Chapter Thirteen

Matsumoto practically bounced into the taichou/fukutaichou meeting, two steps behind the man who would always be the taichou of her heart. Sure, he kept walking to his spot and she had to stop and slide into place behind Ukitake, but not for long. She was thinking about asking Toushirou if she could come back to the Tenth. Things were going better than ever between them; they had obviously resolved their sexual tension, and after their talk last week—and the incredibleness of last night—their rapport was back, too. Whatever Toushirou's misguided reasons for transferring her to begin with, there was no reason everything couldn't go back to normal.

He glanced at her through his lashes as he took his spot between Shunsui and Kurotsuchi-taichou, and she fought to keep the blush off her face. He'd been giving her stray glances all morning, and she couldn't figure out what was going on. The night before had rocked her world, and she supposed she'd been kind of aggressive. But she'd had to be! She loved how gentle he was with her, ever since their redo. Feeling those calloused hands that could punch through solid ice holding her so carefully, stroking her so softly, was as moving as it was sweet. But sometimes a girl just needed to be grabbed and taken and objectified, and it was a sign of how comfortable she'd become with him that she trusted him enough to ask. The result had been better than her wildest dreams. He was a sex-machine and a sweetheart, and she wanted to be by his side forever, in more ways than one.

Having some other captain's back . . . well, frankly, it sucked. Even if it was Juu-kun. Transferring out of the Tenth had shaken the foundation of Rangiku's perfect little world, but at least she didn't have a hard time holding her head up at meetings like this. At first she'd worried everyone would think Hitsugaya had finally had it with her, but she quickly learned he'd spun some elaborate tale to take care of that. Something about focusing more on the real world and Ukitake needing help.

That should have been her warning.

Rangiku zoned out during most of the meeting, tuning back in to report what she'd seen of Yammy's plans and the escalating crisis in the World of the Living. She was about to fall asleep with her eyes wide open when the Soutaichou asked Toushirou to step forward.

"Hitsugaya-taichou, do you have anything to add to Matsumoto-fukutaichou's account?"

"No, Soutaichou," he declared, nodding at her. She smiled, taking it for the compliment she knew it was.

"Then give us the rundown on your mission," Yamamoto continued. "Have you come to a conclusion about how we should proceed as to one Kurosaki Ichigo, Substitute Shinigami of Karakura town?"

"I have."

Matsumoto rolled her eyes. Save her from old men and their useless formality. Or, in Toushirou's case, young men, she thought, biting back a giggle.

"Proceed."

He cleared his throat. "Kurosaki is a wildcard, but he doesn't have to be. He's powerful, headstrong, and as we can all attest, courageous to the point of stupidity. I've spent the last few months teaching him kidou, along with other disciplines he is lacking, and while his progress is slow, it has been steady. Kurosaki has the capacity for greatness. With a little training and a lot of oversight, he will make a great captain one day."

Toushirou paused, looking around the room. "But not today. He has much to learn, and while his position as an outsider has at times provided an important check on both Central 46 and the Gotei 13, it has outgrown its usefulness. In order to harness his strengths while minimizing risk, I recommend that Ich—that Kurosaki be brought into the Gotei 13 and trained as a seated officer. To that end, with the Soutaichou's permission, I am making Kurosaki Ichigo fukutaichou of the Tenth Squad."

Rangiku swallowed her tongue, numbness washing over her. She couldn't even finish a thought in her head, let alone speak. While the whole room looked at her, she couldn't even glance in his direction.

What?

Yamamoto banged his cane on the floor. "It shall be done."

What was left of Rangiku's heart crumbled into a million specks of ash. Fitting.

Around her, the meeting came to a close, but for Rangiku, time crashed to a halt.

It was over. He didn't want her back—he was replacing her. And yet again, he hadn't cared enough to tell her to her face.

As the other officers lingered in the doorway, he rushed away, checking his phone, and the clock started again.

"Why, Toushirou?" she demanded, racing after him. "Just tell me why!"

"It's for the best." He sounded confused, conflicted, and she hated him for it.

