Winter's Sons
Summary: When a body turns up at the Eastern Wall, run through with a zanpakuto and a sword of ice, all evidence points to Hitsugaya Toshiro. But this is only the first in a string of killings. With Central Forty-Six having issued an order for his execution, Hitsugaya must work against time to clear his name and find a killer strong enough to take on a captain. The past is never dead…
III. A WILDERNESS OF TIGERS
The cup of freshly-made green tea steadied him. He breathed in the scent of the tea, held the ochre pottery cup tightly so his hands wouldn't tremble. Whether it was from lingering exhaustion, or a slow-building rage, Hitsugaya could not say.
He focused on the tea. His hands steadied. He wondered if Hisagi had noticed. Probably. He would have, if he had been in Hisagi's place.
He said, "Ask your questions." It wasn't, Hitsugaya thought, as if he had a choice. He'd never quite had one, not since the day he'd sought out Kyoraku Shunsui and asked for a place at the Academy because Matsumoto had only discovered him once the term had begun.
It had been late autumn, then.
He'd never quite liked autumn, since he'd become a shinigami.
"Hitsugaya-taicho, where were you on the night Kahei Ichiro died?"
Hitsugaya tried to fight off his impatience. They both knew this game; the questions, the techniques of the questioner. Yet he was not unappreciative of the fact that it was only working with the Gotei Thirteen that kept him from being thrown to the mercy of the nobles when the inevitable fuss rose. Or, for that matter, to the mercy of Central Forty-Six.
He knew far more than any man should about the mercy of Central Forty-Six. "In my rooms," Hitsugaya said. "Sleeping."
"Can anyone confirm that?"
Hitsugaya gave a cold shrug. "No. Private access to a Captain's quarters is not common in the Division." He set down the cup of tea on the table. "I dismissed the squads at sundown, when we returned to the Division. After that, I spoke briefly with Lieutenant Matsumoto, and we saw to the safe deposition of the King's Seal. Then I headed back to my rooms, cleaned Hyorinmaru and went to sleep."
"You cleaned your zanpakuto."
Hitsugaya sighed. "We performed the changing of the guard ceremony, after all."
Hisagi nodded. Kira wrote, his handwriting neat despite his speed. "So you went to sleep. And then?"
"And then I was woken up," Hitsugaya said. "By you and Kira."
"Can anyone in your Division confirm that you remained in your quarters?" The same question, asked differently.
"We'd posted our usual sentries at the entrance of the Division and around it," Hitsugaya said. "Though doubtless you know sentries can be avoided."
"How did you know Kahei Ichiro?"
"How else? That man's been the headmaster of the Academy for a very long time." Hitsugaya sipped at his tea. "He taught me." He'd taken a young boy under his wing, Hitsugaya thought, and taught him about politics and power. He wondered if Kira remembered, if the man even knew. They'd been contemporaries at the Academy, of a sort. "We didn't keep in touch, after I graduated." It was a lie, just a small one, barely even a lie. They had met on one occasion. Just once. Barely worth talking about.
"Any conflicts with Kahei Ichiro?"
"No." Hitsugaya gauged the moment, before speaking up. "When is the funeral?"
"After tomorrow, Hitsugaya-taicho," Kira said, as he paused in his note-taking. "Captain Unohana is currently performing an inspection of the body."
"I would like to attend the funeral."
"My apologies, Hitsugaya-taicho," Hisagi said. "It would be neither possible nor wise to do so."
Hitsugaya frowned. He'd thought so. Doing so would simply expose him to the people whom they were trying to take him away from. But the real killer was lurking out there somewhere, and right now, Hitsugaya wanted very much to slip a real ice-type zanpakuto through that person's heart. Instead, he said, "I see. Please convey my condolences. I respected him."
"It will be done," Kira promised.
They respected him enough to leave him Hyorinmaru, and he was not held in the holding cells of the Ninth Division, but a small room, well-appointed, with a futon, a writing desk, and a few other articles of furniture. The window, Hitsugaya discovered, was sealed. A pretty prison, but still a prison.
