She wasn't like Renji. She couldn't compartmentalize like he could. She could distance herself, distract herself, but the shock had worn off by then. Every bit of rubble she turned over, she feared she would find Izuru, lifeless, that arm contorted in some freakish way. The dread made her nauseous.
She couldn't take anymore bodies. She couldn't distance herself in her worry. Izuru was alive when she thought he was dead, and he was gone because she scared him away. It was almost worse in that way because it was her fault and her fault alone, like the times she turned her sword against her brother and her friends for that man.
She needed to create, to breathe life into something. But even if there wasn't any shortage in charcoal, she was without her sketchpad.
Reconstruction wasn't art, but it was better than tally after tally after fucking tally. If she asked, she knew with almost absolute certainty that she could tug at Hirako-taichou's heartstrings and land herself in the west of the Seireitei for a couple of hours.
Her captain was in a tent with their new Head Captain and Kuchiki-taichou, bent over a map until she entered. Her captain looked so tired. He didn't walk over her and wrap her in a one-armed hug and he didn't jostle her with a friendly, confident grin. He didn't even smile at her, like the bags under his eyes were too heavy for his cheeks to lift. She hated to see someone who had so quickly one a spot in her heart so exhausted.
"If you have a moment, could you reassign me to the west end of the Seireitei? Please? I need a break from all the bodies. Just for this shift…." She pleaded under her breath.
She wasn't met with an immediate yes or no. Hirako-taichou merely looked to Kyouraku-soutaichou, who then looked at a roster.
"I think we can afford an extra man there." The head captain said.
"We can't. We need to clean up all of this, account for as many bodies, and then track down and incarcerate any deserters." Kuchiki-taichou responded.
"We're spread a little thin, but when aren't we? It'll help us take down some of those tents sooner rather than later at least. It couldn't hurt to switch the poor thing for just one shift, Kuchiki." Kyouraku-soutaichou said. His calm amazed her- she always wanted to clock Kuchiki-taichou ever since his cold dismissal of Renji's life not even two years ago.
Kuchiki-taichou's lips tightened into a line. It, at least, seemed he wasn't hot about the tents either.
"Meet up with Iba-fukutaichou, Hinamori-fukutaichou. He'll delegate you where you're needed." Hirako-taichou said.
She bowed graciously to them and made herself scarce. She had already thrown a wrench into their carefully balanced schedule, she couldn't make herself a nuisance on top of it.
Iba-fukutaichou had always been among her favorite lieutenants- outside of Renji, Shuuhei, and Izuru of course. He had always been more noble than any of the aristocracy, and down to earth and so very sweet. She wasn't close to him, they had only spoken before lieutenant meetings, but he was good in her book. Not many were anymore. Especially not men.
The west of the Seireitei was different from the rest. The air was much fainter of burnt fat and decay and the walkways were clear if not just slightly crumbled where they hadn't been repaved. It was a totally different atmosphere on top of it. It felt like she had finally bobbed above the dirty water for a breath of fresh air.
Yes. It wasn't art, but it was an escape from all her anxiety, that awfulness in the rest of the Seireitei.
Iba-fukutaichou was among his men as they pieced together platforms with smooth slats. He straightened as she approached.
"I was told you could give me something to work on here." She said. "I would appreciate anything. Really, just put me somewhere. Please."
"Happy to have you, Hinamori. Just join the rest of us. If you need any help, just shout." Iba-fukutaichou replied.
"Thank you." She would've asked where Shuuhei and Renji were and if he knew where her dear Izuru had run off to, but she figured they would only be a distraction. Distractions- Izuru- made her sad and they couldn't afford that then. It was like Renji said- one step at a time.
She would ignore how it felt like she abandoned her dearly beloved and thank whatever higher power had taken the Soul King's place that flooring was busy work. It didn't require quite the amount of attention as her art or reading, but it was nice to busy up her hands with something more visibly productive than tolling bodies. The hours passed just as quickly either way.
Shuuhei described her as beat when he and Renji came to fetch her. He must've meant she didn't look much different than she normally did because sleep eluded her. The noise did not, on the other hand. It was difficult to not listen in on the conversations around her, bored out of her mind and worried out of her hyde. It was still mostly who was still missing, grief over the deceased, cynicism in hushed voices.
She was a terrible leader. If she couldn't hold herself together, how could her men? They were the gears of the Soul Society. Their leaders were merely the lubricant that kept those gears cool. Without them, the gears would surely be ground away or pop off their spindles.
