Author's Notes: Well, this story keeps getting longer and longer. Or at least this chapter of it did. So I decided to cut it in half, which I guess will now make the whole story six chapters instead of five. Though at this rate the monster will just keep on growing. Either way, the first half of the next chapter is already done, so hopefully I'll get it up soon. In the meantime, here's part three, which doesn't get through as much stuff as I'd intended, but at least is not 300 pages long.

I also want to give some thanks to Yakaji, for good timeline discussion; and to selfavoidingwalk, for good omake discussion and a Hitsugaya fix; and to Kellen, whose well-captured Hitsugaya dialogue gave me something to chuckle over when I was re-reading fics to get me in a good mood. They're all writing really awesome stories, and reading good fic is as much of an inspiration as reading the manga itself.

And since I realized I haven't given a disclaimer yet, I'll just say that I don't own Bleach. Obviously. If I did, we'd know all about Hitsugaya's history already, making this fic unnecessary, and thus restoring to me a bit of my sanity.

FROZEN SKY

Part Three: A Path Through Snow

Not since his time at the academy, wondering how Shiba Kaien had weathered his school days under the weight of a "genius" title, had Hitsugaya wished so fervently for someone to talk to as he did in the days immediately following his exchange with Komamura. Not just someone to talk to, but someone of whom he could ask questions, and get honest answers.

There was no point going to the archives, for he had long ago read every scroll written on bankai release, and he did not want to risk being spotted now with those scrolls in hand. That would only engender rumors, and the last thing he wanted was to let his deepening interest in bankai be known; the murmurs behind his back would become intolerable should that happen. He could think of no one who would both be able to answer his questions and be willing not to make a fuss about it.

He did not even consider going to Hinamori. He could imagine her expression too clearly. Widened eyes. A small, helpless flutter of her hand.

"Aah, Hitsugaya-kun, you don't mean that you're going to try training for bankai, do you? But… but it's far too soon, don't you think? After all, most Captains train for decades and decades, and that's after serving as Vice Captains and…"

No, he couldn't go to Hinamori. Her predictable reaction aside, going to her would also feel a bit too much like… seeking comfort.

And that made him angry. With himself, for wishing it. With her, for inspiring the desire in him. Both were to be avoided, and so Hinamori was to be avoided altogether. On this issue at least.

Not that avoiding her would be a problem, of course. He hadn't seen her in months, not since she had become Aizen's Vice Captain.

But once Hinamori was eliminated from his list of options, it became painfully clear, in a way that he had not before bothered to closely examine, that he had no one else to talk to about personal matters.

Only Hyourimaru, and in this case, Hyourinmaru was not going to be a help.

He almost considered going to Komamura. He suspected that his Captain would answer any questions he might have, but asking them of Komamura would be tantamount to making a commitment, and he wasn't sure he was ready to do that just yet.

Insecurity was a new feeling for him. He didn't like it. Nor could he seem to shake it.

Sitting one night in the doorway to his room, looking out over the garden as he had the last time Hinamori had visited, he tried to sort out his reluctance. Analyzing his feelings was not something he often did, and he enjoyed it no more than he liked acknowledging his doubts, but it was preferable to letting himself be paralyzed by indecision.

He didn't doubt his ability to achieve bankai. True, it was not something he had dreamed of attempting so soon, but the moment Komamura had planted the idea in his mind he had known with absolute certainty that it was a goal within his grasp. He also had no illusions about the difficulty of the task. It would not be easy. But that made trying it all the more appealing. The thought of taking on a true challenge nearly made his palms tingle with eagerness to feel the crossing ridges of the cords wrapped around Hyourinmaru's grip against his skin, absorbing the sweat of true training.

So why was he hesitating?

Partly, he admitted to himself that night, as the hours dragged on and the moon spun over the garden and Hyourinmaru remained silent, he hesitated because of what came after. Achieving bankai was the goal of those who wished to become Captains, or at least to earn the renown of one, and that had never been his goal. True, it had crossed his mind, but not as a matter of desire, and certainly not something to be thought of so soon.

And if not that, then what?

He refused to believe that the only reason he had come to the Seireitei was to be part of Hinamori's world. He did not like to think what that would make of him. He might never be sure of his motivations, but surely that couldn't be all. He knew, without a doubt now, that this was where he belonged. But what would achieving bankai mean to Hinamori? To his relationship with her?

As the hour neared dawn, and this thought turned over and over in his mind, he finally let out a curt sound of frustration and leaned his head back against the screen's frame, his fists clenched tight under his arms.

This was his decision. What Himamori might think of it didn't matter. What Hinamori might think of him after the deed was done couldn't matter. If he couldn't make this decision without worrying about a childhood friend who no longer worried about him in the same way, if he couldn't make this decision alone, based on his own strength and his own ambitions, then he didn't deserve Hyourinmaru's bankai.

"Hyourinmaru," he murmured into the cool air. "What will you show me if I try this?"

Hyourinmaru did not answer.

But instead of deterring him, the dragon's silence suddenly sharpened his desire to see what form the frozen spirit of his zanpakutou would take when its full power was exposed.

When he finally went to sleep that night, he dreamed of a thousand stars made of ice, like white flowers unfurling their petals over the dark ink of an endless sea, and he woke knowing the decision had been made.

Seated officer meetings in the 7th seemed even duller than usual for the first few month's after Akita Sachio's promotion to 6th Division's Vice Captainship. Akita had always been the liveliest presence in the room, and though this had sometimes grated on Hitsugaya's nerves, he couldn't deny that the change took some getting used to.

