Chapter Twelve
The attack came out of nowhere. Toushirou and Rangiku were walking out of a restaurant when the reiatsu hit, a surge so potent it made even his head swim. Yammy.
He couldn't pop his gikongan before an arrancar's zanpaktou slashed him across the chest.
"Toushirou!" Rangiku screamed, rushing to his side.
He just snorted, glancing down at the tiny gash. It was no bigger than a paper cut—okay, maybe that was an exaggeration, but it wasn't very big at all.. He looked up at the hollow that'd attacked, a pint-sized perfect replica of Szayel Aporro-Grantz.
Ishida, who'd appeared across the street in time to see the attack, gaped at him. "What happened? Kurotsuchi-taichou almost died killing Szayel last time! How could his full attack leave only a scratch?"
Toushirou heard a cackle and glanced up to see Grimmjow leaning up against a signpost. Within seconds, the rest of the team arrived, surrounding him and Rangiku, staring up at Yammy, Szayel, and Nnoitra in the sky.
Grimmjow laughed again, drawing his sword. "That's not Szayel."
"What are you talking about?" Rukia demanded, settling into defensive position. "It looks exactly like him."
The former Sexta snarled. "Yeah, well, looks can be deceiving. Feel his reiatsu. Is that the same?"
"It's so much weaker!" Inoue gasped. "And it feels different, too."
Toushirou took pity on them as he popped his gikongan and drew Hyourinmaru. "It's a hollow version of Szayel's dominant soul, but it's not Szayel. Arrancar are nothing but amalgamations of other hollows. In the conversion from Menos to Adjuchas, one soul becomes dominant, but the power comes from all the souls combined. When an arrancar is killed, each of those souls is freed and sent back into the reincarnation cycle. So arrancar can't be remade, because you can never recreate the exact combination of souls. Too get strong again, that hollow would have to eat a million other hollow, and transform into a Menos, and then an adjuchas, and then a vasto lorde. And there's no telling that it wouldn't meet with a stronger soul that would become dominant, such that the ending vasto lorde would have an entirely different personality."
"Know-it-all," Grimmjow snorted. "The point is, Yammy's a dumbass, and his army is nothing but cannon fodder."
"Oh. Is that why they're so useless?" Yammy asked from his position high in the sky over Karakura town. "In that case," he trailed off, turning in the direction of Szayel and Nnoitra. He shot off a single cero, completely obliterating them both.
Toushirou tensed, rethinking his assumption that this was going to be an easy battle. Not even an idiot would demolish his own army, weak or not, without an ace in the hole.
Just as he thought it, a garganta opened. Through it burst a hundred or so Adjuchas. And one child-sized arrancar with coffee-colored skin and a bone visor over his eyes.
Fuck.
He'd never considered that. A shinigami's powers came from his own soul and were as present in the reincarnation as they'd been in the original.
"Matsumoto!" he snapped, reverting to form.
"Hai, taichou!" He wasn't the only one.
"Can I leave this to you?"
She nodded. With that, he shunpoed to the perimeter. Urahara met him there.
They were everywhere. Every time Haineko took down one, two more seemed to pop up in its place.
Ishida was spewing countless arrows toward the Adjuchas, thinning out their numbers, and even Inoue was fighting, but they just kept coming.
Ichigo was battling Yammy, and Rukia and Renji had Tousen surrounded, dodging attacks from the child but not sending any back. Rangiku couldn't blame them. How were they supposed to fight children?
And where the hell was Toushirou? He'd been gone for nearly half an hour already, and Urahara was nowhere to be found, either. She couldn't even sense their reiatsu.
Just as she thought it, an icy wind swirled around her, bitter and comforting at the same time, because she knew that wind.
He appeared next to her in full bankai. "All right, Matsumoto?"
"Hai!" she replied, ignoring the gash in her shoulder and the slashes on her forearms—they were her own fault for letting the enemy get too close.
His eyes met hers, sheer determination frozen in aquamarine. "Get them out of the way."
She cocked her head, but he was gone, shooting into the air. "Kurosaki!" he snapped. "Fall back!"
Simultaneously, Urahara materialized at the other end of the battle, behind Renji and Rukia. Rangiku saw him yell something, but she couldn't hear it. As Renji and Rukia took two steps back, her haze lifted and she surged into motion, wrapping Haineko's ash around her like a shield and dragging Ishida, Chad, and Orihime away. The remaining hollow surged after them.
"What are you doing?" Ishida snapped, struggling to get away from her.
She didn't let go. "Just watch."
As they looked on, Renji and Rukia slid into battle formation side by side.
