Chapter Six
He'd only been in Soul Society for a couple hours, but his brief presence made his absence even more apparent. God, she missed him. Already. Rangiku didn't do alone well. Not when it was synonymous with lonely. And so she turned to her familiar friend that would never desert her—sake.
As she took yet another sip and let it warm her from the inside out, Rangiku wondered if she'd made a terrible mistake. And whether it even mattered if she had. Could one terrible mistake on top of another really be that much worse?
Because now that she thought about it, maybe her problem with Hitsugaya wasn't the ghost of his fingers on her skin—that irrepressible phantom touch she felt every time she saw his face, heard his voice—but the memory of him acting so out of character—so rough, so uncaring, so heartless in the face of her pain. Sex could fix the former, but could it really do anything for the latter? Or would her inability to trust him persist, continue, color every encounter until even the make-up sex was tinged in its bitter murkiness?
She didn't have an answer.
And so maybe, in her haste to fix things, she'd gone and fucked them up even more.
She loved him. God, how she loved him. But maybe the man she loved and the man he was weren't quite the same. But she'd already put herself on the line, already committed. This second round was going to happen whether it was the right thing or not.
Matsumoto stared into her sake cup, hoping that it held all the answers.
"Fell off the wagon again, I see?"
The voice in her ear made her jump. "Nanao! What are you doing in a bar?" she asked, peering up at her friend through alcohol-glazed eyes. "Has hell frozen over? Taichou did keep meaning to go there."
"Very funny. I'm looking for Shunsui. He wasn't drinking in the office or with Ukitake-taichou, so he must be out at a bar tonight. Unfortunately, it doesn't seem to be this one. But what's with you?" Nanao replied, sliding onto the bar stool next to her. "I haven't seen you drinking in over a week, and it's not like you to drink alone."
She flushed. "I, uh, thought I'd try life sober. It sucked, bad, so I have some catching up to do," she covered, throwing back the sake in her cup and pouring a refill from the bottle.
"Mmmhmm. You've never been a very good liar, Rangiku-san. You thought you might be pregnant, didn't you."
It wasn't a question, and Matsumoto cursed her friend's perceptiveness. Nanao was like her taichou in that way; they saw right through to the heart of the situation, no excuses and no regrets.
"Oh, Ran-chan. Why didn't you tell me?"
"What was I supposed to say? Nanao, come help me, I've done something stupid yet again? I already know I'm a fool, I didn't need a lecture on top of it."
"I wouldn't have—" she broke off at Matsumoto's knowing look and blushed. "Okay, I would have, but you still should have told me. You shouldn't have gone through it alone. You go through it alone too often."
Hadn't she just been thinking the same thing? "It doesn't matter. It's over now, I'm not pregnant."
"You don't seem very happy about it."
Another glare. "Of course I'm happy about it!" she yelled, swinging her sake cup in the air, then cursing as the liquid spilled all over the bar and her fingers. "I'm celebrating, aren't I?"
"Are you? Usually people celebrate with others. And usually they look happy, Ran-chan. You just look disturbed."
She threw back the remainder of the sake, then stared into the empty bottle for a while. "Yeah, well, maybe being pregnant wouldn't have been the worst thing in the world," she said finally. "Maybe it would have been a blessing in disguise."
"Who is he, Ran-chan?"
A dry laugh. "Oh, no, I can't tell you that. Ask anything but that. He's a pipe dream and a mirage and I'm the fool who fell for it all."
"Ah, great, you're at the poetic stage of drunk already. This ought to be good," Nanao sniped, ordering two waters and thrusting one in her hands. "Drink. And keep talking. Tell me why you can't tell me."
"Because no one can know. Because it would ruin us—ruin him. And I love him, Nanao. God help me, but I do. And he deserves better. Better than me, better than this. And I deserve better, too."
"Have you told him you love him yet?"
"Yeah."
Nanao seemed surprised. "And?"
"And I don't think he heard me. It doesn't matter anyway. Nothing matters, except maybe we can still be friends. Maybe things can go back to the way they were. But only if . . . ."
"Only if you do something stupid?"
"You see too much, Nanao."
"I just know you too well."
At least someone did. They sat in silence for a while, Rangiku begrudgingly drinking her water, hoping it wouldn't yank her out of the blissful oblivion she was starting to fall into.
"Do you like sex, Nanao?" she asked finally.
Insta-blush. "Rangiku-san! You can't ask people something like that! Especially not in public!" she hissed. "And I told you before, it doesn't have to feel cheap. It can be kind of beautiful, actually."
"Look at you, the closet romantic. Shunsui's that good?"
Another blush, a pause, and then a frank look. "Oh, hell yeah."
