A/N: Sorry so sorry! ;; Been so busy lately that I've only had small in between chances to work on this here and there. Nonetheless, somehow I went from about four pages to thirty-five! Ouch! XD I had such a hard time with this chapter, probably because I hate writing fight scenes. I suck at them, I won't lie. Lol. Either way, I tried my hardest so any complaints or criticisms, be gentle my duckies (and honest of course)! :3
Song Inspirations for this chapter:
Lhuna (Coldplay ft. Kylie Minogue)
Pyramid (Charize ft. Iyaz)
Take It All Away (Red)
Feel You (Crumbland)
Gettin' Over You (David Guetta ft. a bunch of people XD)
Find Your Love (Drake vs. Coldplay)
Washing Machine (Michelle Branch)
Holy cow, so much oddball music o_O Lol.
Enjoy and review guys :)
Mon Cœur S'ouvre à Ta Voix
(My heart opens itself to your voice)
When My Heart Is Split Like Rio I
Precious seconds, ticking and making him hit the ground running in desperate search for violet eyes and black hair, for moon-kissed skin and the face of a woman who knew nothing of disgrace.
Rukia, Rukia, Rukia.
Suddenly her name wasn't so hard to call out, wasn't as harsh as he thought it sounded prior to this moment, wasn't as sturdy and proud as before.
Running to the balcony, teal eyes greedily took in faces, hair, eyes, anything that could possibly resemble the small woman in the masses moving to some insane beat and constantly changing lights that only served to create shadows and further confusion. Whether it was his mind or the lights before him that sent his head awhirl he didn't know, slamming down an angry fist onto the railing and ignoring the stinging of his hand.
A search for her reiatsu would be useless here with her in a gigai, which could only lead him to two conclusions:
Either she saw no need to revert to shinigami form or she was already dead.
"Ashido I have to tell-"
"You here with a date?"
A moment of silence in which she frowned, eyes taking in his confident form and the way he easily led her up a discrete staircase she could barely recognize had it not been for the fire extinguisher with graffiti they had passed on the way up.
It was the only exit to the roof, if she recalled correctly, and a bad one at that with its terribly narrow corridor and steps littered with trash, with bottles of who knows what and the butts of one too many cigarettes that had seen better days and possibly the stories of more than one patron.
Walking like this in the shadows with wide eyes trying to make out the depth of the sudden on and off flickers of the naked bulb a few feet above their heads, it reminded her of a time when she had been staring at his broad back with the shimmer of a sky-less forest sun flickering through white trees—when the bony mask of a hollow protruded from a fur cape and stared at her blankly from large gaping eye sockets as she sidestepped an empty glass bottle.
"Well, no, but-"
"Then I'm sure you can grant me a moment, before we get interrupted."
She didn't know how to respond to that. Her heart was torn between duty and friendship as they finally reached the top, Ashido opening the door and allowing her a moment of hesitation. Much like a prisoner to condemnation her head lowered, ink black bangs falling over wary eyes as she wrapped pale arms around herself and stepped outside finally to the welcoming night air.
It was there that she chose to set her tiny clutch purse down against the brick, hoping it wouldn't get dirty.
The way his hand ghosted on her back sent a strange feeling down her spine and reminded her once again where and what she was doing—that she was a shinigami, that Hitsugaya-taichou was downstairs and probably beyond furious, and that once again she was laying her neck on the line for a friend (which, if she must be thoroughly and brutally honest with herself, was nothing completely new in her book of offenses).
If there was any attempt for Rukia to be stout and cold towards her companion, the fire immediately died upon letting her gaze rise to his own and noting still the smoldering flame that seemed impossible to quench in blue-grey irises, the light of the moon bathing them and making his eyes pools of liquid silver that shone brilliantly.
She couldn't—looking away took all her willpower to do, even now as she cleared her throat and squared tiny shoulders stubbornly.
"You have no idea how sincerely happy I am that you're back." A slight shrug, a sigh, and then without looking at him she turned towards the door once more and put a single hand on the frame noting silently how his still stubbornly held the doorknob. "But I don't have time right now. I'll talk all you want later but I'm here on a mission. I'm. . .I'm really sorry."
The pulse of the music vibrated under their feet as she stood there, eyes locked with his as her hand was gently pulled away from the door by strong fingers and he closed it with a light click. Rukia would be lying if she said she didn't feel anything in that moment in his grasp, didn't get a hitch in her breath or felt her heart flutter playfully like the wings of a newborn butterfly.
Bu then Ashido let her go and turned from her silently, leaving a reeling young woman standing there as he walked calmly out to the edge of the building with a light echo of expensive shoes, hands tucked into his pockets. The night was warm and cloudless, the moon a proud shining crescent overhead and his figure illuminated in a lonely silhouette that made her feel all the more guilty for the way she was treating him.
A slight scuffle of a sandal and thin fingers found themselves scraping against the rough surface of the doorway for leverage. Rukia looked back up to her companion for a moment before pushing off of the small structure with a sigh.
When she had come to lean on it she didn't know.
"I've been searching for you for a while and it's still hard for me to believe this sky is real." Sharp silver orbs looked out to the horizon silently, features not quite as harsh as she remembered them to be. A cool breeze flitted through the loose strands of his maroon hair and the urge of her twitching fingers to run through them was strong. Beneath the ripples of his shirt Rukia could see the toned silhouette he had hidden beneath robes and a fur cape—beneath a mask of indifference and somber isolation the last time she met him.
Smiling would suit him better, the petite shinigami mused.
"You brought back a little hope for me. . . I wanted to see you again to thank you." Turning to her, Ashido noted with soft amusement how her cheeks colored as she cleared her throat, hands coming to cross over her chest as she shrugged and allowed small fingers to curl into a light fist at her neck.
"You deserved the chance to go home again. I'm just sorry I couldn't do a better-"
He kissed her.
Whether she was more in shock at his ability to swiftly turn and grab her or the fact he was daring to. . .
To. . .
Her eyes fluttered slowly closed for a moment, unsure how to react as his hands drifted to the small of her back and pulled her closer to every curve of his body, to the feeling of abs toned through the sheer will to survive and a heartbeat as calming to her fingertips as the patter of rain on a gray afternoon.
His lips were soft against her own and she couldn't breathe, couldn't say she had any idea what to do because she hadn't kissed anybody in nearly a hundred years! To her relief he finally pulled away from her, foreheads touching intimately as her wide orbs fell on his half lidded gaze and she couldn't speak, couldn't find words that could make it past the lump in her throat as pink glossed lips fought for some form of intelligent speech.
"Thank you, Rukia."
Time stopped then, and suddenly the look in his eyes seemed reverent in a way that sent a thrill through her.
There, eye to eye her breath hitched and suddenly warmth bloomed from somewhere in her belly, hands coming up to cradle her torso as she hesitatingly drew her gaze away from his. Looking down in casual curiosity, in the back of her mind she wondered what this feeling was, why the world was unexpectedly spinning, and why she couldn't breathe (he wasn't that good of a kisser!), hunching slightly now from the deep-rooted pain in her abdomen while Ashido simply stood there, a gentle smile on his features and a single hand pulling away from her body.
Her fingers felt wet as they curled.
. . . what. . . ?
"Go to sleep, little shinigami."
Violet eyes went up to his, Rukia's head tilting slightly in question as she fell to her knees and noted idly how his hand had a matching shade of red marring his skin.
Blood. . . .
Sleep, that was what she wanted, what her body screamed for even as the pain began to fight the shock that numbed her senses. There was hurting and the inability to speak, a hitched choking sound overtaking everything from Rukia's lips even as her mind slowly made the connection—a stab, a stab, that was what he'd done.
Ashido wanted to kill her.
Sleep, what she fought as she watched the shoes before her change to bare feet, to tiny delicate things that were followed by the rapid weaving much like the tangled webs of a spider into the simple folds of a plain kimono hem and to the kneeling woman before her.
"Hi-. . . .sa. . . "
"You WHAT?" Wincing, Toushiro pulled the phone away from his ear.
"He's around here somewhere and he's got Rukia. Pull in as soon as you can!" He yelled over the music.
"I can't believe-" Before Ichigo could go on another panic-fueled rant, the captain hung up on him and continued his search.
There were easily well over five hundred people in the area, of which he had to find just two. Slowly his mind began to run through possible scenarios (most bad), bringing him to the realization that he had to drop the gigai if he was going to get anywhere with this search without humans getting in the way.
