(Day 2)

Night had fallen in Soul Society, dismissing many of the working souls of their duties. After a long day, their energies had dwindled and needed replenishing. Some would return to their homes or sleeping quarters, following the siren's call of their comfortable beds. Others preferred to take a small detour, to unwind in the company of friends with a bottle at their lips.

For a select few, the day began when the moon was rising. They were the workers of the night shift. It was not as active as the day shift but it was no less important. Some may argue it was the more vital shift, though they were few in numbers.

Nevertheless, without the Soul Reapers that worked the long hours of the night, their colleagues of the day wouldn't be able to work as effectively. The night crew cleaned the barracks and washed the laundry. They patrolled the empty streets and made sure everything was in place for the next day.

They were the grease that made the whole operation run smoothly.

Well, that is how Furuya Miyoko preferred to look at it. This week, the task of maintaining the peace and hygiene of the Fourth during the darkest hours had befallen on her and a few others. Honestly, Miyoko didn't mind working the night shift. It was nice to have a peaceful week every once in a while. Besides, a clean environment aided in a swift recovery. So, even when she wasn't tending to patients, she was helping them heal.

Humming the tune of her favourite hymn, Miyoko was sweeping the floors of the Western Wing. With each brush, she dislodged the sand and dust that had snuck between the grooves of the wood, moving it towards the pile at the end of the hallway.

When she passed the door leading to the holding cells, Miyoko paused. A bit confused, she looked around, finding no one but herself in the corridor. I could have sworn I heard something.

A frown crossed her features as she heard it again. Turning towards the reinforced door, Miyoko cocked her head. Do we have someone down there? She stepped closer, placing an ear against the metal divider to listen.

Miyoko immediately regretted her decision. Whisps of spiritual pressure seeped from under the door, licking at her feet. The sheer darkness contained within send a shiver up her spine, spreading fear throughout her entire body. Miyoko quickly stepped back. Her grip on the broom tightened, turning her knuckles white. What in name of the Soul King do we keep down there?!

The sound reached her ears again and Miyoko yelped in fright. Without a second thought, she abandoned the hallway. There were no patients in that corridor anyway.

Little did Miyoko know, she was only half right. While there was no patient in this hall, there was a Zanpakutō of a patient residing here. And they were not in great condition.

Getsu prowled behind the bars of his cell, growling and snarling up a storm. It had been hours since he had hollowfied but he wasn't able to calm down. How could he, when his king was somewhere out there; weak and without his loyal horse and knight? Getsu wouldn't rest until he made sure his king was safe and well.

Some may find this loyalty admiring. One person, however, was beginning to find it quite annoying.

Hidden in the far back of the cell, wearing the shadows like a cloak, was the Quincy half of Zangetsu. Tensa was sitting cross-legged on the ground, palm pressing into his cheek to keep his head up. Blue eyes followed the movement of his other half, fingers drumming on his knee impatiently.

When Getsu hit the bars of the cell with his tail for the fifty-sixth time-and yes, he had counted-the spirit's thinning patience snapped.

'Could you please stop pacing!'

Golden irises locked with blue, a low rumble emitting from behind the mask as the tail smacked the pillars again. (I want out!)

'And how, exactly, is pacing going to help accomplish that?' Tensa asked. 'Because all you are achieving now, is creating a trench in the floor and driving me mad'.

The hollowfied Zanpakutō looked down at the ground, finding his claws and talons had damaged the floor. After a beat, Getsu started to attack the ground with Balas.

Tensa sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. I should have chosen my words more carefully.

A frustrated snarl had him look back up. Getsu was tearing up more of the floorboards, revealing the Seki Seki slabs underneath. I hope they will not charge Ichigo for the damages. Not that the Shiba Clan couldn't afford it but Ichigo would want to pay it from his own pocket.

While Getsu was keeping himself occupied, Tensa decided to throw out his senses again. The signature in front of the door above was gone, which was promising. A quick scoop of the rest of the barracks had Tensa internally sigh in relief. Finally.

Rising to his feet, Tensa dusted himself off. His hands travelled from his knees to his shoulders, ending at the rim of his hood. With a tug, the hood came up, covering his head and obscuring his face with shadows. Satisfied, the spirit walked around his raging counterpart and went straight for the door.

A click sounded and Getsu paused his unwanted redecoration of the cell. With the shortest leap of sonído to have ever been taken, he dove at the door, shaking it again. He let out a confused chirp when it didn't open.

Tensa shook his head, 'No, you have to stay here'.

The Hollow growled in response, shaking the door again. (Let me out!)

