So this is an important chapter. Not because it's one of my longest (though not the longest), and not because we're inching up on 50. Mostly it's because it's a rather heavy paradigm shift. Akin to making Ikkaku the new Fifth Division captain, or bringing Kudo into the mix.
Thus, I will not blather on. Let us experience decay.
Omaeda was next.
Soi Fong played it off, acted as though it made no difference to her whether the great, hulking idiot was at her side or buried beneath a headstone, but everyone who cared to look at the woman more deeply could tell that she was upset. For all she complained about the man's ineptitude, his misplaced arrogance and his oafish inability to do anything the way that she asked him, the fact remained that he was her adjutant, and she kept him around for a reason.
Not that Soi Fong would admit that she was fond of the man, whose full name most people couldn't even pronounce, and nobody cared to remember. But everyone who knew the two of them knew one thing: for all Omaeda's blundering, they worked well together. Their ceaseless banter almost never ceased to keep an enemy off-balance.
When the leaders of the Second Division fought with each other, it wasn't a sign of discord; it was the most clear-cut vision of just how well they worked together.
Nobody was especially surprised, therefore, that the Second Division was not an especially entertaining place to be, once its vice-captain was out of commission. Soi Fong was irritable enough when things were normal.
Hitsugaya was not one for morbid curiosity, but eventually he decided that Unohana's reports were not enough of an indication of the seriousness of the situation. Thus, one afternoon, during his break, the young captain decided to visit a colleague.
To say that Madarame Ikkaku didn't look like himself would have been as grave an understatement as to say that Kurosaki Ichigo was unpredictable. The face was almost the same; the expression, at least. It was one Hitsugaya had seen too many times before not to recognize. It was the look of a man in a situation to which oblivion would have been a far sweeter alternative. The thin mouth was set in a scowl, lips curled to show grimacing teeth that were beginning to look grey.
But that face was gaunt, sunken; the eyes were deep in his skull, surrounded by deep, dark circles. The bonfire Hitsugaya was so used to seeing blazing beneath the surface was flickering like a sputtering, dying candle. The body, usually corded steel sheathed in boiled leather, was beginning to curl in upon itself. Unohana's last report had stated that the Fifth Division captain could no longer move his shriveled, curving legs. He could barely move his arms anymore, and couldn't come close to writing his own evaluations anymore, as he'd done in the beginning. Now Isane-fukutaichou came in every morning to examine him, and wrote an update herself.
But when Hitsugaya stepped into the sickroom, Ikkaku turned his head and stared straight into his soul. "Come to...mock the fuck outta me...short-stack?" he croaked, and tried futilely to curve his lips into a smirk. It was a pitiful shadow of itself.
"Don't call me short-stack, Madarame," Hitsugaya replied in a quiet voice. "We may share a rank, but I still have seniority."
"Yeah...? I could...still kick yer...yer—" the man's body was suddenly racked with retching, hacking coughs, and Hitsugaya half-expected the man to start choking up blood. He didn't. "...Kick yer...mother...motherfuck..."
"I'm sure," Hitsugaya said, and couldn't quite manage a smirk of his own.
This wasn't pathetic. It was an offense.
"O-Oi...Hitsu...gay..."
"What is it, Madarame?" Hitsugaya asked, crossing his arms as if he thought he might ward off the infection; although Kurotsuchi still hadn't figured out how it spread. Ikkaku tried to lean forward, fell back against the pillows of his cot, forced himself back up and leaned heavily on one stick-like arm.
"That...bratty little...marshmallow they saddled me with..." Ikkaku's eyes, pain-stricken and furious, flashed with a momentary glimpse into their old gleam. "Still...pities herself...too fuckin' much. W-Whip her into...shape. Got me? I don't...I ain't gonna...come back to a...damn division full'a...pansy-ass children."
Hitsugaya smirked. "Hinamori was always sensitive. She's young. Older than I, most assuredly, but...young. She'll grow up eventually, and when that time comes, I'll dare you to find a better officer." He sensed the man's skepticism. "Think of it this way: she all but led her division at Aizen's behest, when she was a blind puppet."
