Torn

Chapter 27: Ashes and Dust

He knew it was phenomenally stupid. He knew that she was a traitor, filth, the lowest of the low, and a freak of nature to boot. He knew that this was most likely a trap, and that the odds of making it out of this meeting unscathed were incredibly low.

And yet that didn't quell his need to see her one bit. His need to try and reach his oldest friend, the girl he knew was hidden beneath that blind loyalty, and beneath that perverse mask.

And so Toshiro Hitsugaya pushed against the cell door that she had unlocked a few hours previous, walked out of the enclosure and flashed away into the moonlit night. He made sure none of his imprisoned Shinigami comrades saw him go, and as he raced through the night his thoughts were a blur.

A few minutes later he was in Junrinan, his home from long ago, right on the border between Rukongai and the Seireitei. The place where she would be waiting for him.

"Hey, Shiro-chan."

Speak of the devil.

Sure enough, sitting on their old porch was none other than Momo, looking no different than she had before everything had gone straight to hell. Before Aizen had seduced her once and for all, and taken away the only person Hitsugaya had ever really thought of as his family for good. The sight made happiness swell up in his soul so fast it hurt, the pain making the young Captain aware of just how close he'd been to losing his control, to losing the upper hand in this little game they were playing. Love had no place in a contest of wills, Toshiro reminded himself harshly, and that was what this was.

Nothing more.

"I knew you would come," Hinamori spoke again after a moment, and Toshiro continued to struggle valiantly to stay in control of his roiling emotions.

"What do you want, Momo?" he asked acidly, and to his delight the young Captain saw flinty hardness emerge in his old friend's eyes for a moment before she quashed it, smiling with almost genuine nostalgia.

"I just wanted to see you again, Shiro-chan," she said softly, rising from her seated position and beginning to walk towards him. "It's been so long…"

"It was 15 years ago, Hinamori," Toshiro spat back harshly. "When you shoved your zanpakuto into Madarame's chest, and watched him die. Trust me; I haven't forgotten."

"And yet," Hinamori parried, her dark eyes much more calculating and hard than he ever remembered them being, "despite my known allegiance to Aizen-sama, you still came here tonight. So what does that say about you, Shiro-chan?"

Now forced to wrestle directly with the feelings he'd been hoping to keep locked away for good, Hitsugaya felt his iron resolve faltering.

"I thought…" he began, before realizing that he was being a totally delusional idiot and that the young woman in front of him would never again be the Momo that he had grown to care about so deeply. That Momo would never have willingly put blood on her hands, would never have betrayed Soul Society, and would never have betrayed him. She was forever warped, just like her twisted master. And it was about time, Toshiro realized with chilling frankness, that he accepted that.

But he couldn't toss away the years and years they had spent together so easily, either; memories of Momo running up the path to their house to greet him with the biggest smile on her face, or the nights that they'd spent just eating watermelons and talking about anything and everything warred with his common sense and were gaining ground by the moment.

His salvation came when those memories shifted into the first time Toshiro had heard her singing Aizen's praises, and the many months she'd spent afterward honing her skill in the hopes of becoming his Lieutenant. The sycophantic attitude, her idolization of Aizen, had made his heart ache just as fiercely then as the recollection was paining him now.

Of course, he couldn't think of that without his mind's eye looking back on the one night Momo had practiced kendo for so many hours straight that her knuckles were left cracked and bleeding. Nor could he ignore tenderly treating those injuries, and the way her skin had felt underneath his touch. Or the way she had asked him then, so shyly, to work the knots out of the muscles in her back. His hands had moved with their usual assuredness, and Hinamori had grown bolder as her inhibitions had melted away with the tension in her muscles. Soon enough she had been all but sitting in his lap, her back pressed up against his chest as their lips pressed together gently in their first kiss, tentative at first, but growing deeper and deeper as they each realized what the other had come to mean to them.

But that was the past, not the present, and no amount of wishful thinking or longing was going to change that. Momo had clearly put him out of her heart, and it only made sense that he return the favor.

