Bleach: Daiguren p2
The temperature only continued to drop as Ichigo kept to his circular march. By now his feet didn't hurt anymore. They were numb, but it wasn't a comforting numbness that allowed him to continue walking. It was its own distinct kind of pain, one that made every step a trial on his senses, but his feet weren't even the worst of it.
The cold in the air was treading a fine line. The exercise of walking kept him warm enough to keep the cold at bay for the most part, he wasn't shivering, but his skin had seen better days. Shihakusho generally weren't great for cold weather, and it was really starting to show. On his hands, around his lips, along the back of his neck, he could feel painful blisters forming. The ones on his fingers were especially annoying as they made the simple act of picking up the seeds a literal pain.
Between the grinding pain of his feet, which oddly enough he felt more in his knees now than the feet themselves, and stabbing pain of the blisters the task Hyorinmaru had set before him was turning out to be anything but simple.
It felt like he'd been at it for a day at least, there was a noticeable difference on the number of seeds in the barrel, but the only change in the light of this inner world was minimal. The wind around him had grown in speed, but the clouds above moved slower and slower, growing too large for even the increased speed of the air to move them along. Like Hyorinmaru's gaze, the shadows of the clouds grew to be a heaviness on his shoulder, their darkness passing over the white fields which were more and more starting to take on a gray palor.
He leaned on the barrel with his arms, breathing heavily even though this wasn't anywhere near as physically taxing as a full out battle against many of the enemies he'd faced before.
No, that wasn't quite right. Those battles had been of a whole other area of physical strength, the kind that came and went in bursts and starts. The kind that had earned him his infamy in all the worlds. This constant pressure and taxation on his strength was a whole other kind of exercise. One he was nowhere near as well practiced at.
Slowly he lifted one foot off the ground, letting it rest in the air and away from the vicious ice and snow below, before placing it back down and lifting the other. It didn't help, if anything the small break made putting them back down on the frozen ground that much more painful.
“Heh. Boy, how long can you keep this up?” Hyorinmaru growled, the first it had spoken in a very long time. Ichigo tensed himself against the noise, every time the dragon spoke his situation seemed to get worse.
“Until the end.” Ichigo snarled at the beast, not bothering at all to keep his hate, and right now it was indeed a kind of hatred, for the dragon out of his voice or gaze. Hyorinmaru opened its mouth, lips pulling back and up in a brutal mockery of a human grin.
“Let's see it then.” As if on the dragons command, which it probably was, the wind picked up with a snap and the temperature took another obvious nose dive. With a growl, Ichigo reached into the barrel and grabbed a seed, ignoring the pain from the blisters on his hands, and began to walk again. Back and fourth, however many times it would take, he wasn't going to give that overgrown snake the satisfaction of seeing him fail.
He never fail, couldn't when the future of one of his precious people, the most precious, was resting on him.
He pushed onwards as the clouds above began to roil, coalescing together and slowly closing off any gaps and glimpses of the blue sky above. It created a strange lens effect across the icy landscape, with shafts of light cutting down through the clouds as if the places that they touched were blessed in some way. It would have been beautiful, in a strangely distant and removed kind of way, if Ichigo hadn't been in pain and so preoccupied in taking the next round. No such light was coming down to bless him of course, above the area where he walked the clouds had come together to lock the sky away completely.
The blisters he had been growing burst at some point in his constant marching, a sour metallic taste, far worse than blood, settling in his mouth from the puss leaking out of those on his lips and inside, yes inside, his nose. That was a new experience. He was used to blisters on his palms and fists, from fighting and wielding Zangetsu, but now he had leaking blisters in places he'd never even imagined such things could grow.
It was vile but he didn't so much as blink at this change. He knew the dragon was looking for it, any small flinch, falter, or change in his expression. He despised Hyorinmaru for it, and refused to give in to its sick pleasures.
But it was growing harder and harder not to show the effects of the cold. He could ignore the pain in his legs, it was a simple matter of acknowledging it and letting it pass on, and entirely block out most of the sensations from his blisters. But as the temperature continued to fall there was nothing he could do to stop his body from shivering.
He tried of course, tightened all his muscles till it became difficult to walk, not that it wasn't already with lead for feet, but nothing could stop the occasional shudder. Worse yet the dragon seemed to enjoy his futile struggles more than the shivering itself, giving a snort when Ichigo's control slipped.
