Flower In the Flames: Revised

Chapter 4: Delve

The reason I did so well after Sousuke betrayed me is because it wasn't hell…

I lived on because I was sure hell would never be in my world again….because I was sure I could look to a bright future…

But here I am…in hell again…

-Momo Hinamori

-X-

After in taking more than a few cups of water at Unohana's behest, Momo was much calmer after a few minutes being left to her private thoughts. Though Unohana made several unspoken gestures for the others to make themselves scarce, they seemed quite intent on not leaving her alone in the room, still ominously standing or lying around the room as many watched her with inquisitive eyes and turbulent thoughts—the only courtesy they were willing to give was unfettered silence.

This was fine in Momo's perspective. Unbeknownst to them, she relished in the water she was allowed to drink, it being immensely satisfying as it drenched her water-deprived throat from the lingering heat of her 'dream'. It was a relief in and of itself.

The captains were now all aligned, each and every one very much awake and aware. Loitering in their respective places, many of which were out of her immediate vision, they waited. They were waiting to hear an order. To hear her speak. Some sign that they were to continue their actions to face the crisis that involved hell's gaping maw.

In particular however, they were waiting from any signal of any sort from the head captain, who wisely remained immobile since her awakening. His motionless limbs were still perched on his wooden cane, and he himself was still immovably situated in a chair that he has yet to arise from. His only detectible action was watching, giving a large amount of attention to the girl on the white sheets and draped in a hospital gown.

Hitsugaya was quite frustrated on the inside, now being pristinely aware of what would likely come within the next few hours…or even in the next few minutes. He was ready to speak on her behalf, but if the head captain gave an order he was expected to complete it without hesitation. He didn't know if he could do that if her situation turned into anything that involved detainment of her person. The heavy silence in the room only seemed to agree with that sentiment, and unlike him, most of the captains were more than willing to take any steps that were required of them.

But all he could do for right now was watch. Watch and hope that no matter her disposition or struggle she would at least be treated cordially and not like a dangerous influence that had to be kept under strict supervision and guard.

He was surprised however, when she did decide to speak, and it anything but "unwilling".

"I can guess what you want me to do." Surprisingly, she looked at the head captain head on, reminding Hitsugaya of the passionate girl who would stand up to just about anyone if someone were to hit a nerve. He knew Byakuya could attest to this quality.

She was still, however, no matter how much she tried to suppress it, still shivering. An action that perhaps prompted Kenryu's next snide outburst "You're not going to decline…are you?"

Hitsugaya snorted, once again looking toward him with blatant signs that he wanted him to shut his unpopular mouth.

But it seemed that he wasn't the one to voice out his discontent with the man's presence, instead being spoken by the barbaric brute of a man that calls himself Kenpachi "Tch! Why is Kenryu here? We already know how to send her there." Hitsugaya couldn't tell if he truly tired of the man or simply disliked him because of his obvious effect on Momo—a person who was perhaps, the only durable common playmate with Yachiru. Others always seemed to get injured or thrown off by her overbearing childish antics.

The head captain relied curtly, careful to keep his voice relatively low "Because in case anything happens then he'll be able to take immediate action."

Kenpachi made a loud "Tch" sound before he turned his head.

It was the rattling of glass that returned their attention toward Momo, who quickly grasped better control of her clutch on the clear cup she held, and took a deep breath to regain her composure, trying her best to look like the ideal fifth squad lieutenant. "I take it you chose it because there really is no other option…."

Her voice almost seemed so childish, being essentially meek and timid despite her countenance. Had the situation not been so grave he would've scoffed at the girl before him who all of a sudden seemed like she was wearing her parents clothing.

But, as was how the Soul Society was set up, age was inferior to prowess at times, and thus Hinamori was put up to the rank of lieutenant. Out of all of them, with the exception of Yachiru, Momo was the one who stood out the most. She was small, barely even half the height of the majority of other lieutenants. She gave off little in terms of superiority or intimidation, a stark contrast to the other hard-edged males of the same rank. But more than anything else, she was the most unlikely to bore any ill-intent toward even the most hostile of enemies; she looked sooner to hug a person rather than raise a blade.

If anyone that was not of Seireitei were to come in right now and look at this spectacle, that person would say they saw a "poor child" on the bed, being surrounded by the sternest of the captains.