"I don't know what I was thinking," he finished tersely, turning around and beginning to walk away. The retreating Captain was soon stopped, however, by a delicate but deceptively strong hand wrapping itself around his wrist and pulling him backwards. Hitsugaya's natural reflexes spun his body around, sending him straight into the arms of Hinamori.

His lips were on hers before he knew what he was doing, and his carefully built-up self-control was lost as all of his hatred, self-loathing and disgust were swept up by elation, relief and love. Maybe, Toshiro thought as his haori and kimono hit the ground, leaving his chest exposed to the night air, he'd done it. Maybe she'd decided to come back to him after all. The world began to move around Hitsugaya as Momo moved along with him in a series of gleeful spins back up the pathway and into the house, but he was too lost in the feeling of victory to do much more than follow where Hinamori led. Soon enough he felt his back press against the cool wood of their old house's wall, and the shock was enough to get him to break apart from the frenzied kiss. When he did so, though, rather than catch his breath, Toshiro felt what little air he had left squeezed from his lungs as his eyes fell upon the '8' tattooed just above Momo's left breast.

The number that signified her position amongst the Espada, Aizen's most elite group of killers. The number that stood as a physical reminder of how stupid Toshiro had been to think he could change her, a realization that sent the urge to run blazing along every nerve in his body. But a split second later, Toshiro felt blood seep into his lungs to fill the void left by the air. Looking down in horror, he saw Tobiume lodged firmly in his stomach up to the guard.

The Captain had been pinned in place before he could have so much as twitched; years of being confined in that damn cell, with the bars made of pure sekki-sekki rock, had dulled his reiatsu and edge considerably.

"If it's any consolation, Shiro-chan," Momo said after placing a lingering kiss on his lips, "I really am sorry that things had to end like this." She took a step back and slowly licked a few droplets of Toshiro's blood from her lower lip. "If you just hadn't been so stubborn," she continued insistently, "if you'd seen the light behind Aizen-sama's plan like I did, maybe…" here she trailed off, looking upon her old friend with pity, shaking her head. "But that doesn't matter now, anyway."

Closing her eyes, Hinamori concentrated and a white mask began to form over her face. When it had finished coalescing, she opened her eyes once more and Toshiro was sickened to find them the same yellow and black they had been during the skirmish all those years ago. The battle when she had made her defection known and all but single-handedly shifted the balance of power firmly to Aizen's army. Placing her forefinger against Toshiro's forehead, a swirl of crimson energy began to grow and intensify against his skin, the searing pain causing his eyes to roll back into his head in a final gesture of submission.

"Cero."

In the throne room of Las Noches, five of the ten seats reserved for the Espada were occupied as Aizen addressed his elite warriors.

"I know some of you must feel caged, my dear Espada," he began smoothly, "but rest assured, your stretch of inactivity will be coming to an end very soon."

"Does that mean we'll be able to crack some heads open, finally?" A blond-haired male Arrancar with cold blue eyes spoke up. "It's about damn time. Can't leave a job like that to the bottom five, especially with that Sexta leading them," he finished pointedly, shooting a sidelong glance at the Espada sitting further up on the other side of the table. Rather than rise to the provocation, however, Stark just yawned tiredly.

"Last I checked, Ajax," another Espada spoke up, his burnished orange eyes narrowing in disdain, "you were the Quinta, and nothing more. Know your place."

"Fuck you, Saika," Ajax spat back, but a harsh reprimand like that from the Tercera was enough to curb his tongue. Aizen simply watched the whole exchange with something approaching amusement, and continued a moment later.

"It appears that Ichigo Kurosaki, who I am sure you remember, Stark, has finally returned from his training with the Royal Guard."

This revelation was enough to rouse even Stark from his general apathy, although not by much.

"You knew he wasn't dead?" he asked, and the ruler of Las Noches smirked.

"Of course I knew," Aizen replied nonchalantly. "It was I who wanted him to be trained by the Guard from the very beginning. If he is to accomplish what I wish him to, after all, he must be strong enough for it. Ah, Momo," he continued, directing his gaze toward the door, "you've returned."

