Disclaimer : Skip this part already please….im totally running outta ideas of what to write here.

Chronicles Of The Past

Chapter 14

Breaking The Blizzard

Minutes ago Hinamori would've given up everything to just curl up and die in the snow. Maybe the snow wouldn't be such a bad deathbed. Maybe it would be warm, and puffy, and cute and gentle. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea after all to die in the snow.

But now she was walking, trudging silently against the cold wind that was biting her through every single one of her efforts to move forwards. A ray of hope had shown itself in front of her. The footsteps had led her somewhere, and she could see the tiniest crisp of small yellowish light , burning in the distance behind safely papered wooden windows. A village. The footsteps have guided her to a village.

And clinging onto that sole hope inside her chest, Hinamori ploughed through the endlessly freezing snow.

An intense blow of wind smacked her in the face. Hinamori fought to keep her balance as she let the wind through. She's close. She couldn't give up now. Not even when th cold has already penetrated her bones, not even when she felt like her blood could freeze cold any second now.

Her little feet climbed up the steepy slopes of snow leading to the village. Already she can see the sheer light burning inside small wooden houses, which were doing their best to withstand the wind. Houses were lining up from where she was standing. Hinamori made up her mind, and pulled the rest of her strength in store to the houses nearest to her.

Hinamori brought her frozen knuckles forward and knocked, her lips wincing in pain as her iced up knuckles came into contact with the hard wood. She waited and trembled, another strong gust of wind has just went past her.

The answer was sooner than expected.

Hinamori heard some footsteps against the wooden floor of the house inside and a lock turning, and then an eye peeking through a very small gap of the door.

"What do you want?"

The voice was harsh, flat and jagged.

"I –"

Hinamori squeaked out a voice, but the long period of time she spent out in the cold had made it hard.

"Please help my friend, he's a shinigami and he's-"

Hinamori heard the door smack hard.

"Please sir, you've got to help me!"

Her voice trembled of frustration. But the door slamming in front of her face had been the only answer.

Knowing she had not been welcomed, Hinamori slid off the front of the house and moved on to the next. Slowly she ascended the steps to the front door, and, peeking through the paper layered windows, she tried another go at her knuckles.

One knock. Another wince.

Two Knocks, the wince grew into a hiss.

Three knocks, and Hinamori pulled away her knuckles and stared blankly into it, too overwhelmed by the pain. Blood was prickling down the skin between her knuckles. Too much pressure had been applied to the door, and her skin, being in such a frozen and dry state, had ripped apart. Hinamori could feel her own blood trickle down her palm. It wasn't warm anymore. It felt cold.

But soon the pain drifted away. The cold had devoured it.

Hinamori used her fingers to rap the wooden door.

She stood outside. Small and fragile and cold, waiting for someone to answer the door. Her hands found their way to her arms. She tried desperately to rub them against the skin on her arms, hoping that would generate enough heat to keep her holding more.

The door swung open. A man was on the heels. Half of his head was filled with grey hair.

Hinamori took her chance. She couldn't bear standing out in the cold anymore. If she could just get in for a while, just for a little while, the fire crackling inside the hut looked very tempting –

"Excuse me sir, I was wondering if I could come in for a while, it's really cold out here-"

Hinamori blinked. Sometimes being all innocent and straightforward without realizing it could help.

The man hesitated, and then motioned her to come in.

Hinamori almost couldn't believe how the situation turned out. She stepped inside the room and looked around, tatami mats under her freezing feet. An old woman, with her hair tied back in a bun came closer to her, observing her with her old, clouded eyes.

"You fool! "

She yelled to the man.

"A duckling like this and you let her outside in the storm?"

Hinamori looked up to meet the old lady's eyes. It was shining with disappointment. The man shrugged and sat down at the mat, sipping his tea.

"Come here child, you must be freezing. Let me look at your hands."

Hinamori showed her.

"Dear gods of winter! You're bleeding! Come, come here child, come sit near the fireplace. Let's get you warmed up before I mend your wound."

The old lady then pushed her back and nudged her to walk next to the fireplace. Hinamori blinked and did so.

" A child your age. What have you been doing out there in the snow, my child?"

She rushed to a creaky and tattered old cabinet, a speedy lady for her age, and pulled out some bandages.

And sometimes, innocence and straightforwardness can kill.

"I was looking for help baa-san."

"Oh dear child, you came to the right place, what kind of help do you need?"

"A friend of mine needs help, he's a shinigami and-"

Hinamori paused. A crackle of the fireplace went by. Now she realized the impact of just one word to the entire household.