Ikkaku seemed taken aback by this. He leaned back onto the cot.
"...Hmph. Maybe. You...keep up...her training. Don't...don't let'er slack. Got me?"
"I'll see to it personally."
"...Good. Now...get outta here. Fuckin' hair's too bright."
As he left the room, Hitsugaya almost laughed.
He walked among them with a stern, stoic face. Matsumoto stood at attention nearby, arms flat at her sides. He watched them, watched their puzzled, sweating, frightened faces. A part of him didn't blame them. Most of him hoped they didn't show such blatant vulnerability outside of their own walls, else Ikkaku was probably right.
Children.
"In the spirit of my vice-captain's initiative to increase cooperation between the divisions of this corps," Hitsugaya declared in a loud, sharp tone of command that didn't seem to fit his body or his voice, "I have agreed to your captain's request to supervise the Fifth Division's personal training."
They had left Sugimura in charge of their own division's regimen; Matsumoto had insisted on being present, as her face was far more familiar on these grounds than Hitsugaya's. It showed dedication as well, she said, and Hitsugaya was inclined to agree.
He hoped Sugimura's report was thorough.
They were all holding wooden practice swords. They were all confused and irritated at this. Hitsugaya knew that, expected it, counted on it. He said, "As I do not know this division as well as your own captain, I have opted to conduct matters at the bottom of the ladder." Hitsugaya held out a hand, and Matsumoto placed a wooden sword into his hand. "Against this enemy of sickness, against whom none of us have any real knowledge, we are equal to the greenest of trainees. Rank, skill, dedication, it matters not to this thing. This disease. We face this as equals. We train as equals."
And Hitsugaya fell into rank with the rest of them, followed closely by Matsumoto.
They all seemed shocked at this.
Some were suspicious. Some were irritated. Some were outright offended.
But a great many more seemed pleased.
"Formation!" Hitsugaya called, and they all fell into position. "One! Three! Six!" Remembering their own training at this level, the soldiers all repeated the sequence as one voice.
"Begin!"
They moved, all of them, as one body. Captain, adjutants, officers, footsoldiers; greenhorns, veterans; arrogant, humble. One mind. One body. One voice. One purpose.
One fear.
Hinamori Momo bowed deeply, and the officers with her followed suit. "We wanted to personally thank you, Hitsugaya-taichou, Matsumoto-fukutaichou, for your assistance today."
Hitsugaya nodded. "We are allies," he said. "It's high time we acted like it."
"Sir!" they all declared in response.
Hinamori raised her head, and she was grinning. Sweating, breathing hard, but grinning. "It was...exhilerating." She seemed to have wanted to say "fun," but stopped herself. Hitsugaya nodded with satisfaction, and Matsumoto smirked.
And it seemed like that would be the end of it.
It would have been.
Except,
"Permission to speak freely, sir."
Another officer, Hitsugaya thought he was Ikkaku's seventh-seat, had stepped up to them. He had short-cropped blond hair and a heavy, bulldog's face. Hitsugaya did not know his name, but was saved embarrassment when Hinamori said, "Toshinori-san? Is something the matter?"
"Certainly," said Toshinori, who bowed (barely) to her. He looked back at Hitsugaya. "Permission to speak freely," he repeated. "Sir."
Hitsugaya wasn't fond of the man's tone, and from the click in Matsumoto's jaw he could tell that she wasn't, either. But he inclined his head. "Of course, Officer Toshinori. Speak your mind."
Toshinori puffed up. "I don't see the point of this 'joint training' experiment."
"The point is to take strides to foster inter-division cooperation to a degree such that we are able to act as a single force, as opposed to a fundamentally fragmented collection of forces," Hitsugaya said simply.
"We work well enough without that," Toshinori snapped.
"In times of peace and relative order, I agree," Hitsugaya offered. "However, it is my personal opinion that our current situation does not lend itself to proper defense and retaliation in times of war and discord."