Finally Ichigo gave up on that, no point in being stubborn if it was making the show better for the damned snake. Instead he focused ahead and on stopping the shivering in his pained hands long enough to grasp the seeds. He didn't look down anymore to watch his steps, he didn't want to see what his feet looked like. He'd tried putting the socks back on so that he wouldn't see, but by now they had truly become solid.
Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth...
back and forth.
And back, leaning heavily on the barrel that just wasn't emptying fast enough. How long had he been at this again? He'd started with a clear grasp on time. He hadn't known how much exactly passed but he'd been aware of the passing. He'd lost that ability at some point and now tried to remember exactly when that was as he took a light break.
Except that was impossible, right? How could you find time if you'd lost your sense of it. He gazed about the frozen plains. All the gaps in the clouds had closed. What had once been a world of white was now a dismal metallic color made of steel and mercury instead of ice and snow. Looking back down into the barrel he guessed it to be still half full at the least.
The clouds and the barrel didn't help in establishing time though, not when he hadn't really been paying attention to them up until now. With a heavy groan he slid down to sit by the barrel, leaning heavily against it and pulling his frozen feet up to hold against himself and try to rub some life back into them.
Toshiro had passed this task, and it had looked so piss easy at the beginning. With a snap the statement finally settled in his mind. Toshiro had gone through this, who knew how long ago, alone and freezing just as he was freezing now. Sure the captain had a tolerance for the cold but even that had its limits.
And Hyorinmaru, the originator of it all had probably watched and enjoyed back then just as he was doing now. Worse yet, after all that, the dragon was threatening to completely abandon Toshiro all together.
He turned to the dragon with an angry snarl. “What are you?” he hissed, feeling the rage boil up, for a short moment pushing all the pain and cold aside. “Aren't Zanpakuto supposed to save souls. Purify them, send them to soul society, protect their wielder and those precious to him!?”
The dragons face was statuesque. A solid expression as the crimson eyes bore down on him with malice and a depth far beyond his reach. “Yes.” The beast finally hissed out, a long sigh as it slowly used its wings to push its upper body off the ground.
“Yes, to protect. But I have nothing to protect. Human souls don't interest me, soul society betrayed me, and my wielders are gone and broken.” with each word the dragon pushed itself up, finally throwing its head back in a sharp keen. “THERE IS NOTHING FOR ME TO PROTECT!”
“But Toshiro-” Ichigo's call was cut off as the head snapped forward, the teeth of the dragon's maw suddenly snapping together mere inches away from him. He would have fallen back at the movement if he hadn't been on the ground already.
“NOTHING! Pathetic child that could not protect the other half of our soul.” Hyorinmaru roared in his face, lips pulled back completely, showing the blue gums that the dragons teeth, each one at least as long as its blade in zanpakuto form, were embedded in.
As quickly as the temper had come it faded away, the lips fell back down and hid the deadly teeth and the head retreated as Hyorinmaru practically deflated and spread itself along the ground.
Ichigo stared at the beast, realizing that in his own anger he'd hit right at a sore spot and not quite sure what to do with this now. “You're talking about.. Kusaka?” He remembered, crossing blades with the renegade shinigami, the resonance between Zangetsu and Hyorinmaru that had revealed that dark and hidden piece of Toshiro's past to him.
“Worse than trash that one. Lower than pathetic. One who would turn on his other half and turn me against myself. One who wouldn't even have the decency to fade away when his time came. Abhorrent slime that dared to abuse my power and wield me like a mere tool.” Hyorinmaru's stoic face again took on the cruel mockery of a human grin. “I'm glad you killed him, wiped him from this existence.”
Ichigo leaned back against the barrel, suddenly exhausted. His anger was still there, but he couldn't summon the hatred he'd held before when suddenly the dragon before him was now obviously broken and twisted in ways far worse than the physical blade. It wasn't pity precisely, nor sympathy, but a deeper feeling of empathy. The same empathy that had driven him to spare the lives of so many other enemies of his, such as Grimmjow.
He closed eyes and let his head fall back. Toshiro had passed this test, with all the cold and pain of it, with the wrath and disdain of his own Zanpakuto at his back. Toshiro, who was just as obsessed with protecting those who were precious to him as Ichigo himself was. And now he could understand why, years after the fact, the captain still beat himself for failing to protect Hinamori, failing to prevent the kidnapping of Orihime, failing to stop the rising of Hell's Gate.