The man shot upright right way, and stepped to where she was standing and pulled her up, grabbing her by her yukata collars, similar to men who were uprooting disturbing weeds inside their gardens. Hatred was in his eyes, inexcusable hatred.

"No! Wait! Please listen, sir. He's dying, he needs help-"

But the man acted as if he didn't even hear her. Maybe his ears even blocked themselves out. He didn't even speak a word when he lifted the kicking and yelling little Hinamori and carried her to the door.

And with one swift movement, he threw her out of the house.

Hinamori landed with a rash thud in the blizzard. She fell on her side, her shoulders and her right arm breaking the fall. Her left arm immediately reached for her weakened and wounded arm, trying to shoo away the pain. Cold once again eating her entire body, she blinked for a couple of seconds to keep the snowflakes out of her eyes.

"Filth."

The man muttered under his breath.

"Trash."

Hinamori tried to lift herself up but her shoulders wailed in agony.

"Sir…..baa-san….please ……. I really need your help-"

But one bucket of deviously, impregnably, outrageously cold water found their way to her as an answer.

The little helpless girl didn't even see that coming. She stared forwards. Her eyes looking blankly forwards, to the face of the old lady, now distorted with wrath and fury like none she had ever seen to have crossed an old lady's face.

The water had hit her like a sharp guillotine over a fresh pile of meat. She had fallen prey for it, and was slowly getting devoured by the cold. The cold seeped inside her body, faster than ever, freezing her veins, freezing her nerves.

She couldn't even shiver anymore. All she could do was stay still, rooted, frozen to the spot.

"Death gods and people like you should freeze to death, with their own kind."

The words came out of the old lady's mouth.

And that was the last she heard of them, before the door slammed shut.

Hinamori lost control of her left hand and her head fell back to the snow. Her whole body seemed heavy. Her vision blurring slowly into white. Her skin felt like they were on fire, a very cold fire. She couldn't feel her legs. She couldn't even make sure if her limbs were still attached to her body or not. Too numb in the cold to tell.

"Death gods and people like you should freeze to death, with their own kind."

Her eyelids closed. Her head was killing her, it was screaming, calling out to her to lift the pain off. But she couldn't do it.

Freeze to death with their own kind.

Hinamori was tired. She never felt this tired. She was so tired that she felt she had to let go, she had to let all of them go, and just rest, in this blissful snow. Her vision blurring into more white.

Freeze to death with their own kind.

Hinamori's eyes snapped open.

Their own kind.

Hinamori's eyes began to refocus and slowly, images started to refamiliarize themselves with her.

Now she knew where she has to go.

Hinamori stood outside the majestic doors of the court of pure souls. Like an ant standing in front of a huge table. She was so small compared to its mass and height. Yet she stood there, all the last bit of her strength gathered up for this moment.

Hinamori knocked on the gates, hitting the solid, unmoving concrete that weighed over a few hundred tons. She knew she didn't even make a sound, but she kept hitting and knocking.

The wind howled and mocked, sending more volumes of cold air into her body all the more.

Until she could feel the tips of her hair start to freeze.

Until she could feel her lips swell in the cold, and her yukata, turning into ice.

Until she can no longer feel the pain of hitting the gates.

Until she had no idea that her knuckles had long since split open.

Until she realized that her blood was stamped right there, on the gates themselves.

Until there was no more strength left in her to do it.

Hinamori let herself slide down to the ground of snow. Her eyes dry without tears. The thing is she could no longer cry. The blizzard had frozen her eyes. Her head lolled forwards, her forehead touching the gates.

She tried moving her beaten and bloody knuckles forwards, but she could only touch the gates, not hit them.

Shiro nii-san, gomen.

I tried.

And with those last words on her head, everything faded into nothing.

Urahara Kisuke had been walking home to his headquarters on an investigation party with his subordinates when he found a lump of maroon yukata buried in the snow. Intrigued by his own curiousness, he decided to kneel before the odd scene. With the blizzard constantly blowing in his ears he touched the yukata, and was surprised to find it to be quite – solid.

Urahara wasn't captain of the 12th division for nothing. Her recognized the solidness to be human. So he gently turned the body over.

Urahara's eyes shifted uncomfortably. He was looking at a little ordinary girl, half frozen in the blizzard. Her lips blue, her eyes closed with snowflakes stuck on her eyebrows and eyelids, her cheeks showed purple shades, her hands frozen and bloody, and the tips of her hair frozen.

He averted his eyes from her hands and looked into the snow where he found more patches of blood, and then to the gates where her blood was signatured there.

Without anymore shilly-shallying, Urahara lifted her light body in his arms and took her with him.

