Child of the White Winter
Kiasidira Ixari & Aventria

Some Byakuya/Rukia, people. At Tria’s insistence. (And both Byakuya and Rukia might be a bit OOC. Oh well.)

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II
White Out

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(1) Gochisousama. – Indirectly: “Thank you for the food. / It was delicious.” Post-meal, counterpart of “Itadakimasu (pre-meal)”.

(2) Byakuya-bou – The ‘-bou’ attached at the end of his name is a somewhat affectionate term that can be translated as “boy”—not the ordinary boy type, but the rich boy type. Technically, it means “little (prince) Byakuya”.

(3) Byakuya-nii-sama – Onii-sama is a respectful term that means “elder brother”. In this case, it is attached to Byakuya’s name as a sign of respect from Rukia with regards to their relationship as brother and sister.

(4) Hisana-nee-sama – Onee-sama is a respectful term that means “elder sister”. In this case, it is attached to Hisana’s name as a sign of respect from Rukia with regards to their relationship as sisters.

(5) shoji – Sliding doors made of Japanese rice paper. The type you see in traditional Japanese houses.

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“I’m going out.”

Using his badge, Ichigo left his living body and headed for the window with every intention of setting out despite the weather. Outside, the raging snowstorm continued to lay a blanket of pure white over the entire city—there should be no less than a foot-deep carpet of snow out, he silently observed. His human body would no doubt freeze over if he dared step out in it, and thus he was left with no other choice but to set out in his shinigami form.

“We’ll follow as soon as the weather lets up,” Chad said in his usual deep voice.

“I’ll tell Karin-chan you’re out looking when she calls,” Orihime quipped. “Be careful, Ichigo-kun.”

With a nod, he leapt into the blizzard, his shinigami form easily passing through the wall. He felt the stinging cold, but his overall movement and breathing were both unaffected. He gazed up at the whitewashed sky, frowning. Perhaps the reason for this volatile weather was Toushirou. He could recall hearing about the late captain’s shikai being able to manipulate the weather, and wondered faintly if it was possible even without a zanpakutou.

His feet effortlessly fell into shunpo, heading for the orphanage. Hopefully, Karin did wait as she was told—the girl could be quite a reckless troublemaker when she wanted to be. The two of them were much too alike, which only made Ichigo far more worried than he already was—the fact simply meant that Karin would attract more trouble than she could handle. (At the very least, he told himself, she had sharper wits than he did. Maybe those wits would finally be useful in a situation that did not include outwitting their fool of a father.)

Don’t you be like your brother and do something incredibly stupid, Karin. At least wait for me before you get yourself killed…

-

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What in the seven hells am I doing?!

Her feet were numb, her fingers stiff. Her nose and ears both burned with the stinging cold. She was wearing her extra-thick coat, Yuzu’s extra scarf, thick mittens, mufflers, and a thermal cap, but the cold still managed to creep through the layers and lick against her skin. With every step, her feet sank into the white snow. The wind buffeted her, pushing against her from all sides, making her stumble and fall.

The screams, however, got louder and louder with each step she took, giving her incentive to stand up and continue forward. The thought of Toushirou, alone under the blizzard and chased by starving Hollows, chilled her far more than this onslaught of snow could.

A few more steps and she could see the hazy silhouettes of the children’s playground. Trusting her senses, she turned and headed for the thick swath of trees beside the playground, noting the slightly charred appearance of the first few snow-covered trees.

The explosion must have been around this area, she thought to herself. Picking up her pace despite the thick snow hindering her feet, she looked left and right, squinting under the monochrome haze. Another scream ripped through the air, sending a violent shiver down her spine. This time, it sounded as if the Hollow was standing right behind her.

She felt the first vestiges of panic tugging at her nerves. Fervently hoping that Ichigo would be able to feel her reiatsu, she blocked her ears against the violent scream of another Hollow. There was more than one, she knew. It made sense—Toushirou was inherently strong, and would attract not one, but an entire battalion of Hollows.

She gritted her teeth. “TOUSHIROU!”

Left and right, she looked, weaving into the trees. The playground led into a park, which would mean she would be in danger of getting lost within the foliage, but she had no choice. She asked herself over and over—where would a child hide? She could not feel Toushirou’s reiatsu clearly, but from time to time, here and there she felt traces of them left on an odd tree. Faint, but it was there.

Another scream echoed through the woods, making her start in surprise and catch her foot on a large tree’s protruding root. She stumbled and fell face first into the snow, her leg scraping painfully against the cold tree bark. She cursed under her breath, lifting herself on all fours. As she turned to check her injured leg, her eyes widened.

