Hitsugaya Toshiro managed to open his eyes, only to shut them off when the light struck him as he stared at it. For more than a second he lost all awareness of where he was, when he was, and why his body felt so damn tired. Weakly, groggily, he tried moving his arms, but found himself to be unable to. Struggling with his own body, Toshiro opened his left eye half-way, and glanced around. Surprised, he realized that he was back in his house. He recognized Hyourinmaru in the corner formed by the wall and his nightstand, as well as the framed picture of himself standing with a frown between Hinamori and Matsumoto. Glaring down, he also confirmed of his lying on his own bed.
…The hell? Was the first actual thought his sleepy mind could conjure as he tried moving once more… And fail. Deciding that enough was enough, he turned to stare at the reason his limbs would not respond. The reason made him gasp in surprise as he turned to do a double take.
Indeed, Toshiro's hands were tied to the headboard with pink colored scarves. What was worse, the knots were enough well done for him to be unable to even feel his hands, all blood flow being prevented for only Oukagi knows how long. Being more than two hundred years old, as well as one of the elite captains of Sereitei made getting untied seem like child's play. All that it required was forcing a bit of his reiatsu out.
However, it seemed that forcing his reiatsu out of his wrists' inner coils and bursting the knots was the simplest thing that was going to happen to him that day. For starters, he had to realize what the hell had happened. Then, should he remember, he would have to understand why he was tied. Finally, Toshiro really wanted to know why his lower parts ached so damn much, he felt like dying.
The answer to his question came as easy as switching a light bulb on. He had been drinking with Ikkaku, Yumichika and, when she appeared, his vice captain, Matsumoto. His brilliant mind making the conclusion, Toshiro realized that he had gotten drunk. The pain in his head was just the first hangover in his life. Damn it! How could he be so pathetic? Getting drunk, like he was a common eleventh division tenth seated who's greatest worry was if he had enough to afford his next meal?
This is just great. He thought, as he allowed his breath to come out in a sigh. Could he have also said why exactly he had been drinking?
Toshiro thought of this better. No, he had not. If he had, he would be speaking to the fourth division's shrinks right now. Bringing his right palm to his forehead and thinking through the horrid headache, he realized that he had probably gotten violent, invoked a Demon Art or two, and that his knowing fellow shinigami had to bring him down and tie him down for his own safety.
Yes, that probably had to be it.
He turned to the clock next to the picture, the one his blonde vice-captain had bought him from the "real world" back at the time. It read 6.09 am. There was still time to prepare and head down to his office for his captain's duties, then, it seemed. However, instead of getting up and heading to the shower, he squeezed his forehead with his hand and tried to remember what had happened exactly.
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale, exhale, inhale…
She was as beautiful as she was dangerous, he knew of that, but did not care. He had to have her. She had to be his. Noticing the look of need and lust she gave him, he crushed his pale lips against her full ones and groped her tight enough to leave a mark to remember him for. She practically gasped in his mouth in surprise, but did not force him away. On the contrary, she hugged him and pulled him even closer, if that was even possible. Passing her delicate fingers through his wild strands of hair and reaching his neck, where she plunged her nails in and started going down, making him shiver in delight and ecstasy, the woman beneath him claimed her prize as she performed his own move on him.
"Don't think you can do all you want with me that easily, Toshiro-kun." She taunted, a smirk developing on her lips.
Shit! Toshiro opened his eyes violently. What the hell was that? He questioned himself, but found himself unable to answer. Probably a dream caused from his drunken stupor.
Completely free, the tenth division captain got rid of the sheets covering him and got sited, placing his left foot on the cold floor, and his right one on a pile of cloth. Looking down, Toshiro realized he was stepping on his own captain's mantle. He formed a slight smirk and got up, only for the breeze to make him shudder. He was naked to the core. What. The. Hell? He questioned himself once more. This had better not be one of Ikkaku's farces, or a special someone, a special bald someone was going to die a horrid death due to being encased in two tons of ice – whether it was his fault or not.
He breathed slowly. It didn't mean a thing. He was just stupid getting all flustered by a trick at best. What if he was naked? He had probably thrown up his lunch and the two gallons of sake he had consumed on his robes. That was the reason he was naked. Again, Toshiro confirmed to his mind that he was also tied because of his possible violent seizure he could be having. And, as for the soreness there, in his lower parts… He had slipped and hurt somewhere. Had not Ikkaku himself admitted that hurting his parts had happened enough times for him to be sterile?