The bathrooms were crowded and it took him forever to get past all the drunks and party goers he had to unceremoniously shove out of the way to get to a stall where he could revert into shinigami without disturbance.
After many protests from those in line and even a fight he nearly started, the captain finally got to the bathroom and managed to slam the door in a human man's face before pulling out the pill in his pocket.
Quickly instructing the substitute soul to wait for Ichigo downstairs, Toushiro finally headed out to the third floor again, searching the bar area once more to make sure he hadn't missed them before.
Being in a gigai was suffocating, he realized as he kept scanning the area. It was literally tailored to be human, so a shinigami's movements and actions were limited to the specifics of the temporary body. There were very few that actually were kept to house shinigami souls at regular level—of which Urahara kept three.
And of course, none of them at a price a regular (hell, even captain) shinigami could afford.
Either way, the sudden change back to his regular levels left him reeling a bit before he realized Hyourinmaru was stirring uneasily.
I feel her.
Stopping in his tracks, Hitsugaya turned his full attention to the voice of his zanpaktou. How the hell could he feel the reiatsu of a woman in a gigai, especially when hers had been purposefully muted beyond even "spiritually low" level of a regular human?
I wasn't searching for her.
In his mind's eye he could see the back of a woman dressed in a white kimono, hair like liquid silver flowing in the wind and a light fog surrounding her figure. Before he could decipher more details, the image was gone.
Sode no Shirayuki is above us.
Sharp eyes rose to note the roof of the building with a scowl.
He just hoped he wasn't too late.
There was a song she didn't know why she knew.
A hummed lullaby, light in the night sky as the woman held Rukia's head in her lap and played with the strands of hair that had long ago fallen out of her ponytail, the flower stained crimson by her companion's dark fingers.
Tears.
At first one, then followed by another and then a few as a slight, painful gasp was ripped from a mouth that was almost completely paralyzed by the toxin now fully in her bloodstream. The most she could do was twitch her fingers a little maybe and force herself to breathe—bare essentials even as she tried to weakly clench her jaw so that the blood now trickling from the corners of her lip wouldn't come anymore.
She wasn't stupid, she knew she didn't have long to live.
A fool, Rukia Kuchiki.
She mentally chided herself.
You're such a fool. . .
"You remember that song, don't you?"
Her eyes couldn't move, could barely blink even after fully putting her effort into it. Even with the gikongan pills in the purse she had left by the doorway, Rukia was well aware this poison was not something meant for the human body—it was targeting her soul self and surely it would kill her before she could come up with something to do—especially since the gigai only seemed to have sped up the process.
"It was your favorite lullaby." A twist of a little finger around ink black locks and then the feeling of cold knuckles running lightly on her jawline. "Don't pretend you don't remember, the memory is buried in your heart, sweetie. Why do you think I could show up so fully for you, my dear little sis-?"
The door slammed open a few yards behind them and Rukia could do little but stare out at the expanse in front of them, at the ledge that was within arm's reach and wondering if there was anything she could do for the poor human fools about to step into a slaughter fest.
"R-Rukia?"
She knew this voice—didn't know from where or when but it made what was left of her heart plummet.
Run! She wanted to yell at him, please just go!
Her doppelganger turned then, there, sitting with the gigai's head in her lap and looked at the white haired youth with a gentle smile.
"No, this wasn't Rukia. The eyes were softer, face a bit rounder, the strand coming down the middle of her face and splitting at her nose into two. The aura, the breath of reiatsu he got from her was weak but normal—nothing anything over a regular human would've had, and certainly none of the vibrant flame that was Rukia's.
This wasn't Rukia, so where. . .?
"Hi. . . sa. . . na. . ." Teal orbs widened then in realization and immediately Hyourinmaru was raised.
There was a puddle of blood around them and on the kimono—the blood of the body in the woman's arms.
Rukia's blood.
"Let her go." He snarled.
The rise of his reiatsu didn't faze the woman at all.
"You can't kill me." She turned momentarily back to the shinigami beside her and laid the woman down gently to the rough surface of the cement roof, fondly removing a strand of hair from Rukia's frozen, emotionless features and noting how the pupils were dilated as she concentrated desperately on the figure before her.
With a light smile she brushed away another tear.
Violet orbs went out of focus for barely a second before coming back and realizing it wasn't Hisana standing over her anymore, wasn't the one ghosting a touch over her cheek and she wished she could say more, could warn the person behind them but finding that no matter how desperate the attempt, she could do no more than lay there uselessly.
"Can you, Shiro-chan?" The voice was different then, higher pitched and more girlish sounding as Momo Hinamori turned slowly to face him with a playful smile.
It was sick.
The way her hair fell down loosely around demure shoulders, the grin and little giggle that made it to his ears and reminded him of younger days when Aizen hadn't even existed in their lives and she was nothing but a little girl that ran around Junrinan with his grandmother on errands, the innocent child he had tried to protect from reality.
"You twisted bastard." It was low, in pain even as the wound reopened in his heart and teal orbs narrowed dangerously into slits that glowed. Trembling hands made it hard to keep Hyourinmaru steady, hard to keep a level head even with Rukia nearly dead behind their target.
It made sense now, it all made sense.
"I came for Rukia." Momo, calm nonplussed Momo, picked at her nails calmly before clasping her hands behind her back and rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. "I want to break Ashido from the inside out before he dies, and Rukia is the only way how."
A tilt of her head and then, "But breaking a captain of that place is always a plus too."
He barely had time to dodge the first strike of a claw. Still, his countering swipe was swift as he sidestepped a well aimed kick, glancing behind him to the woman lying in a steadily growing pool of blood.
"DON'T DIE ON ME, RUKIA!"
"Don't turn away Shiro-chan, you might miss something!"
And suddenly Momo was there grabbing his arm with an iron grip, nails extending into long talon-like claws that punctured through his shinigami robes and bit scathingly into tan skin. Gritting his teeth to stop the impending hiss, Toushiro didn't hesitate to rip his arm out of the woman's grasp and retaliate with a sharp jab from Hyourinmaru to gain some distance between them.
When he heard her cry of pain he couldn't help but hesitate and it tore at his heart to see her sitting on the ground, nursing a bleeding leg. Brown eyes were large, the corners cradling drops of unshed tears as she looked up at him with a pout.
"Shiro-chan, why did you hurt me?"
Even as he closed his eyes and tried to swallow with a suddenly bone-dry mouth, Toushiro tried to face her once again but found with quickly drowning bravery that he could do nothing but stand there, averting his gaze and trembling with frustration. He flexed his wounded arm slowly in the sudden silence, breathing more heavily from the sheer emotion than any exertion she had forced out of him.
She's not real. She's not real, she's NOT REAL!
"Look at me Shiro-chan! Don't just leave me here!"
The whimpering noises she made were a brutal reminder of the past, of the shadow in his heart and the way he used to yell at her to get up and stop being such a baby—something that he desperately wanted to do, regardless of if his voice revealed the pain of the action or not. Chapped lips closed before they could utter a sound, the familiar reproach swallowed and sinking his heart further.
But then his gaze fell on his partner. Her hair was splayed around her, ink fallen from a bottle knocked by a careless hand, the morbid halo of blood steadily growing around her figure and the blouse stained beyond any mend with the winking of jewelry on her left ankle catching the light of the moon like a heavenly shackle.
Even moments before her death she was graceful.
His good hand tightened around Hyourinmaru.
I'm sorry you got pulled into this, Rukia.
He had to stop wasting time.
I'm going to get you out of here, I swear it.
"You feel it yet, Shiro-chan?"
He wanted to wipe away the smile from her face, from the features that looked at him so happily. The captain was more than aware of the feeling weaving up his arm, of the pain that was beginning to set flame to his limb, noted outwardly only by the way he flinched slightly and the sudden clench of a strong jaw.
Just hold on a little more for me please, Rukia.
It was poison.
"I don't like swords, they're a little too caveman for me." The white haired youth offered nothing but a fluid fall into a stance with Hyourinmaru glinting in the moonlight, mirroring the effect of the anklet on his partner's leg.
"You like it? I gave our little princess over there a bit of a higher dose than you, so her pain is probably magnified twenty times more than yours." Looking at her deformed hands, Momo's doppelganger licked at the end of her index finger, completely paying no heed to the reiatsu rippling around Toushiro or the resulting waves sending her own robes swaying in the sudden currents of power.
