One of the more unsavory setbacks to being busy is that it's so easy to let certain activities fall to the side, not forgotten but certainly neglected. This semester hasn't necessarily been my busiest in history, but it has been the most difficult transition. I've been reading so much that the idea of reading for recreation is almost nauseating at this point. Writing, similarly, has taken a blow.

However, the semester is almost over. I will have three weeks between semesters, and I intend to use it to catch up on writing. We begin here, with chapter 51. Welcome to Ichigo's debut as a captain in the Gotei 13.

Nobody was more surprised at Kurosaki Ichigo's ability to adapt to the day-to-day drudgery of captaincy than those who thought they'd known him best.

Nobody was more relieved than the former substitute's new vice-captain, who could barely lift up his head anymore. When Hisagi saw Ichigo step up to his cot—which he was sure would be his deathbed—his sunken face brightened into a grin for the first time in days.

Ichigo spent his days at a desk, reading. It was very much how he figured his teacher spent her office hours, and it wasn't exactly different enough from his coursework at school that it took him any real time to adjust.

"Kurosaki-taichou," came the voice of Ichigo's third-seat officer, a tall woman with a girl's smile and a dragon's temper. Ichigo glanced up at her.

"Mm?"

She shouldered through the doorway with a stack of paper in her arms. The rest of the officers had thought to haze their new leader by offering him no leeway whatsoever, but so far the eldest of the Kurosaki children hadn't batted an eyelash. If anything, he'd been perpetually bored. "A delivery for you, sir."

"What is it, Hiyoshi-san?" Ichigo asked mildly.

"Preliminary examination texts," she replied. "You were fast-tracked into your position due to necessity, sir. When things return to some semblance of equilibrium, Yamamoto-soutaichou wants to be sure that you're prepared for the academy's captaincy exam."

It crossed Ichigo's mind to tell his new officer that once things returned to "equilibrium," he intended to go right the hell back home, but he reminded himself that however he felt about the old psychopath that ran this circus, Ichigo now had an entire division of lower-ranked shinigami looking directly to him for leadership.

That included Hiyoshi

"Thanks. Set it over there. I'll start looking it over tonight."

Hiyoshi relieved her arms of their burden and bowed deeply. "Thank you, Kurosaki-taichou."

"'S my pleasure." Ichigo set down his pen. "How goes training?" he asked. Hiyoshi had been put in charge of the men and women at arms so that Ichigo could concentrate on learning the ins and outs of his new position, as well as catch up on the paperwork. Paperwork, he thought. What a simple word for the least efficient method of exchanging information, in this world or any other.

"Very well, sir. The men are relieved to have a hero of the Great Rebellion guiding them."

Ichigo nearly vomited. "Hero of the…Great Rebellion," he repeated.

"Yes, sir. Were it not for you, we all would surely be dead. The higher-ups don't want to admit your influence. It damages their pride. But we know the truth, sir."

Ichigo didn't know what he thought about that. He did know that he didn't believe it. But again, these people were relying on him. "It wasn't just me," he said finally. "But thanks. Let me know if you can use me for anything."

Hiyoshi smiled graciously as she bowed again. "That's my line, sir." And she backed out of the room.

Ichigo picked up his pen and almost laughed.

Then he almost cried.

Hero? What a cosmic joke.

"Kurosaki," came a voice that was too familiar to ignore.

Ichigo looked up without seeing. "Toushirou."

For once, Hitsugaya didn't respond with any species of anger or irritation at being called by his given name. He stepped inside Ichigo's office. "How goes the adjustment?" he asked.

Ichigo wasn't sure if Hitsugaya actually wanted an answer, or if he was just giving out a standard greeting. He replied, "Can't complain."

"How would a change in the status quo strike you?"

The high-schooler-turned-god-soldier raised an eyebrow. "Depends on what you're getting at. What's your angle?"

Hitsugaya gestured. "Walk with me."

Shrugging, Ichigo rose from his desk and followed the young captain out into the hallway. As they walked, Hitsugaya said, "We've been keeping tabs on the population of Soul Society, watching for anyone exhibiting symptoms of this disease."

"I'd hope so. Anything so far?"

"Barring a few extremely rare exceptions," Hitusgaya replied, picking a bit of lint off of his left shoulder, "the residents of Rukongai haven't been struck. Those we have found who are suffering from its effects have been brought here, to the Fourth's infirmary, for observation and…what passes for treatment."

"Who got hit first? Kenpachi, right?"

Hitsugaya nodded.

"So…maybe it's got something to do with spiritual pressure?"

"That's what we're banking on." Hitsugaya gave a salute to a patrolling shinigami who stopped to bow. Ichigo held up a hand in greeting. "Lower-ranking shinigami haven't been hit, and almost none of Rukongai. The only exceptions were potential candidates for the academy."

Ichigo frowned. He wondered how long it would be before this virus took hold of him. He had enough reiatsu to feed an army of these things…whatever they were. How often had Ichigo heard that he—like Zaraki—overcame an unrefined and unpracticed technique with sheer force? Most shinigami spent decades, if not centuries, perfecting their combat skills. How else could Ichigo, barely nearing sixteen years old, hope to stand up to them?

Yet he had. More than once.

"Preliminary hypotheses tell us the pathogen feeds on reiatsu, and once the victim is…run dry, the body can't even muster enough energy to fight off the pressure of Soul Society itself. The body…caves in."

Ichigo grimaced. "That sounds…horrible."

Hitsugaya stopped in front of a building, and Ichigo glanced up at it. He hadn't been paying any attention whatsoever to his surroundings as they walked, focused instead on the multitude of emotions running across Hitsugaya's young face. Ichigo had never been what you would call astute at reading the feelings and moods of other people…or at least, he hadn't ever been that. Now, though, it was easy.

Or maybe Hitsugaya was just especially transparent.

They were standing in front of the barracks for the Third Division. Hitsugaya stepped up to a patrolling officer. "If you could, deliver a message to Captain Kudo for me: Captain Hitsugaya and Captain Kurosaki are outside the barracks, waiting for him. He should be expecting us."

The officer saluted. "I'll deliver the message right away, sirs."

"Kudo?" Ichigo asked.

"Ichimaru's replacement," Hitsugaya said. "He's had…a complicated time transiting into a position of authority. However, he requested to speak with you, once he learned that you would be joining our ranks."

"Why?" Ichigo asked, suspicious. He had little reason to trust people he didn't trust in the best of situations.

Hitsugaya frowned. "…He thinks he has a way to curb the symptoms of this disease. And he says that someone like you is…instrumental to its success."