Bleach 1. Chapter 1

**Notes**: So... I needed pre-captain!Toshiro and some Shuuhei appreciation (cause he's awesome).

Woops?

Please note this story ignores the non-canon events from 'The Diamond Dust Rebellion' (god I hated that movie).

Please enjoy! I hope I've done the two characters justice.

* * *

**An Affinity for Ashes**

**Chapter 1**

* * *

Though Shuuhei Hisagi had known about the existence of the Academy's current prodigious genius - everybody had - he had not once stopped to consider who Tōshirō Hitsugaya actually was until the mousey, sombre child turned up outside the Ninth Division gates with his too-long zanpakuto tied loosely onto his back, and his even longer uniform drowning his minuscule frame. Unlike the majority of the new recruits loitering around the grounds, the winter hare was skittish only with his eyes; sharp and an astutely intelligent teal, and endearingly approachable solely from afar; white locks fluffed atop a pale, snow-kissed baby face, but cold frown frozen deep into the chubby layers of innocence. Shuuhei watched the boy for a few moments, noting keenly that a subconscious wave of his sharp icy reiatsu continuously pulsed outwards. Whether that was due to a lack of control over the terrible vastness of his powers or reflecting his instinct to protect himself couldn't be falsified, but Shuuhei knew, just by simply observing the young officer from a distance – and without immediately flaunting the judgmental nature of people - that it didn't make a difference. Uncertainty and resentment both bred fear, and all three of those emotions would result in the singularity of the exotic mastermind. The other recruits gave the tiny lad a wide berth; Hitsugaya scowled at the white of his tabi, glaring as if his shoes could entice the chatting group of shinigami to include him in their joy.

Shuuhei sighed and glanced over at the Ninth and Tenth seats standing at his side. Neither of them seemed to pay the littlest recruit any mind; instead they were grumbling about the lack of restraint in the others - perfect roles models, he thought cynically, though they at least had earned the right to gossip. Years of hard work had rewarded them with their current positions - the newbies from the Academy had a long way to go.

First and foremost they needed to be toughened up. The Academy taught mere basics; not enough to survive beyond a solitary, inexcusably simple-minded Hollow. Each of their individual natures and skills would need to be excelled to a degree where improvising in the heat of battle was instinct. Strict form and regiment foundations were useless outside of a classroom setting - a lesson the new recruits always struggled to comprehend. Shuuhei knew this wasn't their fault - after years of following the same rules the mechanics of life in a division came as quite a shock. The Ninth Division, however, took pride in their careful yet effective methods of introducing the recruits to their new environment, and that was why Shuuhei was currently observing Hitsugaya and his classmates with his reiatsu tucked away, almost undetectable.

If they didn't notice him by the time he was five feet away then he was going to have his work cut out for him. Hopefully it wouldn't reach that point as it had during the last graduation. Shuuhei couldn't remember who was more mortified - him, or the tumbling-over-themselves recruits who had screamed at the sight of him. Wary of a repeat of that moment, Shuuhei signalled an initiation to his two comrades. Upon noticing they quietened immediately, lest they unwittingly give the game away and ruin perhaps one of the most influential moments of judging the capabilities of the new recruits. To be stalked upon in the safety of their own home was cruel for the graduates, but ultimately that was the order of life and Shuuhei would rather them paranoid and alive than buried six foot under in their naivety.

Hitsugaya was clearly paranoid already. Though marginally slouched to his left side (a stance due to be corrected), there were hints in his body language that he was attempting to observe the things and people around him. Unlike his chatting classmates, he seemed to be discreetly aware of his surroundings. Not to the same degree as those of Shuuhei's skill of course, but there was something almost professional about the child; something Shuuhei rarely saw in the new recruits. No, he thought, correcting himself as he braved another step, _professional_ wasn't the right word. There weren't enough scars in and on the surface of Hitsugaya's fragile, ghostly body for him to be considered professional. Though grateful for this, Shuuhei supposed to say that the child had an _experienced_ air was perhaps more suitable.

Aware that the boy had only been taken Hollow hunting once in his brief time at the Academy (if the reports were to be wholly trusted), Shuuhei could only wildly fathom where he had acquired that experience from. The Academy was often hugely criticised for its lack of realism; it was a school and such things should be expected, but criticism was a favourite pastime of many, Shuuhei knew. Yet somehow – _somehow_ – one of the students had attained the taste of life while locked away in the bubble of youthful fantasy, and though Shuuhei knew not all of those who went through the Academy had come from a peaceful background, Hitsugaya certainly had, so for someone of his status to have kicked the dog of death so early in his shinigami life and managed to escape unscathed was an oddity – if nothing else.

Caught up in wondering what had happened to the young recruit, Shuuhei almost missed the silent shuffle of feet and the flicker of jagged, frigid reiatsu. Maintaining his neutral persona in face of the change, the Ninth Division officer inwardly sighed in relief that at least one of the graduates had skills keen enough to notice him. He was yet upon the larger group still aimlessly gossiping some metres away, but the bottled up avalanche was looking in his direction with a small frown. Deciding he might as well let the kid know what was going on now that he had passed the test, Shuuhei let his existence be seen before abruptly sneaking from view yet again.

None of the other people in the area so much as twitched. Hitsugaya, however, positively _glowered_. Shuuhei nearly let loose a laugh at the sight as he advanced.

Death may have already torn its way into Hitsugaya's short life, but there was no doubt in Shuuhei's mind that the kid could bite back just as fiercely. Though it was unfortunate that such a defence mechanism was required, Shuuhei felt grateful to know that Hitsugaya wasn't a helpless pushover – those kinds of people didn't last long in the Gotei Thirteen and the raven haired shinigami could already feel a soft spot developing in his heart for the kid. He was aware that he shouldn't show favouritism as a high seated officer, but even a blind man could see that captains and lieutenants alike didn't abide by that rule. Plus, if it would keep Hitsugaya alive to achieve his full potential – which Shuuhei was convinced was greater than anything he could ever imagine – then keeping his eye on the recruit wouldn't be a bad thing.

Two minutes later all of the recruits bar one were getting lectured by the Ninth Seat. Standing slightly apart from the abashed group Hitsugaya was watching silently, though the fact that his perceptive gaze was hidden behind his fringe meant Shuuhei couldn't quite be sure of this. Deciding that it didn't matter either way for what he intended, Shuuhei strode over with a large, welcoming gait. Hitsugaya twitched towards him, both of his small hands reflexively clenching – just for a second, and then he seemed to realise who he was about to threaten and forced himself to stand to attention.

Shuuhei smiled as best he could. "Well done," he said, keeping his voice low so that they weren't overheard. It would be unproductive to further single the boy out from his peers.

Hitsugaya frowned at the praise, yet there was a light in his eyes that suggested he didn't want to. "Thank you," he replied politely, dipping into a bow.

Shuuhei returned a shallower bow and noticed disapprovingly that the recruit startled, as if being shown any degree of respect was uncustomary. "I'm Shuuhei Hisagi, the Fourth Seat here at the Ninth."

"Tōshirō Hitsugaya," came the curt, albeit somewhat mumbled, reply. He was not quite shy (there was too much witty ferocity in his words for that) – withdrawn, definitely, and easily uncomfortable in social situations. Shuuhei continued to smile encouragingly, hoping to coax the boy out of his diamond shell.

"Do you have any aspirations, Hitsugaya-san?"

On one hand he wanted to keep the conversation going (Hitsugaya appeared to be doing his best at saying the barest minimum while still maintaining his politeness); on the other he was genuinely interested in the boy he had met hardly ten minutes prior. Yet Shuuhei wasn't certain what exactly it was about Hitsugaya that fascinated him; an enigma wrapped in introversion, undoubtedly he would be a tough nut to crack – a fortress; a barricade. But being of the Ninth Division meant that he didn't back down from a challenge; his sights set on Hitsugaya, he was determined to find a way into the innermost of the boy's personality. Not through force – no, a siege against such defences would be fruitless – but by walking right in through the front door.

All he had to do was knock and hope he received a pleasant reception. Hitsugaya's immense reiatsu was a stark message to all those who wanted entrance that there was a guard dog on the other side; one prepared to fight tooth and claw protect the master of the house. Coming face to face with such a beast would be dangerous: Shuuhei wouldn't be able to predict who would come out of the brawl better off.

But, if anything, that only encouraged him. He was going to offer his assistance whether Hitsugaya wanted it or not.

