The Insurgence Arc

Fanart!! 8DD!!!

doomcake — Tue, 29 Apr 2008 01:31:30 GMT

ajdskflsjfdlk;asjdfl;

twosen has drawn me a very lovely whumped Hitsugaya pic (which you can find here: "Incomplete" by twosen @ DA), which has totally given me an idea for an upcoming Insurgence Arc one-shot. 8D

*FLAILS LIKE CRAZY*

Thank you sooooo much, twosen!! ♥!! (I can't thank you enough, srsly!)

Resilience // Part X (2) [final!]

doomcake — Fri, 04 Apr 2008 03:34:28 GMT

“Matsumoto.”

Rangiku flinched, freezing in her tracks, one foot midair with a toe pointed as she tried – rather unsuccessfully – to tiptoe past Hitsugaya's office. He wasn't even looking up from the stack of papers he held in one hand; how the hell did he do that?

“Taichou?” she asked, innocently – both feet now planted on the ground as if she'd meant to be caught anyway. She knew exactly what he was talking about, and could almost see the irritation manifesting itself in a dark cloud around the captain. Shit, she was going to be in trouble.

“You didn't finish this report – it was due four days ago.”

Matsumoto chewed on her lip, then approached Hitsugaya's desk with her hands clasped together in front of her. “I'm so sorry, Taichou!” she said dramatically. “You were still on leave, and I was positively ill with worry the entire time! You couldn't possibly expect me to work under such harsh mental conditions, could you?”

Hitsugaya finally looked up, frowning. “Let me guess – you were so worried, that you went out partying all night three nights in a row.”

“Of course!” She clapped her hands. Brilliant! “I had to distract myself with alcohol, otherwise I never would have had any sleep!”

He glared. “You know damn well it was just a formality for me to stay there an extra few nights,” he growled, thrusting the half-filled paper in her direction. “Cut the crap and the dramatics, take this report, and do it right.”

Ouch. Matsumoto stuck out her lower lip as she took the paper. First day back, and he was already cracking the whip like a slave driver, the grouch. “You're no fun at all.”

“And that's why I'm in charge,” he replied flatly.

He had turned his attention back to the stack of papers, and was no longer looking at her; she took the moment to study him, while she had it. For the first time in a long time, Hitsugaya hadn't spiked his hair up and out of his face, and it hung in unruly clumps around his face. Maybe he had just been too tired to deal with his hair; she looked closer and realized that he still looked tired, even after so much rest, never mind the fact that most of it had been ordered by Unohana. The exhaustion wasn't quite there, though, and that much was a relief. She really had been worried, and it had helped her to relax by going out to drink after so much stress. Besides, Hitsugaya liked doing the paperwork, as much as he grumbled about it.

Suddenly, Hitsugaya looked up and shot Matsumoto an inquisitive glance, raising an eyebrow and looking somewhat suspicious. “Was there something else?”

Clearing her throat, Matsumoto shook her head and smiled. “Nothing. I'll go make some tea.”

Hitsugaya looked at her uncertainly again for a moment, then sighed and turned back to his work. Some things never changed, even after Hitsugaya had spent an entire month at this point recovering in the Fourth's rooms. He still was the same crabby, workaholic captain she knew from long before, despite the new scars he bore across his chest and stomach as a reminder. (Matsumoto hadn't seen them herself, but Koutetsu had told her about them.) That much wasn't about to change any time soon.

And yet, at the same time, everything had changed. Matsumoto just wasn't sure how yet.

If Hitsugaya heard one more voice whispering outside his borrowed bedroom – just one – he was going to have to kill something. Or someone. Because some certain people here just did not know how to whisper without making it so loud and grating that it cut straight through Urahara's paper-thin walls. Contrary to popular belief, talking wasn't so bad – it was background noise, and thus easy to tune out while he tried falling asleep. Whispering?

... They honestly thought they wouldn't wake him by whispering, did they?

Hitsugaya flopped onto his back and glared at the dark ceiling. It wasn't like he was made of glass, goddamn it; it was almost embarrassing enough that Matsumoto insisted on herding him to bed like a mother would her child. And he had thought Unohana was bad.

He couldn't begrudge his lieutenant, though. Although the back paperwork from his absence had been left almost entirely up to him, Matsumoto had done a pretty good job keeping the others in Karakura in line. When she was there, at least – he'd heard, mostly from Unohana, that Matsumoto had followed him back to Soul Society shortly after the nasty exorcism. Everyone seemed to be in pretty decent spirits upon his return, so he assumed it had gone well enough.

Well, on second thought, Ichigo had been far broodier than usual; it made Hitsugaya suspicious that something had happened with the kid that nobody was telling him. Either they didn't want to trouble him, or Ichigo simply didn't want anyone else to know (which was stupid, because he was more than obviously bothered by whatever it was). And if it didn't rear its head in the near future – if that happened, Hitsugaya would just deal with it when it came up – it likely wasn't a big deal, and wasn't his business. He hoped that the latter was the situation, after all the crap they'd all had to put up with of late – and so he wouldn't have to say anything to Yamamoto. Not that he was planning to say much, unless he thought it was necessary.

Tracing his fingers along the scars trailing across his chest absentmindedly, he wrinkled his nose as he heard Matsumoto shush Ikkaku loudly. There was a pattering of feet outside his door, and then the voices moved down the hall with them. Finally, some real quiet.

Hitsugaya turned back onto his side and closed his eyes, but it wasn't as easy to fall asleep as he was hoping it would be, even with the quiet. There was simply too much to think about, and not enough exhaustion to chase errant thoughts away for the night.

Like how he still never quite got the full picture of what had happened in Yamamoto's office after Karura had taken over. Bits and pieces of his memories were distorted and fuzzy, as if seen through shattered textured glass. Hyourinmaru had been eerily silent in the back of his mind of late. He could still feel the dragon's presence, but it was more subdued than usual. Part of him seemed to recall a dream that felt distant, and yet so real that sometimes he had to think twice before realizing that it had to be impossible.

... Right?

Hyourinmaru stirred in the back of his mind – he could almost see the dragon's scales shining as they brushed his subconscious – but remained silent. Hitsugaya didn't feel anger or fear from the reassuring gesture, but it seemed as though the dragon was concentrating on something and had brushed his inquiry aside like a distracted father ruffling his son's hair without looking.

And it irritated him.

Perhaps that was part of why he couldn't sleep. Hyourinmaru might have had something to do with it.

But before Hitsugaya could push his will on his own dragon spirit, the small Hollow indicator that Urahara had given him beeped twice in quick succession – making him jerk reflexively, dammit – before it began wailing.

Shit.

He fumbled his way out of the sheets and grabbed at the indicator, juggling it a bit before he managed to get a good grip on it and glare at the screen so he could figure out what it was warning him of, and thus how to make it shut the hell up. One look at the read-outs, however, and Hitsugaya pulled himself to his feet, grumbling. Menos Grande.

Pulling on his robe hastily and rushing out the bedroom door, he nearly smacked directly into Renji – who was already free of his gigai and ready to go – just on the other side. Trying not to look flustered as he straightened the front of his haori, Hitsugaya looked up at the redheaded lieutenant seriously.

“It's close by,” he said simply.

Renji grunted. “We can handle it,” he replied gruffly. He looked away from Hitsugaya when the young captain began to show signs of irritation. “Ikkaku and I are on night watch anyway.”

A likely excuse. Hitsugaya wanted to be pissed about how they were all treating him like he was made of spun glass, but instead he relaxed his shoulders and sighed. They needed to know that he still trusted them to do their jobs (they could easily handle a Menos Grande, especially after they'd dealt with Arrancar before), and he was pretty damn tired. And Hyourinmaru hadn't exactly been talkative lately, which made him... uncomfortable. Not worried. ... Really.

“Fine,” he said finally. “Just... don't make a mess. I want the report on it by noon if it goes without incident.”

Renji nodded, shoulders relaxing in relief as he turned and headed out the door, calling for Ikkaku as he left.

Hitsugaya sighed once Renji was gone. This was the second Menos Grande attack that day, and the second time that Hitsugaya had let his subordinates handle it for him. He had to admit it made him feel almost useless; even though a captain's strength shouldn't be needed to handle that level of a Hollow, he still wanted to show the others that he was fully capable of standing his own ground again.

But there was that little niggling feeling of doubt in the pit of his stomach, the part of him that reminded him of Hyourinmaru's silence causing it to gnaw further into his innards. It was getting harder to shake now that he had rather easily let Renji talk him out of going on an extermination, if it could even be called a discussion.

There will always be more, he reminded himself as he turned and trudged back to the room to try to catch at least a little more sleep.

Without the noise, it was surprisingly easy to fall asleep in spite of the remnant feelings of doubt and frustration. He didn't dream – hadn't been doing much of that lately, it seemed – but it was a deep sleep, and when his alarm woke him a few hours later, he felt rather refreshed, if not fairly startled by the sudden noise.

“Taichou!” Matsumoto's voice floated through the other side of the shoji – she'd noticed the problem as well, then. “It's Arrancar!”

... Shit. If she was actually letting him know about it, then Renji and Ikkaku likely hadn't returned from taking care of the Menos Grande. Which meant that there could be other problems at hand, and in turn spelled out a long night in Hitsugaya's mind. He jerked on his robes again, tying Hyourinmaru onto his back as he rushed out the door. Matsumoto was waiting for him, and together they rushed in the direction of the signal. It was left unspoken that Urahara would keep an eye on Orihime for them.

Hitsugaya hoped that the speed they were going masked the fact that his hands were shaking. The silence in his own subconsciousness created an empty, gaping maw that made him feel almost sick with self-doubt. Could he handle this? Hadn't he done this before?

But the moment he caught sight of the Arrancar – smirking, standing with arms crossed as if it had been waiting for them purposely – Hyourinmaru suddenly roared to life in his mind, and he lost his mind to the rush of icy wind as the dragon took over.

The Menos Grande seemed almost too easy to destroy after having fought so many Arrancar of late, Renji thought. Ikkaku had taken the initiative, launched an attack the moment they saw the towering Hollow, and before Renji could blink, it was over. He hadn't even done anything.

... It was rather annoying, actually. Renji had kind of been hoping for some sort of outlet that he could vent his frustration with. It had been quiet lately, at least since the young captain had returned to his post. Nobody knew how to address Hitsugaya anymore; it wasn't like they didn't trust him to be able to do his job correctly, but from what Matsumoto had said (in the vaguest of terms), whatever had happened in Seireitei had very nearly killed Hitsugaya. Not that Hitsugaya seemed to act in a way that indicated he'd essentially been to hell and back, but Renji couldn't help but worry for the kid. Hitsugaya had been through a hell of a lot lately.

At any rate, there hadn't been much going on, and Renji once again found himself increasingly bored. This Menos Grande venture was supposed to help him, but Ikkaku had taken care of it all too quickly. So when Ikkaku suggested they go out for drinks afterwards, Renji didn't argue.

“We should've called Rangiku and Yumi,” Ikkaku said absently as he stared at a can of Asahi that he'd picked up at a local convenience store. “They dig this kind of shit.”

Renji nodded; they would have enjoyed this too, but Hitsugaya would've caught them if they'd gone back. He stared down at his own can of alcohol, some kind of wussy fruit beverage that Ikkaku had shoved in his hands. It wasn't providing the effect he'd been hoping for – that pleasant buzz in the back of his mind that let the world fade to white noise in the background. Nope, it'd take at least half a dozen of these to get there. At least.

He took another swig and scowled. “This shit is nasty,” he said finally.

“Here, try this one instead–”

“I'll pick my own this time, thanks,” Renji growled, rummaging through the bag they'd picked up. He pulled out a bottle of sake. “You were holding out on me, you son of a bitch.”

“Hey, that one's for later, bastard!” Ikkaku grabbed for the bottle, but Renji held it up and out of the way.

“Fuck that!” Renji shoved Ikkaku's hands away and worked the cap off the bottle as quickly as he could. Taking a healthy swig out of the open bottle, he sighed contentedly as the liquid burned all the way down to his stomach.

“You're wasting it, you uncultured jackass!”

Renji smirked. “This? Still piss water, but better than that goddamned girly drink you made me drink earlier.” His face felt oddly warm, and the smirk turned into a full-fledged grin. “It'll do.”

Ikkaku opened his mouth to protest further, but the shrill wail of the damned pocket radar cut him off and made Renji jump in the process. Growling as he tried shaking some of the spilled sake off his bare arms, he shot a scowl over at Ikkaku just in time to see a wicked grin spread across the bald shinigami's face.

“'Bout fucking time,” he crowed, getting to his feet – swaying a moment as his body reminded him that they'd just been drinking as much booze as fast as they could – and looking off into the direction of the signal.