"Hikoutsu Taihou!" Renji yelled, hurling his snake-shaped bankai toward the mass of Adjuchas launching toward the place where Rangiku protected the humans. Red light passed from segment to segment, finally firing out of the snake's mouth in a huge ball of fire, taking out all the hollow it it's path.
"Tsugi no mai, Hakuren!" Rukia yelled at the same time, and a cylinder of ice shot out of her zanpaktou, freezing another swath of hollows.
Twenty or so managed to avoid the attacks.
"Getsuga Tenhou!"
"Neko Rinbu!"
Ichigo and Rangiku took out the remainder on the ground. Just as they did, the sky went dark, and Rangiku's eyes jumped to her former taichou.
"Sennen Hyourou!" Huge columns of ice sprung up around the makeshift battlefield, just shy of where Rangiku and the humans were standing. Toushirou turned his Hyourinmaru ninety degrees to the right, as if he were turning a key in a lock, and the columns began to revolve, swirling ever closer to their target.
"Shibari, Benihime!" A blood red net extended from the tip of Urahara's zanpaktou, shooting out and settling over Tousen just as the great columns of ice slid closed, trapping Tousen, Yammy, and the remainder of the Adjuchas inside.
Rukia and Toushirou swept their zanpaktou through the air, shattering the ice at the same time so that it rained down on them, tiny fragments glittering in the light of the sun.
The ice settled on Toushirou's shoulders and in his hair, and as his eyes met hers, burning with passion, Rangiku gasped.
He was magnificent.
The Adjuchas were gone, shattered with the ice, but the net and a critically injured Yammy remained. As Urahara grabbed the net holding Tousen in its grasp, Yammy stepped through a Garganta and disappeared.
Cats liked to cuddle. Toushirou found this out the hard way. He was slumped on the floor in Urahara's shop with the rest of the team, trying to figure out what the hell to do now, when a freshly-healed Rangiku walked into the room and curled up beside him.
Better her than Grimmjow.
She leaned her head on his shoulder, so naturally he wrapped an arm around her waist and tugged her into his side.
He didn't think anything of it until he noticed the others had stopped talking to gape at them. Rangiku must have realized it at the same time, because she blushed and shifted, starting to move away. He had a choice. He could drop his arm, let her sit up, make some sarcastic comment to diffuse the tension.
Or he could keep holding the woman he loved. No contest. He tightened his grip to stop her from leaving and sat back to bask in the silence.
Kurosaki was the first to break it. "You . . . y-you two are . . . ?"
He heard Rangiku roll her eyes. "Sleeping together? Yes. Yes, we are."
That didn't sound right. It make her sound loose, him sound lecherous. It made their . . . situation . . . seem cheap and tawdry, when really they just . . . were. Things just worked, they were just right. And no matter what, Matsumoto Rangiku was no one's easy lay.
He hugged her closer, kissed the top of her head, showed the others in deed what he couldn't seem to express in words. She was essential to him. And whatever they were, well, it was so much more than "sleeping together."
After the debriefing, they went back to Toushirou's apartment and they both called Soul Society—Toushirou to deliver a preliminary report on the incident, and Rangiku to explain why she hadn't reported to work that afternoon as scheduled (not that she thought she'd been missed).
"All set!" she chirped as she snapped her soul phone closed and walked into the bedroom—or tried. She only made it to the doorway before she stopped short, mesmerized by the view.
Toushirou was barefoot, lounging on the bed with his arms folded behind his head and tufts of snow white hair obscuring his face. She knew he wished he was looking at the sky instead of the ceiling, and she had the sudden urge to put a skylight in their bedroom when they got back in Soul Society. For once, she didn't try to suppress thoughts of a future with him, a real relationship; he'd acknowledged her, in front of a room full of their peers. She'd never imagined that.
At her words, he turned his head, and her world narrowed to a sea of blue-green. Kami, he was hot, all relaxed and lazy like this. With the battle fought and won, with nothing to do but celebrate and prove they were still alive.
"So?" he murmured, raising his left eyebrow at her.
"Juu-kun says it's fine if I stay another day. I'll go back with you in the morning for the taichou/fukutaichou meeting."
His right eyebrow flew up to join the left. "Juu-kun?"
Oops. "Hehe, yeah, we're pretty casual. Anyway," she lowered her voice to a drawl, "for tonight, I'm all yours."
"Is that so?" He smirked, reaching out a hand to beckon her closer. The effect was devastating.
She stalked toward the bed, pulling her t-shirt over her head. Her fingers moved to button of her jeans, but she paused, noticing that he was staring at her chest in a way that, for him, wasn't normal.
