Karakura Heroes

Chapter One: Yes, Sir

"It would appear that Aizen has begun to make his move. We've received word of an arrancar moving about Karakura Town." Captain-Commander Yamamoto surveyed the remaining captains with narrowed eyes. Toushirou shifted and frowned. His hands balled into fists.

Aizen… The meeting's cloying atmosphere stifled them. Everyone remained silent as the implications sank in. Ukitake spoke first.

"So soon?" he asked. Yamamoto nodded curtly.

"Yes. The arrancar was imperfect, and easily dispatched. There is little doubt that more are to come, however. It seems Aizen is interested in Karakura." Yamamoto's weathered grip tightened on his oak staff; it rapped against the wooden floor, a dull thud that echoed, magnified by the pervading quiet.

Under the surface, the Captain-Commander's rage sizzled. They all felt it as the spirit particles around them grew heated. Toushirou refrained from wiping away the sweat dripping down his face. Hyorinmaru grumbled.

You mean the substitute soul reaper. It couldn't be obvious just to Toushirou. For whatever reason, Aizen spared the human, wasting time talking to him rather than killing him immediately. Ichigo Kurosaki – what are you to Aizen?

"So what now, fearless leader?" asked Kyoraku, impudent as ever toward their commander.

Toushirou rather envied Kyoraku's poise in the old man's indomitable presence. Sweat slid down Toushirou's neck, pooling in the hollow between his shoulder and neck. His uniform clung to his skin. Toushirou didn't know how the others stood it. He masked his discomfort, not wanting to appear weak.

"This is a matter I've dwelt on quite a bit. I've decided to station an outpost in Karakura. A handful of high level soul reapers, led by a captain, will protect the town and investigate Aizen's interest in the area." Yamamoto fixed Kyoraku with a flat stare. The laid back captain adjusted his hat, irrepressible smile unfaltering.

"Oh? And who will be granted the honor of such a task?" asked Kyoraku.

"I've already made that decision. Captain Hitsugaya will lead the platoon," Yamamoto said.

For a moment Toushirou forgot to breathe. Then his heart started hammering; it felt as though it might burst out of his chest. He didn't know if he was excited or anxious. Perhaps both. It all depended on whether this decision took him closer to Aizen – or further away.

"Captain Hitsugaya. During the invasion, you were one of the only ones to investigate what was happening behind the scenes. That is to be commended. If not for your efforts, who knows what Aizen may have accomplished. This is your reward," Yamamoto said.

"… Thank you, sir." Toushirou felt troubled.

Momo led him by the nose, and when he finally confronted Aizen, he'd been swatted aside like a fly. Was this really a reward? Or a punishment instead?

"Indeed. I will entrust the selection of your subordinates to you, Captain Hitsugaya. All I request is that you broaden your choices to the other divisions. Showcase unity. Now, onto the next matter. I would like to recall all unseated soul reapers from high risk areas..."

Discussion of wartime tactics ensued. Pensive, Toushirou tried to focus, but his thoughts wandered elsewhere. Then the meeting concluded, and the ten remaining captains of the imperial court dispersed. Following suit, Toushirou paused when Yamamoto called for him.

"One moment. I'd like to have a private word," said the captain-commander. Toushirou hung back, watching the swirl of black and white, and one vivid splash of pink, drain out the room. He glanced at Yamamoto.

"Yes, sir?" Toushirou inquired. The hot, enraged spiritual pressure had died down a while ago. It seemed Yamamoto's temper was under control. This fact brought Toushirou no small amount of relief. Hyorinmaru relaxed as well.

"While you're in the Land of the Living, observe Ichigo Kurosaki. Report your findings directly to me. And, if you ever feel that he is a danger to Soul Society, do not hesitate to destroy him. Understood?" Yamamoto's heavy gaze held Toushirou in place. He swallowed.

W-what…?

Toushirou felt puzzled. True, Kurosaki defied Yamamoto and his vaunted captains again and again, but in the end Kurosaki's defiance helped Soul Society. Why would he harm it? He'd only ever wanted to save Rukia Kuchiki. Nothing more, nothing less. Confused, Toushirou filed his musings in the back of his mind, to examine at a later date.

"I – yes, sir," Toushirou said. Raising a gnarled hand, Yamamoto clasped the young prodigy's shoulder in a vice grip. Heat crawled down Toushirou's spine, and he resisted the urge to rip free.

"Good. You have vast, near limitless potential, Captain Hitsugaya. What you lack… is experience. You'll go far, in time. The pride of Soul Society rests on your shoulders. Never forget that. Dismissed." Yamamoto let go, hand dropping away.

Pride filled Toushirou, then. His own pride, at the recognition of his talents by one as peerless as Yamamoto. Toushirou wasn't a fool. He knew what others whispered around corners and behind closed doors. He knew his status as a prodigy, his control over his own abilities so extensive he could alter the weather, often drew comparisons to the captain-commander. His fingers twitched.

