Big project was due yesterday, big presentation due Friday, finals in a week, exam last week. And the strange thing is, compared to my roommate, I'm actually not all that busy. Like, at all. But it's affected the creative process to some degree, and I wasn't able to work out what happened in this section of the story for a while.
I have a feeling we're winding down near to the end of this storyline, but I can never be sure. These things have a way of getting out of my hands and finding their own path. I've been trying to juggle any number of projects lately, and I still haven't exactly caught up to where I want to be. I'll get there.
In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this section of "The Decay."
Time to pull out the big guns, as it were.
Let's hope it works.
Zaraki needed full-time attendants just to keep him breathing. Hisagi had lost the ability to speak. A number of promising officers had joined the ranks in the infirmary. Shihouin Yuroichi had stepped into Omaeda's position, and the only thing keeping the Gotei 13 from absolute panic was the fact that the Fifth, Sixth, and Tenth Divisions had—in the midst of this chaos—managed to keep themselves in some species of control.
"Are you still averse to having children in this organization?" Kyouraku asked Kudo Hideaki as they watched Hitsugaya train with the entirety of the Fifth Division. Kudo, for his part, seemed unable to speak. "Yama-jii does not make appointments without good reason," he continued. "If not for his backing of Rangiku-chan's new plan, we would be looking at a full-scale riot by now." Kyouraku didn't look proud to be admitting this.
Kudo looked strangely drained. Pale and tired. He said, "…I was mistaken," he said. "This is no child. My job is not to teach him, or to train him. My job is to emulate him." He looked at his comrade in arms, fire alight in his dark eyes. "Our people need leaders. We are those leaders. I think it's time we rose to Hitsugaya's level."
Kyouraku actually smiled. "I think you're right."
Hitsugaya Toushirou had discarded his captain's cloak, shitagi, and kosoda, leaving his upper body bare as he continued to shout out attack formations. Rivulets of sweat ran down his body like waterfalls, and each of the soldiers that trained alongside him looked just as hot, just as miserable, just as determined.
And all of a sudden, he switched his grip, flipped his training sword upside down, and slammed the tip down into the ground. As one, without a single direction, the others followed suit. As they stood stolid and unmoving like statues in a graveyard, Hitsugaya began to speak.
"For our brothers, and our sisters, we fight." His voice rang out like the roar of the dragon trapped inside him. "For our people, young and old, we fight. For our pride, we fight. For our honor, we fight."
Hitsugaya left his training sword where it stood; as he stepped forward, Matsumoto took up Hyourinmaru, and with the air of an acolyte performing in a ritual, she held it out to him. The white-haired captain grasped the ice dragon's hilt and drew it forth, sending a ringing report into the air in the aftermath of his voice.
Holding up his blade, he said: "For those who stand at our sides, we fight!"
"We fight," came the voices of every shinigami standing in the courtyard, soft and solemn.
"For those who watch our backs, we fight!"
"We fight."
"For those who depend on us for safety, we fight!"
"We fight."
"For those who came before us, and showed us the path, we fight!"
"We fight."
"For those who have fallen, we fight!"
"We fight!"
"FOR OMAEDA NIKKOUTAROUEMON YOSHIAYAMENOSUKE MARECHIYO, WE FIGHT!"
"WE FIGHT!"
Each member of the Fifth Division drew their zanpakutou and raised it in salute.
Kyouraku was grinning broadly.
Kudo was stunned again into speechlessness.
Hitsugaya had hardly ever had a word to say about Soi Fong's vice-captain, but they could tell, even at this distance, that he meant every word; that his cracked and bleeding knuckles, and his blistered hands, and his searing muscles, were all for one man's memory.
Hundreds of soldiers, just as battered and just as bloody, had joined him.
And they weren't even his own.