Even Rangiku blushed. "Really? I mean, I don't really want details, but what's so great about it?"
"Besides the obvious? It's that it's him. Talking with him, laughing with him—mostly at him—falling asleep with him. Waking up wrapped in his arms. It's the closeness, Ran-chan. The way his attention is focused solely on you." She paused. "Or it can be, if it's the right guy and not someone you picked up at a bar."
Rangiku slumped. She'd been getting hopeful, but Nanao was romanticizing just a tad too much. She just couldn't be right. "Even good guys can be picked up at bars, Nanao. And, even with good guys, it can be cheap."
Despite her words, images were popping up in her head. Her taichou, holding her close. Her taichou, focused solely on her—not on paperwork, or training, or his past, or guilt, but completely in the moment. With her. Her taichou, wrapping his arms around her as they drifted off to sleep. It seemed too good to be true, but oh, would it be good.
It made a girl understand why others went for it, why they opened themselves up when they knew heartache was all but a foregone conclusion. The prize for winning was just that tempting. It was irrational. Ridiculous, really, but love was a fool's game after all.
And she was the biggest fool of all—the thing that tempted her most, his touch, was the very thing that haunted her.
"Oh, Nanao," she moaned, laying her head on the other woman's shoulder. "This could be a disaster! It might just make things worse! It could all blow up in my face!"
"It might."
So much for words of encouragement. "What'll I do then?"
"Probably what you're doing now."
Good point. Worse would just be more of the same.
Hitsugaya shunpoed across town, landing on roofs, telephone poles, anything wide enough to fit his foot. And, let's be honest—he had a pretty small foot.
The rumors of the hollows organizing seemed to be true. At any rate, they were pouring into Karakura Town in droves, and at higher and higher levels. In two days, he'd personally killed six Menos. That just wasn't normal.
But there was no hint of an actual plan, and not one glimpse of the leader. As Kurosaki had said, it just didn't seem like Grimmjow's style. But if not him, who?
Spiritual pressure spiked ahead of him, and he mustered up a burst of speed, arriving just in time to save Kurosaki's foolish life. He took down the adjuchas rushing for Kurosaki's back as the teen fought three more in front of him.
"Thanks, Toushirou!"
He grunted, not bothering to correct the idiot any more. He never learned. And maybe having someone around who didn't scrape and bow every time they saw him wasn't a bad thing. He shook himself. When did he start getting soft?
The truth was, he'd always been soft. Too soft, too nostalgic, too susceptible to the demons in his head. So he closed himself off, locked himself away, hid behind an icy façade so thick he thought he was safe. But he wasn't. That ice was melting, and despite Ukitake's and Matsumoto's and—God—Hinamori's statements to the contrary, he wasn't sure that was a good thing. His old self would never have hurt Matsumoto. But his old self couldn't fix things either. And so he had to melt more, when melting was the cause of it all.
They still hadn't set a date for this ridiculous plan. She'd used up enough of her courage asking him in the first place; he knew the next steps would fall on him. But he didn't want to think about that right now.
He focused on the hollows instead, which were everywhere. Like gray hairs, every time they killed one, two more appeared to take its place. They were weaklings, mostly. Easy to kill. But the sheer numbers were so high that, even with their entire force fighting at full power, they couldn't contain them. Hitsugaya sent a few ice dragons out, freezing a swath of the pests in their tracks, but it wasn't enough. He cursed his own abilities, which weren't really suited to fighting with allies; most of his bankai level techniques could kill massive amounts of enemies, but they didn't discriminate between friend and foe. He might as well be fighting with one hand tied behind his back and a blindfold on.
He caught Urahara's eye, and could tell the older man was having the same thought. They needed to split up.
No sooner were they making their move than the sky split open, and who should come out of the garganta but a familiar, mocking face complete with skeletal jaw.
"It's been a long time, Shinigami. So nice of you to put out the welcome mat for me," Grimmjow drawled,
Kurosaki shot toward Grimmjow, who didn't react, swinging his zanpaktou down in what looked to be a fatal blow. Just before it connected, a tiny masked head popped over Grimmjow's shoulder.
"Itsygo!" the miniature arrancar squealed, throwing itself at Kurosaki, who could do nothing but gape.
"N-nel?"
Hitsugaya, assuming Kurosaki had foolishly gotten himself into trouble again, quickly engaged Grimmjow before the former espada could take advantage of the teen's openings.
"Bankai!" he roared, shunpoing to a spot directly between Kurosaki and the threat.
Grimmjow turned toward him with a feral grin. "It's rude to interrupt a reunion, Shinigami. I ought to teach you some manners."
