[Monday, 1/1][Bleach][Tenth Division]
Monday
by Kel
Summary: [Spoilers for current manga chapters] Blindly following orders had never been their way. Tenth Division centric.
Rating/genre: PG, K+, whatever. Drama/angst (sorta)
Disclaimer: Not my sandbox. Kubo Tite et al. own the characters, setting, etc.
Author’s notes: Don’t ask. Really. I got bored at work and my boredom became a weird Tenth Div love one-shot. I don’t pretend to understand.
Seireitei’s sky shone bright and the sunlight was as hard as a diamond. Hitsugaya squinted against the bright light, wishing he’d thought to bring back the sunglasses Kurosaki had so kindly handed him one too-bright day in Living World. (He could still see the scowl on Kurosaki’s face; it had struck him rather poignantly that day that he and the substitute shinigami had a lot more in common than he’d thought. Kurosaki’s kindness was punctuated by a scowl and Hitsugaya’s gratitude had been wrapped up in a derisive snort.) Matsumoto walked one step behind him, quiet. She’d been moody as of late; he couldn’t blame her, even if her moodiness sometimes translated into her yelling at him. He glanced over his shoulder, taking her furrowed brows and thinned lips. Just yesterday, she’d yelled back at one of his sniping comments and it had shocked them both into silence.
Matsumoto looked up and caught his gaze. For a moment, she walked with him, her eyes thoughtful. When she stopped, he only took another step before halting. Somehow, he’d expected that. He didn’t turn around, though; not yet. He still looked at her over his shoulder.
Her jaw tightened and then she sighed. “It’s Tuesday,” was all she said.
He still didn’t turn around; he looked away instead, his eyes seeking the ground. Indeed, it was Tuesday. In Living World, he hated Tuesdays. Tuesdays had become filled with girlish laughter, gossip, and irritation. He never got anything done on Tuesdays. Long into the night, they would gossip and laugh and tell tales and drag him into their little circle and he hated Tuesdays then.
He hated Tuesdays now, because it reminded him of her.
He needed a Tuesday desperately, because that laughter had become a balm to his troubled soul. If anyone could laugh and gossip and tell jokes in the face of war, it was not him, and he needed to know that some people still could.
Inoue never faltered, she’d been taken - he flatly refused to believe she’d left of her own volition - and he? He’d been called back to Soul Society to face his failure, to run his division like there was never any threat of war.
Never any other person he’d actually come to care about in danger.
He needed a Tuesday. When he looked up, his arms crossed tightly against his chest, he turned to Matsumoto.
She was gone. He hadn’t even noticed her leave. Hitsugaya watched the space where she’d been for a few moments, his fingers tapping his elbow. How had that addle-brained girl wormed her way so deep into Tenth Division hearts?
A spot of black, barely visible in the bright sun, fluttered in the corner of his vision. Without thinking much about it, he held up his hand, allowing the hell butterfly to settle gently on his outstretched fingers. Apathy turned to apprehension as he listened to its message; if Kuchiki Rukia and Abarai Renji were missing, it could only mean one thing.
He wasn’t sure if this was good news or not.
Then, he realized whom the butterfly represented. This was not a message from higher-up, warning against Rukia’s and Renji’s desertion. Kuchiki-taichou never sent those sorts of messages, and he most definitely had never sent a personal message to Hitsugaya before.
The hell butterfly lifted off, buffeted by the gentle breezes. Hitsugaya watched it go, not quite seeing it as he realized the implications of the message it carried.
Implications be damned, he thought. He needed facts, and, apparently, Kuchiki-taichou was in possession of those facts.
With a quick shunpo, he was gone, heading for the Sixth Division offices.
~*~*~*~*~
Matsumoto Rangiku was wilting under the hot sun. She loved its rays, its warmth. She was, in direct contrast to her captain, all sunshine, smiles, and cheerfulness. Rangiku was the epitome of joy; her smile lit up entire rooms, and even set her notoriously tense captain at ease. She had not really smiled since they had returned to Seireitei. Matsumoto knew good and well that her trip to Living World and her association with the ryoka there had lifted her spirits immensely. Orihime had gone a long way toward dispelling the melancholy that had settled over her.