"Sorry," he said, tuning back into the conversation after missing whatever Hitsugaya said in response. "Could you repeat that please?"

The rosy flush on the tip of the boy's pastel nose suggested that he hadn't intended to have his comment heard in the first place, and thus repeated it to attentive ears was the last thing he wanted.

"I'd quite like not to get torn to pieces, Hisagi-san, if that can count as an aspiration."

Shuuhei blinked at the sudden wit, having known it was there but not having expected it so soon into the conversation. Immediately discouraged by the reaction, Hitsugaya's flush bled out of his cheeks to leave a wasted, pale complexion, and a hard smile prepared for brutality. He ducked his head, letting his ghostly hair hide his embarrassment, and added;

"Excuse me, Hisagi-san, I don't have any current ambitions to share."

Woops, thought Shuuhei, cursing himself for screwing things up. As fate would have it he didn't get the opportunity to fix his mistake, for there and then the Ninth Seat called to him, apparently finished wearing the newbies down into a mortified, palatable mess of their former cockiness. Hitsugaya's already formidable shell seemed to snap back into place (not that Shuuhei believed for a second that it had dropped even a fraction during their tiny conversation) and once again he was but an insignificant status of ice. Irritated, the Forth Seat submitted to the knowledge of a missed chance, and strode across the gravel to his place amongst his more experienced comrades. He glanced Hitsugaya's way just once during the remainder of the induction – not, that is, that the boy had altered his facial expression in the slightest.

Shuuhei sighed.

Well that could have gone better.

He'd have to try again later.

* * *

'Later' came in the form of a miscommunication between two seated officers and a bunch of new members running around on a wild goose chase at nine o'clock in the evening some days after the induction.

"What do you mean Ogawa-san's looking for them? How on earth has she lost three recruits already?"

Shuuhei fixed the Fifth Seat with an expectant frown and the greying librarian-type man spluttered bewilderedly.

"You saw them last," noted Shuuhei, crossing his arms impatiently. They were in the small alcove adjoining the captain and lieutenant's office, but as neither of the two superior officers were working Shuuhei didn't mind raising his voice a little to get the point of his anger across. "Apparently Fujita-san sent them your way?"

The Fifth Seat's thinning eyebrows dropped, a thoughtful expression settling in-between the hard lines of age. "My apologies Hisagi-san, but I don't understand how I've contributed to their wandering off. They came to me asking to verify that the reports on the lieutenant's desk were due for the Twelfth Division – which I confirmed they were – and then they left. That was some hours ago now."

Completely unhelpful except to lay the blame on someone else – grand, thought Shuuhei. "Do you have any idea where they went?"

The older man shrugged but looked faintly apologetic. Aware that he would get little else from his company, Shuuhei bowed and thanked the man.

"Really though," said the Fifth Seat, just as Shuuhei was preparing to shut the door. "They can't have gone far – one of them's a walking thermostat."

Having absolutely no idea what a 'thermostat' was, Shuuhei closed the door without replying. He paused there for a moment, as if the wooden grains of the door would magically reveal where the lost officers were, and then shunpoed away.

He eventually found the group loitering near the jurisdiction of the captain's gardens. Normally he would have put an immediate stop to such suspicious shenanigans so close to a restricted area, but the trio were using a carefully manipulated Shakkaho to light their debate in an almost eerie scarlet glow, and he had to admit that it impressed him. It was an astonishing achievement for a boy barely out of the Academy, but Hitsugaya didn't seem to notice the complexity of his work as the pair of girls he was with whispered to each other in low, puzzled tones. There was a scribbled drawing of some sorts in his free hand, and as Shuuhei moved towards the boundaries of their conversation he realised that it was a hastily drawn map of the grounds. In Fujita's blue handwriting it truly was an awful attempt at the Ninth Division layout, and if the muttered words between the three young officers were anything to go by, they were thinking the same.

"I think it's safe to say that we've been sent completely in the wrong direction," grumbled the first girl, peering at the map illuminated between them. Artificial lighting was scare around this area – Shuuhei would be surprised if they had any inkling as to where they were standing.

"And whose fault is that?" snapped the second girl, scowling deeply.

"Oh, well," said the first, clearly shaken by the question. "Probably Seventh Seat Fuji –"

"_Yours_, obviously," the other interrupted, her vicious snarl directed at the quietest member of the group. Shuuhei felt his eyebrows shoot up at the accusation; Hitsugaya, however, simply apologies with a glum, subdued voice of submission.

The ball of light hovering above his hand flickered.

The hot-headed girl continued to rant at her two companions, both of whom just let her complain with tightly closed lips. Whereas the politer girl's expression was that of a wounded meekness, Hitsugaya was utterly composed against the vulgarity, still letting his reiatsu drain away to provide them all with the warm comfort of a light.

Shuuhei would have probably mumbled something about a 'spineless coward' had he not seen part of himself – just for a second – in the boy.

He cleared his throat pointedly behind the rambling girl. She jumped half a foot in the air and cut her sentence off with a yelp – had Shuuhei been a Hollow, he noted, she would have been long dead.

The other girl bowed. Hitsugaya hesitated, a calculating gaze fixed on the miraculous appearance of the Fourth Seat, before doing the same.

"I think perhaps you should all turn in for the night," Shuuhei announced, sighing down at their childish faces. He cast his own Shakkaho to provide more light – it drowned out the glow of Hitsugaya's fading attempt with ease; the boy pulled his reiatsu back in and tried not to look disgruntled.

_Bite me_, Shuuhei thought, fighting back a smile. _Come on, I know you can._

The three recruits stared at him, probably waiting for him to continue. He tried to slip his encouraging yet stern face on; it wasn't their fault they were wandering around in the dark, after all. They were no doubt aware that they should have reported back to Ogawa already, yet disobeying a direct order from a higher seated officer would potentially get them into even greater trouble, so it was no surprise that they were still trying to fulfil a task that wasn't actually necessary – not that they knew that.

He continued on. "I'll ask one of the night guards to pass on a message to Fujita-san and Ogawa-san – go back to your quarters, we can sort this out in the morning."

The rowdy girl blinked aimlessly at him. Hitsugaya and the other exchanged a meaningful glance, a silent question passing between them. Somewhat surprised by that, Shuuhei allowed his gaze to appreciate the kinder of the two female officers for the first time. Perhaps a decade older than Hitsugaya in appearance, a roasted chestnut of hair sat atop a round, distinctly pretty face, and eyes the serene colour of the ocean squinted against the harsh light of Shuuhei's kido. She was taller than her male comrade (though the majority were) and not quite as terrifyingly skinny; she held herself with nervousness and uncertainty, but stood by Hitsugaya in a striking display of disregard for the social discrimination against him. Already the duo were wordlessly communicating in the dark – Shuuhei felt a twinge of relief at the sight; though most were against him, it seemed Hitsugaya might be able to find his place in the Ninth Division after all.

He would have to find out her name. Undoubtedly it would provide useful in the future.

"Come on," he said, turning to make his way back towards the main building. "I'll show you the way back."

They followed him obediently. The girls' dorm was the closest so he deposited the two female officers off first – they thanked him with embarrassed bows and headed in different directions, unwilling to associate with each other beyond necessity. When Hitsugaya's new friend waved at him happily in farewell Shuuhei had to nudge the boy to encourage him to do the same. Expression morphed into an odd combination of pleasure and mortification, Hitsugaya's returning wave was incredibly awkward, but the young Tomomi Yukimura didn't appear to mind.

Shuuhei felt pretty impressed with himself, guiding the confused officer to the boys' dorm, and it must have shown on his face for Hitsugaya was blushing furiously when they arrived, his scowl failing in an attempt at scaring his reddening cheeks into fading.

"Maybe your new ambition should be to understand the language of girls," Shuuhei teased, subtlety bringing up their previous conversation.

Hitsugaya regarded him carefully, like a hiding mouse spying on a predacious cat. "I think that would be more than a life's work, Hisagi-san."

Shuuhei grinned and gently pushed the boy through the doorway. Though he wanted to get to know Hitsugaya and help him feel welcome in the Ninth, he couldn't help but feel that he should try and understand his own intentions before pressing them onto the child-like shinigami. Making Hitsugaya uncomfortable was the last thing Shuuhei wanted, so preparing for any concerned questions that might be directed towards him was probably a good place to start.

Plus, he still needed to figure out why he had taken such a shine to Hitsugaya There was just something about the boy that he magnetised towards. What, he wasn't certain, but Shuuhei knew he would find out eventually.

