't be hot. Nor was there a lack of water, with the atmosphere thick for those who could draw upon it. He could, and Hitsugaya leaned into his zanpakuto's strength to save his own as he created a pathway of ice and slid easily along it in the direction he knew Aizen's fortress to be.

Fast, efficient; they were two words that Hitsugaya was trying to associate with this part of his mission. He was quick enough, silent but for the slip of ice beneath his waraji. The straw buffered much of the sound but Hitsugaya was still careful as he drew closer to the white fortress.

He could see the changes that told him without a doubt that Aizen had taken up residence once more. Even from the distance he was at, the arrancar patrolling the sands beyond it were visible. Without much cover he was going to have a difficult time making it inside Las Noches, but he could compensate. He would have to; there was no other choice.

The ice melted away as he leapt nimbly from it to crouch behind a dune, observing the paths he might take. It was ironic, he thought, that the front gate was the least guarded. But after the successful attempts to sneak into the stronghold Hitsugaya supposed it made sense to safeguard the routes of highest subterfuge. At least if someone was attempting entry there they would be easily visible. Or so the new arrancar thought.

There were five between him and the white rock of the entry, but Hitsugaya had no fears on how to handle them. From their ambient reiatsu, he knew they were low ranking arrancar patrolling on the outskirts of the fortress. If he were quick enough they would never know he was there until they found the bodies of their comrades.

Without thinking twice Hitsugaya ghosted down the dune and up the next, eyes arrowing in on his first target in the dip between this dune and the next. Hyourinmaru was overkill for this; his fingers slid along his waist beneath his white haori until his fingers closed about the cold steel grip of the tanto there. He drew it with little more than a whispering rasp of sharpened steel against its ray skin sheathe, and then let it slip through his fingers as he flipped it so that the blade lay flat against his wrist and up his forearm.

The sharpened edge was near to him, and when Hitsugaya slipped closer, crouched close to the pale sand, using his seize to his advantage, the arrancar never realized he was there until Hitsugaya rose behind him, his left hand reaching up to seize that arrancar's hair and pull his head pack exposing his throat. The remaining mask along its chin proved less than problematic, and Hitsugaya set the blade's edge to pale skin before drawing it sharply across. He rode the body down, knee against its back, to land lightly atop it. He didn't even have a single spot of blood on him, thought the tanto was gored halfway through its blade.

It took only minutes, and Hitsugaya had already dispatched one of the five in utter silence.

He didn't pause for a moment, not even to savor the triumph. He could remember how difficult it had been when he faced his first arrancar. It wasn't even an Espada, and though part of it was his own fault from overconfidence, at the time he'd needed to request permission to release his limiter. Whatever level this arrancar was, subterfuge had negated anything that he might have needed to do that first time, or any time since.

He moved like a pale shadow across two more dunes until he found his next quarry, though there were two talking together. When he'd seen them last they'd been distant enough that he'd hoped he might be able to play the same trick as before, but their new proximity made that impossible. He knelt behind the edge of the dune, plunging the tanto into the sand before searching out his shuriken holsters. These, too, were ray skin, and there was only the smooth slide of metal on metal as he drew four, two from either side.

His fingers bled cold and the edges of the metal glinted as ice coated them. It was sharper than the metal could ever be honed, but Hitsugaya only cared that the ice would prevent them from alerting anyone. They were flung to devastating effect on the unsuspecting arrancar; one took both of his directly in the side of his throat, turning his esophagus and larynx to iced over meat, the other went down with one at his collar bone and the second penetrating halfway through the base of his neck.

They were still alive when Hitsugaya swooped in, the sand and blood covered tanto now in his left hand, Hyourinmaru drawn and naked in his right. The first arrancar blocked, using the bone mask that covered his forehead to good effect in an attempt to head butt, but Hitsugaya had expected as much given the mask's shape and sidestepped it. Hyourinmaru struck out to pin the second arrancar to the sand even as Hitsugaya scored a line down the first arrancar's back from nape of the neck across its spine.

This time when it went down, he knew it wouldn't rise, and when he turned to drop atop the second arrancar, he didn't even flinch as he drove the tanto through its mask and into its temple. It, too, would not rise again. He paused for a moment to wipe both his zanpakuto and tanto clean on the white robes, the red blood looking bright and garish in the bleach world he stood in now. Tanto returned to his sheathe, shuriken left as is, he moved up the dune in front of him.

Two left, and he saw neither.