How could anyone recover from such a thing when a personification of their own soul did nothing but despise them for each successive fault and never let them forget?
* * *
The sky was on fire. Nothing during the battles against hollows, arrancar, and Aizen could have prepared him for the sight of the very air turning to flame. The infernos, floating in the air like oil slicked clouds, turned all the sky a deep bloody red. One shunpo, two, three, his senses stretched as far as possible to locate the flares of reiatsu that marked those he had to protect.
It would have been easy now, if he wasn't in such a rush and so far from town. Literal child's play since.. he was truly dead with no body or home to return too.
Four shunpo, five, six, seven, eight, too many, ten, eleven.
And there, finally, he could see Karakura in the distance. Feel the flicker of his friend's lives, human and shinigami. Fifteen shunpo and he was by Toshiro, the captain kneeling and leaning heavily on Hyorinmaru before the last smoldering remains of what must have been hundreds of demons.
Just behind Toshiro the jewel that had cast it's protective light over Karakura lay scattered, the glow it had held faded leaving the shards looking more like regular dead rocks than the brilliant facets it had once been part off.
His fist tightened, the burn of the Hogyoku he held thrumming up his arm as he kneeled by his lover. “Toshiro?” He was personally going to rip the non-existent hearts out of every demon in hell if anything had happened to his precious ones. But Toshiro, despite bearing some heavy injuries seemed to simply be exhausted. The captain's eyes were held tightly shut, his breath coming in ragged gasps, as he leaned his forehead against his hands and zanpakuto.
“Toshiro?” Ichigo called again reaching out his free hand to touch the other, causing Toshiro to jolt and stare at him with distant eyes. Using his zanpakuto as a lever, Toshiro pulled himself up to his feet, seemingly still in a daze.
Ichigo looked about at the remains of the demons with distaste. They were creatures horrible enough to make Hollows look like petting zoo animals. At least the Hollow had been human once. Toshiro turned blank eyes at the jewel he had been charged to protect, completely blanking over the rest of the surroundings, including Ichigo. “I've failed.” he stated matter-of-factly. Ichigo didn't like the resignation in that voice, the absolute weariness of it.
“Oi, earth to Toshiro here. Hellooo.” Ichigo waved a hand in front of Toshiro's face. The captain blinked at him and finally seemed to check back into reality.
“Were you able to find the Hogyoku.” Toshiro frowned, defaulting back to his 'cold-captain' demeanor. Ichigo couldn't say he approved, not with that heavyness still in his lovers expression. Not to mention that he never took well to being treated like just another subordinate.
But he could push all that aside, for the moment there were more pressing matters. Now that the jewel was broken it was only a matter of time before... “Yeah. Kenpachi, Unohana, and Soi Fon are on their way here too an-”
The ground beneath them shook hard, causing them both to momentarily loose their footing before jumping to the air. Above the town burning clouds began to seep oily fire, like oozing waterfalls on the mountains by so far away from Karakura, but just not far enough. Below the earthquake sirens of added added their own touch to the chaos. Ichigo watched with a helpless frown as people below ran out of buildings, as best they could on the shaking ground, to escape from the debris inside. They, of course, could not see the flaming clouds but Ichigo knew too well that this was no ordinary earthquake. Again the weight of their lives fell on his shoulder like concrete truck.
The oozing flames continued to seep out of the sky, into a festering flaming mass that hung just above the mountains. Slowly the flaming sludge grew upwards, beginning to take a more rectangular form. Finally, as the fires faded away and sludge cooled into a solid, the details on its surface became clear.
First appeared the giant form of the familiar hell's gate that he'd seen when banishing evil souls and, as these gates opened, a circular door beyond it. The arrangement a mockery of the Senkaimon. The circular gate was made entirely of flame charred bones, popping and pussing blisters of flesh, and exuded a stench that immediately pervaded across the town even from that distance. People that had run into the street, and probably within buildings though he couldn't see that, suddenly fell to the ground, choked by the poisonous miasma that was seeping into the town by the slowly opening doors.
Hell's Gate had appeared on earth.
And just as the tremors on the ground ceased the familiar cries of hollows and subsonic, gut wrenching, wails of demons filled the air.