"You have no idea. . . " Brown eyes fell then lovingly to the talons and she smiled as if to a child. ". . .how wonderful poison tastes when laced with blood."
This wasn't Momo.
It wasn't anything other than a monster taking advantage of him, of Rukia, of everyone who had something to regret in the past. Certainly his reasoning wasn't because his life could be on the line, or even Rukia's. More so than that he thought he owed it to the both of them as shinigami to protect what pride he could salvage from such foolish behavior on his part and his inability to have saved the young woman from such a painful path.
He had failed to protect her, to keep the promise he had made so arrogantly in front of Ishida and Matsumoto.
"We'll catch him before he lays a single finger on you, Kuchiki."
If he could just stay focused on that-the upturning of shy lips, small hands, the echoing voice that called his name in greeting—then Toushiro could say he had a purpose that would drive Momo away from the nightmare that was that moment.
Rukia . . .
Enough, enough of this foolishness.
Hyourinmaru's defiant roar echoed in his soul down to his very bones.
"I said it once, and I'll say it again." The captain of the tenth division, the cold-hearted prodigy of Sereitei raised his sword then, grunting as he forced his poisoned arm to clench around the hilt for more stability in the grip trembling with barely suppressed fury. "You're one sick bastard."
And he charged forward.
There were voices.
First one, then two, then countless different little melodies of screams, yells, shouts, whispers even, maybe even one or two calling to her directly there in the darkness of her crumbling inner world as she lay with her head on her zanpaktou's lap.
The sound of Sode no Shirayuki shifting, sitting calmly even with full knowledge of what had happened and offering a cool touch to her cheek, eyes glowing in the darkness like two gems of pure crystal blue. There was reassurance there, sadness, and even a bit of an apology that things had ended the way they had as the petite shinigami heard more than saw a cliff in the distance collapse on itself and begin to fade away into a million different shards of ice petals in the wind.
Rukia smiled.
"I'm not afraid to die."
Her zanpaktou smiled fondly then and in a motherly gesture cupped her master's face in her pale hands, leaning down to plant a kiss on the young woman's forehead.
"Yes, Rukia-sama," she called in a bell-like whisper, "I know."
". . . NO!. . . NO!. . . CAN'T. . . . ."
They were far away now, the voices from before.
". . . planted . . . hated to. . . "
Echoes maybe of the past, possible interactions of the future that would've been useful, Rukia didn't know and honestly failed to care for as blood seeped through her shinigami robes (because even in her mind death was nothing pretty and sane) and she allowed the ice to spread from her now numb fingers.
"Does it hurt you at all?" Violet eyes strayed with worry to the woman cradling her and she noted with relief that Sode no Shirayuki's kimono was pristine and pure as snow, just as it had always been.
The zanpaktou tilted her head slightly as a small melancholic smile tugged her lips upward.
"My death will be painless, Rukia-sama. Since I was not directly hurt in battle I won't feel anything. . . I'll just fade away." A thick swallow and then the slight hum of approval was her reply.
"I see."
What little breaths she took were beginning to get more and more hitched, choking on her own blood as she lay there questioning when the depressingly familiar taste of the coppery liquid would go away.
There was no pain.
If she tried hard enough, she could make out a flash of orange, maybe even the ghosting of delicate fingers over her arms, or the sound of a voice that would've made her wince had it been any closer to her ears. Simultaneously there was a breeze and silence, the feeling of concrete beneath her and then the soft of the spirit's robes, the rough brush of a tear on her features that remained oddly stainless. It confused her and made Sode no Shirayuki fade in and out of her field of vision, sending a pang of fear through her.
She didn't want to die alone.
Her brow furrowed, she could feel it, even as she lay there nearly completely numb and searching for the spirit's touch of familiar cold.
"I'm sorry." She told the frost that suddenly enveloped her, "I'm sorry I couldn't be with you just a little longer."
Long, silver hair flowed in a sudden whirlwind of shattered crystals, butterflies of destruction that twinkled ethereally in the light of a crescent moon and made Sode no Shirayuki glow as she raised a hand to her master's eyes.
"Sleep." She commanded then, lowering a soft pale hand over Rukia's wide orbs and feeling the brush of long black lashes as the shinigami complied. "Sleep, Rukia-sama."
"Okay."
The last thing Rukia saw was her zanpaktou's smile.
And she wouldn't have it any other way.
He didn't remember much after he nearly dealt the fatal blow.
There was her scream of frustration at suddenly being outnumbered, Ichigo's frantic yelling of Rukia's name as the young woman was scooped roughly into his arms, of him desperately yelling at the girl not to die on him, not to die because she still owed him money for the last chappy thing he bought her, and that he might just forgive her if she said she would be ok.
Of course there was no response but his own frantic cries as he took the stone he used on his own body and forcefully removed her battered spirit from the gigai.
Maybe the captain had called out something, screamed out Momo's name and run to her, he didn't really know. Maybe he had indeed raised his sword (certainly the moon shining on Hyourinmaru wasn't just a dream) and she had dodged, ever smiling, her loose bangs flowing in the wind and brown eyes soft, peaceful even as she raised her arms and allowed gravity to do the work for her when the small body of Momo Hinamori tilted over the ledge. Talons spread wide, it might've crossed his mind that it was an open invitation for him to stab her while she allowed herself to fall and coming to the agonizing conclusion that in the end he hesitated—that Hyourinmaru roared with fury at his sudden cowardice as he was lowered to Toushiro's side.
There was the sound of shredding, of what felt like a tear in his soul as below the gaping eye of Hueco Mundo opened leisurely to stare up at him with dark judgement, the young woman's form falling gracefully and willingly into it. Uryuu tried to give chase (when he had appeared Toushiro didn't know), bumping past him roughly and firing arrows ahead only to watch them land below when he jerked to a stop at the high ledge.
A moment of hesitation in the shock of sudden silence and the deep of Ishida's questioning gaze fell to him, a flash of anger making them deep pools of wavering sapphire as he pushed up his glasses and scowled, for a moment regarding him with complete disapproval before turning instead to Ichigo and swiftly making his way over.
Toushiro was rooted to the spot.
Behind him he could hear as Uryuu took it upon himself to snap Ichigo out of his panic, bellowing at him to stop being an idiot and that since he was the fastest to run with Rukia to Urahara's.
"GO!"
The substitute didn't have to be told twice.
When Ishida turned to get her gigai was when the white haired youth finally returned if only for a moment to his sanity, swallowing thickly and barely mustering up enough courage to speak.
"No, don't take it. I'll do it."
Gloved fingers stopped in their reach of the fragile doll, eyes scrutinizing him darkly.
The noble prince reaching for the princess.
Somehow that thought didn't settle with him suddenly.
They regarded each other quietly for a moment before the quincy finally sighed, straightening slowly and stepping away.
"Very well."
Her gigai was quickly scooped into his arms, ashen, bloody and definitely broken beyond even Urahara's repair. The pseudo-blood didn't take long to seep past his robes and make the material stick to his clammy skin, violet eyes staring lifelessly up at the moon with lips and cheeks stained more red than pink and the peaceful smile tugging at her features sending a shiver down his spine.
This wasn't how she was supposed to die.
She couldn't die like this.
She still had a lot to do for Soul Society, still had many achievements to reach, hollows to kill, powers to unleash and questions to answer. Rukia couldn't die, it was that simple. There were too many things that she probably had left undone—hadn't taken him back to get more ice cream, hadn't gotten him pancakes with maybe blueberry, or chocolate, or told him why such a small creature like her had survived so long in a hellish place like Inuzuri.
Why her zanpaktou looked the way it did.
It was effortless, catching up to Ichigo, and so when Urahara's home was finally in view he wasted no time in jerking the doors open to the shop and yelling for Inoue, who came bounding out barely a second later and crying out at the sight of the blood that decorated the small shinigami's body.
"Save her." Ichigo demanded, eyes dark with fear and sudden uselessness, "Save her, Inoue."
A blur again, Toushiro's world, and suddenly the gigai was gone but her blood was there and he had a towel twisted in his fingers, stains of his partner's fall and a reminder as he looked in the bathroom mirror that he had failed. It was as he was coming out that his own gigai made it to the shop, running past Ururu and Jinta to dive straight to the captain.
"Chappy-?" Worry. There was a total dis-inhibition, panic in deep pools of aquamarine that stared back at him as he was grabbed by the collar and slammed into a wall. "WHERE'S CHAPPY?"