“Arrancar?” Renji asked, also getting up almost too quickly.

Ikkaku didn't answer; instead, he raced off, leaving a swearing Renji in his wake. Renji increased the length of his shunpo in order to catch up. Wait for me, you asshole!

The Arrancar, it seemed, wasn't terribly far from Urahara's shop, which could very well be an indication that the Menos Grande had shown up as an intended distraction. Matsumoto had likely picked up the signal as well. They'd have to be careful, in case this Arrancar was also ranked.

Renji nearly slipped on the ice that suddenly coated the ground beneath him, once he got close enough. Ikkaku was already skidding to a precarious stop ahead of him; Renji could barely make out his silhouette in the thickening, cold mist around them. An icy wind blew through, clearing the mist, and the mild alcohol buzz dispersed with the wind.

In the middle of the icy destruction stood a very frozen Arrancar, and just beyond it, Renji caught a glimpse of a white coat with the Tenth's kanji symbol on the back. A breath later, and the ice surrounding the Arrancar exploded in a burst of frozen wind. It was gone after that.

Hitsugaya slid his long zanpakutou back into its sheath on his back, and Renji shivered at the way the young captain's eyes practically glowed through the remaining mist. It took Renji a moment to realize that Hitsugaya hadn't even released his shikai.

Holy fucking hell.

Renji made a mental note to never piss Hitsugaya off again. Perhaps there wasn't any cause to worry over the kid's safety anymore.

If Urahara's could have been any quieter, Matsumoto was sure she would be able to hear a fly land on the wall. And Ichigo had been missing for a few days now; according to Renji, he had gone to visit some “Vaizard” guy – a term that seemed almost familiar to Matsumoto, but not quite – for training. Here she thought it had been pretty damned quiet when Hitsugaya had first returned from Seireitei. It was like walking on pins and needles now.

This time, though, it was different – instead of everyone else being so blatantly worried for Hitsugaya's sake, now they all seemed almost terrified of him. Or at least respectfully fearful. Not that she could blame them; Hitsugaya's little display with the Arrancar had been almost entirely unexpected.

She never saw Hitsugaya as a weak individual, mind, but she had never particularly seen him as frighteningly powerful. It was like a second layer of seals – above and beyond the limits placed on them by Gotei's rulings – had been lifted from whatever source that drove Hitsugaya's spirit, and Matsumoto had to admit that it did make her a little hesitant to pick on the young captain the way she had before.

But when she really thought about it, Hitsugaya seemed to notice that everyone was treading lightly around him, and yet he still acted as serious and grouchy as he had before. No more, no less – but with some obvious effort to hide an exhaustion that went far beyond the physical body.

So she tried damned hard not to treat him any differently than she had before, but... it just wasn't as easy, now that he was less a little kid and more of a leader figure. Power tended to carry a lot of followers with it; Hitsugaya's was no different, it seemed. He even looked a little more mature than he had before the entire ordeal, if her eyes weren't mistaking her.

Had Aizen's precautions against Hitsugaya so long ago really put such an impressive seal on Hitsugaya's true potential? Matsumoto couldn't help but wonder if the incident with Karura had affected Hitsugaya so much that it made him seem almost like a different person without the crow deity's presence. If that was the case, did it really take a full-blown deity to hold the young captain back? Aizen must have pulled all kinds of strings in order to be able to harness the power of otherworldly gods. And if Aizen and Gin had taken such drastic measures against Hitsugaya, then who else might they have targeted?

Did she even show up on their radar, now?

Gin...

Even now, she could still remember the smile on his face when he left to join Aizen in Hueco Mundo, and it almost made her hurt just to think about him. How he'd worked his way past her own defenses, taken her down, and then left her out to dry. It wasn't fair, sometimes.

She would have liked to think he'd given her the choice to follow him, and though she didn't regret a single moment of remaining loyal to Hitsugaya, it still hurt to have that little seed of doubt that told her she really hadn't been given the option to stay with Gin.

Then she wondered that maybe this was what Gin had intended all along. Is this Aizen's way of neutralizing me as well?

If it was, then... perhaps, it was working. And it was a damned scary thought, one that she tried desperately not to bother her while she served afternoon tea to Hitsugaya in silence.

Shinji smirked when he managed to glean news from the Kurosaki kid that the short, white-haired captain kid had come back from Soul Society alive. Maybe Yamamoto was growing soft in his old age, hm? In any case, it certainly worked in Shinji's favor – for now. Kurosaki had seemed to be a little concerned over the kid's physical condition, but from reports that Shinji had picked up, it sounded like the boy was doing just fine for himself.

Hell, even if it was only a small victory in the grand scheme of things, Shinji couldn't complain. He was going to take every goddamned little opening that Aizen gave him to bite back – and bite fucking hard. Aizen was still a punk kid in Shinji's mind; the little shit had underestimated all of them since day one, and Shinji wasn't about to let him get away with it.

Aizen wasn't entirely stupid, of course. Shinji had to stack his own deck favorably, and keep it quiet – there were still a lot of risks involved. Aizen had already noticed Ichigo, after all; that hadn't actually been in the original plan, but at least it had given Urahara a chance to gain the boy's trust. Urahara had been damned lucky the boy hadn't up and fucking died on them when that snot-nosed token noble brat captain had nearly taken him out so early on. Perhaps it had been a fortunate turn of events in the end, but Urahara had almost been too goddamned late to take advantage of it. Their plans lay in a very delicate balance, after all – one small slip-up could make things a hell of a lot more difficult. They'd already invested a lot in this plan.

Shinji watched, trying to school his bored expression as he watched Isshin's boy spar with Hiyori. As much as the girl's fiery temper made her seem like an absolute beast, she had taken a liking to Ichigo – after all, there weren't many people she'd invest so much time pounding into the ground again and again like that just to get a point across. Most people just got pounded into the ground once, and then were ignored.

Maybe it was just because Ichigo got up again and again, and Shinji was pretty sure Hiyori hadn't encountered many shinigami with the kind of fortitude it took to keep taking a beating just to gain power. Except maybe Isshin. ... Ichigo was definitely Isshin's kid.

And to think, this was only the beginning.

So, Kurosaki... Where will you take us from here?

--

resilience // finis.

Thank you for reading!! ♥!

Resilience // Part X (1)

doomcake — Fri, 04 Apr 2008 03:13:14 GMT

Title: Resilience
Rating: PG-13, borderline R
Genre: Hurt/comfort, action, psychological, divergence
Characters: Hitsugaya-centric, with plenty of Matsumoto and Renji and others. Pairings are up to interpretation.
Warnings: (for the story as a whole) lots o' foul language, mild violence, blood 'n' h/c, weird-brain-hurty, SPOILERS, craptasticness
Timeline: Divergent after the 2nd encounter with the Arrancar (manga-verse)
Beta: None. Not a smidge of editing, and I friggen' don't care.
Notes: This is indeed Resilience's final chapter, though more stories in this arc are definitely possible. Once I get to that point. 8D;

I did actually do research on the cha-no-yu (Japanese tea ceremony) for that particular scene in this chapter, although I took several liberties with the chabana (flower arrangement at the tea ceremony) due to some issues with finding information. If you do know better and catch mistakes, please do let me know! This was also not beta read, so there are likely mistakes floating around - feel free to point them out!

And last note - this arc is now going to be called the "Insurgence Arc," once it has more than just two stories. Just in case anyone was wondering?

Prequel: Endurance | ffnet link
Previous Chapters: Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX

Part X

Ichigo completely ignored Rukia's murmured protests against his chest as he carried her back towards Urahara's shop. Well, not entirely – he did tell her to shut the hell up and rest at one point – but for the most part, his mind was racing with more than enough thoughts on his own, and Rukia's tired voice wasn't helping him sort through them. Once again, he hadn't been strong enough to protect those around him, and once again, he had nearly lost control to the damned son of a bitch he had the grand misfortune of sharing a body with.

Orihime looked startled when Ichigo kicked the door down to the front of the shop, but the surprise quickly faded as Orihime assessed the situation and helped Rukia lay down once she pried herself from Ichigo's arms. Ichigo watched as Orihime looked over Rukia's wounds, ignoring as Abarai and the others crowded in behind him. Rukia hissed when Orihime hit a tender spot, and Ichigo had to turn away then.

“She's going to be fine,” he heard Orihime say in a light-hearted voice. “A little sore, but fine.”

Abarai sighed in relief behind him, echoing his own exhaled breath. Then, Ichigo burst out the door, intent on finding Shinji and demanding some goddamned answers. He hesitated only a heartbeat when he heard Rukia call his name, but ignored it as he rushed towards where he knew he could find Shinji – one of the nearer neighborhood parks. Shinji was waiting for him, perched on top of the slide with a neutral expression, body relaxed in vain confidence as if waiting, knowing that Ichigo was coming

“Shinji, you bastard, I think it's about time you explained a few things,” Ichigo growled as he approached the play structure.

A look of mock insult spread across Shinji's face. “What, no 'Why thank you, Shinji-sama, for tossing my stupid ass back in line back there?' or, 'Shinji-sama, I owe you my life for keeping me from slaughtering all my little friends, how can I ever repay you?' You should learn some manners, Kurosaki.” Shinji stood and stretched his arms over his head. “So, come to finish what you were trying to start earlier? Wanna go?”

“What the fuck did you mean when you said that shorty-taichou was just a pawn in the game?” Ichigo said, ignoring Shinji's snide remarks. “What game are you talking about here?”

Shinji sighed dramatically, leaping down from his perch to land only feet away from where Ichigo was standing. Leaning forward conspiratorially, he smiled that broad, obnoxious grin of his that made Ichigo want to punch him in the face. For a few moments, he said nothing as they stared each other down.

“Are you entirely sure you're on the right side, Ichigo?” Shinji finally said. “Because I need to know what your intentions are here. You really planning to become one of Yamamoto's lapdogs, or are you in it for keeps?”

Ichigo scowled. “The fuck – I just want people here, like my goddamned family, to stay safe. Any side that opposes what Aizen's trying to do will do for me, as long as the job gets done.”

Shinji clucked his tongue disapprovingly. “Ah, kiddo, but that is where you are mistaken. It does matter what side you're on, and I hate to break it to you, but those Gotei clowns aren't going to all make it out of this alive.”

The reply was almost like a slap to the face, and Ichigo somehow managed not to flinch. “Damn it, stop it with this vague, I-know-better-than-you shit. It's getting old, Shinji. What the fuck is going on?”

Shinji started walking towards the short outer concrete wall that surrounded the park's small perimeter. “You know very well by now – I'd hope – that there's a war coming. It's going to come down between Aizen and his faction taking over the Living World, and anyone who opposes him, which – as you know – include not only Soul Society, but Vaizard as well.”

“I knew all that, jackass.”

“Then keep listening, Kurosaki,” Shinji said, tone completely serious. “When I asked you which side you're on, that didn't include Aizen. I'm talking about which side you're gonna be on when you do oppose that bastard.”

Ichigo raised an eyebrow. “I hardly see how that matters.”

“Oh, but it does,” Shinji replied. “Here's the deal – Soul Society knows about the Vaizard. Yamamoto's known about us since the beginning, mind, not that he likes us any for it. He sees us as an abomination – a freak accident out of science and medicine and the human soul's capacity. In all honesty, I think he'd rather see us dead, much like what he tried to do with the Quincy. I'm shocked he's let you get away with running around as freely as you do now for so long; he must be blind if he didn't see that you are also Vaizard.” Shinji paused and cracked his neck. “But what he doesn't really get is the fact that we're pretty much his last line of defense, at this point. He's got such a wide open gap in his armor that he's going to have a huge surprise coming if he thinks his little pawns can handle Aizen's coming storm.”

“And why is that?” Ichigo swallowed a lump that was forming in his throat.

Then Shinji smiled, and it made the hairs on the back of Ichigo's neck stand up. “Because Aizen's been planning this for far longer than Yamamoto realizes. There are so many pitfalls and booby traps within his own goddamned troops that Yamamoto can never hope to beat someone who can literally take his entire army down piece by piece.”

A look of understanding crossed Ichigo's face. “That's why that kid captain was having trouble.”

“You're starting to get it, kid,” Shinji replied, nodding. “Aizen has been planning his destruction of Soul Society long before Hitsugaya was even alive as a human. That other white-haired captain – the one with the long hair and the nasty cough – he's not sick by any sort of unlucky kind of chance. I have to admit, as much as I hate the guy, Aizen has a great deal of talent picking out the humans who will likely pose a threat to him in the afterlife, and then he lays down traps and pitfalls within the humans' lives – and deaths – that he can trigger later on to break them as easily as snapping toothpicks.”