At least Jiroubou no longer used meetings as an opportunity to hear himself pontificate, and Hitsugaya was grimly satisfied to think that the man's silence was partly his doing. Even though all of the officers had been promoted by one seat after Akita's departure, and this meant that Jiroubou was now occupying Hitsugaya's former fifth seat in addition to still sharing the same office space, Hitsugaya had managed to keep his interaction with the man to a tolerable minimum.

But he could have wished that Komamura were a little less fair and even-handed in his approach to promotions within the division, because he would have much preferred to see Etsuko Aru or Kentaro Yumiko jump a few seats into his workroom.

And it was that thought, as he flexed his fingers around his ink brush and tried to both ignore and subconsciously catalogue every word of Watari's numbing report on the training progress of the top squads, which brought to mind a possible solution to his problem. He had questions, and there was one person, he suddenly realized, that he wouldn't mind asking.

When the meeting ended and Komamura had departed, he gathered up his papers with unusual haste and slipped out the door before anyone else. He vaulted lightly over a walkway railing and cut across two courtyards and around several buildings in a quick route that he knew would land him directly in Yumiko's path as she headed to her own office. She always went there after meetings, just as he went to his own, and he knew that they were the only two officers to do so. Today would have to be an exception to their routine.

He used this as an opportunity to test his ability to mute his reiatsu. Unohana's comments on how tightly he kept his reiatsu in check while in the presence of others had surprised him; he thought he had been doing so good a job of it that no one would have noticed he was doing it.

Why he was doing it was not something he wanted to think of now, on top of everything else, and so he decided that this was merely something else he would need to add to the list of skills needing refinement through training.

Captains, after all, needed to keep their reiatsu under control at all times.

When Yumiko walked right past him without a hitch in her stride he wasn't sure whether to be satisfied with his own performance, or to criticize the dullness of her senses. But starting this conversation off with a criticism probably wasn't the best choice.

"Kentaro."

She spun about with a muttered curse of surprise, her hand moving automatically to a sword that wasn't there. Even a ninth seat officer had to heed the restrictions placed on the powerful and forego the wearing of swords in the Seireitei unless in training or on combat duty.

"Hitsugaya?" she said, narrow face made even sharper by the frown of bewilderment she wore as she watched him step out of the shadows and onto the floorboads of the walkway. "What are you… I mean… can I help you with something?"

"Yes. I need to speak with you privately."

"Privately? Is there a problem?"

"No. I just… " he struggled not to grit his teeth around the uncomfortable words, "… was hoping you mght help me with a… question."

He thought, for a brief second, that he saw her struggle with the flicker of a smile. But that, he told himself firmly, would have been wildly out of character for the normally stoic Yumiko, and since it was too late to back out of this now, he would much rather believe that he wasn't going to regret the whole affair.

"Of course, Hitsugaya-san. We could go to my office."

"No." He didn't want to risk someone overhearing them through the screens. He remembered the isolated sakura tree Watari had chosen for their conversation about Akita's promotion, and thought it could serve for privacy again. "We'll walk. Follow me."

A few people were enjoying the garden, but the man and woman standing close together under the sakura tree quickly split off in different directions when they saw their officers approaching. There were no rules prohibiting romantic relationships between members of the same division, but it was not something that a smart person would flaunt in the presence of their superiors, and Hitsugaya was glad that he had already developed enough of a reputation to scatter trysts on approach. It was so much easier than having to deal with them otherwise.

It did not even occur to him until later that his own atypical meeting with Yumiko under a blooming sakura tree in full view of everyone in the garden might paint the wrong image altogether. For the moment, all he cared about was that no one overheard them, and of that at least he was satisfied.

"Kentaro," he began, frowning off in the general direction of the garden's small pond and the water flowers drifting along its surface. "Do you remember our advanced lectures on zanpakutou technique?"

"Yes, of course," she said, shuffling her papers to keep them from the breeze's grasp, and eyeing him curiously. "But I can't imagine that I remember them any better than you. Your memory was always infallible."

He let the compliment pass unremarked. Statements of fact weren't worth commenting on, and he didn't like flattery.

"One of the documents sensei mentioned wasn't in the archive for study," he said. "He alluded to a history of the last four centuries' Captains, but I couldn't find it for reading. You're a member of a noble house, aren't you?"

"Only a minor one."

"More than me," he said with a shrug. "That sounds like the sort of history the noble houses would be familiar with."

"Well…" She frowned, still struggling with her papers. Fidgeting, really. Very unlike her. "I can't say I've ever read the historical record in question, but everyone hears stories and rumors and such. Was there something specific you wanted to know?"

He drew in a deep breath, his jaw tight, then finally nodded. "Yes. I want to know which Captain achieved bankai the fastest."

"Ban… kai?"

He shot her a quick, narrow glance, trying not to feel riled by her tone. She was staring at him now with widened eyes, and there was no doubt that she was leaping to hasty – and unfortuantely accurate – conclusions. The breeze snatched a paper out of fingers loosened by surprise, and she cursed, startled out of her shock, and reached hopelessly for it.

Hitsugaya snatched it out of the air with one quick movement before it could sail past him. "Oi," he growled as he thrust it back toward her, "be careful. Replicating reports is a pain."

"I'm sorry. Thank you. I was just… I'm sorry, but what did you want to know about bankai?"

