The ending reminds me of last chapter's ending. Oh well.
Alright. I'll be the first to admit that this chapter is a little off. I'm not exactly sure why, it just feels awkward to me. It's also frustratingly short. All it really is is a bit of a transition chapter. I hope it doesn't hurt the story too much. If it does, I apologize. And I can only hope that what I have planned for the next few chapters will make up for it.
On a completely unrelated note… It is now officially Spring Break. And I plan to do a whole lot of writing. So I'll see you all again real soon.
Until then. Enjoy. If you can.
"Anger at lies lasts forever. Anger at truth can't last."
Greg Evans
Chapter Eight
All of the Above
Hitsugaya Toushirou would never admit it. Ever. To anyone.
That didn't stop him from thinking about it.
Ever since he had spoken with Ichimaru in that world of nothingness, he had constantly made sure that Hyourinmaru was present everywhere he went. Even when in his gigai, if given a moment to think, he would press his awareness into the recesses of his mind until he heard the characteristic thrumming of his zanpakutou.
He knew it was cowardly of him, needy, clingy, (which he most definitely was not) but whenever he remembered that empty, silent feeling that had plagued him when he had not had Hyourinmaru there to support him, he forgot all about his shame and felt as if he couldn't afford not to make sure. It was obvious that Hyourinmaru felt differently.
Of course, the dragon continued to send him the hoped for hums to prove his existence, but otherwise he remained silent. Hitsugaya needed no words; that the dragon knew. There was no point lecturing someone when he already knew what he was doing was unapproved of. But there was even more to it than that.
Hitsugaya could sense it in every fiber of Hyourinmaru's existence. The dragon understood. And while he most certainly did not approve, he would continue to support his flesh and blood as he had always done.
He just wished that he would say something. Anything. It hurt, in a strange way that Hitsugaya couldn't get used to. That silence. It hurt.
But Hitsugaya would never admit it.
"Dammit!" Hitsugaya roared, throwing the book against the wall in his frustration. "Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!"
How long had it been? Four, five days? Maybe even six? He hadn't been counting. But he knew it was too long. It was far too long.
"Dammit!"
Nell watched him, once again hiding behind a bookcase. He had been perfectly fine a few minutes ago. A bit on edge, sure, but fine none-the-less. Then he finished flipping through that book, and all hell had broken loose. The fierce reiatsu he exerted felt as if it would crush her any minute.
"There's nothing! Nothing!" he continued to yell hoarsely, his throat dry. Whether it was from the screaming or from the lump gliding up his throat and threatening to break loose, he wasn't sure. "How can there be nothing?!"
He had searched through the endless tomes far into the night, every single day since he had arrived. This was Urahara Kisuke's study, for goodness' sake! How could there not be a single piece of information?! He knew it had nothing to do with Urahara. It had nothing to do with Nell. He knew it was no one's fault; no one's but Ichimaru Gin's. But he had reached his limit. He had placed every last one of his strained hopes on that final volume. And in return, he had had them all crushed simultaneously.
Hitsugaya was powerless to control the consuming rage tearing him apart. Because if he did, he knew that there would no longer be anything to hold back the choking sting in his throat. That cruel lump that was fighting to invade his discipline and bring him crashing down into sobs.
Hitsugaya did not do that. He did not cry.
"Dammit!"
He felt that familiar churning in his stomach, those icy scales uncoiling, that took him over in battle, and he could no longer resist. He ran for the window, ignoring the glass in front of him, ignoring a teary-eyed Nell stumbling after him, and forced himself through, shattering the window pane as he did so. Skimming across treetops and rooftops, he didn't bother with wiping the blood from his forehead or hiding himself from passerby as he scanned for any sign of a hollow, anything he could slice in two with Hyourinmaru.
"Yo, little boy. Lookin' for me?"
Hitsugaya didn't even turn around, didn't even offer it an answer. Within seconds, he was out of his gigai, Hyourinmaru in hand.
It didn't stand a chance in hell.
"Oh my, oh my…" tsked a be-hatted man as he stepped into the dusty study and admired the broken window. His eyes narrowed as he followed Hitsugaya's spiking reiatsu through the neighborhood. "I take it he finished off the library then."