He wondered how long that would take to change. The shock of learning about Kahei's death was already beginning to wear off, and now Hitsugaya forced away the lingering sadness and turned his mind to the problem of the murder.
Reiatsu was unique to the shinigami who produced it, a combination of their spiritual energy and the tight focus described by their will. That would be the damning finger, the single thing that didn't make sense in this. He didn't doubt that Hisagi could recognise his reiatsu when he saw it, particularly since they'd so recently worked together during the transfer ceremony. In fact, Hitsugaya thought, he'd neatly allowed most of the Seireitei to get a close look at his reiatsu during the ceremonial release. There was no dodging the fact it was his reiatsu. But how had it gotten there?
There was someone, he thought. Someone once who could have done that.
He was dead now, and nothing changed. Blood on stone and dry autumn grass.
Hitsugaya hated the autumn.
He needed a closer look at the files of the investigation, but he wouldn't be allowed access to them. Matsumoto might, but as a suspect, he was never going to be able to get a look at them. Despite the politeness he was currently being offered, Hitsugaya knew that the fact his reiatsu was at the scene of the death meant that he was going to be the only viable suspect. And if Central Forty-Six attempted to rush a decision…
How was not the only question. Why? Why his reiatsu? And the more Hitsugaya thought of it, the more it stank. He sat cross-legged on the floor, the naked blade of his zanpakuto laid out across his lap. Jinzen, they called this technique. Entering a meditative state in which a shinigami could commune with his zanpakuto. Sitting like this, his thoughts floating free like bobbing leaves on water, he considered the facts he did know time and again.
The sword of ice. It stood out starkly in his mind, even as he tried to imagine the scene that Hisagi had only briefly described. Why a sword of ice? Too flashy, Hitsugaya thought. It had been a cool autumn night, and the effects of Tenso Jurin had lingered, but even with these factors, the ice hadn't melted and that meant it hadn't been shaped ice. It'd been ice brought into existence through the use of kido, or reiatsu.
It was almost overdone, the more he thought about it. As if whoever had killed Kahei Ichiro had felt the need to make sure it was Hitsugaya Toshiro who was held to account for the crime. And that meant killing the victim with a weapon that Captain Hitsugaya Toshiro of the Tenth Division was famous for wielding. Had he not, after all, only just displayed his mastery of that element earlier during the ceremonial release of his zanpakuto? Was Hyorinmaru not the strongest ice-type zanpakuto in Soul Society?
Someone had wanted Hitsugaya framed. And why?
And then Hitsugaya realised there was a more pressing issue at hand. The person who had killed Kahei was still out there. And if that person wanted Hitsugaya framed, he would have more than a single opportunity to drive the nail into the coffin.
There would be more deaths.
Suddenly, Hitsugaya realised he had to get out of the Ninth Division. Fast.
"Matsumoto-san, I really do not think—"
"He is my Captain, Kira," Matsumoto said, hands planted on her hips, meeting him stare for stare. "If he's facing charges, I deserve the right to know."
Kira exhaled, his body tight. She noticed the strain in the way his tall frame seemed too compressed in the small chair. It wasn't fair to do this to him, but Matsumoto didn't care as she leaned forward, across the table, and almost knocked the mostly-empty bottle of sake over.
"Tell me you wouldn't want to know if Gin was the one facing charges," she said quietly.
Kira's shoulders were tight; he seemed to shrink back into himself. His eyes narrowed. "Don't bring Captain Ichimaru into this," he retorted, just as quietly. "The charges your Captain faces have nothing to do with him."
"You know where a Lieutenant's place is," Matsumoto stated, and he did know. They'd both placed themselves at opposite ends of crossed swords, damned friendships out of loyalty to their Captain. Being a Lieutenant demanded that, she thought. And although Hitsugaya had never demanded it of her, she couldn't have had let him down.
Kira's eyes flicked to the side and back. She felt a faint strain of regret for having had to push him, where the scars ran deep. But he unbent. "So be it," he uttered. "Abarai-san stumbled across a body at the Eastern Wall, late in the evening. He thought it was a drunk, at first, or some recruit trying something. Then he saw the trail of blood and realised that it was a body, pierced through with a zanpakuto and a sword of ice. He recognised the reiatsu of the ice sword, and the traces at the scene. It was Hitsugaya-taicho's, faint and barely detectable but still there. He took down the body and called a response team from the Ninth and Fourth Divisions."
