-I know this was probably not meant to be its own standalone drabble, but that's what it turned out to be. And, frankly, I didn't want to split up the whole set that Scarlett Foxie donated, so I just split this idea off onto its own so I could get my even 200 without having to disturb the other list she sent me along with the prompt idea. I hope you enjoy this, dear. I had a blast writing it, mostly because the idea came so fluidly and naturally to me that I couldn't resist writing it.
1: Idea
Toshiro had to take a long time to get used to the fact that Ichigo had died. Everyone had taken a long time to get over the shock, but it was he in particular who had been hit most hard. Mostly because of the budding… something that had begun to blossom between them at the time of Ichigo's untimely death was he left most confused and unsatisfied with the conclusion to the short story that had been their friendship. Especially because at the time of the end, promises of the future were just beginning to sift to the surface, and never being allowed to know where those promises may have gone left Toshiro cold hearted and wanting of something he could not define.
What was most sad was that it took him almost twenty years to even realize any of that. He'd been ignoring it for so long, ignoring himself for so long, that he'd almost forgotten why he felt so cold all the time anyway. He'd just gone back to accepting that it was just the way he was; who he was.
But something reminded him that it wasn't the way he was; it wasn't who he was. He didn't used to feel the cold at all; even though he knew he was. He didn't used to feel its biting sting in the most piteous bowls of his stomach, didn't used to shiver at its cold when he went home to an empty apartment at night. But for twenty years, he didn't remember that. It took him realizing that he couldn't remember how it felt to not feel cold to understand that some part of himself was off kilter, and had been for a long time.
So, just a few weeks before his birthday and the inevitable New Year's celebration that Soul Society would end up throwing, he requested of the Head Captain some time off and unto himself. The Head Captain gave it, knowing that the young Captain had not had a day off in over twenty years, nor had he ever asked for anything of the sort in times before. Thus, it could only be assumed that he was in dire need of it, and was thus granted it out of want to not unsettle even more what appeared to be wrong.
Though why Toshiro went to Montana of all places, he would never quite be sure. He knew that staying in Karakura Town would have been the most logical thing to do, seeing as it was still one of the most spiritually dense locations the World of the Living had to offer, but Toshiro had no desire to stay there. His only desire at the time was to go somewhere quiet, cold, and away from as many people as he could manage. Somewhere that he could fly to; somewhere that he could disappear into the snow and into the mountains where he could think unto himself with a completely fresh frame of reference in order to achieve the best perspective about what the hell he'd been avoiding all these years.
So, within a day or two he found himself traipsing up and down the mountain trails in Paradise Valley, Montana, nestled up in one of the small chalets at Chico Hot Springs, enjoying the silence of the mountain and the natural heat of the water almost as much as he was enjoying not having to do paperwork.
But the peace and settled feeling was soiled by the fact that he still spent most of his days sitting on the roof of his little chalet, his butt planted in the snow, thinking about himself and what exactly he'd lost in reference to the feelings for years before and after Ichigo's death he'd made a habit of avoiding.
He would often spend hours watching the lodge below as people trickled in and out as they came and went. He would watch the parents play with their children in the cerulean pool, steaming in billowing coils of humid white air as the night's chill descended about the hills. He would observe the cars that came and went with the day's light, the dogs that wandered and strayed about the grounds searching for a person to play with, the fat, strangely moisture-less flakes that was the product of snow in the desert drift down from the lazily nonsensical sky that erupted with colors in the sharp light of the fading short days.
And yet he was still no closer to understanding himself than he was to understanding why, at some point, each person he watched come and go would die and fade from thought and memory. He was no closer to peace with himself than he was to peace with the fact that Ichigo was still dead, and that Toshiro was still and would forever be without him.
So, after almost five days of his own secluded mental torment from his cabin up the hill, Toshiro gave up and wandered down to the lodge to perhaps squander his time with some kind of friendly soul rather than his own sordid thoughts. He had retrieved a nice piping tea from the small gift shop next to the empty gardens before he strode down the long grounds towards a barn he'd frequently watched from his perch, but had never approached. He was intrigued by it, and so went to investigate to sate his interest until night fell and he went to redeem his dinner reservations in the old lodge's famed restaurant.
