Bleach isn't mine.
Last chapter, folks. Enjoy!
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Toushirou abruptly woke, and immediately wanted to shield his eyes from the blinding lights. But something caught his hand. He yanked it a little with no reward, so tugged harder, yelping when the needle shifted under his skin.
"Shirou," Momo's voice, hyped with worry, trembled a bit. A small hand grasped his growing one and gently placed it back beside him. "Don't pull on that."
He grunted.
"I'll go get—" She stopped when his free hand caught her sleeve. Momo turned, finding his somewhat sleepy eyes dark, a little musky from the drugs, but still Shiro, still Toushirou.
"No," he murmured, shaking his head slowly. "Don't call them in here. I don't want them in here."
"Alright," she soothed him, reaching to stroke his limp hair hanging into his eyes. "I won't. Calm down."
He sighed, relaxing visibly, "Good."
"Are you hungry? Thirsty?"
Toushirou blinked his eyes open—they'd drooped as she continued to pet his forehead—and watched her innocent eyes inspect his face, the thick bandage on his cheek, the hand wrapped tight since he'd nearly sliced half of each finger off with the glass he'd used last resort as a weapon. His chest felt tight; he didn't remember breaking his collarbone.
He tried to picture what it would look like with Momo thrown into that hellish mix. What he could see frightened and angered him; what he couldn't made him shudder and shift under the cold sheets damp with his sweat.
Oblivious to his torment, Momo withdrew, taking the harsh frown that he wanted to be left alone.
"Where are you going?" he asked as she handled the door.
"Um," she smiled wanly. "Outside?"
He wanted to laugh, but it hurt, so he just smirked, soaking in the childlike purity in her eyes and manners, so contrary to the people he associated with the most for the past few weeks. Toushirou waved her forward.
"I don't want you going anywhere, idiot."
Momo huffed, "Well, fine. What do you want, Mr. Grumpypants?"
His brow lifted at the name, but he seriously considered her simple question. The humor drained from his face. Fresh worry spurred him to speak, to draw her attention from his own mess.
"You can…" He seemed a bit embarrassed, turning his head away.
"What?"
He tousled his bangs roughly, face reddening a bit. "This. Whatever this was."
She blinked, but giggled, a little flushed herself when she began brushing his hair back again. "Better?"
Toushirou hummed gruffly, but his brow smoothed soon enough. "'m a bit tired, Momo," he muttered.
"Then sleep, silly."
He did, fitfully and deep. His lips parted eventually. Momo fiddled with the hem of her shirt, so horribly worried and scared for him that it almost made her sick. While he had always been a rough-spoken, scowling little boy, something in him changed after he became executive of Paranormal Thirteen, Inc. He would have anyway, but especially after the attack Shirou had changed, become harder, colder, grown up. He was in a place she feared she could never reach, that if she fell too far behind then he'd just leave her there. She didn't want to be baggage, but how could she catch up when he'd already been through so much, and she was nearly two years older than him!
Momo wasn't sure, but quietly decided to be a little selfish and hold on to him as long as he let her. Not only was he a good friend, her best friend, but she couldn't help but feel a slight pull whenever he was around, grumpy and distant or not. She had to hold on.
Slowly, she sat on the bed beside him, moving his bandaged hand to rest on his chest, placed a chaste kiss to his warm forehead, and curled as close as she dared to his tender side.
"Happy Birthday, Toushirou."
(())
He hated the meeting hall.
Or was it the people that made it so unpleasant?
Either way, he hated it. Especially now, with the vampire lord poisoning his people with blatant lies right in front of him.
Toushirou squirmed in his chair, the cast on his chest itchy and hot, also hating having to sit here the whole damn time.
"I hope you understand," Aizen was saying, "That the incident in question was not intentional or orchestrated on my behalf. If you recall, shortly before Matsumoto Rangiku left for a time, there was a small local coven leader brutally murdered. Am I so certain there are underlying connections? Of course not. But I can assure you all that I handle my people precise and with extreme care. Nothing of this magnitude would have escaped my notice."
"Yes," Grey-beard waved the vampire on. "We understand all of this, and have already spent plenty on investigators for whoever was behind the attempt on Hitsugaya Toushirou's life. It's regretful for our former employee, but at least he is safe."