“T-Toushirou?!”

The child, curled up, was snuggled into a small hole underneath a big tree’s roots. The snow came up halfway and covered the hole sufficiently enough to hide the boy’s form.

“Who… who are you?” the boy asked, voice faint and uncertain. Karin found herself staring back at wide emerald eyes brimming with confusion.

“I-I’m Karin,” she stuttered momentarily. Of course, she inwardly frowned. He doesn’t have his memories. “Don’t be scared—I’m a friend. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Little Toushirou opened his mouth and was about to reply when his head whipped towards the sky, eyes widening. “Watch out—“

A scream, louder and clearer than ever, ripped through the air.

Karin yelped as a branch from a tree to her left snapped and fell with a muffled thud to the ground. The Hollow, eerie red eyes and white masked face, peered at them through the foliage overhead.

“Found you.”

Tugging the child out of the hole, she scrambled to her feet and started to run the opposite way. Both of them had high levels of reiryoku—all the Hollows were bound to be at their heels. She stumbled, the thick snow and her layers of clothing hampering her movement, but she pushed herself forward. Beside her, the boy appeared to have no problems running through the snow.

She clutched the boy’s hand tightly as they broke the cover of the trees and found themselves in the middle of a neighborhood street bordering the park. Not recognizing the place, she abandoned directions and chose to simply run away from the overwhelming presence of the Hollows chasing after the two of them. They turned a corner and ran down another street. The physical exertion kept her body warm, stalling the onslaught of frostbite. If only the blasted blizzard would stop—

“KARIN!”

Sagging with relief, she found herself face to face with her brother in his shinigami form. “Ichi-nii!”

“You idiot! Why didn’t you wait in the orphanage?! You’ll freeze to death out here!” Ichigo lashed out.

Karin found herself at the receiving end of a reproachful glare. Scowling, she submitted. She knew she should have simply waited, but she couldn’t stand the thought of leaving the little child on his own out in the snowstorm.

Ichigo’s eyes wandered to the tiny form still clutching his sister’s hand. The little boy was panting slightly, white tousled hair blurring against the white snow. The wide green eyes, however, stood out brilliantly. There was no mistaking it.

A nearby scream disrupted his train of thought.

Always a bother, these Hollows. Sighing, he gripped Zangetsu’s hilt. “Wait here.”

-

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“Here.” Ichigo handed the shivering Karin a mug of hot chocolate. Seated beside her was little Toushirou, quiet as a mouse, observing with calm emerald eyes. The severed chain protruding from his chest was solid proof that he was no longer among the living—which would consequently make things easier for them. This way it would be easier to take the boy to Soul Society, where he would be better taken care of.

The snowstorm outside subsided upon successful removal of the Hollows, further support to Ichigo’s theory that it was Toushirou who brought about the horrible weather. Or more precisely, it was Toushirou who unconsciously brought about the horrible weather due to his agitation and fear.

While a still shivering Karin was talking with a very worried and very angry Yuzu on the phone, Orihime decided to engage the little wide-eyed boy in a conversation.

“Toushirou-kun, could you tell us your whole name?”

There was a pause of silence as the boy seemed to gauge Orihime’s approach, before silent words, very polite and proper, were brought forth. “Takeshima Toushirou.”

“It’s his mother’s family name,” Karin promptly supplied, quelling the questioning stares. “It said on the files at the orphanage.”

There was once more silence upon the child. Orihime, Karin, and Chad were seated around the living room, while Ishida and Ichigo were debating options in the background. Ichigo wanted to contact Soul Society immediately and have the captains, at the very least, informed of the development; Ishida wished to confirm the child’s authenticity first. The face could look the same, but it was not certain to them if it was the very same soul of their late Hitsugaya-taichou—not until they ran several tests. Ichigo thought Ishida overly paranoid; Ishida thought Ichigo excessively irresponsible.

“Think of the consequences, moron!” the Quincy hissed. “You do not want to risk giving them false hopes! You know as well as I do how much they celebrate Hitsugaya-taichou, and in the event of his ‘return’, there’s bound to be tumult! They love him too much! And with all that hero worship after the War, the new generation of shinigami are bound to recognize him as well!”

“Which is exactly why we need to bring him up there as soon as possible,” Ichigo pressed on. The usual stubbornness was evident in his eyes. Ishida gave a sigh. “He’s still a soul, Ishida. He can’t stay here for too long. We can’t protect him at every turn—we have our own responsibilities—and he will be better cared for in Soul Society! They can provide for the kid the way we won’t be able to.”

