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…

IX: MINSTREL BOY

Though they had never formally declared it, the truce lasted until sunrise. Hitsugaya was too tired to stay awake through most of the night; he'd dozed off at some point in time, and only jerked awake when he heard the sound of voices outside the storeroom.

He cast around him blearily. Where was…no. He sensed it even before he saw that Kusaka had departed sometime in the night.

"…damn Captain wants us to get it over and done with…"

Instantly, the fog of sleep fled. Hitsugaya carefully gripped Hyorinmaru's hilt as he listened. Had Zaraki's men chosen this time to do a stocktake? He scuttled back, until the wall was pressing into his back. There was only one way out of this storeroom, he realised, and that would be fighting his way past Zaraki's men.

"Tell him to shove off," someone said.

"Tell the Captain to shove off? I'd like to see you do it. He usually gives us more time to…"

There was a thud, as if a series of heavy objects had been set down, and none too gently. "…get a drink," someone said.

Cautiously, Hitsugaya stretched and picked up Hyorinmaru. Securing Hyorinmaru to the sash he customarily used, he shifted slowly and carefully up to the door and listened.

A grunt. "Lucky you."

"Come on, the Captain doesn't care if you drink on the job."

"With the mood he's in? I'm not the one who wants to become target practise for the fish."

"Suit yourself."

"Damn straight I'll suit myself."

Hitsugaya heard the sound of footsteps approaching the door. He pitched his voice in a low approximation of the lazy officer's voice. "You're too scared, is all."

"Hmmph. Easy for you to say."

"Never fancied you a member of the Fourth myself, but from the sound of it…"

"The Fourth? Go on then! I bloody dare you! Look who had the better zanjutsu record, you son of a stinking coward!"

There was a startled cry, and then the sound of clashing steel. "Loser goes to the Fourth!"

"Fine by me!"

Hitsugaya sighed, and wasn't sure if it was more in exasperation or relief. If there was anything that could be counted on, he thought, it was Zaraki's men picking fights at the drop of a hat.

Judging from the flares of reiatsu, these were seated officers, and not particularly highly-ranking ones. Hitsugaya supposed that made sense—Zaraki had never put very much stock in administrative jobs, in any case. Tasks that normally went to senior-ranking officers in other Divisions tended to go to the lowest in the Eleventh.

In the same way, in any other Division, he could have counted on the officer protesting he'd never said anything insulting. It seemed that in the Eleventh, the prospect of a fight had pretty much washed all questions of how or why it was starting out of the officers' minds.

As the two seated officers fought on, Hitsugaya pushed open the door and walked out. His stride was purposeful, unhurried, as though he belonged there. Neither of them paid him any attention at all as he turned a corner, and then was gone from sight.

There was only one place left to go, Hitsugaya thought, and it wasn't home.

He knew the Fifth Division almost as well as his own. He'd made countless visits, some invited by Hinamori, others, trying to see how she was coping. The cold part of him had known, even then, that he was supposed to know and do a better job of knowing this time if Aizen had left any traps behind for them, that they'd be lulled into complacency by the defections, lulled into thinking Aizen hadn't left any spies or traitors in their midst.

It was for his own sake, as much as anything else, that he watched and did nothing.

But it was over now, and Hitsugaya thought that while Aizen had been imprisoned, they were fairly confident in how securely he had been locked away, to the point that nobody was really questioning if Aizen had been behind the murders.

He gained the roof of one of the barracks, and paused there, surveying the grounds. Hinamori's sentries had been anything but sloppy. However, it was difficult for them to catch sight of a shinigami Captain who didn't want to be seen. Particularly one who was good at this sort of thing. The Fourth Division was next to the Fifth, and he noticed the patrolling guards on the grounds. Were there more of them? It seemed so. He wouldn't have expected any less. Security would have been tighter, in case Kyoraku's nameless attacker attempted to finish the job.

He reflected that they probably thought it was him, and that if Kyoraku hadn't yet woken up, it would probably be the case that they would be happy to run him through.

So it was that Hitsugaya carefully surveyed the ground and considered his approach. There were too many guards on the grounds, he thought. Positively thick with them. He would have to approach by the roofs. He could see one or two dark shapes on the roofing, which meant he would have to take them out silently to avoid an outcry.

