A/N: Hey everybody, school's out, and it's time to write, write, and write! I'd like to have about two to three updates a week (if that makes you all happy), so I'll be working my butt off. Plus, I'll keep my writing in shape for when school comes up again. Yay. Now THIS is where the action starts, all you anxious readers. It's just the beginning, but we're out of the exposition now. Fasten your seat belts, guys. This is gonna get rough.

Chapter Fourteen – Keep Your Eyes Open

Hitsugaya has a number of pet peeves. His Lieutenant had always chided him for that, claiming if he were "always pissed off at something in life, he'd die an old geezer that parents would tell their kids to stay away from." Henceforth, Matsumoto had set herself out to bring the "awesome" things into his life, in hopes of raising his spirits and turning him into "a cheerful youngster." He had assigned her extra paperwork duty; her idea of "awesome" was bringing in the booze and distributing it to every member of the Division at midnight, drinking a toast to her Captain's growth and health, out of all things. She'd thought he'd stop growing, for goodness sake! He snorts, recalling the crazy memory. One of these days, he's going to have to put Matsumoto on strict rehab again, but he's well aware that it's fruitless. Old habits die hard, as they say.

But his Lieutenant was true about one thing: something always did piss him off. In fact, Hitsugaya can probably write an entire book, enlisting each of his pet peeves along with a detailed explanation as to why that certain thing makes him vent his spleen.

Around the top of his list: Kurosaki Ichigo. That bastard was arrogant and reckless. He'd charge headfirst into a fight without any plan or strategy and miraculously come out – victorious. That bothered Hitsugaya to no end. How does he manage such improvisation when he's practically driven to an edge? It also remains a mystery along with why the Substitute Shinigami could never acknowledge Hitsugaya as a Captain. Insisting on "Hey, Toshiro!" all day long and tramping around Soul Society with that enormous Zanpakuto hefted haughtily over his shoulder. Despite that, Hitsugaya respected the human and even considered him a friend. Countless times, they've relied on one another, and they've seemingly forged a strong camaraderie. He's missed the old asshole.

Another one of his pet peeves is the operating light above an ER. He can't stand it. It glares at him, red and accusing, as if blaming him for something. Hitsugaya fights the urge to whip out his Zanpakuto and cleave the light into two – but he firmly refrains himself. He's not a reckless idiot like Kurosaki. He is a calm, reserved Shinigami who actually thinks things through before acting. But that light is like a dungeon dragon, standing between him and Hinamori who fights for life inside. He desperately wants to help her, but that stupid light stands in the way.

"No one comes in until the light is off," Unohana had asserted. "We need no disturbance whilst operating on Hinamori-san." The warning was particularly intended for Sarugaki.

Hitsugaya casts a glance beside him. In the waiting room, three seats away from his own on the row of hospital chairs facing the ER, Sarugaki sits, arms crossed tightly over her chest, fixing the operating light with a glare of silent fury. I'm not the only one anxious, he muses. It just occurs to him that this Sarugaki Hiyori is just like Kurosaki. She is one who'd leap up and strangle that pestilential light, perhaps gnaw it off the wall and stomp on it until it breaks into fragments of wire and plastic. She's that impulsive.

"Alright, that's it," the blonde lifts herself up from her chair, cracking her knuckles like a boxer.

"What?" Hitsugaya blinks. He watches Sarugaki position herself directly in front of the door of the ER. She places her hands on her hips and looks up at the light.

"I'm tearin' this fucker down," she states plainly.

"Wait, what?" Hitsugaya scrambles to his feet. Were his predictions of this girl seriously true? That she'd actually develop the longing to attack an inanimate object? He is not sure whether to be satisfied that he forecast her correctly or flat-out confused that she adhered to his impromptu prediction. Before Sarugaki can make the first move, he puts a hand on her shoulder. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Get off o' me!" the blonde snarls, ripping away from his hold. Hitsugaya instinctively withdraws his hand to his sword – no, what is he thinking? He's in a hospital. He takes a deep breath, recomposing himself, and releases the grip on his Zanpakuto. Stay calm, cool, and collected. Sarugaki grits her teeth in frustration. "That damned piece o' plastic was pissin' me off so much! Just lemme get a go at it!"

"And disrupt the medical procedures that we're depending on to save Hinamori's life?" he reasons grimly. Sarugaki falters, and Hitsugaya continues, "Unohana strictly told us to not cause any disturbances. It's best if we stay quiet."

Sarugaki mutters a rude expletive under her breath before slumping back into her chair. She shoots the operating light, which still glares red, a last grimace and lets out a sigh of exasperation. "Damn it."

Hitsugaya chooses not to respond and examines the rows of stitching on the sleeve of his shikahusho for the twentieth time. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches the Visored girl impatiently tap her foot against the floor. About five minutes pass and he's counted up to two hundred fifty little stitches to the tempo of Sarugaki's tapping. The light above the door has not changed, as expected.