Ishida was about to lash Ichigo with an acid retort, when Toushirou spoke out of the blue.

“Onee-san,” he called to Orihime. Wide green eyes, calm and bright, looked up at them with a serious air no four year old should possess. “Am I dead?”

The question, posed so simply and yet so discursively, caught Orihime off-guard. The girl stumbled momentarily, glancing up at Ichigo, who gave a nod. It was better to speak the truth. The last thing they wanted was for the child to learn how to lie. “…y-yes, you are, Toushirou-kun.”

Toushirou silently gave Orihime a small smile, nodded once, and returned his attention to his hot chocolate, sipping serenely. He did not seem to be bothered by the fact that was now clear before his eyes—Orihime doubted it was because the child did not understand the concept of life and death, for this child was clearly exceptionally smart.

Taking a chance, Orihime continued on the same vein, “Ne, Toushirou-kun. Do you know where the souls of the dead people go?”

“Father and the people at the church say they go to heaven if they’re good,” Toushirou quipped. “And to hell if they’re bad.” He paused. “…can I go to heaven too? Hell sounds awful. Fire.”

Chuckling, Chad remarked, “You don’t like fire?”

“It’s hot,” the child flatly stated.

“You won’t be going to hell, kid,” Ichigo grinned, walking over and crouching down to the child’s eye level. Ignoring Ishida’s disapproval, the substitute shinigami began to explain to Toushirou. “You’ll be going to Soul Society.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s the place where souls go. You can’t stay here for too long; more monsters will come after you. It’s too dangerous for souls here. So you’ll go to Soul Society instead.” Ichigo paused. There was the matter of some awkward relationships—he believed most of the shinigami who lived through the War and fought with the late Hitsugaya-taichou would have conflicting feelings on how to treat the child. Carefully choosing his words, he continued, “There are some nice people there who will take care of you properly. I will tell them about you in a bit so they will know, and then they will come and pick you up later.”

“Why can’t we just use the normal Soul Burial?” Orihime quipped. “It’s faster.”

“But trickier.” Ichigo shook his head. “No, we won’t be using Soul Burial. We won’t know where he’ll end up if we use that. Soul Society’s amiable for the most part, but we can’t count on him landing in some safe place for sure. He might end up in the middle of a skirmish in the heart of the 80th District, for all we know.”

“So we just get him through the senkaimon?” Chad asked. “Does that work? I thought the only way to send a soul over there was with the help of a shinigami’s zanpakutou.”

“We can ask them over there. I’m pretty sure they will have a way,” Ichigo shrugged. He turned to Orihime. “Could you keep him company for a bit? I’ll drop Urahara-san—I mean, Urahara-taichou—a call. If there’s someone who will know what to do, it’ll be him.”

-

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Urahara sneezed, and then sniffled, rubbing his red nose. “Ugh. Winter.”

“You sound positively awful, Kisuke,” Yoruichi stated in a half-purr half-drawl, perfectly at home as she lounged in what was supposed to be Urahara’s living room. She was cocooned within a warm fortress of blankets and pillows, and Urahara’s special self-made kotatsu served its purpose by warming her legs and feet against the frosty bite of winter as she ate. “You should get that cold looked at. You’ll have to schedule ahead of time, though; Unohana-taichou’s quarter is quite inundated right now. The cold seems to be running rampant around the squads…”

“I wouldn’t have this cold at all if you weren’t monopolizing all my blankets,” grumbled the scientist and returned captain. He tugged his painfully thin and ragged blanket around his shoulders, gazing longingly upon Yoruichi’s pile upon pile of rich warm cloths.

Yoruichi finished her thirteenth bowl of rice and made a satisfied sound, patting her still impossibly flat and un-bloated stomach. “Gochisousama. (1)” She turned yellow cat eyes upon her childhood friend. “It’s called hospitality, Kisuke, in case you aren’t familiar with it. Guests ought to be given the best treatment a household can give!”

“Apparently, our definition of ‘guest’ differs quite drastically.” Urahara mumbled a silent thanks to Ururu as she served him a steaming bowl of miso. “I suppose you are quite finished imposing yourself on poor Byakuya, seeing you are currently disturbing the relative peace of my household?”