"And you came with Shuuhei."
"We were drinking," Kira said, and in that moment, she saw the ghost of the man he could be, when the weight of his duties wasn't pressing down on his shoulders. She'd heard from Renji that Kira had been…different, before he'd become a Lieutenant. She didn't know how true that was. "Finding a few bars, when the message came. We left immediately. I was able to identify the body as Kahei-shihan's, and we were able to confirm that it was Hitsugaya-taicho's reiatsu at the scene of the crime. That was the point at which as acting-Captain of the Ninth Division, Hisagi-san decided to ask Hitsugaya-taicho to cooperate in this matter. As acting-Captain of the Third Division, I seconded his decision."
Making it a joint order, Matsumoto knew. She said, "What happened to the sword of ice?"
"Taken to the Twelfth Division for investigation," Kira said. "But it was made from his reiatsu. There was no doubt about it."
"Show me," Matsumoto said.
"I cannot," at her expression, Kira added, "Matsumoto-san, this investigation is being conducted by Hisagi-san. I cannot get you access to the sword because it is now with Kurotsuchi-taicho."
"If anyone knows his reiatsu," Matsumoto replied, "I do. I don't believe it was his." Didn't believe. Couldn't believe. What had he said? 'Go to bed, Matsumoto.' He'd sounded weary, then. He'd been out of sorts the whole afternoon; Sone had confided to her that he'd seen the Captain performing sword exercises in the private courtyard before dawn. She knew he only did that when something upset him, when he felt he needed to regain some sort of inner balance that had been disturbed.
"Hisagi-san recognised his reiatsu," Kira told her. "They'd spent the afternoon performing a joint kido incantation. He mentioned he could recognise Hitsugaya-taicho's reiatsu, and it was in that blade. Considering that the Eastern Wall is relatively close to the Tenth Division, all factors seemed to point towards Hitsugaya-taicho."
"It's too neat," Matsumoto said, frustrated. "Kira, you must see that."
"I don't know," Kira said. "I know that as his Lieutenant, you…" he looked down at his hands. "Must not think him guilty." His shoulders slumped.
"I know he didn't do it," Matsumoto corrected him. "If he wanted to kill a man, he wouldn't…" she thought about the rage in his eyes. The night he fought Gin, she'd seen the end of the world, a slow icy death in those eyes. She'd moved between them, not just because Hitsugaya was her Captain, not just because Gin was…Gin, but because she'd never seen him furious enough to let the world burn, and she knew that in that crossing of blades, only one of the two men would have walked away from it.
Even though she'd ended up choosing her Captain—it hadn't been much of a choice, in the end—she hadn't wanted to make the choice back then, except she realised she'd made it when she stepped between Gin's blade and an unconscious Hinamori.
He'd told her later that the rage had been a lie. She hadn't quite believed him; the anger she saw that day had been too deep to be real.
"Matsumoto-san?"
"He wouldn't leave him there," Matsumoto said. "Killing a man, and then taking him all the way here to the Eastern Wall, to leave him skewered by his own zanpakuto and a sword of ice? Someone wants attention drawn to this."
Could he kill a man, in such a cold way? He'd been ready to kill Gin, she thought. And Aizen. And she reflected that they were both alike; she could never tell when Gin was lying. Sometimes, her Captain retreated away, unreadable; when he was in those moods, she couldn't tell if he lied to her.
"Well," Kira said, with uncharacteristic bitterness, "If attention is what he wants, he's got it."
Matsumoto would have called for more sake, but she was aware of the fact her Captain was in custody. Someone's going out of his way to frame him, she thought. And she looked at the sake bottle and felt any mood for drinking leave her. "Come on, Kira," she said, forcing cheer in her voice. "Let's go. The night's still young."
Part of Hitsugaya had known who it was going to be when the shinigami from the Ninth Division who was evidently his jailer had informed him, voice trembling, that he had a visitor. He hadn't quite expected who it had been, but in retrospect, there was only one person who would have come, at this point in time.