"I want," he repeated slowly through clenched teeth, "to know which Captain achieved bankai the fastest."

"Well… I… I'm not sure."

He sighed. He'd expected better of Yumiko, really.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, and she straightened to her full and considerable height, as though towering over him could restore her dignity. He was willing to cede her the comfort this one time if it meant she'd give him the information he wanted.

"It isn't the sort of thing Captains let become common knowledge," she said more firmly. "Ten years is the standard, but some take more, and of course it's said it takes decades to fully master bankai's use."

"I know that," he said. "I know what's commonly said. I want to know what is uncommonly said."

"Well that's not a very specific request. There are only rumors – "

"What are the rumors?"

He had only been in the Seireitei for a few years, and he knew that others forgot this fact easily, despite his status as a prodigy. He hadn't had time away from his work to gather rumors. Or anyone, really, to gather them from.

"They say that Zaraki-taichou hasn't even mastered bankai, for one."

"That I know."

"And they say that Kuchiki-taichou mastered his bankai long before he even became a Captain."

That was new to him, and it made Hitsugaya frown thoughtfully. It opened new possibilities, certainly. If he could pursue bankai for the thrill and accomplishment of it, just for the sake of bringing himself closer to Hyourinmaru's true power, and not have to worry about the side-effects of the pursuit…

"But if it's a rumor about who mastered bankai the fastest… I remember my uncles talking in whispers when I was a child about Urahara Kisuke…"

"Urahara Kisuke?" he asked sharply, his attention fully caught. He remembered the name from his studies as belonging to a former Captain of 12th Division, the founder of the Technological Development Bureau, but he hadn't heard much else about the man. His name had never once been brought up in class by teachers at the academy, and only the barest mentions in passing appeared in the archives available to students.

"Yes, he was the former – "

"Captain of the 12th, I know. What about his bankai?"

"Well, it was a long time ago, so I don't remember for certain, but from what I recall they were saying something about his achieving bankai in a matter of mere days."

"Days? That's… not possible."

"I know. So I must be remembering it wrong. But that's all I can think of." She fell silent, watching him pensively, and when he only continued to frown in thought she gripped her papers more tightly and said, "Hitsugaya… why do you…"

"Yumiko," he cut her off, and his use of her first name made her fall immediately silent in surprise, as he'd intended. "Dealing with rumors is frustrating enough as it is. I would appreciate it if you wouldn't let more baseless gossip spread just because I'm curious about the history of Gotei 13 captains."

Her thin lips pressed so tight that they almost vanished altogether, and for a moment he felt sorry for reminding her of the part she had previously played in starting rumors about him.

"I understand," she said, and bowed. "Is that all you needed of me, Hitsugaya-san?"

"Yes."

She bowed again and stepped out from under the sakura tree's shade, her back straight and her footsteps steady on her way back to the compound buildings.

Hitsugaya sighed again, and called out, "Kentaro, wait."

She turned, raising a hand to push her severe braid of hair behind her shoulder. "Yes, Hitsugaya-san?"

"Thank you for your help. You were… the only person I could think of to… ask."

For a moment he thought his reluctant words wouldn't be enough, and he really didn't want to have to make another attempt, so he was relieved when she smiled faintly and bowed again, this time more fluidly, accepting the apology he hadn't quite spoken.

"You are welcome. I look forward to seeing where your curiosity about history leads."

"Mn," was his eloquent and uncomfortable reply.

The conversation hadn't yielded quite the results he'd been hoping for, but it gave him something better in the end. He went through the rest of the day lost in thought, already anticipating what future research would uncover, and it was a good thing for Etsuko Aru, who foolishly stopped by the fourth seat's office that evening to peer in with a grin and say, "So Hitsugaya… you haven't grown a bit in the last month, have you, because I heard a very interesting rumor about you and Kentaro and sakura blossoms earlier today," that Hitsugaya was preoccupied enough to reward the comment with nothing more than an icy glare.

Etsuko quickly put up his hands and backed out of the doorway, but the bastard was still smiling as he went.

He had almost forgotten how it felt to have someone against whose legacy he might be measured, and the galvanizing effect it had on his resolve to improve his skills. Shiba Kaien had been that force for him at the academy, and now he had another name.

Seated officers had access to nearly every archive in the Seireitei, but even in these otherwise restricted sections it was difficult to find records of Urahara Kisuke. What he was able to find, however, painted a clear enough image to motivate him. Few documents said it outright, but reading between the lines it was obvious that Urahara Kisuke had been considered a true genius. Most documents spoke of his founding of the Research and Technology department, and of his accomplishments within it. But buried amidst accounts of his myriad of inventions now considered indispensible to Shinigami in the field, were the occasional references to his undisputed skill as a warrior.

No word, however, of his bankai.

Hitsugaya searched for a long time, but in the end his inability to learn anything concrete about Urahara Kisuke's bankai – or the time in which he achieved it – didn't really matter. He made the choice to believe that Yumiko's rumor was grounded at least partially in truth, because the idea of someone having come before him with such a reputation for genius was… comforting. Some might have seen it as a challenge, but Htisugaya couldn't help thinking it more of a relief. If he were to achieve bankai now, what could they say to him, really? How could they accuse him of moving too swiftly, with a record of three days as a precedent?

He had no interest in besting that record. But he was perfectly willing to set a lesser record of his own.