"Yes, of course," Aizen locked eyes with the boy, now thirteen for a number of weeks, but still unable to make his stand in his own company. The request to have books and files from the library was still tangled in the web of his unfavorable advisors, the ones he forcibly had appointed having such a small voice in any decision-making process that it drove him mad. Like he silently endured under the laughing gaze of Aizen Sousuke. "Very regrettable. I feel deeply for your loss," the vampire addressed him, daring him to lash out and deny everything Aizen just told his entire Board, the people who could essentially have him removed from office under strenuous circumstances.
Toushirou got away with a nod.
The meeting concluded.
"Thank you for taking time to speak," Grey-beard was shaking Aizen's hand once again.
"It's not a problem at all. Anything for the young master of Paranormal Thirteen."
What a snake, Toushirou thought as he excused himself quickly, rushing to meet Momo outside for a cast change at his own personal clinic on company grounds.
When Aizen departed, another meeting was immediately called, exclusive and secret. The doors were locked, and grim faces turned for the worst as Grey-beard seated himself with a grunt.
"Well?" he urged.
"We're not entirely sure how," a woman in the back of the stadium-style room spoke, "but the statistics are clear: the Cycle has been tampered with on a much greater scale than we originally believed. All the clues indicate Matsumoto Rangiku as the culprit."
"That's impossible," a man reasoned. "How can she mess with the Cycle if she doesn't know anything about it?"
"How do we know she doesn't?" the woman argued, joined by a number of agreeing voices.
"Because," Grey-beard interrupted sharply, "no one is supposed to have that knowledge."
"Then someone leaked information!" roared a middle-aged man, standing to his feet quickly.
A murmur rose.
"Impossible," the first man waved his hand. "Information not known can't be spread. This was an outside job."
"You're a hypocrite! How can it be an outside job when no one knows about it to tell except the Board?"
"Then it was one of us!"
The uproar of forty-six Board members was silenced quickly enough by Grey-beard. "What we need to consider here are all the possibilities, ridiculous or not. The most crucial thing here is the fact that somehow the Cycle was corrupted but not broken. For now, as policy, nothing of this situation will go beyond these walls." The threat in his deep tone kept the other members solemn and pondering, or sulking on the end of the Developmental Department who headed the monitoring of the Cycle. "Now, until we gather more intelligence, the matter is closed. Proceed," he motioned to the younger folks, the Developmental Department.
A young man, not a Board member but a key scientist in the branch, stood, adjusted his glasses, and cleared his throat. "The new specimens have been a great success, defying popular belief," he directed at many of the skeptics in the crowd, "and should be ready to integrate into the Cycle."
"Good," Grey-beard nodded. "We have an open spot next rotation. It will be a good time to test these modifications."
The scientist cleared his throat again.
"Yes?"
"Well, when we say a 'great success' we mean as in 'there are a few of them being born already'."
(())
Aizen Sousuke was smiling as he entered his own white limousine, taking his cell phone out as the vehicle jumped onto the road of the privately owned grounds, and out into the busy afternoon streets.
The ear piece buzzed as it rang. He glanced out the window, seemingly enjoying the view of people passing by.
The receiver clicked alive, and a voice answered.
"The ball is in your court," he said, hardly containing the sheer malicious pleasure from his words. He snapped the device shut.
To be concluded
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For anyone interested, there will be a sequel called Cascade. Not the dishwashing compound. Haha! Anyway, if you'd like to see everything as it comes to a close be on the lookout for it. Shouldn't be too long before it's posted. I hope it being a crossover with Naruto won't be a problem. If anyone caught the hints, a couple characters from Naruto have already made appearances.
Also, I'm making a prequel to After Never called Before Forever, which will be events prior to this story, but completely in the Naruto fandom. It's still in the works, so might be posted during or after Cascade. Or, in a strange event, before Cascade.
Anyway! Look for that, those of you interested.
A big thanks to anyone who reviewed, and to all those lurkers out there. You guys are great. Hope to see you in the next two! And don't forget to spread the GinRan love!
Happy New Year!
HH-san