(Don't let it go to your head.)

Toushirou frowned but brushed aside Hyorinmaru's low growl. Thanking Yamamoto, Toushirou exited. Surprisingly, he found Captain Kuchiki waiting for him. The noble's expression was impossible to read, as per usual. Had he been eavesdropping? Toushirou couldn't imagine Captain Kuchiki degrading himself in such a fashion. They nodded at one another and then began to walk as a companionable silence ensued.

"Have you ever heard the phrase, 'ignorance is bliss'?" asked Captain Kuchiki. Taken aback, Toushirou's brow knitted.

"Yes, I'm familiar with the cliché."

"Good." Then Kuchiki used flash step and flitted off. Toushirou blinked.

What a strange beginning to the day.

Toushirou sat at his desk. Since taking on the Fifth Division's load, the reports seemed never ending. He sent a prayer of thanks to Captain Kuchiki and Captain Komamura for shouldering the burdens of the Third and Ninth Division respectively.

The scratch of pen on paper, as well as Matsumoto's gentle breathing, filled the air. Toushirou sighed. The matter of choosing subordinates for the mission wouldn't be an easy one. Especially since he'd coordinate with other captains, if he went outside his division like Yamamoto wanted. Trying to work with someone like Captain Kenpachi or Captain Kurotsuchi on such matters was like pulling out teeth.

(Rukia Kuchiki is an obvious choice.)

Toushirou tapped his pen, a steady staccato. Hyorinmaru wasn't wrong. Rukia Kuchiki knew both Karakura and Kurosaki better than anyone in Soul Society. Plus she'd regained her powers in the past few months, and thus was combat capable. Ukitake would be accommodating as well; an added bonus.

One down. Well, two. Matsumoto would have to come. If left to her own devices, she'd likely leave a mountain of paperwork waiting for Toushirou. And only if the division wasn't a smoking ruin upon his return. She'd also probably compromise the other lieutenants with her drunken tendencies, dragging them into the depths of debauchery. Besides, Matsumoto proved, time and time again, far more effective on the field than stuck behind a desk.

He watched her stir and waken, almost as if she sensed his musings. A tangle of golden ringlets rose into his field of vision. She yawned, stretching, like a lion sprawled warm and drowsy in the sun. Matsumoto slung one arm over the couch, turning toward Toushirou with bleary grey eyes.

"Oh, captain, fancy seeing you here," she said.

He gritted his teeth.

"Matsumoto. Do your damn job."

She sighed and whined, hemmed and hawed, pulled herself to her desk complaining about how living life with two melons strapped to her chest wasn't easy. When she reached her chair, Matsumoto collapsed as though she'd just completed a long and arduous journey. Toushirou rolled his eyes.

"Captain, are the rumors true?" Matsumoto asked a little while later. Her superior had replaced her on the couch, hands behind his head and eyes half-closed as he stared up at the ceiling.

"Knowing the Soul Society rumor mill, I doubt it. What do you mean?" Toushirou replied. Pouting, Matsumoto doodled on the transfer request she'd been filling out.

There were many such requests from the Fifth Division. Many soul reapers even quit outright. They hadn't handled the reveal that their beloved captain was a traitor very well. Yet another reason to hate Aizen.

"Some are saying you're going to the Land of the Living," she said.

Straightening, his face tightened into a scowl.

"Who told you that?" Toushirou asked. Matsumoto clapped her hands together.

"So it's true!"

Dodging questions was a Rangiku Matsumoto specialty. Toushirou pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Yes, we'll be taking an advance team to Karakura," he said. Matsumoto opened her mouth, froze, and then beamed. Flustered, Toushirou looked away and slunk low on the couch. "Stop defacing official documents."

A lull ensued after that, Matsumoto's low humming a gentle drone in the background. Toushirou's eyelids grew heavy, and he began nodding off. It had been awhile since he'd felt something resembling contentment. The benefit of being granted purpose, Toushirou supposed. A loud knock jolted him out of his reverie.

"Come in," he called.

The door slid open and Toushirou arched one pale eyebrow. There stood Rukia Kuchiki, radiating anxiety and clutching a – was that a sketchpad? Matsumoto gawked, appearing just as nonplussed.

"Captain Hitsugaya, sir," said the younger Kuchiki. Toushirou made a mental decision to refer to her as Rukia in the sanctity of his own mind, for the sake of ease and simplicity. "I've come to request a place in your squad!"

She knelt onto one knee and bowed her head.

No one spoke. The pregnant pause ballooned forth, hampering communication. Matsumoto's jaw currently lay on the floor. Toushirou tried to figure out how Rukia heard about the mission. Did everyone in Soul Society already know?