After a week's worth of research into the history of Urahara Kisuke and of bankai training in general – sparse though the written records of both proved to be – Hitsugaya felt ready at last to broach the issue openly with Hyourinmaru. His zanpakutou had not spoken with him since the battle with the Hollow, and had only recently begun to make its presence felt in its wielder's mind again.

When Hitsugaya took advantage of his weekly free day for training to leave the Seireitei in search of the most isolated patch of wilderness he could find, Hyourinmaru could sense the change in his mood, and the cold of the sword's slow awakening was sharp in the air.

Standing alone in a large clearing surrounded by dense trees, Hitsugaya shrugged out of his makeshift harness, drew his sword, and tossed the saya aside altogether. Both hands on the grip, he held the sword up, edge away from him, catching the barest reflection of his hair like a flash of snow in the narrow angles of the blade's spine.

"Hyourinmaru."

The sword seemed to tremble faintly in response, and an icy blue glow limned its edges.

"Will you walk this path with me?"

The glow intensified, and the temperature in the clearing dropped so quickly and so drastically that even he, immune as he usually was to cold, could feel it keenly.

"Will you give me this chance?"

The dragon uncoiled in his chest at last, and the familiar voice echoed in his mind.

Do you know the full meaning of what you are asking?

With anyone else, even with Hinamori – and perhaps especially with Hinamori, he realized, with a touch of sadness he did not have the time or inclination to further examine – he would have shrugged off the question with calm, confident assurance.

But he could not lie to Hyourinmaru.

"Maybe not. I'll need you to teach me."

What you ask cannot be taught. What you ask can only be earned.

"I'll earn it."

The dragon laughed its rare, hissing laugh, and Hitsugaya was relieved to hear it again after so many days of silence between them.

Confidence is the first step. But for you, there will be others.

"And for you?"

I have already made my choice. You are my choice. When you understand why I have chosen you, then you will understand what I can give you.

He nodded, as much in acknowledgement of what he didn't yet understand as of the dragon's words.

Together, we can cover this forest in ice.

He nodded again, and, with no one around to see, allowed himself a grin.

But not until you can put out your hand and touch my body made flesh will you be able to reach for bankai, and this you must be able to do alone. When I can meet you eye to eye, we may truly begin.

"Then let's get started."

A sudden blast of cold power from the sword in his hands pushed his hair back like a storm wind, and lightning skittered around the clearing, cracking leaves in an acrid green haze.

As you wish.

He had thought he understood the strength of his zanpakutou.

It did not take him long to unlearn that arrogant assumption.

He'd feared that finding the time to train for bankai would be the hardest thing to manage, but at least in the first few months it was the furthest worry from his mind. Once a week was all he could handle without revealing what he was doing to everyone in the division by showing up to each meeting and mission looking like he'd just been sat on by Jidanbou.

He was exhausted after each training day, but that he could hide. Not as easy to hide were the injuries. Small though a cut or bruise might be, it was the first time he had ever taken consistent injury, in training or in battle, and the people around him noticed every scratch.

"Hitsugaya," Watari said to him one day, at their meeting with Vice Captain Imada, "what have you been up to lately? I've never seen you injured before."

"Training exercises," he said blandly. "What else would I be up to?"

"Eh?" Imada raised his eyebrows, pausing in the veritable demolition of his inkstick. Talented though he was at combat, his writing skills left something to be desired. "It must be some sort of training to injure you. Have you been forgetting to include Hollow sightings in your reports, Hitsugaya-kun?"

"Of course I haven't," he growled. "Since when does a man have to share the details of his personal training with others?"

"No offense meant, Hitsugaya-san, I assure you," Watari said quickly, raising his hands. "I was just surprised to see you injured, that's all."

"It's nothing. No need to concern yourself."

"Well, perhaps Watari shouldn't," Imada went on, giving up on the inkstick and moving on to disorganzing all of the paperwork Hitsugaya had just placed on his desk in neat piles. "But as your Vice Captain, it is my duty to concern myself. If you're not careful, I'll have to order you to report to Unohana-taichou again."

"I'm fine. More importantly, don't we have other things to be discussing at this meeting?"

As the months went on, the surface injuries became less noticeable. He had traded them in for a deeper weariness, but also a sense of progress. He had not yet managed to force Hyourinmaru to fully manifest, but that did not bother him. He was learning more about his zanpakutou by pushing himself toward bankai than he had in all three years since he'd first held the sword in his hands. Bankai itself was no longer the goal that drove him, but merely the means by which he could discover the truth of Hyourinmaru.

He knew that the most powerful zanpakutou often revealed a variety of unique techniques to their wielders. Having achieved shikai, many Shinigami could execute several named attacks shaped by the individual abilities of their swords, and the material he had managed to find in the archives suggested that this might be true of bankai level power as well.

He had never worried that Hyourinmaru had taught him no such attacks, because no battle he had ever faced had required more than shikai to ensure victory. Learning to completely master the power of his shikai alone had taken up all of his time and effort, and even now, as he tried to reach beyond that, he knew that he still had not fully mastered Hyourinmaru's first stage of release. Indeed, much of his training now, though materialization was always in his mind, still involved working with Hyourinmaru's shikai, getting to know every facet and quirk, learning how to bring out all of its power and potential.

He had to move training location often. The clearings simply didn't last.

It wasn't until six months after he began that Hinamori saw him on a morning after his training day. In all those months he had seen her only twice, always in passing, and this time was no exception. He was on his way back from 4th Division's compound, after requesting a few healing supplies that he could stash secretly in his bedroom, when he heard her calling his name.