"Narumi," he said, expressionless.
"Hitsugaya," Narumi Arata said. The years hadn't changed him at all; dark hair, immaculately parted, slightly wavy. Midnight blue eyes that were always mocking, always condescending. He was tall and lean, a swordman's build, though light around the shoulders. He did not wear a shihakusho, though Hitsugaya remembered the zanpakuto that was slipped into his obi. The hilt-wrappings were a dull, sullen red, threaded through with black. "I hear it's Captain Hitsugaya these days. For now."
He breathed the impression of smouldering coals and sullen embers; soft, wet ash in the palm of his hand. No, he thought, some things never changed.
A long, curving scar traced Narumi's face, from the corner of his left temple, streaking down to bisect his lips at the corner of his mouth. He remembered that scar, though it had not been so pale when he'd last seen it, more an angry red. He'd given Narumi that scar, in a formal duel. The first time he'd drawn blood with Hyorinmaru.
Narumi's clothing was elegant; they were similar to the robes of a shinigami, but in dark maroons and blacks and rustled dramatically as he moved. "I could have you up on insubordination towards a Captain. However, I hear you left the Gotei Thirteen," Hitsugaya countered. "Clearly, some things seem to be true."
He found his gaze drawn once more by the scar as Narumi smirked; the corners of his mouth twisted. "No," Narumi said softly, "I was granted official leave, to do my duty as the head of the Narumi family. As you can see, I haven't yet returned to my duties in the Seventh Division."
Hitsugaya smiled. "And I'd wondered why Komamura seemed rather unburdened of late."
"Possibly because the Ninth Division has taken a killer into custody," Narumi countered. He took a step forward, still blocking the door. Hitsugaya wondered if the shinigami posted outside had his ear pressed to it. "I heard about Kahei-shihan's death. A tragedy, of course. But we know that Rukongai mud clings, doesn't it? Did I ever tell you of what I saw when I was on patrol in the eightieth district of Rukongai?"
"Funny," Hitsugaya said coldly, "I don't seem to remember needing to reminisce about old times. I'm sure you can share your observations about Zaraki with Zaraki-taicho. He will no doubt find you…amusing."
"It's an interesting thing," Narumi continued, ignoring Hitsugaya. "We found two men drowned in a sinkhole. This isn't uncommon, of course. The terrain in the wilderness of Zaraki is inhospitable, at best. What caught our attention was the way the two men had died. One of them was standing on the shoulders of the other. In his panic to escape, he had pushed his fellow survivor…ground him down into the mud, to no avail. They both died that way. If they'd kept their heads and worked together to brave the rock face…"
"If that's all you've come to say," Hitsugaya said, and it didn't take him very much effort to sound utterly bored, "I believe I'll inform the warden that you are about to be on your way now."
Narumi smiled. "I've been waiting for this moment," he said, all bared teeth. "You have no idea how long." There was an uncomfortable amount of insanity in his dark blue eyes, Hitsugaya thought, as they stared at each other. "The nobles are furious. And of course, who else is to blame but a murdering Rukongai dog who should never have been permitted the haori?"
Hitsugaya struck him. Narumi's reflexes were not fast enough to catch the blow, and he staggered backwards. A line of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
"Clearly," Hitsugaya observed clinically, "You are overwrought by Kahei-shihan's death. This is understandable, as he was a good man. Accuse me baselessly of his murder one more time or dishonour the integrity of the Gotei Thirteen and the Captain's haori, and I will challenge you to a formal duel."
Narumi's eyes narrowed, burning with a hatred he had barely kept hidden, and now that it was revealed once more, Hitsugaya almost took a step back. Almost. But he was a Captain of Soul Society now, and he knew all about hatred, and about war. Instead, he smirked.
"Lay a hand to me once more," Narumi said, "And I will have you before the nobles' council." His smile was savage; all sharp fangs and a flicker of flame. "They are clamouring for blood since the noble headmaster was found on the Eastern Wall, run through by his own zanpakuto and a sword of ice." He almost sneered. "How melodramatic of you."
