A/N: Probably my last update until after Saturday. SAT's. Ugh

caught
a bleach fanfiction by Cherry

Original Story/Characters by Tite Kubo

"If Only I Could Erase Yesterday"
chapter two

"Detective Hitsugaya, I really don't think it's a good idea for you to handle this case. I know–" Captain Ukitake holds up a hand, "That you're more than capable, you've proved yourself many times in the past. However," he fixes Hitsugaya with a pointed stare, "the emotional complications would render you incompetent."

Hitsugaya's eyes widen at the final word. Incompetent? How dare he even–

"Just give it to him, Juushirou."

The entire room turns to look at the doorway. A man with a high nose and a cigarette sticking out the edge of his mouth stands there, lighter in hand. Everyone watches as he flicks the lighter to life and sets the cigarette aflame. The tip glows bright orange, smoke twisting through the air. The moment passes; he shoves the lighter back into his blazer pocket.

"Shunsui! But–" The Agent in Charge waves off the complaint and situates himself on the side-sofa next to the door, kicking up his feet on the coffee table. Smoke from his cigarette swirls up as he breathes in, and blows out. A waft of burnt sand bellows across the room. Hitsugaya coughs and clears his throat, the smell grating against his lungs. Matsumoto stands behind him, a hand raised in customary salute.

"Relax, Agent," The Agent in Charge turns back to the Captain, raising an eyebrow. The Captain opened his mouth, about to argue when something in Kyouraku's hand catches the light and glints toward the ceiling. The Captain's shoulders go tense, a large, incredulous smile spreading across his face.

"You've been promoted!"

The tension that had filled the room to the brim only seconds before drains out in an instant as it explodes with shouts of joy. Matsumoto whoops, Captain Ukitake stumbles over to his old friend, catching him in a tight one-armed hug, even Hitsugaya grins.

"Twice. So it's Director Kyouraku now."

"That's amazing, Shunsui! Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"Well, all the forms and whatnot kept me busy for a while, but I promised to come here first thing, so here I am." He sits back down; this time, the Captain joins him on the sofa.

"Well, as a celebratory gift, how about we all go out tonight, dinner's on me. And..." Kyouraku looks from The Captain to Hitsugaya. Ukitake sighs and nods. Hitsugaya's face brightens just enough, and he bows very low.

"Thank you, Captain. Thank you, Director." He is breathless as he rushes from the room. Matsumoto lingers behind, smile fading. She catches The Director's eyes and grins weakly.

"Congratulations, Director Kyouraku." She bows. Kyouraku winks, but his expression takes a turn for the serious as he jerks his head towards the door. He blows out another ring of smoke.

"Take care of him, Ran. Yeah?"

He flicks through file after file, page after page, picture after picture, name after name.

First victim, Orihime Inoue. Age, 23. Occupation, Medical Student at Columbia University. Marital Status, dating Uryuu Ishida (Fashion Major at NYU). Found in the presidential suit of the local Hilton Hotel.

Second victim, Hisana Kuchiki. Age, 25. Occupation, Professional Wedding Boutique Shop Owner. Marital Status, engaged to Byakuya Kuchiki (Yale Law student). Killed the day before her marriage ceremony. Found in the expensive loft above her shop.

Third victim, Tia Harribel. Age, 19. Occupation, Art History Major at Cornell University. Marital Status, single. Found in the dining hall of her father's mansion.

And the list goes on...

Yachiru Kusajishi. Age, 16; the youngest victim. Found in a suite in the Four Seasons. Hiyori Sarugaki. Age, 18. Found in a loft above Prada on 5th. Chizuru Honshou. Age, 17. The only lesbian of the whole lot. Found on the stage of Carnegie Hall. Isane Kotetsu. Age, 24. Found in the guest bedroom of her grandmother's wealthy, uptown home. Kiyone Kotetsu. Age, 20. Found in the exact same place. Their grandmother died of a heart attack on the spot after that. Nemu Kurotsuchi. Age, 21. Found in the Cornell Science Department Laboratories, where her father works as a Professor. It turns out her father wasn't the killer after all. Tatsuki Arisawa. Age, 23. Found in the entrance hall of the private doujo she teaches at.

Ten murders, ten. All in one month.

Tactless. That's what he called himself. Tactless. A pun, Hitsugaya supposes, on the fact that he always uses a golden tack to pin his victims up. Tactless works in intervals of three days between each murder, and three months between sprees. Those ten girls had all been murdered exactly three months ago, and now, it's all starting again. Three more girls have already been killed.