"Hitsugaya-kun! Hitsugaya-kun!"

There was no mistaking Hinamori's voice. He thought he would recognize it even in sleep, even unconscious. After all, there had been a time – though it felt like so long ago now – when she had woken him from sleep using just that tone of voice, to tell him that she'd had a nightmare that he'd been attacked by monsters and that she had to come all the way from the girls' room just to make sure he was all right. He'd recognized her voice then instantly, even in his dreams.

Unfortunately, this time she had not crept over alone in the privacy of the night, but was dashing across a wide open street, with Vice Captain Ise trailing behind her.

"Did you just come from 4th Division, Hitsugaya-kun? You aren't sick, are you?"

"No, of course not. Hinamori! Do you have to run and shout like that?"

"Only when I'm worried!" she insisted loudly, then leaned forward to peer intently into his face. "Eh, Hitsugaya-kun, you don't look well. You are sick, aren't you?"

"No! Hinamori, you…" he broke off as Ise Nanao caught up with them, and he gave her a brief nod. "Ise-fukutaichou."

"Hitsugaya-san," she said calmly. "It has been a few years now. I hear you are doing well." She looked exactly the same as she had on the night of his final student exercise.

"Ah no, look at him!" Hinamori insisted, putting her hands on her slender hips. "He doesn't look like he's doing well at all!"

"Like you should be one to talk, Hinamori," he said through gritted teeth, trying to keep his cool. "You looked pretty terrible when you were training too – "

"Eh, training?" she said quickly.

He shut up, shooting her a frustrated glare. She could always get him to say the stupidest things.

Ise surveyed them both with inscrutable calm, and said nothing.

"Just what are you training so hard for, then?" Hinamori persisted, and this time when she leaned toward him she smiled. "Don't tell me this means you want to be a Vice Captain like me, Hitsugaya-kun."

"No," he said, with the cool conviction of honesty. "I'm not training to be a Vice Captain."

Ise Nanao's eyes were locked on him alone now, and he was careful not to meet her gaze. Hinamori, however, seemed not to notice.

"But maybe you should! I bet you could do it, in just a few more years! You're a genius, after all, right Shiro-chan?" She smiled, unabashed and painfully honest in her compliment, and when she reached out – probably not even conscious of her own actions – to pat him on the head as she had so often done when they were children, Hitsugaya was caught for a moment between wanting to move, and wanting to allow her the gesture.

But they were not alone, and so he moved. One shunpo put him safely behind her, and she blinked, her hand stretched out to empty air, then spun around and laughed.

"See? That's what I mean!"

"Hinamori. Just worry about your own duties, and leave me to mine."

"Speaking of duties," Ise Nanao interjected, carefully pushing her glasses more firmly into place.

"Yes, I almost forgot! Don't work too hard, Hitsugaya-kun!"

"Moron," he muttered, but she was already too far away to hear him.

"I hope you're not talking about Ise-fukutaichou."

Instant frustration with his own inability to have sensed someone coming up behind him helped to keep any surprised motions in check, and Hitsugaya turned slowly, eyes narrowed, to find Akita Sachio standing only a few paces away.

"Because if you were," Akita went on through a slight grin, "then she'll probably condemn me by association and I really don't want to be on the receiving end of her response."

"I wasn't. What are you doing here?"

"That's what I was about to ask you," Akita replied, closing the remaining distance between them. "Looks like you just came from 4th Division."

Nothing in Akita's outward appearance would have revealed to anyone who did not know him that he was now a Vice Captain, no longer 7th Division's comfortable and casual third seat. His dark hair was still tied back in its warrior's tail, his clothing unadorned by any field insignia to betray his rank. But just a moment's observation was enough even for Hitsugaya, who had never known the man well to begin with, to note changes. Small, but telling. His sleeves were no longer rumpled from too many stolen naps in corners, and the shadows under his eyes from too many long nights drinking at neighboring 8th Division's compound were absent. But most striking of all was the change – difficult to pinpoint but undeniable – in his eyes, in the slight hint of strain around his smile.

He took Hitsugaya's lack of immediate response in his old stride, however.

"I hope that doesn't mean you're injured," he said, "but I'd be surprised if you were, and you look fine anyway. Might even have grown a little bit."

Htisugaya worked hard to keep his scowl under control. "You don't look injured either."

"So why am I heading toward 4th Division myself? Heh. Good question. Unfortunately," he said with a sigh, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck, and the weariness in the gesture did not seem feigned for show, "I'm on my way to pick up some of our division members who had a little too much fun with their sake last night, and were stupid enough to catcall some 11th Division rookies with friends. But they're going to think that was bliss after what I do to them."

"Mm," was all he said in reply, not trusting himself to think of words that wouldn't involve expressing dry amazement for this change in circumstance. He could still all too clearly recall how many times his fifth seat damage reports had cited Akita as a guilty party in just this sort of offense.

But either his expression betrayed him, or Akita knew him better than he would have thought, because the man gave a sheepish sort of grin and shrugged.

"You're thinking that not too long ago that would have been me, I know. But not too long ago I didn't have to explain to Kuchiki-taichou why Zaraki's pink-haired menace had a right to visit us with a message to pick up our trash."