And, seeing as he had almost an entire half day until then, he figured the horse-barn would be a good place to start.
He'd read that the horses were kept on the grounds for use in the summer; when they did horse-back rides up the trail twirling up the mountain and into the wilderness beyond. They sounded rather fun to Toshiro, but he understood why they declined doing them in the winter; if anyone got lost or the weather descended, they would be entirely stranded out in the true Montanan wilderness. But at the same time he'd read about the horse-back trail rides, he'd also read about the dog-sled excursions they did in the winter in the stead of the horse expeditions, which explained the vast majority of the dogs wandering around the grounds.
Settling himself next to the old fashioned western style fence that kept the horses in close to their barn, he blew the steam off the top of his tea, not caring particularly if the snow was settling in it. Only a few brave and sturdy horses wandered about outside, most of them wisely staying inside to keep warm. But one, a beautiful bay horse with a fair oval of white crowning his brow almost in the fashion of a third eye, and two white socks on his back feet, was brave enough to withstand the cold. So brave, in fact, that he even seemed able to ignore the settled chill to actually see Toshiro leaning against the fence.
Toshiro remained still as the horse walked over, the creature's massive head bobbing as his loping stride carried him across the frozen mud of the small outside yard. When he was near enough to the fence, Toshiro stood upright, the horse's face reaching over the fence to snort very close to his own as if in greeting. Toshiro chuckled to himself, offering only the back of his hand for the mighty beast to sniff before gently scrubbing a hand along his chin. "I'm sorry I haven't got any sugar or apples to give you," he spoke to the creature mildly. "And something tells me you haven't got a taste for tea."
The horse's ears flicked back, and his front legs settled after a short stamp indicating just what Toshiro had said to be true. He laughed again, combing aside the bangs of the stallion to reveal the eye-like oval.
"I'm amazed he hasn't bitten you yet."
Toshiro glanced over his shoulder at one of the stable boys as he emerged from inside the barn. Toshiro looked at him curiously, before looking back to the horse in front of him, who only looked back with deeply innocent brown eyes. "He seems quite genteel," Toshiro replied, continuing his ministrations to the horse's nose as he scratched it comfortingly. "I can't imagine him biting anyone."
The farm hand snorted, stopping about a yard away and leaning against a fencepost. He was decently tall, and unlike Toshiro was actually able to hook an arm over the top fence rail to lean on. "You must have charmed him somehow; he doesn't like anybody."
Toshiro just shrugged, looking back to the horse still happily accepting his ministrations before looking back to the stable-hand. "What is his name?" he asked, curious for a reason he didn't really know. It just seemed like a steed so strong and gentle was deserving of a name, and for some reason he needed to know it in order to be able to respect him properly.
"Brego," the man replied quietly, adjusting the took on his head as he watched the man and horse in front of him carefully, apparently wholeheartedly expecting the horse to actually bite him.
But Toshiro only smiled, looking back to the horse and reaching up to smooth what mane he could reach on the horse's thick neck. "Din nama is cynglic," he said through his smile, and the horse let out a muffled snort, a quiver rustling the hair of his mane.
The laughter of the stable-boy made him look back and away from his new companion, and the young man was looking at him in unabashed amazement. A look on his particular features that Toshiro couldn't help but find almost strikingly familiar to Ichigo. But he shook it off, instead listening to the words the taller man spoke. "I can't believe you actually said that," he said, his voice breathy with amazement, amusement, and respect. "I never thought that anyone out here would ever get the reference."
Toshiro's smile lingered. "It is a pity that so few reference good literature anymore," he said, leaning against the fence and letting his hand rest for a moment as Brego nuzzled his shoulder. Not in demanding, but more in appreciation. But even after that the horse remained, standing by the fence almost loyally. "I would have a great amount of respect for you if you were the one to name him."