A running flash-step brought him to the next roof, and then along the branches of a tall tree overhanging the grounds of the Fourth Division. He tested it to make sure it could bear his weight, and then moved on, quickly and as quietly as possible, aware that too much rustling of the leaves could betray his presence to the shinigami on the ground.

An owl hooted; for a heart-stopping moment, Hitsugaya almost lost his balance, but managed to catch himself in time. Heart hammering, he froze stock-still, listening out. There was no sound from below, no sign he had betrayed himself. Hitsugaya had always had a good head for heights, but he was aware that the night wind was cooling a thin layer of cold sweat.

Finally, the next flash-step brought him onto the low roof of a neighbouring building. Hitsugaya didn't dare to stop here. The waning moon would bring him within sight of the patrolling sentries. Quick-footed and sure, he dashed onto the roof of the next building. At the same time, he tried to sense Kyoraku's reiatsu—

"Who—"

Hitsugaya drove his elbow into the startled sentry's throat. "Bakudo first spell," he hissed, "Sai!" He threw his power into the sharply focused thrust of the spell, binding the sentry. Sloppy, Hitsugaya thought. He'd almost been caught. Kido was chancy, and he only hoped no sentry had sensed the spell. The sentry's eyes glared at him, and he knew that the man would build up his reiatsu and attempt to break the spell the first chance he got. The build-up of reiatsu, too, would cause an alert. Hitsugaya placed the man in a chokehold, and counted to ten before he released his grip. The sentry went limp, and Hitsugaya laid him out on the roof before he continued on his way.

Then, he sensed familiar reiatsu below.

Ukitake Jushiro walked out of the shadow cast by the building. He looked up.

Their eyes met.

Hitsugaya knew that Ukitake had sensed him, or had seen him. He froze, wondering if that meant a fight. Ukitake had seemed to believe him, but this was before Kyoraku had been attacked, and he knew that Kyoraku and Ukitake had been close.

A flash-step brought Ukitake up onto the roof. "I'll take him," Ukitake said, and then and only then, Hitsugaya allowed himself to relax. Ukitake's eyes were knowing, if a little sad. "Go. He's waiting for you."

"How—"

"Hitsugaya-taicho," Ukitake said, "Time is not on your side. Shunsui is in the main building. Third window from the left. You'll need to drop in carefully or the sentry will catch you. And do be careful of Lieutenant Ise."

Hitsugaya nodded curtly, saving the questions for another time. "Ukitake?"

Ukitake was already shouldering the dead-weight of the unconscious sentry. "Thank you."

"Go, Hitsugaya-taicho," Ukitake repeated.

Hitsugaya went.

The sentry on the ground was easily dodged, now that Hitsugaya knew where Kyoraku was. He moved, focused and swift, pausing to avoid the patrols, and carefully lowered himself down from the roof and swung into the room from the open window.

Kyoraku was dozing upright in bed, head leaning back against the wall, or so Hitsugaya thought, but his eyes opened a few seconds after Hitsugaya had entered the room.

"Ah, Hitsugaya-kun!" he said cheerfully. "I was thinking you would drop by."

"Ukitake told me where to look."

"Yes, yes, I've just spoken to Jushiro," Kyoraku said, and he really didn't look quite the same without his straw hat. "Pull up a chair, will you? Make yourself home."

Hitsugaya pulled up the visitor's chair and set down, glancing at the door as he did so. "My Nanao-chan comes in every once in a while," Kyoraku said, guessing the meaning of that glance, "So I suggest we finish this before she comes. Angry women are scary eh, Hitsugaya-kun?"

Hitsugaya thought of an enraged Hinamori, and couldn't help but agree.

"The Archives," Hitsugaya said. "Why were you there?"

"There is only one place in Soul Society not subject to purges," Kyoraku said, simply. "And that is the Central Forty-Six Archives. All records, whether for good or for ill, of decisions made by the Central Forty-Six, by the Gotei Thirteen…they are all to be kept in the Archives. Part of the duty of the Eighth Division is to guard the Archives, as you may remember. But it is the duty of the Captain of the Eighth Division to watch…and to carefully update the Archives. A surprisingly lucid move on the part of Central Forty-Six, if you think about it. But nonetheless, everything must be included."