Ichigo raised an eyebrow in surprise. “You're saying that they planned to have that white-haired kid break down long before he was even a shinigami?” he said, doubt edging into his tone.

“You'd be surprised, Kurosaki,” Shinji replied. “I guess you really don't quite get what you're up against, do you?”

The smug self-assurance with which Shinji regarded Ichigo started to make the younger man even more irritated than he was before, but it was pretty obvious that Shinji did know a great deal more about the situation than Ichigo had ever been privy to with Soul Society. Not that he was officially part of their organization, but they didn't seem to mind including him when it suited their purposes.

Shinji had a few good points going, here. But it still didn't make Ichigo like him any more.

“Wait a second – how do I fit into all of this?” Ichigo suddenly asked, suspicious.

The smile that spread across Shinji's face made Ichigo shudder. “That's because you're the trump card, Kurosaki,” he said slowly. “Aizen wasn't expecting someone like you to come along, because you were the result of something that should have worked in his favor. That's the main reason why Soul Society has been so welcoming to you, even as an outsider brat – I think Yamamoto's figured out that you're really their last line of defense.”

Ichigo wasn't sure what to say to that; it seemed like a lot of pressure to him, but at the same time... hadn't he pledged to do whatever it took to protect his family and friends? He swallowed painfully around a lump in his throat.

“I think you're starting to get the idea that this is serious shit,” Shinji said approvingly.

“And you're telling me that the Vaizard stand a better chance against Aizen than the Gotei captains do, because...?”

“Because Aizen underestimates our potential,” Shinji replied. “Sounds a lot like Yama-jii, doesn't it? He also thought we were a freak accident – he's half the reason why we're not part of Soul Society. But he's got another thing coming, if he thinks he can dismiss us so easily.”

Frowning, Ichigo opened his mouth to ask the first thing that came to mind – why, if Aizen was so goddamned fucking smart, would he ignore a pretty blatant threat like the Vaizard? But then he really thought about it, and remembered that the Vaizard were vastly outnumbered, and it sounded like Aizen had already had bad dealings with Shinji and company in the past. Maybe that's why Aizen hadn't really paid much attention to them – they were a small outcast faction that he didn't think had enough power to pose a threat in the upcoming war.

“So you really think that one more person would make that big of a difference?” Ichigo asked, still doubtful about the entire situation. Hell, he hardly knew what to think anymore.

“That, my boy, is where you've entirely underestimated yourself,” he said, his flat-toothed grin growing even broader than it had been before.

Ichigo waited for more explanation, but after a few moments of staring down Shinji, he knew he wasn't going to get one without some sort of commitment on his part. He took several deep breaths; hell, he was already pretty damn far into this mess as it was. What difference would one more step down the rabbit hole make? It wasn't like he was breaking his ties with Soul Society or its shinigami, really.

... He hoped.

“What do you want from me?” he finally said, sighing.

Against all anatomical odds, Shinji's grin had to have broken some kind of record as it grew even wider. “That's more like it, Kurosaki. Exactly what I wanted to hear.”

Urahara was at it again.

Renji knew this, mainly because he hadn't seen the man in freaking days now, and he'd been around Urahara's shop for most of that time. For sake of simplicity, Renji had made the executive decision of making Orihime stay there, except when they all went to school together. It seemed odd to him that they were all staying at Urahara's when they rarely saw him, but Renji was pretty sure Urahara didn't care. Wherever he was. Probably in the lab that Renji was sure was hidden somewhere around the shop itself.

The tension that had built steadily just after the latest attack had faded by now. Rukia was fine, with hardly a mark on her – Orihime's skills seemed to become more fine-tuned and honed every time she used them – and Ichigo had finally stopped moping around like a whiny, petulant child. He was still pretty quiet, even when Rukia tried almost endlessly to get answers out of him regarding the blond-haired guy they'd seen at the fight, but at least he wasn't being so goddamned tetchy anymore.

... Except now that Ichigo wasn't so easily goaded, Renji decided things had become pretty damn boring again. Rangiku still hadn't returned from Soul Society, and none of them had heard any word on Hitsugaya-taichou's condition. Renji had to admit that he wondered if something really bad had happened while they were gone – Rangiku seemed worried as hell when she left – but it was really hard to tell.

Renji hated being left out of the loop. It made him feel vulnerable, in case something else came up that he wouldn't know how to handle responsibly because he didn't have enough information. He wondered if this was how Hitsugaya-taichou felt when he was in charge, and didn't have all the pieces to the puzzle.

Who was that blond kid anyway? He'd seemed pretty capable of handling the Arrancar, and even handling Ichigo in his transformed state. Ichigo seemed to know him, too – and hadn't Renji seen the guy around school before? It was so fucking confusing, sometimes.

So was the situation with Orihime. Why the hell did Aizen want someone whose skill set included a great deal of healing and barrier-creating, and nothing more? Orihime was useful in times of battle, to be sure, but she wasn't a fighter, not in the least. And it seemed like Aizen had no shortage of Arrancar – who were practically indestructible anyway, it seemed – so he wouldn't necessarily need a healer to keep his army up. Renji scrubbed his face with his hand; none of this made any fucking sense.

He stared at the homework he was supposed to be doing for school – what a joke history homework is, he found himself thinking with wry amusement – and decided he should at least try to be productive. It wasn't like he had anything better to do right now, except train down in Urahara's underground training lair. Ikkaku was likely down there, working on improving his bankai (Renji wasn't supposed to know about it, but he did anyway). He had no clue where Yumichika was, and part of him really didn't want to know. Rukia was in the room with him, completely absorbed in an art class project.

The homework assignment took him a grand total of ten minutes, and after that, Renji decided he'd been more than productive enough, and that he hated being this damn bored. Slamming his textbook closed, he summoned a hell butterfly and – ignoring Rukia's bewildered stares – began relaying an angry message to Matsumoto demanding some goddamned answers and oh yeah, where the fuck are you?

“Renji,” Rukia said, voice low in warning. “That really isn't necessary.”

Renji shot a glare at her, then stared back at the waiting butterfly. No... no, it wasn't necessary, and he really did know that. Damn it, he was even the same rank as Rangiku – lieutenant, second-in-command of a division. It was just... well, Rangiku had been a lieutenant for longer, and with a captain like Byakuya, there weren't exactly many opportunities to be a true leader.

Suck it up and be a man, Abarai, he told himself. Clearing his throat, he looked back at Rukia – she was still staring intently at him, and he couldn't hold it for long. He looked away again and back at the butterfly, and with a quick chant, cleared the initial message and sent a new, simpler, much more to-the-point one:

Requesting an update. Abarai-fukutaichou.

The butterfly delicately lifted itself into the air and disappeared. Renji shot another look back at Rukia, who was concentrating – by all appearances – intently on her art project again; but he didn't miss the small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

All he had to do now was wait.

... Damn it.

Three hours passed, and just before Rukia decided to throw a binding kidou at Renji, a hell butterfly appeared and hovered in front of Renji's scowling face. Renji blinked a few times, almost forgetting that he had been waiting for that particular response, and then nearly smashed the poor messenger butterfly to pieces when he grabbed at it to find the message it carried.

“Where are you? Go to Orihime-chan's apartment for a call.”

Renji looked up at Rukia – who had also heard the message – and she nodded. “I'll keep an eye on Orihime-chan,” she said quietly. “Ichigo should be back soon, too.”

Renji thanked her, and then scrambled for a light jacket and shoes as he headed out the door, relieved to know that Ran had managed to get back to him, but concerned that it had taken her an entire three hours to send that message. Unless, of course, she had been trying to call the communications portal in Orihime's apartment the entire time (but not for an entire three hours, he hoped).

Hitsugaya winced as he shifted uncomfortably under Yamamoto's intense, cool stare. They were in one of the First Division's traditional tea rooms, kneeling across from a cha-no-yu setting on the tatami mat floor. It didn't matter that in the tea ceremony, rank was traditionally equalized between tea master and guest; the feeling just didn't permeate the room, leaving the atmosphere thick with tension. The formality of the ceremony was almost embarrassing to Hitsugaya, though he felt almost a vindictive hope that it was a sign that Yamamoto was feeling guilty for how he'd handled the situation with Karura.

They had foregone the nakadachi in favor of not making Hitsugaya move around excessively, the young captain swallowed several sips of water and washed his hands with a warm cloth in ritual purification, having trouble not letting his hands shake under Yamamoto's gaze. The older captain finally looked away as he placed a tall, freshly-woven bamboo basket of flowers in between them. A simple chabana arrangement consisting of a knobby twig, a breathtakingly beautiful white fringed iris with blue and orange patterns on its drooping petals, and a tall grass caught Hitsugaya almost by surprise. The iris could mean anything in this case. It was somewhat insulting, for the flower arrangement to leave him wondering what Yamamoto truly meant by it.

The fact that Yamamoto had chosen a tea ceremony now seemed almost ironic to Hitsugaya. It was hardly becoming a place of reconciliation, or of celebrating a return to health for the younger captain. What was the purpose of this requested audience, anyway?

It had taken over a week before Unohana would allow Hitsugaya to have an audience with Yamamoto – the old man really must have infuriated the healer, Hitsugaya realized later – and while it had been frustrating at first, Hitsugaya was feeling rather unsettled now that he was finally here. Yama-jii's face was never a good place to look for any sort of indication of what the old captain was thinking; it certainly wasn't helping now. Hitsugaya shifted again, ignoring the small aches as he did so.

They proceeded through the cha-no-yu ceremony in relative silence – broken only by the ritual exchanges as was customary – Yamamoto preparing and serving the tea while Hitsugaya politely waited through the traditional steps. Once they were finished with the formal end of the ceremony, Yamamoto straightened fully and regarded Hitsugaya with that same irritatingly blank stare that told Hitsugaya nothing of what was to come.

“We have a great deal to discuss, Hitsugaya-taichou,” Yamamoto finally said. Hitsugaya had to restrain a snort at the comment; of course they had a lot to talk about. That was the whole reason he'd even bothered to climb out of the infirmary to get there. “There are a lot of things that I need to tell you, now that you're in the right state of mind to be able to handle them.”

Hitsugaya was slightly taken aback. Right state of mind? As if he had been incapable of thinking clearly on his own before – he tried hard not to let the insult show on his face, hoping that Yamamoto really hadn't meant it that way. He said nothing, waiting for the older captain to continue speaking.

“Aizen and his cohorts placed a rather unfortunate curse upon you long before you ever came to us, Hitsugaya-kun. It appears that our enemy has even been consorting with the gods of other realms outside Soul Society – he must have discovered your affinity with the ancient dragon lords long ago, and had Gin send you one of the Karura, letting it sit dormant within you before you ever joined Gotei.”

“One of the Karura?” Hitsugaya vaguely recalled both Yamamoto (and Hyourinmaru, if that hadn't been a dream) addressing the beast dwelling in him as “Karura,” but he hadn't realized it was in reference to it as part of a whole. A race of beings, perhaps?

“The Karura are harmless guardian entities, in their most natural states. But as the old folk tale says, there is a feud between the dragons and the crows – around all naga, including the dragons, Karura often turn violent and will try to consume their perceived enemies.”

Ah. If this feud was part of lore, there was likely truth to it, and Aizen probably had known about that ahead of time. And if that was the case... “Aizen must have seen Hyourinmaru before my death, then.”

Yamamoto nodded slowly. “It is possible that either Gin or Aizen – perhaps both – knew of your connection with the dragons, and knew that they could use the Karura against it. There are rare cases in which zanpakutou begin to materialize long before the death of a human's soul. Ukitake's zanpakutou did the same.”

Ukitake-taichou? The revelation came as a bit of a surprise to Hitsugaya; perhaps that was why the sickly, white-haired captain seemed to have some kind of attachment to him. Aside from them both having white hair – unless that had something to do with it as well? But that is beside the point in this conversation.

“So Karura became more of a curse for me. Why now? Why not when Hyourinmaru first awoke here in Soul Society?” There had to be some kind of explanation.

“That much, we're uncertain of. Aizen or Gin may have placed in some kind of failsafe – a trigger, if you will – in your subconscious, and it somehow managed to activate recently. It would account for a lot of the changes you've been experiencing of late. I had you come back from the Living World as soon as I realized what was going on. If we had waited any longer, Karura would have started to consume Hyourinmaru – and you, by extension. It could have rendered you incapable of your duties as a shinigami, if it didn't kill you first.”

The ordeal with the puppet-hollow – perhaps that was some kind of trigger, to break the seal on Karura. It would lend a motive to what had seemingly been a random attack at the time.