"Goodnight Hitsugaya-san," he said. Now was not the time to ponder such things; not when his temporary charge had clearly had an exhausting afternoon and needed to rest.

Hitsugaya bowed. "Goodnight Hisagi-san."

The door clicked shut behind him.

* * *

Their interactions were infrequent and brief for the next few months, yet Shuuhei left each exchange with a proud, delighted smile, secure in the knowledge that he was capable of puzzling Hitsugaya out. As for Hitsugaya, the young shinigami seemed to be settling into the Ninth fairly well – the seated officers soon realised that he was motivated and devoted to learning and improving his skills, though even with the constant praise for his work Hitsugaya still kept to himself and avoided social behaviour as much as possible. Since his introverted mind-set could have been his incentive to work, it was rarely commented upon by his fellow officers. As such Shuuhei tried to ease the boy into interacting with other people, even if only for minutes at a time. He wasn't entirely sure when he had decided to personally insist that Hitsugaya try to make friends, though it was probably around the same time he insured that the kid and Yukimura were placed in the same weekly training class.

Shuuhei had to admit that his… protectiveness scared him a little bit. Izuru and Renji had been the unfortunate two on the receiving end of one of his intoxicated babbles – they had primarily found his 'mother-hen' behaviour hilarious, but by the end of the evening were assisting him with ideas on how to best go about cracking open Hitsugaya's sub-zero fortress. Neurotic genii were actually rather common in the Seireitei; they appeared in all shapes and sizes so the blizzard of insecurity that Shuuhei found himself tackling wasn't the first to grace the Ninth Division.

Shuuhei, himself, could be classed as one of those people.

"That's probably why you want to help him," Renji had said, mumbling around the cool lip of a sake bottle. "Weirdos have gotta stick together you know."

Though crudely spoken, it had been the truth. He was empathetic towards Hitsugaya because he saw himself in the boy. On one hand they were incredibly different – Shuuhei was far more extroverted, a little less motivated (but only because Hitsugaya never seemed to stop working), and had the rather unique problem of fearing his zanpakuto, whereas Hitsugaya was shy, sarcastic (but only in defence), and had the average relationship with his zanpakuto. Not that Shuuhei had actually ever seen the boy's zanpakuto in action – in fact, while it was carried around on Hitsugaya's back twenty-four-seven, Shuuhei couldn't pinpoint a single moment where he had seen the sleek blade in its wielder's small hands.

He didn't realise just how significant this scrap of information was until much later.

As always, it had been a standard patrol in the Rukongai taking a turn for the worse that opened Shuuhei's eyes to reality. The call for back-up had arrived at the abrupt two PM hour; the message contained a lacking amount of content, but as Shuuhei and an adrenalised squad of seated officers tore through the Seireitei streets, he played over what he knew in his mind.

The patrol had been cunningly herded into two separate areas to divide their power, and then forced into battle right in the centre of a market street. The Hollow they were supposed to be hunting had turned the tables, and now the ill-prepared team were struggling to save themselves, the screaming citizens, and the brittle architecture of the district.

It would have been a standard incident (which was unfortunate in itself) had the patrol squad not contained one Tōshirō Hitsugaya. And – upon arrival at the scene – Shuuhei could see why.

It was chaos. Buildings had collapsed or partly caved in under the onslaught, villagers were screaming, hiding, and scampering around like terrified sheep, and the few shinigami who could still find strength in themselves to fight were attempting to simultaneously herd them to safety and keep the approaching Hollow away. And on top of that all, the entire area was buried in a bitter layer of snow, and great protrusions of crimson splattered ice enclosed the street like a forest of a thousand blades thriving from the residue of death. They had no shape but that of a deranged terror and desperation, and they seemed to tear at the sky as if it were but a silk curtain, ripping apart breath and wind with the glacial claw of a beast.

Shuuhei sucked in a frigid gust of air that tore its way down his throat like a scream and thought, gasping his fear into the howling tempest around him –

– _Hyorinmaru_.

He unsheathed his zanpakuto. It vibrated with a vicious excitement and lust for battle, the sheer power choking the air infesting his blood, his blade, his soul. Shuuhei and his squad threw themselves into the fray with the yells of dying men and sliced through the pack of Hollow without mercy, the sight of their wounded comrades urging them on. The ice made fighting tricky, but it wasn't just the shinigami that struggled to keep their footing – the Hollow, too, confined themselves to the safer patches of dirt, and with less places to flee the fight soon turned to the shinigami's favour. Yet their opponents seemed to be endless and the crying pleas of frightened villagers only multiplied in volume as the carnage continued: the Hollow were fortuned with a quick death, the people were left to rot.

"For God's sake!" somebody was yelling, and something in the back of Shuuhei's mind tuned him in to listen even as he dodged under a precarious claw and blasted a Hollow away. "Pull yourself together boy!"

It sounded like the Tenth Seat. Grateful that he was still alive, Shuuhei spun to inspect the cause of the other man's ferocity and promptly regretted it when a burning splatter of Hollow vomit caught him on the thigh. He roared in pain and stumbled, cutting wildly to protect himself from the subsequent attack – a blade he didn't recognise rose in his defence, and the blistered hands of the young Yukimura trembled in her resolution.

"Hisagi-san!" she screeched, batting the Hollow away. To her credit she didn't remove her eyes from her opponent, but the distraction of what she wanted to say cost her insight into the Hollow's intentions and Shuuhei barely managed to launch himself forward in time to prevent her imminent decapitation. The ice punched them with an unforgiving fist and Yukimura groaned; Shuuhei rolled over and destroyed the Hollow with a blazing Shakkaho and almost echoed her in relief.

"Sir!" she continued, scrambling back onto her feet. "Hitsugaya-san –!"

In his daze Shuuhei thought for a second that she was calling _him_ 'Hitsugaya' until the implications of her presence and the frozen chaos fully registered in his mind. He cut her off by grabbing her sweaty palm and shunpoing them towards the remains of a flimsy wooden house – surprisingly she didn't tumble at the abrupt movement, though he couldn't be sure of the significance of her bloodless face and traumatised eyes.

Even at their short distance from the wicked centre of the fight Hitsugaya was easy to spot. Isolated by an explosion of petal-like needles of ice, the boy's deformed and motionless form was like the eye of a blossoming flower. He was curled on one side as if he were sleeping, and Shuuhei's heart shuddered in an inane wish for that to be true. One impressive shunpo propelled him to Hitsugaya's side; the frozen cage seemed to ripple at his approach, like a dragon flexing its muscles and shifting its scales, and wide, haunted teal eyes forced a startled curse from Shuuhei's bloody mouth.

There was naught by terror in Hitsugaya's gaze.

The Fourth Seat dropped to his knees, zanpakuto gripped tight and prepared in one hand; the other reaching for the little officer to check for injuries. Hitsugaya didn't appear to be seriously wounded yet the rigidity of his broken frame caused doubt in the assessment, so Shuuhei laid a palm atop the smaller body – it was shivering almost to the point of convulsion; the fire behind Hitsugaya's eyes was now hardly a flicker of its usual blaze.

It was then that he understood.

Though it was usually hidden well behind a thick layer of sarcasm and cunning intellect, Shuuhei could now see through the glass exterior before him to the root of Hitsugaya's motivation and the core of his distinctly introverted being –

Fear.

It was fear.

And one so primal and unnatural that it was almost a sin against Hitsugaya's very nature; a denial of oneself; a plea for change; a hatred for what made one whole. It was born of the unknown (as most fears were) but had grown and twisted as his zanpakuto had called and reached and screamed for him – Shuuhei swallowed heavily at the thought of Hitsugaya trapped in an inner world of emptiness and longing and danger. The legendary Hyorinmaru brought no comfort or awe to the affection-starved child; instead its rapacious and peremptory nature caused uncertainty and terror.

Shuuhei knew because he felt it himself with every brush of his fingertips against Kazeshini's hilt.

"Oh God," he breathed, lifting his gaze to survey the artic wreckage around them left in the wake of the insuppressible dragon. The battle was nearly over now – the last few Hollow were being chased into the outskirts of the district and shinigami were gathering around to check the wounded. There was little left of the original street except blackened, splintered wood and the dead and dying discarded in the bed of snow. A quick glance revealed Yukimura standing off to the side with a courageous, grim expression turned towards him – she looked undecided, as if she wasn't sure if approaching Hitsugaya would be the safest course of action.