"Hey." Sarugaki suddenly stops tapping her foot and turns to face Hitsugaya with a serious look in her eyes. Hitsugaya regards her coolly. "I just wanna say that . . ." Her voice trails off. She bites her bottom lip, as if thinking about how to continue. Finally, she speaks again, "I just wanna say that I'm sorry."

"For what?" Hitsugaya says warily. There's no telling where this conversation will go, and he simply wants to be on the safe side.

The blonde scowls. "Don't make me say it again, dumbass! I'm sorry fer buggin' Hinamori so much. If it weren't fer my . . . alright, I'll say it, stupid words about Aizen, she wouldn't be all stressed out and be screwed up right now." She winces and turns away, obviously embarrassed.

Hitsugaya widens his eyes in surprise. The apology, frankly, caught him off guard; he'd never expecting a person of Sarugaki's character to find the guts and admit to her actions – even though she'd seemingly regretted apologizing afterwards. He has a newfound respect for the Visored – just a grain, but nonetheless much more respect than he had for her not too long ago. He nods. "Don't worry about it. Someone was going to have to tell her the truth about Aizen sometime or later."

Sarugaki chews on her lip, deep in thought, before murmuring, "I just don't get it, though."

"Get what?"

"Why she's so frickin' attached to that asshole. I mean, it's kinda hard not to realize that Aizen's a bad guy." She narrows her eyes at Hitsugaya. "Not to be rude, but is she mental?"

He exhales deeply and ponders for a moment. "And I hate to admit it, but when it comes to Aizen," he shakes his head, "there's no telling what she'll do." He recalls a couple of dark memories: the chamber of the Central 46, the Winter War. A tremor of apprehension courses through his system like a plague; he clenches his teeth. "Aizen was her Captain when was still with the Fifth Division." He notices that the blonde perks up at those words. "Ever since she entered the Academy and Aizen came in for a demonstration, she's been all over him, always talking about him when she came home, blathering about how she's going to join his Division. She practically worked herself to death, honing her skills to be Lieutenant-level. Once she reached Lieutenant, she grew really attached to Aizen. He was her idol, her savior, and her dream. And numerous times, he's hurt her – but she just keeps holding on. If she keeps this up, she'll go crazy."

"What's more, that bastard ain't dead yet," Sarugaki says quietly. "It's hard to sleep, knowin' that."

"Yeah."

"If I were the Central 46, I'd have killed 'im the second I'd the chance," she proclaims. "I'd lop his head off an' take sweet, sweet revenge on that dick."

Hitsugaya doesn't answer. He'd be going into confidential matters if this conversation went any further. Aizen's current status must not be disclosed with anybody, according to Yamamoto. Yet he agrees with Sarugaki. In his opinion, it was a dumbass decision not to immediately eliminate Aizen Sousuke; he's too dangerous to let live in Soul Society, let alone the universe. But he is an arsenal of information, just as valuable as he is dangerous.

There is a blinking above them, and the light sudden flickers off. Sarugaki immediately leaps to her feet, rushing to the shaded windows of the doors, trying to peer into the ER. Hitsugaya's heart hammers in his chest. This is it. In a few minutes, Unohana is going to walk out of that room with the verdict. He does not join Sarugaki by the door, staying anchored to his chair, trying his best to stay calm, but inside, his will screams to be let out, to barge into that damned ER, and to drag his best friend out of the dark, dusky room. About five minutes pass and no one has exited the emergency room.

"Goddamnit, get outta there, Hinamori!" Sarugaki groans, about to pound on the door, but after a second thought, drops her fist to her side. She sighs and plops down into the seat directly beside Hitsugaya. Alarmed by his closeness to the temperamental Visored, Hitsugaya sucks in a breath. Although they are on slightly better relations as opposed to earlier this month, he and the Sarugaki are not necessarily friends. More rather, they're acquaintances. Nevertheless, he relaxes and tries to push aside the thought.

Sarugaki makes a massive deal of bending over, tugging off a yellow flip-flop, and scrutinizing it with meticulous care. The thing is battered, probably several years old, its straps weathered down to narrow cords. The soles are thin to the point of disappearing altogether. Sarugaki stares fixatedly at the old flip-flop for another moment. She shrugs, and without warning, swings back her arm and using vile force, whacks Hitsugaya upside the head with the shoddy shoe. He chomps down on his tongue so hard to stop from yelping that warm, metallic-tasting blood quickly gushes into his mouth.

"What the hell was that for!" he hisses, whisking around to face Sarugaki, seething with fury. That was uncalled for, the attack.