"Chappy is fine." He snarled to his doppelganger, anger rising at the treatment. "She never made it into the gigai. The only one hurt was Rukia."
Immediately he was released, the mod-soul not bothering to hide the relief from his gaze as he swallowed thickly.
"I see."
When the two had become so attached he didn't know. But whatever feelings were lying hidden between the two mod-souls was not something the captain much cared for (Rukia was still forefront in his mind) and so he didn't wait around or even bothered with trying to get an explanation.
Instead the white haired youth pushed past his reflection with a clenched fist, tempted to slam it into the nearest wall as he dragged himself to the small dining area and collapsed onto the floor of the room, barely able to keep his balance from his clumsy settling by the low table.
For a few minutes he sat there just simply staring at the table, eyes lost in the pattern of the worn wood, listening to the ticking of the infernal clock on a nearby table until he heard heavy footsteps. Looking up, he immediately regretted the decision when the orange haired substitute narrowed brown eyes at him and came to sit beside the captain, knuckles white as his clenched fists came to rest on the table with Zangetsu leaning against the wall behind him.
His robes were stained with Rukia's drying blood.
A knife would not have sufficed to cut the tension in the room even as Jinta loudly came asking them if either wanted anything to eat. Denied by both males, he shrugged and left them to their silence, not even bothering to close the sliding paper doors behind him and allowing them both better reception of the comings and goings as Ururu nearly crashed into Jinta, wincing as he loudly yelled at her and tugged on her pigtails without mercy before allowing her to take the miraculously unscathed tea to the table before the two.
"Urahara-san said this is for the nerves. Please call me if you need anything else." The little girl said, hugging the tray to her chest and bowing deeply before leaving the room.
Ichigo stared at the teacup and Toushiro didn't bother to move. For a while they sat like that, their eyes straying to the doorway as occasionally one or the other child ran back and forth with supplies, Urahara's beckoning voice holding a twinge of urgency that only made the white haired youth feel worse for his actions.
Still he refused to move.
"What happened." It wasn't necessarily a question—more like a demand darkened by the desperation and fear of the wavering reiatsu that was barely a whisper in the back of their minds, a looming shadow of the reaper and an ironic reminder of their very lives.
Ururu's footfalls were loud in the silence as she took what looked to be a bunch of bandages towards the room where the small shinigami was being tended to, the murmurs of Urahara speaking to Inoue drifting from the open room like gentle waves in the ocean's tide.
Pain had spread from Toushiro's arm to the whole of his chest now, making it increasingly difficult to hide behind every breath as his gaze avoided that of the other young man. He hadn't had the chance to make even a rudimentary tourniquet for his arm so by now the poison most likely had spread easily through his whole system without much difficulty.
Would he start choking on his own blood soon?
"Toushiro-"
"It caught us by surprise."
His reflection in the tea placed before him a while ago seemed ashen and he wondered momentarily how long he could hide this from the others—how much time he could buy so that the redhead kept her focus on the one of higher priority.
"What happened?" Ichigo repeated more forcefully, oblivious to the way sweat began to bead his companion's paling brow.
For a moment the captain considered not saying anything, to simply play mute and remind Ichigo that as a captain Toushiro Hitsugaya owed nothing to his inferior substitute rank. But one quick look at the orange haired youth and he instantly discarded the idea. It wasn't that there was pride at stake here—Ichigo did not own Rukia, had no claim over her and thus was in no position as a man to demand explanations.
But what about Ichigo Kurosaki the friend?
"It appeared in the guise of an old friend of Rukia's and took her up to the roof. . . By the time I got up there. . . . it was a woman, almost a twin to Rukia. It threw me off for a second because they were both touching."
The reiatsu of the two had momentarily mixed and the sight of the young woman had sent a pang of relief through him until he heard Rukia's voice coming from the bleeding gigai. So many careless mistakes they had both made . . . and now she was paying for the both of them with interest.
The arm is nothing, he told himself, it's just a little discomfort.
"Rukia was already poisoned by then. I tried to attack and it changed. . . I couldn't kill it." For a moment Ichigo regarded him with a confused sort of nervous laugh, brown orbs revealing how much he was really starting to question the sanity of the captain.
"What do you mean you couldn't kill it? It was a stupid hollow that I could've taken out in one swipe if it wasn't for Rukia being hurt, Toushiro, what the hell is wrong with-"
"IT WAS MOMO!" Curled fists that had slammed on the table now stung, sending a flaring pain through the whole of his upper chest. But the anger that took over Toushiro was more than enough to ignore it if only momentarily as his aquamarine gaze narrowed and he roughly curled tan fingers around the collar of Ichigo's robes, jerking him violently until they were nose to nose. "IT WAS MOMO DAMN IT, DON'T YOU GET IT?"
All the fire that had built up in the substitute shinigami's eyes died in that one proclamation, silence falling over them like a thick choking blanket as Toushiro clenched his jaw and stubbornly hid the more rapid rising and falling of his chest. His emotions had taxed more out of him than he thought and with that sinking realization taking over he dropped his companion's collar clumsily before turning to the open doorway.
"I'll be outside if you need me."
"Wait, Toushiro-"
Was the floor. . . rapidly getting closer?
"Toushiro? TOUSHIRO!"
If he died there, his only regrets would be never getting some discipline instilled in his lieutenant and being unable to say sorry to Rukia. Other than that, he could say the poison didn't scare him much at all, even as the sight of Ichigo's feet by his face slowly began to blur to total darkness.
No, it didn't scare him at all.
Dying had been a daily part of reports filed, of his fight to rise, of Hyourinmaru's very legacy. Certainly it had to come for him one day as well. . . right?
Was this what it felt like to die? Dear gods, would Kurosaki ever shut up?
Wait—why did it suddenly go all quiet? Where did the light go? He tested his limbs, poking, prodding, searching and testing the movements he had once considered nothing as a living person. Everything seemed. . . normal.
There was black, pure black for a moment, where he could not even see his fingers in front of his nose, couldn't see any spots dancing in his vision if he pressed the heels of his hands to his face.
Certainly this couldn't be death! How damn anticlimactic!
But then his ears began to pick something up.
Two voices.
One, a deep timbre he had heard before in the darkness, seeping into the crevices of his mind like winter chill on a sleepy morning and the other a soft melody on the wind, steady but graceful in the silence like the fall of snowflakes in the calm of night.
Laughter, bells, the pale of a glowing hand, eyes a shade of the palest patch of clear sky.
"It's nice to meet you finally, Hitsugaya-dono."
And in the background, Hyourinmaru's smile.
Aquamarine orbs opened slowly, catching the fading puff of a cold breath that escaped dry lips, shimmering gently with his reiatsu as he shifted in the darkness. Sluggishly things began to come back to him—name, place, who he was, what he did for a living—little things that pulled his feet back down to earth as his gaze instantly fell to the sliver of light from the loosely closed door and wincing at the onslaught of brightness that momentarily sent spots dancing in his vision.
I'm. . . alive?
His hand brushed something warm.
Immediately his attention was drawn to the side, a gasped choke of surprise coming from his lips as his eyes adjusted and a serenely sleeping Rukia came into view. Quickly the captain pushed himself up from beside her and he hesitated momentarily, reeling from the rush of blood to his head but noting with surprise how the pain from before had vanished.
His upper robes were gone, discarded beside the large futon on the floor. The chill of the room sent goosebumps rising from his flesh as curious fingers brushed gingerly over where the puncture wounds had been on his upper arm and realizing with satisfaction that there was nothing there—no wound and certainly none of the pain that had crushed his ribcage in a choking grip before he had given in to unconsciousness.
Then his attention turned to Rukia.
Even if he concentrated, the shadows of the room made it hard to catch the rise and fall of her chest as he slouched and his legs crossed under the thin blanket they shared, watching her still form with increasing worry. Her reiatsu was still quite weak, a quick probe proved efficiently, and he didn't really trust even that to fully drown out the anxiety that kept nagging at him to check her. With an unsatisfied frown he found himself shifting to lean above her, caging her between his arms as he used them for support right above her small shoulders, slowly lowering his head to the petite shinigami's face and tilting slightly so his ear was just above her delicate nose.
The breath that left the small of her body was cool against his ear and the feel of it tickling against his neck sent a strange shiver through him that he couldn't ignore.
But then he heard it.
It was faint at first as his gaze fell to her features. A soft palpitating beneath the weak breath that escaped her small body and made his soul relax above her.