She wasn't the only one.

"Oh God," Shuuhei sighed again, a humourless bubble of laughter threatening to burst out of his throat.

Hitsugaya mumbled something in the dismal tone of apology. His voice cracked as if he were about to cry, but even with the aftermath of the terror of his zanpakuto scattered around the area, there was a determination to his countenance to not express such vulnerability.

_Stupid brave boy_, Shuuhei thought.

He swung down Kazeshini and knocked him out cold.

Hyorinmaru's devastation faded away.

* * *

After spending two days slumbering off his reiatsu exhaustion, Hitsugaya woke in one of the non-emergency communal rooms of the Fourth Division looking the picture of a windswept robin with a tremendous hangover. Though busy at the time he was informed of this development, the late-lunch house freed up an opportunity for Shuuhei to visit the officer during his recovery, and thus the Fourth Seat hastened to complete his paperwork to take advantage of the ample period. Now that he was aware of what subconscious instinct encouraged him to empathise with Hitsugaya, he felt more determined than ever to reach out to the childlike officer. He held no illusion that it was going to be easy, but having made the decision months prior not to back down from this particular challenge he knew there was nothing for it but to give it his best stab.

Figuratively.

Though perhaps not for long.

Much to Shuuhei's surprise when he navigated through the labyrinth corridors of the Fourth Division, there was already somebody pacing outside of the room Hitsugaya was housed in. Holding herself far better than the last he had seen of her (the bruises on her thigh had probably had something to do with that), Tomomi Yukimura was now rid of the bloodied, daunted expression from the battlefield and seemed more like her sunny self. Asauchi strapped to her side and all appearances of a weary warrior washed and tidied away, the girl startled at his quiet approach and blushed to the tips of her auburn hair. Shuuhei smiled at her, hoping that her diligent presence implied that a friendship with Hitsugaya was still desirable from her point of view. It was good for Hitsugaya to have a friend after all.

They bowed to one another in greeting.

"I've come to see Hitsugaya-san," Shuuhei began, though that much was surely obvious from his presence. "Is he not available?"

"Ah – um – he has a visitor at the moment," replied Yukimura, casting her anxious gaze towards the closed door. "I didn't want to disturb them so I thought I'd wait out here until they were finished."

"Surely they would not mind if you joined them?" he asked, reaching out with his reiatsu to see if he could identify who Hitsugaya's guest was. It was unlikely he would have any luck (especially since his detection skills weren't amazing) but he was curious; the boy wasn't the type to make a lot of friends after all (letting both he and Yukimura in had been challenging enough).

Upon successfully realising who was in the room, Shuuhei snapped back his reiatsu immediately. Yukimura giggled guiltily and picked at her pristine sleeve.

If his senses were to be believed then Lieutenant Matsumoto of the Tenth Division was apparently chatting with an unseated officer of the Ninth lying in his sick-bed!

His stark disbelief must have been evident in his expression for Yukimura echoed his confusion with a small smile. "I don't know if they know each other that well really – I've never seen them interact – but the lieutenant laughed when Hitsugaya-san grumbled about her visit so I can only assume there's some familiarity between them."

She paused there, glancing side to side, and then added in a distinctly feminine coo; "It's sweet, don't you think?"

Not wanting to accidentally slander the lieutenant's reputation through admitting his concern, Shuuhei simply shrugged. This was just as well, really, because the door they were waiting beside opened then and the strawberry haired woman strode out, laughing freely at whatever had conversed between her and Hitsugaya. The two Ninth Division shinigami bowed instantly; Matsumoto returned a shallower bow and then stepped to the side to reveal the doorway.

"You must be Yukimura-san and Hisagi-san!" she greeted, grinning wildly. "It's nice to meet you."

Shuuhei would swear to his deathbed that he heard a mumbled 'Christ' from inside the room at those words. Unable to dwell on that for the moment, however, he confirmed the lieutenant's observation. "It's nice to meet you too, Lieutenant. Sorry if we bothered you."

"Oh no," she replied, waving his off with a sing-song chime. "You've done nothing of the sort. I was just saying 'hello' to my favourite little genius – sorry if I kept you waiting long."

Her interest in Hitsugaya was odd, thought Shuuhei, yet he was unable to fault the delighted friendliness in her eyes. She appeared to be sincere – though whether or not that was true didn't change the fact that a friendship between a lieutenant and a lowly officer of a different division was very unusual indeed. Shuuhei supposed all he could do was ask Hitsugaya for the context – he certainly didn't dare pry into a lieutenant's business after all.

They parted ways soon after. The Fourth Seat allowed Yukimura to speak to Hitsugaya first – he would have probably followed her in had the conversation he planned to have with the boy not been of a sensitive and personal topic. He may not seem to be as close to the officer as the lieutenant, but he was certain in his knowledge that Hitsugaya wouldn't want the nature of his relationship with his zanpakuto to be reduced to common gossip among the Ninth. With nothing to do but twiddle his thumbs, Shuuhei was glad when Yukimura spent no more than ten minutes reassuring her friend that she was a 'bit spooked' but 'that was okay' and that she'd really 'like to be able to help' in any way she could.

Not that Shuuhei had been eavesdropping.

Not at all.

(Captain Unohana had passed during those painful ten minutes and raised a terrifying eyebrow at his position plastered against the door. He had promptly blushed to the tips of his toes and spluttered out a feeble defence – she had simply smiled at him in the way that forced even the toughest shinigami to fall to their knees for forgiveness and then continued on with her round.

Shuuhei had only just managed not to quiver on the floor in fear like many men had been reduced to before – Hitsugaya needs my help, he had pleaded to himself under the vicious scrutiny, so don't back down now you coward.

He wondered retrospectively if the captain had been able to read his thoughts and if that was why she had slipped away with something akin to approval on her perfectly innocent face).

There was just one other patient in the room when Shuuhei tiptoed in – an older man, not of the Ninth, who was snoring away by the window. Politely ignoring the slumbering shinigami, the Fourth Seat settled down into the somewhat warm chair Yukimura had vacated by Hitsugaya's bedside, forgoing the requirement for a bow when the other clearly wouldn't be able to return one from his propped up position against the pillows. Despite that – or perhaps, because of that – Hitsugaya inclined his outrageous mop of hair in what could be interpreted as a bow, though the action could have also simply been the boy ducking his head to avert his gaze.

"Hey, come on," Shuuhei prompted lightly. He had a feeling he knew what was going through Hitsugaya's extravagant brain. "It's rude not to look at someone when they're talking to you – I'm not here to hull you off to the captain."

A flicker of surprise passed across Hitsugaya's pale complexion. "Then how can I help you, Hisagi-san?"

"It's more than I want to help you actually," he explained, deciding to get right down to business to defeat the dilemma rooted into Hitsugaya's very bones. ('Dilemma' was undermining the nature of the counterproductive relationship between Hitsugaya and his zanpakuto, however). "I've noticed that you're… not on particularly good terms with your zanpakuto."

There was a dangerous twitch to the young officer's reiatsu at that, and the change in the boy's demeanour was so instantaneous and indisputable that Shuuhei caught each fleeting, raw emotion as it twisted Hitsugaya's unfledged face, and heard – rather than saw – his posture stiffen into his fortified garrison of diamond skin and unbreakable frozen bones. If there had been any doubt of the dragon dwelling in the core of Hitsugaya's soul before that point, the vehement flash of blood behind the startled teal eyes was evidence enough.

Shuuhei felt momentarily alarmed beyond any imaginable measure of his fear.

(No wonder the kid was terrified).

"What of it?" Hitsugaya snapped back defensively. "What's wrong with that?"

The agony in his voice would have been unbelievable to comprehend had he been talking to anybody but Shuuhei.

"Everything," said the Fourth Seat, stressing the word kindly to convey his heartache. "Everything's wrong with that. Tell me – what is a zanpakuto?"

Hitsugaya's lips parted soundlessly; his brows furrowed. "A zanpakuto is the primary weapon of the shinigami and is the sentient reflection of its wielder's soul," he said a-matter-of-factly, bemused about why he was being asked to recite such basic knowledge.

_Fair enough_, thought Shuuhei, _but not enough_. "Yes, right, that's the textbook answer. What is a zanpakuto?"

A moment passed in which Shuuhei doubted that Hitsugaya would feel any need to expand on his fundamental answer, but then the injured shinigami seemed to deflate in defeat; the exhausted bruises under his eyes darkened as he sighed. "…It's a physical representation of one's convictions, aspirations, and potential. It is an embodiment of a… partnership… and is unique to each individual to the point where they share no name, philosophy, or personality with another zanpakuto."