He breathed in relief. All was good. Nothing compromised but his fame of being a non-drinker. Right.
Why was there another reiatsu pressure in the room besides his? Toshiro also noticed another person calmly breathing. His emerald eyes glanced to his back, to the bed next to him and the sheets being caught up in a bundle. Quite straightforward, he reached for them, grabbed them, and pulled them off the sleeping form of one Rangiku Matsumoto. The beautiful woman was lying on her back, her gorgeous mounds raising and falling according to her breathing. She was also completely naked, and Toshiro, not thinking straight, could only wish that his vice captain had chosen to sleep on her front.
His heart started beating faster for the first time in decades. He was loosing his cool, both for watching a woman that almost every single person in Sereitei dreamt off, as well as his mind starting to make the assumptions…
He had gotten drunk, he had woken up tied to the bed, and he was having flashbacks of them having... having that quite predatorily, might he add, with Matsumoto. So the conclusion was...
He had made love to her. Toshiro had to bite down on his lower lip in order to not cry out in surprise. The heck? He had, had, had to be out of his freaking mind! There was no way! Why would he do that in a day like this? What was he thinking?
Toshiro and Rangiku held hands as they cautiously walked through the now empty streets of Sereitei. Cautiously as a manner of speaking, of course, considering how they were both giggling and pretending to be walking stealthily. "My home or yours, Toshiro-kun?" She asked, and the younger man patted his chest with his free hand.
"Mine, of course," he declared, half-yelling and half-whispering between words, "it is the duty of a man to show a woman a good time in his own ground!" She giggled.
"That's my captain!" She said, tightly embracing him and planting a passionate kiss on his lips. Unconsciously, the captain thanked all higher forces for making him grow slightly taller than her.
"Of course I am your captain, Rangiku," he said, matter-of-factly, and grabbing her arm once more, pulling her towards his house. The boy, no, young man reached for his door and, managing to muster enough reiatsu in order to dispel the barrier in front of it, an action normally done instantly and purely on reflexes actually taking him two minutes under Matsumoto's giggles and his complaining to stop that, he opened his door, and, smiling he kissed her all the way in. Their clothes were soon to fall off, and it took Toshiro actual effort in order to get his eyes away from her naked visage and close the door.
"Holy hell." He said. Unless there was a demon art he was unaware of, a demon art powerful enough to modify memories, there was simply no way he would hold hands and actually smile at Matsumoto, no matter how drunk he was.
A small voice in the back of his brain managed to score a low blow. What about the time Hinamori tossed some of that "brandy" in your tea back then, Hitsugaya-chan? If that amount made you drunk enough in order to get you to speak to the Easter bunny, perhaps two bottles of sake could make you bold enough to do… things to her, no?
Shut up, common sense. He spat.
Matsumoto at that very moment stirred. Toshiro froze, and prayed that she didn't awake. She didn't, but moved closer to him instead, dragging herself on the double bed. And, before Hitsugaya could do anything, she had hugged him. Toshiro had to stop quite a few curses that wanted to get out. He was painfully aware that she was hugging him, and that both of them were naked, but he was also afraid to move away from her, and waking her up. So, he stayed like that for a few minutes, desperately thinking of a way out of his predicament. He looked around his room. Since he donned that mantle and started leaving alone, he had got the habit of extreme order, but his room now a complete mess. Like the rest of my life at the moment. He managed to think, before coming to a surprise.
His instincts warned him only one second too late. The alarm clock Matsumoto had given him started ringing soundly. That time nothing could stop a foul curse coming out from his mouth while he formulated a plan to shut the noise maker. He risked it. Thinking a tired "What the hell,", Toshiro whispered "Way of Destruction no. 4: White Lightning", all the while pointing with his left hand at the clock. A cackle, a sudden ray of sparkling reiatsu, and the alarm clock was, as the casual observer would say, "toast". Toshiro smiled. Perhaps things would liven up?
For a moment there was silence, but he remembered of something Ichigo had once told him in jest; it was a law some guy named Murphy had came up with, a law that stated that "If something can go bad, it will go bad. If something is already bad, it will only go worse." Toshiro pondered of the truth of that law as Matsumoto opened her azure eyes.
She looked straight at his own eyes, smiling tiredly and, despite his own will, Toshiro could not help but think that she was the most beautiful person he had ever seen. He let her know that by telling her, without even realizing he had even opened his mouth.
