A/N: Ye GADS I hate exams!
Mon Cœur S'ouvre à Ta Voix
(My heart opens itself to your voice)
When My Heart Is Split Like Rio IV
"Hitsugaya-san."
It left a strange, tingly feeling on her lips.
"Hitsugaya-san."
Whispering it to the trees, to the breeze, to the koi, it felt . . . nice.
She shouldn't be saying his name like this. Maybe she was delusional. Maybe she was just so mentally traumatized from her last experience that now certain words—names—carried a flavor with them. The flavor of moments spent together, of facing death, and even of the inkling of trust that made their awkward, slowly budding friendship something possible.
The name of a prodigy.
Having said it so many times in the human world, it should've been normal for her. And certainly one would think she wouldn't take it so to heart after having immediately gone onto a first name basis with the substitute shinigami of Karakura Town.
Then again, this was a captain who never really spoke to anyone apart from those he was forced to. No one really knew much about him except the tiny inner circle he kept around him—namely one Hinamori Momo and Matsumoto Rangiku, both of whom probably had taken many years to build the strong bonds they had with him.
And even then at times it seemed like he kept them at arm's length.
Rukia didn't think Toushiro Hitsugaya understood the surprise, the honor she had felt at being allowed if only one step closer to such an admirable being.
"Hitsugaya-san. It sounds . . . nice."
Rukia's features reflected the smile she knew was on her zanpaktou's face as she sat on the bridge with her knees drawn to her chest.
"Yeah," She whispered, blushing slightly as she placed her chin on her knees, "I think so too."
It was all silence in the garden with the exception of a few birds chirping occasionally or the shifting of water from the koi's movements. If she dared to close her eyes she could feel the reiatsu of her brother, muted as it was, not too far away inside the mansion most likely preparing for the day.
The maids continued scurrying, gossiping, filling the corridors with life that one would swear could not be there without them. And if she truly strained her ears, her concentration, her very soul, even the shifting of Sode no Shirayuki could be heard over the din of the maids. The way the silk of the kimono shifted, slipping like a whisper over the snowy spirit as she too shifted from her perch on the edge of an iced over, broken bench that had maybe one day long ago seen better times.
Her favorite place.
"I miss Zangetsu-san."
A smile that Rukia hadn't even been aware of on her pale features faltered as she allowed her toes to curl over the edge of the bridge's polished wood.
As much as she didn't want to acknowledge it, there was a little hollow in her heart where she had grown used to feeling Ichigo and his spirit reside. It was tiny and maybe a little ignored, but it was there all the same and it reminded her of the price they all had to pay for the war.
Life continued even after the universe shifted—and it would continue regardless of whether she was there to fight by his side or not, to see him make a name for himself, to meet his first girlfriend, or watch his sisters grow into young women.
"Yeah, I miss him too."
Shinigami belonged in the spirit world. She belonged in the spirit world.
It was just meant this way. And Rukia feared the day Yamamoto-genryusai finally decided to discourage contact with those in the human world because she knew well enough that though many things would be different, some were better meant to stay a certain way.
"Well, we know the human world best of all. Maybe that will be an advantage for us in future missions?"
Even if it meant sacrifices on both sides.
Nonetheless, Rukia put on a brave face and offered her zanpaktou a weak smile.
"Yeah, maybe you're right."
"Who are you talking to?"
Violet eyes rose from the water to the young man now standing behind her on the small bridge and a welcoming grin made it onto her face in such a fast switch that the petite shinigami was sure she would've made her brother proud.
"Sode no Shirayuki."
Scooting over without a second thought, the black haired noblewoman patted the spot where she had just been.
For a moment the redhead hesitated, raising a brow. "I really don't think I fit there."
Giving him a dry look, Rukia replied, "You lived in a tiny cave for hundreds of years. I'm sure cramping up your legs a little to sit beside me won't kill you."
Unable to find a countering statement, Ashido gave in with an accepting sigh and turned to sit with crossed legs beside her. For a moment there was nothing again but the birds in the trees above them, the feeling of the sun's rays on their backs, and any sadness Rukia had felt melted unwillingly into a contentedness she hadn't felt in a really long time.
A sense of normalcy that didn't include orange hair and school uniforms.
"There are so many things that have changed . . . but there's just as many that are exactly the same."
There was a subtle sadness cloaking Ashido, an uncertainty draped around his shoulders that seemed to push down on his strong, broad back, his gaze falling calmly to the koi in the pond below them and following the swirling patterns of orange and white as they waded through their tiny home.
If the statement hadn't been so somber she would've laughed at the tall man sitting on the tiny bridge beside her. Instead words were mulled over for a moment, both motionless as she tried to think of something to say to a feeling that she too, was trying to cope with.
"It's bound to happen." Was her delayed reply, eyes distant as images of orange hair and a permanent scowl pervaded through her mind. "Time stands still for no one."
Even now, three months later the wounds were still bared open and bleeding among some of their comrades, and it could be felt in the collective exhaustion as they all toiled forward inch by cruel inch to regain some sense of control over what they once thought to be normal lives.
Many of them were still suffering the aftereffects.
"But think about it," She said, shrugging as she licked her lips and tilted her head slightly towards him, "if things didn't happen the way they did, you wouldn't be the Ashido I know; the same shinigami sitting beside me right now. Maybe you wouldn't even be here. For all we know, you'd be a captain or a ranked officer who wouldn't have ever given me the time of day."
Brow furrowed and face completely serious, Ashido turned towards her. "I would've given you the time of day."
Giving a light chuckle, Rukia shook her head before dipping her nose into the little nook between her knees, eyes visible as they followed a falling leaf from one of her brother's many sakura trees.
