Continuity Note

Thanks to Lady Azar de Tameran, my fifth reviewer! Woot! Sometime in the (probably distant) future, when I get ten reviews, I plan to do an amusing side story involving Hitsugaya trying to teach English to Hinamori. (By the way, has anyone figured out when Hitsugaya lived? There are more than enough clues to point to a decade, and soon you should be able to guess the year she died)

In response to your question, Lady Azar, since this is Hitsugaya's log, she really doesn't know why she's traveling. The original intent, according to the Fourth of October, was to retrace her steps. However, the "real" reason why Hinamori suggested it was lost between the lines- but her idea was to give Hitsugaya a grace period to stew over her unusual situation. Two vice-captains now know her secret, and while they still trusted Hitsugaya for this, what about the others? People do look at you differently when you deliberately hide something huge for a long time. If Hitsugaya falsifies her gender, what else is a ruse?

Hinamori actually did the smartest thing in offering the journey to Hitsugaya. Originally, as she mentioned, it was only just for Aki, but when Hitsugaya asked Momo to join her, the stipulation of having Matsumoto was put in place so Hinamori could deliberately lag behind, giving the two of them an opportunity to heal old wounds.

Vietnam War vets and (to a lesser extent and usually through virtual reality machines) Iraq vets suffering from post-traumatic stress syndrome (PTSS) are sometimes sent back to the country where they served so that they can put themselves back together and learn to live a normal life. That's essentially what's going on here. As you have noticed, Hitsugaya seems to have loosened up a little since leaving Seirentei, but what happens when she returns 'home'?

IMPORTANT CULTURE NOTE- 'Aniki' is a term used to describe one of the new characters in this chapter. It comes from 'ani', or older brother, and is a term of rough endearment towards an older brother, gang boss, or group leader. In the Bleach manga/anime, Ganjyu is called this by his peers. 'Boss' really doesn't encompass the affection displayed in the Japanese word, so I opted for 'aniki' instead.

Enjoy!

Tenth Moon, Fourteenth Sun, Sixth Year (Sun)

My stomach growled. We had made an amazing pace the day before, and were nearing the seventieth district. We stormed through about thirty districts on the Thirteenth Sun and another ten or so the next morning, and we were on such a roll that nobody had stopped to think about eating. As it neared noon, I remembered a small hellhole tavern I used to go to after Momo had taken me under her wing, but before I entered the academy. Like a child that clings to an abusive parent, I did not want to leave the general area that I had lived in until I would leave Rukongai for good, and in the process had discovered this dirty little stopover that was frequented by the shinigami who worked in that area. Almost all of them, I discovered later, were tenth division members coming back from situating the unlucky ones into the afterlife in these far reaching locations.

We were very close, and I thought it might be a good idea to eat there, until I recalled the last time I'd run into members of my own division. But wasn't I supposed to be doing field research with Matsumoto anyway? I dropped my pack without an explanation, furiously searching for the most androgynous clothing I had. After finding a plain blue men's kimono and a pair of white hakama, I grabbed the entire roll of bandages from the first aid kit as well. I yelled behind me a hasty "Explain in a minute, okay?" and ran to the bushes to change, my thoughts only on the prospect of some impassibly delicious 'commoner's' food. I left my friends' puzzled faces behind me, but before they could sort out what I had done, I returned, folding my other clothing back into my pack and strapping on my sword.

"What the… Captain, what exactly are you doing?" Matsumoto asked.

"You hungry?" I shot back, trying to regain my deepened voice. It sounded a little off, but if I decided to talk like that for the rest of the way, it would probably revert before we reached the destination.

"…Quite."

"There's a restaurant you'll like not to far from here, but it's frequented by members of the tenth division."

A few seconds of silence ensued, and then the light bulbs clicked on. Matsumoto and Momo both fell into peals of laughter.

"What?"

"Your voice sounds terrible. And your hair is in a bob. Boys do not have bobs." Momo said between her outbursts. She opened her own pack and threw me a container of hair wax and I quickly leaned forward and forced the loose strands of white into brutal submission.