The man laughed, patting Brego's side as the horse had sidled up to stand parallel to the fence. "Yeah, that was me," he said, rubbing a strong hand across the horse's flank in an affectionate circle. "He's only ever liked me up 'till now. And now you fly down out of the clouds and woo him. I'd call it fate if I didn't think there might be some other name for it."
"Sorry if I've absconded with your horse's affections," Toshiro said chuckling. "I promise you can have them back when I leave."
Brego whinnied lowly, apparently not entirely thrilled by that idea.
"Nah," the stable-hand answered with a good-natured smile. "It's nice to see him finally getting along with someone other than me. Maybe you can sweeten him up and convince him to at least put up with other people." Silence settled between them for a moment, Toshiro taking a sip of his tea as the other man's gloved hands continued to smooth the bay's coarse winter coat back to a decent shine.
"Say, what's your name, anyway?"
The question was asked rather suddenly, and for a moment Toshiro caught himself unawares. Now that the young man asked, Toshiro found it surprising that he hadn't commented on his odd appearance. Still being slight and white haired as always, it wouldn't have offended him at all if the young man had. But it intrigued him now because he hadn't. "Toshiro," he answered simply, tilting his head a bit. "And yours?"
"Isaiah," the young man answered strongly, patting the horse on its side before retiring his arm for a moment. "Not gonna tell me your last name 'cause you don't want me to call you "Mister" anything?" he teased, and Toshiro couldn't help but smile; mostly because that was his precise rationale.
"I could assume the same of you," he said, blowing on his tea in spite of the fact that it was only barely steaming anymore. "But yes; I have enough of a title back home. I came to escape it here, so there's little point in feeling the need to be referred to by it."
Isaiah snorted. "You must have a heavy title, then, bub. Most people carry them around like they're brass balls on exhibition. For you to be sick of it must mean a lot of people define you by it," he said, before slowing in his speech and looking at Toshiro seriously. And, for the first time in years, Toshiro realized that he actually felt like he was being seen, and that, also for the first time in years, he didn't feel cold. "But… you don't want to be defined by it; you just want to be yourself, huh?"
It took a horse nudging his shoulder for Toshiro to realize that he'd been staring. His vision was a bit blurry, and he scrubbed his face with his free hand for a moment. When he looked back to Isaiah, the young man looked horrified, his bright hazel eyes worried as they sat beneath his furrowed brow. "Look, man, I'm sorry," he said, reaching out a hand as the other scratched at the back of his neck in shame. "I shouldn't have gone assuming anything like that. It was really, really rude."
Toshiro just shook his head, letting out a sigh and reaching out to scratch Brego along his pronounced jaw line. The horse settled there next to him, though his ears were flicked back with apparent ultra-sensory understanding of Toshiro's unease. "It's alright," Toshiro assured after a moment of leaving the poor man wallowing in his guilt, looking back at Isaiah with what was probably a faraway look. "You were quite right to begin with; I suppose it just came as a shock to have someone finally… see that. To see beyond appearances down to what's actually there. It was… refreshing. Thank you."
The stable-hand did not seem comforted, but at least re-settled against his fencepost. "I don't know how much you should be thanking me, but I do know what you mean about people who look past appearances," he said, his tone playful yet the slightest bit bitter as he spoke. It interested Toshiro, drew him back to Earth a bit.
"Do you, now?" Toshiro asked, looking him up and down curiously. "You appear decently normal to me. Save for perhaps a bit more horse hair in your coat than the average person, but, regardless."
Isaiah laughed, reaching up to peel the took off his head. What he revealed was undoubtedly one of the reddest heads of hair that Toshiro had seen in his life. It was an almost deep, fiery red, were it not for the absolutely glowing sheen of orange that seemed to consume it from the roots up. "You and I have got the same hair issues," he said with a wink before refitting his beanie. "Though I must admit, yours fits you."
"As does yours," Toshiro assured with all confidence and a light laugh. Isaiah gave him a rather confounded look, and Toshiro couldn't help but elaborate. "I once had a friend who had hair just as vibrant as yours; and he was just as vivacious and introspective. We were kindred spirits for a time."