"Go on," Shuuhei encouraged.

Hitsugaya huffed. "They are one's motivation and guide; friend; and self. They are the bestest friend you could ever ask for and we both know that Hyorinmaru and I aren't normal so why are you asking me this Hisagi-san?"

That was apparently as much as he was currently going to get out of the boy, but luckily it was plentiful to work with for the moment. Hitsugaya's perspicacity was understandable; erroneous, however, and in a desperate need of adjusting – Shuuhei supposed it was just as well he knew where to start, since nobody else seemed to have skills perceptive enough to notice. No, he couldn't say that. There was an abundance of shinigami who could perceive – and may already have – the anomaly within the unseated officer; selective ignorance, perhaps, would be a more agreeable reason for why Hitsugaya had been struggling against the epitome of himself for so long. That, or the boy was a greater master of concealing his true temperament than Shuuhei had originally believed.

This wouldn't be that surprising, especially given the unnatural nature of what he was desperately attempting to veil. Not knowing your zanpakuto's name was one thing, but fearing it; consciously deciding not to use or communicate with it? An abomination!

"As I said, I want to help you." Shuuhei pulled his zanpakuto out of the belt at his side and settled the blade across his lap, running his fingers down the dark sheath. Kazeshini's spirit stirred – but lacking his usual curiosity, restrained from making any particularly scathing jocular comments. Despite the uncharacteristic empathy of the spirit, Hitsugaya still warily eyed the zanpakuto in the same fashion that Shuuhei imagined one would regard a decaying rat. If the social expectations of how to interact with another's zanpakuto were not a constant presence of a shinigami's daily routine, Shuuhei would have been profoundly offended at the stare. As it was, the barefaced discomfort was merely one of the small stepping stones they would undoubtedly face in the upcoming months, so Shuuhei didn't wait for the other to collect himself and unnecessarily apologise before continuing on.

"This is Kazeshini. He's a rowdy, violent oddball who likes to laugh at me when I fail, and for a long, long time I feared even touching the hilt of his blade."

He was stretching the truth slightly but who was to know? It didn't matter either way when the words had the desired effect on Hitsugaya; astonishment, primarily, and a hint of uncertainty at being privy to such information, but then a cold, heart-felt realisation at the implications, and a grave tilt to his cracked and bitten lips. It was exactly what Shuuhei had hoped for; an initiation of understanding; a note written in a loopy, hopeful hand across Hitsugaya's beliefs that said 'hey we're not that different,' so he simply waited for Hitsugaya to collect his thoughts and piece them methodically together to form the sophisticated manners his language reflected, and say –

"You… know?"

…Well. The kid couldn't be a genius all of the time. Smiling, Shuuhei resisted the urge to tease, the lost daze to the boy's oceanic eyes making his gut twist painfully. He had never felt so protective before. It was exhilarating, but scary. The lengths at which he would go to help Hitsugaya was an undiscovered sky at the very edge of the ever-expanding universe – perhaps he would never find out; perhaps the journey would kill him.

Acquaintances for not even a year and Shuuhei had a suspicion that he would already die for the boy.

Empathy was a wickedly wonderful thing.

"How did you… get over it?" Hitsugaya asked, continuing in a meek yet steady voice. The animalistic slant to his posture was slumbering now, one tenth of its previous threat, and instead the gentle core of his personality was on display; Hitsugaya was nothing if not selfless, kind, and loving – he just had nobody to share it with.

"I didn't. Not really anyway," Shuuhei admitted honestly, shrugging. He thought about saying more, explaining what he meant, but the other startled at a yawn of his still recovering body, and he decided it wasn't time. "Come find me when you're discharged and I'll help you to cope," he added, before Hitsugaya's faith vanished completely. He patted the boy on the knee – a friendly gesture – and was rewarded with a twitch and an automatic huff of indignation.

"Yes sir."

Shuuhei had to clarify; "That was a request, not an order."

Something young and mischievous twinkled in Hitsugaya's bright, sleepy eyes. One of the many icy barriers between them had been slowly whittled away while they spoke, the Fourth Seat realised then, but it had fallen silently instead of the deafening reluctance that he had expected and he hadn't even noticed.

"Yes, Hisagi-senpai. I'll be there."

_I should call him 'Hitsugaya-bouzu'_, Shuuhei thought playfully, tempted by the instantaneous idea.

Yet he didn't.

He had a feeling Hitsugaya was being sincere after all.

_Oh_ – how Shuuhei's friends would laugh at him now.

* * *

**End Notes**: Multiple chapters was not my intention (it never is). I only imagine there will be one - mayyyybe two - more chapters. I'm going to try and keep this short.

- san = general politeness; same social class  
- senpai/sempai - mentor/senior/upper classman (both versions are strictly correct - I just prefer the former)  
- bouzu = below kun; affectionate 'twerp'/'squirt'


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes**: Only a short chapter. I have lots of rubbish going on in my life right now, so I thought it best to give you all this for the time being.

**Review reply **for the guest reviewer** ReginaDC21**: Oh thank you! How great it is to hear that I'm not the only one who was struck with that idea – I think Shuuhei has the potential to be a very good 'big brother' figure. He's a good mix of responsible and fun-loving. I do not think I will be developing this story as far as the beginning of the manga – I'm keeping this story short, and I really just want to explore how Shuuhei helps with Hyorinmaru, so beyond that is unlikely to be written. Sorry!

* * *

**Chapter 2**

* * *

"Hisagi-san," droned the ageing Fifth Seat a matter of days later, wiggling a calligraphy brush between his fingers as if to distract the working Fourth Seat from the faintly amused, yet stern, expression on his perceptive grey face. "Hitsugaya-kouhai is looking for you."

Shuuhei frowned over the top of the stack of books he was carrying as he shuffled around a low coffee table. "You shouldn't call him that," he reprimanded, taking a moment to pause in his labour to welcome his comrade with a sigh of disapproval. "He's done nought but warrant respect from this division."

The Fifth Seat shrugged, unconcerned with his superior officer's tattle. "He's still looking for you; I sent him via the west wing to stall for time – if he's half as bright as you seem to think he is then he'll no doubt realise soon enough."

Why the man had felt it necessary to 'stall for him' as he had so elegantly phrased it was beyond Shuuhei's comprehension – they didn't often see eye-to-eye, but he couldn't fathom one reason to explain the strange and slightly cruel behaviour from the Fifth Seat. A warning about Hitsugaya's approaching presence was laughable – especially since Shuuhei had requested their meeting – but he held back in sharing his disbelieving exasperation in favour of finding a home on the bookcase for the tomes in his hands. Prior to the Fifth's Seat's somewhat unexplainable interruption, Shuuhei had been researching through the Ninth Division's disappointingly meagre collection of texts about zanpakuto throughout history. Belatedly he realised that venturing to the Seireitei library would have been a more productive use of his time – he had hoped not to need to, but he supposed that had been a naïve interpretation of his fortune. He would simply had to make the time to continue his research after he managed to charm his way through another one of Hitsugaya's many filters.

"Can I help you with anything then?" Shuuhei asked through gritted teeth, hardly glancing away from his tedious organisation.

The Fifth Seat's expression was that of a doubtful incredulity that raised a dark eyebrow in silent reply.

"You're going to have to elaborate," Shuuhei added. He subtly hid a frustrated eye roll behind the next book in the pile.

"I'm just… curious about the nature of your relationship with Hitsugaya –"

The Fourth Seat opened his mouth to hurriedly explain that he wasn't instigating anything inappropriate with Hitsugaya when the other continued without pause, his train of thought marginally perpendicular to the reprimand that Shuuhei had anticipated.

"– He's not the sort of person I expected you to associate with; forgive me, I understand this isn't really my place but I assumed better of –"

"Hitsugaya-san is a hard-working and inspiring individual, no matter what any rumours say in regard to his person, and you should keep comments like that to those who sympathise with your opinion instead of sharing them in an environment where somebody may take offence."

The Fifth Seat blinked dumbly at Shuuhei's interrupting defence. "I –"

Shuuhei waved a particularly gruesome tome of Soul Society history at the mortified man. "For all you know, Hitsugaya-san could be privy to this conversation as he patiently stands outside this office waiting for you to stop slandering his name –"

"He is most certainly not!" spluttered the Fifth Seat, puffing up his chest a fraction at the accusation like an alpha male demanding obedience from his beta.