“Yes, yes.” With complete disregard for modesty, Yoruichi leaned back, the blankets sliding down and revealing smooth expanses of skin. “I was thinking of staying a bit longer—the manor has its perks—but Byakuya-bou (2) looked like he was at the very end of his wits keeping up with my brilliantness… and so I took pity on him and left.”

Yes, and you’ve decided to barge into my playground next. Urahara gave a desolate sigh. It was hopeless trying to persuade a decided Yoruichi—the woman would never budge unless she wanted to. He understood that she did not want to return to the empty cold of the Shihouin clan manor, and he was perfectly fine with her staying in the house, but what he failed to understand was why she insisted on barging in and stealing all of his blankets when there was plenty enough to share.

“You do realize that Soi Fong is more than eager to have you over,” Urahara mentioned.

“She needs to have some time alone with herself,” Yoruichi waved off. “She has been dogging me around since we came back, Kisuke. Not that I have anything to hide from her, but the snapping and the flashes are starting to get on my nerves.”

Urahara snickered. “She’s still following you around that much.”

“Well, not as much since this horrible weather came in.” The dark-skinned woman turned a knowing glance through the window across the room, yellow eyes watching as the snow-heavy blizzard barreled through the entire Court. “We haven’t had a peaceful winter since four years ago, have we, Kisuke.” Rather than as a question, it was posed as a statement.

“No,” Urahara agreed. “No, we haven’t.”

A silence settled between them, interrupted only by the rumble of the clouds and the whipping of the icy snow-laden winter wind.

“How many years do you think Rangiku will have to wait?” The question was so sudden Urahara had to blink.

“You mean for her to meet Hitsugaya-taichou again in his next life?” Urahara gave a vague shrug. “Who knows. The cycle of reincarnation is not a precise science. As far as any research has ventured, the entire scheme is completely random. Some are reborn immediately after leaving Soul Society, yet some wait for a few hundred years before reemerging. So far there are no cases of reincarnation where they are reborn with memories of life in Soul Society intact, but there are cases with memories from their previous Earth lives intact. It seems there’s a gap in their memory, as if everything they know about Soul Society is erased.”

“We have yet to see shinigami reborn who have kept their developed powers with them—the process of rebirth seems to strip everything away except for the basic soul and the raw, untrained reiryoku.” Pausing, Urahara picked a steamed pork bun from the table and bit into it. “I should really start trying to persuade Ichigo to let me do a little… experimentation. He is quite a rare case—his sisters, the twins, too.”

Yoruichi gave a snort. “Isshin will murder you if you so much as move a single hair on those girls’ heads.”

“Then perhaps he will be more willing to part with Ichigo?” The mad twinkle shone within Urahara’s eyes.

“Taichou,” Ururu’s timid voice came from the other side of the rice paper doors. “You have an urgent call from Kurosaki Ichigo-kun.”

“Araa.” Delighted, Urahara rose, tugging a blanket from a yowling Yoruichi. He wrapped it around his shoulders and moved through the hallways of the by now familiar captain’s residence, heading for his communication labs. Yoruichi was hot on his heels, eager to see what the commotion was about. “Speak of the devil, and he will come waltzing right into your midst.”

The very moment he stepped into the communication lab, he was greeted with Ichigo’s projected and enlarged face.

“Kurosaki-kun—ah, fukutaichou, good evening” Urahara almost sang. If the number one trouble magnet was dropping by for a little chat, it surely meant something interesting was coming around. And of course, to a scientist’s eyes, ‘dangerous’ could may well have been ‘interesting’ misspelled. “What can I do for you today?”

“Yo, Urahara-san—I mean, Urahara -taichou. And Yoruichi-san too,” Ichigo bid.

Annoyed, Yoruichi raised an eyebrow and drawled, “Now, is that how you greet your wondrously lovely master, apprentice? Have you forgotten all the things I taught you long ago?”

But Ichigo ignored her.

“Urahara-san—taichou, I need a bit of help. We have a… situation here right now,” Ichigo began.

“Yes, as usual, of course,” Urahara chuckled.

“Yeah, I don’t really know how to explain, but—” he paused, and from the background, Urahara could hear Ishida’s voice. “—yeah, that’s a good idea. Ishida says I should just show you.”

Urahara raised an eyebrow and waited patiently as Ichigo walked away from the projector that was attached to the senkaimon in the apartment’s tiny extra bedroom (which was more of a closet than anything else). There was a moment’s silence as the screen displayed an empty whitewashed room, until Orihime’s faint voice carried through the line.

“…just going to introduce you to the people who are going to pick you up,” Orihime was saying gently, even gentler than her usual gentle tone. It was as if she was hesitant, picking her words—as if she was talking to a child.