Rukia's heartbeat.
One, two. One, two. One, two. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
It was very subtle but it was there and the comfort, the warmth it sent coursing through him was a feeling he hadn't felt in such a long time that he couldn't help but let out a breath he hadn't realized he was even holding.
Teal orbs fell on pale features curiously then and he couldn't help looking at the young woman before him with the same inquisitiveness that had drawn his attention from the day she had stepped into his office with Matsumoto in tow. Her hair had been brushed to the sides, leaving petite features in full view to his gaze in the near darkness, to allow him to see how long lashes brushed gently against pink-tinted cheeks as she frowned in her sleep, brow furrowing and lips parting slightly.
He was close enough to feel her cool breath on him, to watch enraptured as violet orbs slowly opened in half-lidded confusion and she tried to speak through the haze between consciousness and sleep.
"What. . . . ?"
"Sleep." He whispered to her then, noting how she regarded him in her daze with a strange smile, a heavy sigh escaping parted lips as her eyes closed again and she fell back into oblivion without further question.
When her breaths finally became even once more was the time Toushiro could say that he finally allowed himself to rest again, lying back down beside her and hesitating only for a second before finding her hand under the covers and twining it with his own.
If something happened to her then, the prodigy reasoned before closing his eyes with a sigh that seemed to release the very tension of the world off of his shoulders, he would be the first to know.
"Matsumoto-san I really don't think-" The first voice called in an urgent whisper.
"Ssssshhhh!" He heard his lieutenant hiss then, "you'll wake them, Orihime!"
"But-"
"Seriously, look at them, hun, don't tell me you wouldn't want a picture of this!"
A picture of what?
His brow twitched.
"Oh crap I think he's waking up!"
"Matsumoto-san-"
A small click, and then, "What the hell do you think you're doing, Matsumoto?"
Opening one eye, Hitsugaya didn't bother to hide the suspicious frown from his features, glare already more than well prepared for use at whatever devious plan she had schemed. Because damn it all to hell he was sleeping and it was warm (but not overly so) and he was comfortable and it was just too peaceful for him to really want to put up with her antics.
Nonetheless, once again, Rangiku was unfazed as she waved a camera around.
"No, nothing really bad, Hitsugaya-taichou. Just came to check up on you since I got wind of what happened." The grin on her face was anything but reassuring; in fact, it was quite a bit scary seeing it from the floor as she leaned on the door frame to the room, baby blue eyes straying strangely to his side as she raised a brow. "But from what I can see, it's obvious now that my help isn't needed, and that a~aaall your needs are quite well taken care of."
Beside her, Orihime's gray eyes flicked from the captain to Rangiku and then to his side, cheeks burning pink as she smiled warmly. Toushiro hoped on everything sacred that neither of the two had done anything to him in his sleep because he wasn't dumb, he knew Rangiku and Orihime were friends—and the two in the kitchen were a high threat disaster (or so he had heard from Ichigo and Uryuu's last emergency visit to the fourth division on a stretcher). As he was already, to be honest he was a bit afraid to get up and check what the hell it was she was looking so gleefully at.
"Don't worry captain, I'm leaving now so if you'll excuse me," the buxom blond said with a grand bow, "I will take my leave."
"About time." He called to her retreating back, noting how Orihime took one last sneaking glance at his side before beginning to slide the door closed, "I'll be expecting that paperwork done!"
That was when he tried to move and found he couldn't.
If there was one thing Toushiro Hitsugaya was eternally grateful for in that one instant, it was that the healer had closed the door behind them because as soon as he heard the moan from beside him his spine stiffened and the realization that he wasn't alone in the room became glaringly apparent.
Surely that would've been fine and dandy waking up with a fellow shinigami—ahem, his partner—in the room. . .except for the damn awkward fact that she was pressed to his side with her head in the crook of his shoulder and was currently in the process of waking up from the noise he had created.
Shitshitshitshitshit.
His face was burning, dear gods above his face was burning and probably worse than Renji's hair right now and damn that old cat to hell, he would make her burn for taking that freaking picture! What the hell would he do if Byakuya caught sight of it? What the hell would he SAY?
"Yeah Byakuya, it's not what you think! Why was I half naked? Oh, uh, well because you see the night before-"
Yeah that would go over quite well. So well in fact, that he would have a front row seat to the Kuchiki captain's infamous final stage of bankai.
Not necessarily the welcome home ceremony he was looking forward to-hell, paperwork sounded like heaven all of a sudden.
And even though these realizations passed at the speed of light through a panicking captain of the tenth division, he found himself completely paralyzed in horror as violet eyes opened and a faint, warm breath brushed against his bare shoulder. Technically it was only her head leaning on him, the rest of her body at an awkward angle because of her injuries the night before but that still didn't help the fact that damn it there was a female sleeping next to him and he was half naked and that damn picture couldn't look any worse (unless there were more clothes missing on her half—not a train of thought he would rather pursue given the current circumstances)
"C-captain-?" Immediately Rukia shot up and let out a strangled gasp, clutching her abdomen as she bit her lip and tried not to let the scream of pain get past a moan. The door opened behind them, Tessai quick to dive to her side and help the small woman lay back down but not before berating her gently and reminding her that this wasn't exactly the first time she had seen such an injury so she should know better. From her position on the futon Rukia started rolling her eyes but then hissed in pain, knuckles white as her small fingers gripped at the mustached man's ever-present apron.
"Alright, not the smartest idea I've had, I get it." She said, noting how both men in the room eyed her disapprovingly.
"Inoue-san couldn't finish healing the basic wound because she had to deal with reversing the effects of the poison first on the both of you. A little longer and she would've passed out on us as well so we told Ichigo to escort her home and put him in charge of making sure she got her rest."
Violet eyes flicked in thought to Toushiro, who fidgeted in the sudden attention when he realized the thoughts reflected in her gaze.
"I'm fine." He said before she could get a word out of her mouth. "It just managed to get to my arm is all." She was scrutinizing him then, worry furrowing her brow and a subtle grimace marring her features. It amazed him how even there, lying in what could've been her death bed she totally forewent her own well-being to focus on him.
To genuinely worry for him.
"Well, since both of you are awake, I'm sure Urahara-san will want to know so I'll inform him and bring you some breakfast while I'm at it." A sigh, and Tessai shifted his weight slowly to better stand.
"Tessai-san I'm not hungry, thank-"
"I. will. Bring. You. Breakfast." Pushing up his glasses, Rukia noted the dangerous glint in his eyes and how his nostrils flared in warning, subconsciously trying to cower deeper into the fluff of the pillow behind her head when he brought his face to bend close to hers menacingly.
"Ok." She squeaked. "Yessir."
Satisfied, Tessai nodded before getting up and sending a strange glare to the captain still sitting silently by Rukia on the futon, reminding the petite shinigami (more like threatening her) over one shoulder not to move anymore before slipping silently out the door and leaving it slightly ajar.
They listened as Tessai's shuffling went further and further down the hall, now fully aware of the birds perched on the roof's edge that chirped merrily in the sudden silence. Violet orbs strayed up towards the window, a half smile on the noblewoman's face as she winced in the flow of warm sunlight that made the wood floor glow but enjoying the feel of morning falling over pale skin.
". . . Does it hurt a lot?" Slight shifting and she swiveled to face the captain beside her, acutely aware of his gaze on her face as she shook her head in denial.
"It's not like this is the first time, just like Tessai-san said. I'll just have to ride it out a bit until Orihime gets home because I really don't feel spiritually stable enough to do it myself right now. Maybe later I'll-"
"Move your hands, Rukia." Before the young woman could protest Toushiro gingerly curled his fingers around her palms and lifted her hands down to her sides, all the while avoiding her gaze by concentrating on his own actions.
The irony . . . hadn't it been her hands grabbing him closer in the dream?
Too much in shock at the sudden intimacy of the white haired young man, Rukia couldn't even protest as he raised a glowing green hand to her stomach and gently pressed it to her robes.
As soon as his hand made contact she gasped, causing Toushiro to jerk back in surprise.
"Did I-"
"No, sorry, sorry." A sheepish grin. "It was just. . . a bit . . . cold."
"Sorry."
"No, it's ok." Was her quiet reply. "It felt a bit strange was all. You didn't hurt me, don't worry Hitsugaya-taichou."
