This was stupid.

Just about the only coherent thought he'd managed to have during the past two days was that one: this was stupid. Completely and utterly incomprehensible. Should have never happened. Just plain wrong.

Kurotsuchi and Unohana had both told him that he was wrong, and had explained in detail how it had happened (it was the first time in Soul Society's history that the Fourth Division captain and the Twelfth Division captain had ever agreed on anything). But Unohana had sounded far too much like a lecturing parent and he hadn't listened, and Kurotsuchi...well, nobody listened to Kurotsuchi. He was crazy.

Crazier than Ichimaru.

Well...uh...

"Ugh..." Hitsugaya groaned miserably. "Just what I need..."

Kurotsuchi and Ichimaru...and in his fever-heated mind, he saw them together, dancing wildly in a field of corpses, singing off-key about the joys of murder.

Groaning again, straining to keep the laughter bubbling up in his throat down (he did not want to laugh right now), Hitsugaya curled up in the fetal position with his fists pressed against his stomach.

As creepy as they were, the image of Kurotsuchi Mayuri and Ichimaru Gin dancing and singing was pretty damn funny.

Damn his traitorous imagination!

Taking in deep, steadying breaths, he strained to think of nice, calming things...kittens, baby rabbits, a gentle breeze on a nice autumn day, the crisp, cool taste of watermelon, Matsumoto's smile--

Wait, whoa...hold on. Back up.

What!

His eyes snapped open, his breath catching in his throat.

"Oh! Taichou! Did I wake you?"

Turning his eyes upward, he saw his vice-captain standing by the bed, a wet washrag in her hand, looking at him. He shook his head slowly.

Sitting down at his bedside, Matsumoto sighed. "Having trouble sleeping, Taichou?"

"Ngh..."

"Awww...poor Hitsugaya-taichou...c'mon, lay back. This will make you feel better."

He did as she said, and she lay the folded, damp cloth on his forehead. It did feel good...he'd been so hot lately...

Matsumoto frowned worriedly, and removed the thick blanket from his bed, leaving him covered in a thin sheet. "Unohana-taichou said to keep you warm, but...I don't think this is doing any good. You're not used to heat, after all...Hyourinmaru's kind of...conditioned you against it, huh?"

He didn't say anything, but a slight moan of pleasure escaped his lips when the stifling heat left his body. Even though his eyes were barely open, he saw the smile rise on Matsumoto's face.

"T-Thank you..." he managed to whisper.

"Shhh...don't talk, Hitsugaya-taichou. It's okay."

"Ugh...this is stupid...I'm a spirit...spirits shouldn't get sick..."

"You wouldn't think," Matsumoto said, "but...Unohana-taichou told us what it was. Shame she can't do anything for you...you need to get over this yourself, she says."

"Stupid...stupid...stupid..."

"Don't worry, Taichou. You'll be better soon..."

"Kurotsuchi told me...he could help me get better...by extracting my stomach..."

Matsumoto laughed. "Oh, I hope that was just a joke!"

"With...that psycho...? No."

"Hmmm...you might be right."

The contemplative way she said this, for some reason, struck the young captain as extremely funny. She was completely serious, as if just realizing that such a procedure wouldn't be beyond Kurotsuchi at all.

This time, he couldn't hold back.

He laughed.

Bad idea.

Two seconds after he started, it was over.

He doubled over and vomited.

Unohana had warned him, of course, that it would be painful. Hitsugaya ate very, very little on a given day, as dedicated as he was to work, and usually didn't drink much, either.

That meant, of course, that there was never much of anything in his stomach. He had been far too sick to manage to eat anything recently, either, even for the purpose of alleviating...this.

Throwing up when there was nothing to throw up was the most miserable experience Hitsugaya Toushirou had ever experienced. He thought dying would be preferable to this.

His stomach felt like it was on fire, twisting itself in knots as it strained to rid itself of whatever irritant it thought was there. Lightning bolts assaulted his entire body as he shook, sweat falling from his face. A million daggers shoved themselves into his gut, ripping him to shreds. Agonized moans tore from his dry throat.

Matsumoto's hand gently rubbed his back, reminding him to breathe. He might have told her that he knew how to breathe, except for the fact that he couldn't speak...and the fact that, honestly, he was actually forgetting.

Puking took over your mind; no other thoughts ever came through.

When he finally was able to stop, when the last heave had passed, he collapsed in complete exhaustion. Matsumoto, on instinct, held him to her, still rubbing his back to soothe him.

"Taichou..." she whispered.

"Ngh...M-Matsumoto..."

She laid him back onto his bed and turned around. She turned back with a bowl in her hands. "Unohana-taichou thought I should bring this to you. Some soup will make the next time go smoother. Are you feeling better now?"

He barely managed a nod, head leaning back against the headboard. She set the bowl on a tray and positioned it over his lap. He picked up the spoon, but his hand shook. Glaring at the offending appendage, he struggled to stop it.

When it became clear that he was too tired and too ill to manage it, Matsumoto took the spoon from him and proceeded to feed him. He thought about telling her it wasn't necessary, that if he just went to sleep for a bit, he would be awake enough to feed himself; he wasn't a child. He could handle himself.

He was about to open his mouth to say these things, but another spoonful of soup stopped him before he could. Matsumoto winked at him. "I know what you're thinking, Taichou. And trust me...I know you're not a child. But you need to eat. Or...do you want to go through that again?"

He didn't really need to answer that question.

When the soup was gone, Matsumoto smiled again and set the tray aside. "Ukitake-taichou gave me some tea that should help settle your stomach, if you want some later."

"That...w-would be...nice..."

"Okay. Sure thing." She stood up to leave.

"Uh...Matsumoto..."

She turned and looked at him. "Hm? What is it?"

"A-About...my...my work...I..."

She smiled. "Oh, hush."

"But...but..."

She leaned over him and kissed his forehead.

"Hush," she said again. "You let me worry about that..."

Eyes wide, mouth agape, he could come up with no answer.

She left the room.

He lifted a shaking hand and touched his forehead.

She...she had...kissed him.

Kissed him!

"What...?"

At any other time, in any other situation, he would have been furious at such a blatant invasion. Who said she could kiss him? He was her superior! That was not how a captain should be treated!

But this time...

Well...he'd let it slide.

He closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

"...Rangiku...thank you..."

Outside the room, Matsumoto stopped, turned her head, and smiled. "You're welcome...Toushirou."

There's no time on earth when the people who care about you show it more than when you're sick. It's a double-edged sword, I guess. You don't have to do anything; you just lay back and other people do all your work for you. But...well, there's a price to pay, too. I'm sure just about everyone can attest to the utter torture that is vomiting up nothing...I don't think there's anything quite like that experience, and anyone who's never felt such pain can count themselves exceedingly lucky.

I'm not so sure if shinigami can get such illnesses, but since Ukitake-taichou obviously has a problem with his health (tuberculosis, if memory serves me right), I'd think Hitsugaya could get something too. I'm not sure if I wrote this just for an excuse for Matsumoto to kiss him...but regardless of any ulterior motive, I think it turned out pretty well.

Hope you agree.

...On a side note, I don't think I've ever been able to eat just after vomiting, but...Hitsugaya's a captain. He could probably do it. And if it turned out that it didn't do him any good, well...lapse in judgment. He brought it on himself, didn't he?