Author's Note: Hurrah, it appears as that pendulum-whatever story arc (in the manga) has finally ended! We finally get to see the shinigami and the Arrancar get down to business next week! I'm excited, aren't you? I'm also aware they are now playing Memories of Nobody in select American theaters…word of advice; don't watch it. It was a bad movie (that's coming from a Bleach fan, so you know how bad it was) and the dubbing can only make it worse. Unless, of course, you want to support Mr. Kubo and the foreign promotion of his work. That's a good thing, so do whatever you want, I guess. Just prepare to throw up when you hear Hitsugaya's awful manly-man dubbed voice.
When Ichigo opened his eyes, he found himself to be somewhere else, probably in the fourth division's clinic, a place well-known to him because of his past visits.
With a groan of pain, he tried to sit up, failing miserably and flopping back onto the plush mattress of the hospital bed he was in.
Upon further investigation, he found that he was bandaged heavily around his abdominal and chest region, and someone, much to his humiliation, had stuck a band-aid with a dinosaur print on it to the small wound on his forehead.
It was about then that the reality of the events that had happened before he had landed himself in the fourth division struck him head on.
It was hard to describe how he felt – It was a jumbled and complicated mixture of anger, hate, disbelief, frustration, and depression. In his mind, he analyzed each of these emotions, one by one, in his mind.
Hate. Ah, yes, the strawberry was boiling on the inside with sheer hate; hate for Aizen, who had taken Hitsugaya away and hate for Kusaka, who was so stubbornly defending Hitsugaya's decision to comply with Aizen's orders.
"Seriously," Ichigo muttered aloud to himself, "That stupid dickhead…Too protective for his own good. It makes me sick, that stupid, clingy bastard…He claims he wants the best for Toshiro, but his concept of 'best' is so screwed up…"
He knew it was a little harsh of him to say such things about someone who had previously saved his ass back in Hueco Mundo, but above all, he hated Hitsugaya Toshiro for leaving him without explaining why.
Anger. Of course, Ichigo was angry. Not only was he angry at all the people listed above for the exact reasons why he was feeling such intense hate for, but in addition, he was also furious with himself.
"I'm so stupid…" he muttered, staring at the ceiling. "How could I let them get away? And besides, even though I didn't get what he was saying, if what Sojiro said was true, then isn't this all my own fault anyway?"
Disbelief. The situation was real enough, but to the substitute shinigami, he couldn't help but wish it wasn't. He was almost expecting Hitsugaya to pop into the room at any second, sick with worry. He was always at his side when he was wounded, wasn't he? But this was not one of those times, and he found himself aching for that familiar voice, although harsh, practically ordering him to get better soon or else.
Frustration. Ichigo had plenty of reasons to be crazy with frustration. There was his own lack of ability to keep Hitsugaya in Soul Society, for instance.
"Why am I so goddamn weak?" he asked himself, still staring at the ceiling as if something magical was going to happen. "If I was stronger, I'd be able to save Toshiro, instead of letting him run back to Hueco Mundo, right?"
Lastly, it all funneled down into depression. Hitsugaya was gone, and there was nothing he could do about it. Fortunately, as he had resigned himself from being a shinigami, there was nothing Central 46 could do about it, but that was beyond the point. Everything Hitsugaya had said to him and done to him the last time he had seen him had permanently slashed wounds into his heart.
Unlike the wounds that he bore in his abdominal region, however, these were not wounds that could be healed, even with the help of kido. Only one person could cure this unbearable pain, and that one person had thrown his life away and was dimensions away in Hueco Mundo.
With another frustrated growl, Ichigo slammed his fist into his pillow twice, pounding the fabric mercilessly. It brought him no satisfaction; he wanted to tear up the entire room and burn the whole damn Seireitei down.
"This is stupid," he snarled into his pillow as he rolled over onto his stomach, "Everything is so fucking stupid. I hate that stupid man, I hate that freaking dickhead, and I hate that…that white-haired, pint-sized brat…"
"You mean taichou…right?"
"What do you want, Rangiku-san?" Ichigo grunted unhappily, rolling back over to face Matsumoto, who had walked into the door, looking thinner than she had before and very miserable indeed.
"I just thought I'd check on you," she answered weakly, "And I brought you some tea, too."
"Oh…Thanks," the orange-haired teen muttered as he took hold of the teacup that was extended towards him, taking a sip of the piping hot liquid – green tea, Hitsugaya's favorite drink. He swallowed the lump in his throat; trying not to think about the nature of the beverage he had been offered.
"You've been in a coma for two days now, you know that? When'd you wake up, anyway?"
"A couple minutes ago," he replied unhappily. "And Toshiro…?"
"They got away, Ichigo-kun."
"I suspected as much," Ichigo sighed, leaning against the backboard of the hospital bed he had been situated in. "Did you tell the sotaichou…?"
"No, I didn't. I just reported them as unknown attackers when they asked."
This was followed by a brief silence.
"It's a good thing your wounds weren't as serious as we thought they'd be," Matsumoto continued. "It's surprising what taichou did."
"You mean how he stabbed me through the gut and probably damaged most of my digestive tract?" Ichigo asked sarcastically, "Or how he nearly turned me into a strawberry popsicle?"
"No," she answered, "You know why he did this, don't you?"
"Yeah…He told me it was to stop me from chasing after him."
"You see?" Matsumoto replied, smiling weakly. "This is taichou's way of protecting you. He still loves you, you know that? That's why he left to start with-"
"Yeah, that's a pretty sick way of showing affection, don't you think, Rangiku-san?" Ichigo retorted bitterly, cutting her off.
Matsumoto sighed and started again. "You don't get it, do you, Ichigo-kun? Look, no one knows taichou better than I do…well, except maybe Sojiro-kun. Anyway, do you even know why he left in the first place?"
"No, why would I?"
"It's because he was trying to protect you, of course, silly. Taichou couldn't bear the thought of Aizen hurting you. That was why he left – Because that was the only option Aizen gave him."
There was a long, uncomfortable silence afterwards.
"So Sojiro was right," Ichigo muttered glumly, "It is my fault after all…"
"Don't blame yourself," Matsumoto insisted. "What taichou chooses to do is what he chooses to do. He's a stubborn kid. Once he makes up his mind, he won't change it. You had nothing to do with him leaving; that was his own decision."
"Then we've got to make him change his mind, no matter what!" Ichigo shouted, sitting up a little bit straighter, "You have no idea how badly I need him back here, Rangiku-san."
"Well, Ichigo-kun," the fukutaichou of the tenth division mused, "Just how much does taichou mean to you?"
"Everything!" Ichigo answered heatedly. "Toshiro is everything to me, Rangiku-san. If we can't save him, then I don't know what I'll do, I mean…I would do anything for him. I'd die for him if I had to; that's how much he means to me."
"Well, I guess that's good, since you are Aizen's target…"
"I don't care about Aizen! I just want to be able to get stronger so I can knock some sense into Sojiro and save Toshiro!"
"Don't worry," Matsumoto smiled, "We'll think of something, Ichigo-kun…But finish your tea first, will you?"