"You talk like you're damn bloody old," Isaiah teased, though the small Captain could still see the curiosity in his eyes. "What happened to him?" he asked, though with enough softness and deliberation to be respectful.
Strangely, Toshiro didn't feel the need to pause at all. "He died," he answered, his voice equally quiet. "Unfortunately before he and I could really get to know one another. Which is a pity, seeing as I think we would have been marvelous friends." He glanced back to Isaiah, trying to lighten the mood a bit with a joke. "And I am damn bloody old, in spite of how I look."
"You look healthy as a damn horse, that's how you look. That's what confuses me so much," Isaiah said, apparently willing to take Toshiro's short explanation on Ichigo at its face value. He appreciated it; it let him simplify the matter for himself and at least make peace with that small part. "But, to be honest, it's one of the reasons why I wanted to come out and talk to you anyway."
One of Toshiro's snowy brows rose suspiciously. "I thought it was because of the horse."
Isaiah's head bobbed in confirmation. "It was. But it was that and something else about you that I have ulterior motives to be interested in."
"Sounds like a bad pick up line to me," Toshiro said, which got Isaiah to smile a bit, a quirky little think that made a dimple in his cheek appear.
"Maybe," he said, shrugging his broad shoulders. "But maybe it will sound a bit better as a job proposition."
In spite of not even remotely being in the field of looking for a job, Toshiro couldn't tell him that he wasn't interested. Because, frankly, it would be an outright lie. So, he took one last swig of his tea, setting his mug atop the fencepost and re-taking his practice of lavishing Brego's neck with languid strokes. "Go on."
"Well, you see," Isaiah started with a smile, "I don't work at Chico all year round. I'm just one of the winter hands; I actually work at a horse ranch in North Carolina during the summers as a trainer. And, to be honest, the owner of the farm has a great colt that will be coming into racing season this spring. The thing is, we need a jockey. And, seeing as we've combed over the available ones with a comb so fine it could scrape out a flea and not found anything, I've been on the lookout for someone that might fit the bill."
"And you thought I would make a good jockey?" Toshiro said, unable to help his incredulous chuckle. "I'm sorry, but I have no training at all with horses, nor have I any clue how to be a good jockey. Besides, I only have one horse with which to reference any experience at all, and I do have responsibilities to return to." His arguments, though plausible, still sounded weak to his own head.
Isaiah rolled his eyes. "Come on, you'd be perfect for it! What are you, seventy pounds when sopping wet? You're built like a jockey, have a jockey attitude, and already have a good relation with the horse you'd be riding," he said with a wave of his hand. God, the more he spoke, the more Toshiro was reminded of the other ginger from his not so distant past.
Toshiro looked in surprise at the horse leaning into his hand from the other side of the fence before looking back to Isaiah. "You mean this is the colt you plan to race? Why the hell did you bring him out here?"
"Because he's a big damn kid, and he likes to run no matter where it is or what it's through. And I needed to get more time in with him, so I brought him back here with me," he said, before taking another good long look at Toshiro. He would have felt unnerved by a gaze like that, but for some reason it didn't frighten him as much as it probably should have. Because as much as the gaze was penetrating, it was also familiar, and even Hyorinmaru's voice, humming gently in the back of his mind, acknowledged that.
This boy from a country and time entirely his own, somehow, someway, was a kindred spirit in the same way that he and Ichigo had been… could have been.
"Besides," Isaiah said, his eyes leveled so evenly with Toshiro's that the smaller man was able to realize that the hazel in his eyes was accented by an almost teal rather than green, "I can see that you're not able to find a whole lot of reason to go back to that title of yours that's hanging like a tombstone around your neck."
"Aptly put," Toshiro conceded, before settling into silence-shrouded thought for a moment, still absently stroking Brego's neck as the stallion's head rested hovering in the air about his own narrow shoulder. When he looked back at Isaiah, he found that the other had waited patiently for his response. "Yet there are more factors to consider than a spur-of-the-moment proposition can factor in. Let me think it over."
"You should think yes," Isaiah insisted, though a bit teasingly. "I don't know how Brego here would treat me if I let you walk away and leave him here with only me for company. And you really do look like you could do with more than just a vacation, Toshiro. You look like you need something to lift you back up from wherever you've sunk to."