She shunpoed in front of him, cutting him off. "It's for the best? Nineteen years, and you give me it's for the best? Toushirou—" She realized she was screaming and people were looking, and she lowered her voice to hiss, "Hitsugaya-taichou, I think you owe me a little more of an explanation than that!" Her voice broke. "What did I do to make you not want me any more?" Their eyes met, hers clouded with tears, and he sighed, a long-suffering sound that made her feel worse than she did already.

"Ran," he began, voice gentle, "I—" he broke off as his phone beeped for the fifth time in two minutes. He pulled it out, making her glare, but the anger turned to worry as his eyes narrowed and he stepped around her, one hand on Hyourinmaru's hilt. "It's a 911, Matsumoto, I have to go. We can finish this later."

Instantly on alert, she raced after him, but he proved that he'd been holding back for her sake all these years, for he easily outpaced her. When she reached the senkaimon, he was already gone, but she charged ahead, drawing Haineko, determined to be ready for anything when she made it to the other side. The shiny metal of the sword caught her attention, and she stopped short.

Knowledge took time to build, wisdom, decades. But sometimes understanding could come in an instant. As Rangiku looked into her reflection in Haineko's blade, she finally saw what the signs had been pointing to all along.

What am I doing?

If he'd needed her help, he would have asked for it. How long had they been holding each other back, how long would it continue? How long could she keep on pretending that this was enough and trying to convince herself that it was more than it was, more than just sex? How long could she pretend that this was different, that it wasn't history repeating itself over and over until nothing of her was left?

Never again. I swore I would never again chase after someone who turned his back on me.

Things were never going to change. They were never going to be more, never going to be a real couple. She'd been throwing herself at him, and he'd been taking what he wanted and rejecting the rest. He'd just been nicer about it than most guys. This was it, the turning point. She could follow him now, follow him forever, and die inside trying to be content with what he was willing to give her, or she could turn around, walk away, and perhaps salvage some part of her spirit, some tiny piece of her soul that didn't already belong to him.

She took one more look at her reflection, and she turned around.

And saw the Cleaner.

"Damn it!" she cursed, whirling back around and racing for the other side. So much for dramatic realizations. She'd have to follow him after all, but she wouldn't have to stay. She'd just say goodbye.

He hadn't expected her to be so upset; she couldn't have believed he'd keep that spot open forever. He was crippling himself without a second, and putting Ichigo in the position just made tactical sense. If she wasn't so emotional all the time, she'd realize it.

Too bad he liked her emotions, especially when they inspired her to do things like declare her love for him. Did everything have to be a double-edged sword?

Toushirou stepped out of the senkaimon in front of Urahara's shop and what he felt made him blanch. He slammed into the shop, wishing for all of his might that he was wrong.

He wasn't.

"KUROSAKI!" he roared, stalking toward the orange-haired teen, "Where did you find her? Take her back! Take her back where you found her right now!"

The little girl wobbled over to him, tugging on his obi. He flinched, backing away from her like she was a demon instead of a two-year old. Startled, she fell down and began to cry.

Rukia swept the child into her arms and comforted her, glaring at Hitsugaya the whole while. "Shhh, it's okay. Don't worry about him, he's just an old grump, that's all."

"No!" the child whined, leaning away from Rukia and stretching her arms toward Hitsugaya. "Down!"

Rukia let her down, and she ran back to him. He looked down at the little girl staring up at him with big brown eyes. Big, brown, familiar eyes. Suddenly the kid latched onto his leg and squealed "Shee-o-chan!"

He glared at Kurosaki, unable to keep the pain and betrayal off of his face. The idiot was too busy gaping to notice.

"W-we didn't tell her, Toushirou," he stammered. "I promise. Hell, we've only had her ten minutes! Rukia and I have been with her the whole time, and no one's even mentioned you!"

"You mean . . . ." he trailed off, horrified and hopeful and horrified at his hopefulness.

". . . she remembers?" Rangiku whispered.