Ichigo found himself torn. Hell's Gate was on top of the mountains, far away from the town. The town where all his friends would be fighting for their lives within momemts.
“What are you waiting for!?” Toshiro's cry snapped him out of his stupor just as hundreds of hollows burst into the living world above them. But the familiar enemy did not jump at them. Instead each of the hollow took off, greedily hunting after the nearest demon, not that there was any shortage of prey. “Get the Hogyoku to that door and seal it!” Again Toshiro was using that commanding tone, which made Ichigo frown and hesitate in his place all the more.
“We'll take care of things here." Toshir changed his tactic with a sigh. "But you're the only one that can make it to that door in time to stop it from opening.” It seemed to cost Toshiro more than pride to say those words, and Ichigo could already sense Rukia and Ishida engaging in battle.
“Take care of them.” Ichigo asked finally, filing away the flinch the words prompted out of his lover for later consideration before taking off. He wanted to protect his friends in person, but the best he could do now is to stop the worst of this tragedy from occurring. Behind him he felt the heavy pulse of reiatsu that signaled Toshiro's bankai release, and he knew that before long Zaraki, Unohana, Soi Fon, and the Vaizard would be stepping into Karakura with an army of Menos, Adjuchas, and Vastro Lorde to combat the demons that were already falling out of the flaming clouds like so much rain.
He had to make it for all their sakes. Again.
* * *
“Go down the path, go down the path.
Going is easy, coming back is scary.
Even though it's scary, go down the path, go down the path.”
Ichigo woke with a gasp, trying to force his frozen body upright only to find he could barely move at all. Above him Hyorinmaru ceased with its children's lullaby and looked at him curiously.
“I was about to throw you from this world.” The dragon admonished in what was the closest thing to a caring tone of voice Ichigo had heard it use yet. Forcing frozen limbs to cooperate he slowly rolled himself onto his stomach, and then pushed himself up into a crouch. Using the barrel for support he finally pulled himself upright and onto his feet.
“And I thought we were done with this.” In the time it took Ichigo to gather his legs Hyorinmaru had lost its tender tone and was growling at him angrily. “Are you going to continue this boy?”
Ichigo didn't respond. Couldn't. Only chocked and stuttered sounds could escape from his body that was shivering so wildly he was almost convulsing. He nearly bit his tongue several times as he tried to get the words out. The thick clouds above him roiled with thunder and the wind had turned downright vicious.
“Stupid boy. Give up already. It is impossible for one person to complete the task of another. No one could have completed Zangetsu's test for you or like you, and you can not complete this test for the little master.” Hyorinmaru thrashed its head along the ground almost tipping the barrel and Ichigo over in the movement. “Get out of my realm, intruder!”
“D-deal.” he finally managed to stutter out, glaring at the dragon. “M-m-made a d-deal.” He took a deep breath forcing all he had into steadying himself for his next words. “I'll finish this.” Ichigo looked at Hyorinmaru without a single doubt in his gaze. The same cold look he'd given to many of his greatest foes before defeating them.
The dragon raised itself up with an angry hiss, then turned away from him with a dismissive sniff. “Very well. May you die trying.” The beast curled itself about the dome of ice which Ichigo had all but forgotten about, and placed its head atop it, crimson eyes glaring.
“Things will get much worse from here.” It promised, and Ichigo, no longer possessing the control to make a non stuttering reply just reached back down into the barrel. Internally he berated himself for having lost consciousness like that. Outwardly he was finding it difficult now to even grasp the seeds thanks to his shivering. The ground had practically sucked all the warmth out of him and the noise of his own chattering teeth seemed to echo oddly in his head making even thinking difficult.
But it didn't stop him from starting his march again. “Go down the path, go down the path.” the lullaby echoed eerily in the spaces of his mind that the chattering didn't completely fill.
The wind continued to pick up in pace, a howling force dead and determined to make up for all the silence that had plagued him at the beginning of this task. He wanted that silence back, his inner ears thrummed with pain at each heart beat and he couldn't feel the shell of his ears at all anymore. In fact, the same could be said for all of his extremities. The pain in his knees had faded into nothing while now his hip joint ached with every movement.
He pushed it all aside, forced his body to move again and again. He had no problems looking down at his blue feet now. He didn't bother worrying about time anymore, it was meaningless in this situation where the next move was far more important.