Hitsugaya frowned, the last half of what Yamamoto had said sinking in. “Then why the farce with the interrogation, if you knew? Why not just tell me outright?” Why let it become so damned deadly first?

Yamamoto breathed deeply through his nose, and out through his mouth. Then he spoke. “The Karura spirit in you didn't need to wait as long as it did before it attacked. Because it was linked to your subconsciousness, we couldn't keep you informed; it would have been like sharing information directly with the enemy. We had to let it think it was winning until the moment we were ready to perform the actual exorcism.”

So they had been preparing a ritual, trying to keep Karura out of the loop. That much makes sense, but... “What was in the serum?”

“The only thing that can ward against an angered Karura is liquid blessed and purified by a Buddhist priest. What we gave you was exactly that – it was essentially a talisman, intended to help protect you and Hyourinmaru from Karura.”

That would explain what the serum was and why Karura seemed to act up when it was introduced, but that still didn't explain why he seemed to have such a bad reaction to it. Hitsugaya had a bad feeling that Yamamoto wasn't telling him everything, and worse, he probably would never tell. He resisted the urge to wrinkle his nose in distaste, and to call Yamamoto out on the situation anyway – it wouldn't do anything but likely irritate the old man, and Hitsugaya wouldn't get the information he wanted.

Instead, Hitsugaya remained silent and kept an even stare with Yamamoto's, whose eyes were glittering beneath the narrow opening between the old man's wrinkled eyelids. There was almost a challenge there, and Hitsugaya felt more and more upset and less comfortable the longer he was in the man's presence.

“I wish things hadn't needed to be that way, Hitsugaya-kun, but you do need to understand that if Karura had completely taken over your body, there would have been far more trouble than what we faced in my office that day. I don't think you would have wanted to live with that,” Yamamoto finally said.

That still isn't an apology, Hitsugaya noted. But as much as Hitsugaya hated to admit it, Yamamoto had a point – even if he absolutely did not agree with the method, nor did he think he was getting the full story, the main issue was that Karura had been stopped. He wasn't sure he could have lived with himself if Karura had managed to cause more devastating problems in his own body than the crow deity already had. Shaking his head slightly to clear the gruesome images that accompanied that thought, he remained silent for a few moments.

“... Why go through all that trouble?” he asked, after several moments' pause. “Why me?”

“Aizen's war has already begun, no matter what kind of warning he gave us.” Yamamoto hesitated, and again, Hitsugaya got the feeling that he was getting a very abridged version of the whole explanation. “And I don't think you are the only one that Aizen has targeted in this manner. I have a feeling that there are far more... surprises in store for us in the near future.”

Of course there are, Hitsugaya carefully didn't say aloud. Aizen's obviously planned this a long while back; he's a top-class strategist. There's no way in hell he wouldn't keep far more cards up his sleeve than necessary.

... But if Aizen had planned this out ahead of time, and this Karura deity was supposed to incapacitate me, then why am I still alive? Hitsugaya shuddered at the thought. Aizen's plan couldn't have simply failed, could it? Wishful thinking, at best. If that is indeed his intention – to kill me, or take down Yamamoto's other defenses.

There has to be something else coming.

Yamamoto's cool stare was on him again, and Hitsugaya brought himself back to the conversation at hand and nodded slightly. Yes, Aizen had surprises for them. He would have to take some time to process this information, and certainly not in front of Yamamoto.

“Is that all you wished to say to me?” he asked, hesitantly.

Yamamoto's eyelids flared open almost imperceptibly. “I also want to caution you, in regards to vice-captain Hinamori Momo.”

Hitsugaya almost flinched, as if he'd been slapped. Almost. He hadn't seen that coming, to be honest, though he really should have. There had been far too many issues surrounding his childhood friend of late. Carefully – “H-Hinamori? What does she have to do with this?”

“I am afraid that Aizen's hypnosis still has a stranglehold on her ability to make sound judgments.” Yamamoto paused, studying Hitsugaya seriously. The younger captain fidgeted. “Until we can tell otherwise, I would like you to proceed with extreme caution when discussing important matters around Hinamori-fukutaichou.”

Of course not. Hitsugaya had figured out quite some time ago that there was still something not quite right in Momo's mind. Aizen had horribly confused her, and he couldn't blame her if she just needed the time to get things sorted out properly in her mind. Until she did, she was a liability – a dangerous one, at that. He chose to say nothing of this to Yamamoto; the old man already knew that, obviously.

He bowed his head slightly in an obedient gesture. “Yes, Yamamoto-soutaichou.”

“Might I ask a favor of you as well, Hitsugaya-taichou?”

Ah. Yamamoto was now back to using formalities – the previous conversation was now over, and the old man had a business proposition. Hitsugaya quirked an eyebrow. “Sir?”

“Once you return to your post in Karakura, I'd like you to keep an eye on Kurosaki-san.”

Hitsugaya's eyebrow rose higher. The tone Yamamoto used... without having said a word on the matter, Hitsugaya knew immediately that Yamamoto did not want Kurosaki – or any of his other subordinates, here in Soul Society or Karakura – to know about this request. Yamamoto wanted him to spy on Kurosaki.

The air felt thick and heavy around the tea room now, and it made Hitsugaya shift again in his seat. What are you planning to do with this information, Yama-jii? What are your plans for Ichigo now?

He didn't have a choice, however. Not in his current position, at his current state of health. Again, he had to strongly keep his expression neutral to suppress a snarl. “I will do as you request, Yamamoto-soutaichou,” he said, proud that his voice was as even and neutral as he'd intended it to be.

Yamamoto's eyes narrowed as his lips curled up into what could almost be called a smile, if Yamamoto was even capable. He seemed pleased enough. “Please take care of your health, Hitsugaya-taichou,” he said, friendly but crisply fake.

Hitsugaya bowed as low as he was able. “Thank you, Soutaichou.”

He stood, wincing as his aches complained over the time spent in a sitting position, and made his exit as properly as he could. As he left the room, he took a deep breath, reveling in how much lighter the air was outside the tea room – or how heavy it had been inside. Though it lifted what felt like a heavy burden off his back, Hitsugaya still felt drained, and knew he would be spent for the day once he made it back to his own quarters. He hated feeling this weak and vulnerable, but at least it gave him time to think over the strange, uncomfortable conversation.

Perhaps there was some merit to the backlash being murmured through some of the ranks in Gotei – there had been a lot of doubt that Yamamoto could capably and effectively lead Gotei against the coming war with Aizen. These had surfaced just after Aizen's (and his companions') betrayal, in the midst of a lot of confusion and reorganization. And now that Hitsugaya had had the chance to discuss a few of the pending issues with Yamamoto, as subtle as the inferences had been, Hitsugaya began to entertain thoughts along the same line. His stomach clenched painfully, and he knew it had nothing to do with his wounds.

Part IX | continued in X part two

Resilience // part IX, section two

doomcake — Wed, 17 Oct 2007 09:37:37 GMT

There were only three this time.

Only, of course, being a comparative term. The last time, there had been only five, and it had taken nearly all the Shinigami currently taking temporary residence in the Living World to keep them at bay. At least now they knew exactly what the Arrancar were after – apparently, something about Inoue had caught Aizen's eye.

Ichigo wasn't about to let them have her. They'd nearly lost her to Hueco Mundo in the last major Arrancar attack; if Urahara hadn't seen through their ruse and insisted Inoue stay in Soul Society until he could safely escort her back to the Living World, she probably would have been in their hands by now. This time, however, Inoue wasn't in the relative safety of Seireitei's gates, and they were one captain and his lieutenant fewer than the last time they'd fought the Arrancar.

Ichigo hoped that Renji had stuck to his own damn plan and had taken her to Urahara as soon as he'd sensed the Arrancar's arrival (who the hell couldn't sense the damn things?). He had almost insisted that Rukia stay behind as well – images of what Grimmjow had done to her the last time still haunted him at night – but he knew it would be a futile effort, so he didn't even bother trying this time around. She was running next to him, both of them heading in the direction of Ichigo's father's clinic, where it seemed there was the strongest concentration of foul reiatsu.

Yumichika met him with serious eyes and a curt nod not too far from the Kurosaki clinic; Ikkaku was likely close behind. That was good – at least three against three, possibly four in their favor. If all had gone according to plan, Renji would be on his way as well.

There. Ichigo could see the outlines of reiatsu now, just a matter of blocks down the road. He turned and checked to see if Rukia was behind him – he knew she was there; he could sense her there, but he needed the visual confirmation – and she nodded back at him, but her gaze suddenly shot past him and widened. She barely had time to shout a warning as Ichigo turned and nearly collided with a rather tall, lanky Arrancar, built much like Grimmjow but with more wire and less brute strength. The Arrancar grunted as Ichigo brushed past him, and then turned and skid to a halt with his hand on the hilt of Zangetsu. He paused, feeling as though the Arrancar was going to say something – a scathing remark on the fact that Ichigo had nearly run into him, or perhaps a demeaning slur about Ichigo's skills and a comparison to Grimmjow.

Grimmjow isn't here, Ichigo noticed suddenly, and the realization left him both relieved and oddly frustrated.

Instead of a rude greeting like Grimmjow would have issued, this Arrancar said not a word and didn't give him the luxury. No rank announcement, either - this guy might not even be an Espada. With a sharp scrape of metal against wood, Ichigo's opponent drew his zanpakutou and charged. Ichigo quickly pulled Zangetsu's larger blade up to knock the Arrancar's thrust away from his body, and then he propelled himself backwards and skid on the air currents, holding his sword pointed out in front of him as he faced the Arrancar. He drew in a deep breath.

"Ban– shit!" Another Arrancar cut off the release of Ichigo's bankai with several bala, forcing Ichigo off his stance in order to deflect the energy bullets.

Clearly, these guys weren't up for sitting around and gauging their opponent, Ichigo realized morosely. Unless he got a good chance, he wasn't going to be able to even think about releasing his bankai, and if these Arrancar were anything like Grimmjow or the other ones they had encountered before, he was going to be in deep trouble.

Ichigo didn't even register Rukia's sharp call until he saw the first Arrancar freeze mid-attack just a few feet in front of him; she had released her shikai from behind the Arrancar. Her stern eyes met his for a moment, and he nodded. She had given him just enough time.

"Bankai!" Ichigo roared.

Matsumoto's voice floated softly through the traditional shoji that surrounded the rooms of the fourth division's infirmary rooms. Hinamori hadn't really noticed before, but the more she listened, the more she realized that the Tenth's lieutenant had a rather soothing cadence to the way she spoke. It almost made Hinamori jealous, but at the same time, she simply couldn't bring herself to interrupt it.

"Renji snores when he's asleep. He doesn't like admitting it, but it's pretty loud. He's in charge there right now, just in case you were wondering who I left running the outpost." There was a brief pause, and then, "You know, I hope you wake up soon, because that probably wasn't the best idea I've ever had."

Hinamori stifled a small giggle with her hand. Even though Matsumoto was clearly worried about her captain, she still had the mental fortitude to keep at least a mild sense of humor in such a tense situation. That too made Hinamori almost envious of the buxom woman, especially since she clearly had a close bond with Hinamori's childhood friend. Not that Hinamori wasn't willing to share, of course; it was more the fact that she felt as though her time in a coma had put her a little out of the loop on many things.

Hitsugaya had been hurt that time as well, she recalled. He had healed enough to go back on duty long before she had awakened, so she often forgot that he too had nearly died during that confusing time. Simply thinking about it gave Hinamori a headache. There had to have been some kind of mistake; Aizen wasn't the type of person to do that to anyone.

She peered through the crack between the slightly-parted shoji into what had become Hitsugaya's room, and was almost surprised to see how lifeless Hitsugaya looked. His pale face took on a glassy sheen from sweat reflecting in the dim light, though his features looked almost too relaxed. Matsumoto sat beside Hitsugaya's pallet, clasping his closest hand with one of her own. One of the Fourth's seated officers sat on the other side, eyes closed in concentration, hands glowing as they hovered over Hitsugaya's chest. He had to have been badly hurt if they still were working on his wounds even after Unohana had done her work. Hinamori's heart sank; Kiyone had not exaggerated the situation at all, much to Hinamori's dismay. Aizen couldn't have done that to Shirou-chan – he hadn't done it.

This was Gin's fault. Hadn't she heard them talking about Gin not too long before, when they'd first brought Hitsugaya to the Fourth's ward? Aizen simply wasn't that cruel. … Was he?

Hinamori chewed on her lower lip, frustrated at the small knot of doubt tightening in her stomach. Aizen had never failed her before – those weren't Aizen's eyes looking at her, when she had nearly been killed all those months ago. Those were the eyes of someone else entirely; someone cold and cruel. Gin's eyes – when they were actually visible – were just like that.