"Then go check if you're so certain, and I will apologise for doubting your skills if I'm mistaken," said Shuuhei, smacking his lips together harshly as the man glowered at the order and stormed around to wrench the door open –

"Sir," greeted Hitsugaya.

If Shuuhei had been a more heartless person he would have gestured a thumbs up to Hitsugaya's perfect timing and doubled over laughing behind the Fifth Seat's back. As it was he simply sniggered quietly behind a hand, pretending unavailingly to be the epitome of a considerate colleague when Hitsugaya requested entrance from the blubbering Fifth Seat, his trained politeness of a political endeavour making the older man startle violently and slam the door.

The mumbled 'well that's not very nice' could have been Shuuhei's imagination, but from what he had concluded of Hitsugaya's attitude he highly doubted it. Sighing (though he desperately wanted to laugh), he turned his most ferociously disappointed expression towards the Fifth Seat and grabbed another textbook – this one covering the wide range of weapons zanpakuto had morphed into overtime in their shikai – just in case a physical incentive was necessary.

The Fifth Seat glanced his way for a fraction of a second before wisely deciding to flee the scene.

Hitsugaya ducked out of the man's way, watching his retreating footfalls down the hallway, and then stepped into the room to fill the vacant position that had been left. Smaller than the Fifth Seat in nothing but size, he swiftly found his place in the centre of the room. He stood tall and fearless – though he wasn't without fear – and every inch of the office seemed to freeze in time, breath held, to admire the cool serenity of Hitsugaya's demeanour.

Something had changed in the boy since their last interaction, that much was painfully clear to Shuuhei. Strength rather than subservience was his default now; there was a glint to his teal eyes, like the intrinsic beauty of a stained glass window – shatterproof, if only because of its magnificence. Shuuhei spared a thought in hope that it wasn't an impenetrable façade – there was always the possibility with someone as methodical and reserved as Hitsugaya – but as he finished organising the texts while the other waited patiently for instructions, a welcome doubt whispered in the back of his mind.

There was still work to be done – so much – but it appeared Hitsugaya had taken the time to really consider their last conversation. He was visibly prepared now, ready to attempt whatever Shuuhei threw at him, and the Fourth Seat patted himself mentally on the back.

He might actually be able to do this.

Hitsugaya might actually be able to do this.

"Alright," said Shuuhei, once he had finished his work. There were no other pressing matters for him to attend to now – he actually had the whole afternoon off, till night shift on the front gate at dinner. "We're going to have to find somewhere quiet for this – most of the training grounds here are in use during the day. I was thinking of the kido target range in the Eleventh – it's only ever using once in a blue moon anyway – unless you have any better suggestions?"

Hitsugaya hesitated for a moment, a somewhat pained expression upon his face, as if there was an idea clinging onto the tip of his tongue and it was kicking wildly at his teeth and gums, demanding for release. But he shook his head, denied the question, and Shuuhei didn't pry.

"Eleventh Division it is then," he said. He bid Hitsugaya to follow with a wave. "Come on, let's get this mess sorted."

* * *

As predicted, the kido target range was deserted when they arrived. The broken, abandoned state it was in also suggested that it had been deserted for quite some time before their arrival, which was unexpected but not altogether uncharacteristic of the Eleventh. The rotted, splintered doorway opened silently, holding its breath in hope. The dust-churned gravel cheered in glee and danced around their feet as they shuffled in, wary of the dangers of such a place. Even out of use it was still of the Eleventh, and there was no telling what sorts of monsters would be hiding in the shadows. Shuuhei led them to the safest looking area, stepping carefully and questioning his choice of locations. If Hitsugaya held the same concerns about their endeavour then he politely kept them quiet and willing put himself at the mercy of the Eleventh's crumbling architecture.

They sat in the stones and the dirt. There were worse places to train; there were better ones. Sometimes you just had to take what life gave you and adapt to it.

Shuuhei hoped to teach Hitsugaya just that.

"So," he began, contemplating the best way to go about his task. "How long have you known shikai?"

Hitsugaya glanced down at the unusually slender zanpakuto across his knees (his hands were in his lap, mindful not to touch the blade). "Maybe close to a year."

Not long before he had joined the Ninth then. So their relationship was new as well as broken, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Forming ties would be easier than mending snapped and betrayed ones (though that might just be Shuuhei's positive outlook talking utter nonsense). Unless, of course, Hitsugaya's relationship with his zanpakuto was far more complicated than customary, and given the nature of both the shinigami and the violent spirit, it wouldn't astound Shuuhei to find that such was true.

"When did you start hearing him calling you?" he asked. Most shinigami didn't hear their zanpakuto until graduating. In fact, the majority of officers never heard the unique perfection of their zanpakuto during their lifetime. That Hitsugaya had already connected with the other side of his soul was an uncommon occurrence. It was a gift and Shuuhei wasn't going to see it crumble away before it could be rightly treasured.

Hitsugaya shrugged, as if he had no idea. "Before I entered the Academy," he replied briefly, a melancholy lament to his tone. A man of little words, he was. Shuuhei prompted him to elaborate; they wouldn't progress far if all the conversations they shared were disastrously one sided.

"I started having dreams after Momo left to become a shinigami, but I didn't think anything of them at the time I guess. I thought they were just nightmares."

The curt response was enough to reveal the crux of the problem. Though Shuuhei had no inkling on who 'Momo' was (something which he may endeavour to rectify if he or she became a prominent figure in Hitsugaya's past), that the first contact between boy and zanpakuto had carried the connotation of a 'nightmare' implied that Hyorinmaru's chosen method of reaching for his other half left much to be desired. Instead of solidifying a fleeting fragment of a bond by encouraging and soothing the young soul, the mighty dragon had clearly presented himself in such a ferocious manner that he had frightened Hitsugaya and him discouraged from initiating further interaction, rather than excited and intrigued.

Kazeshini had been similar, though Shuuhei hadn't truly felt uncomfortable with his zanpakuto until he attained shikai. It had been the crude release command and resulting scythe that had veritably made him reconsider the deepest depths of his personality.

"And that encouraged you to apply for the Shino Academy?" he asked. It would be a standard series of events if it were true. Many of those who had heard their zanpakuto during their time in the Rukongai spoke of a longing presence in their dreams that led them to the gates of the Seireitei.

Hitsugaya frowned, challenging the assumed normality. "That – among other things," he stated, but with no admittance for what those precise influences actually were willingly dropping from his lips, Shuuhei figured that would be a story for another time.

So, in summary; Hitsugaya and his zanpakuto needed to communicate ASAP. Yet that was unlikely to happen until the officer felt he was capable of actually touching the hilt of his blade, instead of the contradictory yearning movement he was currently displaying with his sweaty palms hovering restlessly over the metal. His self-esteem and feelings of control needed to be improved – the former, challenging; the latter, a psychological nightmare. There were a couple of methods that Shuuhei could use; a gentle, systematic ease like a cautious descent into a hot tub, or a sudden, dynamic flood of scathing water – supremely effective, but ghastly unethical. It also carried the slight chance of amplifying the individual's apprehension, but as long as Hitsugaya consented to going through with it, Shuuhei figured there was no reason it wouldn't work. Yet… he wasn't cruel enough to put Hitsugaya in that situation. It would be likely that any trust between them would rapidly unravel under the distress of the procedure. Furthermore, even if it was successful and Hitsugaya's fear of his zanpakuto was overcome, Shuuhei was not the person to make the call if it would be worth it.

Slow and steady it was then.

"Alright then," he said aloud, wondering how confident he came across when Hitsugaya's back straightened. "I think trust is the biggest issue here. Your zanpakuto is your other half, and if you aren't confident that they will protect and guide you, then how can you hope to bond with them? The simplest thing you can do is meditate – you probably already know, but slipping into your inner world and reaching for your zanpakuto is the easiest way of building up a relationship with them. Your zanpakuto is already the most compatible being to you that you will ever meet, so the only things you need to work on are trust and meeting each other's needs. And because meditation clearly isn't working for you (otherwise we wouldn't be sitting here) then before you can do that we need to get you to understand that Hyorinmaru is approachable. He's… on your side, so to speak. I'm pretty sure he wants to talk to you too."