The head captain lowered his wrinkled eyes "Unfortunately, yes."

She let out a deep sigh, leaning back on the plushed up pillows that covered the headboard of her bed "I see…" She then closed her eyes, as if giving herself a reassuring process of thoughts that would see her through "So…when do I start?"

He would admire her courage more if he understood her reasoning a bit more. Did she not know that the decision could entail? Or the pain that it would likely cause. He himself may not know the details, but anything regarding hell was bound to be burdensome for whomever had to deal with it and…seeing as how Momo seemed to have predicted the outcome, it should be especially known to her as to how dangerous the situation may be.

He let his eyes harden on her form, still essentially a shaky mess contained in a fragile vessel that tried to remain strong. His mind knew that she was skilled and a self-capable tactician, but the more he looked at her, the less this seemed to be true. Which was why he inwardly cringed at the head captain's answer.

"Today. Whenever you feel you re fit enough to do so." The old man slightly swerved his head to look at Kenryu, his spiritual pressure, calm and restrained for the most part, all of sudden turned a bit heavier with a stern undertaking "and from now on, I shall commend you to captain Hitsugaya's care. It is to my understanding that the process is difficult once initiated. Therefore I see it fit to place under a cautious watch, which I believe Hitsugaya is well apt for. He will be the one to have the final say on any precautions or other decisions that regard you. No one else, aside from me myself, will have any authority on the matter. But they do have permission to advise, I trust he will listen to all council." He said it loud enough for everyone to hear.

Hitsugaya's grip, once clenched into a tight fist, was released when the old man finished speaking. He was grateful that he had listened to his request at least, much to worried as to what may happen to her when the process whatever that was) began. At least now he has a sizable amount of control on her circumstances, but he knew he had to be ever vigilant with the situation at hand. A catch that he was more than willing to abide to as he already intended on keeping a watchful eye on Hinamori anyways.

Him asking the head captain for her to be transferred to his care was a relatively abrupt proposal, being asked by Hitsugaya not too long after news of this meeting reached him. It was short sequence of words, with but a few strings of reasoning, but he believed the old man saw his concern. It was only a natural idea to have someone take careful care of the person who would essentially be used by them to end hell's crisis. He had yet to arrange her living preparations in his squad, or any other accommodations for that matter.

He didn't really think much of it though, as he was going to set those up immediately the moment he is released from this meeting. Looking at her now, he determined that he will take her over his squad as soon as all this formality was over and done with; he was sure Unohana would agree with the various amount of patients around that were sensitive to turbulent reiatsu. It would be best to keep her near the able bodied instead of the burdened.

'I should be able start the process in about five to ten minutes.' He though, seeing as how the meeting was nearing its close. Her first "delve" to hell he estimated to be anywhere within the next two to eight hours, in that time he will see to it that everything is prepared for her upmost comfort.

But then he heard the soft moving of sheets as he watched Momo pull herself out of bed ""I'll do it right now. If it's acceptable I mean…" the words came out of her mouth slightly haggard, as if, somehow, her voice her words where in and of themselves wrong. She found the sound awkward, quite perturbed at the current state of affairs.

Mouth left agape, Hitsugaya took one hesitant step back, much to weary of her condition—the bandages on her arm were only too visible to him, and they still had red stains lining the threads at certain intervals. He cringed at the metallic scent that occasionally wafted into his nostrils. He understood that healing kido wasn't working as intended, but he didn't expect the wounds to be steadily seeping.

The head captain was silent for a bit, mulling over her words. Even though Unohana had basically cleared her—albeit reluctantly—for at least some form of action beyond her barracks, but her mental condition and actual physical status was essentially up for question. They still did not understand the specifics of her attack, nor who or what was the perpetrator behind it. They did not know the peculiar qualities of her wound nor if it has any lingering effects It was unknown if she would render herself too exhausted if she did it now. Or should he wait and hope she will regain more vitality?

But her eyes held hopeless desperation, a sure sign that perhaps she knew more about the situation than she was willing to tell. In which case, then she herself is acknowledging that prolonging her journey would do nothing…or was she just that desperate to get the whole thing over with?

Hitsugaya lightly grabbed her shoulder "I think you should actually rest a little longer…"

She didn't respond. She seemed engrossed with some nonexistent peculiarity on the head captain's shoulder—apparently not willing to meet his eyes.

