I just had this idea because I wanted to write about all the cute little people in the Gigai 13, like Hitsugaya and Momo and Yachiru, grown up. So here it is; let me know if it should continue. I'm planning on hooking Hitsugaya's son up with Ichigo and Rukia's daughter, just for your info.

Enjoy.

"Excuse me, Kenpachi-taishou, but you have a message from Yamamoto-taishou."

It was a hot day in Seireitei and Captain Zaraki Kenpachi wiped the back of his hand across his forehead, glancing up at the messenger with his one unconvered eye. The mammoth of a man was currently sitting behind his desk, a rare occurance to be sure, working away at a mound of paper work he'd neglected for at least three months. If it hadn't been for a rather threateningly letter from Unohana concerning his division's medical files, he reckoned the stack would still be sitting quietly on his desk gaining height by the day. It was far too hot to train, so the blood-thirsty captain had begrudgingly decided to begin his arduous task.

The messenger took a small step inside the open room, handing the captain a small white scroll before bowing and retreating to his fourth division headquarters. Kenpachi cracked his neck boredly as he glanced at the message, wondering if it was worth opening. No doubt, it would simply be Yamamoto demanding his paperwork under pain of death. Knowing it was a great offense to ignore the great captain's messages, however, Kenpachi reluctantly tore open the letter.

After scanning it briefly, the large man gave a snort, though he couldn't stop the grin from capturing his lips. "Why is it always my division?" he murmured jokingly aloud to himself, shrugging off his captain's jacket onto the back of his chair. He then proceeded to pull down his open chested haori until it was hanging at his waist; he couldn't think with the heat nagging at him like that.

Finally, after a moment of contemplation, Kenpachi decided that far worse things could've arrive in Yamamoto's letter. If Yamamoto was that determined to see Toshiro Hitsugaya's son put in the eleventh division, then Kenpachi would oblige him. After all, he'd known the boy since infancy and had actually taken a hand in training him. Besides all that, Kenpachi could distinctly remember once diapering his new recruit. This obviously provided with several opportunities to blackmail and it didn't get much better than that.

Hitsugaya Toshiro sighed and leaned back against his chair, scowling as another warm wind blew in from the West. He couldn't stand hot weather, a fact which perhaps had something to do with his propensity for ice attacks, and wanted nothing more than to sink himself into a rather cold lake. In a rare moment of distraction, the tenth division captain glanced at the wall near the door, smiling as his eyes landed on a few successive marks scaling up the doorframe. The shortest one was labeled "133 cm, age 150." Hitsugaya's sea green eyes followed the marks as they progressed upwards, age 160, age 170, age 180, all the way up to age 220. At age 220, Hitsugaya had stood tall at 208 centimeters, roughly 6 feet one inches. Another smile stole across his lips; that was forty years ago. A lot had changed in those 110 years.

He was not only taller, but older looking in the face; he looked to be at least 25 in human years, he suspected, something which would make his family look slightly strange to humans. His startling white hair had grown longer and he now kept the excess in a thin ponytail at the nape of his neck, decorated with braids and beads. This last affect was Hinamori's idea, "for decoration," she'd said. Hitsugaya felt a warmth drift over at him when he thought of his beloved wife, Momo Hinamori.

They'd married nearly sixty years prior and had a son approximately nine months after their wedding, a fact which never ceased to amuse Abarai Renji. "Eager, weren't we?" he always joked with Hitsugaya, who'd learned to ignore the vice-captain's teasing.

Their son, Rinjoukan, was a fine specimen of a shinigami, already well on his way to mastering the Bankai under his father's careful direction. He wasn't quite there yet and, because of his attention to his zanpakutoh, had fallen behind on his hand to hand combat skills. Hitsugaya once suggested putting their quest for the bakai on hold to catch him up to speed in his Hakuda, but Rinjoukan stoutly refused; he was determined to surpass his father in strength and would waist no time in mastering the Bankai of his zanpakutoh, Sakebichi.

Rinjoukan, called Joukan, was a blend of his parents in several respects. He, like his father, had grown to a rather impressive height, lingering somewhere around 6 feet. His hair was his father's blinding white, but silken and controlled like his mothers. He wore it in a simple samurai knot with a few stray fringe pieces poking out in front. He complained about his hair, telling his father that no one respected "snow-heads," but in truth he loved the attention. Joukan's eyes were a deep soulful brown, like his mother's, but fierce and biting like his father's. He tended to be passionate and enflamed by everything, like Hinamori, but analytical and cold when it came to dealing with dire situations, like his father. Joukan loved a good battle and had the same love of carnage as Zaraki Kenpachi, though Hitsugaya hated to admit that. Perhaps it was by allowing his son such close proximity to Abarai Renji that Joukan picked this up, but he would never really know. Whatever the case, Joukan got in more fights that was completely necessary.

Hitsugaya was truly lost in his thoughts and only glanced up when someone knocked politely on the door frame. Momo Hinamori smiled wryly, brown hair long and dancing around her in the warm summer wind. "Hard at work, Hitsugaya-taishou?"

