A/N: Hey everbody! Luckily, I've got an EARLY update this week due to the fact that homework stream from my teachers is quite sluggish - thank goodness. I would like to thank my beta reader, tii-chan17, for being such a diligent editor. Go check out her stuff - it's amazing! And I would like to give a shout-out to TheGodfather93, dragonballzlover2499, and El Frijolero for guessing who Lisa was visiting. Sadly, it wasn't Shunsui. I was going for Nanao because they liked to read together in the past. Nice try though, guys (thumbs up). I'd also like to note Mel72000 for leaving a review as well. Anyway, thanks for all the support, and enjoy the story!
Chapter Eleven – Walls and Fences
The second I get to my room, I storm past Hinamori, kick a chair over and flop down onto my bed without another word. I can't believe my "friends" framed me like that, conspiring behind my back about ditching me. If I had a hatchet, I'd go through Shinji's entire collection of jazz records and his vintage record player and chop through his "invaluable" original 1964 John Coltrane LP twice. Bastard.
Hinamori asks if I want to talk to her. It's an innocent question, but for some reason, I flare up. I find myself venting out my stress involuntarily. I cuss out my "friends," screaming out their deepest and darkest secrets, disclosing their most humiliating moments, letting world know about their failures and problems.
I diss Hachi's suit, crack a bunch of gay jokes about the color pink. He wears too much cologne; it almost smells like perfume. He needs to work out and put on some muscle instead of all that useless pig fat on his thighs.
I discredit Rose's musical abilities, claiming they're not legit. He can't play the piano for shit, much less pick a decent genre of music to listen to. Classical? Really? Grow up, asshole.
I disparage Love's hair. If he's trying to go for the afro look, it ain't working. He also needs to ditch those douchey shades.
I vilify Mashiro's stupidity. I swear, she's as dumb as a brick, and whatever flirting she's doing with Kensei, she ought to lay it off for a while. It just looks idiotic and disgrace, whatever she's doing with that redneck.
I downgrade Kensei's intelligence. He's all brawn and no brain, that dumbass redneck. He needs to get rid of that gross tattoo on his belly and also his Prince Albert.
I denigrate Lisa's credibility. Is everything she ever told me true? On second thought, most likely not. Her sources are those sick porn magazines she reads. She needs a life.
And lastly, I go full out on Shinji. I pick at his every folly. The time he tried to pick up a girl at a strip club but failed miserably. The time he made dinner for all of us and ended up burning down almost half of the warehouse. The time he thought "queer" meant creative and started calling himself that for a month until Love finally broke down and shone a light on him.
Hinamori just listens and agrees with me, nodding here and there. She sometimes adds in a question or comment, but mostly she sits in her bed, absorbing ever second of my rant with intensity. The way she listens and regards me so fixatedly only encourages me to keep going on.
An hour later, my anger dwindles down to a weaker simmer, and I am bone-tired from venting my heart out. Hinamori offers me a glass of water. I take it gratefully and chug the cool liquid down my dry throat.
To my surprise, Hinamori begins applauding soberly. She claps slowly, fixing me with an intense gaze.
"What?" I croak, throat sore. I am slightly confused; this really wasn't the sort of reaction I expected out of the sanguine, little sweetheart. I was expecting more of a sympathetic pat or a heartfelt hug. Hinamori seems like the caring type who'd deeply commiserate with me and try to understand my ordeal. But a simple applause? I incline my head.
Hinamori crosses over to my bed and sits beside me. "Hiyori-san. You've yelled your head off for the last hour straight – that's ridiculously remarkable. I understand that you are very upset over this. It's horrible, and I well know how bad it feels to be betrayed by someone you thought you could trust. But before you go on, I need to get one thing straight."
"Yeah?"
"Hiyori-san. You and your friends – where did you guys come from, if I may ask?"
My heart jolts in my chest. This is a very touchy subject that brings up dark memories; the very thought of it may invite a nightmare tonight that will leave me shivering in a cold sweat at three in the morning. All eight of us still have those nightmares, and it's not surprising for me to go in the kitchen and see someone already there, sipping a hot cup of tea for some comfort.
I'm sure that Hinamori senses my disconcertion, but she surprising presses forward. "Hiyori-san, I've told you many things about myself, but you've always seemed somewhat distant when we discuss you or your past."
I manage a laugh. It comes out strangled. "Y-you want to know about my past?" I pull off a garbled grin, continuing to laugh uneasily. "Th-that's boring! My past is pretty much nothing! Nothing at all!" I feel that I'm trying to convince myself more than Hinamori. "Nothing at all!"