Sarugaki inspects a nail and shrugs. "Can't help it. I was gettin' real pissed at this 'cause Unohana said that when the light's off, Hinamori comes out, but it's been five fuckin' minutes, and we haven't seen anythin'."

"That doesn't mean you can spontaneous assault a Captain! I can have you arrested for that!"

"Blah, blah, blah," the impudent Visored drones. Hitsugaya's bottom left eyelid twitches. Sarugaki slips her flip-flop back onto her foot and hops to her feet. "I was gettin' pissed like I said, so I had to hit the nearest, most convenient thing to me, and you happened t'be right in front o' me."

"That doesn't make any sense at all!"

"'Course it does, ya dumbass. Would you've rather I've destroyed that light?"

Before he can craft up a retort, the ER door opens, and Unohana with her entourage of nurses file out, pushing a rolling bed holding an unmoving Hinamori.

"She all right?" Sarugaki demands. Hitsugaya follows closely behind her, edging to see Hinamori's face.

Unohana turns to regard them. To Hitsugaya's surprise, she smiles. "Hinamori-san is doing perfectly fine."

"Seriously?" It takes a moment for him to realize that he spoke simultaneously with Sarugaki; much to his embarrassment, he turns away.

"Yes," Unohana replies. They turn around a corner, heading into the Rehabilitation ward. "Hinamori Momo's condition is an enigma to us. It seems she has gone into cardiac arrest – she has shown all the symptoms – but after about seven minutes of standard Kido treatment, she has miraculous been revived. We did not apply shock treatment at all. We were preparing to, in order to restart her heart, but she managed to sustain herself."

"That's great," Hitsugaya says immediately.

"But the strangest thing is . . . she is perfectly healthy at this moment," Unohana continues. "Her heart rate is normal, blood pressure fine. It is as if she never went through any cardiac arrest at all – in fact, she is simply sleeping right now; she is not unconscious, if you have presumed that."

"Wait, so I can just slap her, and she'll wake up?" Sarugaki blurts out.

"Technically, yes, but I would not recommend that." Unohana gives the Visored one of her "looks." Instantly getting the message, Sarugaki cringes and continues walking. "We are going to return Hinamori-san to her Physical Rehabilitation, but we will place her on a strict routine in the case that something like this recurs."

This all seems too good to be true. A miraculous recovery like this? Hitsugaya can't shake the thought out of his head. Although he is more than relieved that Hinamori is okay, something in the back of his mind nudges him to stay alert. They return to the Physical Rehabilitation room, where the nurses transfer Hinamori back to her bed. Unohana leaves Sarugaki a list of regulations Hinamori must abide by for the next week in order to ensure a safe recovery.

"I am trusting you on this, Hiyori-san," Unohana asserts. "I will leave an attendant to check in once or twice a day, but aside that, I am relying on you to make sure that Hinamori-san lives up to these procedures."

Sarugaki nods her head vigorously, clutching the paper slip protectively.

Sure been a rough day, eh? Blow-outs, miraculous recoveries, the fact that Hinamori forgot our scuffle – it's craziness. I won't be surprised if someone comes in with a jackhammer and pounds that Hanataro kid's head into the wall, trying to replicate Mount Rushmore in the Human World.

Hinamori woke up about five minutes after Unohana left because apparently, I was "too noisy." Hey, it ain't my fault. When midgets piss me off, I'm noisier than Rose's Flying-V. Anyway, Hinamori was all discombobulated after going through the operation, so she got our names mixed up and whatnot, but after about half an hour, she regained her landing and was actually competent to carry on a conversation. Knowing that I was going to face this sooner or later, I immediately launched into an apology for disparaging Aizen – which was painful, to say the least – but Hinamori strangely shook her head.

"You opened my eyes to something I never expected, Hiyori-san," she interrupted with a smile. "And I thank you for that."

I only responded with an uncertain grimace.

On the other hand, I noticed how Hitsugaya did not speak much to Hinamori during his visit. He just stood there, arms cross, observing our interchange. Whenever Hinamori spoke to him, though, he would respond with a one or two-word answer and go back to standing there solemnly. Now that kind of ticked me off a bit. He's her friend – heck, her best friend. Shouldn't he be less of a bastard and talk to Hinamori a bit? Maybe do a little more than only asking how she's doing and going into silent-mode? It boggles my mind, that midget.

Hitsugaya left about half an hour ago, and it's about eleven o' clock in the evening. The stars are twinkling in the sky, the moon glimmering apathetically, and I'd say it's about time to hit the sack. But before I settle myself in my pillows and sheets, I sit in the dark of the room, nonplussed. For some reason, despite the Hinamori's surgical miracle, I'm feeling a bit . . . apprehensive. It's like I'm sailing on calm seas, but something's telling me that a storm's going to appear any second. I turn towards Hinamori, a resting lump of covers breathing quietly in her bed.