By Hitsugaya's request, Hinamori wore her hair loose these days, discarding her bun cloth for a freer style. She hadn't aged a day in Hitsugaya's eyes, though he reckoned he was slightly biased by his love for her. She was beautiful in everything she did, graceful, kind, caring; it was a wonder she could even muster up the hatred to battle, but Hitsugaya knew well enough that, in a fight, Hinamori was not to be taken lightly.

She glided into the room and gave a light sigh, taking a soft seat on Hitsugaya's lap as he watched her with a smile. "Of course I'm hard at work," he protested with mock indignance. "I absolutely adore paperwork, you know that."

"Oh, I do," Hinamori laughed, a beautiful, trickling sound that Hitsugaya would never tire of.

He absentmindedly rested his arms around her small waist, gazing adoringly up at her with a lazy smile on his lips. He remembered a time in his life when he would've found this position compromising and inappropriate, but Hinamori had changed him for the better. He was no longer that up-tight captain, eager for the approval of his elders. He was now just Toshiro Hitsugaya, proud captain, husband, and father.

"Have you seen Joukan today?" he asked, idly running his thumbs along her sides as he held her firmly in place with his strong hands.

Hinamori covered his hands with her own, replying almost annoyedly, "No, that would be asking far too much of our dear son to drop by and see his poor mother. He's off looking for a fight, I imagine."

It was Hitsugaya's turn to chuckle. "That's my Joukan. I still think he got that from Abarai, but I'd never compliment the bastard by saying it out loud."

"Someone say my name?"

Both Hinamori and Hitsugaya turned towards the doorway, which was currently occupied by a grinning Abarai Renji, arms crossed in a cool fashion as he leaned against the doorframe. His crimson red hair had grown longer over the century and ended somewhere near his hips, still tamed in a high ponytail which contrasted brilliantly with the black ink tribal tattoos covering his chest and neck, even a portion of his forehead. Renji truly hadn't aged a day and could've been mistaken for his 200 year old self, if not for his long hair. He was still garrulous and impulsive, two things which Hitsugaya both loved and hated about the man. All things aside, he still considered Renji to be one of his dearest friends.

"We were talking about how you poisoned our son with your bloodlust," Hitsugaya replied cheekily, returning Renji's grin with one of his own.

"Did I?" Renji asked, feigning innocence. "I think yer givin' me too much credit, Snowball. Joukan probably got that all by hisself."

"Not my little Joukan-chan," Hinamori disagreed with an impish smile. "He was a good little boy until you came along and ruined his innocence."

This only provoked a laugh from Renji; he knew both the husband and wife were kidding in good nature. "Hah, but yer forgettin' that I was there since the day he was born. I didn't come along and ruin nothin'. It was my plan from the beginnin'."

Hitsugaya sighed and glanced absently down at his right thumb, which was still rubbing methodically up and down Hinamori's side. "That seems like forever ago, doesn't it? When Joukan was a child?"

"He still is a child," Renji pointed out. "He's only, what, 59? Almost 60? He's just a brat still."

"Shiro-chan knows that," Hinamori replied with a loving smile, glancing down at her husband. "He's just bitter that Joukan managed to nearly outgrow him in a fourth of the time it even took Toshiro to reach 200 centimeters."

Hitsugaya scowled, looking away from his wife and trying to ignore the chuckling issuing from Renji's grinning mouth. "He already looks older too, maybe only two or three years younger than little Hitsugaya to humans. How'd that happen?"

"Luck of the draw," entered another voice as a familiar face joined Renji in the doorway.

Rinjoukan's grin was almost a direct copy of Renji's as he stood there, for the boy idolized Abarai Renji in a way which rivaled that of Rikichi of the sixth division. Joukan, however, admired the sixth division vice-captain for more reasons than simple appeal and battle-genius. He knew Renji the man and respected him for his pride and even for his arrogance. The two were so alike, Hitsugaya often teased Hinamori that perhaps she hadn't been altogether faithful during their marriage. This would only make Hinamori laugh and she would reply, "With hair like that? There should be no doubt in your mind, Shiro-chan."

Joukan's fingertips were dancing distractedly on the handle of his zanpakutoh, as they always seemed to be; as usual, he was itching for a fight. Renji grabbed the boy in a headlock, knuckles ruthlessly baring down upon Joukan's snow white hair as the boy grunted in discomfort. "Finally showin' yer face, huh?" Renji jibed.

But Joukan turned an began aiming swift punches at Renji's gut, laughing all the while. "Cut it out, Uncle Renji, before I knock you out."

"Oh yeah? Knock me out? Never, ya little punk," came Renji's typical arrogant reply, and the two continued roughhousing until Hinamori raised her voice above the noise.

"I've been looking for you, Joukan," she said commandingly, using her motherly-tone to grab her son's attention.

Glancing up from his play fight with Renji, the boy dropped his fists and grinned at his "uncle," reaching up his hands to re-tie his destroyed samurai knot. "Oh yeah? What for, mom?"

"To talk about your reassignment," Hinamori said seriously, grabbing Joukan's attention indefinitely as he fiddled with his hair.