A low groan startled Hinamori out of her train of thought, and her eyes snapped back to Hitsugaya's still form. Matsumoto had placed her free hand on the young captain's forehead, whispering soothing words.

She couldn't watch anymore; watching only made her angry and frustrated, and Hitsugaya certainly didn't need that right now in his situation. He needed to pull through, and if he didn't, Hinamori was sure that not even the threat of eternal hell could stop her from storming to Hueco Mundo and extracting payment from Gin herself.

By the time Renji arrived at the scene of the fight, there wasn’t much left. Strewn bodies of dying Arrancar lay in haphazard fashion, Ichigo at the clear center of the carnage. The orange-haired boy stood with his back straight, facing away from Renji.

Renji let out a low whistle. “Well, it looks like you didn’t need my help this time, Kurosaki.” Ichigo’s face half-turned towards him. “What, no Grimmjow this time to– holy shit, what the–!”

He barely had time to bring up Zabimaru for protection before Ichigo nearly flew into him, half his face covered in a white mask, revealing an unnaturally wide grin and dark black eyes with yellow irises. Ichigo’s weight slammed heavily into Renji, buffered only by the clashing of swords between them; the soles of Renji’s feet burned as they skimmed against the pavement.

“What the fuck, Kurosaki? It’s me, you dumbass!” Renji roared, locking eyes with Ichigo.

The laugh coming from Ichigo’s broad smile sounded warped – it wasn’t his voice. Renji’s mind raced as he looked around for an explanation. Clearly, Ichigo had been the one to demolish the three invading Arrancar with little trouble, but as his eyes scanned quickly over the battlefield, they fell on Rukia’s prone body.

Fuck.

Renji gritted his teeth and snarled, “You goddamned piece of shit–”

“Abarai, stop!” It was Yumichika’s voice, and Renji saw him pulling himself gingerly to his feet across the now-broken intersection of road over Ichigo’s shoulder. “Kurosaki didn’t hurt Rukia!”

Oh. Oh. Ichigo had pulled out that crazy-assed mask of his, and Rukia had been hurt in the fight. Renji wasn’t an idiot; he knew how the punk kid felt about Rukia, and knew that it could have been enough to see Rukia felled to put a chink in Ichigo’s usually rock solid armor.

“How the hell do we change him back, then?” Renji shouted back, pushing against Zangetsu with all his strength.

“I – I don’t know,” Yumichika replied uneasily.

“You’re both idiots,” the distorted voice snickered from Ichigo’s mouth. “There will be no changing back. I am Kurosaki Ichigo now.”

“Like hell I’m going to believe that!” Renji shoved “Ichigo” away from him, and ran his hand over Zabimaru’s jagged blade. “Howl, Zabimaru!”

A sudden flash of light overhead pulled Renji’s attention away from his target just long enough for him to see a figure wearing a similar Hollow-like mask; it was heading straight for Ichigo.

“Renji, move!”

Renji wasn’t sure if it was Rukia’s voice that brought him out of his stupor, or if it was the sudden realization that he was about to get pounded into the pavement that did it – he performed several shunpo to the side, dodging chunks of concrete as they crossed his path. On his way out of the intersection, he passed by Rukia and scooped her off the ground as gently as he could at the speed he was going. He was joined by Yumichika on the flat roof of a nearby building.

“Who the hell is that?” Renji demanded once he’d stopped moving.

“I don’t know,” Yumichika replied. “He kind of looks like that one weird new kid from school, but it’s hard to tell with that mask on his face.” He looked up, frowning. “Do you think that–”

“That guy was talking with Kurosaki earlier,” Ikkaku said suddenly from behind them.

Yumichika whirled, glaring. “And where the hell were you just now?”

“None of your fuckin’ business,” Ikakku snapped. “But look – he’s not trying to kill Kurosaki, just slowin’ him down. I don’t think he’s an enemy, but he’s certainly no normal kid.”

“No shit,” Renji replied.

Rukia cleared her throat from Renji’s arms, squirming to get his attention. Renji almost forgot he’d been carrying her, and that she was–

Shit!

“You can put me down now, Renji,” Rukia stated evenly, in that tone she only used when she was dangerously irritated.

Renji didn’t care and glared at her. “Last I checked, you weren’t in much mood for walking on your own.”

“I’m fine,” Rukia snapped back, pushing against Renji’s broad chest. “Now put me down, or I swear on Sode no Shiroyuki that I will–”

“Fine, fine,” Renji said, not wanting to squabble. He put her on her feet, holding her steady as she wobbled only slightly before she regained her balance. “Happy now?”

She said nothing, and instead turned to watch the fight. Ichigo – or that damned freak that apparently still lived in him – seemed to be having trouble against the strange blond boy’s onslaught, and it wasn’t long before Zangetsu was knocked away and “Ichigo” was slammed backwards into a building. Before “Ichigo” could move, the boy was there, a sword in hand, pointed at the impostor’s throat.

“The fuck– that’s a zanpakutou!” Ikkaku suddenly exclaimed.

Renji’s eyes widened; there couldn’t be more than one rogue shinigami around this town, could there? They all watched with startled expressions as the blond boy’s hand shot out and grabbed “Ichigo”’s mask, giving it a sharp tug before it shattered into pieces, leaving Ichigo’s wide brown eyes blinking back in utter confusion.

Rukia sighed loudly beside him in relief; he couldn’t agree more, though he couldn’t deny that he wanted to hear an explanation for all this freakish shit. A quick shunpo brought him back to the intersection, and even before he could reach out a hand to grab the wiry shoulder of the blond kid, a thin hand closed around his wrist in an iron grip.

“I’m not the enemy, Red,” the boy said evenly.

“I know that, damn it,” Renji began, snatching his wrist away. “But–” The boy cut him off with a flick of his hand. He turned to pin Renji with a hard stare.

“I’m sure you’re all very confused by now, but just so you know, the only one you should blame is Kurosaki here for being so damn reckless,” the boy replied, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at Ichigo. He whirled again to face Ichigo.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Shinji?” Ichigo demanded.

“It means that just because you haven’t been specifically singled out by Aizen’s master plans, kiddo, it doesn’t mean you’re Mr. Invincible,” the boy – Shinji – retorted. Renji’s brow furrowed; how the hell did this Shinji know of Aizen? “You know better than to lose control like that – I thought you’d learned your lesson from training, but noooo.”

“I thought I had control, jackass!”

“Well, then explain what the hell just happened, then!”

“Fuck you, Shinji. Fuck. You.”

“You’re too valuable of a fighter to let yourself slip like that, Kurosaki. You know that.”

Ichigo looked away. “It won’t happen again.”

Shinji folded his arms, regarding Ichigo with a smirk. “Prove it, then.” When Ichigo reached for his zanpakutou, Shinji cut him off with a wave of his hand. “No, not now, idiot. Later – we’re obviously not done with your training just yet. You still have to hold up your part of the deal, don’t forget.”

Ichigo scowled at his back as Shinji turned to face Renji. He pinned Renji with a solemn stare, which startled him.

“Keep an eye on him, Abarai.”

And before Renji could finish sputtering long enough to ask Shinji how the fuck he knew his name, Shinji was no longer there.

Ikkaku and Yumichika arrived just as Shinji left, both giving Ichigo weird looks. Ichigo looked away, face red. He knew, the dumb shit – and Renji was going to demand the explanation out of him just as soon as they saw to Rukia’s injuries.

Hitsugaya wasn't sure when he began realizing he was awake. He knew he had been aware for some time, but hadn't moved to open his eyes – it felt good, just resting like this. Small pains and aches in his chest would flare up every so often, but as those became less frequent, he found it much easier to simply relax. It had been far too long since he'd been able to do that last.

Part of his mind recalled hearing Matsumoto's voice, speaking softly from beside him. He wondered where he was – at his makeshift office in Orihime's small apartment, perhaps – but it didn't seem important just yet. She was probably just letting him sleep. She had been worried a great deal lately about–

Something was wrong. This wasn't his office, he realized suddenly; he wasn't even in the realm of the Living. Scrambling desperately for an explanation, he tried recalling the last thing that had happened before he had dozed off, and couldn't remember anything except pain and the pungent scent of his own sweat and fear. Where the hell was he? What had happened? He inhaled sharply, eyelids flying open in a sudden panic, crying out as his vision went white from a deep, stabbing pain in his chest. Oh god, ohgodohgodohgod–

A small pressure squeezing his hand chased the panicked blur away from his vision, and the white light faded to the dimmed outline of a dark ceiling. Trying to recapture lost breath, he breathed harshly, listening to the sound of his own soft wheezing that accompanied dull pain resonating from deep within his lungs. Wanting to see what had trapped his hand, he slowly turned his head to the side and saw a petite silhouette laying on the floor beside his futon, one soft hand gripping his.

Hinamori.

Closing his eyes, he took an experimental deep breath, and noticed that it hurt less when he breathed through his nose slowly. Hinamori was sleeping next to his futon, holding his hand the way she used to when he was sick during their childhood in Rukongai. There was no danger here. The thought helped calm him, making him want to simply drift back to the relaxed state of semi-consciousness so that he could enjoy the moment.

"H-Hitsugaya-taichou?" a soft voice on the other side of the futon whispered, nearly startling him. Hitsugaya's eyes opened again to see Hanatarou's concerned face hovering above him. "Ah! You are awake!"

Hitsugaya frowned, trying again to piece together what had happened – this time without the panic and the pain – and then it occurred to him that he knew exactly where he was: the infirmary in the Fourth Division.

"–cry out earlier; are you still in pain?" Hanatarou was saying.

Hitsugaya blinked, trying to clear his throat so he could answer. "What… happened?" he croaked, the harsh sound of his own voice surprising him.

Hanatarou's face was illuminated in the light of a healing kidou, the feel of the healer's reiatsu foreign and strange as it poured into his chest and chased away some of the remnant pain. "Don't try to speak too much, Hitsugaya-taichou. Unohana-taichou will be by soon to check on you, and she can answer any questions you might have then." Hanatarou's voice stayed low, his eyes fixed on his own hands as he spoke, brow furrowed in concentration.

“Matsu…Matsumoto?” Hitsugaya asked suddenly – she had been there, hadn't she? If she had been there, then who was looking after their detail in the Living World? He tried sitting up, but Hanatarou pressed harder on his sore chest.

“Matsumoto is resting, Hitsugaya-taichou,” Hanatarou replied with a stern glare. “Please, don't strain yourself. You need to rest.”

Hanatarou's orders were probably sound - if Hanatarou's strength was enough to hold him down, he was likely very weak. Embarrassing as it was, he felt too exhausted to even care about his pride at this point. A sleeping Hinamori wouldn't care, and so far she was the only witness aside from Hanatarou.

He closed his eyes again, trying to piece together what had happened. It made sense that he would be here in the Fourth Division, but the details were fuzzy. He felt mildly disoriented - some time had passed since he last recalled anything clearly, and even then he couldn't quite recall what it was that had brought him back to Seireitei aside from the fact that it had been important - but now that he knew where he was, it didn't cause him any sort of panic. Matsumoto was there with him, and if she was resting, it was likely that he had been unconscious for some time now and that she had been there with him for much of it. It did cross his mind that he had questions for Hanatarou, but when he opened his eyes to ask them, Hanatarou was gone.

So was Hinamori. In her place, there sat a small stuffed dragon next to the makura, visible seams and button eyes giving away its handmade nature. Frowning, he wondered who had made it, and when it had been placed there.

He had drifted off again, and hadn't even realized it. Swallowing painfully - his mouth felt as though it had been stuffed with cotton - he noticed that the sun was out; its rays peeked through the cracks of the shoji on the far side of the room, but he couldn't tell what time of day it was at this angle. His head felt like a weighted metal ball, and his eyes stung with grit from sleep and exhaustion. Simply laying still made him feel mildly dizzy and extremely light-headed. Even when he had been badly wounded, he hadn't felt quite this--

Hanatarou had put him under on purpose, the bastard.

"Glad to see you awake again, Hitsugaya." Hitsugaya flinched in surprise when he heard Unohana's gentle voice from above his head, but calmed quickly when he realized who was in the room with him. "Hanatarou told me that you had regained consciousness yesterday before dawn, but had to put you back to sleep. Were you misbehaving, young one?"

Hitsugaya hadn't expected to be teased upon waking up again, but it was oddly comforting. He grunted in reply, eyes meeting Unohana's as she approached his futon.

"We were all worried about you," Unohana continued, kneeling beside him. "When you're ready, there are already several people who wish to come see you."