"No, you wouldn't. You would've made yourself a great man, and you'd be out there working so hard that you wouldn't have time to know everyone. Well—you're great enough as it is already, so I'm sure that pretty soon I'll just be a passing face for you."
The way she said it with such certainty bothered Ashido to the point that he could no longer just sit beside her and not say anything. But instead of arguing with her, he figured he could safely say he knew her well enough in the short time span that they had spent together to be able to follow through with his actions and make her see that he meant it.
With that in mind, he swiveled to face her, regarding her profile for a moment as they sat on the bridge.
"Rukia, look at me." Hesitantly the petite shinigami let her eyes rise first and then her whole head followed until she had craned her neck enough to face him fully from her seat. It was to her surprise then that she saw his hand and felt as his long calloused finger lifted her chin so that they were looking straight at each other and she would be unable to look away.
Caught off guard, Rukia could do little but let her eyes momentarily widen, the query on her tongue dying as violet locked with silver and she came to notice the profound sincerity within the depths of his eyes.
It left her breathless for a moment.
"You've seen what I've been through and you thought of me enough to come back even when you didn't have to."
"But I didn't-"
A stern look aimed at her completely cut off the remark as she clamped her mouth shut.
"If there is anything that I would ever want to tell you before I die, it's this: I will never, ever forget you."
Why there was heat rising to her cheeks even as she sat there, enraptured by the intensity of his gaze was beyond her guess.
"Do you understand?"
She could do little but nod, finally released from his grasp and turning to face the pond. After a moment she finally sighed, chuckling a little.
"Thanks, Ashido."
She didn't have to look up to feel the smile on her companion's features.
It's become a routine, and that's the worst part of it all.
When he walks down the hall he actually nods at the receptionist and she smiles before simply turning back to her work, because he knows where he's going, and she knows where he's headed, and there's nothing to say between them except the 'good morning' and 'how are you' but he's above those pleasantries because they are false and hollow and his responses would be nothing but a grunt or a mutter here or there with emphasis at some points to make it seem as if he actually was making an effort to speak.
But he's way beyond that—three months does that to people.
Her room is not as small as the others.
The design is simple, as per rules of the fourth division, but it is clear that her friends have tried to breathe a little cheeriness into the otherwise quiet and dreary room where a solitary pale figure lies under many blankets, barely breathing. Strands of brown hair have been tenderly placed into a loose braid, and neglect is the word farthest from his mind upon laying eyes on her. There's flowers on the nightstand and the blinds have been left open to let the sun stream in and pool on her lap to warm hands that have not felt the heat of movement in many a day.
He stops just inside the door and just stares.
For a moment Toushiro Hitsugaya stands alone and the suffocating guilt, the anger, the burning hatred all resurface and he can't bring himself to step inside without feeling the tendrils of a dark embrace upon his heart.
But then he sighs, a tremble overtakes him, and it's all gone; all of it just fades away and only the broken girl in the bed remains.
So he goes to quietly sit beside her.
He opens his mouth only to close it again, a sigh escaping from slightly parting lips as he runs a hand through tufts of white nervously.
"Sorry." He mutters. "I've been kind of . . . busy."
There's a small rise and fall of her chest, but it's barely there. Even the light flame, the candle that was her reiatsu in his mind is dimmed, almost as if it were behind a gauze curtain with someone's breathe threatening to snuff it out.
"I was on a mission to the human world and I got kind of injured. It wasn't anything major though. You know Rukia, right? Abarai's friend—I had to go on the mission with her. It was weird, to be honest with you. Every time I saw her with Kurosaki, it was like she was a whole different person. She acted. . . I don't know how to say it. I just know it was different."
She would've probably chuckled. She would've shaken her head as if to say, 'oh, Shiro-chan.'
As if that would explain why and how, and the mechanics behind the nonsensical world of women.
He stopped for a moment, almost expecting her to open her eyes and explain.
But Momo didn't.
"She's rough around the edges, but at the same time she's exactly like her brother. It's. . . weird. I wonder what you would think of her. Would you get along with her? You're both so different—I doubt it. Her personality is too strong, I think."
Maybe she would shrug and look down at the hands in her lap, as if they could explain why she felt so dejected at the idea that Toushiro was calling her weak indirectly. Maybe she would tilt her head and ask him why, unfazed, claiming that he had no right to say that until she herself had a chance to meet her (everyone deserved a chance after all).
Or maybe she'd tell him that Abarai—no, Renji-kun—was still sort of hurt over whatever had happened between him and Rukia in the past, and that she didn't know if it would be okay with him for her to be talking to the petite Kuchiki.
Maybe.
"I didn't bring you anything this time. I know Matsumoto's been dropping by with sweets and things. . . I'm sure you have more than enough to keep you on a sugar high for years. And it seemed like a bad idea to bring you flowers- you could never keep anything green alive for longer than three days, so killing flowers to decorate your room seemed pretty stupid too. "
Her cheeks would inflate as she would puff them out with a huff, eyebrows drawn down over eyes that would send an undignified glare in his direction.
'I can SO keep a plant alive!'
And then he couldn't keep the slight lifting of his heart to better days as he asked the room, asked her with the ghost of a smirk, "name one then, Momo. Name one plant you've kept alive longer than a week."
But only the emptiness of the room responded and so the ghost of a grin disappeared, his shoulders becoming tense again. She was still in the bed and he was sitting suddenly awkward (stupid, stupid! People in comas don't talk to you!)and the realization that the world was still turning outside the door pulled the young captain from any further spell the room, the girl in the bed, held over him.
"Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone, bed-wetter Momo." And before he could twist back to see if she would answer, Toushiro turned and left with a wave over one shoulder.
It was to everyone's unspoken bewilderment how Ashido became Byakuya's unwavering shadow. Through the days that he had been there, no one had seen him in anyone's company save that of the Kuchiki siblings—a bitter disappointment for the women of the Shinigami Women's Association, most of whom were (after mourning their loss of one more bachelor) already seeing the potential matchmaking to be done between the redhead and the petite shinigami who conveniently had been too busy to show up to the last of their meetings.
It wasn't the first time Byakuya had come to the meetings—in fact, lately he had become a strangely common occurrence with Rukia's constantly changing schedule at the thirteenth. If the older of the siblings didn't know any better, he would swear Ukitake was up to something under the table—except for the fact that the older man had spent half of the time in bed and thus could not be the culprit for his sister's sudden necessity.
But that didn't stop Byakuya from keeping a sharper eye on his sister's division as of late.
"So how did you survive out there by yourself?" (Isane.)
"How did the Hollows not detect you?" (Nanao.)
"What type of Hollows were encountered?" (Nemu.)
"Could you show us your abs?"
Everyone turned to look at Matsumoto, who blinked before looking around.
"What?" She said, raising her hands as if in defense and waggling her brows suggestively, "You KNOW you want to see them."
"M-Matsumoto-fukutaichou! We were supposed to welcome him, not-"
"Oh, come on Nanao-chaaaan, just one little flash, I'm sure he won't-"
"I'm sorry you have to see this." Isane said from beside Byakuya, blushing brightly as she looked apologetically between both men and trying to tune out the argument between the now furious lieutenant of eighth and a shameless Rangiku.
Ashido stood at the head of the table, simply raising a brow as his gaze fell back to the two (still) arguing women.
"I forgot how . . . lively they could be."
Isane followed Byakuya's movements as he tried to stifle what he tried to pass off as a cough behind a fist.
"I believe lively is a nice way to put it when it comes to those two." Was her muttered reply.
Ashido turned to her and Isane could barely keep from blushing furiously at the direct flash of his gray eyes.
"I was just saying in general."
Well that certainly killed the moment.
". . . oh."
Needless to say, the meeting ended up going nowhere except the barging in of Yachiru with a bag of candy demanding to know what was going on and effectively settling the argument between Matsumoto and Ise in a stalemate. After that they realized the time and a flustered Nanao dismissed the meeting before sending one last scathing glare at Matsumoto, turning to Ashido with a curt bow and saying a swift apology "in the name of our club" for him having to "experience such unladylike behavior."
And then promptly shoving him out the door.
Well. . . . Rukia hadn't missed much, which was good.
The rest of the day passed without much incident, Renji unnerved by the silent man standing beside Byakuya's desk as he periodically came in to give and receive different workloads throughout the day. It wasn't until later in the afternoon, to his great surprise, that he finally saw the captain by himself in the small quarters.
There were little white squares scattered on the table in front of the stoic man who only seemed to want to bore a hole into the desk. Renji raised a brow, hesitated, but knew it was too late to leave when Byakuya looked up towards him in acknowledgement.
"Yes?"
Shaking off the strange feeling creeping up on him, Renji took three long strides to his captain's simple desk, lifting his arm at the same moment to bring the papers within it to the nobleman's attention.
Byakuya didn't like wasting time.
"The latest budget reports have been turned in. I just received the updated version."
The redhead's hand stood outstretched with the handful of paperwork for a moment and he couldn't help it when his eyes fell to the desktop. The little squares from before became distinguishable as pictures scattered across the surface—all of them with only a headshot of one person each and a name scrawled under it in hasty letters. It was easy for him to pick up on the fact that from the script style alone, the man before him had not been the one labeling them.
It wasn't until he felt the sharp tug on the stack (which he had totally forgotten was still in his grasp) did Renji finally look up, startled, into Byakuya's unyielding gaze. Knowing he had been caught, the lieutenant could think of nothing to say as he cleared his throat and relinquished his hold on the paperwork.
The silence then could be cut with a katana, but the muted reiatsu coming from the captain was ever composed.
"So, uh, where's Ashido?"
"Out on a task."
Shifting weight form foot to foot unconsciously, Renji scratched nervously at the back of his head.
"Oh."
Even then with strange photographs before him, Byakuya refused to give any information on what Renji was now aware of. With gray eyes alone he dared his vice captain to try satisfy the curiosity that made him swallow, made him want to just out and ask even though they both knew the Kuchiki man would give nothing but a demand for his departure.
"Anything else, Abarai?"
A demand he would receive whether he asked or not.
Grimacing, the redhead offered nothing else as his shoulders slumped slightly in disappointment.
"No, nothing else sir."
Bowing, Abarai Renji avoided his captain's gaze as he silently left the room.
To say he was on a rampage was an understatement.
It didn't take anyone very long to pick up on their captain's current temperament in the tenth division. In fact, several were drawing straws on who's turn it was to take the heat for a report written inaccurately that needed immediate attention (and correction, consequently) from the young man at present yelling at a new recruit for their inability to do some menial task without his help.
Funny really, how their lieutenant (who usually bore the brunt of the attack with all the apparent distress of a mountain towards a mouse) had decided that today was the one day she really didn't feel like coming in and had thus requested the day off.
Leaving the rest of her squad to deal with a very irate captain.
So when he finally chose to go out on a minor errand, they all collectively sighed in palpable relief.
He needed to find Ukitake to ask him some questions on a report written by one of his underlings. With that goal in mind, Toushiro found himself walking (stalking) through Sereitei to the thirteenth division barracks, sliding the main doors open and looking around as the secretary at the main desk looked up at him with a welcoming smile.