"Strange?" He asked, trying to concentrate more on his hands than the pink tinge on her cheeks. Both of their gazes followed his hand as he lowered glowing green fingertips to her abdomen once more. "How?"
For a moment Rukia watched him work, entranced by the glow that illuminated his features and half clothed body. There with the sunlight behind them and a serious, concentrated furrow of his white brow the young woman couldn't help but stare at the light scars scattered over his body, at the muscles that rippled under tan skin when he moved, and the way a single thick strand of white stubbornly hung over teal eyes.
Her fingers itched to brush it aside.
"It was cold but it felt good. Kind of like when you step in cool water and it shocks you at first, but then you get used to it and it soothes you."
A slight blush dusted light cheeks as she swallowed and ran a hand over her face to try and clear her mind, making it as nonchalant as possible as a delicate sigh left parted pink lips.
She stared at the ceiling, unaware of the captain's eyes on her, how he sat and tried to concentrate on healing her when all he wanted was to finish and get the feeling of her reiatsu away from him, to get away from the strange urge to feel it closer—as close as it had been when her hand had been protectively held in his own during sleep, or even as close (dare he remember) as in the dream a mere two nights ago.
Lavender. . . where lavender had engulfed him.
He had never experienced it before—the need, the want of something so badly and it unsettled him deeply.
Nonetheless, the pulse of his reiatsu was soothing, fresh rain that washed over Rukia's body and made her smile when she noted her breath coming out in a white little puff. Watching how she lifted a small hand to the little cloud, her companion tried to lower his gaze stoically to his own working hand until her voice made him look at her once more.
"Does this happen every time you try to use kidou?"
He swallowed. "Yeah."
Looking at him, she tilted her head slightly on the pillow, eyes glittering with mirth. "I can see why you aren't part of the fourth division."
"I would've frozen everything before I got a chance to heal anything." Was the muttered reply.
"I'm sure with enough training that wouldn't be a big problem." She retorted, curling fingers playfully around the little puff that left her mouth at the end of the sentence.
"Everyone tells me it hurts when I try to heal them. The only person it doesn't seem to bother at all is me."
"Or me." She added.
"Yeah." He corrected, looking at her. "Or you. Must be because your zanpaktou is ice based too."
"Yeah, makes sense."
A moment of quiet as they both lazily strayed through their thoughts, one of the little gray birds coming to peck at the windowsill before taking off and fluttering back to the nest Rukia was sure was there in the roof. There was ice beginning to form on the edges of the window, weaving branch-like tendrils that misted the glass and fought the warmth of the sun's rays and reminded her much of the way her own heart seemed to be fighting to understand what exactly was going on—both yesterday, and strangely enough, now.
"Hitsugaya-taichou?" There was something different laced in her voice when she finally chose to speak again. What it was, Toushiro couldn't really tell as he looked up to meet her gaze and waited for her to continue.
Swallowing, the deep glimmer of worry in her eyes didn't escape the captain before she asked in barely above a whisper, "what happened?"
Her body was beginning to reject his spell—the wound was nearly fully healed even as he hesitated and lifted his hand from her warm stomach to lay it in his lap, afraid of the emotions taking over and possibly causing him to fluctuate enough to hurt her.
Carefully, gingerly almost he lifted emotionless features to stare at Rukia in his usual business-like manner-the poker face everyone in Sereitei was treated to. What had happened had been delicate for the two of them, had ripped open wounds he had thought he'd healed long ago through reasoning alone.
Funny really, how weak he felt inside all of a sudden.
Though he did have to admit he was slightly caught off guard by his partner's need to take the problem head-on instead of allowing herself time to collect her thoughts on the matter like he had tried to do when faced by an angry Ichigo.
Even now, he wasn't sure he was ready to swallow everything at once.
The way she faced him, mouth a grim line and eyes penetrating in the silence made him respect her—as a woman, as someone worthy of strength and honesty and the thought of possibly lying to her to protect her was discarded.
This was Rukia Kuchiki—there was no child here.
"How far do you remember?"
Violet eyes flitted thoughtfully to the side then, staring at the wall as if the memories were replaying themselves for her before finally turning back to him.
"The roof. Ashido—" She stopped herself then, frowning darkly. "It stabbed me. Everything after that is a blur. I'm not sure what was real and what wasn't after that." The nod that followed from the captain was subtle and grim, sigh heavy as he shifted to try and get some feeling back in his legs and ran a tired hand through white hair.
"When I got up onto the roof your head was in its lap and it was talking to you. There was a pool of blood there—your blood. For a moment I thought it was you holding the gigai but I heard you say something and I realized that you never left the gigai."
For a moment Rukia looked confused. "It looked like me?"
"Not completely like you. There were some differences. Her voice was softer, higher pitched. Your eyes are sharper than hers and the strand that goes down your face-" He pointed down the length of his nose with a finger- "is just one while hers-"
"Splits into two." The petite shinigami finished for him suddenly, looking to him for confirmation. Once more he nodded. "Did she. . . cough at all?
The white brow that was raised should've been enough of a reply, even as he retorted hesitantly, "should she have?"
Poking cautiously at her abdomen Rukia sat up then, looking away as she removed the covers with a quick rustle of robes and hands and began to get up.
"Yeah she should've."
"What difference would it have made?" The captain asked as Tessai came in with a tray, already glaring down Rukia, who huffed and let herself practically collapse back onto the futon. Glaring her down, the shop assistant set the small portable table/tray before the two of them.
For a moment the only noise was the clinking of utensils and plates, the petite woman poking at the rice with her chopsticks thoughtfully before offering a halfhearted thank you to Tessai and letting her gaze flick sideways to Toushiro timidly.
"Her name was Hisana." a small portion of rice was expertly grabbed between plain wooden chopsticks before being quickly popped into her mouth and chewed. She swallowed, taking a large gulp of the cup of water set beside the plate on the small carrying tray. "Hisana . . . she was my sister."
Toushiro had yet to really do more with his bowl but fiddle with it with awkward, edgy fingers, instead choosing to sit silently even as Tessai's gaze from behind thick glasses fell heavily on him and made him actually shiver. The shop assistant hesitatingly slipped out of the room after a moment, but not before fussing over Rukia one more time and leaving her none the wiser to the sudden annoyed twitch of the white haired young man's eye when he tried to glare down the back of their host.
"Oh don't worry, sir, it's ok." Rukia said, effectively snapping his attention back to her as he realized she probably assumed the brooding look down at his rice was because of something she had said (once again surprising him with how fluidly she slipped back into their previous conversation). "To be honest, the only reason I know she existed was because of Byakuya-niisama. It probably sounds horrible but I really don't know much about her. It's very hard to get Byakuya-niisama to speak about her at all."
Oh. . . so her sister was dead.
Now that just made him feel worse.
"Do you. . . regret not knowing her?" The small mass of food that was about to reach Rukia's mouth stopped by soft lips, hovering as she seemed to mull the question over with a pensive frown. Her feet crossed and tiny pale toes curled unconsciously in from the cool of the room under the small portable serving tray.
"No," She replied in a breathy voice after a long pause. The attempt to play it off as casual with a nonchalant shrug didn't fool him. "No, I don't."
Toushiro could understand that, he guessed.
Finally he sighed, picking up his own chopsticks and picking at his bowl of rice much like she had in thought, leading them into a comfortable quiet interrupted only by the shifting of one of the other inhabitants of the house or the occasional car down the old abandoned road. Even the birds, once chirpy and jumpy outside the window had settled down more, many of them most likely out hunting for food or soaring in the air with wings spread gracefully to the wind in surrender.
Much like Momo had the night before.
"May I ask you a question, sir?" Cerulean eyes flicked to her expectantly then, crashing back to reality and the chopsticks he hadn't even noticed had slipped out of his slack grip clinking against the bowl as he tried to pick them up casually again.
Rukia looked down at her food, visibly trying to muster up the courage to follow up on her thoughts and finally steeling herself enough to turn to the captain once more with all emotion wiped clean off of her features if only for a moment. Chopsticks once held in nimble fingers were primly set down beside the bowl, the raven haired shinigami raising her head with timid, almost fearful curiosity to regard him.
"I saw my friend Ashido, and a sister I never really met. . ." The voice he had learned to expect as strong and unwavering became soft and pained in that instant and even if she hadn't chosen to ask what he could already see coming, he knew he didn't like that voice when it came from her. "But. . . what did you see?"
