It had been several days since the fight. Once healed of the worst of their wounds, the battered warriors had gone on regular patrols to find the people who had brought the winged woman into their lives, and then taken her away just as quickly.
Each and every time, they returned to the shop disappointed and frustrated. Nothing was found. Always nothing was found.
Renji and Jyushiro had left that afternoon after yet another unsuccessful prowl around Karakura and Tokyo. They were both high ranking officers, and had to take care of their own responsibilities in their own world, after all. They had both been resigned to their duties, although neither of them liked it.
Through it all, Rukia had remained in the Soul Society, thanks in part to her brother's protective nature, and Captain Unohana's orders. The small statured reaper had taken a number of hits from the humans' whips, as well as their guns, and had been the unfortunate brunt of attack from a particularly nasty hollow. It was a wonder that she had been able to make it to Urahara and his group at all.
Regardless, with their fresh absence, it seemed even more as if Meg and her current captors hadn't even existed in the first place.
Battle scars in earth had somehow disappeared overnight, and the crumbling hospital had been restored to its former, run down state.
On the one hand, it would have just been easier to rip it down and leave a vacant lot in its wake, but Kisuke had the feeling that would have been just a little too conspicuous. These people most definitely did not want traces of their presence to linger, and they had expertly done all in their considerable power to make their disappearance complete.
It could very well have been a shared dream.
Physical wounds indicated otherwise, however, and emotional wounds carved especially deep – most notably for the young Quincy.
The shopkeeper was worried for the Uryu Ishida. Those usually bright blue eyes had been glazed when they parted company after that final battle, and Ichigo had said that the young archer had scarcely said two words to him or anyone else he knew of since that day.
Urahara frowned as he knelt in the training ground where the lingering traces of Meg's reiatsu were strongest, mangled black fabric held carefully in his hands.
He would just have to trust in Ryuken's ability to strengthen his son for now. What he was about to attempt would take all of his considerable concentration and skill.
While he had managed to map out some of the strange energy the operatives controlled, it was still just erratic enough to make getting a simple fix on the location nearly impossible.
He was able to do it, however.
Urahara already knew it would be impossible to break through the strange, scrambling barrier the humans had erected for a full out rescue. Not only would it be a fools' errand to break into that particular snake's nest in the first place, but he had no idea of the effects the transfer would have on anyone who went through it.
Much as he hated to admit it, the exile wasn't entirely sure of how well what he was about to attempt would work, for that matter. Simple location was one thing, but when it came to opening a line of communication, he still wasn't completely sure of how effective this particular bit of kidou would be.
There was only one way to find out.
Where her sleeping mat had once been was now a frame of four feet tall by four feet wide, carved out of obsidian and shined to a bright sheen. Carefully, he laid the ruined jumpsuit before the polished stone structure as if he were making an offering to some strange, faceless god.
He then lifted his hands, palms facing the stone, and cleared his mind of everything but the focus of reishi.
A bright white glow lit upon his long fingers and palms as he intoned, "Raven fly free – lost within night's darkness. Blade strike sure – slice clean through embattled prey."
Tendrils of light spiraled into the emptiness of the frame from the tips of his fingers.
"Ether thin and souls bind. Open eyes, and reveal that which is unseen."
A single brilliant strobe blinded the shopkeeper for a second, but he did not allow his concentration to waver, or the flow of reiatsu to cease.
When the light faded, he was presented with a view of what appeared to be a room of complete white – from floor to ceiling. There was only a hospital bed bolted to the center of the floor. The sole occupant lay prone upon the hard, thin mattress.
The crisp white sheet covered her body from the gentle curve of her hips down past her feet, terminating in a disturbingly soft fall off the edge of the bed. Shapely legs were outlined limply within the neat drape of sterile fabric. Smooth skin was like marble in the harsh light, and the graceful dip of her naked lower back gave way to snuggly wrapped bandages spanning from mid-back to shoulders.
There was little color in the room.
Outside of pervasive white, there was only the shadow of her hair, now in a fierce buzz-cut – he couldn't even see the red evident when she was with them –that of her lashes feathered against her cheeks and her brows knit in a pained grimace. The lack of color made the crimson which still seeped through the bindings against her back stand out all the more boldly.
His heart stalled.
They had taken her wings.
"Oh, Meg," he breathed.
At his soft utterance, black eyes snapped open – even the green of her pupils was washed out.
Once that agonized, exhausted gaze finally focused on him and confusion cleared, her pale lips moved. Though no sound issued forth, he read his name there.
He held a finger to his own lips in an unspoken request for her silence. "Will you be healed in three months' time?" He whispered, trusting she could hear and understand him.
Quietly, she nodded.
"Good," he murmured, leaning towards the small portal slightly. "Will you be able to find a way out by then?"
The image flickered around the ages as the exhausted young woman thought for a few moments. Finally, she again nodded subtly.
Shadowed eyes glittered as he dipped his head in a mirror of the gesture. "Watch for a sign from me at that time. This is not the end."
The muscles in her throat worked as she swallowed. After a brief battle with her failing strength, she finally mouthed a silent "ok".
The last thing he saw of her before the connection gave in to the scrambling energies of the base was a solitary teardrop tracking its way across the bridge of her nose, countered by a desperate resolve hardening like steel cooling from the forge within the inken depths of her eyes.
He found himself staring through the emptiness of the frame at the sand on the other side.
Breifly, his shoulders slumped and his head bowed. Drawing a breath, he carefully folded the battered black fabric between him and the now dormant stone portal, pulled himself to his feet, then turned to exit the desert, holding the bundle which had once graced the figure of the wayward woman under his right arm.
There was still much to do.
So, here it is - the final installment to Hollow Hunters. *brushes a tear away* My first completed fic in years. Thanks everyone who's read and commented. Special thanks to Haddrell for her faithful feedback. It's extremely appreciated!
The sequal to this story is The Arrow's Blade, which can be found on my profile, if anyone is interested in continuing to follow the events.
Also, I'm still working on the Ichigo vs Renji and Urahara/Ukitake vs Szayel fights. This chapter and the first of the next story just took over my attention is all.