Slowly his shivering subsided, the hands that reached down into barrel for seeds, thoroughly blue in color. He knew this was a bad sign, that his body was shutting down, but just as quickly as the thought came it was dismissed. Bad or not, he had to finish this.
His shihakusho crackled with every step, the fabric freezing on him. He considered taking it off but again the thoughts were dismissed. It would not make any difference, at least in this state the cloth didn't flap about in the snapping winds. As his skin turned blue, the clouds above took on a dark red hue, an odd hidden sunset in this realm that only translated into a deepening darkness beneath the cloud cover.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
He didn't understand at first why he became aware of the darkness in his continues walking. By now he didn't really need light to find his path, it was worn right into the ice and snow. Ichigo made it to the barrel and reached down for another seed. It was getting to being empty, forcing him to lean bodily into it to retrieve the seeds, the edge cutting into his middle.
“And when he walks around with just his kimono on, he looks like he's wearing a skirt. But don't tell him I said that.”
As he reached down he felt a crack run up his arm, the sound momentarily stopping his rambling. When had he started to do that anyway? He blinked owlishly at his outstretched limb where a long crack, it didn't look like a cut but precisely the kind of crack you'd find in plastic or concrete, now ran the length of it. It had been this noise which had knocked him out of his walking stupor? He watched in morbid fascination as blood began to ooze sluggishly out of the laceration. For some strange reason it seamed funny that even his blood was being slow in this cold, and after that thought had time to settle fear, at his mind more than the injury, followed soon after.
For a while he stood quite literally frozen, leaning into the barrel and watching his own blood slowly goop out of an injury caused by nothing less than his skin giving way like a thin ice sheet. Then with shaking hands he picked up another seed, and started back to the crater.
He had no idea why. Part of him wanted to desperately throw in the towel right now, especially as every step was accompanied by the cracking of more skin giving away. But he couldn't. He couldn't really think of his reasons anymore either. Toshiro lingered at the back of his mind, and the crimson eyes of the dragon were still watching, and his own pride was trying to puff itself up to fill the void that his body's warmth had left behind.
But none of it really registered. He kept going because he had nothing else to do. There simply was no other path for him to take despite the fear. Eventually even his skin would stop cracking as long as he stopped caring. And it did, after a while all the points of stress on his skin had been snapped open, only the occasional crackle of frozen blood intruding on his regained stupor.
Finally, one glorious instant, he reached into the barrel and heard his fingers scrape along the bottom. There were still seeds across the outer rim, but he could see the wooden underside and a surge of familiar awareness and wakefulness rushed through him. He WAS going to finish this.
Grabbing a seed he turned and walked a little brisker, about the closest thing to a happy skip he could make at that point. He WAS going to finish. The wind kicked up in its assault, becoming a full force gale that now threatened to blow him to the ground with ever passing second. It didn't matter, he was going to finish this.
Back and forth.
He was going to finish.
Back and forth.
He was going to finish.
Back and forth.
He was going to finish.
Back and forth.
He was going to finish.
Ichigo leaned into the barrel, running his fingers along the inside. As time had passed the world around him had turned pitch black and the roaring winds silenced almost all other sounds. Was he still talking? The only light now was Hyorinmaru, a soft white glow emanating from the dragon, reminiscent of the reflected light of the moon.
The wind's snow and ice could not block the glow, and it's raging roars could not drown out the dragon's song.
“Cherry blossoms gracefully bloom o'er the fields that lie,
High up is the castle wall, where have warriors gone?
Where is the moonlight that brightly shone up high,
Shone upon the warriors who drained the glasses dry?”
Finally his searching fingers found a seed and he raised himself from the barrel. Turning painfully slowly he shuffled his feet along the ground, his left foot hitting the bottom of the barrel. A snap followed the light thunk, both sounds drowned out by the wind. Ichigo didn't notice any of it at all, couldn't feel the hit or the toes that had been broken right off his foot, and kept trudged back towards the crater.
“White frost o'er the autumn camps freezing the whole night,
Flocks of wild geese cry and pass just below the moon.
Where is the moonlight that might have shone so bright,
Shone upon the warriors' swords gleaming through the night?”