A wave of sickness overtook Hitsugaya as he looked at his chopsticks and an image of Momo smiling, giggling at him flashed through his mind. His stomach churned, twisted with guilt and frustration, with everything he was trying hard to repress as he lowered the utensils slowly, placing them beside the bowl without turning to face Rukia.
He didn't owe her anything—not the truth—not yet. Not when he wasn't ready to face it himself.
That was what his head told him.
"It was Hinamori." But that. . . that was what his heart told him to say even as it grated out huskily from his lips.
A moment of consideration as she seemed to think over his answer, eyes reflecting a wisdom that seemed a million years superior to her small form as Rukia simply nodded. "I see."
Again they found themselves in a quiet room with the ticking of the clock down the hall barely above a small click in the back of their minds. Urahara had long ago left with Jinta in tow and Tessai had disappeared to the underground areas for one reason or another with Ururu, most likely doing a million and one errands for the crazy shop owner.
All of this was made apparent by the flickering reiatsu of each individual as Toushiro Hitsugaya ate and tried to keep his mind clear of everything but the woman beside him, of how seemingly far he was from everything that had once seemed so stable (almost black and white in his life) and coming to the conclusion that somehow she seemed to have, without lifting a finger, caused it.
Would things. . . have been different had it been him and someone else? Sure, maybe things would've flowed a bit easier, certainly enough to the point where he could follow and make quick work of everything, of the obstacle before them and go back home to brood over the shock of fighting Hinamori (once again, in different settings and different times) but. . .
Overall, through everything that had happened and every word he had said to her, every breath taken in her presence and reaction that had intrigued him:
Would he have preferred someone else?
"I. . . I have something I wish to ask of you, sir."
Toushiro raised a silent brow as he took a hesitant mouthful of rice, the question that had been revealed in his mind fading away with her penetrating gaze beside him.
"I want to ask. . . no, I want to request, sir, that you let me take this target down alone."
He nearly choked on the rice.
"Denied." Was the reply after not even a second of thought.
Violet eyes narrowed with barely suppressed frustration as he turned to her with a look that clearly began to question how much of her brain had been left undamaged by the poison (and by now thoroughly convinced things would've gone a lot smoother with someone else). For a moment they stared at each other, Rukia's eyes allowing only a slight flash of anger to pass through before she shut even that out, violet orbs two dangerous chips of hardened ice that penetrated through him for one eternal second before her head was lowered gracefully back to her bowl. Without looking she grabbed her chopsticks and he watched, intrigued by the sudden change in the young woman and quite unsure as to how to respond other than as a captain—so he scowled and turned back to his own food.
What was that saying again? Hell hath no fury. . .
"May this subordinate at least have the chance for you to hear her reasoning out?" Her bangs hid whatever expression was on her face from him and for a moment he wished he could cradle her dainty stubborn chin in his fingers and force her to face him.
Ah, yes. It was hell hath no fury like woman scorned.
"Will this superior have to hear out some teary woe-is-me story?" He retorted in a tone dripping with sarcasm.
Cerulean eyes widened just a fraction as a chill went through him and he realized that the temperature of the room had just dropped, if only enough for him to notice-and that wasn't Hyourinmaru's doing.
"Let me kill it."
"No."
Silence, Rukia turning then to look at the captain without budging under his warning glare.
"I can do this, sir, please let me kill it."
"No."
"They sent us both on this mission and it won't come out unless I go out of hiding. Let me kill it."
"Tch. You can't stay in here forever, Rukia." A smirk as he regarded her, pointing his chopsticks at her for emphasis. "And once you go out, trust me I'll be there to get it before you do."
Now that, that had done it.
Even though the young Kuchiki didn't show it, she was seething inside as she tried to swallow down another bite of rice. How dare he treat her like some petty little subordinate who couldn't even take a step without hurting herself? What he said, the way he said it—it was a challenge, damn it, it was a freaking challenge!
Her eyes glittered dangerously then in a gaze much like her brother's in all its undignified glory.
More stillness between them as the tension in the room spread, up until Ururu's familiar pigtails poked through the doorway followed by large watery violet eyes that went shyly from one form to the other and Rukia looked away, unable to hold the captain's challenging gaze any longer.
"Are you done eating yet?" Sighing, Rukia winced as she pushed herself up, wiping her face clean of the anger still radiating in her reiatsu. She barely offered a thank you to Toushiro as he helped her gather the dishes and handed them over to Ururu, who bowed before taking the tray slowly.
And then it hit her.
Well, it wasn't like she hadn't exactly broken the rules before. . .
Yes, let's just add on another tick to our "I broke the rules today" board. Was the waspish reply from her zanpaktou. I'm sure Senbonzakura-dono will be quite happy to give me a three hour sermon on such things. . . again.
Rukia shrugged off the comment.
"Here, let me help you, Ururu-chan." The smile was gentle but there was obviously something deeper hidden behind the sweet voice. Immediately Toushiro's eyes narrowed in silent warning to the young woman, gleaming dangerously as his lips went into a familiar frown of disapproval that heavily loomed over her shoulders. Nonetheless, Rukia wasn't going to allow him the satisfaction of knowing he was getting under her skin and so she simply tried to ignore it.
He wasn't stupid, he was a prodigy for a reason and right now every cell in his spiritual body was telling him the tiny woman was up to something-and it was most certainly nothing good.
Just what the hell are you planning?
The two glass cups clinked in her grasp as she lifted them gently from the tray, ushering the girl out with feeble protests thrown at her. "Come on, let me help you, I just need to stretch my legs a bit. I promise I won't be a bother."
With her eyes alone she dared Toushiro to protest as she looked at him over one shoulder, to be a jerk and deny her the chance even to move before coolly prancing out after Ururu with all the aplomb of someone who had just won at the sight of the narrowed gaze following her out of the room.
Great—Matsumoto now has an accomplice in headache-inducing behavior. That's just wonderful.
Sighing, he let himself fall back down onto the futon before closing his eyes and letting the melody of the birds outside lull him back into a calm state, figuring letting her stretch a little wouldn't be so bad as long as she returned to rest (because if he made a fuss over something so trivial he might as well have a heart attack over everything else that could possibly happen on this damn mission).
The captain may not get many chances to heal others, but that didn't mean he hadn't finished the process efficiently—nonetheless, it would take a while still for her soul to "realize" it had been healed and so really, there was nothing to worry about because surely she wasn't crazy enough to try and pull a stunt in her current state.
Really, she wasn't that crazy, right?
It was in that position that Jinta found him, sliding the door fully open before leaning on the doorframe and raising a bright red brow casually, taking in the captain's calm and reveling in the chance to stir up trouble as he picked at a nail unhurriedly with a barely suppressed grin. He was sure the man on the floor knew he was there, and so he took his sweet time leaning on the threshold as he counted backwards in his head from twenty slowly—surely that would be enough of a head start, no?
7. . .
6. . .
5. . .
4. . .
That Kuchiki lady had scolded him once and he was nowhere close to forgetting it, even as she rushed past him and Urahara on their way back home with a finger raised to her lips and eyes pleading.
3. . .
2. . .
Payback was a bitch.
"So I was wondering, captain sir, how long will it take you to realize the lady just high-tailed it out of here?"
Immediately the arm that had been covering Toushiro's eyes raised and he let the full of his shocked gaze fall to the redheaded boy.
"What?"
"You heard me, don't play dumb! She just ditched your sorry a-"
A string of expletives drowned out everything else as Toushiro threw on his robes and leaped past the boy, hitting a dead run past Tessai and Urahara (the shop owner simply pointed a closed fan at the front door with a smile), nearly knocking over two shelves in his rush and almost ripping the front doors out of place as he dove into the warm morning sun and immediately pushed off into the skies.
There.
The hard part hadn't been to find her. Even though she had masked her weak reiatsu it had been done while she ran and so there was a faint enough trail that he had a general idea in which direction she was heading. If he ran fast enough with shunpo, he could probably catch up with her simply by following the trail before it faded out.
Simple child's play.
Now for the hard part—what the hell would he do when he caught her? She wanted to kill the target badly—enough to take it on in her current state and most likely chance it by sending a bright flare of reiatsu into the heavens in hopes the monster recognized it and got drawn like a moth to flame.
In his haste he nearly tripped over an electrical wire between two different sized buildings.
Assuming he was correct (did he really even need to confirm that after her mad little stunt?) , she had two possible theories to follow: one, that he had grown angry and left her to her own luck; or two, that he would immediately head out to find her. Of course it was a little too late that he realized that he had foolishly left himself unmasked and so cursed when he felt her speed further and further away from him.