"I realize that I'm an unseated soul reaper," Rukia continued when it became clear the other two were stunned and not about to break the quiet. "So I came up with a presentation as to why I'd be a suitable candidate."

She flipped open the sketchpad. Bright colors and thick, black lines assaulted Toushirou's vision. He gaped, at a loss for words. The drawings were terrible, closer to a child's scribbles than anything crafted by a self-respecting adult. Was this a joke? Was Rukia playing some sort of trick on him? Was she mocking him? Anger prickled his skin, and Toushirou took a deep breath.

She still spoke – something about her soul cutter. In the picture it looked closer to a piece of chalk then an actual weapon (and were those bears? They were bears, right? Right?). Her expression appeared deadly serious, if tinged with a nervous blush. It was that expression that threw him for a loop. Such a sharp contrast to the sketches in her clutches. Black and white accented by pink, compared to an explosion of yellows and reds and blues. Then Rukia flipped the page, and raved about a liquid container that defied comprehension.

What is happening?

(It's an endearing character trait.)

What?

But Hyorinmaru didn't respond, curled up and coiled, more like a cat than a dragon. Typical.

Toushirou studied Rukia. In a lot of ways she reminded him of Momo, and the realization sent a pang through his heart. Both were dark and slight; but while Momo's warm brown eyes belied a hidden strength, Rukia's purple gaze looked sharp and hard like flint. A barrier erected to protect something softer that the world tried crushing underfoot, again and again. If he focused, he could make out flecks of blue and red in those violet eyes.

Toushirou felt he understood why Abarai and Kurosaki did everything in their power to save the girl before him. His annoyance faded, forgotten, and his mouth twitched. He became amused. It wasn't an emotion Toushirou experienced often. When had he last – oh right. When he'd scared Momo, right before everything fell apart.

(The calm before the storm.)

"Captain Hitsugaya?" Rukia brought him back to the present, her head cocked. The little presentation finished, it seemed, and Toushirou, lost in thought, hadn't realized it. "Is… is that satisfactory? If you want, I could come up with more –?"

"No, that won't be necessary," Toushirou said. "You've, uh, illustrated your point well enough. I was going to ask you to join anyway."

"Oh." Rukia blinked. "Oh! Thank you, captain! You won't regret it!"

"Of course not. On your feet." Toushirou stood. He didn't know if they'd always been the same height, if he'd gotten a growth spurt, or if she'd shrunk from the weight of almost losing her life, but something about being able to look someone straight in the eye felt satisfying. He moved and pulled out a piece of paper from his desk. "Take this to Captain Ukitake. I'll be in contact to review logistics."

Rukia reached and grabbed the sheet. Her small hands clenched around the paper, and it crinkled in her grip.

She said, "Yes, sir."

"Kuchiki, wait." Toushirou stopped her from leaving. Rukia stared at him. "Do you have any recommendations for those that accompany us?"

"Renji Abarai." She didn't even hesitate. Then Rukia blinked, biting her lower lip. "And… Hanataro Yamada."

Toushirou frowned. He knew Lieutenant Abarai, of course. But Hanataro Yamada? The name rang familiar, but the why eluded him. He crossed his arms. His face must've shown his uncertainty, because Rukia cleared her throat.

"He's the seventh seat of the Fourth Division. I would trust him with my life, sir."

Toushirou exchanged glances with Matsumoto. His lieutenant shrugged. Helpful, thy name was not.

"Very well." He looked at Rukia. She looked back, and then dropped her eyes to the side. She seemed to be trying her hardest not to fidget. Why wasn't she – oh. "Dismissed, Kuchiki."

Rukia inclined her head and left, walking even though it looked like she wanted to run.

Interesting, Toushirou thought.

(You always make things more complicated than they need to be. She's scared of you.)

Then why did she approach me at all, oh great heavenly dragon?

(Because she's desperate, smartass.)

"Oh my god," Matsumoto said. Toushirou sighed, although he welcomed the distraction. "She's so cute! Captain, can I keep her?"

"Rukia Kuchiki is not a pet, Matsumoto," he snapped, irritated.

Inwardly he felt perturbed. Hyorinmaru's observations bothered him. If it had been almost anyone else, Toushirou would've been flattered to inspire fear. Too many soul reapers underestimated him because of his youth and inexperience. But for some reason, he didn't feel that way about Rukia. Even though he didn't know her well, he knew of her, and she had his sympathies. Rukia suffered much, and her similarities to Momo brought out Toushirou's protective instincts.

"I was going to ask you to join anyway," Matsumoto quoted him, although her tone turned lecherous. "Does someone have a c-r-u-s-h?"

"Shut up, Matsumoto," Toushirou growled, becoming annoyed.

"You're blushing," she said with a mischievous grin.