'He doesn't realize what he's asking of me,' Toshiro thought to himself, chuckling halfheartedly as Brego nuzzled his shoulder. As tempting as the nonsensical thought was, there was just too much that he would be leaving behind. But then, he realized, perhaps that was why he should agree; he had too much baggage dragging behind him. And hadn't Ichigo told him something similar once? "Stop carrying around that ball and chain, Toshiro," he'd said once in passing. "It's keeping you from flying."
He needed to fly again.
Apparently the look he returned to Isaiah was one the young ginger did not expect, as he started rather headily when Toshiro looked back to him. He knew it was stupid, he knew it was rash. He knew it was everything his training as a Captain of the Thirteen Court Guard Squads told him not to do, but he found that he didn't care.
He didn't want to be defined as just a Captain; didn't want to be defined as just another solider with a sword at his side and a power worthy of being formidable. And yet he didn't want to be defined as a jockey either; he just wanted to be recognized as himself. The parts that were the solider, and the parts that were artistic and romantic, and the parts that bled and hurt when people died. That's what he'd been missing all those years; he'd been missing the sense of self existence that Ichigo seemed to give him whenever they were around one another. Isaiah gave him that same feeling; of being perfectly capable of being himself without breaking the laws of the world as they stood.
And he realized, that as a person, regardless of rank or position, he had every right in the world to make decisions for and by himself.
"When will you be heading back to North Carolina?" he asked, and a smile that mirrored a ray of pure sun burst out across the stable-hand's scruffy face.
"Probably about March, if the weather around here ever clears up," he said, sounding conversational and undeniably excited. "You know what they say about Montana; there are really only two seasons: winter and road construction." He was looking at Toshiro hopefully, and Brego's ears were perked forward as if waiting for the smaller man to answer as well.
Toshiro laughed idly. "I've never heard that saying before, but I can see where it could apply. When does the sun set around here during the winter, four o' clock? It's almost absurd," he said, masking his own thoughts with the idle chatter at hand. But the horse at his side was still at attention, awaiting his answer. Damn the big creature for being so perceptive. He looked back to Isaiah, who was wholeheartedly unable to prevent the hopeful gleam from dancing across his eyes. "I'll still need to think about it, but why don't we talk about it over dinner? I'm sure the maitre de could squeeze a chair in for you at my lonely table."
Isaiah laughed amicably, resting his palm against his chin. "You really should tell me your last name," he said with that quirk of a smile still on his lips. The sudden change of topic caught Toshiro off guard, and he looked curiously over at the American for a moment.
"Why?" he asked, sure that his skeptical look was probably more than a bit humorous to look at.
"So I can thank you properly," the trainer replied, his hazel eyes glittering with mischief and just a little bit more. "Just like any good Montanan would do after someone invites them to dinner."
"So it's just a Montanan thing, eh?" Toshiro teased lightly. "And here I thought it was an American thing. I guess I might have some studying up to do if I'm ever to come and race for you. Here I thought I had a good idea of how the American people acted and behaved. You've absolutely squandered my knowledge."
Isaiah was outright laughing by the time Toshiro finished, and even had to wipe away a tea from his eye with a leather-gloved hand. "I'm sure you'll pick up on it nice and quick. Every state is different; each with their own qualities and characteristics. I just know being a Montana native how my Mum taught me to treat people; and it seems to fall into accordance with the way a lot of people behave."
"Oh?" Toshiro was distracted for a moment by Brego's nuzzling of his shoulder. "And what part of Montana are you from?"
"Right smack dab in the middle," he answered, poking the air like he was sticking a pushpin to a map. "The Koppy family has been in Great Falls for a few generations; though we were from Fort Peck before that. So this is pretty far south for me; and North Carolina is even worse." But he winked even after his jibing statement, showing he had really little to no chagrin with the area at all. "There, now you've got my name, Toshiro. But you still haven't given me yours. Care to share?"