Two spared, he knew, when he realized that their routes had taken them away from his destination. He wasted no time in take three staccato shunpo steps, finding himself within the cooler air of the vestibule seconds later. The massive doors were closed, but Hitsugaya didn't bother trying for subterfuge now as he pushed one open and slipped inside. He was sure that Aizen would know the moment he stepped inside, and there was no other way unless he cared to try scaling the walls unseen.

Even then Aizen was sure to have added new measures that would prevent that from being truly secret, anyway. So Hitsugaya didn't bother, and his footsteps echoed as he walked surely down the pale tiled hallway, senses on edge but unerringly headed for Aizen's inner sanctum.

He'd made it halfway before a scrabbling noise from overhead startled him into stopping, Hyourinmaru to hand and in a defensive posture as he looked up for the source of the noise. He saw nothing, but sensed the blow coming from behind as he turned, his zanpakuto's blade catching the bone covered arm aimed at him.

"Shinigami," the arrancar spat at him, forcing Hitsugaya to parry again. Killing the arrancar on his way in had been one thing, but he found himself hesitant to slaughter one mid-hall on his way to convince Aizen to let him join him. It was just bad form.

The scrabbling returned and this time dropped heavily behind him. Hitsugaya ducked low, avoiding the blow that again came from behind him, this time from a new arrancar. Whatever it was it was gone again, somewhere above. Hitsugaya rolled away, narrowly missing being stomped on by the heavy booted feet of the first, and when he came up to his knees he held a hand out in a halting gesture.

"I'm here to see Aizen," Hitsugaya said evenly, his breathing as calm as it had been before the attack.

Hyourinmaru was still unsheathed, now in his left hand and held casually, not at the ready. The last thing he needed was to make these arrancar take him as a real enemy rather than a perceived threat. He needed to make it to Aizen, and having them call down the entire army within and around Las Noches was definitely not in his private plans. He would try honesty, entreaty, and then if that didn't work he'd just kill them on the slim chance that Aizen would accept his regrets.

The one on his left sneered, giving Hitsugaya a first look at it. The mask that should have been merely a helmet along the top and back of its head was extended down his arms, making Hitsugaya thing that perhaps it was already released to an extent. That was unusual, since he'd never seen an arrancar running around outside of battle in any form but its basic one, but he didn't ask, merely watched the spiked bony stumps with a wary eye.

"Aizen-sama to you, worthless shinigami." It twitched its thin body, the neck of its white kimono leaving a stretch of neck visible just long enough for Hitsugaya to see the '8' tattooed indelibly into its skin.

He wanted to shake his head. He'd only been in Hueco Mundo for a short time, and already he'd stumbled into the Octava Espada. It was just his luck. But he wasn't about to back down from the implied insult it had given him; he would never bend knee to Aizen. This was just a means to an end.

He narrowed his eyes, left hand tightening almost painfully around Hyourinmaru's hilt. "No," Hitsugaya answered, his voice hard and implacable, the ice leeching through it to dare them to contradict him. "He's Aizen Sousuke—nothing more, nothing less. He did not create me; he is not my god."

"Not yet, at least," the arrancar above them said as it shifted down the wall, its talons scraping gouges as it came.

Hitsugaya inclined his head as was expected, acknowledging the fact that he knew very well Aizen's goal was to rule as God. When he lifted his head he managed a better look at the arrancar, and mentally revised it to Espada, and very female as she alighted on the ground, long black hair a startling background for the mask that crossed her forehead beneath blunted bangs, two abbreviated horns protruding above either eye. A '1' was inscribed neatly on her left thigh, easily visible as she wore only a short, flowing white kimono without the hakama the other Espada wore.

More than just his luck, he silently told himself, to come across not only the single Espada, but to encounter as well the most powerful Espada in Hueco Mundo. His mind shifted for a moment, wondering vaguely is this female was stronger than the one Espada who had escaped the Winter War to remain in the desert, but he lost the thought quickly, preferring to focus on his two opponents in case one attacked.

But neither did, and the Primera Espada offered no violence. Her dark eyes wandered over him carefully, but the scrutiny only served to make Hitsugaya relax marginally, his instinct telling him that—for the moment—he was in no danger. And if there was one thing Hitsugaya had learned to trust, it was that tiny voice that was his intuition that had rarely led him astray, and even in those times only from silence. She tilted her head to the side as she considered him, and he met her gaze, unafraid. When she spoke, he knew that he had passed the first major obstacle.