"You have some interesting counterparts to deal with now, that's true," Hitsugaya conceded, an eyebrow raised in vague amusement at the thought of Akita trying to fend off Zaraki's infamous Vice Captain. He'd fortunately not had cause to interact with her himself, and hoped to keep it that way. Even if it might be nice not to be the shortest person in the room for once.

"Not least of whom include Hinamori-chan, eh?"

Amusement evaporated like so much mist, and Hitsugaya had to remind himself that this was Akita, who always talked before thinking, and that he at least ought to wait for elaboration before deciding what he'd have to do in response.

Akita gave him a suddenly sharp look, and he raised a hand quickly in a calming gesture.

"Hey now, that's one hell of a spike in reiatsu. It's not necessary, I promise. No disrespect meant to Hinamori-kun or yourself. She's asked about you at meetings, that's all. Wanted to know all about your work and how happy you were in the 7th and that sort of thing. I told her you're a genius, and constantly made all the rest of us look bad, but that you'd probably have more luck getting a rock to smile. She just laughed and said it sounded like you were feeling as cheery as usual, and I was relieved to learn that it wasn't just that you hated my guts all along."

Hitsugaya looked away uncomfortably, but figured that enough of an apology was in order to merit a reply. "No," he said. "There are plenty of people I hated much more."

Akita laughed. "Well that's good to know, isn't it? Anyway, I hear you're fourth seat now, but frankly I don't think that's going to last. When are you going to face up to truth and start preparing for a Vice Captain's exam? You know the 13th is still missing a second seat, and the 10th is – "

"I'm not interested in the Vice Captain's exam," he insisted.

"That so? Well, no use my trying to convince you. Maybe yours is the smarter choice, really. Can't say as I have much free time anymore these days. And you don't even want to know the nightmares you start to have as Kuchiki-taichou's second. And now that I've been foolish enough to say that out loud, my life is in your hands."

Normally Hitsugaya would have rewarded that speech with a cool snort, but there was surprisingly little levity in Akita's tone as he spoke, and his smile looked decidedly forced. "Is he that much stricter than Komamura?" he asked instead.

"He's… well… he's Kuchiki. I was expecting it, but I guess there's really no way you can fully prepare." Akita stiffened suddenly, pushing his shoulders back, a fierce and unmistakable pride in his expression. "But every other rumor you hear about him is also true. He's my Captain. You give your life to your Captain. I never realized that was there, when I watched Imada with Komamura-taichou. But I get it now."

Then Akita's hardened expression crumbled as swiftly as it had appeared; he seemed to realize suddenly that he was saying all this to a relative stranger.

"Eh, you'll have to excuse me. It's been a long morning already, and I'm running late. I should get going and collect those idiots. You take it easy, Hitsugaya. And make sure you move yourself up to third seat at least, or I'll be disappointed." He strode off then, waving over his shoulder as he went. "And I still say you've grown."

Hitsugaya let out a weary sigh through his teeth, but stood watching Akita disappear into the 4th Division compound with a thoughtful frown. He continued to ponder Akita's words as he turned and headed back to the 7th and his work.

He's my Captain.

Hitsugaya respected Komamura. What he'd said to Hinamori a year ago on the eve of her promotion was true – he didn't want any other Captain.

But a loyalty that went deeper than duty and respect?

You give your life to your Captain.

He hadn't ever stopped to think about the depth of Imada's devotion to Komamura either, but he was suddenly sure – remembering every meeting, thinking of how Imada would stand whenever he was at Komamura's side overseeing training – that Imada did feel that his life belonged to his Captain.

It was a part of a Captain's burden that Hitsugaya had not before considered, and bankai seemed suddenly more complicated than he'd already believed.

As time went on, it was difficult to say what played the greater part in hampering his progress, or if he would have progressed more quickly at all had circumstances been different.

Lessons learned from his academy days would always stay with him, ensuring that he sacrificed whatever time was necessary in order to fulfill to perfection any duty given him, no detail left unaddressed, no opportunities allowed for criticism on age or inexperience. This too often cut into time he might otherwise have devoted to training, but he never let weariness become an excuse to avoid training when the time for it could be found.

Yet nearly two years after making the decision to train for bankai he had still not achieved manifestation, and he knew in his gut that it was not a question of skill.

Most of the reasons for his lack of progress towards bankai were easy to identify, and he wasn't ashamed of them. Those two years of hard training had finally brought him to the point where he felt that control of his shikai was almost total. The ice dragon could now reach speeds that, if directed properly, even surpassed the movements of the sword itself. The speed with which he could shift water to ice was now almost instantaneous. And his control over the weather, which had always seemed the most susceptible to any shift in his subconscious, was now almost perfect in any circumstance. Finally understanding the subtle complexities of mastering Hyourinamru's shikai would have been well worth two years' training, even had there been no other goal in mind.

And as for his other work interfering wih training… well, putting duty before ambition met the needs of his pride, even if it also tried his patience.

But he knew, as well as he now knew every inch of his sword, that there was another reason for his lack of progress towards bankai. And as hard it was to acknolwedge this, it was even harder to comprehend it. He was determined to be honest with himself, but even that couldn't unveil all mysteries. Especially where Hyourinmaru was concerned.

Though far from complete, training for bankai had deepened his rapport with his zanpakutou, and he found that he could now speak with Hyourinmaru without a need for the dragon's visual presence, even if that presence was visible to him alone. It was known that not all Shinigami could attain such an intimate rapport with their zanpakutou's spirit, and he was pleased – though not surprised – to find that he could.