And now, Matsumoto had walked away from her. Blindly followed orders that told her to abandon her friends.
She’d tried to tell Hitsugaya-taichou that, orders be damned, she was staying right where she was. She was not leaving Orihime to Aizen. She was not going. No. Not at all.
Then, Hitsugaya had turned away from her and repeated dully that they had their orders.
She thought to argue with him - they’d defied orders before and uncovered conspiracy - but he was already slouched with defeat. He hadn’t shrugged that off since they’d returned.
Matsumoto regretted reminding him of the day.
She closed her eyes, wandering aimlessly in the marketplace outside of Seireitei. After she’d thoughtlessly spoke to Hitsugaya, she hadn’t been able to stand there and watch him brood. She hated being the person that compounded his hurt; especially so since she knew that others often underestimated his depth of emotion. She’d have to apologize later, somehow. She snorted softly. Simply saying ‘sorry’ wouldn’t cut it. He wouldn’t understand. He was too stupidly complex to get that she felt bad over saying two stupid words.
The sun was too hot today. Even through her closed eyelids, she could see red light. She crossed her arms under her breasts, hugging herself tightly.
She was a fool. She actually thought her superiors cared about the ryoka. But, one girl in the grand scheme of war was nothing, was she? It made sense, and she hated to admit that, because it tore her apart to even think of accepting Yamamoto-soutaichou’s decision. How fit were they to fight, after all, if they cared about nothing?
Matsumoto sighed; she was being idealistic again. She took another step forward, belatedly realizing that that small amount of reiatsu she sensed was directly in front of her. She tripped over her own feet, eyes squeezing shut even tighter, and she reached in front of her for something - anything - to stop her fall.
Her hands latched onto a pair of broad shoulders and she hung on mercilessly, her forehead banging into what she immediately felt was a very nice chest. Slowly - and gulping rather nervously - she looked up, her gaze traveling up a slender neck to a nicely defined jaw to amused brown eyes.
Oh, hell… she’d just groped some random passer-by and they were smiling at her? Blinking rapidly, she straightened, making sure her division badge was displayed prominently. Let him have ideas; she was Tenth’s fukutaichou and could take care of herself. She took several steps backward, inclining her head just so, already offering the perfunctory apologies. She couldn’t let it be said she was rude.
Especially since she’d been the one to run into him.
With a small sigh, she looked up; she had to see how he was taking this, after all. She had yet to look him in the face. When she finally saw him, she couldn’t help the way her throat closed.
She recognized him.
“Are you all right?” He was speaking, his brows furrowing in light concern.
She’d seen his picture. Had asked about the shrine on that wall.
“Hey, now… you look a bit pale.” He held out one hand. “Are you all right?”
Orihime said he’d always helped her up when she’d fallen; that she remembered how he held his hand to her so often. His picture was displayed prominently in Orihime’s small apartment.
Inoue Sora stood in front her, holding out his hand, eyes wide in concern.
Matsumoto bit back a surprised sob. She took a shaky breath and plastered a wide smile onto her face. “I’m fine, I’m fine. “ Her hands fluttered in front of her chest. “I’m just clumsy. So clumsy. I can’t believe I did that. I’m a fukutaichou, too. I should know better. Are you ok? I grabbed your shoulders pretty roughly; sometimes I don’t know my own strength.” At that, she punched one fist into an open palm, then winced and shook out her hand. “See? I’m amazing. Really.”
And then he laughed, and the smile she’d only seen in that picture was on his face, and suddenly she understood a little of why Orihime had loved him so much.
That smile burned worse than today’s sun.
He must have taken her look for puzzlement, because he sobered and apologized. “It’s just that you remind me so much of someone.”
Matsumoto winced. “I’m sorry.”
“No, no. Don’t be. She was the light of my life, I think.” He paused, frowning a little. “I don’t quite remember like I want to. I think… wait. No, I know she was important to me. You’re kind of like her.” He shook his head. “See? Now I’m rambling.”
Matsumoto was shaking her head. She wasn’t sure if she was refuting his statements or asking him to stop talking.