She smiled. "That's sweet, Toshiro-kun." She said, her eyes closing again. She moved forward, and planted a kiss to his lips and making him feel a thousand things. Toshiro blushed, before his arrogant personality struck back in, tossing the hormones aside.
"Rangiku…" He started, but the buxom vice captain would not halt her kiss. "Rangiku," he tried again between kisses, "if you don't mind, what happened?"
She smiled and patted his back, reminding him of the rake she had caused him the previous day. "Oh," she started, "it was rather simple, really… It all started when you walked in the bar."
"What good's Ichimaru anyways?" Cried a – really drunk – Matsumoto, while pinning a slowly turning blue Ikkaku on the table with a headlock that was barely seen outside professional wrestling. "He's just a stupid, mean, grinning, white haired, handsome fool!" The fact that she hiccupped in the 'handsome' part, as well as the fact that Ikkaku was too depraved of air were the main factors of her not receiving commentaries by a slightly worried Yumichika.
The bartender, far too used to the buxom vice-captain's antics to even care (after all, she always paid property damage she dealt, and was quite the site to behold when drunk and bouncing around), only chuckled as he approached Rangiku and offered her a bottle of sake, something honor-bound to take her attention away from the gasping eleventh division third seated, who promptly fainted rightly after a squealing Rangiku released him in order to gulp down the bitter alcoholic beverage.
Ikkaku now saved, the bartender smiled and turned to the latest addition to his customers, who had just walked into his shop. He raised an eyebrow when he realized who that one was, but kept his mouth shut; just because Hitsugaya Toushiro had never visited them before meant nothing. There was always a first, after all.
The bartender just hoped that, from all the captains that chose to stir away from his shop, the only one that would not change his mind along with Hitsugaya was that creepy freak from the twelfth division.
Sighing, the bartender approached Toushiro as he sat down on the far away tables in the corner of the shop, and bowed down gracefully, despite his large belly and customary robes. "Greetings, Hitsugaya-taichu. What can I get you?"
"Whatever, as long as it has lots of alcohol in it," came the broody reply. The bartender felt a shudder in his spine at the tone of the voice; such a cold voice was usually used only by people like Byakuya, not young kids like him.
Even though, he realized as he bowed in front of the captain again, Hitsugaya Toshiro was no longer a "kid". On the contrary.
Having finally reached an even six feet, Toshiro was built, yet not immensely. He seemed strong enough, though, as if he was lifting weights for a hobby. Still thin, though, as if by malnutrition. His wild hair and cold eyes were the only things that remained the shame on him, since he had even changed his attire. Now more wild, and rough at the edges, Toshiro looked like a miniature version of Zaraki. The traditional shinigami robes were the same, but his mantle was tattered. With his changes in height, the Hyorinmaru wielder was now able to tie the scabbard on his belt around his waist, instead of on his back. The bartender formed a smirk as he remembered some of the jokes Shinigami used to say about Toshiro back in the day, such as "It's the sword that's carrying him, not the other way around", or "Poor Rangiku, having to carry both swords and a captain."
He filled the fine china with the sake and gave it back to him with a gracious "there you go, captain," before turning to leave. He patted himself on the back for not drawing attention…
And then the bartender realized that a drunk vice-captain had just registered that her own bottle was out of sake, both her and Ikkaku had no more money to buy another, and that the only other person having sake in front of them was Hitsugaya. The bartender winced; Rangiku alert, he thought as he approached the counter.
"Oh Toshiro-kuuuun," chirped Matsumoto as she swigged across the room at his way, leaving Ikkaku to himself back on their table. "care to share your sake with a lady?"
"No," came the cold shoulder, "and I've told you to not call me that." A gulp, as Toshiro picked the bottle and started drinking right out of it.
"Come on, captain!" The buxom lady pouted. "You're being unfair!"
"And you're being drunk, Matsumoto. It's the same thing. Now leave me alone." He countered with an angry look on his face.
"Nope," she said, as she sat down and patted the left side of her head. "It's not good for you to drink alone, captain, does bad things to your head, y'know?"
Toshiro finished drinking and gestured for another round. Looking at Matsumoto's pleading eyes, he gestured at her. "Bring another one for the lady as well," he finally gave in.
"Thanks!" Exclaimed Matsumoto, as she got a grip on the new bottle. Her sixteenth, the bartender counted. If this kept up, he would be ruined, he mused.