"Yes, Aizen-sama," the Octava said deferentially as she walked into the room, holding a haori in one hand. "The mission was a success. Toshiro Hitsugaya is dead."

"Are you sure?" Barragan Luisenbarn grunted patronizingly from his seat at the table. "You think we can take just that haori as proof positive that the brat's dead? Your kind doesn't sever ties that easily."

Momo's expression seethed with repressed malice towards the Cuarta Espada, but she said nothing.

"Barragan," Aizen spoke calmly, but with an undercurrent of force to his voice that would have sent most beings to their knees in an instant, "of all the people in this room, Hinamori is the one of whose loyalty I can be the surest."

Barragan bit his tongue, but it was clear by the look in his eyes that he still didn't trust the Octava, and probably never would. She was still a Shinigami, after all; even if she had a mask she could summon at will, Hinamori had no hole to go along with it. She was a sheep in wolf's clothing, and Luisenbarn could not abide such a gross perversion of the title Espada.

"You were saying, Aizen-sama," a female Arrancar with jet black hair and calculating green eyes broke in, "that Ichigo Kurosaki has returned?"

Four of the top five Espada had never seen Ichigo in person, but they had heard no small number of stories about him. Chief among them was that he was a traitor who had managed to sway two of the original Espada into defecting from the ranks of Las Noches, and was not to be underestimated.

"Yes, of course," Sosuke resumed his previous thought, giving the green-eyed Espada a glance. "Thank you for reminding me, Eris. Yes, Ichigo has returned to the Human World, and has traveled from there into Soul Society. I have no doubt that your brothers and sisters currently securing the Seireitei will come into contact with him shortly."

"And so you wish for us to go and assist them, Aizen-sama?" Saika asked speculatively, but Sosuke shook his head.

"No, I do not. Not yet. The Espada must all prove that they are worthy of the title, and the lower ranks are no exception to that constant. You will step in when I deem it necessary, and only then. I simply wanted to make sure you were all informed of the situation. This meeting is over."

The assembled Espada nodded, stood and vanished; all save Momo. Hinamori walked forward and offered the haori to Aizen, but he shook his head.

"Keep it," the Shinigami told her. "I'm proud of you, Momo."

Hinamori smiled brightly at the compliment, all of the confidence that had been shaken by Barragan's insinuation firmly back in place.

"Now, I believe you have somewhere to be?" Sosuke prompted, and Hinamori nodded sharply before vanishing in a whisper of shunpo. When he was alone once again, Aizen rose and flashed away towards the room that housed Las Noches' most valuable prisoner.

Shuhei Hisagi's deep reserve of calm wasn't shaken by many things; Matsumoto holding two jugs of sake and hitting him with a 'come hither' look and a serious Captain Unohana topped that short list.

But as the tattooed Shinigami found himself staring right into the eyes of Halibel, the Sexta Espada, Hisagi realized he was going to have to add another item to his list.

"You're alone," the Arrancar said calmly, walking down the desolate street in the Rukongai towards her prey. "Good. This shouldn't take long, don't worry."

"You sound quite sure of yourself, Arrancar," Shuhei said with equal evenness, drawing Kazeshini from his sheath.

"You served under Kaname Tosen, did you not?" Halibel asked, going right for the jugular. "As I said, this shouldn't take long."

The shift in Hisagi's demeanor was a subtle one, but the Espada's keen eyes caught the wrath simmering in his expression as plain as day. The Shinigami disappeared in a flash, and Halibel simply stuck out her hand to block the blade as it struck.

"I will give you one chance to surrender," she said with something oddly close to concern. "If you do, I promise your end will be swift. If you are intent on fighting me, however, I cannot promise such mercy."

Shuhei didn't give the offer a reply, instead disappearing once again and appearing behind the Arrancar. Halibel didn't even flinch as the blade made contact with her neck; thanks to her hierro, she hadn't even felt the blow. Sticking her hand out behind her, the Espada fired off a quick bala that sent Hisagi flying backwards. As she turned and walked towards the prone body of her foolish opponent, preparing to finish him off, a chuckle from behind her stopped Halibel in her tracks.