"Toushirou?"
"What's that?" he mumbled, nodding to her chest.
"What's what?" she asked, looking down. "I don't see anything strange, what are you talk—ohh!" She squealed, practically jumping up and down. This was just too good. "Toushirou, you've never seen a bra before!"
"I—" he blushed. "Shut up! What is that thing?"
She grinned. "So innocent, Toushirou!"
His face turned red. "You know I'm not." He crossed his arms and looked away from her, and she bit her tongue. No use rubbing a sore spot.
"It's an undergarment. It keeps the girls lifted and separated for maximum cleavage and minimum bounce! All human women wear them!" She thought about that. "Well, all decent human women!"
"Then how come I've never seen it?"
She shrugged. "We forgot to take off our gigai. I don't need it in my shihakusho." She fished around for her gikongan. "Should I—"
"No!"
Her eyes jumped to his, but he was too busy staring at her chest to notice.
"Toushirou?"
He swallowed, audibly. "Leave it."
She cocked her head at him. "But—"
He met her gaze then, and her ears popped from the pure desire he was projecting. He motioned her forward, reaching up to run two fingers along the line where cloth met skin. "Sometimes hidden is sexier than revealed, Rangiku."
Apparently.
She moaned, shoving off her jeans and sitting down on the bed in her underwear as he thrust his hands into the cups of her bra, eyes on hers as he caressed what he couldn't see. Kami, how she loved this man. He was so composed, so inscrutable, even in bed. She knew he liked sex, appreciated her body, but he gave her the same approving-but-reserved reaction no matter what she did. Finding something that really got him really got her.
She glanced down at his obscenely tight pants that left nothing to the imagination.
She ran a finger over the tell-tale bulge, grinning when he groaned. "Such a pervert, Toushirou!"
Instead of denying it, like she expected, he rolled his eyes at her. "Every man is a pervert, Rangiku. Some of us just hide it better than others."
She burst out laughing and tackled him.
Toushirou braced himself as she dove on top of him. Silly woman. He fumbled with the absurd latching mechanism of this "bra." It was one of the sexiest things he'd ever seen, but now he wanted it gone. She was too busy taking his clothes off to help, not that he wanted her to stop. He finally managed to unhook it, and then she was tugging it off her arms and dropping it on the floor, and his hands were full of the most beautiful breasts in Soul Society. He cupped them, feeling their heft, wondering how she managed to carry all that around every day without tipping over. No wonder she complained—not that that made it appropriate. He stroked the incredibly soft skin, running his thumbs back and forth against her nipples until she moaned and arched into the touch.
Encouraged, he wriggled around until she was leaning over him, and sucked one of the nipples into his mouth as he continued torturing the other with endless flicks and tugs. She writhed then, calling his name—Taichou, not Toushirou—and her fingers reached blindly for his zipper.
He pulled away then, stopping her. "Careful," he murmured, gingerly pulling the zipper down and letting his cock and balls spill out into sweet, sweet freedom. He kicked the pants off.
"Toushirou! Commando?"
"Huh?" He buried his face back in her breasts.
"You're supposed to wear boxers!"
He threw her a look. "You think boxers are going to fit in these pants?"
She slid down his body, pushing him until he rolled over onto his back and then rising above him. "So hot, Toushirou," she groaned as she took him in hand and swallowed him whole.
White light blinded him, and for a moment he thought he was in his inner world, but instead of bitter cold, there was an all-consuming heat. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he was pretty sure he was screaming as she sucked him, driving him crazy with lips and tongue and hot, sweet pressure.
He'd never let her do this before. She'd tried a couple times, but he'd stopped her, knowing this act, in particular, was associated with some of her worst memories. But now he had to believe she'd moved past that. They'd been fucking like bunnies for months now, and he'd never pressured her to do anything she hesitated about. If she wanted to do this, all the better for him.
He slid shaking fingers into the silken strands at the nape of her neck, petting rather than guiding, showing her how much this meant to him, how good it felt. And when the pleasure began to overwhelm him and he felt that tickle at the base of his hips that meant the end was in sight, he gave her hair a quick tug and then swooped down, capturing her lips in his.
"Mmmm," she murmured when they stopped to catch their breath. "Toushirou, you taste good."
She tasted better.
He'd waited too long to stop her. Desperate, he slid one hand between her legs, checking her readiness. Molten silk. He circled her clit once, twice, then plunged two fingers into her weeping slit. She clutched his arms, gasping.
"Now!" she demanded, nails biting into his skin. "Please."
He started to pull her on top of him.