Hitsugaya looked away as Unohana folded the covers away from his chest. He wasn't sure he was prepared to allow any more people to be party to his weakness; there had been more than enough witnesses to the fact that he nearly been killed - again - by something he couldn't see. Ah, now he remembered why he was here.

Karura. That's what Hyourinmaru called that bird-creature. How many captains had been in that room with him when Yamamoto questioned him? How many of them had seen him in that losing battle? Hitsugaya stiffened when he felt Unohana's soft hands moving aside the bandages wrapping his torso.

"How is the pain?" Unohana asked, and Hitsugaya relaxed; she had misread the gesture, thankfully.

Hitsugaya didn't have to think on it for long to take stock; he still felt a dull, resounding ache in his lungs with every breath, his body heavy and sore. But truthfully, it wasn't as bad as he expected it to be. The Fourth Division truly had skilled healers.

"Still there, but dull," he replied hoarsely. Coughing to clear his throat, he winced as the pain in his chest flared briefly before it faded again. Whatever they were doing for the pain, it was working rather well.

Unohana nodded in response, hands now glowing over his chest. “It will continue to fade, but don’t get frustrated if it takes a little more time than you’d like. You were badly wounded, Hitsugaya-taichou, so let the pain be a reminder not to push yourself too hard.”

Hitsugaya frowned, but he nodded regardless. He didn’t dare look down to see the damage himself; from the feel of it, Karura had torn him open like a vulture would a carcass. He had thought the wounds were only in his mind at first, that reality had blended back with the dream in order to torment him further, but now it was obvious that the last nightmare he recalled before finding himself back in the safe haven of his subconscious had been real.

“How–” He shifted uncomfortably, and Unohana paused in her ministrations, waiting patiently for him to speak. “How bad…?”

Unohana sighed. “Perhaps it is best not to ask now.”

Hitsugaya resisted the urge to grab her hands and insist that she explain, but the serious look in her eyes make him think better of that idea. Instead, he looked away, and saw button eyes staring back at him. The handmade dragon – who the hell was trying to tell him how much of a child they thought he was–

“Matsumoto brought that in for you, Hitsugaya-taichou,” Unohana explained; she must have seen him scowling at it. “The dragon is a symbol of good health; she was hoping it would lift your spirits some.”

Oh. Hitsugaya felt almost sheepish for the earlier mental outburst, and silently apologized to the dragon. It simply stared back at him with its button eyes, as much a sign of forgiveness as he’d ever get.

Gods. I must be really out of it if I’m talking to a toy dragon.

Unohana’s hands stopped glowing, and she suddenly slipped her hands beneath Hitsugaya’s back and wound bandages back around his chest. He finally caught a glimpse of what Karura’s claws had done to him, and he swallowed back bile – red, ragged lines coursed his chest from hip to shoulder. They looked terrible, even though they were clearly on the mend. He wouldn’t be surprised if they left scars.

“Yamamoto will want to speak with you as soon as I deem you well enough to sit up on your own.” Unohana explained once she drew the covers back up to Hitsugaya’s shoulders. “For now, you need rest. I will have Koutetsu-san come by later to bring you something to eat that will be gentle on your stomach; you may sit up then, but please let her help you.” She turned, preparing to leave the room.

He still had questions. “Unohana-san…”

“Rest, Hitsugaya.” Before he could protest, she placed a gentle hand to his forehead, and the room swirled to black. Just before he faded entirely, however, he heard Unohana’s voice whisper, “You made it, young dragon. Thank you.”

<< part IX, 1 | nine 2 | part X >>

</div>

Resilience // part IX, section one

doomcake — Wed, 17 Oct 2007 09:25:18 GMT

Yes, it's been too long a while. Yes, I suck. Yes, this chapter is fraggin' long. D: So. Um. A few things:

1. This is horribly rushed. I didn't realize how fraggin' late it was. D:
2. Um... there might be a part XI. Or not. Part X is looking to be just as long as this one. D:
3. I R DUM FOR SRS. *BRICKED*

Onward!

Rating: Still PG-13. Still no real pairings. Still has Hitsu-whumpage (poor boy).
Warnings: Lots of f-bombs, mild violence, possibly squirmy medical situation, craptasticness 8D
Questions? Feel free to ask. I'm too tired to add other notes.

Prequel: Endurance (Part I)
Previous Chapters: Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII

Part IX

Hinamori Momo had decided that she needed a break from the back fifth division paperwork she'd been picking through. The seated officers in her division had done a fabulous job of keeping up with the current reports in both their captain's and vice captain's sudden absences, but even they could only handle so much at one time. She couldn't presume to expect as much out of them, not when it should have been hers to do in the first place. There were times when she understood where Matsumoto's tendency to sneak off when reports were due came from.

The transition to taking over for Aizen-taichou had been difficult – and it still was, in most ways. There were many days in which Hinamori nearly forgot that her captain wasn't there anymore, and wouldn't be. She would turn to ask him his opinion on a particular report, or to see if he would like any tea when she went to get herself some, and he wasn't there. Of course he wasn't there; someone – Gin – had messed up his mind in there somewhere. It didn't matter, though; Hitsugaya would bring him back and remind him of who he really was. Shirou-chan had promised as much.

Hinamori looked up just in time to see the sign for the Tenth's offices as she passed on her walk; she hadn't even realized she was heading in that direction. Part of her wanted to stop in and say hi to Hitsugaya, but then she remembered that he was still on mission in the Living World. Maybe she could beg Yamamoto-soutaichou to let her call him again soon.

Until then, she would simply loop by the First's offices and see how things were going there before she went back to work on paperwork. One could only delay the inevitable for so long. But before she could let her mind dwell further on the upcoming reports, a small commotion of voices down the hall attracted her attention. There was a small clump of shinigami – white coats, captains, Ukitake and Kyouraku and Kurotsuchi and Unohana and… Yamamoto-soutaichou? – moving quickly towards the Fourth Division's quarters. Unohana's face glowed the color of reiatsu, her forehead wrinkled in a worried, concentrated frown. They hadn't seemed to notice Hinamori following them.

She caught Hitsugaya's name, and her heart skipped a beat. Moving forward with a hand outstretched, she tried to see who it was they were so intently gathered around. Something bad had happened. But suddenly, Koutetsu-fukutaichou was blocking her view of the procession, and she couldn't see any more.

That wasn't Hitsugaya-taichou they were carrying, was it?

A choked, pained moan in Hitsugaya's familiar voice told her otherwise, and she froze. Something was wrong, horribly wrong. Hitsugaya was supposed to be in the Living World – what was he doing here? Why was he hurt? Had something happened to him on his mission?

She followed them to the Fourth Division's infirmary, trying to pick up as much of the conversation as she could, but the ringing in her ears kept the words from registering. All she knew was that Hitsugaya had been badly hurt, and that Gin had likely had something to do with it, somehow.

Gin. The name turned her vision red with anger at the man who had taken so much away from her. It was Gin's fault that Aizen had betrayed them, and if Gin had been responsible for harming Hitsugaya… She wouldn't forgive him.

“Hinamori-fukutaichou?”

Hinamori nearly jumped; she had been so lost in her own thoughts that she hadn't even heard Koutetsu Kiyone – one of the two shinigami who shared the third seat in Ukitake's division – come up behind her.

“Koutetsu-san! You startled me,” Hinamori said.

“I know you're worried about Hitsugaya-taichou, but Isane-nee-sama asked me to escort you back to your division,” Kiyone said in a sheepishly gentle tone. “She said they will contact you as soon as there is news, if you'd like, but they can't have unauthorized personnel in this area right now. I'm sorry.”

Worry chased the anger away; Hitsugaya must be in really bad shape if they were trying to keep the area clear. “What happened?”

“I don't know for sure myself, but I heard something went wrong during a questioning session,” Kiyone said. “It's probably too early to say, but I think Hitsugaya-taichou was somehow hurt during the process.”

“Will he be all right?”

“I don't know. I'm sorry.”

Hinamori nodded; Kiyone's guess probably was as good as her own. She let the third seat lead her away, silently praying that Hitsugaya would pull through whatever had happened to him.

“Ran-chan! You have a call!”

Renji was out of breath by the time he caught up to Matsumoto at the edge of the park. She had taken up Hitsugaya's affinity for late afternoon walks in his absence; she was out on one such walk when she sensed Renji approaching her. She whirled, eyes wide when they met with Renji's.

“News?” she asked seriously, heart pounding with anxiety. Was it from Hitsugaya?

“None that they would give me; Yamamoto-soutaichou wanted to speak with you specifically,” Renji replied, an apologetic look on his face.

She frowned. If Yamamoto wanted to speak with her, then… No. She couldn't let her mind think that way. They wouldn't execute Hitsugaya over his memories, would they? They couldn't afford to, not with how thinly spread their captains were as it was. Without another word, she nodded to Renji, and they both sped back to Orihime's apartment, back to where the Soul Society calling console sat in the spare room there. Orihime shot them a puzzled look as they both barged into her apartment and rushed back to the spare room.

Matsumoto didn't realize she was out of breath until she stood before the console gasping for air. Yamamoto's figure stood calmly still in the incoming screen, silhouetted in his dark office only by the light of his own console. His face was blank, but it always was.

“Matsumoto-fukutaichou,” he said solemnly. “Your presence is requested back here in Soul Society. Please report to my office after you have made arrangements to oversee Inoue-san's continued protection.”

No news? Matsumoto nearly frowned again at the vague nature of Yama-jii's message, but she knew better than to question. They'd tell her what was going on when she got there, she hoped. “Understood, Yamamoto-soutaichou,” she replied with a nod.

“That is all.”

And the screen flickered off. Matsumoto looked wearily over her shoulder at Renji, who still stood in the doorway.

“You'd better get going, Ran-chan,” he said.

Matsumoto nodded. “Please take over for me, and let the others know,” she said.

Renji balked. “Me? But--"

“And make sure Urahara keeps his promise. I'll send word as soon as I'm able.”

"Wouldn't-- I mean--... But--" Once Renji finished sputtering, he took a deep breath and bowed. “Take care, Ran-chan.”

Matsumoto nodded, turned, and initiated the gate back to Soul Society. Renji waved behind the closing doors, and Matsumoto didn't look back. Then again, she was startled to find Ukitake waiting for her on the other side of the door, and she didn't even think to look behind her again. At first, she thought that perhaps it was a coincidence, but when she took a closer look at the Thirteenth's captain, she saw that he was slightly hunched over, and dark circles ringed his bloodshot eyes. There was no sparkle in his usually cheery expression.

The realization sank in Matsumoto's gut, bitterly heavy. Something had not only gone wrong, it had gone horribly wrong. A disaster.

“Come with me,” was all the answer Ukitake could provide her. He turned and walked somberly in the direction of the First Division offices. Numbly, Matsumoto followed.

Yamamoto's office looked like a war zone, and Matsumoto suddenly understood why Yamamoto had likely kept the lights off on purpose while speaking with her over the communicator. Glass and papers were strewn everywhere, chairs broken and at least one table had been splintered. There were patches of blood on the floor, not quite dried, and the most pooled around the base of a chair that had once had armrests on it. The only explanation she could think of was that there had been a fight there. Had Hitsugaya fought back during the memory wipe? Had he been provoked so far as to strike back against Yamamoto? Or had someone attacked them in the meantime? It was extremely difficult to tell from just a glance what had caused the scuffle, but something had happened.

“Matsumoto-fukutaichou,” Yamamoto greeted.

“Yamamoto-soutaichou,” Matsumoto replied, bowing. “You sent for me.”

“I did,” Yamamoto said. “Thank you for your prompt arrival.” Matusmoto inclined her head in a half-nod, and waited for the old man to continue. “As you can see, there has been some trouble here, and I am afraid it involves Hitsugaya-taichou.”

Matsumoto couldn't hide the scowl that was slowly finding its way to her face. “And how might that be?” she asked tersely. She half expected Yamamoto to come out and accuse her of treason as well, just by association.

His answer surprised her. “He was the unfortunate casualty of a brutal trap set by Aizen Sousuke and his associates.”

Was. The word felt like a slowly-twisting knife in her stomach. Hitsugaya wasn't... “Is Hitsugaya-taichou–?”

“He still lives,” Yamamoto said, quelling one of her fears. “But he is in poor condition. Unohana-taichou is looking after him as we speak.”

If Unohana-taichou was personally handling his case, then it had to be bad. “Might I see him?”

“Not until Unohana-taichou declares him stable.”

Matsumoto felt her eyes burn with tears, and she spent a full moment trying to bite back on them. She had to be strong. When she was certain her voice wasn't going to crack on her, she asked, “What happened?”