Hitsugaya remained firmly resolute, but he seemed desperate to hide his wavering hands. Shuuhei wasn't sure if that was a positive sign or not, but either way the action would hopefully be extinguished if his plan actually working. He felt it uncomfortable that there was little he could do personally to assist Hitsugaya, but zanpakuto bonds were extremely private and building one was solely Hitsugaya's job. It wasn't only his _responsibility_ however. Shuuhei had already thrown the die; he was going to help through thick and thin. Hitsugaya – and Hyorinmaru – deserved nothing less.

"So what do I do now?" asked the younger officer uncertainly. "Meditate?"

He appeared wholly reluctant at the idea. Shuuhei supposed it was just as well he had something else in mind. "Nope – get up, I want to spar with you today and I want you to observe."

Already climbing to his feet, Hitsugaya's brows furrowed at the lacking explanation. "Observe what?" he asked. He scanned Shuuhei's posture and determined facial expression for any clues.

Drawing his zanpakuto from his sheath, the Fourth Seat laughed. "If I told you, that wouldn't be very objective, would it?"

Hitsugaya mirrored the action with haste, his tiny hands barely fitting around the diameter of Hyorinmaru's stunning hilt. He scowled openly with a disgruntled expression of annoyance. "The bond between a shinigami and their zanpakuto is a subjective process," he argued.

Shuuhei cheered inwardly at the bite to Hitsugaya's words but wasn't about to back down. "Fighting isn't!" he replied. "Now – zanjutsu, hakuda, and hoho only. No kido or shikai permitted. Okay?"

Hitsugaya nodded.

They bowed.

* * *

Quite miraculously, the male divide of the more reputable of the shinigami onsens was unoccupied that afternoon. It truly was such a sight to behold that Shuuhei almost dared not disturb the beckoning rolls of steam and tranquil silence of the invisible barbarians that usually inhabited the volcanic haven. Padding across the cool ground with water-logged footsteps and an equally drowned officer swaying along behind, the Fourth Seat prayed for a mere hour of the exceptional hush and sank into the water. Seemingly two dozen smaller steps behind was Hitsugaya, hair flattened to his scalp in a symmetrical emphasis of his customary frown and low, exhausted eyes glaring at the water with a sore expression of loathing desire. The part of Shuuhei that felt a little bad (and it was most of him) beckoned the boy into the onsen to relax. The other part wanted desperately to laugh, for Hitsugaya slithered into the pool like a melting snowman and merged into the ripples of the water.

They had sparred for hours. Shuuhei had been impressed with Hitsugaya's thorough display of skills and determination, but it was still ultimately the unseated officer who eventually couldn't stabilise his feet beneath him. The spar hadn't been about who could last the longest, however – no, Shuuhei had wanted to see if Hitsugaya could perceive the difference between them; how they held themselves, how they interacted with their zanpakuto. Partly Hitsugaya's faults – though that was a strong word for them; the kid was a prodigy and he was very, very good – were due to his age and lack of experience. But there _had_ been problems that those factors wouldn't have caused. Hitsugaya seemed to alternate between gripping his zanpakuto too tightly and too loosely – an unconscious refection of his incertitude – whereas Shuuhei wielding Kazeshini as if it were his arm. Effectively, precisely, and without hesitation. He still did not like to use his zanpakuto or harm others with it, but when it was in his hands his movements were instinctual; sloppy, contradicting zanjutsu would get him killed. Shuuhei hoped Hitsugaya had picked up on the subtle, yet enormous, issue. Given the boy's wretched expression as he glared at something under the water, Shuuhei imagined the spar had been successful in that aspect.

Inhaling the sultry air with a deep, slow sigh, the Fourth Seat sank against the pebbled wall and closed his eyes. He allowed himself to enjoy the soak for just a few, well-earned minutes. A short distance away Hitsugaya stirred, the water flopping and rippling around him, but either in his unwillingness to disturb the peace or an uncertainty in what to say, he didn't speak. A hush enveloped them, enticing them to talk, and Shuuhei almost drifted off into a light slumber at their reluctance to obey. He laughed as he jolted himself back into awareness (the night shift wasn't far off now) and the dominating sound echoed around the enclosed space; Hitsugaya brushed some of his hair away from his ears, waiting patiently for something to be said.

"You did well today," Shuuhei began earnestly, though the kid didn't smile at the praise. Hitsugaya didn't often smile at anything, but he had to have limits. "You're definitely one of the most skilful recruits that's ever joined the Ninth."

"Thank you," Hitsugaya said simply, downtrodden and exemplifying the opposite of the esteemed observation.

Shuuhei quirked an eyebrow. "What's on your mind?"

Hitsugaya said nothing. Wondering if he'd picked up on false cues, Shuuhei gave no further prompting and slid deeper into the water. If the officer wanted to talk then he could talk – there was nothing stopping him except his own self-esteem and cognitive barricades. Shuuhei had an idea of how to deal with improving Hitsugaya's views of himself, but whether or not both parties would be willing to cooperate on top of the method's questionable effectiveness was another matter altogether. He would have just jump that hurdle when he came to it.

Or not jump it at all. Eleventh Division officers were little if not stubborn bastards.

The door to the onsen opened then, and Shuuhei almost huffed at the evident disturbance to their peace. There was only the hasty pitter-patter of one set of footsteps, however, so he considered himself fortunate and refrained from glaring through the thickening breaths of the water at the haze of tattoos partly hidden behind a mane of scarlet hair –

"Yo Shuuhei!"

_Oh god._

Renji flopped into the pool, cackling at something across the room. "Come on moron!" he called, tugging his ponytail higher up his scalp. He beckoned somebody else into the room and Shuuhei didn't even have to look to know who it was.

"Piss off!" Ikkaku Madarame roared in the distance, no doubt clutching a towel in one hand and his zanpakuto in the other as was customary.

Renji's howl of laughter erupted into a shout of fear as the bald Eleventh Division member barrelled through the wooden doors and plummeted into the onsen, grappling his red haired friend and wrestling him under the surface. Shuuhei flattened himself against the parallel edge, expression set firmly into indignation at the sight, questioning how he had come to be friends with such a pair of apes. Said apes continued to punch and kick their opponent into submission, shouting profanities and curses at each other. It was an innate Eleventh Division way – there was no doubt – so the Ninth Division Fourth Seat felt no qualms about leaving them to it (except for the psychological well-being of the staff, perhaps). He held no illusion that the rowdy duo would stop before exhaustion anyway.

"You are such a fucking arsehole," hissed Renji, attempting to shove himself out of the headlock Ikkaku held him in. "Get off me."

The bald man laughed manically. "Giving up already are we? Always knew you were a –"

Renji burst free from the hold and dragged them both back under with an aggressive vengeance. Limbs, shrieks, and scaling hot water exploded outwards in a dance of a drowning cat, and Shuuhei sighed at the immaturity, willing himself to tune his friends out. There were better things he could be spending his time doing than experiencing second-hand embarrassment from the two nut-jobs he frequently hung out with. Relaxing, for one. Retrieving his sanity, for another.

It wasn't until he plastered a hand across the burning skin of his face that he registered the creeping chill to the water. It was subtle enough that he distrusted the receptors in his skin for a moment, his brain questioning the logic behind a cooling pool of steaming water, but even as he dipped his fingers back under the surface the temperature continued to fall. The haze of warmth blurring his vision started to lift in clarity, but just mere feet away Ikkaku and Renji didn't appear to notice the change to the water. Shuuhei frowned, perplexed, and then something cracked and groaned like ice reaching its deathly claws across the naivety of a captive lake.

He glanced sideways, pushing a hand through the slushy, frigid water to clasp the corpse-like white of Hitsugaya's frozen arm. A sheet of translucent ice was stretching out around the young recruit, so delicate that it appeared to float upon the water's surface, but there was no mistaking the veins of reiryoku spiralling through it. Shuuhei called the boy's name firmly, pressing his sweltering hand into the hoarfrost of Hitsugaya's skin and burning his gaze into the wintry blue of the cold, vacant eyes. Hitsugaya didn't respond to his superior officer's voice, but the two Eleventh Division officers froze in their squabble and lifted equally curious eyes to the storming prodigy brewing a blizzard above the onsen.

Hitsugaya's glare was dragon-worthy.

"_Pack it in_," commanded the ice wielder.

Even the menacing snapping of the frost couldn't conceal the yelps from the lips of the two fully grown men still violently tangled together. Shuuhei couldn't discern whose was more pathetic over the roaring of his own laughter. If he had to hazard a guess it would have been Renji's as the man was currently eyeing the branches of ice with an expression of someone who had been victim to its relentless talons before. On the other hand Ikkaku seemed quite impressed, though the Fourth Seat hardly gave his friend a second-glance as the bitter tension began to sooth its way out of Hitsugaya's glacial limbs.