"Very well, shinigami. We will take you to Aizen-sama."

xXx

Cowardice wasn't the reason why he waited till the middle of the night before appearing in Rukia's window, comfortably balanced on the sill, a smirk pasted on his face. Not cowardice in the least. Ichigo simply preferred to think that he had a healthy self-preservation instinct, since if Byakuya learned of a clandestine visit at this time of night, he'd probably ensure that Ichigo was dead enough to captain the 5th in truth.

She was sleeping, he hadn't expected otherwise, but he'd be lying if he said that he hadn't been hoping for the chance to watch her undisturbed. For all the time that she spent sleeping in his closet, even still, he rarely got to watch her sleep. He treasured the times that he did.

He must have been sixteen when he finally admitted to himself why he'd gone through all the hell he had to save her from execution. Young enough to still fear the depth of his feelings, but old enough, thanks to his shinigami activities, to respect them. True, he'd honestly gone after her because her execution was unfair and unjust. But when he was completely honest with himself, he knew that the lengths to which he'd gone – dragging his friends and nakama with him – couldn't simply be explained away by the burden of honor between them.

But he would never say it where anyone might hear. Hell, he was afraid to think the words in her presence, even with her asleep and unaware of his presence. The woman had far too many tricks up her sleeves to trust that even his thoughts were safe from her. She always knew things she wasn't supposed to. And then she always took it out on him, even when he tried to keep her from knowing any of them.

He chuckled softly. She had a temper, that was for sure. Not that he minded; the petite shinigami always gave as good as she got. It was good, because he had never skimped on his own temper, even though she beat him up regularly.

She stirred at the sound of his voice, and Ichigo had half a heartbeat to dodge, finding himself sprawled on the floor of her room as something whizzed through the space he'd just been occupying. Something heavy and no doubt highly painful.

"What the fuck, Rukia?" he demanded in a soft voice.

She was glowering at him the moment she realized who had invaded her privacy. "What are you doing here?" Her scowl was just as vicious as his own could be; Ichigo made a mental note to never interrupt her sleep again because she so obviously needed it for her mental health.

He must have said the last part aloud, because Ichigo found himself ducking a minor hado so that it singed the floor instead of him. "Goddammit," he said, and when she reached for the lamp at her bedside to throw his way Ichigo lunged for it, her hand, and the bed all at once.

"Rukia, stop," he hissed, and she hissed right back at him.

"What are you doing here? In my room?" it was only when she reached up to pull the neck of her yukata closed that Ichigo realized her anger stemmed from the impropriety of her clothes. He stumbled back, face flaming and eyes averted too slowly. The sheet had pulled down and he saw a slim length of pale thigh before he managed to seat himself on the floor, legs cross and head buried in his hands.

"Fuck, I'm sorry, Rukia," he managed as he heard her shift, and the telltale sound of her sheets pulled back up. He could actually hear her glower, but he didn't dare turn around, just silently pray that she didn't kill him now.

"What are you doing here at—" the pause as she consulted her clock was pregnant, "Ichigo, it's one in the morning." The next pause was even heavier than the previous. "Is Nii-sama alright?"

Ichigo's head whipped around. "Not that I know of, but tell me what you know."

The half-ordered statement was a pleasant reminder of how close they could be, even when in the middle of a fight (unless she was standing on top of his prone body demanding answers that he couldn't, or wouldn't, give). She arched a dark eyebrow, prim for a moment as one hand clutched the yukata and the other the sheet just below it. It was a haughty pose, one that he was far too familiar with. He adored it.

"I know that Nii-sama plans to challenge Urahara in the morning. I heard him muttering in his office tonight," she told Ichigo seriously, though her eyes were amused.

Ichigo snorted. "Your brother doesn't mutter, Rukia. But why's Byakuya so pissed at Urahara? Still about that?" She nodded, the tacit admission all Ichigo needed to know that Rukia's brother still hadn't forgiven Urahara the part he played in her near execution and the way he'd endangered her with his specialized gigai after she'd accidentally given him her shinigami powers.

"Ah," he said. "Maybe after tomorrow he'll relax a little?"

She laughed aloud, and the clapped both hands over her mouth, eyes darting to the door in sudden fear. "Nii-sama wouldn't be Nii-sama without being uptight," she told him quietly, but with laughter in her voice. "But really, Ichigo. Why are you here? I know you had class today. Did they call you for the secret meeting?"