"Hi, how are you today sir? Is there anything I can do for you today?"
There was nothing distinctive on her. No jewelry, no makeup, just her hair up in a bun and the standard uniform. She was just another nameless soul in the system, and the white haired captain would be hard pressed if asked to describe her later to someone else.
His eyes roved over the empty halls, noting how eerily quiet it was in the building other than what he assumed was the rhythmic tapping of a foot against the base of a desk chair by the jumpy woman in front of him.
If that had been one of his people, he would've already yelled at her for the annoying behavior. As it was, all he could do was swallow down the sharp remark at the tip of his tongue and try to be as civil as possible.
"Is Ukitake here today?"
"He is, but he's out in another division taking care of some matters. Would you like to wait for him?"
"No, it's fine. Are his third seats here?"
Well, surely they could help him out a bit-once they got past their shouting match over who would help him.
"Yes sir, they're in the back training grounds. Should I get them for you?"
"No," Was the reply with a quick running of his hand through white hair, "I'll go see them myself."
He had walked through the area so many times (was in fact, one of the only other divisions he could navigate through confidently) seeing as Ukitake had always invited the younger man on walks. His steps were firm as he went down the well worn path, eyes roaming the landscape until he spotted a circle of thin foliage, trees scarce when compared to the large pit they encircled. It was then that he spotted the two third seats of the thirteenth division sitting near the edge of the pit, strangely relaxed and quite silent.
Unable to resist, he didn't bother to mask the noise he made as he walked into view, neither of the two making any indication they had seen him enter. Looking down at the pit, he noted a familiar petite woman ducking under a swing before parrying one of her two attackers.
"What are you doing?"
Kiyone didn't miss a beat.
"Watching Rukia-san."
She popped a chip in her mouth, the crunch loud as she chewed. Beside her Sentarou didn't even look up, reaching blindly for the chip bag in his companion's lap and taking one before popping it in his mouth and nodding.
Those chips were from the human world—contraband. Did the captain of the tenth division particularly care? No, not really. He had bigger fish to fry.
Hitsugaya looked down.
"Does she know you're here?"
The pit was enclosed in a reiatsu seal that would protect the surrounding area should any kidou or bankai go astray. It wasn't surprising to anyone when the victims of the pit would come out and have the living daylights scared out of them at finding they weren't alone.
In fact, it was so common it wasn't even considered a particularly bright practical joke anymore. At least not after Madarame once nearly decapitated a fellow shinigami who thought it would be funny to hide in the bushes.
Needless to say, there were many reports to fill after that.
"Nope."
The cool teal gaze of the tenth division captain followed as Rukia sidestepped a swipe and parried with a hasty kidou spell.
"How long she been down there?"
"Half an hour." Sentarou.
"She's training the new recruits." Air quotes from Kiyone around 'new recruits'.
A raised brow from Toushiro.
"What exactly do you mean by that?"
"Well sir," She threw a glare at Sentarou, who tried to grab the bag of chips from her hands and failed, "we figured giving Rukia some play time wouldn't hurt."
His eyes narrowed.
They didn't call him a prodigy for nothing.
There was something the two third seats weren't telling him and it was obvious in the way the darker haired of the two squirmed under his gaze, averting brown eyes to the pit below. Toushiro had to hand it to Kiyone though—if it wasn't for Sentarou's lack of ability at lying, he might've totally bought it.
But Sentarou had failed and so the white haired youth didn't.
"Alright, out with it. I want to know all of it." Crossing his arms, Hitsugaya planted his feet shoulder width apart and tried to make the most of his looming (short) presence beside the two seated officers.
He ignored the quick elbow jabbed into Sentarou's ribs by the tiny blonde woman.
Kiyone rose with a sigh.
"Would it be too much to ask of you, sir, that this be kept from our captain, as well as captain Kuchiki?"
Raising a brow, Toushiro hesitated for a moment, wondering what types of things could possibly be so bad as to be withheld from two captains (besides contraband chips). And besides, what could possibly involve Rukia that could be told to him? Why him? Did they consider him so far from the issue that it would matter little whether her knew or not?
Somehow that felt like an insult.
"As long as it doesn't breach any rules or regulations, doesn't interfere with anyone's duties, then you won't have any problems with me." Both third seats seemed to visibly deflate from the anticipation.
Kiyone's gaze drifted back down to the pit.
"We want Rukia to take the exam for vice captain."
The answer was immediate.
"She's nowhere near ready to be vice captain."
"She might not be yet," Kiyone countered, lavender gaze following her fellow shinigami's moves below, "but she has potential. We really would like to see her rise to a position worthy of her skills. Not to mention we're still hurting from losing so many people to the war that someone with her skill set would be great to have active right now."
"Trouble is, our captain's are against it." Sentarou piped in, picking at his teeth.
"Why don't either of you try for vice?"
The both of them had been third seats for as long as Toushiro could remember. Surely one of them could make it, no? Hell, maybe they would both make it and then be carted off to separate divisions.
"That's the problem. We already technically are. And let's face it-Rukia-san has a lot more experience when it comes to actual field missions-that's something we can't ignore. I-we-don't feel bad in saying this at all. If it's for the good of the division, then it's for everyone's good, no?"
Well. . . what the hell was he supposed to answer to that?
"And to be honest sir, it gets rather tiring doing two seats at once."
"Even if there are two of us—and I do more of the work." Was the remark with a resolute nod from behind Kiyone.
Before the captain of the tenth division knew it, the remark turned from just that to a full out brawl. Trying to ignore the rise of a coming headache, he tried to catch their attention again with what little patience he could muster.