"So you watch," Hitsugaya said. "And you chronicle everything?"

Kyoraku smiled. "Hitsugaya-kun, I won't insult your intelligence. But surely you were my Lieutenant for long enough to know that more was going on with the Eighth Division?"

Hitsugaya thought about the Tenth Division, and the role he had been playing, and he said, "I suppose." He wondered how many other Captains had this: duties that were generally well-kept secrets in Soul Society, and wondered—

"I know about a good many secrets," Kyoraku added, "But in any case, my records were primarily of the Gotei Thirteen. In addition, Central Forty-Six has other ways of enforcing ancient laws. I first went to the Archives because it seemed strange to me that the ice left behind was unmistakeably from Hyorinmaru…I wanted to search for instances where a two shinigami had the same zanpakuto. After all, it seemed just as possible that one shinigami had a zanpakuto that manifested in two swords…" he gave a nod to where Katen Kyokotsu lay, propped up against the far wall.

"And you found Kusaka."

"Yes. The records spoke of the ancient law…and cross-referencing it brought up the last time Central Forty-Six had been confronted with such a case. You and Kusaka Sojiro. Then it all made sense."

"I don't understand," Hitsugaya admitted, puzzled. "I killed him. But he came back. And now there's something he's after…but not revenge. But he attacked you. But if all you were doing was researching on the ancient law and Central Forty-Six…"

Kyoraku's eyes gleamed as he leaned forward. "The ancient law, Hitsugaya-kun. Why does it exist?"

Hitsugaya frowned, racking his memory. "Because two shinigami cannot have the same zanpakuto."

"Cannot?"

"Are not permitted to," Hitsugaya clarified. Laws have reasons, Hitsugaya, Kahei said, in his head. Before you would change a law, know the reason why the law exists. "No," he said, almost in response to the half-forgotten lesson. "I don't know."

"Because two shinigami," Kyoraku repeated, echoing Hitsugaya's words, "Cannot have the same zanpakuto."

Hitsugaya found himself shifting in his own seat. "You're saying that it's not possible for two shinigami to have the same zanpakuto?" Kyoraku nodded. "But how?" He had the same zanpakuto as Kusaka. They had been pitted against each other, made to fight to the death for the right to command Hyorinmaru. How was it not possible? They had done so.

"The truth, Hitsugaya-kun," Kyoraku said, "Is that Kusaka Sojiro never existed." He looked slightly uncomfortable.

"It's not possible," Hitsugaya said.

"Think about it," Kyoraku continued. "A zanpakuto is part of its wielder's soul. A manifestation of yourself. Your power."

"But a separate agent," Hitsugaya corrected. "Zanpakuto may oppose their wielders. They may choose to add their power to that of their wielder." Almost unintentionally, he gazed at the daisho pair Katen Kyokotsu manifested as, in sealed form. Kyoraku noticed, and grinned.

"Well, that, yes," he admitted. "But that doesn't matter. You were too young when you came to us, and asked to be enrolled in the Academy. You were too young for that kind of power. So it was leaking."

Hitsugaya found himself casting about for something, anything to hold on to. Kusaka had been born in Rukongai, he told himself. He had been, like Hitsugaya, another student studying on sponsorship, save that Kusaka had been sponsored by the Academy. How could a manifestation create that?

"Have you ever wondered," Kyoraku said, into the silence, "Why you mastered bankai so early?"

Stung, Hitsugaya murmured, "I worked hard."

"I know."

"I worked at it," he repeated. "Worked at understanding Hyorinmaru. At building a connection with him."

"I know," Kyoraku said again. "But manifesting Hyorinmaru. That was the easy part, wasn't it?"

Finally, Hitsugaya nodded grudgingly. "As if," he said quietly, "Hyorinmaru wanted to be made manifest."

"Because you had already manifested a part of your soul," Kyoraku said. "Kusaka Sojiro was your creation. Your fiction. You needed someone else to bear a part of that power. Not all shinigami do this," he continued, "Manifesting another being and pouring out part of their power into them. But you did. This is why the ancient law exists, Hitsugaya-kun. Because any shinigami whose power is so split can never achieve all of their promise."