"I think you're just trying to butt into other people's business. You want to take over this place, you can't just be satisfied with leading your own division, you have to take over someone else's. Sir."
Hinamori started to speak, but Hitsugaya held up a hand. "I see."
"Child prodigy," Toshinori sneered. "Genius. Wunderkind. This corps has been around for thousands of years. It's gotten along just fine as it is. Yamamoto-soutaichou has been leading us for ten times longer than you have been alive. What makes you think you know better than he?"
"Nothing," Hitsugaya said. "I am fully aware of my inexperience, Officer Toshinori. If the Captain-Commander were to come to me and tell me that this initiative would not serve the Gotei 13, I would of course aquiesce. However, he has not. He has given his expressed approval. Therefore, my vice-captain and I are moving forward with it. If you have concerns, I would very much appreciate hearing them. Please."
"Yes, we all know the sort of initiative you and your...ahem...vice-captain are moving forward with." Hitsugaya was stone-faced, and did not respond. "The 13 divisions aren't an army. They're a collaboration. If one country and another are allies, are they led by the same people? Do they become mirrors of each other? What you're suggesting isn't going to facilitate anything but group-think. We'll lose our individuality. We'll forget why we're separated in the first place."
"Two countries can both be at war with a third, and not be allies," Hitsugaya replied. "The divisions do not coordinate with each other when the situation warrants it. We are not allies. Aizen and his forces just happen to have targeted all of us. What I suggest is, indeed, an alliance. Something we do not have at the moment. In my opinion."
"And if it's Hitsugaya-taichou's opinion, why, it must be right."
"Toshinori-san, that's enough," Hinamori said, inching up on anger.
"No, it's all right, Hinamori." Hitsugaya held up a hand again. "I asked him to speak his mind."
"I don't know how you managed to reach captaincy so young," Toshinori said, "but it's rather clear to me that you shouldn't have been put into the position, if this is the kind of leadership you're providing. Come back when you have a clue how things actually work."
Matsumoto cleared her throat. "You present legitimate concerns, Officer," she said waspishly, "and they will be taken into very serious consideration in spite of the deliberate antagonism with which you've chosen to present them." Toshinori blinked at her. "However, I would correct you on a very specific point. While it is true that my captain first presented the idea to me, I was the one to formally propose this inter-division cooperative effort. I have been an officer in this division much longer than Hitsugaya-taichou. He is the third captain to have led the Tenth Division since I first donned this uniform. I suggest you find a more prevalent and accurate argument than inexperience if you plan to continue this discussion."
Toshinori swelled like a frog. "As if you're a real officer, anyway," he sniffed derisively. "What are you playing at, anyway? Eye candy for your captains. All three of them. That's all you—"
"You overstep your rank, soldier."
It was not Hitsugaya who spoke. Nor Matsumoto.
It was Hinamori.
Toshinori flinched.
"I understand that Hitsugaya-taichou asked you to speak freely," she continued in a tone rimmed with ice, "but I would remind you that you are my subordinate, and you answer to me. I will not tolerate such blatant disrespect, toward anyone, from anyone in my division. Do you understand me?"
"I...ah...Hinamori-fuku—"
"Do you understand me?"
"...Yes, ma'am."
Hitsugaya drew in a sigh, shook his head, and settled himself. "Before I speak, I wish it known that this is not conduct becoming of a captain, and that I fully admit to hypocrisy and will regret my actions as soon as I have finished. However, I will speak: you hold to an undeserved sense of superiority borne, I suspect, of the glowing reputation your division once had, before Aizen Sousuke proved himself a traitor to this court. You have shown blatant disregard and disrespect for your own vice-captain's integrity, and mine, which leads me to think you hold to male chauvanism as well, like any number of backward-thinking simpletons I have met. I cannot intervene on Hinamori-fukutaichou's behalf in order to teach you proper respect for her office, but I will say this. Remember, the next time you see fit to speak to my subordinate in such a derisive tone, Seventh-Seat Toshinori."
Hitsugaya scowled, and the temperature dropped, and Toshinori went pale.