A closer inspection revealed a small collective of blood dripping from the glass still attached to the sill. Perhaps it was about time he called in a favor….
"Kisuke-oji-chan!" He barely had enough time to hear the voice before he was assaulted by an anxious Nell. Kneeling down, he pried her from his leg and held her steady by her shoulders. She never stopped howling. "Toushirou was scary! He threw the books and yelled and jumped out the window! And he tried to squish me! Like an evil shinigami! He was really, really mad! And he didn't say anything to Nell at all! Did Nell do something wrong? Did Nell make Toushirou mad?"
"No, no. Nell-chan didn't do anything wrong at all. The one Hitsugaya-kun's mad at is me," he replied with a poke to her nose.
Her eyes widened as she contemplated this new information. "Why?" she sniffed.
"'Cause Uncle Kisuke's a big, fat jerk!" he chimed.
"…jerk?"
"It means I'm a very cruel person that everybody loves to hate."
"Oh! You mean a basta-"
"What the hell just happened!?" interrupted Nell from her epiphany as Abarai Renji charged up to the door, breathing heavily. He looked all around the room, from the strewn books to the broken window, then down at Urahara and Nell.
"Nothing of any importance," he grinned, picking the tiny arrancar up in his arms. "I was just minding my own business, and – bam! – off Hitsugaya-kun runs as if he can't even stand my presence or something! I just don't understand it!" Renji gave him one of his agitated looks before glancing at the broken window once more. Urahara ignored the concern for now. He had other eggs to fry. Or however that expression went.
"Now, it's about time for Ichigo to get out of school. Whaddya say we go pay him a visit, eh, Nell-chan?"
Nell's earlier distress instantly disappeared as she grinned so large it barely fit her face. "Let's go see Ichigo! I wanna surprise him and make him pee his pants!" she cheered excitedly as Renji's gaze was riveted upon them yet again.
"You wanna … what?"
"You heard the lady, Freeloader-san!" Urahara smirked maliciously. "We're going to go make Ichigo pee his pants. But even though I know how much you'd love to come, you have to watch the shop. Then maybe I'll call you by your actual name for once."
It was in this giddy manner that Urahara and Nell exited the room, leaving a disturbed yet amused Renji in their wake.
Several hours later, Hitsugaya trudged back into Urahara Shoten, feeling dismally like an unwilling prodigal son. Abarai was manning the store in his stead, sitting behind the counter and staring him down like a safe he couldn't crack. He could understand the concern, logically. He wasn't quite as beat up as he was simply caked in a layer of sweat and dirt, but he knew he must have appeared worse for the wear. He could understand the concern. But that wasn't to say it didn't annoy him.
"What are you looking at, Abarai?" he nearly hissed.
The Sixth Division fukutaichou was silent for a moment before he replied, his voice cool and steady. "Rukia's fully recovered. A few scars, but alive. She'll be going back to Karakura High tomorrow, to keep up her cover." Another pause. "Urahara's in the kitchen, talking with somebody."
An aggravated grunt was the only reply Hitsugaya offered as he continued through the store and to Urahara's homestead behind. What did Rukia's returning to school and Urahara's social life have to do with him? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. He sighed, cupping his head in his hand.
It appeared Abarai was just as perceptive as Kurosaki.
Or maybe he was just that obvious.
"Kisuke, I'm not sure this is something I should be butting my head into."
Hitsugaya paused in his reflections. He recognized that voice, but he couldn't attach it to a face. Narrowing his eyes a fraction, he resumed his walk. He had to go through the kitchen to get to the bathroom anyway.
"Aw, don't be so modest. Besides, he's gone through the whole library. The whole thing! In less than a week! You're not butting in; I'm recruiting you."
Ah. So the conversation was about him. Joy.
"You know what I mean. I'm hardly qualified for this sort of thing. I'd probably just screw him up."
"Not a problem. He's already screwed up."
A chuckle followed. "Kisuke, you're not helping."
It was at that point in the conversation that Hitsugaya made it to the open door and entered. He didn't get very far. The sight that met him stopped him in his tracks. There, sitting at one end of the kitchen table, was Urahara. At the other side of the table, robed in a shihakushou and modified haori, zanpakutou at his side, sat Kurosaki Isshin.