“I’m told,” he was saying, “that we’ve all left someone behind. I suppose I’ll see her someday, though.”
“That’s true,” Matsumoto found herself saying. “Someone’s always left behind.” Whether he’d see her again someday, though, was another question entirely, and she didn’t think she wanted to know the answer.
He was smiling at her, though, through sadness. “I’ve been told I shouldn’t hope, but I refuse to believe that a relationship as important as I think ours was would be abandoned.”
Matsumoto closed her eyes briefly. “So you keep hoping.” It wasn’t a question.
“I do.” His smile became soft as he struggled with half-remembered pieces of another life. “Your eyes are very blue,” he finally said, “like today’s sky. I remember it now. Hers were more… stormy. Grayer.” The smile grew. “Thank you.”
“I didn’t…”
“I know you didn’t mean to,” he said, “but you just reminded me of her…” He shrugged. “Thanks.”
Matsumoto stood still for a moment, thoughts roiling and unable to calm a suddenly nervous stomach. “I have an appointment to keep,” she finally told him, looking everywhere but at him. She barely waited for his nod of acknowledgement and his goodbye before she was gone.
She had to speak to her captain. Now.
She didn’t stop until she reached the Tenth Division offices and started actively searching for his reiatsu. He usually kept it well under wraps, but long association with each other had made her very familiar with him, and he with her. It surprised her when she felt his reiatsu fluctuating ever so slightly; he was upset.
She turned, quickly leaping forward to meet him near the Ninth Division gates. She landed in a crouch in front of him as he stepped backward to accommodate her headlong rush. As she straightened, they both spoke.
“I know I shouldn’t ask, but…”
“Matsumoto, I need you to…”
They stopped, looking at each other with a bit of amusement and a lot of resignation. Matsumoto’s lips quirked in a small smile. “We’re going?” she asked.
“We’re going,” he answered. Orihime had said something to him once, and he’d come to fully subscribe to the belief. It was easier to ask forgiveness than permission. Kuchiki had given wonderful information, and Yamamoto could yell later. Hitsugaya had more important things to do.
~*~*~*~*~*~*
The injuries to Kurosaki’s group had disheartened but not surprised Hitsugaya. They had, after all, rushed into things without planning, without gauging the enemy’s full strength. Without knowing a damn thing.
They paid for it. Rukia was nearly dead, and Kurosaki beside himself over letting it happen. He carried Rukia despite his own injuries and Hitsugaya counted him nearly useless. Renji had Ishida slung over a shoulder while Chad guarded their backs as well as he was able (which wasn’t all that able, in Hitsugaya’s opinion).
When Hitsugaya had sent his shikai twisting over their heads and into the arrancar they faced, he never actually thought he’d be met with anger. The moment he’d said anything about retreating, Kurosaki had started yelling about not abandoning people; that anything approaching keeping promises was obviously beyond Hitsugaya’s meager abilities.
Hitsugaya had met his anger with his own obstinate determination and merely repeated himself. If they were to live to rescue the girl, they needed to regroup. When Kurosaki actually raised his sword - Rukia’s inert form occupying most of his energy - Hitsugaya had snarled at him and threatened to sic Zaraki on him as soon as they got back to Seireitei. Before long, Kurosaki’s refusal to leave actually had Hitsugaya riled enough to raise his voice.
It was during their fight that Matsumoto called out a warning. Without questioning her, Hitsugaya leapt backward, Ichigo following a split second later. The ground where they had stood erupted in a shower of rock and reiatsu. Kurosaki landed in a crouch, hunched protectively over Rukia. He shared a look with Hitsugaya, and finally nodded.
About bloody time, but it came at a bad time. Hitsugaya didn’t have time to open a portal as hollow after hollow bore down on him. He swung Hyourinmaru in a wide arc, cursing himself for letting his reiatsu flare as he argued with Kurosaki. Every hollow in the area had decided he’d be a nice meal.
There were a lot of hollows in Hueco Mundo.
He didn’t have time to call on Hyourinmaru. He needed to gain a few moments for that; sheer reiatsu would take care of some of the smaller ones that dared come near him. He spun, his zanpakutou slicing through two, three masks at a time. He thrust the sword behind him, carving through a hollow’s claw as dared come near him. As he pulled the sword free, he threw a flashy kidou in front of him, trying to give himself enough time to jump free and send Hyourinmaru roaring down on them.