"That's bullshit." Her dark eyes lock onto mine dead-on. I've never once heard the girl swear, not even blurt out a tiny "dammit!" Her seriousness is unnerving.
We sit beside one another, not budging for an endless moment, her gaze unrelenting, insisting for an explanation of who I am, where I came from, why I'm here. All these questions I've avoided, taking detours and choosing the winding, misleading path. I've known that I was going to face this sooner or later – just not this soon.
Perhaps talking to Hinamori will put the weight off my shoulders. Maybe I need to open up a little like a clamshell and show what's underneath.
Finally, I give in. "You wanna know about us?"
"Absolutely," Hinamori says. "Start from the beginning. From when you attended the Shino Academy."
Ah, the old days at the Shinigami Academy. Spitting on the teachers, sitting in lunch detention, receiving big, fat C's on my comprehensive tests – those were some of the good, old salad days. It's a wonder I was admitted into the Gotei 13 with my marks. It's not that I didn't want to do well (the curriculum was a easy as hell for me), I just didn't want to do the worthless paperwork and reports and shit. It all seemed a waste of time.
I begin talking about my first day at school, about meeting my first friend who happened to be Lisa. We were awkwardly sitting next to one another in homeroom, not exchanging a single word. Lisa was staring at some guy's junk, probably fantasizing about everything that she'd do to it, heatedly twirling her pencil in excitement. I, creeped out by such a sicko, tried not to watch the frenzied pencil and redirected my attention to prejudging our homeroom professor, a lanky, old man who desperately needed to shave off the last two or three strands of hair on his bald head.
Then, Lisa spoke to me, "Ain't he hot?"
Those three words nearly gave me a heart attack. After five or six years of traveling and wandering through the lands of Rukongai, I hadn't heard that accent from anyone else besides Shinji. Our lazy way of pronouncing our vowels and last consonants brought back childhood memories of my old home. I shuddered. Unease crept up my spine, ready to overtake me, overwhelm me.
I was about to excuse myself, feigning a headache, until the girl held out her hand in a strangely distant kind of cordiality. "Yadomaru Lisa. Nice to meet ya."
"S-Sarugaki H-Hiyori." I stammered, taking her hand.
"Where're ya from? Ya got the same accent as me."
I was very unsure how to answer. I had no intention of leaking out my past to a stranger; it was just stupid to do so.
I did the first thing that came to mind. I lashed out. "Ain't any of your business!"
From that moment on, Lisa and I inadvertently became friends. She nodded tersely, and we snapped to attention when the flakey, old professor geezer rapped his pen on the blackboard, indicating the beginning of our first day.
I tell Hinamori and how Lisa and I progressed through the Academy, about how Shinji graduated two years ahead of us and became a third seat, and about how Lisa and I slowly worked up to the positions of Lieutenants of the Eighth and Twelfth Divisions, respectively.
Hinamori listens intently, straining not to miss out on one single detail. Her eyes are alert and brighter than ever. Her hands do not fidget in her lap, totally still in two fists. I'll admit, she's a good listener; she makes me feel like I have something really meaningful to say.
"Wow," she breathes. "I never imagined you all . . . to be attending the Shino Academy. It kind of blows my mind."
I frown. "What? We were Shinigami just you like you. Of course we went to that hellhole!"
Taken aback, heat rises up to Hinamori's cheeks like a wildfire, and she looks away, abashed. "I'm sorry, it's just that . . . I've been hearing things like you guys were outlaws or something. I'm just really curious."
I almost crack up. "Outlaws! Listen, Hinamori, we ain't criminals. We all held positions as Lieutenants and Captains, well, until we were shipped outta here for some felonies, but that's beside the point. Long story short, just don't worry about it. We ain't gonna blow up Seireitei, I assure ya."
"But I don't understand!" Hinamori urges, nudging me slightly. "I've been meaning to say this, but what did you all do to make the Central 46 'ship' you guys out? I'm just really confused!"
I suck in a breath. This conversation's getting dangerous again. "It's a really long story and –"
"We have time."
"I don't know about that . . . it's really damn long. Probably take about several decades to tell." I am stalling for time now. Perspiration begins to form on my temple as I rack my brain for a palpable excuse to bolt.
Hinamori smiles, unaware of my stress. "It's fine! We're going to be stuck in this hospital for a while, so you might as well start."