Silence again, the air of contemplation was laid thick over the room. But a suggestion was voiced from Byakuya, who spoke for the first time since the meeting's progression "Perhaps we should just send her for five minutes at most. I believe that will be an ample amount of time ascertain the basics of the strain of the voyage and other effects. From that we can ascertain the situation better and then take procedures to ensure a higher success rate.

The was a quiet chorus amongst the room as the suggestion was being considered—it was favored apparently, because not a single person voiced any opposition. Slow but cautious seemed to be the preferred first step.

Everything after that was a relative blur. The process of arrangements for her first delve into hell could be summarized in just two sentences. Momo was moved to another room. A room that held nothing accept four stable walls with no windows and a door.

Her walk to the said room was more like an escort of the upmost importance, with at least two captains beside her, another two captains in front of her and yet another pair behind her. The six of them were organized around her like an organized palanquin guard. Squad four members were deported from the area five minutes before her departure by the order of Soi Fon, and the only ones left were the hand-picked healers Unohana requested to be nearby in the event of injury. They waited outside the room where she would begin the process, and would be called in immediately if anything arose. She knew that the protection was a precaution, a reasonable one at that, but as she walked down those halls she felt…exceedingly small. The captains practically dwarfed her in size, and each were exuding a stern type of spiritual pressure that almost made her think she was being brought to a trial that involved the crime of a most heinous treason. The only person who was possibly a much sterner watch was Kenryu, who had three captains beside and behind him. Yet he seemed content.

The room was barren, and the only person waiting inside the room was messenger. A messenger that carefully presented a blade to the line of captains that filed in; a blade wrapped in a bone-white cloth that looked as if it had been freshly dug up from a morbid grave as it crudely gave an appearance of vehemence. What black of the blade she could see peeked out tauntingly from the sinews of the cloth, as if only waiting for a chance to lunge out of its paper thin restraints.

There was a momentous silence as the captains considered just who would be the one to do it—send her to hell. As she was situated to sit on the floor, there were inquisitive glances between the captains as they regarded each other with nearly awkward proposition, all of them were foreign to using an blade that was not their own and not exactly everyone was attuned to the idea of consciously making a decision to use a cursed blade on the person who was practically prostrated before them as a sacrificial lamb.

They loomed over her like a set of towers now, and as spiritually aware beings they knew that the blade that excluded a nearly hollow-like wave of reiatsu—reiatsu that coiled around their beings like invisible testing tendrils—that the blade that was waiting to be used was indeed from sin.

Soi Fon leered at it for a moment, then at Momo, who, even to the eyes of one of the shortest of the captains, looked like a miniscule scared kid in comparison to her, and started to bring her hand forward. If anyone was to make a precise cut of the most miniscule scope, it could be her. It was a necessary action in her mind.

But before her hand could even touch the hilt, it was grasped away by Kurotsuchi's pale hand. Eyes slightly bulging, and his teeth lightly grinding, he looked furiously impatient "Why is this taking so long?! I'll do it myself!"

His sudden outburst was coupled with a fast expansion toward Hinamori, his hand already arching upward as the while cloth pooled off the revealed blade that seemed to hiss in satisfaction as the white bonds slid of its sleek metal.

But he barely made two steps forward before his arm was roughly grabbed. The grip obviously held anger and contempt, as it made no effort to not cancel the circulation of blood that should be coursing through it. Kurotsuchi was not surprised to find Hitsugaya was the one to give him a vice grip, who was currently giving him a most vicious and intense stare with his voice ominously low "Not one more step toward her."

He snorted "Well someone has to do it. We have wasted enough time….do you want to be the one to do the deed, perhaps?"

The tenth squad captain inwardly cringed at the idea, but refused to flinch in the presence of this man. Instead, he mutely stared at him, unwilling to open his mouth to respond at the horrid suggestion.

But he didn't have to. Just as quickly as it has been taken away from her vision, Soi Fon quickly reclaimed the sword. Just as quickly had she done that, she used flash step, and before anyone could even blink, they hear small shrill cry from Momo's position.

Turning their heads to the sound, they found Momo now splayed on the floor unconscious, with an obvious wound, now bleeding slightly, emanating from her arm. The energy spewed forth from the blade whose end was now slightly coated with blood, was also despicably prominent.

The moment Momo felt anything on her person, it was instantly replaced with another sensation. In fact, everything about her senses was being replaced with another variety of sensation.

