A/N: Well, this didn't turn out very long. I don't know why, but it was very hard to write, probably because I have such problem describing scenes that are suppose to be, hm, involving tension and action? I don't know. I hope you're not too disappointed. In the next chapter we're continuing with Hitsugaya, so review and be my muse because my muse has hid somewhere and refuses to come out. The bitch...

Sasaki Akira had been working in the castle for many, many years now, hoping in vain that his efforts and loyalty would be appraised and when the time came he would become something more than just the gray servant, the purpose of whom was to never be seen or heard by his masters. His face was angular and plain – small eyes, thin lips, dry, paper-like skin - indiscernible by all means, and even the guards that he passed by each day could not tell anything particular about how he looked. He did his job strictly, with the accuracy and punctuality of a well-designed machine, the existence of which was never taken heed of. And that was that.

Posing a tray with food and water, he strolled down the corridor and up the staircase, his experienced feet recognizing and avoiding all obstacles that were the minor cracks, flaws and protuberances in the steps and the tiles. The purpose of his current labor he didn't really know – he was mildly informed about some prisoner that apparently needed to be fed with some of the best dishes that were cooked in the stronghold (his brain didn't really feel the urge to dig deeper – one of the purposes why he had been chosen to do what he did) and so at equal intervals every day he would climb the many, many dozens of steps up the tower, walk through a well-guarded door, round several corners and bring the meal to princess Akane. A bow was to follow and then he would go till the next time he had to fulfill the same cycle. Yes, Sasaki Akira was a very loyal, very undervalued servant that was going to continue doing his jobs in silent prays one day he'd be assigned to a higher rank. And till then, no complaint would dare leave his mouth.

He reached the guarded door at exactly the same time he did every day, and as always, the four guards stood divided I twos on either of the frame's sides. They looked so utterly browned off that they merely threw the 'squit' a sideward glance before unlocking for him to continue. Akira proceeded his small journey, subconsciously counting the seconds in his head as he rounded the first two corners peacefully, only to be seized by a surprisingly strong hand on the third one.

"W-wha-" he managed as he was pressed against the cold stone wall, the tray yanked from his hands so swiftly he didn't even have the time to feel it's absence. The first thought that crossed his mind was that his schedule was ruined; the second that there was something oddly familiar about the tall handsome man that was now covering his mouth with his palm. Sasaki blinked, bewildered as the smell of winter wrapped around him like a soft, peculiarly un-hostile blanket.

"Dammit." Hitsugaya hissed, eyeing the man up and down with annoyance. "You're old," That, Sasaki already knew. He had been swallowing the fact ever since he turned 40 two years ago.

"No matter." The white-haired stranger said, his mouth twisted with annoyance as he contemplated the circumstances in his mind. "Not much of a choice anyway. Take off your clothes."

The man was shocked, his eyes widening with panic as he shook his head slightly 'no'. Hitsugaya let out an exasperated sigh, his other hand finding the man's neck.

"I don't want to hurt you, but if you don't cooperate, I'll have to. Now take off your clothes."

Five minutes later Hitsugaya, already clad in Sasaki's attire, was thanking all deity the servant had a hat. Left with only his underwear, Akira was sitting quietly against the wall with the boy's white raiment laying snuggly in his lap and was trying to push his phlegmatic brain to figure out what this was all about.

"You're that prisoner?" the servant suddenly said, eyeing Toushiro with quite untypical curiosity. "But… You're so young."

"And you're so old." The captain flipped sarcastically as he struggled to jam as much as he could from his hair into the hat. "What's your point again?"

"You look so familiar…"

Hitsugaya rolled his eyes and knelt in front of the man, pulling the belt he was previously using to fasten his white attire to his slim waist and nodded towards the servant's wrists.

"Just one more thing before I go?" he asked, tilting his head to a side with a friendly smile adorning his pale lips. A minute later Sasaki was tied to one of the bars on the window, a piece of white sleeve stuffed in his mouth and Hitsugaya was walking away with the tray in his hands.

Toushiro's feet really hurt – because not only was that man old (which apparently could ruin his not-so-clever disguise in a trice) but he also had tiny shoes. Walking around barefooted without attracting attention was impossible and you didn't have to be a genius to figure that much out – but damn, his crammed toes were screaming for space! He didn't even want to think about how he'd 'just' have to bear it until he got out of the guard's sight because it pained him to imagine the minutes. At least it was going to be over soon for the gate was already in sight.

Keeping his head lowered so that the brim of the hat shadowed his eyes, he knocked on the door in the end of the hall. This was it. As far as he knew, most guards didn't really pay attention to the servants that passed them every day but it was still very risky. It wasn't hard to notice that a slightly taller, slimmer, younger version of the man who had entered was now coming out. But Hitsugaya didn't have a choice. And really – all that he needed was for them to open up – then he'd have the chances to at least fight back if it all went wrong.