Silence reigned as the two men stared at Hitsugaya, and Hitsugaya returned the action. Urahara was smiling. A wicked, dastardly, insidious smile for all of its feigned innocence.
"Well," he finally managed, throat considerably dry, "that explains a lot."
"Doesn't it?" Urahara chirped, lifting his fan to cover his Cheshire grin.
Kurosaki remained silent, and Hitsugaya felt disturbingly like the man was looking right through him. This feeling was drastically different from the aura the insane, overbearing man had given off when Hitsugaya had seen him wrestling with his son. It was serious, calculating … aged. It was quickly becoming clear to him how the younger Kurosaki had grown so strong so fast.
"We were just talking about you, weren't we, Isshin?"
At this Kurosaki turned abruptly back to Urahara, his expression surprised. Before he could say anything however, Hitsugaya held up a hand to halt the conversation. "I really, really don't want to know," he breathed before striding across the room and out the other door.
He needed to take a shower.
And he did not want whatever Urahara had stuffed up his ridiculous bucket hat plaguing his mind any further as he did so.
"That was who you were talking about?" Isshin asked, eyes wide.
"Surprised, are you? You look almost as out of it as he did."
"I knew that shinigami were here; I knew there was a division head among them. But I never thought…"
"…it was him?" Urahara finished, basking in his friend's dumbfounded state.
"Yes," his friend replied grimly. "I've only seen him once or twice. He was never with the others, and he never exerted any reiatsu. I suppose in hindsight that alone should have made me suspicious. Only a division head could hold back his spirit pressure so thoroughly.
"Then again," Isshin suddenly added, concern beginning to win out over his surprise. "That reiatsu I just felt … was different. Very different. Very … wrong. It felt as if he wasn't holding it back at all. The only reason I was unaffected was because he was so worn out."
"Ah yes, that," Kisuke sighed melodramatically. "He mentioned that as one of the symptoms of the poison. It wasn't really much of an issue until his outburst this afternoon. I'm going to have to look into that. The poison's progression may be stimulated by stress…."
"Kisuke."
"Oh, yes. Where was I?" Urahara grinned.
"Some sort of outburst," Isshin clarified, clearly intent on learning everything there was to his little scheme before formulating an opinion.
"Yes. Like I said, he finished off the library. That's a week wasted in his book. As soon as it happened, his reiatsu nearly exploded. Most of that was anger though. I think the point it's at now is where it will stay for a while. The problem is that because he left Soul Society without consent he didn't have a limit placed on him. If you thought that what you just felt was bad, imagine if he really wasn't holding back.
"But once again, I digress," Kisuke waved the frightening thought away as if it were nothing. "Apparently, by the time he had left his reiatsu had been so strong that it actually deterred his own officers from coming anywhere near him. Good for getting away unseen, bad for his officers. I'm estimating it will take another week or so before he progresses quite that far.
"He also mentioned a migraine as another symptom. I'm guessing that will come in another week or so as well. Then, finally, the pain."
Isshin was quiet for a moment, looking down at his hands. When he spoke it was with an interesting spark that most definitely had not been there before. Kisuke smirked. He was reeling him in.
"What … did you say his name was again?"
"Hitsugaya Toushirou, the youngest taichou to ever head a Gotei 13 division. Tenth Division, to be exact." And his friend's eyes widened yet another notch.
"Well, he was anyway." At the look Isshin shot him, he continued. "I have my sources, and they've been looking into this mess. To be honest, I didn't think the library would do him any good; it was simply a stalling tactic. It seems he has yet to realize it, but I'm sure he will once he cools down. None-the-less, it worked. I've spoken with a few contacts, in Seireitei and otherwise. Seireitei's in a bit of a haze. No one can figure out why he left, so they pulled his rank and had him classified as a secondary threat. He's part of our little club now!"
Isshin did not appear anywhere near as pleased with his use of diction as Urahara was. But that was to be expected. Finally, the reply. Or as Urahara liked to call it: the inevitable giving-in-to-Kisuke's-evil-plans speech.
A wry smile signaled its beginning. "Honestly, Kisuke. You are officially the cruelest, most heartless man I know. This outdoes anything Ryuuken's ever thrown at me." He leaned toward Urahara, dark eyes gleaming with mischief despite his words. "You know very well I can't say no to a kid."