"Not like that."
He tried to search her eyes through his lust-fueled haze. "How, then?"
She raised herself on hands and knees. "Behind me."
"Rangiku, I—" Her pleading gaze cut him off. "All right, whatever you want."
They hadn't done it like this since that time he wished they could both forget. As he settled himself behind her, he whispered, "if you need me to stop—"
"I won't."
"—promise me you'll say so."
She hesitated. "I will. Now hurry!"
He stroked her clit again, held onto her breasts as the best-ever anchor, and slid into heaven.
Rangiku moaned as he drove all the way home and her muscles struggled to accommodate his girth. "Kami-sama," she cursed, biting her lip. "So deep this way."
One hand moved from her breast to stroke her belly, as Toushirou draped himself over her back and kissed her shoulder. "Okay?"
Better than okay. It was fantastic. "Yeah."
Then he began to move, and she wondered if she'd made a horrible mistake. It felt wonderful, as always, the thrust and drag of nerve on nerve, the delicious contrast between full, so full, and then so very very empty.
But she had no power this way. When she was on top, she chose the pace, the rhythm, the depth. Now he had complete control, and she was just along for the ride. Her fingers clawed at the covers, unable to find purchase, and a sob rose up in her throat. Control wasn't that big of a deal, it would all be fine if she could just see him, but she couldn't, and he could be anyone behind her, any one of a number of nameless, faceless men who had used her body for their own pleasure or wanted to. She felt for his reiatsu, but it was suppressed, trapped behind his iron walls and the gigai.
She sniffled and a tear trickled down her cheek. It was too stupid. It was him, of course it was him, it wasn't like he'd waited until she couldn't see him to switch with some other guy. That was crazy. She choked back a sob.
He paused, halfway inside her. "Rangiku?"
There, that was better. The panic thinned out a bit.
"Rangiku, are you all right?"
No, but she wasn't going to let on how crazy she was. He didn't need to know that.
His quiet tone did her in. "Rangiku, you promised."
She let out the sob she'd been holding back. "I'm okay, taichou," she whispered, "really, just keep talking to me. I know it doesn't make sense, but I need to know it's you."
She shivered instantly, as he dropped his barriers and frigid, familiar reiatsu overwhelmed her senses.
"You're so beautiful," he murmured in her ear, nipping the lobe. "So hot and tight and wet for me. Fit me like a glove, Ran, a hot, wet, silken glove." He circled his hips, grinding against her walls. "You feel what you do to me? You know how hard it is to control myself when we're around the others? I get hard just listening to your voice."
And she was ready to come, just from his. She'd never imagined such things coming out of his mouth. "Taichou," she moaned, pushing back against him.
"That's right, take what you want," he whispered, his breath tickling the tiny nerves in her ears, driving her wild.
"So close, taichou. Please!"
He sped up his thrusts, slamming in all the way and drawing almost all the way out before he slammed in again. Fingers pinched her nipple, hard, as others pressed directly on her clit.
"Come then," he commanded, sucking a mark on her shoulder.
Rangiku screamed, convulsing as wave after wave of sensation washed over her, almost too intense to be pleasure. Almost.
She hardly noticed when her spasms sent him over the edge, screaming out her name and clutching her tight enough to leave bruises. Good. She wanted to feel him tomorrow. Wanted to feel him always.
She began to slump over, then shot back to her knees. "Fuck!"
"Wha—?" Toushirou gasped, jolting upright too, voice lazy and confused. "What's wrong."
She ought to be shot. Just because things were going well didn't mean he wanted to be tied to her for life. She was so stupid! "Forgot the condom," she said in a small voice.
He chuckled, kissing her shoulder again and pulling her back into his arms and down onto the comfort of the mattress. "You forgot. I didn't."
She turned in his arms, kissing his eyes, his nose, his chin, before settling on his lips. Oh, thank kami. Always taking care of her.
As she drifted off to sleep, she murmured under her breath, "So good to me, Toushirou. I love you."
A/N:
Sorry this one took so long! It was a transitional chapter to get to the next (which is what the cliffhanger from last chapter is referring to, I know, sorry), which is almost done and should be up soon. I suck (repeat, suck) at writing battle scenes, so I procrastinated fuhevuh on it, and then spent a week or two scrapping every word I wrote. But here it is, and feel free to suggest tips on writing more effective fighting scenes...Lord knows I need them...
Thanks for reading, and please review! I seem to get double the reviews on my HitsuKarin story that I get on this, I don't know if it's because it's T or people just like the pairing better, but can I get some HitsuMatsu love up in here?
Love you guys.