Ichigo looked away, sighing. "You know I can't tell you, Rukia."

"It must be very important if you've been here since morning."

He nodded and then leaned against the side of her raised futon. "Promise me that no matter what happens in the future, you'll try to be safe?" His hand sought hers without his active instruction, but when her slim fingers twined with his.

She squeezed his hand slightly and he leaned his head back to look up at her, amber finding worried indigo, emotion and darkness leeching her eyes of the purple hue he loved so. "Is it really that bad, Ichigo?"

He nodded once, not daring to trust his voice as his mind flew through the scroll, the meeting, the completely insane plan that Toushirou had thought up and that was, apparently, going to be used. There was so much that could go wrong, and so much that simply was wrong. The sacrifices would be made in blood, and Ichigo didn't care for that one bit.

"Worse," he finally said hoarsely, closing his eyes so that he wouldn't have to see the sudden flash of fear in hers.

Her hand was cool when she pressed it to his forehead in a comforting gesture. "You're sure you can't say anything?" she asked softly, almost entreating him to confide in her.

He would have shook his head but to do so would have made her withdraw her hand. Instead he used his voice. "No, Soutaichou's orders. No one beneath captain rank. I'm sorry. I'm only included because…"

He searched for words, because he didn't want to sound self-important. He hated being involved in this, he wasn't even a full shinigami. Somehow it felt wrong to be added to the meeting when Nemu and Kira and Hisagi were all excluded, though technically he wasn't a full taichou. He was merely acting captain, just as they were. Hell, if it hadn't been for the fact that Hinamori was so fragile (his mind automatically substituted the word even though the he knew the truth: that she was damaged, broken, perchance beyond repair) then she would even now be the acting captain of the 5th.

He highly doubted that Hinamori acting as taichou would have spared him the meeting, the knowledge, or the duty to help exterminate Aizen and his arrancar.

"Because you're you," she said wryly. Her hand slipped from his forehead and he wanted to protest his absence. It would be so damned easy just to sit up, touch her, kiss her.

"Rukia," he said softly.

She shook her head. "I'll be as safe as I can, Ichigo. You can't ask for more than that. I have a duty to Seireitei."

"I know," he replied. He did know, too, because her duty was his as well now. The headstrong substitute shinigami he had been had grown up somewhere along the line. He expected that a great deal of it took place in between Urahara killing him and him—not—killing Aizen. The aftermath of the Winter War had matured him in ways he didn't want to contemplate. Blood and death, the things that war was, were not glorious, and if Ichigo still liked a good fight, he knew full well the consequences that war led to.

"I worry about you," he admitted softly into the still night air. He heard her breathe in, the sound of a startled woman. It was the closest he would ever come to telling her exactly how much he cared for her.

Her hand returned, this time a gentle caress down his cheek. "I know you do, Ichigo. You worry for all your nakama."

The word turned his heart to ice, and he stifled the sudden hurt within him. She couldn't know what her words did to him, she couldn't know how much he lo—Ichigo stopped that train of thoughts in its tracks faster than he could purify a hollow. "Yes, I do," was all he said, and it was an effort to keep his voice from cracking.

He leaned forward, pulling himself to his feet and trying to forget how right her small hand had felt on his face. "I should go before Byakuya catches me here." He gave her one of the scowling smiles he was so good at. "He's going to call Hat 'n Clogs out in a duel tomorrow?" He dared to glance at her, almost sure that she would see nothing suspicious in his eyes.

"He would have done it tonight, but I think that Urahara had something else to do," was her matter-of-fact answer.

He almost choked on his tongue, knowing exactly what Urahara had been doing. Hell, he'd been on the receiving end of Benihime before, and that had been nothing like what Urahara had done tonight. At least the crazy bastard hadn't accidentally killed him, and he was never letting Urahara get within ten feet of him with his zanpakuto unsealed ever again.

He turned the noise into a faked smile. "Should be a good show. I'll see you there, then?"

Now she turned up her nose. "Of course, since it's my honor that Nii-sama is avenging. You can sit with me and we can watch him lose his composure."

Ichigo made a sound of assent, even though he was sure didn't want to be anywhere near Kuchiki Byakuya when he was battling Urahara, especially considering that the older taichou didn't like him much. Or really at all. He was always looking at Ichigo cross-eyed when Rukia was around, or even mentioned. But then, it would be fun to make Byakuya's head spin around.

"Yeah, Rukia," Ichigo told her fondly. "I wouldn't miss it."