"So you're training her without her knowing."
From the ground, Kiyone looked up and nodded, her leg wrapped around Sentarou's neck in a wrestling move that would put a professional to shame. The young man's face was quickly changing colors.
"If she knew, she would feel guilty about not telling Ukitake-taichou or Kuchiki-taichou because she promised them both she wouldn't ever try for a seated exam—well, her brother at least. But he has influence over Ukitake-taichou so basically we can't rely on him either."
Hisana.
An image of the woman on the roof rocking Rukia's limp body in her arms sent a shiver down his spine.
Looking back down, he heard more than saw when Kiyone finally released her partner, the latter giving a dramatic wheeze as he coughed.
Remaining nonplussed, the captain watched as the black haired young woman was slammed into one of the cliff walls by a nasty palm to the chest. But instead of crumpling to the ground like he had seen many trainees do, the captain was pleasantly surprised to note the fierceness that glittered from her eyes and gave her enough propulsion to condemn her opponent with a well placed kick to the lower abdomen. This was immediately followed by a thrust from her sword that left her as the winner of that single-opponent round.
A sigh from behind him.
"I told them not to use hand-to-hand. She already has plenty of experience with that."
"But switching between sword and fist is also one of her weak points, stupid."
"Don't call me stupid, stupid! You know Rukia-san needs more practice with her sword! Her sword!"
Watching her continue, Hitsugaya's frown grew.
"That isn't enough of a challenge for her. Even if you place both of them on her heels she can take them. You have to keep in mind that she's been around shinigami of high caliber for a while now, and she's survived a war by herself." It was then to their astonishment that the captain picked up one of the practice blades from the ground beside them, testing the weight in one hand. "You'll have to do better than that."
The eyes that followed him were as wide as saucers. Even as he broke through the seal and slowly walked up to the trio in the pit, he could feel the questions looming in the gaze held on his back.
"Hitsugaya-taichou!" The reaction of the three within was immediate. All three bowed, but only Rukia was smiling. The other two snuck glances from under a hooded gaze, mumbling their welcome at him and certainly in awe of the reputation that preceded him.
"You're slacking, Kuchiki. I don't see you putting up too much of a fight."
Taken aback by the statement, Rukia could do little but blink for a moment before bowing and offering an apology. "It is my duty to train them sir, nothing else."
No matter what way she said it, Hitsugaya knew he had inadvertently set her up to insult them, and for a moment he felt a twinge of guilt for it. Cerulean eyes caught the dark looks that landed on her back and he couldn't help the annoyance that crept into his gaze when it landed on them openly.
"Is there something you want to say?" He asked the taller of the two young men. Caught off guard the shinigami stuttered, shaking his head slightly before ducking his face to hide the furious burn.
The second though, was a little more prepared.
"Well sir, we just think it's unfair-"
"Your blade, Rukia." Whether she noted the slip or not went unnoticed on her features as she looked skeptically at the captain with narrowed violet eyes. Nonetheless, she wordlessly gave him the dulled blade.
"No kidou, no weapon. Protect yourself as you see fit under these restrictions against the both of them."
Her gaze slipped then from him to the two shinigami beside her as she nodded.
"Wakatta."
For a moment it seemed her two sparring partners were too frozen in shock to move, not giving their acknowledgement of understanding as easily as Rukia had. But then Toushiro blinked and they were off, the mouthy one from before taking the first initiative.
The first move was a direct jab towards her chest which Rukia dodged with ease, swiveling on her heel to face him with her body sideways. With his center of balance compromised, she pulled hard on his outstretched arms and sent him flying behind her. In the same movement she fluidly sidestepped out of the way of a wide backhanded swing meant to decapitate, ducking before mercilessly slamming an open palm into the gut of her second opponent's wide front.
By now the first man had recovered his steps and turned around, using sword techniques Toushiro hadn't seen since leaving the academy in a clumsy array of desperation to reach his small target.
Unfortunately for him, she was well aware of this and was using it completely to her advantage.
At first Toushiro thought she really could barely keep out of her opponent's sword reach (a fact that would make him lose immense respect for her), but on closer inspection it didn't' escape him how there was the slightest of smirks on pale, barely flushed features.
The petite shinigami was dancing at the edge of her oppnent's assault to mock him.
Can you catch me?
Slowly as he watched her spar from up close he caught a whiff of lavender in the resulting breeze from a dodged kidou spell, noted the way her thin fingers moved fluidly as if letting the energy dance through them. From here he could see the way her dainty lips moved with each exhaled breath, could follow the beginnings of a drop of sweat as it traced down the column of a long, slender neck to the line of-
A loud string of expletives was what alerted him back to the scene before him.
One down.
It didn't take too long for the second to follow, and Toushiro could say he was mildly impressed she didn't take any annoyance out on her retaliation like he thought she would.
Her breathing had barely quickened.
"Come here." The captain commanded, already making a list of pointers for her in his mind.
And she would've.
Neither of them expected it when one of the two on the ground rose and sent his katana soaring towards the back of the young woman. The anger fueled the movement in slow motion, driving it forward towards its unsuspecting target without hesitation as cerulean orbs followed it through the muddle of time.
Toushiro didn't think.
In that moment he could've counted every strand of hair that passed before violet eyes, could almost feel the breath that passed through her lips-maybe could even hear her heartbeat underneath the palpitation of his own when shunpo carried him past her.
And then time sped up again.
"Do it." He snarled, the blade caught between his fingers and nicking his skin. Dull it may be, but the force behind it would be more than enough to drive way past breaking skin.
If he hadn't stopped it. . .
"I dare you."