This was it. He leapt up, swinging the sword to the side, then pointing it toward the mass of hollows below.
There was a clang as his zanpakutou met resistance. Hitsugaya pushed back, suddenly off balance as the arrancar he’d barely caught sight of was suddenly not there. As he landed somewhat awkwardly - making note of Zabimaru flying behind him and quincy arrows around him - he heard a scream.
It was a scream he knew too well, and never, never thought he’d hear. “Matsumoto!” He wasn’t quite aware he’d called her name; he only concentrated on moving forward. Killing hollows wasn’t a priority now. Getting through the few left was.
At first, he didn’t see her; she wasn’t standing tall among the enemy. Then, in the twilight that marked Hueco Mundo, he picked out her bright hair and pale face. Too pale.
She fell as he watched. The arrancar that had briefly blocked Hitsugaya’s blade laughed as it surveyed its bloody claws. Their tips fell against Matsumoto’s throat.
Hyourinmaru roared.
Hitsugaya watched with deceptive impassivity as the arrancar danced backward, laughter fading as it blocked the shikai. It hissed at him, claws clacking together as it slithered side to side. Hitsugaya ignored it for the moment and stood over his subordinate.
Her eyes stared back at him, dull.
Lifeless.
The world dimmed. His sword’s tip wavered. Abruptly, he turned, one hand raised. “Abarai!” When the redhead turned to look at him as a quincy arrow took out the last hollow, Hitsugaya opened the gate. “Get them out of here. Now.”
Abarai looked ready to argue. Hitsugaya pinned him with a glare and then stepped aside. “Get her out of here,” he said more softly.
As Chad ushered his comrades out of Hueco Mundo, Abarai gathered Matsumoto into his arms. “Hitsugaya-taichou…”
Hitsugaya was watching the arrancar as it stepped closer. “I’ll be right behind you.” He almost didn’t wait for Abarai to be clear before he pointed his sword toward the arrancar.
“Bankai.”
Nothing more needed said. Abarai stood in mute astonishment as Hitsugaya leapt forward, dragon’s wings unfurling and glinting in the dim light. He held Matsumoto close, relief flooding through him as he felt her too-light breath on his neck and the shivers that wracked her cold body.
She was still alive.
He wondered if Hitsugaya knew that.
Judging by the way he was chasing down that arrancar, probably not, Abarai decided wryly.
The arrancar tried to dodge a thrust, but Hitsugaya was nothing if not focused. One beat of those wings, and the angle was changed. Hyourinmaru cut through the arrancar’s armor and bit deeply into its chest. Hitsugaya drove it to the ground, the expression on his face unchanging as its back hit the dirt with enough force to jar them both.
Abarai watched, wide-eyed, as the icy wings and tail began to crumble, shattering like thin glass around the pair. Hitsugaya twisted the sword, and pulled it free, blood arcing, splashing on his hakama and at his feet. He turned toward Abarai, his sword dripping blood, and frowned.
“I told you to leave.”
Abarai shrugged, too caught up in the haunted, drawn look on Hitsugaya’s face to say anything.
“You were supposed to take her back.”
Abarai nodded, closing his eyes for a second against unguarded anger and fear in Hitsugaya’s voice. He doubted he’d ever be privy to it again. He doubted he wanted to. “She’s alive,” he blurted out, because he knew he had to say something.
Hitsugaya blinked at him, and then shifted his gaze to her face. One hand rose a few inches, and then fell. He swallowed a couple times before finding his voice. “Then make sure she stays that way. Let’s go.”
Hitsugaya followed him through the gate, closing it without thinking after he stepped through. There, on the edge of the field, stood Kuchiki-taichou and Unohana-taichou was already stepping forward. Hitsugaya stood over Abarai as he gently knelt, Matsumoto’s head lolling against his neck. Abarai pretended not to notice the way Hitsugaya’s hand trembled as he laid it on his fukutaichou’s shoulder.