Four, Hitsugaya corrects himself dryly, flicking open the newest stack of files. One more file will be added to this stack today.

The first was Lisa Yadoumaru. Age, 21. The ex-FBI agent. Director Kyouraku didn't show up for a week after the incident. Found in her private home two blocks from Wall Street.

The second, Sui-Feng, Soifon, her fans had called her. Age, 19. The up-and-rising track star, headed for the Olympics. Found in Icahn Stadium. Her personal trainer, Yoruichi Shihouin almost killed one of the officers holding her in for questioning. She was let-go eventually when they confirmed the murderer to be Tactless.

Then the most recent murder preceding, Nelliel Tu Odelshwanck. Age, 19. The Victoria's Secret Model from Germany. Found in the main hall of the runway show she was scheduled for that weekend.

And now... Hitsugaya kneads his eyes with his knuckles and tries not to think about the girl, pinned up in the hotel suite, her black hair like ink running off a canvas against the pale, Victorian-styled wallpaper. What the hell was she doing there?

Momo never liked expensive hotels or fancy restaurants. No, she preferred the night in with a good cup of tea and an old movie, probably starring Audrey Hepburn or Marilyn Monroe. What was she doing there...?

Maybe she was called–no\lured–no\kidnapped\there were no signs of brute force on the body. But she was suffocated. Why didn't she screamyellcall for help–call him? He would have been there, he would have, ofcourseofcourse. He would have... what would he have done?

He would have called authorities\called for help\kicked his ass\protected her\protectprotectprotected\he was useless\useless\useless. He didn't protect her.

He would have killed whichever bastard dared touch a hair on her body. Tactless is a dead man, that's right, deaddeaddead. BANG.

"Hitsugaya?" He jumps; the coffee in his hand nearly tips over. Matsumoto sits down in her usual seat, right angled with his desk so that they can see each other at all times. She crosses her hands over the files spread haphazardly over the cherrywood. Hitsugaya sets down the coffee. She glances at it. It's untouched and cold.

She leans in. He leans back.

Avoidance.

"Has Forensics got an official report in yet?" He speaks first. She is only just opening her mouth–closes it, and purses her lips. She nods carefully, finally forging eye contact. Ice-gray skies over tumultuous green oceans. A storm is brewing; they can both hear the thunder. Only a matter of time before the lightning starts flashing.

"Well?" He raises a eyebrow, a perfect arch over the windows to his soul. They're closed, but never for long when she's around. She forces them open, like Momo before her. Because that's what partners do, they unlock you. Pain pours out, in waves;tidal-waves;tsunamis;hurricanes;tornados;volcanoes.

...

Thunder rolls in, skies cloud over in dark blue; lightening flashes, waves from wind crash against reefs and rocks. It starts to rain.

"It wasn't your fault." Rain turns to snow.

Yes it was, yesitwas, it was all my fault, my fault,myfault, .fault.

I'm useless.

"And even if she did call you, you would have never made it in time." Snow to hail.

I would have found a way to help her, protect her. I would have, would have...

Useless.

"Please... don't do this to yourself."

Hitsugaya looks away.

The storms ceases in an instant, the waves stop, the clouds disperse, the rain thins until only a light mist remains.

Matsumoto knows she lost, and sighs.

Useless.

"The forensics report came back clean... except for mild traces of d-tubocurarine in her bloodstream." She keeps her gaze marked on his face. Matsumoto wasn't trained in deception for nothing. He tenses and turns rigidly back towards her. She sees through his skull; his brain zooms into overdrive.

"Curare..., d-tubocurarine is in Curare...he drugged her." Matsumoto nods and pushes the file across the table to him. He looks down at it, eyes glazing over the words, not understanding them. He shakes his head to clear it of the remaining storm clouds and tries again. Traces of d-tubocurarine... puncture wound found on right forearm... injected... prescription...

She'd struggled.

Matsumoto watches as he comes to the same conclusion she'd come to minutes ago.

"She put up a fight."

"He broke his M.O."

They look at each other.

"She could have tried to call for help."

"Something must have gone wrong for him."

uselessfaultuselessfaultuselessfaultprotectprotectprotect.

Hisagi and Abarai rush in, a plastic bag clutched tightly in Hisagi's hands.

In the bag: a cellphone.

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