A/N: I'm stalled out on A Fukutaichou's Duty, so I thought I'd update this in the meantime. Please review if you like it!

Chapter Three

And just like that, he was gone. For three to four months.

Rangiku blinked back tears. Well, hadn't she wished that she never had to see him again? She was getting part of her wish.

She sat down on the roof and wrapped her arms around her middle. Why had he reacted like that? She'd expected him to be cocky, smug, impossible to deal with for a while (or forever, depending on how highly he ranked the accomplishment of getting her into bed).

She could even understand fear over ruining his reputation or losing his position. But this regret, his apologetic eyes, his concern about forcing her, hurting her, taking advantage of her . . . those, she hadn't anticipated.

Maybe she'd been too hard on him, made an error in treating him like any other man. Maybe he really was different, better. Surely there was something about him that made her fall in love with him in the first place, some reason she let him get her into bed without the most basic formality of buying her flowers or dinner or even a drink.

And maybe she was just grasping at straws again.

Rangiku jumped to her feet. No more feeling sorry for herself. It was just a one night stand. She'd have a nice long soak in the tub, then go out with the boys for a nice long celebration of her three month vacation from even the pretense of paperwork, and then—his words came back to her. Maybe she'd better not drink for a while, at least until enough time had passed for Unohana to check her over, let her know for sure one way or the other. Because she hadn't made him wear protection.

And, just like that, she was back to fervently wishing she had never met Hitsugaya Toushirou. Oh, why had she gone into that bar? Why had she let her taichou pick her up when he was so obviously not acting like himself? Why hadn't she insisted on a condom or even brought the idea up?

God, she was a fool. What had she been thinking? It was all well and good and simple to blame him, but she had been the sober one! What if she really were pregnant? Would she have it? Would she be able to live with herself if she didn't? Would he want to be involved? Would he ask her to marry him?

Nah. Pregnant or not, Matsumoto Rangiku wasn't the marrying kind. If it were Hinamori in her shoes, he would marry her. Or Nanao. Or Orihime. Or even Rukia. But none of them would have let themselves get into that situation in the first place, and that was the difference.

But suppose, just for the sake of argument, that by some flaw in logic he did propose. Would she accept?

Hmmm, marriage to Hitsugaya Toushirou . . . . All that yelling and sarcasm and short-temperedness and loyalty and support and solidarity and kindness . . . .

Marriage to Hitsugaya Toushirou would be . . . bliss.

Damn it, not again! Her mission while he was away: get over her short albino tyrant of a taichou.

Starting now.

Hitsugaya could hear shouting the moment he stepped out of the Senkaimon in front of Urahara's shop. He followed the noise inside to the almost-nostalgic sight of a teen with vibrant orange hair choking the shop's proprietor.

"Now, Kurosaki-san . . . ."

"I mean it, Hat-and-Clogs! If you think I believe for one second that you had nothing to do with my Substitute Badge breaking—"

"He didn't," Hitsugaya said, revealing his presence.

"Toushirou!" Kurosaki Ichigo shouted, dropping his death grip around Urahara's neck and rushing toward Hitsugaya, who sidestepped just enough to avoid a hug.

"It's Hitsugaya-taichou to you, Kurosaki," he auto-replied. Old habits died hard, apparently. "Long time no see."

The teen had grown in Hitsugaya's two-year absence. The changes weren't noticeable in his height or build so much as in his face, in the set of his jaw and the tightening around his eyes. This was the Kurosaki Ichigo he had known, defended, fought beside, and yet it wasn't. Hitsugaya wondered if changes could be seen in himself, as well.

"You haven't changed a bit, Toushirou!"

Apparently not.

"Did you finally decide to come for a visit? You haven't been to Karakura Town since . . . ," the Shinigami Substitute trailed off, gaze sharpening. "This isn't a social visit, is it? Is there trouble? Where's Matsumoto?"

Hitsugaya rolled his eyes at the teen's rapid-fire questions, flinching at the last one. His fukutaichou always came with him to the living world, if not to watch his back then for the shopping and socializing. That she hadn't even mentioned going with him . . . things were so fucked.

"Not trouble, exactly, but you're right that this isn't a social visit. The soutaichou wants a full report on you: your fighting ability, day-to-day actions, responsibilities in the World of the Living, etc. Basically, you're being audited."

"What? Why? I thought Rukia sent in regular reports—"

"The soutaichou wanted something a little more comprehensive and slightly less biased."

Kurosaki shrugged, then glared at him. "Wait, you said before that Urahara had nothing to do with my badge breaking . . . did you do something to it, Toushirou?"

"Hitsugaya-taichou. And good catch. It is customary to take a Shinigami off of active duty during his review period. Usually, his zanpaktou is confiscated. Given the circumstances, I thought this was the better route." Hitsugaya stared into the substitute's eyes, willing him to read between the lines and, for God's sake, not say anything about it. You still have that talking stuffed animal, dumbass.

After a moment, the teen just nodded. "So why does that old man want a report on me now?"

"It's customary—"

"Don't give me that 'customary' crap. You suck at lying. And the way you're already finding ways around rules tells me this is a big deal."

Hitsugaya sighed. He had hoped to postpone this conversation, if not avoid it completely. He hadn't counted on Kurosaki getting smarter. "Basically, no one knows what the hell to do about you, Kurosaki. There hasn't been a Shinigami Substitute in centuries, and for good reason. You're reaching the age of majority soon, and you're going to have some decisions to make. So are we. We're still short three taichous, soon to be four, and you've been recommended several times. Opinions are split on you because of your age and the fact that you're still alive, you lack formal training, you've never been a part of a squad, and the only Shinigami skill you've bothered to develop is sword work. You also haven't done yourself any favors by constantly opposing the Gotei 13."