"You're seriously wasting your time with him, Tercera? Oh, I'm sorry," Jaegerjaques appended with vicious amusement,

"It's Sexta now, isn't it?"

"Watch your tongue, Grimmjow," the Espada said with a steely tone as she turned back around, regarding the new arrival sharply. "Even if your rank then and my rank now are the same, that says nothing about the gap between our powers."

"But it says everything about the people who knocked you from your perch as Seguenda, Halibel. Don't tell me you're losing your touch; no wonder Stark can't even bear to be around you anymore."

Pantera was drawn just in time to clash with the short, oddly shaped and hollowed-out blade that was Tiburón, Halibel's zanpakuto.

"Made you angry, have I?" Grimmjow pressed, his grin jagged and his eyes searing with bloodlust. "Good. I thought it would take more than that for you to start fighting seriously."

The pair disappeared and reappeared again and again, their exchanges becoming more and more frenzied as the duel drew on.

"You've gotten slower, Halibel," Grimmjow said during a deadlock. "You need to stop letting the others do all of the heavy lifting for you, or you're just gonna get bumped off by Wonderweiss when he decides to steal your rank. You don't want to get shanked by a kid who can't even count to ten, do you?"

"Enough of this," Halibel said with a much sharper tone than normal. She pushed her sword down so that the tip was pointing at Grimmjow's chest, the hollow part of her blade beginning to glow with blue energy. "I will show you power that you could never hope to achieve in eons, Grimmjow Jaegerjaques. Projectil Azul."

The energy within the blade rushed towards the other Arrancar with the strength and force of a Cero, and only a quick jump backwards kept the former Espada from being blasted into oblivion. As it was, a huge gash ran down his chest and Halibel was grudgingly impressed that Grimmjow was able to keep his footing after being grazed by her attack.

"Not bad," he said, "not bad at all. Guess you still have some steel left in you after all. That's what I like to see, Halibel," he finished, placing his palm over his blade.

"It'll make this much more fun. Grind, Pantera!"

All of Grimmjow's injuries vanished as he assumed his resureccion, and he immediately lunged at his opponent with renewed fervor. Halibel blocked the strike with her sword easily, but Jaegerjaques was glad to see her giving up the tiniest bit of ground as he pushed against the blade. Bringing up his other arm, Grimmjow bent it back at the elbow and primed five green darts, pointing them directly at Halibel's face.

Dust and gravel and the timbers of more than a few demolished houses flew up in the air in the wake of Grimmjow's attack, and when the debris cleared Jaegerjaques was greeted with a sight he hadn't seen in a long time.

Halibel's jacket had been slashed to shreds by his darts, and so the Espada standing a few paces away from him now had nothing covering her sizable mask fragment. While the lower portion of it was still intact, the top of the fragment had been shattered, leaving her face completely visible.

"It seems I have underestimated you after all, Grimmjow," the Espada said icily, shifting her sword and pointing it down at the ground in front of her. "That is a mistake I do not plan on repeating. Attack, Tiburón."

A torrent of water rushed out of nowhere and engulfed the Sexta Espada, two massive plumes closing over her like a clamshell. When the water receded Grimmjow was faced with the imposing sight of Halibel's resurrecion, and the frightening power it held.

"Have any last words, Grimmjow?" she asked evenly, and the former Espada just smirked as he prepared himself for an even more intense duel, completely unperturbed by the huge sword at Halibel's side.

"Yeah, I do," he replied cockily, gathering reiatsu in the palm of his hand before charging once more.

"Don't blink."

-------------------

----------------------

A/N: I'm sorry this update took so long; summer classes are much more intense than I thought they would be.

Big ups to JasoTheArtisan for beta'ing the hell out of that first scene like a boss, even if he didn't wake his lazy ass up in time to beta the rest of it. He's still the man. Speaking of which, go and read his story So, and its sequel Anonymous, which are criminally under-reviewed considering how good they are. Do it. Read 'em, love 'em, and review 'em; you won't regret it.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and please rev—actually, no, screw that. Don't review this. Go read So and Anonymous, and review them instead. Seriously.