“When will they be picking me up?” asked a smaller voice, masculine, but young.

Urahara shot a glance towards Yoruichi, who was just as bewildered as he was. There were wild guesses flitting through his head, courtesy of his imagination, but none of them were plausible enough for him to even consider for longer than a split-second. And where have I heard that voice before…?

“It depends,” Orihime said. Just as she spoke, Ichigo stepped back into view and ushered her into the room. She was holding a child’s hand, and the child was looking up at her, and then at the screen—

Silence.

“Urahara-taichou, Yoruichi-san, this is Toushirou-kun,” Orihime introduced, the smile on her face still clearly disbelieving, as if she herself could not believe the reality despite the fact that she was holding the child’s hand.

The blanket Urahara had around his shoulders pooled on the floor.

-

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Bowing into the room, Rukia fought to keep herself still under the steady gaze of her elder brother-in-law. Byakuya, she found, was always unpredictable. Often she wondered how her elder sister had managed to snare the man’s ever-elusive affection; true, Hisana was pretty in her own way, but she was by no means any more beautiful than the women inhabiting the higher circles of nobility. Rukia’s usually overactive imagination slid into a pitiful slump—how her sister managed to overweigh the absolutely breathtaking ladies of the court completely escaped all reason.

“Good evening, Byakuya-nii-sama.” She sat herself, keeping her eyes low, careful not to make unnecessary contact and accidentally cast disrespect. The last thing she would want was to fall into disfavor—their relationship as brother and sister certainly was progressing better than she had hoped—definitely far better than before the war—but she would not let that fool her into a false sense of security. Byakuya was unpredictable, she told herself. And therefore, she had to be extra careful.

Rukia waited patiently as her brother returned the papers he had been examining into a Sixth Division file folder. Her sharp eyes caught a flash of orange on the side of the folder facing Byakuya—a priority two matter? As soon the table was clear, Byakuya faced her properly and bid her a good evening.

“Today, I have received notification that you have applied to take the vice-captain screening examination.” Straightforward and frank as always, Rukia noted. “Might I ask why I came to know about this from the Soutaichou and not from you, Rukia?”

Rukia bit the inside of her cheek. She had expected this conversation—prepared for it, even. But those intense eyes that bore into her, they were fiery. And the fire immobilized her. Inside, she trembled with fear, and it was all she could do to prevent the outside from trembling as well.

She did not notify her brother of her application and instead went ahead and took the exam. By now it was common knowledge that the Sixth Division Captain was fiercely overprotective of his little sister and would do anything to prevent any undue danger. Even she was not blind to that. Thus she purposefully failed to notify her brother, for Byakuya would only surely deny her permission.

She gathered her courage and spoke gently, “…I knew Byakuya-nii-sama (3) would simply refuse should I request permission to take the exam.”

Byakuya remained silent, almost contemplative. The silence was oppressive for Rukia; she did not like it much when her brother was this tense. Byakuya was one of those people who commanded the atmosphere around them—whenever Byakuya was tense, the entire room became tense.

“This folder,” Byakuya very silently said, “was delivered to my office late this afternoon.” Rukia watched as Byakuya opened the folder and lifted a sheet of paper—Rukia recognized it as the results of her examination. “You have cleared the examination for vice-captaincy, Rukia. These are exemplary scores.”

A silent ‘eep’ erupted from Rukia, the remnants of a suppressed yelp of surprise escaping her lips. Eyes wide and bright, she fidgeted in her seat. She struggled to control her instincts—she wanted nothing more than to prance in victory, but Byakuya’s probing eyes kept her firmly seated and unmoving.

“You did not expect easy clearance, I take,” Byakuya continued as she stilled herself.

Rukia nodded meekly. “Renji told me that it would take several tries. Matsumoto-taichou told me to take it the first time for experience.”

“While it is true that most struggle to pass this test, it is not true for you. Do you know why that is?” Byakuya’s voice was low and silent, warm. The air was tense, but Rukia sensed no hostility—it confused her.

“No I don’t, ‘nii-sama.”

“It is because you have taken this test with abilities already well within the vice-captain range. You will find that most overestimate themselves when they take this test, thinking they have the abilities needed, when in truth it is the opposite.” Byakuya closed the folder and handed it to her over the table.