Fury sent adrenaline through his veins, the small pain of the cuts bleeding onto the training weapon not registering any pain in his mind.
"Hitsugaya-taichou," Came Rukia's puzzled voice from behind him, "what are you-"
"What the hell were you planning, huh? Did you seriously think you could get away with such a cheap shot at a fellow shinigami?"
He didn't tolerate people to begin with. But this? This was insane. To know that one could not even trust those that were supposed to watch their back was ridiculous, and to know such pompous asses were running their halls was something Toushiro Hitsugaya would not tolerate.
Not after Aizen.
Not after Gin.
Not after nearly losing his life to save the world this scum lived in.
The blade was jerked back as the lower ranked shinigami's dark gaze lowered to the captain. Hiding his mild surprise at the action, Toushiro stood firmly rooted between him and Rukia, unwavering even as the tall man stepped towards him, voice barely loud enough for Hitsugaya to hear.
"That thing behind you isn't a shinigami, sir—it's a street rat."
A whirlwind of dust and suddenly Rukia's sparring companion was slumping down from the impact of having been slammed into the pit wall yards away where there were spidering cracks from the collision. Violet eyes wide, the petite shinigami couldn't make out what the captain was saying but she didn't hesitate. When he raised the dull blade (which she was sure he could kill with even in this state) and she felt the familiar wave of complete frost in the air, Rukia used the shock that sent the hairs on her skin rising to propel herself forward and tackle the captain from behind, the yells of her fellow thirteenth division members informing her she was no longer alone.
"Get them out of here, NOW!"
Sentarou and kiyone didn't hesitate as they roughly grabbed the other two shinigami and carted them away, the blonde woman casting a worried glance over one shoulder at Rukia before urging her companion forward. Rukia watched them well until she couldn't make out their forms above the opposing lip of the pit and then finally lowered violet orbs to the familiar symbol of the tenth division splayed underneath her curling fingers.
The captain's breathing was ragged beneath her.
Swallowing hard, Rukia tried to keep her voice and gaze steady on the back of his head. She wasn't afraid of him; in fact, that was honestly the last thing on her mind. She knew this man. She knew Toushiro Hitsugaya.
But maybe that was the problem.
Maybe it was their shared element, maybe it was the fact that somehow she could just read him, but Rukia could feel the adrenaline coursing through her heart, pumping a fury in her veins she couldn't quite grasp in that moment.
He was furious, and she could feel it taking over her.
The threat of his temper loomed over them in the form of a thick blanket of cold that wrapped around her heart and began to pull at her own heartstrings. She couldn't understand how, but his feelings were forcing themselves on her through the furious tremble of his body underneath her fingertips, in the power that hummed in the air.
It was like trying to blot out the sun with a single finger and trying to shut out its warmth.
Biting her lip to try and keep her mind steady, the petite shinigami didn't shiver, didn't give an inch to his suffocating aura because somehow she knew that doing so could lead to consequences he might later regret and might put her in the fourth division for good.
The taste of coppery blood on her lip let her know she had broken skin. She swallowed some of it when she tried to secure her emotions over the scream of his.
"If I move, can I trust you to behave, Hitsugaya-san?" The lilt of her voice was barely above a whisper, but it was firm.
He didn't reply. Too taken aback by her use of his name, Toushiro could do little but swallow audibly and nod.
The cold receded a little, and the blanket of cold that had surrounded them suddenly seemed less thick—just. . . hazy. Almost as if it weren't too sure where to go.
The little weight that had been on his back was suddenly gone and he found himself hesitating for a second before rising slowly to his feet.
"I won't ask what's going through your head . . .sir." It was added as an afterthought, teal gaze following her in surprise as she looked away. "I have no right to know."
"You have every right to know."
The words slipped out of his mouth before he could filter them through his anger-muddled head and suddenly they were staring at each other point blank, frozen for a moment in bewilderment at their predicament.
Rukia raised a hand unconsciously to rub some warmth back into the arm wrapped around her torso.
"Sorry." Toushiro muttered gruffly, looking away as he willed his reiatsu to come back under his control.
"It was my fault."
He turned to her, confusion evident in his teal gaze.
"I got a little carried away with them, you came in to stop me."
"What the hell are you-"
"I don't know what you were doing, or how you got here, but thank you for coming to stop me sir, I'm sure I would've done a lot more damage if you hadn't-"
The look on her eyes was too sincere for Toushiro to take.
"Kuchiki!" His hand was firmed as he grabbed her shoulder and lightly shook her. "What the hell are you talking about? Did you not just-"
"Rukia, sir."
Violet eyes caught the annoyed twitch at the corner of his eye, but she didn't budge an inch on the matter. Instead she met his confused/flustered/annoyed glare with a calm stare of her own.
Too much—Byakuya was rubbing off on her too much.
She was about to speak again but they were interrupted by the voices above. Before he could think it over twice, his hand slipped down to wrap around her arm just shy of her elbow and he tugged her forward hard.
"Come on!" He hissed.
"Wait! Captain where are we-?"
The rest of her sentence was cut into a choked cry as she felt his hand tighten and suddenly they were moving. Rukia was almost sure her arm was going to be pulled out of its socket as he shunpoed with her in tow, barely able to keep up with him from the confusion that clumsied her steps and nearly sent her into a face-plant several times.
It wasn't until they were quite a bit away that Rukia could finally look up at the captain where she had hunched over to lean on her knees, trying to regain her breath.
"You do-" -A ragged breath-"realize, Hitsugaya-s-san-" A swallow that reminded her of the dryness in her mouth-"-that we left a nice biiiig trail of-reiatsu."