'Getsu, please'. Tensa reached out, covering one claw with his hand. Discreetly, he manipulated a bit of the raging spiritual energy.

The rumbling sound died out. Getsu stopped shaking the bars and merely stared at his other half. Instinct clouded eyes gained a glimmer of intelligence, the Zanpakutō inside the Hollow finally able to gain a foothold.

Getsu jerked his head towards the stairs, giving a short and soft hum in answer. (Go.)

A rare smile slipped on Tensa's face. He gave his counterpart's claw a firm squeeze in appreciation before turning around and leaving. By the time he reached the door, Tensa could feel Getsu's spiritual pressure start to get unruly once more.

It is a necessary evil. Clinging to that, Tensa opened up the door and slipped into the hallway. Once the door had closed silently behind him, the spirit got moving.

Manipulating the ambient spirit particles to cushion his feet, the Quincy Zanpakutō navigated through the unfamiliar building without flaw or sound. To be on the safe side, Tensa stuck to the walls and shadows whenever he was able to, weaving past the occasional healer without trouble.

Before he had even realised it, his body came to a halt in front of a door. Out of habit, Tensa focused on what dwelled on the other side. Searching for a very specific spiritual signature. Nothing. As far as his senses were concerned, the room was empty. But Tensa knew better.

Without knocking, the Quincy Zanpakutō slipped inside. The room was warmly lit, making it easy on the eyes while still illuminating enough to see everything with relative ease. Tensa strode towards the single bed, finding his wielder occupying it.

Releasing a breath of relief at finding Ichigo in-a relatively-good condition, Tensa leaned on the bed railing. It was strange to see Ichigo's face so relaxed, his whole body void of tension.

How is it you always find yourself in these strange conditions? He moved some stray hairs away from the boy's face, taking the opportunity to feel his forehead. It was hot and wet, not that the spirit had expected anything less. Tensa let his fingers go through orange tresses, his lips twitching in amusement when he found the grey hairs hadn't disappeared.

A spiritual pressure brushed his own and Tensa sighed, it appeared his time alone was already over. He retracted his hand and turned, just in time to see the door open.

A pile of neatly folded linen is what entered the room first, immediately followed by the Soul Reaper who carried them. Hanatarō closed the door with his foot and peered past his cargo to see where he was going.

His eyes widened in fright and the lieutenant barely suppressed a shout of surprise when he found another person in the room. The linen fell to the floor as the arms that held them shot up, posed to cast a kidō.

Tensa carefully raised his own arms in surrender, showing the healer he didn't mean harm. It made Hanatarō pause, taking a better look. He lowered his arms and inched a bit closer. Hesitantly, he tried his senses, only to recognise the one before him instantly.

'T-Tensa-san! Oh, you scared me'.

The spirit lowered his arms as well, 'My apologies, that had not been my intention'.

Hanatarō let out a sigh of relief, 'As long as Sh-Shiba-san doesn't wake, it is fine'.

'I believe it will be a while before he will wake to anything', Tensa said.

'I'm not surp-p-prised'. Hanatarō shook his head, picking up the linen he had dropped. 'He n-needs to recover from the t-trauma his b-body went through first'.

'How long do you expect it to take?' Tensa asked.

'I can't say'. The healer put the stack on the table. 'I have n-never seen anyt-t-thing like this before so it is diffic-c-cult to make an estimation. Truthfully, we aren't even sure if this is t-temporary'.

'It is not permanent', Tensa assured. 'We have met someone in the past who was in a similar condition'.

'Really?'

Tensa nodded. He didn't add that Nelliel was a former espada, nor that she had to wear a bracelet to maintain her form. Hopefully, Ichigo will not have the same fate.

'That's good to hear', Hanatarō said. 'Captain Kotetsu s-suspected that to be the case but it is n-nice to hear confirm-m-mation'. The healer walked to the bed, standing opposite of the spirit. His hands glowed green and hovered above Ichigo's small form. A slight frown appeared on Hanatarō's face.

'Something the matter?'

'Not nec-c-cessarily'. Hanatarō retracted his hands. 'I'm used to Sh-Shiba-san making q-quick recoveries. However, t-there is barely a difference in his energy level in t-twelve hours'.

'He is still recovering from the trauma of having his body change so drastically', Tensa reminded. 'His system will resume its usual rhythm in due time, I am sure'.

Hanatarō nodded, 'Yeah, you're p-p-probably right'.

They stayed silent for a while. Hanatarō resumed his task of filling the cabinets with clean linen. Tensa mostly tuned him out, entertaining himself by watching his wielder. He had managed to snuck his hand under the covers to retrieve a hand. It amazed Tensa how small it was compared to his own, fitting perfectly in his palm.