“We’ll find Tuesday,” he told her quietly, and waited for Unohana to come.
by Kel
Summary: [Spoilers for current manga chapters] Blindly following orders had never been their way. Tenth Division centric.
Rating/genre: PG, K+, whatever. Drama/angst (sorta)
Disclaimer: Not my sandbox. Kubo Tite et al. own the characters, setting, etc.
Author’s notes: Don’t ask. Really. I got bored at work and my boredom became a weird Tenth Div love one-shot. I don’t pretend to understand.
Seireitei’s sky shone bright and the sunlight was as hard as a diamond. Hitsugaya squinted against the bright light, wishing he’d thought to bring back the sunglasses Kurosaki had so kindly handed him one too-bright day in Living World. (He could still see the scowl on Kurosaki’s face; it had struck him rather poignantly that day that he and the substitute shinigami had a lot more in common than he’d thought. Kurosaki’s kindness was punctuated by a scowl and Hitsugaya’s gratitude had been wrapped up in a derisive snort.) Matsumoto walked one step behind him, quiet. She’d been moody as of late; he couldn’t blame her, even if her moodiness sometimes translated into her yelling at him. He glanced over his shoulder, taking her furrowed brows and thinned lips. Just yesterday, she’d yelled back at one of his sniping comments and it had shocked them both into silence.
Matsumoto looked up and caught his gaze. For a moment, she walked with him, her eyes thoughtful. When she stopped, he only took another step before halting. Somehow, he’d expected that. He didn’t turn around, though; not yet. He still looked at her over his shoulder.
Her jaw tightened and then she sighed. “It’s Tuesday,” was all she said.
He still didn’t turn around; he looked away instead, his eyes seeking the ground. Indeed, it was Tuesday. In Living World, he hated Tuesdays. Tuesdays had become filled with girlish laughter, gossip, and irritation. He never got anything done on Tuesdays. Long into the night, they would gossip and laugh and tell tales and drag him into their little circle and he hated Tuesdays then.
He hated Tuesdays now, because it reminded him of her.
He needed a Tuesday desperately, because that laughter had become a balm to his troubled soul. If anyone could laugh and gossip and tell jokes in the face of war, it was not him, and he needed to know that some people still could.
Inoue never faltered, she’d been taken - he flatly refused to believe she’d left of her own volition - and he? He’d been called back to Soul Society to face his failure, to run his division like there was never any threat of war.
Never any other person he’d actually come to care about in danger.
He needed a Tuesday. When he looked up, his arms crossed tightly against his chest, he turned to Matsumoto.
She was gone. He hadn’t even noticed her leave. Hitsugaya watched the space where she’d been for a few moments, his fingers tapping his elbow. How had that addle-brained girl wormed her way so deep into Tenth Division hearts?
A spot of black, barely visible in the bright sun, fluttered in the corner of his vision. Without thinking much about it, he held up his hand, allowing the hell butterfly to settle gently on his outstretched fingers. Apathy turned to apprehension as he listened to its message; if Kuchiki Rukia and Abarai Renji were missing, it could only mean one thing.
He wasn’t sure if this was good news or not.
Then, he realized whom the butterfly represented. This was not a message from higher-up, warning against Rukia’s and Renji’s desertion. Kuchiki-taichou never sent those sorts of messages, and he most definitely had never sent a personal message to Hitsugaya before.
The hell butterfly lifted off, buffeted by the gentle breezes. Hitsugaya watched it go, not quite seeing it as he realized the implications of the message it carried.
Implications be damned, he thought. He needed facts, and, apparently, Kuchiki-taichou was in possession of those facts.
With a quick shunpo, he was gone, heading for the Sixth Division offices.
~*~*~*~*~
Matsumoto Rangiku was wilting under the hot sun. She loved its rays, its warmth. She was, in direct contrast to her captain, all sunshine, smiles, and cheerfulness. Rangiku was the epitome of joy; her smile lit up entire rooms, and even set her notoriously tense captain at ease. She had not really smiled since they had returned to Seireitei. Matsumoto knew good and well that her trip to Living World and her association with the ryoka there had lifted her spirits immensely. Orihime had gone a long way toward dispelling the melancholy that had settled over her.