"What'll take several decades to tell?" We whip our heads to the door to find that midget bastard, Hitsugaya, walking in with yet another bunch of flowers for Hinamori.
The girl perks her head up eagerly and waves her friend over. "Hitsugaya-kun! We were just talking about Hiyori-san's past! Would you like to join us?"
I blanch. Am I telling this to an audience now? I suddenly feel queasy, and the world flips itself upside down. I see spinning colors mingled disgustingly with Aizen's perfunctory, superficial laugh. His hand – it's deathly-white, enormous, and huge – descends down on my, slowly and cackling with glee. I see that sword, Kyouka Suigetsu, materialize in that hand with its emerald hilt and hexagonal guard. There's an agonizing pounding in my head, not exactly a headache but more like a palpitating heartbeat, or rather a countdown. Each throb sends jets of pain shooting through my mind, a psychological attack.
"You made a wonderful test subject for me that night, my dear."
I snap back to reality. Hitsugaya and Hiyori and conversing like old friends. The room is right-side up. No more spinning colors, no more Aizen.
"Hey guys, I'm gonna go outside and get some fresh air." I lurch myself out of my bed, push past a wary Hitsugaya, and make a beeline for the courtyard.
"Huh? Hiyori-san?" Hinamori says as I rush out the door.
Once outside, I briefly notice the yard's empty with the last rays of the sun turning a peach-pink color, letting the atmosphere extinguish and subdue their last lights of fire before I dash to a nearby hibiscus bush and retch my guts out. I let the toxins of Aizen's influence turbelently flush out of my system after each cough. So long, you bastard. Get the hell out of my mind, you creep.
I relax for a moment and let the cold, crisp air refresh my exhausted lungs. I take a few deep breaths. It's really unsettling to know that Aizen's still alive after all Kurosaki's done to suppress his power. That man who condemned us to years of exile is still in Soul Society as I speak, locked miles beneath the ground in Seireitei's most tightly-guarded quarters. Merely locked up and rotting down there like a piece of moss. It disgusts me to know that is how the Central 46 decide to deal with Aizen. Send him off, still walking on his two feet, just shackled.
He ain't dead yet.
That brings another up another purge of vomit. I empty out the contents of my stomach all over the budding hibiscus flowers mercilessly, not caring how I quenched their imminent beauty. I feel emaciated. Despite spending weeks in the hospital in an attempt to recuperate, I feel not the slightest bit better now. It's as if Aizen channeled that sickness and injury back into me, smirking as I suffer.
When it's finally all out, I clench a handful of clean hibiscus leaves and wipe my mouth crudely. I may have missed a spot, but what do I care? I just want to go home. I just want to get away from Soul Society, from Aizen locked up right under my feet.
It's starting to get colder. I have no intention of going back inside and facing Hinamori's inquiry again, so I find a sullen bench and slump down. The sky is turning dark, and some dark storm clouds are starting to swamp over the pink sunset mystique. The wind has become stronger and chillier. And I don't care. I occupy the full length of the bench, stretching my legs out across the old grains.
For some reason, I feel vaguely comfortable right now. Like someone's with me amidst all this inclement weather. I sit here for the next thirty minutes, hugging myself to keep warm. I'm thinking it's about eight in the evening based on the measure of darkness, but I still don't want to go back. I guess I'll just stay out here. It's more comfortable anyway.
The time passes, and I think about my past. I venture towards that iron fencing I have meticulously constructed around certain, undesirable memories using soft and discreet steps. I poke and nudge at the nooks and crannies of my defense only to find no response.
Hell, I can hardly remember. Instead of focusing on the big picture, I think of the nitty-gritty details. All right, her name was Hikari. His name was Kyo. Pa. A convulse of pain courses through my thoughts; I back off.
All of this reminiscing is simply way too painful. I thunk my head back onto the wooden armrest of the bench. Why is it so cold all of a sudden? I blink in surprise. Normally, I'm accustomed to chilly weather, but this. It seems the atmosphere's taken a drastic turn, dipping at least ten degrees down the thermometer. This cold's unpleasant.
A vehement gust of wind picks up my hair and yanks it forward in response. I wince as the blast pummels my head and crunches down on my exposed legs and arms. The hospital gowns really only cover a limited surface area of skin.
I really should go back inside, but frankly, I'm scared. So I exhale sharply and decide to sit out the storm until the morning.