"That was inspired," Matsumoto murmured thoughtfully as she leaned back in her chair, flexing and un-flexing the fingers of her right hand. As she picked up her pen again, she held it up as if in salute. "We fight!" she declared. "You really got them fired up out there. Hinamori was crying."
Hitsugaya didn't seemed all that pleased. He said, "That always was a problem for her. Crying."
"Oh, come on," Matsumoto admonished. "It makes her human. Lord knows we could use more of it around here. Aizen was never flustered. Never once did he bat an eyelash. No surprises, no anger, no sorrow, no regret. He was a stone wall at best, a glass mirror at worst. Hinamori can't afford to be all business, because that's what Aizen was."
"Hm," said Hitsugaya, brooding. He didn't seem convinced, but neither did he seem shut off to the notion.
"You can't let this get to you so much," Matsumoto said. "It'll kill you. If we're going to get through this, we can't afford the luxury of grief."
Ash hopped up into Hitsugaya's lap and began kneading his leg, purring. The boy captain stared at it, an unreadable expression on his face. "That sounds like an excuse for apathy," he said sulkily.
Matsumoto smiled. "You care about your soldiers, you care about your comrades. I love that about you, believe me. I do. Your predecessor," her expression darkened, "only pretended, and his predecessor didn't even bother with that much. But let it out the way you did today. Don't let it consume you. It'll be the end of you. And I don't want a new captain. I've just started liking the one I've got."
Hitsugaya's head raised, and he leveled a suspicious glare on her. "Just started?"
Matsumoto grinned. "It took some convincing. But you're a good kid."
Hitsugaya snorted derisively. "Shut up."
But a smile was playing on his lips.
"Are you sure about this, Captain-Commander?"
She was from a noble house, and she was used to dealing with important people. Nonetheless, the leader of the Gotei 13 was an entirely different enterprise, and Kuchiki Rukia found herself barely able to handle the pressure in the room. Her captain's hand on her shoulder was the only thing keeping her in the room. Without his calming presence, she would have long since bolted.
"We are losing too many soldiers," Yamamoto declared in his dry rumble. "We cannot afford this breach any longer. Captain Hitsugaya and Vice-Captain Hinamori seem to be keeping order for the time being, but one more blow like Omaeda will cripple us."
"…I understand, sir, but…"
"Are we sure that this measure is the most efficient way of handling the current situation?" Ukitake asked, and Rukia had never felt quite so grateful for him.
"Yes," Yamamoto said sharply. "I see no other alternative. Will you do this, Officer Kuchiki?"
Rukia sighed heavily. "…I will, Captain-Commander, sir."
"Very well. Dismissed."
It struck Kurosaki Ichigo that he hadn't heard from his shinigami comrades in a number of weeks. Life had actually been rather quiet as a result, which—while pleasant—made him rather nervous.
"You worry too much, Kurosaki," Ishida Uryuu declared, looking immaculately superior as he always did. "You have a hero complex. You have to save everyone. You don't have your father's expertise or your sister's accommodating personality, so you protect what you can't nurture, regardless of whether they need it or not. You need to stop."
Ichigo sneered. "You need to stop dressing like you're the last son of Krypton," he snapped. "Seriously, with the cape again?"
Ishida sneered right back. "Way to avoid the point."
"Sorry, what was that? I couldn't hear you, your jacket's too loud."
Ishida rolled his eyes. "Why I deal with you, I'll never kno—" He stopped, swept his gaze hawk-like across the way to find Kuchiki Rukia, in her shinigami uniform with her hand on her sword, walking up to them.
She bowed in front of Ichigo.
"Kurosaki Ichigo, Substitute Shinigami. The Court needs your help."
They always seem to need Ichigo's help, but have you ever noticed that the shinigami never do much in the way of making him feel wanted or welcome? They seem to think that since he has power, he owes it to them to obey them, the same as any officer of the court, in spite of the fact that he isn't.
I have to wonder if this is the first time his help has ever been honestly requested.
Things seem to be heating up a bit.