And now, Matsumoto had walked away from her. Blindly followed orders that told her to abandon her friends.
She’d tried to tell Hitsugaya-taichou that, orders be damned, she was staying right where she was. She was not leaving Orihime to Aizen. She was not going. No. Not at all.
Then, Hitsugaya had turned away from her and repeated dully that they had their orders.
She thought to argue with him - they’d defied orders before and uncovered conspiracy - but he was already slouched with defeat. He hadn’t shrugged that off since they’d returned.
Matsumoto regretted reminding him of the day.
She closed her eyes, wandering aimlessly in the marketplace outside of Seireitei. After she’d thoughtlessly spoke to Hitsugaya, she hadn’t been able to stand there and watch him brood. She hated being the person that compounded his hurt; especially so since she knew that others often underestimated his depth of emotion. She’d have to apologize later, somehow. She snorted softly. Simply saying ‘sorry’ wouldn’t cut it. He wouldn’t understand. He was too stupidly complex to get that she felt bad over saying two stupid words.
The sun was too hot today. Even through her closed eyelids, she could see red light. She crossed her arms under her breasts, hugging herself tightly.
She was a fool. She actually thought her superiors cared about the ryoka. But, one girl in the grand scheme of war was nothing, was she? It made sense, and she hated to admit that, because it tore her apart to even think of accepting Yamamoto-soutaichou’s decision. How fit were they to fight, after all, if they cared about nothing?
Matsumoto sighed; she was being idealistic again. She took another step forward, belatedly realizing that that small amount of reiatsu she sensed was directly in front of her. She tripped over her own feet, eyes squeezing shut even tighter, and she reached in front of her for something - anything - to stop her fall.
Her hands latched onto a pair of broad shoulders and she hung on mercilessly, her forehead banging into what she immediately felt was a very nice chest. Slowly - and gulping rather nervously - she looked up, her gaze traveling up a slender neck to a nicely defined jaw to amused brown eyes.
Oh, hell… she’d just groped some random passer-by and they were smiling at her? Blinking rapidly, she straightened, making sure her division badge was displayed prominently. Let him have ideas; she was Tenth’s fukutaichou and could take care of herself. She took several steps backward, inclining her head just so, already offering the perfunctory apologies. She couldn’t let it be said she was rude.
Especially since she’d been the one to run into him.
With a small sigh, she looked up; she had to see how he was taking this, after all. She had yet to look him in the face. When she finally saw him, she couldn’t help the way her throat closed.
She recognized him.
“Are you all right?” He was speaking, his brows furrowing in light concern.
She’d seen his picture. Had asked about the shrine on that wall.
“Hey, now… you look a bit pale.” He held out one hand. “Are you all right?”
Orihime said he’d always helped her up when she’d fallen; that she remembered how he held his hand to her so often. His picture was displayed prominently in Orihime’s small apartment.
Inoue Sora stood in front her, holding out his hand, eyes wide in concern.
Matsumoto bit back a surprised sob. She took a shaky breath and plastered a wide smile onto her face. “I’m fine, I’m fine. “ Her hands fluttered in front of her chest. “I’m just clumsy. So clumsy. I can’t believe I did that. I’m a fukutaichou, too. I should know better. Are you ok? I grabbed your shoulders pretty roughly; sometimes I don’t know my own strength.” At that, she punched one fist into an open palm, then winced and shook out her hand. “See? I’m amazing. Really.”
And then he laughed, and the smile she’d only seen in that picture was on his face, and suddenly she understood a little of why Orihime had loved him so much.
That smile burned worse than today’s sun.
He must have taken her look for puzzlement, because he sobered and apologized. “It’s just that you remind me so much of someone.”
Matsumoto winced. “I’m sorry.”
“No, no. Don’t be. She was the light of my life, I think.” He paused, frowning a little. “I don’t quite remember like I want to. I think… wait. No, I know she was important to me. You’re kind of like her.” He shook his head. “See? Now I’m rambling.”
Matsumoto was shaking her head. She wasn’t sure if she was refuting his statements or asking him to stop talking.
“I’m told,” he was saying, “that we’ve all left someone behind. I suppose I’ll see her someday, though.”