Certainly the ability to speak with Hyourimaru without calling the dragon out had its benefits, for while he had not yet managed full manifestation, he knew that he had at least begun pushing the limits; others kept looking around anxiously as if catching sight of something out of the corner of their eye whenever they drew near him while Hyourinmaru was awake.

Being able to converse with the dragon while the sword itself remained sealed allowed him Hyourinmaru's company while still leaving the surrounding spirit energies relatively undisturbed.

This proved especially welcome when, for the first time since becoming a fourth seat officer, he was ordered to accompany a team on a mortal world mission – something the higher level seated officers rarely found themselves doing. And since he'd started his work as a Shinigami straight off as a member of those higher ranks, he could count the number of his mortal world missions on fingers alone. He'd performed more soul burials during his accelerated training at the academy than in all four years since then, and he was perfectly content with that ratio, since killing Hollows had always come easier to him than soothing spirits.

But this was a mission that could not be avoided. A series of disasters had killed a large number of people in a small area, all within a few days. The resulting high concentration of new plus spirits was sure to attract a whole mess of Hollows unless the matter was dealt with very swiftly, and Imada had ordered two of 7th Division's best squads to a night's hard work. All that was left was an officer to oversee them.

"Wouldn't Watari be better for this?" Hitsugaya had asked, in the privacy of Imada's office where no one else could overhear.

"Kazuo is better at soul burials, it's true," Imada had said so matter-of-factly that Hitsugaya couldn't even take offense. "But he doesn't have your senses. I don't want you there to find souls or organize the men, I want you there to feel for Hollows and make sure we don't get excuses for why one wayward soul or another got missed. Half of the men in the top squads now have all trained under you at one point, and they know better than to try to sell you stories."

For the first time, Hitsugaya wasn't entirely sure he was happy with Imada's analysis of the way people viewed him. He told himself there wasn't time to dwell on it, however, and so a passage through the gateway and a few hours later found him sitting on a metal beam of a structure he thought the humans called the Tokyo Tower, high above the lights and shadows of a city defying sleep even in the dead of night, his senses open to any sign of disturbance.

His radar sat, active and occasionally beeping quietly, on the beam beside him. He let one foot hang down over open air while the bent knee of his other leg offered him a perch for crossed arms. Chin resting on the back of his top wrist, Hitsugaya kept his eyes half closed, muting the glow of the tower's many lights around him into a golden haze in the night darkness, and pondered questions of bankai while waiting for any message to come in from his squads, or any sign of a Hollow to tickle his senses.

When Hyourinmaru's voice tingled through his body, he was glad for the dragon's company, even though the zanpakutou's spirit did not choose now to show itself.

You are afraid.

At another time he might have bristled, but tonight he was seeking answers, and Hyourinmaru's words struck too close to unacknowledged truth to be denied. Hitsugaya said nothing for a long while, merely stared half blind into the night sky, letting the breeze tease through his hair.

Finally he sighed, and spoke without lifting his chin from his arms. "But of what?"

I cannot tell you.

"Can't? Or won't?"

If you can ask that question, then you already know the answer.

He sighed again, knowing it was true. Hyourinmaru knew him better than he knew himself. That was the whole problem, wasn't it?

Our time has not been wasted.

"No," he agreed. "I don't regret it."

Nor do I. But if you continue in this vein much longer, you will wander from the path completely. You cannot offer a challenge, and then hesitate to meet it. A dragon, once wakened, is not to be ignored.

The message was clear, but he knew his zanpakutou well by now, and he could hear a certain fondness beneath the words. Fond exasperation, perhaps, but that was fine. Hyourinmaru had nothing on him when it came to irritation.

Fear is not your nature, Hyourinmaru added after another stretch of silence.

"There's no point to fear."

Not for us. And yet there is one fear from which you cannot seem to free yourself. Why?

Hitsugaya frowned. But no answer came to him.

You know what is required to achieve bankai.

There was no point answering that one. Of course he knew. He'd spent the last two years tearing through every archive he could get into in addition to his training, and between research and sweat and instinct he knew exactly what was required.

Is it your ability to dominate me that you doubt? Or is it the thought of my subservience that disturbs you?

"What kind of question is that?" he muttered irritably, frown deepening into a scowl.

A pertinent one, Toushiro.

He could not remember the last time Hyourinmaru had addressed him by name, and it made him snort in spite of himself, half laughter half annoyance.

Face this fear. It doesn't suit you.

"I know."

It hinders you. It will prove your weakness forever if you cannot face and conquer it now.

"I know."

The dragon rumbled, a muted roar of frustration, and Hitsugaya felt his whole body shudder with it.

The shudder that passed through him a heartbeat later was of a different kind, and he lifted his chin from his arms immediately, reaching for the radar to verify what his senses were telling him. A second later a blip appeard on the screen, and identification markers scrolled into the top right corner. A Hollow. Two quick taps of his thumb brought up the locations of his squad members. None were closer to the target than he was.

"Good," he murmured.

Distracting yourself from the issue will not make it disappear.

"You picked one hell of a time to be talkative."

And you picked an inconvenient time to practice deafness.

He grinned in spite of himself as he pulled in his dangling leg and stood, tucking the radar into his clothes, against his skin. "Guess it just proves we're suited to each other."

Yes, the dragon said, and there was a strange weight to the reply, at odds with the tone the conversation had taken in a way that Hitsugaya did not have the time right now to examine.