When Hinamori's eyes fluttered open, all she could see was grayish black. And then slowly, as her eye muscles rejoined and reflexed, everything became clearer. She was staring at a lacquered wooden ceiling. The next thing she did was tilting her head sideways. She realized she had been sleeping under a deliciously thick blanket, and supported by a warm white futon and a snuggly pillow. Someone had removed her yukata and replaced them with a more substantial white one.

But where is she?

"Hey stupid."

Hinamori's eyes fluttered open in an instant. If there was a time when her heart could stop beating out of shock, then this was one of those times.

Beside her, sitting in a totally nonchalant way with his legs propped up against one another, was the one and only, shiro nii-san. Alive. Breathing. Talking.

Smiling.

Hinamori had made a promise back then when she fumbled desperately for help in the snow, that she'd never cry again. Solely for his sake. But right now she'd have to call herself a liar for not keeping her promise. Tears pooled down her beautiful eyes before coming down her cheeks in a steady stream of beautiful glinting fluid.

He is alive. He's safe. He's okay. He's there with her. He's all she needed.

Hinamori closed her eyes and felt her heart slowly being devoured by the extreme rush of relief. She didn't know what to do without him. He had become such an important existence to her. All this time she thought of losing him. And now he's back with her, miraculously. She didn't quite know how else to react. Crying was her natural talent from the start. And with encouragements like these, she just got better.

"Don't cry, you stupid."

Which, paradoxically, just triggered more of those tears.

Hearing him speak, to her. Hearing him with his usual sarcasm, as if nothing changed –

" Your face looks so weird crying."

Hinamori didn't fight back against his remark, and when he pinched her both cheeks with his thumbs and point fingers. But it was the next thin he did that startled her.

He leaned over her, and, clearing her bangs away, gently pressed his lips on her forehead.

The single trice healed all her wounds. The wounds on her body, the wounds in her heart. Everything.

And, feeling his warm breath on her forehead as he pulled away, she was grateful they found each other. More grateful than ever.

"See? Your face looks so weird."

Hinamori's eyes winced in overwhelming feelings she couldn't describe. A part of her was beyond happy, and yet she still find her hear occupied with feelings that are even closer to the urge to-

Hinamori's hands freed themselves from the blankets and reached out for his neck, grabbing him, hugging him in her small arms.

Hitsugaya's eyes widened for a small fraction of second. And then he smiled. A smile only for her.

And she sobbed quietly on his chest.

"Baka."

Urahara had only slid the door to his office when he saw that the half frozen girl he rescued out of curiosity from the crouching winds was already up and awake and cradled silently in the silver haired boy's embrace. So he decided to let them be, and slid the door back to its original state. And sighing, he left his own building, thinking of actually doing such act to a certain sexy long haired and tanned goddess.

After rescuing her small body from the predatory blizzard outside, he resorted to reading her mind. The simplest way all shinigamis would do to trace tracks and clues of a non respondent or unconscious subject. And that's where the 12th division captain found memories of an incredibly fast paced tale about another shinigami he'd very much like to comprehend himself, and a very strong need to save the bare existence of this soul, so he obliged to her will, thinking that by doing so he would definitely acquire more info about this certain shinigami.

He could always question them later. He had pretty good questions in his mind, after all. Like how come he's got a captain of the 10th division mark sitting on his back in such a carefree way while soul society has already got one? And how on earth a kid like that have such an incredibly ridiculous amount of spirit power?

He will question him later. And the girl too, if needed.

The image of him holding the little girl tightly in his arms flashed across his mind.

He will not do them any harm. There was something about them that activates his conscience and urged him to help them.

He will just, ask questions.

Her russet eyes rolled into action. Same wooden colored tiles. Checkered wooden windows. On her right she saw a desk filled with papers and tinkling silver instruments she's ever seen before. And the room was huge, so this can't be rukongai.

What is this plac3e?

An office?

Hinamori blinked, and all she could see was white. She buried her head deeper in his chest. He was wearing white, the color balancing inwardly to his hair.

"Shiro nii-san? You're okay.You're …. Okay."

Hinamori meant not for her voice to stutter like that, but she couldn't help it. He was okay. After all she's done. He's okay. After her failure. He's okay.

"Of course I'm okay, you baka. I've always been okay."

-whenever you're around.

He added in his head, as he moved his right hand to her head, comforting her.

"But you, you were… not breathing, Shiro nii-san. I thought you were-"

"Dead?"

(flashback)

Hitsugaya blinked to the warm yellowish sunray teasing his eyes. Urahara brought his legs together on the carpeted wooden floor of his quarters, motioning the white haired boy to not strain himself to get out of his futon. Hitsugaya shifted his gaze sideways, and noticed his black shinigami clothes folded neatly into place next to his haori. Next to them, nestled in a thin blanket, was his zanpakutou.