The lie slipped from his mouth faster than he thought it would and twice as smoothly.
"You were training, I came to ask for your help on something, and so we left."
Rukia 's eyes followed him as he slid down the wall and made himself comfortable. She didn't think twice before following his lead and hunching down beside him with a furrowed brow, a look of seriousness crossing her features that the captain almost believed as she tucked her elbows in between her chest and squatted legs.
"You, sir, are a very bad influence."
The look on his face was priceless in that moment, Rukia realized, and so she couldn't hold her serious exterior anymore and just laughed.
It was a real laugh, a sound that somehow tugged at his heartstrings and made the cloud above his head waver just the tiniest of bits.
But he wasn't about to show her that.
Annoyed and now embarrassed, Toushiro looked away with a frown.
"Cheh. This coming from the worst influence in all of Sereitei."
"I do believe that spot is reserved for your lieutenant, sir."
He seemed to contemplate the idea, finding it very hard to argue and just shrugging.
"Alright, I stand corrected. Second worse."
"No," she chided, shifting then and sighing, "that's your spot."
"I'm a captain." Crossing his arms, he puffed out his chest and smirked down his nose at her from the mere two inches he had over her own small stature on the floor. "I can do no wrong."
"Well," With the driest look she could muster, Rukia waved him off and turned to peek out around the corner of the building where he had dragged her. "I do believe it was your idea to run . . . sir."
Toushiro didn't miss her smirk.
She had the nerve, the audacity to call him out after he had defended her honor?
Well . . . . not that she knew that exactly.
"If I hadn't interrupted, you would be skewered right now, and I'm sure your seated officers wouldn't be too happy with the paperwork."
Rukia didn't miss a beat. "Or the hospital visits. Visiting one division member at the fourth is enough. Even though I must say that I am officially well known to all of the nurse staff there."
"By name?"
"Yes, by name."
"Very impressive." And Rukia tried not to grin at the nod of approval, or the way his brows raised as if he really had thought it so.
"I have my own room there too."
"And of course your brother had nothing to do with this."
"I will have you know sir, that I got those injuries all on my own."
"You sound rather proud."
Rukia seemed to contemplate this for a moment, wrinkling her nose as she titled her head slightly, and that made it really hard for Toushiro not to just want to run his fingertips over her soft-looking features.
"Yeah," She finally replied after a moment with a nod as if giving her thoughts satisfactory closure, "I think I actually am."
"Well, don't let me stomp on your parade."
"Oh, don't worry Hitsugaya-san, I won't."
"That's good."
"Now if you don't mind, sir, I think I would like to stop huddling in this corner and actually get off of my legs because they're kind of falling asleep."
"You have no tolerance, Kuchiki."
"I apologize, sir."
"Well, let's get going then."
"It was nice, uh, running with you, Hitsugaya-san." Both of them got up, Rukia glancing at him as she took to dusting her uniform off nonchalantly. Nodding politely to him, she turned to leave.
"Where do you think you're going? If we're going to lie, we have to make it-" Rukia stopped mid-step and swiveled to look at him over one shoulder.
Toushiro froze-
-Eyes innocently wide and blinking at him beneath long black lashes, back twisted in such a way that he could see the sensual curving of her back and the way her small hips jutted out just so-.
-And swallowed. Hard.
"Hitsugaya-san?"
She hadn't noticed when he had once again grabbed her arm, but now she was well aware of how he released her as if burned.
"I-I . . . have to go."
And without further explanation, he let go of her and was gone in the blink of an eye, leaving behind a very confused Rukia to walk back on her own.
He would have to admit to himself that Rukia had somehow lightened his mood in the short time he had spent with her. That in itself was an accomplishment worthy of his respect. But there was a problem now, and it came in the very form that of the woman that he was short of thanking for raising his spirits momentarily.
Can you catch me?
That same woman who had leaned into him in a taxi cab, who had fallen asleep against him in the dark. The one who had invited him to eat pancakes, who knew his favorite fruit, and even how he liked his tea.
It was honest, a pure sense of joy that appeared on her features as he turned on his heel to face her. Before he could utter a word, could even begin to muster up the anger he had felt just moments ago, all thoughts were derailed by her petite hands grabbing for one of his own and then turning him so that they went down the hall together.
The one who could wield her emotions just as confidently as her sword.
His elbows were propped up on the desk and Toushiro wasn't above taking his hands to just run them through white hair, using them to lean his head forward in thought. All the clutter that had been on his desk, the piles of paperwork that were ever present were all still there but had been pushed haphazardly to the edges in a makeshift (panicky) fort that he wished would shield him from the figure he saw approaching the desk.
"Taichou! Look at what I-!" The busty blonde took one look at the captain, at his desk, and immediately her tone changed, hand coming down from when she had raised it to show him her treasure.
"You okay, Hitsugaya-taichou?"
The dark glare that came from his barely raised head was more than enough of an answer to her raised brow.
"Headache." He muttered.
A sigh, and then Matsumoto headed to her desk, setting down the little envelope in her hand on top and rummaging through her things with all the astute silence of an elephant stampeding the room.
If he really had gotten a headache, he would've killed her by now.
"Here." She said, placing the small bottle of pain killers in front of him. "Take one and you should be fine."
No response.
Eyeing him strangely, Matsumoto shook her head and turned on a heel to head to her desk.
"You're never in here willingly on a day off. What did you forget?"
"I didn't forget anything." Was the simple reply as she picked up what she had set on her desk before. "I came to give you this."
Lifting it in view, Toushiro raised a brow as his lieutenant set the small square parcel in front of him, a strange smirk growing on her features.