Hitsugaya blinked.
Narumi noticed it, and said, "Pretence won't save you. They found him, and with your reiatsu clinging all over the scene—careless, don't you think?—another noble killed by Rukongai trash in the Gotei Thirteen. And so soon after Sosuke massacred all of Central Forty-Six. Do you really think—"
In a swift movement, Hitsugaya reached out and slammed Narumi against the wall with a shoulder-charge. Reiatsu flared; the rusty red of Narumi's, and the silver-shot-blue of Hitsugaya's. For all his native talent back at the Academy, Narumi hadn't improved, while Hitsugaya had become a Captain and learned and was mastering his bankai. There was a surprising amount of contest for a few moments, Narumi's will turning his reiatsu to concrete but Hitsugaya broke it, raising his reiatsu to the point that sweat dripped from Narumi's forehead, and the man ground his teeth together.
Frost spread out from his touch; he had Narumi by the throat in a grip of steel. "No," Hitsugaya said, in that cold, cold voice. "Clearly you aren't thinking." He dreamed, some nights. Of the butchery he'd seen in Central Forty-Six. Months later, he still dreamed. For the first time, he saw fear in Narumi's eyes.
Fear of who he'd become. Or fear of what was in his eyes. He didn't know anymore, only felt the slow, frigid anger of a cold dragon fill him.
"You have exhausted my patience, Narumi," Hitsugaya continued. "I have neither the time nor the inclination to play childish games with you. Answer me now: did you kill Kahei?"
Narumi's mouth twisted; he worked up enough moisture to sneer, "Who wants to know?" Clinically, Hitsugaya applied more pressure to Narumi's throat.
"You aren't paying attention. You are still a member of the Gotei Thirteen, even on leave. By my authority as a Captain of Soul Society, I command you to tell me. Did you kill Kahei?"
"No," Narumi spat, at last. Just a single word. Hitsugaya relaxed his grip and let the noble fall to the ground.
"Get out," he said, disgusted.
Narumi got to his feet. "This is not over, Hitsugaya," he snarled. "It will never be over."
"It's Hitsugaya-taicho to you," Hitsugaya said. "Go before I have you punished for insubordination and behaviour unbefitting a member of the Gotei Thirteen."
The door slammed behind Narumi Arata. Hitsugaya took a deep breath, the tension leaving him, all at once. He'd been tighter than a stretched rope. So much, he thought wryly, for not antagonising the nobles. He'd done and kicked the wasps' nest, but Narumi Arata and his vendetta was not on Hitsugaya's list of concerns. The killer was. It had been a frame job, Hitsugaya had concluded. It made no sense otherwise.
But Narumi had in fact given Hitsugaya something of value. Killed and found on the Eastern Wall, Narumi had said. Run through by his own zanpakuto and a sword of ice. But Hisagi had said that Kahei had been found dead in his own rooms, killed by the ice sword. He thought about that. It wasn't an uncommon trick; to withhold some detail of the killing in the hope that the killer would slip up and reveal some detail of it. But Narumi Arata was influential enough that he might have had access to those details, and Hitsugaya was certain that in that moment of fear, when he had Narumi Arata pinned by the throat and at his mercy, it was clear enough that the man had been honest: he had not killed Kahei.
But whoever had done so had gone through a careful amount of planning to make a spectacle. Kahei had to have been killed elsewhere, and then brought to the Eastern Wall. The Eastern Wall, which was conveniently near the Tenth Division, and bore the spectre of Aizen's feigned death.
Perhaps Kahei had been killed by his own zanpakuto. What was clear was that the sword of ice was meant to be the hint that pointed directly at Hitsugaya.
Funny, Hitsugaya thought, how many people seemed to be trying to frame him. Aizen had tried the same trick, and had managed to play him and Hinamori against each other.
He wondered if it was possible to have more pleasant visitors and stuck his head out of the door for a moment.
"Hi…Hitsugaya-taicho!" the shinigami on duty stammered. Hitsugaya frowned, and then realised the hapless man must have sensed his released reiatsu.