"What? No, I'm not!" His hand jumped to his cheek. It felt cool and normal. Matsumoto cackled. Toushirou's gaze hardened. The temperature plummeted off a sheer cliff.

"MATSUMOTO!"

Toushirou's brow twitched.

"Where are they, Abarai?" he asked.

The red-headed soul reaper swallowed and scratched his head. They currently resided in the room where lieutenants gathered for meetings. Rukia and Yamada stood in a corner conversing, while Matsumoto sprawled out on the table and pretended to take a nap. All three raised their heads and watched Abarai squirm under Toushirou's cold stare.

"Ah, well, y-you see, they'll be here shortly – I mean, they'll be here soon, I'm sure of it, sir!" Abarai shouted.

Rukia snorted. She seemed much more at ease in the presence of her longtime friend, Toushirou noted. A faint smile tugged at her lips, her posture relaxed as she let Yamada fuss over her like a mother hen.

"They better," Toushirou said.

He still couldn't believe he'd agreed to take on members of the Eleventh Division. Yes, they were excellent fighters, but he had a feeling that fact wouldn't be worth the massive headaches their stubbornness often inspired.

Several days passed since the first arrancar sighting. In that time, Toushirou had been hard at work delegating tasks to his seated officers, as well as doing everything required to form an advance team (much of which was spent screaming at one Zaraki Kenpachi). He'd also been in near constant communication with Kisuke Urahara, an obnoxious endeavor that no doubt took decades off his lifespan.

"They're probably lost, sir. They're all obsessed with emulating their captain after all," Matsumoto said in a sing-song voice.

"What the hell you saying 'bout my captain?" Ikkaku Madarame swaggered into the room, followed closely by Yumichika Ayasegawa.

"You're late." Toushirou turned from a relieved Abarai to fix Madarame with an icy glower, cutting off Matsumoto's retort. The bald third seat appeared unaffected, his hand on the hilt of his sword and a manic grin in place.

"What are you gonna do about it, Captain Hitsugaya?" he drawled.

Yamada gasped at the impertinence. A smacking sound could be heard as Abarai brought the palm of his hand to his forehead.

(You're not just going to let that go, are you?)

"You know," Toushirou said, "it occurs to me, that even though we know each other's names, we've never been formerly introduced. I think that's a real shame."

He flash stepped over to Madarame and slammed him down onto the floor. Toushirou's spiritual pressure held the man in place.

"Y… yeah?" Madarame gasped, beads of sweat sliding down his bald head.

"Yes, sir," Toushirou dug his heel into Madarame's sternum, "is what I believe you meant to say. Let's start over. Here's how this will proceed. You're going to tell me your name and rank, apologize for your tardiness, and then I'll tell you my name and rank. And then you'll say what a pleasure it is to meet me, and how you can't wait to be my subordinate. Do we understand one another?"

"I –."

"Do we understand one another?"

"Yes… sir," Madarame choked out.

Toushirou stepped off him and extended a hand. Madarame stared at it, the battle in his eyes clear. After a moment he took it and Toushirou hauled him back on his feet.

"Ikkaku Madarame, third seat of the Eleventh Division," he muttered. "I'm… sorry for being late."

"Don't let it happen again. My name's Captain Toushirou Hitsugaya of the Tenth Division," he replied.

"It's a, ah, pleasure to meet you, sir. I can't wait to work under you." Madarame licked his chapped lips. Ayasegawa laughed a merry laugh and clapped his hands.

"Oh, how elegant," he proclaimed. Madarame shot him a dirty look.

"Dumbass, making me look bad," Abarai mumbled.

Rolling his eyes, Toushirou went and stood beside Matsumoto. She appeared ready to burst with pride. He felt Rukia's eyes on his neck, and it made his hair stand upright.

"Good. Now that that's sorted, let's get this meeting over with. You all know why you're here. Once the final report clears, we're going to Karakura Town to keep an eye on things. While we're down there, only two things matter."

The atmosphere in the room sharpened with interest. Toushirou took a deep breath. He'd spent a lot of time concocting this speech.

"Our divisions, our ranks, our family names – those are all conceits of Soul Society. In the Land of the Living, none of that is important, so forget about it. While we're there, only remember this; all that matters is keeping the residents of Karakura safe, and putting your trust in me. I'm the strongest out of all of us, and no matter what, I'll protect all of us. But I'm going to need you to listen for that happen. I expect absolute obedience and respect. Am I clear?"

(Not bad, boy.)

Their chorus was music to Toushirou's ears.

"Sir, yes, sir!"

And then the alarm went off.

A/N: If something's different from canon, there's a 99 percent chance it's intentional. Consider this some weird AU blend of canon and whatever the hell I'm trying to pull off. I mean, I'm writing about a crack pairing, so... -shrug-

Also, I decided to bring Hanataro because he's a precious muffin. Just try and stop me. Reviews are always appreciated, yo.