"You. Are. Expendable."
"Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it."
Matsumoto glanced over at her captain. "There are always naysayers, Toushirou. We knew that before we started. Don't let him get to you. All in all, I'd say today was a resounding success."
Hitsugaya grunted. "I made an embarrassment out of myself and my position. I insulted you, I insulted Hinamori, and all I accomplished was to give the great idiot even more reason to turn a blind eye to what we all need."
Matsumoto smiled. "One opinion won't ring true in opposition to the majority," she said. "It's the nature of an organization. For good or ill, the minority almost never wins. Toshinori's opinion doesn't count for much. It's the opinion of the higher-ups, your comrades, and especially the opinion of the Captain-Commander that matters."
"No," Hitsugaya said. "The whole point is to get everyone working together."
"That's not going to happen."
"Nonetheless, this one isn't going to work with us as a direct result of my behavior," Hitsugaya said. "I'm responsible for this. I made it all sound like a joke. Like all I want is for people to listen to me. I proved him right."
"He wasn't interested in the beginning," Matsumoto said, waving a sheet of paper around as Ash batted at one corner, "or did you forget the fact that he came to you?"
"I might have tried to convince him to try, rather than push him away with my own...faux-macho strutting." Hitsugaya growled with disgust, and leaned back in his chair. "What did that prove? What did that accomplish? I'm an idiot."
"What was his conduct, if not faux-macho strutting?" Matsumoto asked.
"I didn't have to sink to his level."
Matsumoto was used to this. When Hitsugaya got it into his head to be disappointed in himself, no amount of arguing could convince him otherwise. He had to get himself out of this funk. She may as well have been talking to a brick wall for all her words were helping. He was brooding now, glaring at the door into his private chamber. Normally, Matsumoto might have enlisted the help of one Hinamori Momo to help. But she figured that wouldn't work this time.
She sighed, stood up, and walked over to the young captain's desk.
Leaning over it, she kissed one corner of Hitsugaya's mouth.
"I'm glad you did," she said, and kissed the other.
In spite of the hang-up with Seventh-Seat Officer Toshinori Katsu, training with the Fifth Division went well over the next few days. They began integrating some of the Tenth's soldiers into the exercises, further facilitating proper coordination. As the initiative continued, more and more officers from other divisions began to take notice.
Hitsugaya dared to think that this might just take hold after all.
Matsumoto, for her part, was already claiming victory.
Everything finally seemed to be repairing itself. Things were really starting to feel like they were back to normal. That they had a real chance at beating this; the decay, and Aizen, and anything else.
And then it all fell apart.
One day, instead of Korutsuchi Nemu coming to the captains of the other divisions personally, as she usually did, the Twelfth's third-seat officer made the daily report. He was ashen, stone-faced, and all but petrified when he reached Hitsugaya's office.
"Report, soldier," the white-haired boy commanded.
"S-S-Sir...Kurotsuchi-fukutaichou...she has...she has fallen ill."
Hitsugaya blinked. "What? What about the others? What about Madarame, and Hisagi? Zaraki?"
"They...the others...are...well, they aren't improving, but they aren't..."
And he stopped, chewing on his lower lip.
"What?" Hitsugaya demanded, standing up. "What is it, man?"
"The others are not...any worse. Except..."
"Except? Except?"
"...Omaeda-fukutaichou. Sir. He's...he died just after daybreak this morning."
…Yeah. I went there.
First, let me admit that both Sugimura and Toshinori are names taken from a specific source (Battle Royale, a story I've referenced before); Sugimura comes from a character I like, Toshinori from one that I rather detest.
Does it show?
There's a method to the madness at work here. I hope that you will continue along with me to the conclusion of this storyline and see what I'm planning. If I do my job right, it will all be worth it in the end.
Also, I'm graduating!
Yes. I've finished the first rung of my college career. True, I plan to be an educator, so the road's not finished yet, but…hey, cap and gown time! Whoo! Or…whatever it is those crazy kids are saying these days.
See you all next week.