"Hey, Hinamori?" I say suddenly.

There's a pause. Then she answers, "Yeah?"

"Can ya answer a question fer me?"

Another pause. "Uh, sure."

I stare at the shadowed ceiling, at the intricate shapes and figures made by the hiding light. "Why aren't ya mad at me?" It's an honest question that I've been itching to ask for the last couple of hours but haven't found the will to.

Hinamori coughs. "Wh-why would I be mad at you?"

I rack my brain for the concise words that'll obviate explanation, but my search is fruitless. If only there is a single magic word that'll carry the point across whenever you're fucked up. Now that'd make things a lot for easier. I manage, "Don't give me that . . . I . . . dissed your idol –"

"Hiyori-san," Hinamori interrupts with a hint of exasperation. "I already told you to forget it. The past is the past. You opened my eyes to something new, and I'm not mad at you at all for doing so. I'm sure we're both tired . . ." Her voice trails off. "Let's just get some sleep, okay?" Without another word, she pulls the covers over her head and drifts into a soft snoozing.

I sigh. I'm such a bitch. But slowly, I find my eyelids getting heavier, drooping lower. The shadows on the ceiling dance more lethargically, and my body is falling into sleep, despite my mind's protest.

"Hey, boss."

I'm dreaming again. This time, I'm in my subconscious mind, sitting on a sleek, black marble platform overlooking a stretch of cumulonimbus clouds rumbling softly below, floating in perpetually in a gray overcast sky. It's not that damned District 85. Thank goodness.

My blurry vision clears, and I see the bitch, my Hollow, sauntering up to me. She mockingly salutes me, giving me a lopsided grin, and spits over the edge of the platform. "Hey."

"What do ya want?" I growl. That's when I notice him there. Kubikiri Orochi. Standing right next to the bitch. Instinctively, I step back. No. "Why're you here?" I demand, pointing at my Zanpakuto's materialized spirit.

Kubikiri Orochi stands tall, at 6'6'', dressed in simple dark gray robes lined with navy and white trimming. He has the strength of a wrestler, muscle rippling across his limbs, but he is still lean. Dark, wavy hair covers most of his face, slightly masking his severe, stormy blue eyes, reaching down to shoulders, and he has a light speckling of stubble across his chin. It's been years since I've seen him.

"Hiyori," he says in his deep, rustic tone. He beckons me forward, and unwillingly, I comply. "It's been a while."

"No shit," I mutter.

Kubikiri Orochi puts a firm hand on my shoulder and looks down on me unpityingly. "You have neglected me, Hiyori."

"Ya could've said that sooner," I reply bitterly. "I dunno, maybe 'bout a hundred an' twenty years ago or so?"

"Why have you neglected me?" he asks regally. My Hollow, behind him, crosses her pale arms smugly. "I am not a melee Zanpakuto."

"You know the answer to that!" I shoot back fiercely, bristling. "You know perfectly well why I don't resort t'ya! Yer dangerous, Kubikiri Orochi!"

"That ain't the answer," my Hollow cuts in, shoving my Zanpakuto aside roughly. "You's just scared."

I don't answer because it's all true. I never use my sword's ability; I've passed it off as a melee weapon for so long, I've practically forgotten how to use it.

Kubikiri Orochi regards me knowingly; he's read my mind. "I understand, Hiyori. Despite that, you have used me well as a melee Zanpakuto."

The three of us – the bitch, my Zanpakuto, and I – stand wordlessly, the crackling of thunder beneath us, an infinite gray sky above us.

"Well," the bitch says finally. "I'm here just t'tella ya that ya've got t'make the final decision now. Are ya gonna stay wi' that Hinamori Momo or not?"

"Yes!" I say forcefully. "She's a friend!"

My Hollow gives me a look of . . . sympathy? She pats Kubikiri Orochi heartily on the shoulder. "She's all yers, buddy."

"Wait, what?" I object. What the hell is this?

"I'm out on this. Yer gonna have to rely on him –" my Hollow points to my Zanpakuto " – when yer fightin'. My contract's over until ya bag that Hinamori chick."

"No, I can't do tha–"

"Too bad." My Hollow begins to disappear. "So sad."

"Bitch!" I scream. "Ya fuckin' bitch!"

The last thing I see is Kubikiri Orochi giving me a nostalgic, lonesome look before turning away. And I wake up to feel the cold draft of an open window and to see a dark-cloaked figure wearing her hair in a distinctive bun leaping out in the night. I leap to my feet. Hinamori's bed is impeccably made, and it's empty.

A/N: Hey everyone, how'd you all like it? Feel free to leave some feedback and be expecting an update soon (one or two days, I hope). I've already got the next chapter written up, so who knows? Want it tomorrow? It's up to you guys, just let me know! :)