But that didn't deter him.
He was a captain damn it, and his shunpo was superior to hers—not to mention she was still weak from all the healing her body had to settle into. If she pushed herself too much she wouldn't make it past the first swipe of a poisoned claw and that too, gave his steps just enough of a boost to push forward and find her.
It only took him a couple seconds to reach her, and he could tell that she knew because Rukia made the mistake of glancing back, hesitating as she leapt away from a seven-story apartment complex.
With an angry scowl Toushiro pushed off one last time before tackling her and sending them both tumbling down (nearly ramming into a poor bird that squawked indignantly) and coming to a graceless landing on a nearby building. Even as angry as he was at her, the captain encased Rukia without a second thought and protected her from the harsh landing on the rough cement, unaware of everything but the small body encased in his firm hold.
Violet eyes fell to his arm as they lay there catching their breaths and she noted with guilt that there were a plethora of fresh cuts and scrapes that had probably been caused by his landing.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" He hissed furiously. His companion was breathing hard, sweat beading her brow even as she sat up, barely able to move from the sudden exertion but nonetheless meeting his glare stubbornly with one of her own.
"Restoring a friend's honor, sir." He couldn't help the mocking laugh that escaped him then, running a hand through the white tufts of hair with frustration as he too sat up and leaned all his weight on one braced arm.
"Yes, Rukia, by killing yourself you will restore your damn friend's honor, by all means please continue." Was the scornful reply dripping with bitter sarcasm.
It couldn't be helped then, Rukia sent him a scathing glare. Captain or not he had no right to interfere on such a delicate matter and discard Ashido like—
"I'm doing what I believe in my heart to be right."
"Well, your heart has no override on my authority."
"It does when I say so." She said, mouth scrunching into a stubborn frown that would've struck him as rather endearing under different circumstances. But they weren't and so instead he scowled at her.
"And who the hell gave you that authority?"
"My own damn gut!" She yelled suddenly, stabbing a thumb to her chest for emphasis.
He raised an eyebrow then, for a moment overruling the outrage of being yelled at by someone of lower rank and instead aiming to get under her skin as revenge.
"Your guts talk to you?"
That totally threw her off and for a moment she blinked at him dumbly before wide violet eyes narrowed slightly, lower lip jutting out as she raised her head and crossed her arms.
"You're not stopping me."
"Damn straight I will. I don't care how hell bent you are on doing this, I'm not budging. That's my final order on this matter."
"I told you already sir, you can punish me later but I'm going to be the one to kill it."
"And you won't get killed because. . ?"
"That doesn't matter."
"Yes it does, Rukia, don't be an idiot. You can't just prance around hoping nothing happens to you."
"I never said it wouldn't." She retorted seriously.
A look into her unwavering gaze and then he couldn't help but look away, for some reason uncomfortable suddenly at the thought of her lying in a pool of her blood like she had been a mere twenty-four hours before.
"Rukia, I'm tired. I really would just rather leave this mess to a minimum."
"So what you're telling me is that I'm a hindrance now?" Even though her eyes narrowed angrily, if he had looked he would've noted the flash of hurt that flickered for a second before being drowned out by the hardening of her resolve.
"Actually now that you put it that way, yes." He replied frostily, quickly losing his patience with the young woman.
If that was what it took to get her to just sit still for a while, to allow him to do his job and protect her, then that was how it was going to be and Toushiro Hitsugaya would hold no qualms at getting his hands dirty in the matter.
But then he sensed her shifting and aquamarine orbs watched in slight confusion as Rukia rose to her feet, sword gleaming in the sun proudly as it was slowly drawn and swiveled so that the tip nearly met his nose.
She really had to stop taking pages from Byakuya's notes—the way she stood poised was exactly like her brother's stance, calm and unwavering but powerful in all its silence and Toushiro didn't like at all where this was beginning to head.
"Mae, Sode no Shirayuki."
A sigh.
"Rukia don't make a foolish mistake, let's be mature here."
As the small woman fluidly shifted into a defensive stance, Toushiro couldn't help but stare as a cool wave of her reiatsu reached him, dark in all its magnifying glory of anger, swirling around her and sending a breeze to kick up dust and ink black hair to the silent beat of her heart's call.
"Coming from the captain who sent Soul Society into an uproar with his disappearance, the captain the others and I believed as someone honorable and worth backing up even when Sereitei turned its back on him, that's saying something, don't you think so, sir?"
When we all chose to help you restore your honor.
He wouldn't lie—that one stung. It was a low blow and they both knew it even as he scowled at her, rising slowly to his feet with her blade following closely and began to unsheathe Hyourinmaru.
"You have one last chance to back down, Kuchiki." Was the low sneered warning. "I'm not going to say it again. Fall back."
There was a serene smile on her features, wise and refreshingly beautiful in all its terrible defiance as she lowered a pure white blade to a perfect horizontal posture.
"No."
The first swipe of his blade was hard for her to counter, even as she clenched her jaw and tried not to allow her fear, her shame for having to be pushed to such measures reflect in the gaze that she locked with the captain's.
One, two three, he wasn't even breathing hard as she danced at the edge of his blade, ducking, weaving, attempting to keep her footing as he slowly drove her towards the ledge of the building.
"What the hell do you wish to accomplish from this?" He snarled at her then, terrifying her to the core when their gazes met over crossed blades and she had a hard time not to just give up right there, to slip up and allow him to get what he wanted so that the push of his reiatsu wouldn't be so suffocating on her anymore.
"If you had listened sir, you would know." Was her own smirking reply before she tried to kick him, using the opening it created to duck away and gain a slight reprieve from him.
She couldn't win, she knew this.
Still, mulishly she continued, barely dodging a counterattack that would've cleanly beheaded her before gaining some distance and coming to a stop, chest rising and falling deeply with each ragged breath.
I've seen worse than this. Was the thought that strayed momentarily through her as Sode no Shirayuki was raised once more. If I can distract him just a little maybe I could—
That was when she noticed it.
Behind the captain, the backdrop that was the blue sky suddenly had a thin black line drawn horizontally against it, the familiar tearing noise too loud not to recognize as her eyes widened.
"HITSUGAYA-TAICHOU!"
How neither of them had noted the third presence coming to fruition behind Toushiro was beyond either shinigami. It wasn't until the white haired youth was rammed from the side by Rukia that he realized she had just saved him from a second poisoning, barely having ducked the claw herself.
"You two really don't learn, do you?" They both looked up from the rooftop to the skies above, where silhouetted against the backdrop of the clear morning skies Ashido stared back at them dressed in tattered shinigami robes, barefooted, and thick fur cape ever present on his shoulders.
A snarl escaped Rukia, fury coursing through her veins as she got up and raised her sword.
"Back down, Rukia." The captain called beside her as he raised an arm to stop her.
"Just one chance sir, that's all I ask. One fucking chance to teach this bastard a lesson for destroying whatAshido means to me."
Silence.
"You guys still alive down there?" The doppelganger called before landing and sending a wink at Rukia, who only tightened her grip on Sode no Shirayuki and barely reigned in her emotions not to just rush in. She was a shinigami and she had been proud of that—even here, when a situation called for her as a friend, as a comrade, in the end she couldn't bring herself to finally completely break away from the rules as easily as Ichigo had.
Toushiro noted how she trembled with barely suppressed fury, with the primal itch to fight and spill her opponent's blood in morbid repayment for whatever personal loss this friend represented.
Does he really mean that much to you?
From the corner of her eye Rukia caught the glint of Hyourinmaru as he was lowered to Toushiro's side, a heavy sigh escaping him before stepping back and the arm once raised protectively in front of her was lowered away.
Ashido was getting closer.
"If he hits you once, I step in."
Taking both hands slowly out of his pockets, their target flicked them out to reveal the long, curving talons from the night before, the blade that Rukia had once fondly admired at Ashido's side fading away.
Her jaw clenched, mouth suddenly dry.
"Make it fair, sir, three."
There was a smile on her friend's—no, that monster's face.
"Two or nothing."
A slight flicker and suddenly he was diving for them at a speed that forced both shinigami to dive to opposite sides.
Breathing heavily, Rukia rose from where she had tumbled, smirking as she wiped the blood roughly from the edge of her lip (where she had been biting it nervously) and nodded.
"Deal!" She called across the roof. "But that one doesn't count!"