He was leaning into the barrel again, looking for those elusive seeds. A snap ran through his entire body, the shift of it impossible to miss even in his state. He looked down at his midriff, where the barrel's edge had cut straight through his frozen abdomen.
...
Where his intestines slowly spilled out of him only to be frozen almost as soon as they were touched by the outside air.
His fingers closed around a seed but he couldn't bring himself to move. He felt no shock at the sight, his mind instead turning to ponder how he could get his guts back in. He couldn't exactly leave without them, could he?
Gentle as a feather a white snout pushed itself between him and the barrel, forcing him upright and off the traitorous edge, turning him about, and giving the lightest of shoves in the direction of the crater. Maybe he could.
“Oh, the moon is rising high in the depths of night,
Silent is the ruined site lying on the ground,
Ivies creep o'er the gate in the cold moonlight,
Rustling are the pine trees through the windy night.”
Forth and back he came, stepping over the gory trail he had left in his last passage and leaning back into the barrel.
He was going to finish this.
He stayed like that for a long time, his hands groping blindly for a seed as his back completely split open from the pressure of being bent so far. Finally, again, he found a seed and with great difficulty turned around.
He was going to finish this.
Step after dragging step towards the familiar edge.
It couldn't be that many more trips now. He was going to finish this.
A tremendous gust of wind struck him from behind, causing him to stagger and fall. Two vicious snaps, barely noticed, ran through him as he hit the ground and lay there for a while. After the stun from the fall faded he tried to push himself back up to his feet, but for some strange reason couldn't figure out how too.
It took him a while of struggling to realize why, that the right no longer had a foot to stand on, the left no longer a lower leg.
No matter, the crater's edge was right there. He stretched his hand out to it but stalled. He knew it was right there, had walked the path plenty enough times, but he couldn't see, and couldn't tell when lying like this. He couldn't drop the seed anywhere else. It didn't matter why, he just couldn't.
Oh... it really didn't matter anymore at all.
“To rise and fall is people's fate, the moon shines so bright,
Looking down upon the world lying far below,
How sublime the moonlight o'er the ruined site,
How I love the moon that shines in the depths of night!”
He let his head fall, let the seed slip from his fingers. He couldn't go back, couldn't get the next seed and finish without feet to walk on. So it really didn't matter at all anymore.
He'd failed.
* * *
“Ichigo!” He startled awake with a shuddering breath. The lights above him too bright, Rukia's worried calls too loud, and everything fell into his head far too fast. He could feel the blood leave his face in a rush, and turned over and away from Rukia only seconds before his last meal forced its way out of his rebelling stomach.
Hooray, he still had a stomach.
Small hands, carefully but firmly took a hold of his shoulders, helping him up once he was done heaving. They belonged to Kotetsu, and as he took a look around Ichigo could see Rukia hovering worriedly just behind the vice-captain. Kotetus pushed a lightly glowing hand against his forehead as Ichigo continued glance about the surroundings, the movements just short of frantic.
“It's alright, Kurosaki-san.” She reassured, whatever odd technique she was using slowly drowning out the confusion in his mind and forcing him to calm.
All around him the seal that had been used to facilitate his entry into Toshiro's inner world was slowly flickering out of existance. The captain lay on a futon just a short distance away, and between them both sat Hyorinmaru. He looked at it with a mixture of relief and distaste, the blade was whole now which was strange. It should still be broken, exactly as it had been...
He'd failed after all, right?
It occurred to him that asking would probably be the quickest way to an answer. “Did it work?” He directed the question to Kotetsu, who's hand had now moved to his chest to check on his vitals.
“The blade restored itself a few minutes ago.” she explained seemingly satisfied at his general health if the relieved sigh was anything to judge by.
“Ichigo. Here.” Rukia had stepped out of his sight for a moment but now her hand on his shoulder drew his attention to her and to a glass of water she held out to him.
“Thanks.” he said, giving her deeply grateful look as he took the water and tried to wash the taste of his stomach out of his mouth.
“Well, this wasn't nearly as bad as we thought it'd be.” Kotetsu smiled awkwardly and Ichigo almost choked on his drink. “I'll call Unohana-taicho now to check on Hitsugaya-taicho.” She explained quietly, standing up and bowing lightly to them before rushing out of the room.
“Not as bad...” Ichigo coughed, trying to get his breath back, while Rukia 'helpfully' hit his back, none too gently. “How long was I out?” he asked her, raising an arm to block her next hit.