“Well, we can't do much until we have word from Unohana. Let us go somewhere where we can sit, and I will explain the situation in full detail,” Yamamoto said, motioning for both Matsumoto and Ukitake to follow.

Feeling ill, Matsumoto hesitated, but Ukitake gently placed a hand on her shoulder. She looked up as he passed, and then she finally followed.

“Unohana-taichou, there's still a rupture in his lungs; he's stopped breathing again!”

“S-Stage three treatment is in progress, Unohana-taichou.”

“Isane, please switch with me; I will work on the respiratory system.”

“Yes, taichou.”

“Yuuji, stay on task until we reach stage five of the treatment, and then switch with Hanatarou-san until we stabilize him. Stay focused now; we can't afford to lose our concentration here!”

“Yes, taichou!”

Unohana took a deep breath as she focused her reiatsu into Hitsugaya's small chest, encouraging the torn tissues of his lungs to mend. The breathing mask could only help him so far as his lungs were working. Sweat beaded on her upper lip as she worked, and she didn't realize she was gritting her teeth until her jaw relaxed when Hitsugaya raggedly gasped a lungful of air. After his second breath, she took a deep breath. They should be ready to move into the next stage of healing soon.

“He's breathing again,” she informed her small, five-man tag team unit. “Preparing for stage four of his treatment.”

“Give me a moment,” Isane said, gritting her teeth.

“Koutetsu-fukutaichou, don't push too hard–!”

“Give me a moment!” she repeated, voice raising. “Working around some resistance; give me a hand, Hanatarou!”

Hanatarou knelt beside Isane and placed his hands alongside the vice-captain's as they pressed against Hitsugaya's abdomen. Unohana was grateful for the smaller healer's presence; after his foray with Kurosaki and the other ryoka, Hanatarou's talent seemed to blossom with the encouragement, and his gentle touch was proving to be extremely helpful. After a moment, Isane nodded gratefully to Hanatarou.

“Ready for the fourth stage of treatment,” she said, exhaling.

“Hanatarou, switch with Isane until the next stage of treatment,” Unohana ordered. “Isane, you will relieve Yuuji when the time comes.”

“I'm sorry, Unohana-taichou,” Isane said, bowing her head as she moved from her position.

Isane was stressing herself too far and could use the short breather. Not that Unohana blamed Isane; Hitsugaya's case was proving to be rather distressing. Karura nearly had carried out his threat to take Hitsugaya down with him – in fact, the threat still hung heavy in the air. Hitsugaya was in dire shape; he had suffered a great deal of internal damage, as if Karura had actually dragged his claws through Hitsugaya's insides. The outward signs of the injury were gruesome as it was, but it was a situation where it really was worse than it looked. Three jagged, parallel claw marks cut diagonally across Hitsugaya's torso from his hip to his shoulder; the blood loss only added complications to the more serious injuries on the inside. It was a miracle that the young captain was even alive at this point, and Unohana intended for him to stay that way. As slow as it was, they were making progress.

“H-He's waking up!”

The strangled scream brought her attention back to her work, and Hitsugaya's back arched painfully as his muscles tensed. The cold compress that lay over the young man's eyes fell to the side, revealing wide, panicked eyes that saw nothing but pain. She hadn't been expecting him to rouse after the first spell, but apparently it hadn't been strong enough, she realized with a small measure of guilt. The earlier stages of treatment were always the most painful for the more serious cases. Unohana reached with one hand and spread her fingers across Hitsugaya's forehead, and with a quick burst of reiatsu, she watched as his body relaxed again, eyes rolling to the back of his head once more before the eyelids closed.

“Sleep, Hitsugaya-taichou,” she murmured, placing the cloth back over his eyes.

“Stage four of treatment is in progress.”

Unohana nodded in acknowledgement, focusing her attention back on the patient. She hoped he wouldn't remember this procedure as anything more than a distant nightmare.

The wind blew bitterly cold outside the cave, seeping through the small opening and chilling the shivering, huddled inhabitant to the bone. Not even the familiar warmth of the dragon behind him helped, and moment by silent moment, he felt himself weakening, as if someone had turned the tap on his strength to full blast. Blinking frost-laden lashes, Hitsugaya sluggishly cast his gaze on the dragon behind him, the dragon's breath shuddering harshly in his ears.

He opened his mouth to try to offer empty encouragement to the dragon – and himself – but sharp pain shot through his chest, and he lost the breath to speak. They'd both been badly wounded this time.

Hitsugaya cast a baleful look at the hallway that had encased his memories; its entranceway was now ensconced in thick ice. He didn't need to see beyond the blockade to know what was there – all that was left were the shattered remnants of what had once been a source of identity. Now? Now he didn't even know what was his, and what had been planted there by Gin.

Hell, he didn't even know if Gin was real at this point, nor did he have the energy to care.

"There won't… there won't be any waking up this time, will there?" Hitsugaya asked wryly, once he had the air to say so.

"Toushirou," the dragon's voice rumbled. "It doesn't have to be that way."

"I don't have the strength left to fix it, dragon," Hitsugaya sighed. "There's nothing left there, anyway. Karura made damn sure of that."

Hyourinmaru growled in admonishment. "I know how it should be."

"Then you fix it," Hitsugaya said bitterly. "I'm not going back there."

"Toushirou, that isn't like you, and you know it."

Hitsugaya turned his head sharply to face the dragon, and instantly regretted it as pain shot through his spine. "Damn it, I don't even know what I'm like anymore – how do you expect me to piece together a puzzle when half the pieces are fake?"

"Rely on me, then, to tell you which pieces to use."

Hitsugaya sighed; Hyourinmaru wasn't one to lie, was he? "There's no point, anyway. Gaining my memory won't keep me alive."

"But your resolve will, Toushirou."

Hitsugaya didn't have much to say to that, except… who would care if he lived? He was a criminal now anyway, at any rate. Even if it wasn't his fault, he had broken the code – he remembered. Or, at least, he thought he did.

Maybe he didn't.

Gods, not this train of thought again.

"That wasn't you, Toushirou."

Gritting his teeth, Hitsugaya had to clamp down on the urge to argue with Hyourinmaru, but he knew that it was stupid to even try. The dragon was right; Karura – the son of a bitch – had been in control for far too long. Hitsugaya sure as hell wasn't going to let Karura have the last laugh in his own body.

What was it with the villains trying to hijack his mind these days, anyway?

"They see potential."

"And that means–?"

Hyourinmaru stayed silent. For all Hitsugaya cared, the dragon could have shrugged, or could have said "I know something you don't, and you'll just have to find out the long way," for all the good the silence did.

"Let me guess – if I have the strength to argue, then I have the strength to get out of here, right?" Hitsugaya said dryly.

Hyourinmaru's long whiskers pulled back to reveal long, pointed white teeth; it was as much of a smile as Hitsugaya could hope for from the dragon. The damn thing wasn't only smart, but had a sense of humor, too. Hitsugaya supposed he could have been stuck with a worse partner.

Standing slowly – it hurt like hell to move – Hitsugaya panted until the pain faded to a manageable level before he began staggering towards the ice that surrounded the hallway. Without a word, Hyourinmaru followed.

Renji wasn't sure how they'd known they were short several members of their team, but somehow, they must have. They must have. The timing was far too perfect. He'd been meditating when he saw the dark rip cut a gaping black hole in the sky, and even before he saw who was behind it, he was already standing with his gigai at his feet, one word coming to mind.

"Fuck."

He wasted no time rushing his way back to Inoue's place, startling her as he barged in the door. To be honest, he was extremely relieved that he hadn't had to hunt for her; lately, she'd been taking up training with Rukia in order to try to protect herself. But if Rukia couldn't handle an Espada, then it was a safe bet that neither could Inoue. Though it hadn't yet been confirmed that the intruders were Espada rather than average Arrancar, it was better to be safe than sorry, in this case. They might not be trying to kill her yet, but they certainly were interested in her. Renji hadn't heard any good explanation as to why that might be the case – Inoue was a human girl with some unusual but extremely efficient healing abilities, but Renji doubted that Aizen wanted her for that skill. Perhaps there was something about Inoue that the rest of them had missed that made her especially valuable.

"We have a problem, Inoue-san, and I'm going to have to ask you to come with me to Urahara's," Renji said seriously, feeling a little guilty for startling the poor girl.

Inoue didn't seem to mind. She nodded, eyes equally serious, and grasped Renji's outstretched hand. He hoped that the others would know where to meet up – in Matsumoto's and Hitsugaya's absences, Renji had formulated what he hoped would be a plan of action should such a situation arise. Inoue would be placed under Urahara's protection, and then they would all meet at the place where the rip appeared.

Urahara was waiting for them when they arrived at his shop, a terse grin on his face. "Inoue-san," he greeted, and offered a nod to Renji as well.

"I leave her to you again, Urahara-san," Renji said, and then he left.

His next line of business would be to inform Soul Society that they were engaging the Arrancar, and to have them send back-up. Summoning a hell butterfly as he ran, he whispered the message to it and sent it on its way back to headquarters. Chances were that they'd already noticed the invasion, but Renji hoped that such news would entice them to send a second unit to help fend them off this time, especially since they were rather sure their target was Inoue. Urahara had inferred as much after the most recent Arrancar attacks that he'd known something about it, and knew that they had been after Inoue. If the enemy wanted her so badly, then they weren't going to let them have her, even if she was merely a human girl and not an actual shinigami.

It did make Renji wonder why it was that they wanted her so badly. One of these days, he would have to corner Urahara – somehow – and make him explain. Until then, he had Arrancar to kill.

Ichigo's reiatsu exploded in Renji's senses, and after the initial shockwave had died down, he was able to pinpoint the location of the fight. He was relieved to know that Ichigo was in action; the boy was indeed a powerful ally to have in a situation like this, despite his inexperience. Renji knew that Rukia would be with him, and Renji hoped that their combined reiatsu would attract enough attention that they would distract the Arrancar away from their actual goal. Highly doubtful – it didn't exactly work that way the last time, since the Arrancar seemed to be pretty damn smart – but thankfully Urahara had foreseen as much and had managed to protect Inoue, as he would this time. Urahara was also a powerful ally to be grateful for, in Renji's book.

When Renji finally picked out how many Arrancar had arrived this time, he put on speed; Ichigo and Rukia wouldn't be able to handle them all alone. Renji fervently hoped that Yumichika and Ikkaku realized what had happened and would be on their way to help as well.

They were going to need all the help they could get, if these Arrancar were anything like what they had encountered before.

Matsumoto still felt vaguely sick when Unohana quietly led her to Hitsugaya's room in the infirmary. Even though she now knew Yamamoto was trying to save Hitsugaya rather than kill him, she still felt at least a little angry at the old man. Why had he questioned Hitsugaya so harshly anyway, even though he knew exactly what was going on? Why hadn't he protected his subordinates better? Why had he allowed this kind of treachery to happen? There were so many things she wanted to ask him – accuse him of – that it made her head hurt with confusion. She hoped fervently that Hitsugaya would at least be told the truth if-- when he awoke. All such thoughts fled, however, once Unohana sat her down by Hitsugaya. The young captain was horribly pale, and the fact that the covers were pulled to his chin even in such warm weather had her wondering what they were hiding beneath.

"I've put him in a deep sleep," Unohana explained quietly. "It'll help ease the pain until he's healed enough to bear it."

Matsumoto grasped the closest of Hitsugaya's hands between both of her own; shivering at how cold it was to the touch. Pressing it to her forehead, she tried hard not to cry as she recalled the last time Hitsugaya had spent a great deal of time in Unohana's care. Only this time, she hadn't been there to support him.

"Will… will he be okay?" she finally asked.

Unohana placed a gentle hand on Matsumoto's shoulder. "That will be up to him. It'll be easier to tell when he is awake," the healer replied honestly. "Until then, you're welcome to stay with him. Try talking to him; he may be asleep, but I think it helps to know that there are those here who care."

Matsumoto nodded, not looking up. She heard the rustle of cloth as Unohana quietly excused herself and left Matsumoto alone with her captain. For several moments, all Matsumoto could manage was to silently sit by Hitsugaya's side, clinging on to his cold hand. After all he'd been through – all of them, really – she couldn't bear the thought of losing him to a plot that was even older than he was.

Why had she not seen Gin's betrayal sooner? She should have noticed something, especially back when they were so close. She remembered when Gin became Aizen's lieutenant, but she hadn't seen a change then. Perhaps he had been fooling her all along as well, dragging her into his brutal mind games. It made her regret not taking Gin's life when she had it in her hands, the day he betrayed them all. If she had, then Hitsugaya wouldn't be laying here half-dead, and she wouldn't feel that gaping, empty hole left in her chest. Even though Hitsugaya was her captain, she was still older than he was, and she felt at least partially responsible for not looking out better for him.