“You, however, were delayed. Ideally, you would have taken the test the moment you reached fourth or fifth seat, which is what Abarai-fukutaichou did. But circumstances have prevented you from taking the test immediately. You have grown much throughout the years, Rukia. Even if I do not necessarily like it, I do acknowledge that. You have trained hard and have surpassed any and all expectations I may have had on you; and before you were aware of it, your abilities have already stepped past the line of vice-captaincy.”

Rukia kept her head down, a flush climbing to her face. The heat under her skin tingled; butterflies in her stomach flipped over and fluttered. Such a rare experience it was to be complimented directly by her brother! To hear the words from his mouth, with his voice—it made Rukia happy beyond explanation, made her happier than any test result could.

The atmosphere was even warmer now, but the underlying tension was still present. Rukia understood; her brother was leading up to something. There was something he needed to say—but there was no hurry on either part. She could wait; he would wait.

There was silence for a while, as if Byakuya was gathering his words. Normally, Rukia was content with silence, but in her eagerness to please her brother, silence with him made her self-conscious.

“Do you understand why I would have refused you permission should you have asked, Rukia?” She failed to read her brother’s expression, but it was not a new thing.

Rukia’s brows furrowed, and she pursed her lips. Silence was her answer.

Byakuya uttered a silent sigh, relaxing his shoulder muscles. The tension dropped. “I try my best, Rukia, to provide for you, to protect you. To keep you from harm’s way. This is what I have promised Hisana—what I have promised myself.”

The way her brother spoke, it was slow. Deliberate, as if he was choosing his words carefully, turning them over, making sure there were no misunderstandings. Rukia recognized how difficult it must be for Byakuya to be saying such things—he was a private person, and things like these were kept within tightly sealed boxes kept in the dark, opened only when there was dire necessity.

“Ironically enough, you seem to waltz right into danger despite my efforts.” Rukia ducked her head in shame and made to apologize, but Byakuya raised a hand to silence her. “Being a vice-captain is not an easy job, Rukia. It is strenuous and dangerous. Granted, there are no current vacated positions, but I am quite sure that as soon as there is one, you will be promoted. There will be lesser field missions, true, but if there ever is, the circumstances will not be what you are used to. There will be increased danger—exactly what I have been trying to take you away from.”

“However, I do realize that preventing you from growing will neither be of help to you nor honor the memory of your sister. She surely would have wanted to see you grow, as do I.” He paused, taking a sip of his tea. Rukia was frozen stiff in her seat, half-waiting for the next words and half-dreading them. Each word tugged at her heart—she hoped her appearance still was seemly, for her face was burning. The only time she could ever remember having such an… intimate conversation with her brother was after Ichigo rescued her from the Soukyoku four years ago.

“You are an excellent shinigami, Rukia.” Byakuya’s eyes were dark, but warm. “You are good at what you do. You are responsible and honest, well-disciplined. You are a fine example of what Seireitei needs.” A small smile tugged at the corners of the man’s lips, and they were not hidden from Rukia’s attentive eyes. “I am hesitant to allow you to step forward, Rukia, for fear of you putting yourself in danger. But for you to grow, there is no other way—a heart does not grow sheltered.”

Looking up at her brother, Rukia could say not a single word.

“I give you my blessing, Rukia. You will make a fine vice-captain.”

It took a while before Rukia could find her voice, but when she did, she bowed and shakily uttered a heartfelt ‘thank you’. It was all she could do not to cry in joy. No matter how she denied it to herself, a huge part of her sought approval and recognition, and she wanted it from Byakuya. From her last remaining family. And tonight she received it in full.

“It will be a while before you are called to actual duty, but should the opportunity present itself, I am certain you will be promoted. Ukitake-taichou has vouched for you more than once, along with Kyouraku-taichou and Matsumoto-taichou.” The candlelight flickered in Byakuya’s dark eyes, illuminating a spark of life within them. All of a sudden, Rukia wished to see those eyes full of that spark. “The only thing that has kept them from promoting you was me.”

Rukia pulled on her courage once more. “I—I appreciate everything you have done for me, Byakuya-nii-sama. I understand you were merely trying to keep your promise to Hisana-nee-sama (4). I will be careful and try my best to stay away from any unnecessary danger.”

Byakuya nodded his approval. There was a pause of silence, and then a sigh. “It is late, Rukia. You should retire for the evening. Tomorrow, you are required to be present early at the Soutaichou’s office to receive your certificate.”

“Onii-sama, you should rest as well. You must be tired,” Rukia insisted, partly rising from her seat.