"Any better?" I asked.

"Well of course," Matsumoto jeered, giving me a shot in the ribs with her elbow. "Miss (cough) Captain, you already look enough like a boy to pass as one."

"I am under the assumption that that was supposed to be an insult."

"Why-ever would you think that?"

I groaned. Maybe this was a stupid idea.

Later I grabbed the oilcloth flap and pulled it aside, letting a stream of light enter the disgusting place. Matsumoto and Momo looked only mildly surprised at the squalor, but very surprised at the number of black-robed people sitting at low benches, hunched over various plates of tantalizing dishes.

"No money, no food, assholes!" barked a familiar voice. Akira. I had hoped he was still working here, or else I probably would have walked out. I stifled a laugh, and the greasy chef came out from behind a counter with a very large knife in his right hand. Or rather, paw. Akira is a menacingly large dog-spirit with an attitude that somehow surpassed his scarred face.

"And that's the way you greet a snot nosed kid you used to extort money from, er, I mean an old friend?" I shot the towering man a death glare that was just shy of killing.

"Ya mutt," he growled, swinging the knife inches from my face. I remained unfazed, and it was only by my non-action that Matsumoto and Momo knew that he really had no intentions of hurting me. "Did I not tell ya to never show me yer ugly face again until ya became a shinigami, ya ass?"

This statement arose the interest of many of the patrons, and one hesitatingly mentioned, "Aniki, he is a shinigami. …Actually…"

"Actually what?" Akira shot his own glare of death into the poor girl who spoke up.

"Hitsugaya is our captain. That's the highest rank a shinigami can be."

"A Captain, huh?" Akira gave me a good once-over with an eye. "Well, I guess I'll just have to clear a table for the pompous douche and his mistresses, won't I?" He hit me hard with his free paw square on my back and gave me the closest equivalent to a smile his canine face could manage. "Good for you!"

We seated ourselves to a horde of watchful shinigami eyes, and plate after plate of food was served. You didn't order at Akira's. He served you until you said you were full, and then he charged you for it. He was always beyond fair, despite the fact that we were in such a terrible district. The only thing you really paid for was the food quality, because Akira didn't give a damn about the upkeep of the shop. (The kitchen, on the other hand, was a different matter. The last thing Akira wanted was his reputation ruined by a single food poisoning.)

He had us there long after the place cleared for lunch and he had closed up before the less hectic trickling of a dinner crowd. When the bill came, a horribly scrawled "I don't need your fucking money" was written instead of a price. After removing his apron and washing the gunk associated with cooking out of his fur, he grabbed a sitting mat and joined the three of us.

"Ass," he stated rather eloquently, grabbing me and pulling me into a hug. Only Akira could make cursing an acceptable art form. He let out a deep sigh and said, "So what have I missed the past three or four decades?"

"Too much," I said after a rather long pause.

"Well, for starters, ya got yourself a nice little mess of hormones. Ya got yer period right now, if my nose ain't fooling me."

The shade of red I must have turned probably created a new primary color. Stifled snickers came from my two traveling companions. So what if I did? I never understood why or how one could give birth in Soul Society, but it did help replenish souls that had been removed from the endless cycle. Anyway, the two of them probably had to deal with a yearly period, too.

Yet, I had no idea how to respond, but with Akira I didn't have to. "Poor mutt," he continued. "There's way too many girls like you resorting to what you do. I thought ya had the sense to figure out a way t' stop it. Or are ya still looking? If ya need a place to stay, ya can sleep and eat here. I gets me a lot of rumors floating through this place. O'course I knew ya was a Captain long before ya showed up today. I was just waiting for ya to try coming home."

Way too many? With his nose, Akira could easily sniff out the difference, I thought. So he, too, had known all along. If everyone knew, why was nothing said?

Still, I took Akira's offer without even asking Matsumoto or Momo, they would have done the same. The three of us grabbed out platters and chopsticks and deftly made our way to the kitchen to attack them with soap.

Akira yelled behind us, "Clean yer plates, girls, but don't in flippin hell touch my knives…

…assholes!"