“That’s true,” Matsumoto found herself saying. “Someone’s always left behind.” Whether he’d see her again someday, though, was another question entirely, and she didn’t think she wanted to know the answer.
He was smiling at her, though, through sadness. “I’ve been told I shouldn’t hope, but I refuse to believe that a relationship as important as I think ours was would be abandoned.”
Matsumoto closed her eyes briefly. “So you keep hoping.” It wasn’t a question.
“I do.” His smile became soft as he struggled with half-remembered pieces of another life. “Your eyes are very blue,” he finally said, “like today’s sky. I remember it now. Hers were more… stormy. Grayer.” The smile grew. “Thank you.”
“I didn’t…”
“I know you didn’t mean to,” he said, “but you just reminded me of her…” He shrugged. “Thanks.”
Matsumoto stood still for a moment, thoughts roiling and unable to calm a suddenly nervous stomach. “I have an appointment to keep,” she finally told him, looking everywhere but at him. She barely waited for his nod of acknowledgement and his goodbye before she was gone.
She had to speak to her captain. Now.
She didn’t stop until she reached the Tenth Division offices and started actively searching for his reiatsu. He usually kept it well under wraps, but long association with each other had made her very familiar with him, and he with her. It surprised her when she felt his reiatsu fluctuating ever so slightly; he was upset.
She turned, quickly leaping forward to meet him near the Ninth Division gates. She landed in a crouch in front of him as he stepped backward to accommodate her headlong rush. As she straightened, they both spoke.
“I know I shouldn’t ask, but…”
“Matsumoto, I need you to…”
They stopped, looking at each other with a bit of amusement and a lot of resignation. Matsumoto’s lips quirked in a small smile. “We’re going?” she asked.
“We’re going,” he answered. Orihime had said something to him once, and he’d come to fully subscribe to the belief. It was easier to ask forgiveness than permission. Kuchiki had given wonderful information, and Yamamoto could yell later. Hitsugaya had more important things to do.
~*~*~*~*~*~*
The injuries to Kurosaki’s group had disheartened but not surprised Hitsugaya. They had, after all, rushed into things without planning, without gauging the enemy’s full strength. Without knowing a damn thing.
They paid for it. Rukia was nearly dead, and Kurosaki beside himself over letting it happen. He carried Rukia despite his own injuries and Hitsugaya counted him nearly useless. Renji had Ishida slung over a shoulder while Chad guarded their backs as well as he was able (which wasn’t all that able, in Hitsugaya’s opinion).
When Hitsugaya had sent his shikai twisting over their heads and into the arrancar they faced, he never actually thought he’d be met with anger. The moment he’d said anything about retreating, Kurosaki had started yelling about not abandoning people; that anything approaching keeping promises was obviously beyond Hitsugaya’s meager abilities.
Hitsugaya had met his anger with his own obstinate determination and merely repeated himself. If they were to live to rescue the girl, they needed to regroup. When Kurosaki actually raised his sword - Rukia’s inert form occupying most of his energy - Hitsugaya had snarled at him and threatened to sic Zaraki on him as soon as they got back to Seireitei. Before long, Kurosaki’s refusal to leave actually had Hitsugaya riled enough to raise his voice.
It was during their fight that Matsumoto called out a warning. Without questioning her, Hitsugaya leapt backward, Ichigo following a split second later. The ground where they had stood erupted in a shower of rock and reiatsu. Kurosaki landed in a crouch, hunched protectively over Rukia. He shared a look with Hitsugaya, and finally nodded.
About bloody time, but it came at a bad time. Hitsugaya didn’t have time to open a portal as hollow after hollow bore down on him. He swung Hyourinmaru in a wide arc, cursing himself for letting his reiatsu flare as he argued with Kurosaki. Every hollow in the area had decided he’d be a nice meal.
There were a lot of hollows in Hueco Mundo.
He didn’t have time to call on Hyourinmaru. He needed to gain a few moments for that; sheer reiatsu would take care of some of the smaller ones that dared come near him. He spun, his zanpakutou slicing through two, three masks at a time. He thrust the sword behind him, carving through a hollow’s claw as dared come near him. As he pulled the sword free, he threw a flashy kidou in front of him, trying to give himself enough time to jump free and send Hyourinmaru roaring down on them.