“About six hours, and you looked horrible for the last two. Did you know that you can turn blue and green like a frog?” She said, concern played clearly on her face as well as the familiar anger at him doing something amazingly stupid, again.
“No. Thanks for letting me know.” He snarked, trying to push away the memories of Hyorinmaru's test while attempting to get off the floor.
“Unohana-tachio was here just a short while ago so it shouldn't take long for her to be back.” Rukia explained as she pulled on an arm to help him up. Ichigo nodded at that but really, all that meant was that he'd have less time to go over and stomp on Hyorinmaru or check on Toshiro himself.
But just as he was getting back up a familiar lightheadedness made the room spin. The feeling he recognized well from having dealt with exhaustion so many times before. Of course, those times he tended to also be suffering from sever physical injuries, and didn't pass out like a ninny with Rukia catching him at the last instant. He could hear her calling for him, and slapping his face with bruising force, but pathetically he could not find the strength to reassure her or escape the cloying darkness the claimed his thoughts.
* * * * *
Hitsugaya opened the the back door of the room, letting the moonlight of the cool spring night seep into the infirmary. As a captain he was naturally given one of the better rooms which opened on the extensive and well tended gardens of the fourth division. He'd only woken, more precisely returned to the real world, a few minutes ago and didn't know what to do with himself now. Hyorinmaru's last cries were still echoing in his mind.
No one, not even his own Zanpakuto, was allowed to hurt those precious to Hitsugaya without consequence. He'd been there all along, trapped within that dome of ice which was clear enough to let him have a front side view of the spectacle that the dragon had made of Kurosaki's degeneration, but thick and solid enough to hold in all his cries and attempts at escape.
He stayed at the door letting his mind clear out while gazing over the garden decorated by the full moon light. In the distance he could hear the gurgle of the small stream that ran through it, but the room they were in now didn't open directly onto it. Instead his view consisted of mound of well tended Bellflowers and other fragrant plants.
After a few minutes he turned around and walked back into the room. Hyorinmaru stood, sheathed, by his bed. Wearily he grabbed it and pulled the blade out, it was whole but a deep scratch ran down the entire length of its middle. Hitsugaya wondered if the dragon had allowed him to watch the entire trial with the express goal of goading him into attacking his Zanpakuto. To finally beat and dominate the spirit as Zanpakuto, he'd been told over and over again, should be for the bankai release. He wouldn't put it passed his dragon. Hyorinmaru had a very.. unique way of working around things.
On the opposite wall from his own bed was another with a figure sleeping on his side covers pulled up all the way to his shoulders. Hitsugaya sat at the edge of it, then leaned back against him with a sigh, as his gaze focused on the Kurosaki's sleeping face. It was almost enough to make him go back to his inner realm and fight the dragon again; the memory of the hellish trial that had torn his lovers body to pieces.
“Idiot.” He muttered finally with a heavy sigh, letting himself lie down on the bed beside Kurosaki, with his head resting on the other's shoulder. Hitsugaya wouldn't have minded loosing his power, not when the alternative had been so painful to watch. He still remembered the feeling of his own bankai training far too well to know that the damage extended well beyond the physical aspect.
At least Kurosaki had had the benefit of facing it in a realm where physical damage didn't carry over at all. Toshiro's trial had been with the fully materialized and very real Hyorinmaru.
Hitsugaya wondered just how heavily this would all affect Kurosaki's psyche, or whether the man would simply bounce back from it as he had done from all other things.
He let out a snort, either way, he'd have a few bones to pick with him when the idiot woke up. He was not, as the fool had blathered on to Hyorinmaru, manically bipolar, did not have a hight complex, and was most certainly not going to let him off the hook for describing and comparing him to Chappy the bunny of all things.
The various compliments, among many other things, that had been peppered throughout Kurosaki's ramblings were sorted, filed, and made non-applicable to the severity of the future punishment.
Hitsugaya reached up a hand to brush his fingers lightly over Kurosaki's face a barely audible whisper of a “Thank you” leaving his lips. The other didn't stir under the touch and Hitsugaya was glad for it. He didn't quite feel ready yet to deal with the consequences of all this. With a resigned sigh he hid his face against the broad chest and breathed deeply.
Kurosaki was never too close.
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