Hitsugaya saw, in a flash of insight. It was like battling one's zanpakuto spirit, he thought. The dark side of the shinigami, the practices that were called the 'ancient ways' by teachers in Academies in classes where students learned courtesies and etiquette and ritual, just as they learned the killing arts. It was part of the heritage of the shinigami still red in tooth and claw, born from the days when shinigami used everything they had to battle the tide of Hollows, often descending to the law of the jungle themselves. The strongest, fittest candidates survived. The weak were tossed aside, devoured by Hollows.

This was the ancient law, a practice that hailed back to such cruel times when the shinigami needed the strongest sword-arms they could get.

Everyone knew that this current generation of the Gotei Thirteen was weaker than the first. The first were revered as an entire tier of strength that had been lost to the current Gotei Thirteen. Hitsugaya thought he understood better now, thought he saw the same sentiment in Kyoraku's laid-back demeanour, in the compassion in Ukitake's eyes.

They weren't better. They were different. Weaker, perhaps. But kinder.

That wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

But that was the reasoning behind the ancient law, nonetheless. It was the same idea behind jinzen, behind battling one's zanpakuto spirit to grow stronger, and even today, they did both of that. A weak shinigami simply died in battle with his zanpakuto. Battle was the training grounds from which the strong emerged, the crucible by which shinigami were tested and emerged either stronger and victorious, or dead. There was little, if any, middle ground.

If the shinigami could destroy his own manifestation, then he was worthy of wielding the power he had once divorced from himself. If he died, it was too bad, and the manifestation was clearly more worthy. Hitsugaya saw that now. Central Forty-Six had been willing to sacrifice him, if he had proven to be the lesser in his combat with Kusaka.

And now they were paying for it.

"And the purge?" Hitsugaya wanted to know. "What about the purge?"

Kyoraku sighed heavily. "If the one who lost was a manifestation…" he said, "He had very little material presence in the world to begin with…and they saw no harm in removing him entirely from the records, since he should have never been."

"Kusaka was born in the fifth district of Rukongai," Hitsugaya said sharply. There was a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, as if the bottom of it had dropped out under him completely.

Kyoraku did not leave him with even that illusion. "There is no record of Kusaka Sojiro," Kyoraku said, "Before he attended the Academy. Not in any census, not by any shinigami purifying a soul. It seemed too perfect. And then I realised: it was. It was your reiatsu we found, at every single murder scene, because Kusaka Sojiro had never existed."

Hitsugaya frowned. "But that's not true," he said, slowly, even as he took in Kyoraku's words. "It wasn't my reiatsu at the murders. It's Kusaka's. Our reiatsu aren't the same. I could tell."

Kyoraku frowned. "That's not possible," he said now, repeating Hitsugaya's earlier words. But before he could say anything else, the door flew open, and an indignant Ise Nanao stood in the door way.

"Bakudo first spell, Sai!" she shouted.

"Danku!" Kyoraku barked, before Hitsugaya could respond. The shimmering wall slammed down between them and Nanao, blocking the binding spell before it could take effect. But Kyoraku's reiatsu had barely recovered, and now it fluctuated drastically.

Without waiting to be told, Hitsugaya hurled himself out of the window. He hit the ground, rolled and left at a run. Kyoraku was probably delaying Nanao for as long as he could, perhaps explaining things. Hitsugaya wasn't sure which, but he knew he needed to get away as fast as he could before they could pin him down on the Fourth Division grounds.

In his haste, he darted by a group of sentries rounding a corner; they roared and charged after him. Ise had probably raised the alert by now; so much for hiding, he thought sardonically. He pulled his scabbarded zanpakuto from his back and waded in to meet them, assuming a guard position. Hanging Willow was always good against multiple opponents, and at this point in time, he wasn't keen on harming more shinigami.