Hitsugaya melted into the onsen, visibly startled at his own behaviour, and allowed the thriving fires of his cheeks to warm the water. Shuuhei relaxed his wary grip and hovered, trying his best to ignore the reflection of his shock plastered across the faces of his friends.

"Err," Renji began, disentangling himself from Ikkaku. He patted the equally calmed bald man on the shoulder for good measure, shifting cautiously to avoid the receding ice. "Who's your friend Shuuhei?"

Noting that Hitsugaya wasn't going to introduce himself in favour of devolving into a single-celled water-dwelling organism, the Fourth Seat coughed pointedly. "This is Tōshirō Hitsugaya. Hitsugaya-san, this is Renji Abarai and Ikkaku Madarame of the Eleventh Division."

No pleasantries were exchanged between them. The fact that nobody suffered frostbite was enough to forgo such necessity.

"Got yourself a firecracker there," Ikkaku praised, laughing.

'Fire' was not a word that Shuuhei would think to associate with Hitsugaya, but he could appreciate the reasoning behind it. There was something frighteningly scathing about the boy's blazing temper, though having never seen the embers scorch out of their arctic fort before, Shuuhei was overwhelmed by the brief display. Hitsugaya was humble and quiet as he worked around the Ninth Division, but Shuuhei was delighted to have witnessed the inner strength that he had _known_ the younger officer to possess. That one who resided a dragon spirit would be without power was unimaginable. Though Hitsugaya preserved his under lock and key, that he was capable and willing to use it was one step towards achieving balance with his zanpakuto. If Shuuhei could draw out the core of Hitsugaya's personality, then Hyorinmaru's nature would be revealed.

Possibly. Hopefully. If Hitsugaya actually agreed to go through with the next stage of his plan.

"Oooh," said Renji, the significance of the name having finally registered in his mind. "_This_ is the squirt you've been fussing over."

"I do not _fuss_ –"

"Yo kiddo," the redhead continued, cutting across Shuuhei's irate cry of outrage. "How's the Ninth treating ya? The Seireitei's built of the foundations of a load of pompous assholes if you ask me, but it's got its merits I suppose."

"Lots of people to fight," Ikkaku supplied, showing all of his teeth as he grinned.

"Free food," Renji added.

"A bed," said Ikkaku.

"A pleasant haven to have a bath in peace and quiet?" Shuuhei asked, rolling his eyes. His friends were silent for a moment, a meaningful look passing between them, before both men erupted into laughter at the wistfulness of the comment. The raven haired man sighed, but he was smiling. "Yeah, somehow I didn't think so."

Hitsugaya watched the exchange without a sound, his firm-set mouth hidden under the ripples of their amusement, but his eyes were alert and contemplating something Shuuhei could only fathom. The boy did not speak for the next half an hour as they relaxed in the onsen, though his fiery outburst made up for his inability to hold one end of a conversation. The three friends were talkative enough by themselves, even if the two Eleventh Division officers were notably more subdued than when they arrived.

_Maybe I should bring Hitsugaya with me more often_, Shuuhei mused. In the corner of his eye Hitsugaya pulled a towel off of his head and sighed exasperatedly at the half-flattened bird nest of snow atop his head. Shuuhei had to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing.

The punch Ikkaku planted into his shoulder came as no surprise. "Heya," said the man, and behind him a hairband pinged out of Renji's hands and flew across the room. "Catch you later, yeah? I've roped Yumichika into sparring on Thursday so you have to come along."

As the statement didn't expect a reply, Shuuhei had to cough to have his say when Ikkaku turned away. "Actually," he said, hoping his plan was going to work. "Can you pass on a message to Yumichika for me?"

Ikkaku shrugged nonchalantly.

When the two Ninth Division officers arrived back at the division, Hitsugaya hardly glanced at the mounds of food in the canteen before declaring that he would rather be sleeping. Shuuhei couldn't blame him, but with the night watch ever nearing he grabbed a coffee to keep himself going as they prepared to part.

After their standard farewell, Hitsugaya seemed to hesitate. Shuuhei sipped at his coffee lazily, as if it were lulling him to sleep rather than electrocuting his brain into gear.

"Hisagi-senpai," asked Hitsugaya, lifting his gaze and posture. "Who's Yumichika-san?"

Shuuhei almost snorted the drink up his nose, which clearly wasn't a promising sign as Hitsugaya's expression tightened. "Ah – sorry. Never mind," the young officer muttered, watching the Fourth Seat hack unattractively.

"No, no, it's okay," Shuuhei assured, scowling at his coffee. Hitsugaya was far more observant than people gave him credit for. "Yumichika's another Eleventh Division officer. I've – er – asked him to help with your training so if it all goes to plan you'll meet him soon enough."

He smiled. Hitsugaya's stare remained hard and steady.

"Er," Shuuhei added uselessly, floundering like a child in the face of his mother's scolding. "You'll like him?"

Hitsugaya seemed appeased with that, and bowed. Shuuhei returned the farewell and held back a sigh under the recruit had disappeared into the waves of yawning shinigami.

The kid was terrifying sometimes.

So was Yumichika.

Shuuhei needed to engrave the scene before him into his memory forever.

"I see what you mean," hummed Yumichika the next day, sweeping a calculating gaze across the helpless form of the wintry unseated officer. Hitsugaya was scowling like an animal trapped in a corner, which wasn't a terrible analogy considering the predacious gleam to Yumichika's eyes.

They were out in the sunshine of the Ninth Division public gardens. Shuuhei was the only one who seemed like he was enjoying it.

"This is going to be a bit of a handful, isn't it?" said the Eleventh Division officer. He tapped his jaw thoughtfully and cocked his head, continuing to hum. Shuuhei's grin was uncontrollable and it deepened Hitsugaya's frown.

"Um," said Hitsugaya in reply to the rhetoric question. Even a deaf man could hear the underlying insults to the observations. It was Shuuhei's favourite part of the Yumichika's personality, but Hitsugaya was doing well in keeping a calm, level head. "What exactly are we going to be doing, Ayasegawa-san?"

Probably something utterly demoralising and completely barbaric, given Yumichika's nature, and the faint quirk to the shinigami's lips implied as much. Wondering if he had made a terrible mistake, Shuuhei lifted a questioning eyebrow at the Eleventh Division officer, repeating the question about Hitsugaya's fate. Despite the off-chance that he was being ghastly stereotypical at the presumption, Shuuhei had a feeling that Yumichika was the perfect person to assist in increasing Hitsugaya's self-esteem. That Yumichika hadn't turned his nose up at the idea when asked to help was a good sign, and that he'd actually turned up at the Ninth Division was an even better one.

Hitsugaya's expression, on the other hand, left much to be desired. Shuuhei couldn't really blame him – he wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of Yumichika's methods either.

The peacock feathered man hummed, tilting his head to assess the dark haired man standing beside him. Shuuhei shifted his weight between his feet, hoping that keeping his teeth clenched was the correct course of action under the scrutiny.

Seemingly satisfied, Yumichika nodded. "Give me a week," he said decisively. "I'll see what I can do."

"A week?" Shuuhei echoed, unable to hide the surprise from his face. "You sure?"

"He's not _that_ bad," was the affronted argument. It was followed by a dismissive wave. Hitsugaya scowled and Shuuhei laughed nervously.

"No, I mean –"

"And I'm _very good_," Yumichika added. "I'll give him back to you whole, I promise."

Shuuhei couldn't be certain, he was pretty sure the muttered "Yeah, in a whole lot of _pieces_" dropped from Hitsugaya's lips and not his own, though that didn't mean to say he wasn't thinking the same thing. Yumichika's smile doubled in its innocent gleam.

"Eh sure," said the Fourth Seat, sealing Hitsugaya's destiny. He definitely didn't imagine the shiver that trickled down his arms. "One week it is then."

"Wonderful," said Yumichika.

_I hate you_, said Hitsugaya's eyes.

* * *

**End Notes**: Please leave a review if you enjoyed it. There'll be another chapter _eventually_.

- kouhai = inverse of senpai/sempai; lower social class; rude to face  
- san = general politeness; same social class  
- senpai/sempai - mentor/senior/upper classman (both versions are strictly correct - I just prefer the former)


End file.