"And sending hundreds of hollow to the World of the Living to prey on the helpless is polite?" Hitsugaya shot back.
The former espada's eyes narrowed. "I knew you'd blame that on me."
"Are you trying to say you had nothing to do with it?"
"Would you believe me if I did?"
He paused. Maybe. "Probably not."
"Then what are we wasting time talkin' for?"
Hitsugaya nodded, and they both lunged forward, zanpaktou clanging as they connected, resonating with the resolution to kill.
They were evenly matched. Hitsugaya jumped back, assessing his opponent and planning his next move. Just as he took his next strike, Kurosaki popped up in front of his blade.
"Stop!" the idiot screamed, waving his arms.
Hitsugaya struggled to divert his momentum, missing the teen by inches. "What the hell is wrong with you, Kurosaki?"
"Get out of the way!" Grimmjow screamed, whacking Kurosaki to the side with one arm and using the other to strike Hitsugaya's zanpaktou again.
But Hitsugaya hadn't reformed his attack yet. He hadn't been a threat. Grimmjow could have easily run Kurosaki through and still had time to regroup before Hitsugaya was on him. He was that fast. So why hadn't he?
Years of experience had taught Hitsugaya to trust his instincts, which were currently screaming that Grimmjow wasn't what he appeared. Disengaging, he invoked three binding kidou in quick succession.
The former Sexta dropped out of the sky and landed in a bush, bitching the whole time but unable to get free.
"Now," Hitsugaya said, turning to the substitute, "what the hell was so important that you felt the need to jump in front of my zanpaktou in the middle of a fight?"
Instead of looking ashamed, Kurosaki was staring down at the squirming Grimmjow and looking vaguely impressed. "You think I can really learn that kidou stuff?"
Hitsugaya felt that vein start to throb in his temple again. If this kept up, he was going to have a full on migraine. "Focus, Substitute. Why'd you try to stop the fight?"
That tiny masked head popped up again, this time from behind Kurosaki's shoulder. Closer up, Hitsugaya could see that it was what looked like an arrancar child. Best not to underestimate it, though—he couldn't help but think of Yachiru.
"We're not your enemies!" the little girl sang, snot running from her nose. She sniffed it back in, and Kurosaki winced.
"Gross," the teen muttered, leaning his head in the other direction.
Hitsugaya looked from one to the other, still trying to figure out what the hell was going on.
"Don't lie to them, Nelliel. Of course we're their enemies!" Grimmjow shouted, finally ridding himself of the bindings and struggling in vain to crawl out of the bushes.
Hitsugaya brought Hyourinmaru to the ready.
"I'll never stop until I prove I'm stronger than all of you Shinigami! Combined!" the crazy man cackled, skeletal jaw grotesque as it flapped in concert with his own. He sobered just as quickly as he'd lost it. "But we'll have to test our strength another day. Today, we're on your side."
"We're allies again, Itsygo!" Nel squealed, grabbing big handfuls of orange hair and pulling until Kurosaki cringed.
"Why should we believe that?" Hitsugaya snapped, ignoring the child's antics.
"Because you've already figured out for yourself that I'm not behind the hollow invasions—else you wouldn't've hesitated."
Perceptive. Dangerous.
"Even assuming that's true, why would you help us?"
"I want to take down who's really behind them even more than you do."
Hitsugaya's eyes flashed. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend?"
"Oh, I'll always be your enemy, Shinigami. I'm just not going to kill you today."
"Brave words from someone who was felled by a bush," Kurosaki taunted, dropping softly to the ground and hauling Grimmjow out of the shrubbery.
"Better a bush than a child!" the former espada snapped back, pushing Kurosaki's hands away and punching him in the gut.
"Ah, it's so nice to see them getting along!" Urahara mocked, coming up from behind him. "I'll clean up here. Why don't you take everyone back to my shop to get settled in? It sounds like the arrancar have a story or two to tell."
Hitsugaya looked at two of the strongest mortal enemies any of the worlds had ever seen, rough-housing like schoolboys on a playground. He looked at the green-haired arrancar child who had latched on to his leg and was currently drooling on his haori and wiping her nose on it at the same time. He looked at the conniving old man who was grinning widely as he set plans into motion that would send countless lives spinning off of their trajectories. He sighed.
It was going to be one hell of a long day.
But on the bright side, he hadn't thought of the mess with Matsumoto once.
Oh. Well, shit.
A/N:
Hello? (echo echo echo). Um, sorry for the wait, folks. Blame it on NaNoWrimo, Christmas, and well, lack of inspiration on my part. But it's baa-aaack (and long)! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter and it wasn't too disjointed, and please, please review to let me know you're still reading!
~bandgirlz~