It made her want to scream.

"Taichou, I'm so sorry," she whispered instead. "I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you. Please… please hang in there; I don't know what we–… I would do if I lost you, too."

She squeezed his hand, and the moved one hand to brush his bangs from his face as he slept. Remembering Unohana's words, she continued to whisper encouragements to Hitsugaya to hold on, and when she ran out of words to say, she sighed, and instead began filling him in on what he'd missed in the Living World.

Part VIII | nine 1 | part IX 2 >>

</div>

/ Fanart?! For Meeeee? :DDD

doomcake — Sun, 09 Sep 2007 03:27:12 GMT

Well, yes, I know it's only one piece, and that like, only really awesome authors get bazillions of fanartses. But I am so friggen' excited that someone thought enough of Resilience to fanart the last bitty bit of part VIII (the cliffhanger) that I had to share. x333

"Resilience" by Namimakura (on FFnet, a.k.a. wastedsouls on deviantART). :333

If you ever read this, Namimakura, you're still my hero!! :D :D :D

And yes, I got this a few days ago, but then I forgot to post it here. 8D

/ Resilience part IX [ preview ]

doomcake — Sun, 09 Sep 2007 03:12:22 GMT

And here is about half of what I have written so far for the next part of Resilience, in case anyone is interested? 8D?? I'm going to try keeping these previews and chapter-postings to the actual community from now on, so if you haven't joined up already, you're more than welcome to if you'd like to keep up on the updates! x3 (I probably will continue to put update notifications up on my writing journal anyway, though. At least for now.)

Part IX (preview)

Hinamori Momo had decided that she needed a break from the back fifth division paperwork she'd been picking through. The seated officers in her division had done a fabulous job of keeping up with the current reports in both their captain's and vice captain's sudden absences, but even they could only handle so much at one time. She couldn’t presume to expect as much out of them, not when it should have been hers to do in the first place. There were times when she understood where Matsumoto’s tendency to sneak off when reports were due came from.

The transition to taking over for Aizen-taichou had been difficult – and it still was, in most ways. There were many days in which Hinamori nearly forgot that her captain wasn't there anymore, and wouldn't be. She would turn to ask him his opinion on a particular report, or to see if he would like any tea when she went to get herself some, and he wasn’t there. Of course he wasn’t there; someone – Gin – had messed up his mind in there somewhere. It didn’t matter, though; Hitsugaya would bring him back and remind him of who he really was. Shirou-chan had promised as much.

Hinamori looked up just in time to see the sign for the Tenth’s offices as she passed on her walk; she hadn’t even realized she was heading in that direction. Part of her wanted to stop in and say hi to Hitsugaya, but then she remembered that he was still on mission in the Living World. Maybe she could beg Yamamoto-soutaichou to let her call him again soon.

Until then, she would simply loop by the First’s offices and see how things were going there before she went back to work on paperwork. One could only delay the inevitable for so long. But before she could let her mind dwell further on the paperwork, a small commotion of voices down the hall attracted her attention. There was a small clump of shinigami – white coats, captains, Ukitake and Kyouraku and Kurotsuchi and Unohana and… Yamamoto-soutaichou? – moving quickly towards the Fourth Division’s quarters. Unohana’s face glowed the color of reiatsu, her forehead wrinkled in a worried, concentrated frown. They hadn’t seemed to notice Hinamori following them.

She caught Hitsugaya’s name, and her heart skipped a beat. Moving forward with a hand outstretched, she tried to see who it was they were so intently gathered around. Something bad had happened. But suddenly, Koutetsu-fukutaichou was blocking her view of the procession, and she couldn’t see any more.

That wasn’t Hitsugaya-taichou they were carrying, was it?

A choked, pained moan in Hitsugaya’s familiar voice told her otherwise, and she froze. Something was wrong, horribly wrong. Hitsugaya was supposed to be in the Living World – what was he doing here? Why was he hurt? Had something happened to him on his mission?

She followed them to the Fourth Division’s infirmary, trying to pick up as much of the conversation as she could, but the ringing in her ears kept the words from registering. All she knew was that Hitsugaya had been badly hurt, and that Gin had likely had something to do with it, somehow.

Gin. The name turned her vision red with anger at the man who had taken so much away from her. It was Gin’s fault that Aizen had betrayed them, and if Gin had been responsible for harming Hitsugaya… She wouldn’t forgive him.

“Hinamori-fukutaichou?”

Hinamori nearly jumped; she had been so lost in her own thoughts that she hadn’t even heard Koutetsu Kiyone – one of the two shinigami who shared the third seat in Ukitake’s division – come up behind her.

“Koutetsu-san! You startled me,” Hinamori said.

“I know you’re worried about Hitsugaya-taichou, but Isane-nee-sama asked me to escort you back to your division,” Kiyone said in a sheepishly gentle tone. “She said they will contact you as soon as there is news, if you’d like, but they can’t have unauthorized personnel in this area right now. I’m sorry.”

Worry chased the anger away; Hitsugaya must be in really bad shape if they were trying to keep the area clear. “What happened?”

“I don’t know for sure myself, but I heard something went wrong during a questioning session,” Kiyone said. “It’s probably too early to say, but I think Hitsugaya-taichou was somehow hurt during the process.”

“Will he be all right?”

“I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

Hinamori nodded; Kiyone’s guess probably was as good as her own. She let the third seat lead her away, silently praying that Hitsugaya would pull through whatever had happened to him, and that Gin would suffer a thousand painful deaths for what he had done.

“Ran-chan! You have a call!”

Renji was out of breath by the time he caught up to Matsumoto at the edge of the park. She had taken up Hitsugaya’s affinity for late afternoon walks in his absence; she was out on one such walk when she sensed Renji approaching her. She whirled, eyes wide when they met with Renji’s.

“News?” she asked seriously, heart pounding with anxiety. Was it from Hitsugaya?

“None that they would give me; Yamamoto-soutaichou wanted to speak with you specifically,” Renji replied, an apologetic look on his face.

She frowned. If Yamamoto wanted to speak with her, then… No. She couldn’t let her mind think that way. They wouldn’t execute Hitsugaya over his memories, would they? They couldn’t afford to, not with how thinly spread their captains were as it was. Without another word, she nodded to Renji, and they both sped back to Orihime’s apartment, back to where the Soul Society calling console sat in the spare room there. Orihime shot them a puzzled look as they both barged into her apartment and rushed back to the spare room.

Matsumoto didn’t realize she was out of breath until she stood before the console gasping for air. Yamamoto’s figure stood calmly still in the incoming screen, silhouetted in his dark office only by the light of his own console. His face was blank, but it always was.

No news? Matsumoto nearly frowned again at the vague nature of Yama-jii’s message, but she knew better than to question. They’d tell her what was going on when she got there, she hoped. “Understood, Yamamoto-soutaichou,” she replied with a nod.

“That is all.”

And the screen flickered off. Matsumoto looked wearily over her shoulder at Renji, who still stood in the doorway.

“You’d better get going, Ran-chan,” he said.

Matsumoto nodded. “Please take over for me, and let the others know,” she said.

Renji balked. “Me?”

“And make sure Urahara keeps his promise. I’ll send word as soon as I’m able.”

Once Renji finished sputtering, he took a deep breath and bowed. “Take care, Ran-chan.”

Matsumoto nodded, turned, and initiated the gate back to Soul Society. Renji waved behind the closing doors, and Matsumoto didn’t look back. Then again, she was startled to find Ukitake waiting for her on the other side of the door, and she didn’t even think to look behind her again. At first, she thought that perhaps it was a coincidence, but when she took a closer look at the Thirteenth’s captain, she saw that he was slightly hunched over, and dark circles ringed his bloodshot eyes. There was no sparkle in his usually cheery expression.

The realization sank in Matsumoto’s gut, bitterly heavy. Something had not only gone wrong, it had gone horribly wrong. A disaster.

“Come with me,” was all the answer Ukitake could provide her. He turned and walked somberly in the direction of the First Division offices. Numbly, Matsumoto followed.

Yamamoto’s office looked like a war zone, and Matsumoto suddenly understood why Yamamoto had likely kept the lights off on purpose while speaking with her over the communicator. Glass and papers were strewn everywhere, chairs broken and at least one table had been splintered. There were patches of blood on the floor, not quite dried, and the most pooled around the base of a chair that had once had armrests on it. The only explanation she could think of was that there had been a fight there. Had Hitsugaya fought back during the memory wipe? Had he been provoked so far as to strike back against Yamamoto? Or had someone attacked them in the meantime? It was extremely difficult to tell from just a glance what had caused the scuffle, but something had happened.

“Matsumoto-fukutaichou,” Yamamoto greeted.

“Yamamoto-soutaichou,” Matsumoto replied, bowing. “You sent for me.”

Matsumoto couldn’t hide the scowl that was slowly finding its way to her face. “And how might that be?” she asked tersely. She half expected Yamamoto to come out and accuse her of treason as well, just by association.

His answer surprised her. “He was the unfortunate casualty of a brutal trap set by Aizen Sousuke and his associates.”

Was. The word felt like a slowly-twisting knife in her stomach. “Is Hitsugaya-taichou–?”

“He still lives,” Yamamoto said, quelling one of her fears. “But he is in poor condition. Unohana-taichou is looking after him as we speak.”

If Unohana-taichou was personally handling his case, then it had to be bad. “Might I see him?”

“Not until Unohana-taichou declares him stable.”

Matsumoto felt her eyes burn with tears, and she spent a full moment trying to bite back on them. She had to be strong. When she was certain her voice wasn’t going to crack on her, she asked, “What happened?”

“Well, we can’t do much until we have word from Unohana. Let us go somewhere where we can sit, and I will explain the situation in full detail,” Yamamoto said, motioning for both Matsumoto and Ukitake to follow.

Feeling ill, Matsumoto hesitated, but Ukitake gently placed a hand on her shoulder. She looked up as he passed, and then she finally followed.

----

(The rest to come soon, I hope!)

</div>

// Endurance [ IA 1 ]

doomcake — Mon, 30 Jul 2007 07:44:59 GMT

Since this story is completely uploaded to my writing journal - and I'm waaaay too lazy to move it all over here - I'm going to put all the information and links to my writing journal here.

Summary: In which Hitsugaya Toushirou learns that the mind is indeed a powerful weapon.
Characters: Hitsugaya, Hyourinmaru, Matsumoto, Renji, and some Urahara, Unohana, Orihime, Ikkaku, Ichigo, Yumichika, Rukia, etc.
Pairings: As this is more of a gen fic than anything, there aren't any real pairings. But! There are some implied little hints at some kind of relationship - HitsuHina, HitsuMatsu, RenRan are only a few of these.
Genre: Action / Psychological / Hurt-comfort-whumpage / Drama, barely hedging on divergent, mostly Gen.
Status: Complete - 5 parts.
Disclaimer: Kubo Tite created and owns all things Bleach.

Author's Babbles:
This was originally intended to be a one-shot gift fic for taegan_kel, who requested a Hitsu-whumping fic when I offered to write her something. Well, obviously, it didn't really happen that way. But! This is still Kel's gift-fic, and it's spawned a monster of a plot for a broader arc of stories. So totally wrote this in one month without editing it, while I was studying abroad in Japan. During that time frame, I also got to see Paku Romi perform Hitsugaya's lines (and several other Bleach seiyuu cast members) live on a stage in Osaka, and it only fueled my obsession, I think. xD

But anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this story if you happen to stop by here!

Links:
livejournal :: [ part I ] // [ part II ] // [ part III ] // [ part IV ] // [ part V ]
[ fanfiction(dot)net ] || [ mediaminer ]

Introductory Post

doomcake — Mon, 30 Jul 2007 07:25:10 GMT

I'm impressed if you've made it this far! Haha.

As stated in the profile, this community is for any future installments of what is now being called the "Nice Arc," which currently includes Endurance and Resilience, and will be followed by several more fanfictions along the same premise. (Hey, I'm building up a huge storyline; it's not letting me cram it all into one story!)

Anyone is free to watch or even join the community, but all posts are moderated. Comments are always awesome as well! Most of the posts here will be actual story updates, though I might toss up snippets, historical/cultural psychobabble, reader responses, and NA-related ramblings up here in addition to the stories themselves. I have had some mentions of fanart from FFnet reviewers, so if those ever materialize, those will likely end up here as well. :3 (HEE, FANART! *diesofhappy*)

At any rate, welcome! Feel free to poke around and see what's here - not much yet, I know - and I hope you enjoy your stay~!

~Rinja (aka Baka/BakaBokken/that idiot)