"When have I ever—"

Hitsugaya counted the incidents off on his fingers. "You broke into Seireitei to rescue Kuchiki Rukia and wounded countless Shinigami, you disobeyed direct orders when you went after Inoue Orihime in Hueco Mundo, you attacked our team that went to collect that Memory-Crystal girl, Senna, then there was that disaster with the noble family when you raised your sword against me, need I go on? You're a wildcard, Kurosaki, and too powerful to be ignored. It's my job to observe you and recommend a course of action."

"Such as?"

"Promoting you to taichou, revoking your substitute status and sealing your powers away, or something in between."

Kurosaki paled. "Why the hell are you the one making that decision? You hate me!"

The white-haired taichou smirked at the teen. "I don't think the soutaichou likes you very much," he lied.

The teen shook his head. "I don't know why you even bothered to come. Why don't you just write your recommendation now and have done with it?" With one last glare in Hitsugaya's direction, he ran off.

"Ah, the fury and passion of youth," Urahara sang from the floor.

Yeah, tell me about it.

"Are you going to go after him?"

Hitsugaya shrugged. Dealing with people, especially people's emotions, wasn't really his strong point. Matsumoto would know what to do. But he didn't know what to do about her, either.

Or her jaded eyes.

The office felt so empty. On day two of their separation she'd gone in a few hours late, like usual, but there was no one to scold her for it.

Good. Good riddance.

There was also no one to greet, no one to tease.

And with no paperwork to (pretend to) do, no real reason to be there.

She only lasted five minutes, deciding to go check on the training teams instead. And if she happened to swing by Shunsui's on the way and never quite make it, well, there'd be no one to yell her later.

Why did that thought make her feel lonely?

She got halfway to the Eighth before she remembered she couldn't drink sake anyway. Training, it was.

On days three and four, she didn't even bother going into the office. The paperwork was with her taichou and wouldn't be ready for pick up until the end of the week, so there was no work to do there. She couldn't drink, so there was no reason to raid her secret stash. And even if she were to take a nap on the couch, he wouldn't be there to be annoyed by it. It was all meaningless.

So, training again. If something didn't change, she was going to have her bankai by the time he returned.

On day five, she went to the Eighth anyway. Haineko was being bitchy and the training team leaders had tactfully suggested that more would get done if she weren't breathing down their necks.

Two hours into her spiel on how frustrating it was when Hitsugaya-taichou crossed his arms, Nanao threw her out.

"Rangiku-san, go do something!"

"But with who, Nanao-chan? You're my only friends!" she whined.

"I think Jyuushirou's feeling under the weather, maybe he could use some of your lovely, uh, cheer," Shunsui suggested, sweatdropping from his hiding spot behind Nanao.

So she brought Ukitake tea and complained about her taichou through four cups of the stuff before he gave her a look.

"Rangiku, I think something is bothering you," he said, cutting her off.

She rolled her eyes. "Well, yeah, that's what I've been trying to tell you!"

"Something besides the vein that throbs on Hitsugaya-kun's forehead when he gets angry."

"I—"

"Why don't you tell me about what's really bothering you?" he asked in that gentle tone of his. The tone that would not be denied.

She blanched. "Oh, well, look at the time! I really better get going, hope you feel better soon, darling!" she chirped, racing for the door. Strike two.

Hisagi let her hang around indefinitely, let her bore him to tears with her continuous ranting, simply nodding in agreement or grunting noncommittally while he continued to do his work. She could only stand it for an hour.

"Disagree with me, damn it! Say something and mean it! Yell at me, kick me out, do something!"

He raised his eyebrows, looking vaguely hurt. "I'm not your taichou, Rangiku-san."

No, you're not.

And that was the problem, because it wasn't company she missed. It was his company.

On day six, she went to see Unohana-taichou and explained her situation as succinctly as possible:

"I really need a drink, I mean really need a drink, but I might be pregnant and I don't want to do anything that might hurt a baby so please check and tell me I'm not!"

The Fourth Squad taichou smiled at her kindly. "How long has it been? After five days, a reiatsu screening can sometimes confirm that a baby is present, but I cannot tell you for sure that you're not pregnant until at least ten days have passed."

Rangiku felt like crying. "So if it's been six days, you can tell me if it's a yes, but not if it's a no?"

"Yes."

"Well, that doesn't make any sense!"

"Sometimes the baby's reiatsu isn't strong enough to appear this early, so there are a lot of false negatives. But if the screening detects a separate presence, you'll know for sure that you are pregnant. Are you ready to perform the test?" the taichou asked as she led Rangiku to an examining room.

The only thing she might find out was the thing she wasn't ready to hear. Rangiku really needed a hand to hold right now. She had her taichou's number, she could call him. But she didn't think this qualified as an actual emergency and, regardless, she wasn't sure she was ready to face him. She could call Nanao-chan instead . . . but then she'd have to explain why she needed a pregnancy test. Rangiku was one of the friendliest people in Seireitei, damn it! So why was she always facing the hard stuff alone?

"I-I'm ready Unohana-taichou," she stuttered.

The procedure was surprisingly non-invasive. The dark-haired woman simply ran her hands over Rangiku's clothed stomach. Which unfortunately meant that Rangiku didn't have any pain or discomfort to distract her from her nerves. Oh, God, what if it's positive, what if it's positive, what if it's positive?

"Matsumoto-fukutaichou, you're going to need to calm down," a gentle voice broke into her terror. "Your reiatsu is flaring up all over the place, and I can't figure out if it's emotional or protective. Maybe if you had someone sit with you while I do this?"

Call him. Just call him. "N-No, I can do it on my own. Just give me a second to calm down."

The results were inconclusive.