“I will.” Placing his cup of tea down, Byakuya paused momentarily before reaching into the folds of his yukata. He procured a small box, which he opened to reveal a necklace of white gold, with a teardrop of amber as the pendant. “When Hisana was still alive, she oft complained I pampered her with far too many gifts. I realize I have never given you one.”

“I—”

Silence.

“Onii-sama, I can’t possibly accept that, I—”

“If you do not accept it, I will be offended.” Byakuya raised a delicate eyebrow at her, expression schooled into one of seriousness, but eyes flickering with sparks of life. “Take it, Rukia. It is a gift, and it is long due.”

Speechless, Rukia sank back into her seat and took the box. With trembling fingers, she lifted the necklace and held it up, fascinated with how the amber’s facets threw light. She gently replaced the box on the table and tried to fasten the necklace around her neck with great difficulty. It was all she could do not to burn up when Byakuya rose from his seat and went behind her. There were suddenly gentle fingers taking the chain and fastening it together as she held up her hair.

“T-Thank you,” she stuttered. As soon as Byakuya rose to return to his seat, she hastily stood and bowed, unable to keep herself composed any longer. “I appreciate the gift, onii-sama. T-Thank you, a-and good night.”

“Good night,” Byakuya bid.

Rukia almost tripped at the hem of her yukata as she shuffled out of the room hurriedly, her face flushed and burning. Before she could close the shoji (4), however, Byakuya spoke, “Know that I am proud of you, Rukia.”

Rukia bit her lip and nodded, though she was not sure her brother could see it, for she had her head bowed.

“T-Thank you, onii-sama.”

Had she looked up before closing the door, she would have seen a small, amused smile on Byakuya’s face.

-

-

The grey and silent winter night was unrelenting, Matsumoto thought. The cold never did reveal its secrets to her. Winter was pure and blinding, the epitome of truth. And yet it was silent, tight-lipped. Time and time again, it would give her things to think about, things that would boggle her to the end of her wits—and sometimes, she was tempted to think it intentionally toyed with her. Or perhaps not. She never really knew.

Tonight, the mystery was of the sudden silence and calm. For four years in a row, not a single winter day was ever silent and calm. Violent hailstorms were the worst—they were in luck if the weather stopped at turbulent snowfall or lashing winter winds.

But tonight, it was dead silent.

In the distance, Matsumoto could see the Shrine of Penitence silhouetted against the moon, and beside it was the eternal pillar of ice commemorating her late captain and his legacy. Bathed in blue moonlight, the snow was ethereal under the clear star-spangled sky.

To say it was beautiful would be severe disrespect.

She sighed, gazing down at the paperwork she was working with. A wry smile came to her lips—her captain would be so proud to see her seriously handling the work.

But I should sleep, she told herself. A yawn fought its way through her, and soon, she was stretching and bleary-eyed. She ran her hand through her short cropped hair and rose from her seat, rearranging the files for easier access the next morning. She found work was easier when things were organized.

Just as she was about to leave the office, however, a shadow—one of the messengers from the Soutaichou, she recognized—came to a bow in front of her.

“What is it? It’s the middle of the night.”

“An emergency meeting, priority one. Your presence is requested at the Third Division’s laboratories immediately, Matsumoto-taichou.”

“The Third Division?” Matsumoto voiced in wonder. She was about to ask what the entire scuffle was all about when she caught and held her tongue. There was no point in asking the messenger; if it was a priority one issue, then she would simply have to go there herself. “I understand… I will be over in ten minutes.”

The messenger bowed once and simply flashed out, as if he was never there in the first place. Matsumoto was tempted to stay rooted and think the situation over, but there was sadly no time for that. Retrieving her extra-thick winter cloak and scarf, she made for the door.

-

It did not take long until she was standing in front of the Third Division’s laboratory facilities. She made her way in, a low-rank shinigami welcoming her as she stepped into the threshold. She hung her cloak on one of the pegs on the wall, noting that there were already three other people present, most probably the Second, Sixth, and Twelfth Division captains.

After Urahara returned as a captain, there were several major conflicts between him and Kurotsuchi Mayuri. The spats were, of course, anticipated, and at times even encouraged. The healthy competition kept the research field lively, and in turn helped Seireitei recover faster than it would have without the aid of rapidly evolving technology, weaponry, and medical techniques.

The Third Division morphed very quickly into a quasi-Twelfth. Researchers who were previously under Urahara and favored his supervision immediately transferred, while a number of a Third’s population relocated under other squads, unfamiliar and uncomfortable with the scientific approach of their new captain. Urahara was congenial and understanding about the entire matter, letting his shinigami come and go as they pleased for the first few weeks. Kurotsuchi, however, was a different matter—he took the decrease in his researchers quite seriously, and made it a top priority to step ahead of Urahara at every avenue in turn.