"If I am allowed visitors," he said carefully, "Could you send a hell butterfly to Unohana and ask her if she would please pay me a visit?"
"I…I can ask, sir," the shinigami said, and ran out, down the corridor, as if the assembled Hollows of Hueco Mundo were at his heels.
There it was, Hitsugaya thought. Now it was time to start fishing and to see if anything was going to bite. He stared down at the neat scab on his palm, and was faintly surprised to see it had broken and was bleeding through.
Hitsugaya had been surprised to sense the familiar, soothing presence of Unohana Retsu the moment she walked down the corridor. It had been a shot in the dark, nothing more, and he had suspected that Unohana would have been too busy to come by, or she would not have been allowed to.
The door opened a moment later. He stood. "Unohana," he greeted.
"Hitsugaya-taicho," she replied, with that patient smile she directed towards everyone. "I received a rather curious message from a rather terrified shinigami."
Hitsugaya sighed. "I asked him to use a hell butterfly," he growled. He almost smiled. There was something about Unohana's reiatsu that was clean, like deep wellsprings of water, vast like a calm ocean, and it swept away the last vestiges of heat and ash and venom from his exchange with Narumi Arata.
"Well," Unohana said, "You are unhurt?" She glanced pointedly at his palm. It had been a shallow cut, and so apart from cleaning it out after the ceremony, Hitsugaya hadn't bothered to apply healing kido to it.
He nodded. "But I have questions."
She glanced at the door. "I rather thought you might." Hitsugaya took the hint, and moved further away from the door. "I spoke," Unohana said, casually, "to Matsumoto-fukutaicho. While it is not uncommon for lieutenants to defend their captains, she was fiercely convinced of your innocence, and was defending it."
"That's why I'm cooperating," Hitsugaya said. "I did not kill Kahei, and I had no reason to."
Unohana laid a finger to her lip. "Perhaps," she said, after a while of silence. "I do not like to have reason to think badly of a person."
He stared at her, willing her to believe him.
Gently, Unohana said, "I came, Hitsugaya-taicho. What are your questions?"
"Kahei. Where was he found?"
"The Eastern Wall," she said, without hesitation. "Speared through the heart by his own zanpakuto, and a sword of ice. The interesting thing was that it was the blow of his own zanpakuto that killed him. There was damage to his thumb and wrist, so he likely fought for control of his blade at some point. There was more bleeding around the entry wound caused by his zanpakuto, as compared to the one caused by the sword which hardly caused any bleeding at all. My suspicion would be that he was killed first before the blade of ice was inserted into the body."
Interesting, because it confirmed his suspicions. The sword of ice had been the final flourish, a calling card meant to point the finger of blame directly at him. And yet…there was something…he wasn't sure what. Hitsugaya frowned, and set the half-formed thought aside for now.
"How much bleeding?"
She understood his question. "Not very much. The killing blow was struck elsewhere. Kahei died in that place, and then his body was carried and pinned to the Eastern Wall. However, the entry wound was in his back."
"He trusted his attacker," Hitsugaya guessed. "Enough to turn his back on him. Or he was taken by surprise, and fought back when the initial blow did not kill. How many wounds in total?"
"Two. He was wounded twice, presumably when the killer struck the actual blow from behind, and then when he withdrew Kahei's zanpakuto and reversed the direction of the blade through the killing wound. The second wound was caused after death, by the ice sword."
"Any estimate on the time of death?"
Unohana said, "Rigor mortis had set in. With that consideration, and the consistency of the blood, he could have been killed at anytime past sundown to during the night itself. However, I judge that he was dead for at least four to six hours before he was found."
Hitsugaya sighed. That was a long shot, he knew. The earlier Kahei had been killed, the better for him, as he had been involved in the changing of the guard ceremony. However, it seemed that was a dead line of inquiry now. "Thank you, Unohana," he said.
"Hitsugaya-taicho." He gazed up, waiting. "I, too, have a question for you."
"Yes," he said.
"Do you still dream of the Central Forty-Six chambers?"
He looked down, at his hands. Blood welled up from the broken scab, feathered out along the neat lines of his palm. "Often enough," Hitsugaya said, quietly.