He parried an overhand, and thrust his zanpakuto in a low River Sweeps. The blunt end of the scabbard rammed a shinigami in the ribs and his recovery blow swept the man off his feet. One down, four to go. The second attempted a Farmer in the Rice Fields on him; Hitsugaya turned the blow aside with a solid block and then grabbed the man and flung him with a hip throw. The last three decided to take him on together, which might have been the smartest decision they had made. They fought as a team; the third harried him whenever he struck at the fourth, and the fifth made sure he had difficulty finding enough space to manoeuvre in. That meant Hitsugaya couldn't employ any of those wide, sweeping blows that were his signature move in battle. He flipped over a low sweep, slid below a high block and slammed the flat of his blade into the torso of the fourth man. A kicked pebble had the fifth stumbling, and then the pommel of Hyorinmaru found the head of the fourth attacker, and then Hitsugaya turned to face the last two.

Third and fifth had both recovered and advanced cautiously on him. "Hado first spell, Sho!' Hitsugaya chanted, taking one hand off Hyorinmaru's hilt to cast the kido spell. It flung one of the men aside like a rag doll, slamming him against the tree with a sickening crack! and Hitsugaya hoped he hadn't killed the man but it was too late to do anything but to meet the third's attack as he came in.

The third was the most skilled swordsman of the lot, flowing from form to form with a fluidity that would have impressed his instructors back at the Academy. He was less than educated in the brutal, primitive patterns of front-line combat, however, and that showed as he barely anticipated the punches and grabs and holds Hitsugaya added in between sword strokes without breaking the flow of the fight. He had to end this soon before the other patrols noticed.

Hitsugaya blocked a Flowing River cut with Hawk Gliding, then shifted from that to Crane Stretches Its Wings. Third blocked that with an almost contemptuous Serpent Bares Its Fangs, but Hitsugaya was already dodging, a quick flash-step bringing him behind the man's guard and allowing him to catch the shinigami in a joint-lock. He twisted and turned the lock into a shoulder throw, ending up with the man on the ground. He bent and put the man in a choke hold. Only when Third went unconscious did Hitsugaya flee.

By the time the other patrols had noticed the disruption and came running to investigate, Hitsugaya had long gone.

Ukitake returned to the Thirteenth Division, made himself a cup of warm herbal tea, and waited. The warmth soothed his throat, and the spate of coughs. He pressed a handkerchief to his mouth, used to the ebbs and flows of his illness by now.

He set out a second cup, gave Kiyone and Sentaro instructions that he was not to be disturbed, and they should take a rest, and then settled in to wait. It was a rather beautiful night, Ukitake thought, cool and mostly cloudless. He would have gone to the Ugendo quarters, watched the waning moon reflected in the still pond waters, and fed the koi, but he knew that his visitor would not think to find him there.

So Ukitake waited. It was an easy task for a man as old as he was, and time and illness had diligently instilled him with great patience.

A flutter of dark robes at the doorway. He had sensed the waiting presence, a sense born of experience, alertness, an awareness as to when the quality of the shadows before the doorframe had deepened rather than through any sort of reiatsu, even before his guest thought to make himself known. "Ah, come on in, Hitsugaya-taicho. There's a fresh batch of herbal tea here."

Hitsugaya Toshiro carefully moved out from behind the doorframe. Bright teal eyes were shadowed with wariness. He said, "You were expecting me, I take it."

Ukitake beckoned to the seat before him, at the low table. Hitsugaya crossed the floor in a few graceful strides and seated himself. He unfastened Hyorinmaru and laid the sword out beside him, in easy reach. The blade, Ukitake thought sadly, that was at the heart of the trouble now plaguing Soul Society.

"You spoke to Shunsui?"

"I have."

Ukitake smiled. "Tea?"

Hitsugaya looked at him, and then nodded. Ukitake reached for the teapot first, and poured.

"You spoke to him too, didn't you?" Hitsugaya asked, watching Ukitake with those tired, tired eyes.

"I did," Ukitake said. He poured more tea for himself, and then set the teapot back in its proper place.

"So you know, then."

"Yes."

Ukitake sipped at his tea. A rather good blend for autumn, he concluded, pale and light, the way he liked it, with only a note or two of lingering aroma on the tongue. He had to remember ask the family herbalist to recommend a different one when the winter months came.