A unfamiliar face peeked between the bars of the small rectangle hole on the top of the door and a frown furrowed the guard's brows. Don't look up. Don't. Look. Up. If anything, a pair of piercing eyes with such strong, intense color as his were hard not to notice so he resisted his natural urge to glance at the man and lowered his lids, hoping it would do. A small pause hung between them, cold and solid like a glass-wall. Then suddenly a soft click was heard and Hitsugaya's gaze snapped up. Luckily, the guard wasn't paying attention anymore, too busy pulling the door open to let 'Sasaki' through and as the deafening, hair-raising screech of wood grinding against the stone floor filled the air, the boy couldn't help the warm wave of relief that wash over him.

"Off you go." Came a bored drawl and a bulky hand gestured to him to leave. Silent as a fish, Hitsugaya scrambled to obey, reminding himself to be cautious and not to trip over nothing with his undersized footwear. Struggling to keep his pace normal and casual, he had just left the four guards a few steps behind him, when the voice of the one who opened the door for him caught up with him.

"Hey, you!" Hitsugaya froze, sweat instantly dewing his temples as he resisted the urge to just make a run for it. "What, the princess didn't like the meal?"

A quite inane group laughter filled the air as Hitsugaya glances down at his full tray with sincere bewilderment. These guys must be really bored to laugh over this…

"Turns out she's allergic to cinnamon." He had blurted out the fib before he could stop himself but the moment the words left his mouth, he wished he had just bitten his tongue and remained speechless according to the initial plan. The place fell deafeningly silent and Hitsugaya squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, cursing himself. He could practically feel the perplexity and bafflement seep through those men's pores as their small, doltish eyes bored into the back of his head. Then, just as he was beginning to plot his far more blatant escape, that voice echoed again, bouncing off the walls with such incredible blithe that the boy all but gawked.

"Well, whaddaya know? He can speak!" more crude, loud-mouthed guffaw followed and Hitsugaya awkwardly took part in the clamor. "You should do this more often! Such a young, pleasant voice… Reminds me of the good old times, ne?"

He couldn't believe he was having his conversation. His feet were killing him and all he wanted was to just get out of these men's sight and kick these tiny shoes off. Right now.

"Eight cups of tea with lots of honey every day." Hitsugaya suggested stupidly. "You'll immediately feel the difference." And he hurried to leave before the exceptionally eager men had drawn him into another chat.

He had been held in a sort of a tower, he realized as he kicked his shoes off, hefted them in one hand just in case and continued to descend the seemingly endless staircase. The stone felt cold and unpleasant against his bare soles but it was better than having his feet crushed.

When the steps finally ended, he found himself in the middle of a long corridor. From this point on, he priority objective was finding where they kept Hyourinmaru and getting the sword back. Once that was accomplished, getting out would be a lot easier. The question was – where was the zanpakuto? If this place was as big as he imagined it, this could take ages. He needed to narrow the specter. A map of the castle would be helpful(not that he really hoped to find a large red "X" there to indicate where his soul piece was hidden…). The way he imagined his capturers' logic, they didn't guard him all that carefully because they knew that he had nowhere to go without Hyourinmaru, which of course, meant that wherever the dragon katana was held, it was probably well-defended.

Hitsugaya threw the tray in one of the niches along wall and looked around, exhaling slowly through his nose. His choices of directions were quite limited, really, and there was no one to tell him which option was better, so after a moment of exasperation, he turned right and soundlessly sprinted down the corridor.

It took Ikeda Hiro, the guard who had let Hitsugaya pass, about fifteen minutes to realize that the muffled sounds that came from the other side of the door were not the wind, whooshing through the rifts of the tower. After bringing up the matter to his comrades they reached gradually to the conclusion that they should probably investigate what was going on and carefully followed the noise. Their cautiousness was unreasonable, for all they stumbled upon was a half-naked, gagged man with a vaguely familiar face, the identification of whom proved to be a bit of a difficulty. After solving the riddle, three of the guards hurried to free Sasaki, while the fourth one scrambled off to find Akane and see if she was hurt.

"Who was the guy who went back with the tray?" Ikeda asked with suspicion as he pulled the piece of cloth from the servant's mouth. Sasaki shook his head indefinitely, earning a sigh of exasperation from the other man. "I knew there was something off about him speaking up! You're such a boring piece of nothing!"

"That guy was probably the prisoner. You don't have to be a genius to figure that much out." One of the other guards replied impassively. "We should inform princess Shinju and announce his escape. He could've gone anywhere by now. More troops should be sent off to find him."

"No." came a firm voice from the other end of the corridor as Akane approached with large steps the group. "No one is to know about Hitsugaya's escape. We must find him on our own."

"But Your Highness…"

"No one." She stressed, her intense gaze sliding from one face of another before landing on Ikeda's. "Especially my sister. Understood?"