Her eyes saw a world with a sky tainted with fiery red fumes, an air that crackled and harshly sizzled and she felt the devastating heat to the point that he skin instantly felt dry. A millisecond after that, the heat seemed to be enough to make her skin peel, as if it had just now registered her presence and decided to come upon her in full force.

How is it…that I always end up here again…?

She was actually able to think past the fear that resided in her head. The black clouds lay thick inside her head as her breaths came in rasping pants.

The heat was almost unbearable, her body already felt like it was going to melt and peel away till she was nothing but the incomprehensible ashes and bits that lay upon the ground.

She gulped, trying her best to remember the reason she came here. It was to find the kuseiko wasn't it?

Her first flashes of memory in response to the idea made her remember the times when she woke up in the detainment cells with some burnt relics. Or the few times ash was inexplicably smeared on her person after her time with Kenryu's experiments.

It seemed that it was possible for more than physical wounds to return with the consciousness from hell. She remembered how excited Kenryu was, always cherishing whatever she brought back, even if it was essentially useless.

She reluctantly opened her eyes again, only opening in slits as the twirling debris threatened to taint her vision. She now endlessly shivered, knowing all too well of what she was going to have to do if she were to reach the coveted item.

She was going to have to take a step forward.

In all of her time spent here, she never even took so much as one step away from whatever position she ended up on. She always became rooted to the spot. Always, and without exception, all she did was wait. Waiting for….anything really. Anything to happen. Anything to get her out of this hell.

She looked toward the ground—that ruined ground of charred bones, ruined pieces of flesh and disfigured mounts of ash and heated decomposition. The heated sensation in her waraji only became more prominent as she stood there, offering little to no protection. What was to happen if she took a step?

Would she burn?

Would something come out of the ground to harm her?

….Would the flames devour her?

Regardless, she has been ordered to retrieve the kuseiko and in order to that….she had to move; to take the first, frightening, foreboding step in hell.

She took it slowly; despite her body telling her not to. She then took another step, then another….then another. The flames seemed to be drifting toward her as she did so, almost like they were just waiting for her to get close enough for them to touch her. They reminded Hinamori of eager fingers that wanted to touch something new.

Every step she made was couples with prominent sounds of crushing, breaking and splintering, and all the while she found that the heat was ever-present as it licked her skin. She cringed at every bone that seemed to crack beneath her weight, and the miserable shattering sounds of material that rung in her ears.

But then her ears alighted on the familiar sounds of slithers, the kind that trudged through the wastes without heed. Then the sounds of relentless trudging with coupled roars, the kind the bespoke of persevering hunger and deep hatred.

Her entire body stiffened at the approach, registering the presence with the appropriate response of a momentous stillness as she paid attention of their probable position.

She was present: the prey. They were also present: the predators. The only thing you can possibly depict from the arrival of the two is simply "hunt".

It was always plainly obvious what the concept meant. She was to run, and if she was caught, she would die.

Therein she found her body maneuvered by the most basic of instincts; to flee. Somehow the relentless burns and crisps on her body were negligible as her body became pumped with adrenaline. With them behind her, she could only hope she was fast enough to outpace their movements.

Momo's heart was beating hard; hard enough for it to burst. She could already hear it as the sound rang above the other noises of the burning world. It was not much longer before she began to hear the growls of the rotting ash. The scent of their putrid, decaying bodies starting to waft in her nose; the threat of injuring her making her quicken her steps beyond their fastest capacity.

To be reasonable; she had almost completely forgotten about the object she was supposed to find.

Stopping abruptly in her tracks, her feet now completely smothered in smudges of black and grey, she was able to decipher the previous befuddling noises of the numerous sounds that encompassed her before, now realizing that somehow or another, the beasts were now in front of her as well.

With them cornering her like this all she can do-no, could do—was just stand there. Just like she was every other time she came here. The growls and grunt were now clearly audible and they seemed to be in more number than usual.

At some point the familiar sensation waves and waves of pain came to her again; like iron nails being punctured through her skin, lava coming into her blood and stinging ash tainting and burning her skin.

Once again, she did what she had always done; screamed in agony.

-X-

A/N: Hmm, I think my descriptions of hell are turning a bit stale. I am starting to doubt the scenery has the same intensity as its first presentation...