He couldn't exactly say no, considering the other man had been kind enough to provide his own name. "Hitsugaya," he answered simply, before speaking again. "So you're Isaiah Koppy, huh? Kind of a unique name from someone from the outlands of the United States' Midwest."
"And you've got a mighty unique name for just another tourist, Mr. Toshiro Hitsugaya," Isaiah said, giving Brego one more heavy pat on the flank before standing up straight again. Something clung to Toshiro after the man had spoken his name, though. In spite of it being in a totally different language than his native Japanese, and in spite of the slight Montanan… annunciation to his words, he was still amazed by how natural it sounded on Isaiah's tongue. So similar to the way he'd heard it before that he was convinced a dose of liquefied déjà vu had been bled into his veins.
"But it still suits ya, I think. And I think I will accept your invitation to dinner graciously, Mr. Hitsugaya, seeing as I am the one trying to coerce you into riding for me." With a dip of his head and a short salute, the ranch hand made to return to the barn. "But now that I'm done sewing dragon's teeth in your head, I had best get back to work. I'll see you tonight."
And with that, Toshiro was left alone once more with only his emptied mug of tea, and the horse still standing resolutely next to him on the other side of the fence. He looked up to the face of the great creature, its deep brown eyes gazing strangely perceptively back down at him as he reached up to comb his fingers through the beast's bangs once more, his fingers grazing over the little white patch on his forehead.
"What do you think?" he asked, unperturbed by how silly he probably looked, talking to a horse. Somehow he felt that the creature understood what he was saying anyway, and would answer in kind.
He was not disappointed when the horse bent its head down, tucking under Toshiro's chin and nuzzling its brow against his chest. Toshiro reached around behind the folded-back ears, smoothing out the black mane now within reach. "Thought so," he muttered, and the horse all but tucked under his chin snorted in response.
After a moment of scratching the horse's neck, Toshiro sighed to himself. "You'd think that after so many years as a Soul Reaper, it would be obvious when spiritual bonds appear, huh?" He stepped back, letting the horse's head rise so they were gazing eye to eye.
"And maybe Isaiah was right," Toshiro said after a moment. "There is another word for the fate that's made itself known here. It's the idea of grace, and an unrequited second chance." He gave the horse one last long stroke on the chin before retrieving his mug and stepping away. The horse's head followed, almost reaching as if trying to get to him. He turned back with a gentle smile, pausing for a moment.
"Don't worry, Hallaer. This one knows not to turn his back to grace whenever it comes around," he said.
-Odd, obscure, and totally random… and yet I still love it. I've had this idea in my head ever since I saw this sitting in my review box. And I know that it was probably nothing like any of you were expecting, but I had fun with it anyway. I have a few notes, just in case some of you were wondering. Brego, of course, is Aragorn's mighty steed from the Lord of the Rings trilogy. The phrase "Din nama is cynglic," translates from Elvish to English to mean "Your name is kingly." Just for those of you who haven't seen the films, which you should. Also, the word at the end, Hallaer, translates from Elvish to English to mean "tall one". Let's see… what else… oh, and in case you were wondering, yes, this is regarding reincarnation, and the initials IK should matter to you. EDIT: There are two more things you should know. The first is that I totally forgot to explain the word "took" that I used twice in this drabble. It's not describing the past tense version of take, it's actually a Canadian word I grew up with that essentially means a beanie. The "oo" sound is like what you would hear in the word "food" rather than the "oo" from "look". I just used it because I grew up with the term, seeing as my father is still a legal alien from Alberta. Also, secondly, I owe Isaiah's last name to my friend Ink on Ice, who let me actually steal her last name. She's actually going in for re-constructive surgery on her ACL today, and I'm ridiculously worried but wanted to give her something to read when she's back to being sentient. And to thank her for letting me borrow her last name. I think that's about it for now, other than the fact that this is the last official drabble for 200! But… it won't be marked complete just quite yet. I still have one last thing to add, but you'll get to see that in a day or two. Until then, enjoy this technically completed set of 200 IchiHitsu drabbles, and brace yourself for 300, which is next on the list!
8-90s love,
crypto