Hitsugaya didn't ask why the other Captains didn't know, why they were keeping it to themselves, or what Ukitake planned to do about it. Being a Captain of the Gotei Thirteen, Ukitake knew, came with a sense of responsibility. Young Hitsugaya was, in any case, very disposed to take matters into his own hands. He would not leave Kusaka Sojiro to someone else.

"I need someone who can help me," Hitsugaya finally stated. He stared down at his cup of tea, and drank from it, and then murmured faint praise for the blend. His mind was otherwise preoccupied.

Ukitake hardly blinked. "Come, Hitsugaya-taicho. The pavilion around the Hall of Rains is quiet. We will not be overheard there." He rose first. Despite his briskness, Hitsugaya was too polite to leave the cup empty. He drained it to the dregs, and then rose as well, picking up Hyorinmaru.

Ukitake left Sogyo no Kotowari on the zanpakuto stand. He did not expect to be intercepted in his own Division. In that, he was right.

Ukitake wandered to the edge of the pavilion, feeding the carp. Hitsugaya watched, surprised at how peaceful Ukitake looked. Ukitake glanced over at him, and looked mildly embarrassed. "Ah, apologies, Hitsugaya-taicho. I spend a lot of time here, feeding the carp."

"I can see that."

"But Kusaka Sojiro. We were talking about him."

"Kyoraku said that Kusaka Sojiro…that I manifested him, somehow. The way you would manifest your zanpakuto spirit."

"Almost," Ukitake murmured, "But not quite. Nevertheless, the idea is there."

"He knows what I know," Hitsugaya said, bluntly. "What I'm planning."

"Ah," Ukitake managed. He turned and gazed at Hitsugaya for a moment. "That I am not so certain of, Hitsugaya-kun."

"But it explains a great deal. Why Kusaka knew bankai—or at least techniques that Hyorinmaru would only have revealed to him after bankai. Why he knew how to infiltrate my Division, using knowledge only I would have had…or how he knew Kyoraku's fighting style, enough to anticipate and fight against him on almost equal terms…"

"I had wondered," Ukitake said at last. "Kyoraku had mentioned the surprising skill of his attacker."

"The only thing I don't know," Hitsugaya murmured, mostly to himself, "How exactly did he come back?"

Ukitake gave a small, almost embarrassed cough. "That was bound to happen sooner or later," he said.

Hitsugaya glanced sharply at him. "What do you mean, Ukitake?" he finally asked.

"The King's Seal," Ukitake explained. "How much do you know about it?"

"The Seal has some powers," Hitsugaya said immediately. "Which is classified information, so I don't know anything about that. The Seal itself is imbued with a good deal of the Soul King's power, there's no doubt about that. Perhaps even enough to reshape Soul Society."

"Yes," Ukitake said. "That is one of the many possibilities. The King's Seal is…imbued, as you say, with a great amount of power. The Seal itself serves a ceremonial role, as you are no doubt aware of. Used on documents produced by the Central Forty-Six as authorised by the Soul King to govern Soul Society. But there are…other purposes."

"Such as?"

"The Seal breaks boundaries," Ukitake said. "Not in the way we thought the Hogyoku did. The Seal…reshapes reality to do so. It breaks all known laws of nature, because as an artefact imbued with the powers of the Soul King, it is not bound by such laws. In the hands of a trained wielder, the Seal can rewrite history itself. It is one of the many things the King's Seal can do."

Hitsugaya inhaled sharply in surprise. "But if the Seal is so powerful," he said, "Then why didn't Aizen take it?"

Ukitake smiled, gentle and chiding. He said, "Hisugaya-taicho. What makes you think he didn't?"

"But—"

"He didn't take the Seal," Ukitake said. "But he tried to use it. During his time in Soul Society, the Fifth Division came in possession of the Seal. As far as I can trace, Aizen attempted to use the Seal. How else do you think he reached the absolute apex of his growth potential as a shinigami in slightly more than a hundred years?"

Hitsugaya managed, "I see. And the Seal…brought Kusaka back?"

"As far as I can guess, yes. You had already manifested Kusaka once."

"Why?"

"Only you can answer that, Hitsugaya-taicho," Ukitake said. There was a glint of something in his eyes. Hitsugaya looked away first. "You said you needed my help?"