"Are you insinuating something, Isshin?"
"Not at all! I merely wish to offer a suggestion."
"Really now?" Kisuke drawled. "Do tell."
Newly bathed and both relieved and perturbed to find Nell missing, Hitsugaya had retreated to the highest spot he could find without appearing suspicious. He did not want another escapade like that afternoon. Because of his impulsiveness he had had to erase the memory of a young couple who had happened to see him run off. They had been rambling on and on about how it was impossible for a little kid to jump that far and whether or not he was some sort of government experiment to be used as a super soldier in World War III. It had not been pleasant.
And so, here he was, sitting on the roof and basking in what little moonlight the artificially lit night had to offer. A thought occurred to him, and out of habit, he reached into his back pocket for his denreishinki or, as the substitute shinigami and his friends had dubbed it, his cell phone. It wasn't there. Of course it wasn't. Things like that could be tracked after all.
For a moment, he wondered whether he should go steal Abarai's, but he decided against it. He wasn't in the mood for that at the moment. Maybe tomorrow.
A soft "hup!" signaled the arrival of someone else. He could instantly tell who it was.
"What do you want, Kurosaki?" he asked without turning around. Not only was he not in the mood, but he wasn't sure he could look the boy in the face without being reminded of his father.
The teenaged red head sighed before sitting down next to him. "I didn't get a single call about hollows today," he said simply. Hitsugaya narrowed his eyes, still refusing to acknowledge him. "Wanna talk about it?"
"No."
"Oh."
Silence.
"Is this what you do all day?" Kurosaki began again, leaning back and looking up at the sky. "Sit up here and just … do nothing?"
"I don't 'do nothing,'" he muttered, accepting the fact that Kurosaki wasn't about to leave any time soon.
"What do you do then?"
"I think. Which is more than I can say about you."
Kurosaki reacted unexpectedly well. He was obviously peeved, but he did his best not to act on that annoyance. Hitsugaya had to give him credit for that. "Just thinking, eh? Sounds kinda depressing."
"The fact that I use my brain is depressing to you?" he pressed on, venting a bit more steam. The way he felt, he figured he'd never fully rid himself of it, no matter how many hollows he disintegrated or how many shinigami substitutes he provoked. The thought itself almost depressed him from his haughtiness.
"Kinda-sorta, I guess," Kurosaki replied. Hitsugaya finally turned to face him, a white brow curving scornfully upward. "I mean, you are a genius and all. Tensai or whatever, right? But still, I just think you think too much."
"You do realize the irony of your last statement, right?"
The red head frowned, staring the white crowned taichou down. "You get what I mean. Here, tell me. What were you thinking about before I showed up?"
Hitsugaya was silent. He had been thinking about what a pain it had been to wipe that idiot couple's minds. He had been reflecting on human stupidity, nothing more. But then…
Then he had begun to wonder whether he could contact Matsumoto. He had just wanted to hear her voice again, even if it was yelling at him. He had wanted to tell her why he had left, given her something, anything, to make up for what he had done. He had wanted someone to know he was still there.
"See? You're doing it. Right now. You're thinking too much," Kurosaki scolded when Hitsugaya didn't respond.
"It's none of your business," he said coldly, looking away again.
Kurosaki stood up, and Hitsugaya could feel his eyes boring into his back. "Yeah, yeah. So you've told me. Look, I just came up here to tell you Getaboushi and Yoruichi have enrolled you and Renji back into Karakura High. You'll be starting tomorrow. Wake up on time."
Before Kurosaki could take another step, Hitsugaya had jumped to his feet as well. "What?! Why?! I have no reason to go back!"
The red head looked him up and down, frown lightening into a casual smirk. "If you keep working during school hours, a truant officer's gonna show up and drag you off anyhow," he grunted, resuming his retreat once more.
"Besides," he added, smirk broadening just before he leaped back down to the alleyway below, "school is the best cure for thinking."
Hitsugaya continued to stare blankly for some time before he finally recomposed himself. Then slowly but surely, he followed Kurosaki down from the roof and went back inside.
Urahara Kisuke had better be praying.
Because he was about to face the wrath of a 4'4" blizzard that had left countless Eleventh Division shinigami running home and crying to mommy.
And no amount of witty colloquialisms could save him.