This was it. He leapt up, swinging the sword to the side, then pointing it toward the mass of hollows below.
There was a clang as his zanpakutou met resistance. Hitsugaya pushed back, suddenly off balance as the arrancar he’d barely caught sight of was suddenly not there. As he landed somewhat awkwardly - making note of Zabimaru flying behind him and quincy arrows around him - he heard a scream.
It was a scream he knew too well, and never, never thought he’d hear. “Matsumoto!” He wasn’t quite aware he’d called her name; he only concentrated on moving forward. Killing hollows wasn’t a priority now. Getting through the few left was.
At first, he didn’t see her; she wasn’t standing tall among the enemy. Then, in the twilight that marked Hueco Mundo, he picked out her bright hair and pale face. Too pale.
She fell as he watched. The arrancar that had briefly blocked Hitsugaya’s blade laughed as it surveyed its bloody claws. Their tips fell against Matsumoto’s throat.
Hyourinmaru roared.
Hitsugaya watched with deceptive impassivity as the arrancar danced backward, laughter fading as it blocked the shikai. It hissed at him, claws clacking together as it slithered side to side. Hitsugaya ignored it for the moment and stood over his subordinate.
Her eyes stared back at him, dull.
Lifeless.
The world dimmed. His sword’s tip wavered. Abruptly, he turned, one hand raised. “Abarai!” When the redhead turned to look at him as a quincy arrow took out the last hollow, Hitsugaya opened the gate. “Get them out of here. Now.”
Abarai looked ready to argue. Hitsugaya pinned him with a glare and then stepped aside. “Get her out of here,” he said more softly.
As Chad ushered his comrades out of Hueco Mundo, Abarai gathered Matsumoto into his arms. “Hitsugaya-taichou…”
Hitsugaya was watching the arrancar as it stepped closer. “I’ll be right behind you.” He almost didn’t wait for Abarai to be clear before he pointed his sword toward the arrancar.
“Bankai.”
Nothing more needed said. Abarai stood in mute astonishment as Hitsugaya leapt forward, dragon’s wings unfurling and glinting in the dim light. He held Matsumoto close, relief flooding through him as he felt her too-light breath on his neck and the shivers that wracked her cold body.
She was still alive.
He wondered if Hitsugaya knew that.
Judging by the way he was chasing down that arrancar, probably not, Abarai decided wryly.
The arrancar tried to dodge a thrust, but Hitsugaya was nothing if not focused. One beat of those wings, and the angle was changed. Hyourinmaru cut through the arrancar’s armor and bit deeply into its chest. Hitsugaya drove it to the ground, the expression on his face unchanging as its back hit the dirt with enough force to jar them both.
Abarai watched, wide-eyed, as the icy wings and tail began to crumble, shattering like thin glass around the pair. Hitsugaya twisted the sword, and pulled it free, blood arcing, splashing on his hakama and at his feet. He turned toward Abarai, his sword dripping blood, and frowned.
“I told you to leave.”
Abarai shrugged, too caught up in the haunted, drawn look on Hitsugaya’s face to say anything.
“You were supposed to take her back.”
Abarai nodded, closing his eyes for a second against unguarded anger and fear in Hitsugaya’s voice. He doubted he’d ever be privy to it again. He doubted he wanted to. “She’s alive,” he blurted out, because he knew he had to say something.
Hitsugaya blinked at him, and then shifted his gaze to her face. One hand rose a few inches, and then fell. He swallowed a couple times before finding his voice. “Then make sure she stays that way. Let’s go.”
Hitsugaya followed him through the gate, closing it without thinking after he stepped through. There, on the edge of the field, stood Kuchiki-taichou and Unohana-taichou was already stepping forward. Hitsugaya stood over Abarai as he gently knelt, Matsumoto’s head lolling against his neck. Abarai pretended not to notice the way Hitsugaya’s hand trembled as he laid it on his fukutaichou’s shoulder.
“We’ll find Tuesday,” he told her quietly, and waited for Unohana to come.