If she didn't listen in, she probed for Izuru. Normally, she could pinpoint any of her loved ones' reiatsu at any time with little trouble. Izuru's was unusually faint, however. Like he really was gone. But she knew otherwise. Half the Seireitei knew about that scene at the tents, and her brother was there too so it couldn't have been a hallucination. Izuru sulked somewhere, because she was a terrible excuse of a human being and an even worse lover.
There was a sudden change in the cadence and the speed of the murmurs around, and the sudden silence as she picked up on a pinprick of Izuru's reiatsu. It felt so distant, but she heard his footfalls. Each was like a kick to her gut. It brought tears to her eyes- relieved and terrified. She wished his reiatsu was strong enough to tell how he felt- if he hated her, if he needed her.
Or perhaps it was just a hallucination. Perhaps she had finally been driven undeniably and irreparably mad. Or maybe the entire thing was just a long nightmare, and she would finally wake sandwiched between her boys and they would kiss her at breakfast as she told them about the most horrible dream she had ever had.
She stayed silent. If he wanted her, if he was even real, she figured he would speak. Aizen's voice never accompanied his phantom presence. The memories of his words, but never his voice.
"... you hold yourself when you're asleep." Izuru rasped finally. He sounded winded.
Tears welled in her eyes as she laid sight on him. He was paler, more ragged, with a blanket tied around his shoulders.
"You're here." She sighed.
He nodded solemnly. Izuru normally wasn't one to smile in the first place, but those blue eyes were so emotive. Those same eyes were dull and they were lifeless then, like he belonged on a metal slab and knew it. Her teary stare was no different from the others he must receive.
"Do you not want me to be?" He asked plainly, as if bored.
"I always want your company, you know that."
"You wanted Izuru Kira's company. He is dead. I am but a humble war machine in his shape."
"Don't you say that." She quivered. "Don't you say anything like that again. You are my beloved Izuru. We've all been turned into war machines. But it's over now and we're going to rebuild our home and our lives, and we want you in that."
"The man you loved is dead." Izuru iterated. "He is only a small percentage of my reiatsu. The rest is reiatsu from fallen soldiers mashed into me so I can operate."
"So?" She sniffed. "You look like my Izuru. You talk like my Izuru. I can still feel my Izuru's presence. If it walks like a duck, quacks like a duck, then it's probably a duck."
"You're still as deluded as when Aizen fucked you."
She flew upright. Her knuckles stung after they connected with his cheek. "How dare you bring that monster up."
"The man you share all those happy memories with is gone. He died, and he let all of his men die too. Every single one of them."
"We lost a lot of good men against the Quincies. It's not your fault."
"Like Aizen was coerced by Gin?"
Her knuckles stung as she backhanded Izuru again. His expression didn't change as he stared down the row.
"Have you come to be cruel to me?!" She barked as embarrassed tears streamed down her face. She didn't turn to Renji or Shuuhei when they startled awake. "Izuru has always been like that. You've been so sarcastic and mean since Ichimaru died. You're damn right I was loyal to Aizen, and I'm loyal to you now. Did you really think we would cut you out of our lives just because you're having a tantrum!? You underestimate my tolerance!"
"You're morbid to love a dead man." Izuru growled
She slapped him again. "Enough of that! I don't want to hear anything like that come out of your mouth again."
Izuru stared off to the side, past the audience they had garnered. He got that thousand-yard stare when he was sad, when he truly debated death. She knew it well. How could he claim to not be Izuru when he was still so much like him?
"And what will you do if I refuse?"
She burst into humorless, bitter laughter. "You expect me to discard you? I couldn't leave that monster when he raped me nightly, I wouldn't have left him after he stabbed me! What the fuck makes you think you can make me leave you?"
"... I ought to go."
"No, you're staying. I'll make you. Renji and Shuuhei will hold you down, and we'll call Kuchiki-taichou in to hold you somewhere."
He finally looked at her. "You'll make me stay? Like you made Aizen stay?"
She slapped him once more and wailed. She couldn't see his gaze through all of her tears, but she could feel it like a drill.
"You and I are taking a walk." Renji plucked Izuru off the bunk and dragged him out. She couldn't bring herself to look anyone in the eye as she walked in the opposite direction.
She knew the pain would fade, she thought as Shuuhei laid her head against his chest. She knew they would come together again just like they did after those men exited their lives, she knew her kisses would ease his pain, but Izuru was stubborn and she hurt too much to look at him.
Perhaps she was a fool, she thought, to let Izuru get away with a mere lecture from Renji. Perhaps she hadn't changed since Aizen. Perhaps she was morbid and sad and needy, but he never seemed to mind it in the past.