He knew Ichigo hadn't always been the teenage boy he had been when they'd first met. Family photos, memories and dreams had reminded him of that fact often enough. Yet, to actually see his wielder be, physically, three years old, was surreal.

Rubbing the back of the small hand, Tensa used the contact to transfer a bit of his own energy back to Ichigo.

'Ah, T-Tensa-san!'

The spirit didn't pause as he looked up.

Hanatarō opened his mouth but stopped, thinking it over. 'N-nothing', he said eventually.

Tensa smiled knowingly, 'I think I will be fine. Thank you for your concern'.

The lieutenant laughed awkwardly, eyes shifting to the floor. An idea struck and Hanatarō looked at the spirit, 'Could you d-donate some spiritual energy?'

'For what purpose?'

'For Sh-Shiba-san'. Hanatarō pointed at the half empty bag on the IV stand. 'We are almost t-through the bags he has d-donated. If he stays unconscious much longer or if something happens, we won't have enough for him'.

'I see'. Tensa nodded, 'When?'

'Right n-now is an option'.

'That is fine with me'.

Hanatarō opened up a drawer and retrieved some equipment. Tensa continued his transfer until the lieutenant was wholly set.

'Could you b-bare an arm for me, p-please?'

Oh... Tensa eyed his sleeves. No way in Hell would he be able to roll them up. He would have to take off his coat.

'I p-promise I won't look', Hanatarō said. 'I-I know you're shy'.

I wish that were the reason I wear my hood, Tensa thought. 'Can you lock the door?'

'Uhm... I shouldn't', Hanatarō said hesitantly. 'But I s-suppose it will only be for a m-moment'.

The lieutenant quickly locked the door and obscured the window with the blinders. With the room sealed, Hanatarō returned to his seat, keeping his head turned away. Tensa sighed and took off his coat. After rolling up the sleeve of his dress shirt, he offered his bare arm to the healer. Hanatarō took it and kept his head down, eyes focused on preparing the spirit's arm.

'Are you afraid of n-needles, T-Tensa-san?' Hanatarō asked as he showed said instrument.

'No'.

The needle slipped through skin with ease. Blue energy filled the tube, gathering in a bag.

'Getsu-san is, isn't he?'

'He has a slight aversion to them, yes', Tensa downplayed.

Hanatarō chuckled in amusement, 'P-Pardon me, but that is q-quite the underst-t-tatement, isn't it?'

'I refuse to say more on the subject'.

The lieutenant hummed, not pressing further. Instead, he shifted focus. 'How is Getsu-san d-doing?'

Tensa closed his eyes, feeling the despair of his counterpart as if it were his own. 'Not well'.

'Aego-san said he had h-hollowfied'.

'He has'. Tensa opened his eyes, 'Still is'.

The lieutenant removed the needle. 'I p-passed the door on my way b-back', he said. 'Getsu-san is hurting'.

Tensa breathed out a chuckle, 'I am surprised you noticed. Most freeze up and flee once it brushes their senses'.

Hanatarō scratched his cheek. 'I am used to Sh-Shiba-san's spiritual p-pressure. Getsu-san's isn't much d-different'.

Arm tended to, Tensa quickly put his coat and hood back in order. 'I suppose that would make it easier', he mumbled.

'Is t-t-there something I can do for him?' Hanatarō asked.

'Unfortunately, the only one who can is not in any position to do anything', Tensa said, eying his wielder. Hanatarō followed the gaze and smiled sadly.

'I was afraid that m-might be the case'. The lieutenant then turned towards the door. 'I will be back every t-ten minutes. Do I n-need to get something for you?'

'No, thank you for the offer'.

'Okay', Hanatarō said, not completely convinced the spirit didn't require anything. 'If you change your m-mind, I will be b-back soon', he said before leaving.

Tensa hummed, waiting until the door closed before casting a kidō. One Hachi had constructed for them on request. Every surface of the room faintly glimmered with power, sealing it completely. Letting out a deep sigh, Tensa allowed his spiritual pressure to breathe, letting it roam around him freely. The tension that had been creeping into his muscles flowed out with it.

'The hoops we have to jump through', he murmured as he pulled his hood down. 'Just to stay at your side'. Ichigo showed no signs of hearing or sensing him, which did not surprise the spirit. He took the small hand in his own once more, amusing himself by playing with the tiny digits. 'But we would do anything, for there is no place we would rather be'.

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TO BE CONTINUED

BLEACH – Tite Kubo