"Yes," Hitsugaya said, woodenly. "I need your assistance."

Hitsugaya woke up with a start. Disoriented, he glanced around at his surroundings. Where was he? He remembered…what did he remember?

"Ukitake!" he exclaimed aloud, but was rewarded by silence. He'd gone to the Thirteenth Division to find Ukitake and he'd fallen asleep shortly after in the Ugendo pavilion.

He moved to the edge of the wooden platform, knelt, and with a murmured apology, though he didn't know whether it was to Ukitake or the shimmering-scaled koi fish that swam in the silvered waters, splashed a handful of water over his face. He sluiced a second handful, before he felt more awake than he'd previously been. He glanced down at the figure in the water. Harried, hair out of its customary spikes, he almost didn't recognise his own reflection. Tentatively, he traced dark smudges of exhaustion beneath his eyes, and the long scratch that had narrowly missed his left eye. Funny. He hadn't even remembered taking that blow.

He was so, so weary.

He almost missed the crackle of paper. He reached into the inner pocket of his shihakusho, and pulled out the two letters. His gaze fell on the first. He knew what he had to do.

"Matsumoto!" Matsumoto stirred and woke up to her Captain shaking her and calling her name. Except that wasn't right, she thought woozily. Why wasn't he wearing his haori? And then she woke up—really woke up—and blinked awake. He wasn't wearing his haori because…

"Taicho," she said, "Why aren't you wearing your haori?"

Hitsugaya's eyebrows were drawn together with impatience. "Matsumoto," he said, "If you are awake enough to ask me questions, you are awake enough to keep this." He handed her a sealed letter, with her name written on it in the neat brush strokes that she had come to recognise as her Captain's.

"Wow, Captain, you even had the time to write me a letter? How sweet!" she managed.

"Don't read it until I leave," he said curtly. "It's important."

"Why?" she asked.

He looked at her, and lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "It's important," he said again, and she saw that he was clutching a second letter in his hand. He noticed, and shifted it before she could make out anything more than characters which seemed to spell out his name on the cover.

"Taicho, what's that?"

"Matsumoto," Hitsugaya said, "I don't have very much time. When I leave, it is important that you read the letter. Immediately after I leave. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Captain," Matsumoto said. She added, "You should take your haori."

"Hmm?"

"You're going to stop him," she said. "Kusaka. Well, you're not just doing this as yourself, Taicho. You never are. You're doing this as the Captain of the Tenth Division. That's why I'm obeying your orders. Because you're my Captain. Well, you shouldn't have stopped wearing that haori. You never stopped being the Captain of the Tenth Division. You owe the haori more respect than that. Sir."

"I…" he began. He'd shed the haori because it made it easier for him to move around Soul Society. Now, and in the clear steady light of Matsumoto's gaze, he wondered if that had been the only reason. Or if he had felt that he shouldn't have confronted Kusaka in the haori, just another symbol of the establishment that had caused them both so much pain.

But she was right. He was more than Hitsugaya Toshiro the person. He raised his sword as the Captain of the Tenth Division, and if he died, it would be as the Captain of the Tenth Division. Soul Society commanded his loyalty, and duty was the word he now had to live by. Part of it, he shouldered gladly. Duty to his subordinates. To Matsumoto. Sometimes, it felt as though it would crush him, such as when he was commanded to sit by as Kuchiki Rukia was about to be executed for no good reason.

He hadn't even thought of reclaiming his haori, now, when he knew what he had to do to stop Kusaka.

"Goodbye, Matsumoto," he said. Thank you. Perhaps she heard him. Perhaps he muffled the words as they came out.

He went over to his quarters, and retrieved his haori. Held it out before him, and then accepted it. As the light weight of the haori settled over his shoulders, Hitsugaya pulled himself up. Taller. Prouder. Straighter. Hyorinmaru went on his back, over the haori and he fastened the brass star-shaped clip.

Without regret, without anger, with purpose and duty, the Captain of the Tenth Division went to war.

A/N: I've posted this installment a day early, as I've got a completely packed day tomorrow. Not really sure if this counts as reparation for the last few times I've missed the posting schedule completely.