After several fiery encounters which incurred a loss of an entire laboratory and injured several men, however, the competition stepped over the line. In order to lessen the animosity and friction between the two captains, the Soutaichou deemed it necessary to divide research fields between the two research centers.

The vaguer and more volatile areas of science were given to Urahara, allegedly since he was less prone to using the technology against Soul Society (meaning he had the sound morals Kurotsuchi simply lacked)—Hollow research, dimensional research and analysis, soul energy and transformations, reincarnation and the soul rebirth process, spirit particle formation-combination, and such things. Kurotsuchi was to deal with weaponry, communications and technology, soul trafficking measurements and research, and medical advances—one of the most important and influential fields, one Kurotsuchi himself specialized in.

This, of course, did not mean that the animosity would disappear.

“…hope this is not another one of your harebrained schemes, Urahara-taichou,” Kurotsuchi’s droll voice came. Matsumoto sighed as she stepped into the wide conference room and bid her fellow captains a good evening.

“I would appreciate it if you would refrain calling my schemes ‘harebrained’, Kurotsuchi-taichou. I am most certainly not the one who experiments with hares. But mark my words—this will be worthy of your time.” There was an unexplainable smile on Urahara’s face, partly ecstatic and partly full of wonder.

Matsumoto faintly raised an eyebrow when Urahara shot her an unreadable look. She glanced at Byakuya, who simply remained as stone-faced as ever as he stood beside a frowning Soi Fong.

It was not long before the rest of the captains started filing in. Ukitake and Kyouraku came together, the former wrapped in clothing warmer than most of them had on to protect from the elements. Zaraki swaggered in after them, Yachiru waving happily from her perch on his shoulder. They had to persuade the young girl with candy before she would willingly part with her captain long enough for the meeting to commence. Unohana, Komamura, and Shuuhei walked in shortly afterwards, followed by the Soutaichou. They had to wait five more minutes before the Fifth’s Hirako Shinji came through the door yawning wide and blinking blearily.

“Happy little gathering in the middle of the night,” Hirako remarked dryly, taking his place with a slouch. “This had better be worth it, Kisuke—you disturbed my beauty sleep.”

“Most certainly.” Urahara stepped forward and was about to begin when Yoruichi waltzed into the room, settling herself in a corner.

She grinned. “Oh, I won’t miss this for the world. Don’t mind me. I’m just a fly on the wall.”

Before anyone could protest, Urahara began, “At approximately 21:37 tonight, I received a video call from Kurosaki-fukutaichou, who is currently stationed in the living world.”

Kyouraku gave a chuckle, Byakuya uttered a sigh, and Hirako gave a groan. Wry smiles were wrung from the captains inside the room with the exception of Zaraki, who wore a bloodthirsty grin.

“Should’ve known,” Matsumoto shook her head in amusement.

Hirako threw his head back in exasperation. “Trust Ichigo to be a magnet for trouble. What did my brilliant vice-captain do this time?”

“I wouldn’t go so far as using the word ‘trouble’ right now, Hirako-taichou. The situation is quite… unique.”

“When is it not?” snorted Kurotsuchi.

“Ururu, bring them in,” Urahara called out. Shuffling from outside the wide room was audible. “It’s quite hard to explain, so I shall do as Ishida-kun suggests and just show you.” He turned. “Matsumoto-taichou, Ukitake-taichou, I suggest you brace yourselves.”

“…what do you mean?” Matsumoto asked, her brows furrowing.

Urahara simply gave her a smile as the door opened to reveal Chad and Ishida. Both bowed respectfully and entered the room, followed by Ichigo.

“Hey, sorry for the late call.”

“If you’re sorry then you shouldn’t have made the call in the first place, idiot,” Hirako sniped. “What is it you’ve done this time around?”

“Oh, no,” Ichigo grinned. “Hard to believe as it is, this time it’s not me.” He turned to someone still hidden by the door. “Come on.”

Out came Orihime with a smile on her face, and she was clutching the hand of a small child.

Silence.

A shaky breath.

“…H-Hit…Hitsugaya-taichou?”

-

Tsuzuku
(Revised Version)

Kiasidira Ixari / Aventria
First Draft: 2008.07.06
Uploaded: 2008.10.03
Last Revised: 2008.09.20