"That was a very dangerous thing you've been through back then, shinigami-san."

Hitsugaya faces the other way, and came face to face with the one and only Urahara Kisuke, captain of the 12th divison bureau. Who looked not less different than the flamboyant and nonchalant guy he knew, and who would surely not recognize him. At least not until another 50 to 70 years. This might proceed harder and way more complicated than he thought.

Hitsugaya ran his palm to his forehead, as if checking his body temperature.

" May I have the honor to know what a shinigami like you were doing in such a place?"

Hitsugaya weighed his options. Urahara was no namby pamby guy, if he had somehow came to his rescue, he might have already at least filled his own head with a thing or two about him. So when he found no records of him, considering that by this time of year, he had not exacty – existed, yet, it could be implied that- well, no lies can trick him.

"Where is she?"

"Safe, under my wing."

"I need to see her."

"That goes for later. I assure you, she's safe and –"

Urahara severed his sentence in mid air.

Sudden chill had mortifyingly occupied the room. Urahara smiled, and then looked to the white haired boy's snarling, growling eyes.

A dragon, no doubt.

"I just need to ask a few questions before that."

"Make it fast."

"Why did you suppress your spirit power? Why didn't surrender yourself to soul society? Why did a shinigami like you have to live in rukongai."

'I'd attract too much attention."

"From the rukongai villagers?"

"From them. And from your people."

They were silent for a while, before the white haired by continued .

"- and that bastard hollow."

Urahara removed his winter protection coat. Could he possibly be talking about the same hollow he's been trying to track down for seven consecutive months?

"But seven months. You can't suppress them that long. No one can."

Urahara looked down on his heels. His mind was spinning. How did a kid like him get such monstrous spirit power?

"I believe you do know the consequences of you suppressing your spirit power?"

"That it breaks loose into a lunatic blizzard like this, you mean?"

"In a way of saying, yeah."

"Yeah."

"Ara - But why? Even if the rukongaians find out about you, or us, we'd just question you, or probably even recruit you, you can be our next once in a thousand years tale-"

"I had to. If I didn't-"

Hitsugaya took one invisible gulp down his throat, anger flaring in his eyes..

"-I'd hurt her."

Urahara was quiet for a while, before he spoke again, in a more serious manner.

"Who exactly are you? Why aren't you in soul society when you're a shinigami?"

"Look Urahara-"

"And how did you know my name?"

-And address me without my title?

"Listen, Urahara. I know things you don't. And you know things I don't. I'll spill everything out. Later. Right now I have to make sure she's safe."

Hinamori was silent. She couldn't bear thinking about the very word itself. Especially when she think it could happen to him.

"Momo. I'm not gonna die, okay?"

I can't die. I have you.

I won't die.

Hinamori lifted her head up and looked at him in the eyes, a small, worried pout dangling on her lips.

"Promise?"

The glinting chestnut colored eyes, the rosy cheeks wet with tears, the slightly swollen lips. Momo –

"Promise."

Hinamori still fixed her eyes on his. But it's different now. She was looking at him with eyed filled with happiness. And then she returned to his hug. Where she belongs, and always will.

"You mean this hollow has the power to transfer souls through time?"

Hitsugaya stayed silent. He was waiting for the next impact.

"That explains the massive disappearances. So all these people are stranded somewhere in different time continuums?"

"Most likely."

"Damn, what're they gonna come up with next? Hollows that can devour planets?"

Urahara took a while to get his hands out of his pocket.

"So what's the future like?"

"As it always is."

"Good answer."

"Don't tell anyone about this."

Urahara looked into the younger boy's brilliant jade green eyes.

"I will fix it."

"I'll help you."

Urahara shoved his hands back into his pocket and walked away.

"Besides, what will Yama-jii do when he finds out that there's a better 10th division in store?"

Urahara no yatsu. He never changed.

So what's the future like, huh?

He'll be carving them with his own hands.

But one thing he knows for sure.

He will come back. It is his destiny.

a/n:

urahara no yatsu --- urahara, that guy..

there! I said it, a way to help hitsugaya find a way to go back to where he came from! Hohohoho. Oh, and thank you so much for the lovely, lovely reviews guys, you rock! How did urahara rescue hitsu again? Well, that's where your imagination soar, guys. My version is that he went through the storm and picked him up to his quarters, then he managed to find something to block hitsu's ridiculous amount of spirit power, and keep it under its master's control. Urahara is, after all, the captain of the 12th Division. And in case you guys forget, he's a much better captain than that slimy foul grime of a Mayuri. But you guys can come up with something better, eh?