He flinched. He hadn't even realized his former fukutaichou was behind him. He detached Momo's reincarnation from his leg, handed her to Rangiku, and promptly collapsed to the floor.

"Toushirou!"

"Hitsugaya-taichou!"

Ichigo and Rukia rushed to help him, but he just held up his hands and huddled there on the ground, trying to keep his hands from shaking.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

Momo was supposed to be safe.

Rangiku caught the child, steadying her, and looked from the girl to her crumpled up, broken taichou, and back again. Her resolve cracked.

Former taichou. Permanently. This was unexpected, but it changed nothing. Hating herself, hating him, hating this situation and the choice she had to make, she set the child down and turned back to Toushirou.

"I'm going back to Soul Society."

His eyes widened and his hands fell away from his face. "But you just got here!" His expression evened out. "Oh, you forgot something?"

She shook her head. "I'm not coming back, Toushirou." Her heart contracted as his expression went from shock to grief to careful blankness.

"Why?" he asked, pinning her with his enigmatic gaze.

She looked away, turned around, unable to face him and say this. "What are we doing, Toushirou?" she asked instead of answering. "What is this thing?"

He blinked. "I don't know."

She closed her eyes, wishing he would give her a reason to stay, knowing it was futile. "Exactly. This thing between us, whatever it is, we knew it couldn't last forever."

The blankness faded away and he looked so lost. His eyes jumped from her, to Momo's reincarnation, and back to her. "You're leaving me now?"

She couldn't reply. Did he think she wanted to? She loved him, and all she wanted to do was rush over and hold him in her arms and wipe that lost look off his face by telling him it was all going to be okay.

"Rangiku?"

Tears streamed down her face. "Don't, Toushirou. Don't ask me to stay if you can't promise me anything. I can't bear it."

"Ran."

She flashed away before the grief brought her to her knees.

Rangiku, don't leave! He wanted to yell, he wanted to run after her, hell, he wanted to freeze her in place and take his sweet time about it. But he had a bawling two-year-old tugging on his arms and no idea what to do about it, and seriously, she had to pick that moment to throw a hissy fit and storm off?

But he knew it was more than a hissy fit. This wasn't his fukutaichou Matsumoto whining and stomping and slamming things around until he agreed to give her a day off or a raise or whatever it was she wanted that day. This was his lover walking out on him, and her words rang true. She meant them.

She'd finally left him.

I thought you loved me.

Just then, Urahara burst into the room, covered in sweat. "What took you so long?" he demanded, panting. "I've been paging you for half an hour!"

"I was in a meeting," Toushirou groused, "what do you want from me? Besides, this is the worst thing that could have happened, but it's hardly an emergency." He gestured toward the next generation of his childhood friend.

The shopkeeper's eyes narrowed. "Who's that?"

Toushirou froze. "You mean Momo isn't the reason you've been paging me?"

"Tousen's missing."

A/N:

Dun dun dun! So, sorry this took much longer than promised and is shorter than you've come to expect. I just couldn't find a way to make it longer without taking away from the intensity, which I hope shines through. As for the timing, well, suffice it to say my life is a mess right now. I just left one job, moved across the country to a big city that feels horribly uncomfortable and anonymous, and started a new job (today in fact!). In between, I took my first trip to Japan, which I can now confirm is one of the coolest countries in the world, and then came back and had a near-crippling bout of depression over the lack of coolness of my country and my life. Okay, so the depression may have been (still be?) about something else, but it was, unfortunately, all too real. Anyway, TMI, I know, the point is just that my rollercoaster emotional state and way-too-busy real life have been making it hard to write at all, let alone write something I'm happy enough with to publish. I'm still working on this story and PFC, updates will be coming, it's just all coming very slowly right now, with lots of stops and false starts. Thank you guys so much for bearing with me, and for continuing to follow and read my stories. I hope you enjoyed this, late and short as it was.

On a lighter note, assuming someone reviews this chapter, this story will have made it to 100 reviews! That's a huge landmark to me, and I really appreciate all of your support! YOU GUYS ROCK!