The two sat together and drunk in silence. Toshiro's quiet drinking against Matsumoto's gulping being the only things that broke the silence…
"What? That's it?" Toshiro cried out, starting to lose his patience.
Matsumoto pouted as she tapped a finger on his lips. "Chill out, captain! The future's ours!" The silence that ensued was deafening, and the stare that Toshiro gave her made Matsumoto reconsider. Finally, she chuckled. "Alright, alright! So, there we were, drinking…"
"What are you doing here, captain?" asked Matsumoto, her sake bottle finished again, and politeness stating that she had to wait for Toshiro to finish his own before ordering another round.
"Listening to you good enough?" He hissed back.
"Come on! Indulge me!" She yelled.
"Fine, I'm sitting here, drinking, and listening to you yell odd rumblings of a drunkman."
"That was rude, captain," she pouted like only she could.
"Whatever. Just go talk to a wall and leave me alone." His grip on the china tightened, threatening to crash it into dozens of pieces.
"I can't, captain! You're too broody for your own good! If you keep this up, you'll be in one of the real world's institutes, caught up in one of those white jackets!"
Toshiro blinked the first human expression of his all night. "What?"
"You know, where they take madmen! Where they should take Tousen, Gin, and…" Toshiro's bottle cracked under the immense pressure he placed on it, "…Aizen." She said, finally realizing what day it was. It was exactly one human year after Hinamori Momo died, right after hearing that Aizen had, in fact, been killed – murdered, if you asked her – by one Kurosaki Ichigo. She brought one hand to her mouth in pure fear. The other, she placed on his own. "Captain, I'm sorry, I didn't, I couldn't… I'm sorry!" She managed, but all Toshiro did was gesture for another round of sake.
This was a side of Toshiro that Matsumoto had never seen; a side of Toshiro that frankly scared her. It was as if a Hollow had been carved in his heart, and eaten him alive. Matsumoto was scared for her captain.
"Thanks, and sorry for your trouble," heard the vice captain, and was returned to reality to see that their new drinks had been brought, and that the mess had been cleaned up by the ever patient bartender.
"Don't mention it," replied the stubby man, before taking off, leaving the tenth division members on their own.
"Captain…" Started Rangiku, but Toshiro cut her off. "For now, let us drink." After a thought, he added "please."
She nodded. "Ok then."
"It basically all went downhill from there. We got drunk out of our asses, and before we knew it, there we were." She shrugged. "Not that I really mind, so don't you worry about it – your agility proved to be a very valuable asset in bed anyway."
Toshiro blushed. "So…"
Rangiku looked at him from her corner in the bed, before crawling her way towards him. "So…?" She asked back.
"So… Uh, what now?"
Ever so slowly, Rangiku embraced him. "Another round, perhaps?" She said with a chuckle. When he opened his mouth to reply, though, he was cut off by the sound of explosions and fire – something that just did not happen in Sereitei unless something major was in the way.
Before she knew it, Toshiro was flash-stepping around the room and getting dressed, before tossing her own clothes in front of her. A pause for him to pick up his sword, and he was out of the door, leaving behind only a flabbergasted Matsumoto… Before he stepped back in, embraced her, and gave her a true kiss, one that made her insides swoon in ecstasy.
"Another round sounds fine, but after we see what this is about. Rangiku…" He said, his voice revealing lust, and need, towards her, "…Thank you." He flashstepped out of the room, leaving her behind – again – but Matsumoto did not mind. Grinning wildly, she got dressed, and realised that she would appreciate a shower. Nevermind, she thought, she would just have her captain help her rub her back.
A slight swoosh in the air, and Hitsugaya Toshiro entered the scene. Looking around, all he show was chaos and blood – lots of it. Idly, he wondered why wonderland had became wonder-what-the-hell-happened-last-night-land, before drawing his Zanpakto. "Reveal yourself!" He called out, a cold look in his eyes.
From beneath the mist, a sole figure arrived. He – for the voice was male – was chuckling wildly. Malevolence reeked out of the figure, and pure malice. He was someone evil, someone… Hollow.
Someone with rough, crimson red hair, red eyes, a piece of skull on his right cheek, and an insane grin. Someone wearing a white jacket, opened to reveal his bare torso, and white buggy pants. Someone Hitsugaya knew from times old…
Someone called Grimmjaw, the Sexto Espada.