I hear footsteps approaching, but I'm too frozen to see who it is. Unohana? She's probably flipping mad by now, so her footsteps would sound a bit more frenzied. Hinamori? Too slow. Shinji? Too organized. Lisa? Too stiff.
"Hey," the footsteps greet me with a cool tone. It's Hitsugaya. He seems unruffled by the weather, his arms crossed unexcitedly over his chest while the wind whips up his spiky hair. The little side-bang that crosses over his face dances fervently on the crest of the bluster. In contrast, he's completely composed.
"What do you want," I say despondently, refusing to meet his lowered eyes.
"I want to apologize about Hinamori."
"Yeah."
"No, I seriously want to apologize for her curiosity," he asserts.
I eye him suspiciously. He's seriously, all right.
Hitsugaya stands over me, pondering on how to continue. He looks at the ground in concentration before speaking again, "Hinamori's a bit intrusive sometimes when she wants to get information. I just told her back off some, to give others some privacy."
I watch that little white side-bang flicker and twirl in the air. It seems to have a freelance routine of pirouettes and leaps and twirls; it has a mind of its own. So free, and so lithe. I'm jealous.
"Sarugaki?" He regards me with his turquoise irises.
"What the hell are you talkin' about, dickhead?" I retort, eliciting a scowl from his once reserved expression. "There ain't nothin' wrong wi' me. I'm just gettin' some fresh air, stupid!"
Hitsugaya rolls his eyes. "I'm not the stupid one. No one 'not stupid' would go outside in near-freezing weather that's practically asking for a blizzard . . . just to get 'fresh air.'"
He's got a point. And that's seriously pissing me off. "What're ya implyin'!"
Hitsugaya heaves an exasperated sigh. "Listen, Sarugaki. If you're uncomfortable talking about . . . things . . . there's no need to say anything. Hinamori'll try to be more respectful," he shrugs and continues stiffly, "I hope. So don't worry about it."
I actually feel a single brick lift itself off my chest. I snort, "I don't know what the hell you're talking about, midget."
"Okay then," Hitsugaya replies. "I'm going to be on my way then."
I watch him head back to the hospital, his white haori sashaying back and forth in the wind like a flag. The bold "ten" on his back seems to cast me a last glance before he disappears down the hill and towards the main lobby, proceeding to check out. I notice how short he really is.
Feeling somewhat better, I slide off the bench and trudge back to my room through the ever-growing ferocity of the winds. As I approach my room, I think about that iron fence in my mind. Although Hinamori will refrain from asking questions, based on Hitsugaya's words, I can't lock away these memories forever. All doors are going to be unlocked sometime or later. Keeping that mind, I return to the room.
"Damn, it's cold out there," I say, absorbing the toasty heat like a solar panel.
"Hiyori-san!" Hinamori blurts out simultaneously. "I'm sorry for being so –"
"Not hungry at dinner?" I cut in. "Girl, I had to vomit out all the shit in stomach outside 'cause I had nothing to eat 'cause someone didn't feel like eatin' anything."
"No," Hinamori stresses, obvious ashamed of herself. Redness stretches across her cheeks, crossing over the bridge of her nose. "I meant for acting so intru –"
"How about this," I propose. "You stop being not hungry from now on, and I'll forgive ya for everything you've ever done to me, as if there's anything at all, okay? A win-win situation and hooray. All right? Deal. Now shaddap 'cause I'm gonna ring in some room service, and let's order a buffet. What do you feel like eatin'?"
A/N: How'd you all like it?
Hey, guys? Are you digging The Hunger Games as much as I am? If so, you might want to check out my "The Rukongai Games" story (which also employs a HiyorixHitsugaya pairing - woo!). It's a spin-off from The Hunger Games series, using the idea of the Games and substituting in respective Bleach characters (i.e. Hiyori's going to be my "Katniss").
Also, I'm working on a new fanfic named, "Different," which explores the newfound relationship between Hinamori and her captain, Shinji. It would make my world if you all were to check those out and leave some feedback for me!
Please, please, please gives those two new works a chance! Gosh, I better wrap up this note quick before it becomes longer than the chapter! Eek!
Thanks to all the dedicated reviewers out there! You all brighten my day whenever I see a review alert in my inbox - seriously, you do. And please leave some feedback, you shy readers out there! How about this . . . you leave me some constructive criticism . . . AND I'LL LEAVE YOU A REVIEW TOO! Hurray! Yeah, that's what I'll do. Some help for help in return. Anyway, enough with the subliminal advertising! See you all at the next chapter!