He scanned the city below him, overlaying it in his mind's eye with the map of the radar's grid, finally pinpointing the area in which the Hollow should appear. Then he stepped backward off the beam, using the latticework of the tower's interior as a stairway for his descent, leaping from metal spar to metal spar. When he came level with the nearest building, he sprinted to the tower's sloping outer edge and pushed off with a long shunpo – a stretch even for him, as distance was the hardest thing to master in fast movement once the speed was sure – and was pleased when it landed him securely on the building's flat rooftop.

After that it was simple to navigate the city. Rooftop to rooftop, touching on the occasional tree in between when gaps were too large to jump easily, and the lights and the oblivious humans below flashed by in blurs of color and motion. The sound of air rushing by him was louder than all of their bustle. That, and the slowly building moan of a Hollow as he drew nearer to his target.

When he came upon it at last, he was almost disappointed to see how small it was. Little more than a human in size, with long dangling arms and a long narrow jaw, the Hollow barely had time to sense his approach before Hitsugaya fell on it from above. Hyourinmaru flashed in the unnatural green light shed by a nearby sign, and the Hollow's mask split in two, its body already beginning its slow dissolve before Hitsugaya's feet had even touched the ground.

He sighed, blade still in hand as he turned in place in the narrow, empty street, stretching his senses for any sign of a second Hollow. But there was nothing. Only a plus spirit hovering anxiously at the end of the street, saved from a Hollow's hunger.

The spirit, a young woman, her hair in disarray and her feet bare under her plain skirt, as though death had caught her unawares in the middle of preparing for bed, flinched away from him as he approached with his sword in hand.

"Don't worry," he said, but clearly hadn't managed to sound particularly reassuring, since she only flinched again at the sound of his voice. He tried not to feel irritated. He was really no good at this. He wanted to say, Look, you're already dead, what more do you think I can do to you? Except that he knew better. He knew how she would react, and he knew, far better than she did, just how much a soul did have to fear. So he just said again, "Don't worry. I'm here to help you."

She stood frozen now, the grubby building wall visible through the vague shimmer of her body, and watched him from behind a wispy curtain of dark hair like an animal at bay, too frightened to move.

"I'm going to send you on," he said, doing his best to sound reassuring, and held his left hand out, palm up, moving it slowly toward her face so that she could see his motion and intent. She was a bit taller than him, but not by much, and an easy flick of his fingers pushed her hair away from her forehead.

Immediately he wished he had refrained from the gesture, that he had just pushed through to skin with Hyourinmaru's pommel alone, because her eyes, now unscreened by black hair, were wide and deep and rich in color and looked so much like Momo's eyes that his breath caught and for a moment he couldn't move.

This.

He dropped his hand, and a few strands of her hair fell back over her wide gaze, but it was already too late. He was too close, and though apart from the eyes the faces were nothing alike, all he could see in her now was Momo. Watching him like a stranger.

This is what you fear.

He clenched his teeth, wishing for the first time ever that Hyourimaru would fall silent, would leave his mind. But the dragon only coiled inside of him, more restless than at any point in the night yet.

You fear losing her, that she is already lost, and the depth of that fear is what frightens you the most.

"Who…" the spirit finally spoke, her voice small and hesitant, little more than a whisper. "Who are you? What are you going to do to me?"

And you fear losing me. It is the same fear. You fear that my complete surrender to you means that you will lose your only other –

He spoke, louder than was necessary, cutting off Hyourinmaru's words in his mind, even though he knew exactly how the speech was meant to end.

"I'm sending you on," he said again. He steeled his heart to ignore that irrational association with Hinamori – it wasn't Hinamori – just a stranger – just another soul that he would never see after this – and snapped his sword tip back, bringing the tuska up, and stamped the girl's forehead with the sign of her passage. The pool of light opened beneath her instantly, and Hitsugaya stepped back, grinding his teeth, forcing himself to watch her burial through to the end.

But Hyourinmaru was not to be silenced.

I am not a friend, Hitsugaya Toushiro.

His jaw was clenched so tight that already a dull pain was shooting up into his temples. He returned the sword to its sheath with a sharp snap of metal meeting the mouth of the saya, but the command in the motion was wasted on the spirit within the weapon.

I will never be a friend. You do not befriend a dragon.

Hitsugaya turned on his heel and stalked to the edge of the street, jumping back to the rooftops in defiant silence, wishing that silencing the voice in his mind could be as simple as plugging his ears.

But I am more. Listen. You know this. It is time to understand it.

He was listening. He didn't have a choice.

And maybe it was time to hear it, after all.

Claim me, and I will be the blood in your veins. I will be closer to you than a friend or a comrade in arms could ever be, for those are not my roles. You fear to lose something, but you have only something to gain. Claim me, and we will be one, not separate. And together we can fight anything that might threaten you with loss.

Still he said nothing, but now it was not anger that held his tongue.

Hyourinmaru's words were opening a path in his mind, shining blue and white like ice through darkness, illuminating doubts he had not wanted to see clearly, and offering him a way through them all.

Remember, Hitsugaya. Remember what it means to take your place in the sky.

A path. But a dark gap between him and its beginning.

Fear or doubt or impatience – whatever it was, it would not let him remember what Hyourinmaru so clearly thought he ought to know.

When the squads gathered hours later, their work done, not a Shinigami among them, after taking one look at their fourth seat officer's expression, dared to speak a word beyond those required to report, and the hellmoths escorted an anxiously silent procession back to Soul Society.