"Who knows," She said, unable to hide the wicked grin, "It might make you feel a little better."
And without another word, she left him alone in the dark office.
Needless to say, curiosity was never one of HItsugaya's downfalls. So to say he was dying to know what was inside—well, that would be a lie.
And seeing as this was coming from the hands of a very impulsive source as Matsumoto, it was even harder to be curious. Anything she ever gave him involved something that ultimately would spell out bad news for him usually in some form of embarrassment.
Using a fingertip, he pushed the little envelope nearly to the front edge of his desk.
Sighing, he let his head fall with a loud thump to meet the flat top, groaning at how stupid he must've looked for having ditched Rukia earlier the way he did.
Toushiro really, really didn't want to think about it.
So with one last grunt, he lifted his head and eyed the envelope again. If only momentarily, it would offer a reprieve from his thoughts long enough for him to move onto something productive. So slamming a hand down on it, he dragged it back to lie in front of him.
Lifting it up, he placed it to the light trying to see what was inside. It looked harmless enough, seeing as there weren't any weirdly bulging shapes of any sort, and whatever was inside looked to be simply a piece of thickly folded paper. So deeming it safe to handle, Hitsugaya tore at the flap and took to pulling out the contents.
Good thing he didn't have a drink in his hand.
What he originally thought to be a thickly folded paper was actually pictures—seven of them.
And all of them shared one item of interest in all of them.
"Rukia." He said aloud, as if doing so would verify what his eyes were seeing.
In six of them she was looking away, probably unaware of the camera on her. There was one where she was smiling uncomfortably as Inoue spoke (probably about potential dishes for the future), another with a raised shoulder as she tried to look where Ishida was fixing the blouse, one more where she seemed deep in thought—wait a minute, wasn't that one of those strange dishes behind her on the table? One of those the redheaded human had made as a snack on the night. . . not that it was hard to discern what night it was, seeing as the outfit Rukia had on was impossible to forget.
But it wasn't until he got to the second to last picture that it made him hesitate for a moment.
It was the both of them.
He didn't know how, but Rangiku had managed to capture them conversing.
They were both sitting on the couch, Rukia cradling the control of the television in her hands as she listened with wide eyes to whatever he had said. It was an awkwardly placed shot, so it was obvious that it was something Matsumoto had gotten while walking quickly past them—but there was definitely something that he couldn't deny:
If anyone were to look at them, it was like looking at a couple having an intimate conversation.
She was leaning slightly towards him, he had an arm hooked over the edge of the couch behind her, and their gazes were locked in a way that seemed to shut out everything else.
If he remembered correctly, that had been in the half hour before their departure for the club—before Ashido, before the poison, before she could call him Hitsugaya-san and not feel like she was breaching etiquette.
Before he kissed her.
Damn it all to hell, he had kissed her.
And it wasn't necessarily the type of kiss he had, err, imagined.
It was quick, it was light, just barely there in the span of a single beat. There wasn't anything inappropriate that had gone on, no groping (dear gods above, the heart attack that would lead to on both parties!), no touching, not even the murmur of anything remotely romantic.
Did that even count?
No, surely that couldn't count.
A frown.
Contrary to his lieutenant's belief, he wasn't in any way remotely gay (as her incessant jokes threw blatantly in his face), and saying that he had the guts to kiss a girl and that it didn't count (this was no medical reason either)—it definitely hit on his pride.
It probably wasn't what a girl would consider a good kiss either.
Might as well hand him his pride as a man on a platter when said girl didn't seem affected at all by it either. She had done exactly what he had asked of her—had totally disregarded it as a desperate action.
So why couldn't he?
Looking down at the picture again, his gaze followed every curve of her body down to the hands cradling the remote on her lap. Were her fingertips soft? What would it be like to feel them skimming his face?
When he looked up and saw his own hand coming up to his cheek in wonder, he let it instead curl into a fist that came down on the desktop slowly. Why was he feeling like this? This wasn't anything like what had happened when he came to realize that he had feelings for Momo. It was a lot more. . . intimate somehow.
It was foreign.
That thought carried on with him through the rest of the day well until he saw his lieutenant walk in brightly at twelve the next morning (or afternoon depending on who was asking) and followed his form around his desk and towards the door with a stack of paperwork in hand.
Sliding the doors open, he hesitated at the doorway before looking back at Matsumoto with a nonchalant raise of his brow.
"By the way you suck at taking pictures." He deadpanned.
Her glare followed him out the door as she huffed, insulted but unhesitating as she slipped said pictures out of the envelope that had been on her desk upon entering to reassess her own handiwork. Propping her chin on one hand, she spread them slowly with the other until they were all in view and her brow furrowed in confusion for a moment.
Taking the envelope, she made sure it was empty, shaking it to double check that nothing had gotten stuck inside. After this had been achieved with no result, Matsumoto made a little noise of curiosity, eyes roving over her desk to make sure there had been nothing she had missed—which also came to a firmly negative conclusion.
The busty blonde counted the pictures before her again.
And when realization dawned on her, the frown of bewilderment turned into the widest, most face-splitting grin anyone would ever see on the face of the tenth's lieutenant—or anyone for that matter.
"I knew it!" She exclaimed triumphantly, laughing in such a maniacal manner that made an intern shinigami turn away at the door without a second thought. "I KNEW it!"
Looking down at the proof of success in the little experiment she had done, Matsumoto scooped up the glossy pieces and threw them in celebration as she fell back into her chair and swiveled in it happily.
Of course she'd have to pick them up before Hitsugaya came back to make sure he didn't know that she had seen the results.
But that wouldn't be a problem.
There was, after all, one less than what she had originally put on his desk.