"Where are they sending me?" the boy asked, allowing his gaze to drift from his mother to his father, even to Renji as he stood there; Joukan's breath was already growing faint. He'd been awaiting his reassignment from third division for months now for he'd never been fond of Kira's aristocratic and stately demeanor. There was barely any sparring in third division and absolutely no drunken brawling, which Joukan found to be the best part about division life. Besides all this, Kira had filed an official complaint to Yamamato several months prior when Joukan had sent four of his fellow third division shinigami to the hospital division with bruises and cuts from a bar fight. Joukan proclaimed his innocence whenever asked, though his eye always held a glint of mischief and Renji was almost certain the boy had started the fight just to feel that adrenaline rush he loved. Of course, Renjis would never say this, especially in front of Joukan's parents. Even though they were perfectly aware of the fact, that is.

"Eleventh division," Hinamori replied wryly, obviously unsurprised and mildly displeased. "The perfect place to reign in your aggressive nature and decrease your number of weekly brawls."

"Eleventh division?!" Joukan burst excitedly, eyes the size of plates and smile wider than the sky. "No way, eleventh division? Under Kenpachi? Yes! Hell yes!" In a fit of joy, Joukan began dancing excitedly around in a frighteningly good immitation of Ikkaku's "lucky" dance, constantly chanting, "Eleventh division, eleventh division, eleventh division!"

Hitsugaya rolled his eyes at his son's behavior, calling loudly, "I don't want to hear anymore about bar fighting period, do you understand me Rinjoukan?"

Joukan only proceeded to pump his fist enthusiastically into the air once more, replying brightly, "Right, no starting bar fights, sure dad!"

Hitsugaya lowered his snow white eyebrows, opening his mouth to correct his son's interpretation of his scold, when Joukan exclaimed, "I'm gonna go check in with Kenpachi! Hell, this is so awesome!"

Still chuckling at the boys' excitement, Renji corrected him gently, "It's Kenpachi-taishou to you, kid. Don't forget, he may've been one a yer babysitters back in the day, but he's yer captain now."

Sobering, Joukan gave a curt nod and composed himself, taking in a deep breath as his hand strayed once more to the hilt of Sakebichi. He was obviuosly nervously excited about his reassignment, though Hitsugaya had the feeling that his son wasn't quite prepared for the eleventh division lifestyle. Though Hitsugaya didn't pretend to know an abnormal amount about Zaraki's barracks, he'd heard from a rather irritated Unohana-taishou that they bathed and groomed themselves with disgusting irregularity, enjoyed fighting in random outbursts, and ate like a pack of ferocious wild dogs.

In Hitsugaya's view, Joukan had been pampered by his lifestyle growing up, the son of two division captains. He called the other captains "ojisan" and "obasan" for uncle and aunt, on a first name basis with almost everyone in the Gaitei 13. Frankly, Hitsugaya wasn't sure if his son knew where his professional and personal relationships within the walls of Seireitei started and ended. Kenpachi will teach him all about that, I'm sure, Hitsugaya thought wryly to himself, sea green eyes dull as he thought about the impending future.

Even Renji, who doted on the boy, knew this wouldn't be the simplest of transitions. He'd already commented on Kenpachi's superiority as a captain, but all three adults present knew that Joukan would have to experience rank first hand to truly understand it. He'd been third in command in the third division and was basically given free reign, as Kira wasn't quite sure how to handle him. Zaraki Kenpachi would put an indefinite stop to that.

"Alright," Hinamori said with a smile when Joukan had calmed. "You can go check in with Kenpachi-taishou."

"Hai," Joukan said seriously, knowing this was a transition that would probably make or break his career as a shinigami. In any case, he was excited to spend more time with Kenpachi, who he'd always admired for his love of battle and incredibly spiritual energy. He'd been taught at a young age that Kenpachi's eye patch was not for show and, in truth, consisted of tiny monsters which ate away at the man's energy to control it to a tolerable level. Joukan always begged Kenpachi to take it off, but the man never would, for obvious reasons. Maybe I'll get to see what he's like without the eyepatch on, Joukan thought deviously. This is gonna be so great!

"

"Bye mom, dad, ojisan!" Joukan called as he turned and began jogging towards the eleventh division office, which was almost next door in a sense.

Joukan's presence still lingered after he left, causing Renji to smile as he watched the white haired boy disappearing around the corner. "This is gonna be interesting," he commented, resuming his lazy position, leaned against the doorframe.

"Indeed," Hitsugaya replied dryly. "Maybe someone will finally be able to keep Rinjoukan in line."

Joukan turned the corner, arriving at a wing which he knew well to be that of eleventh division, the battlehungry vagrants of Gotei 13. Never in his wildest dreams had Joukan expected Yamamoto to place him in division eleven, especially after his escapades with the bar fight. Perhaps, instead of trying to quell Joukan's tendencies, the captain was trying to put him a friendlier environment. Whatever the reason, Joukan could barely remember being this excited.

As he came to Kenpachi's office, Joukan composed himself for the umpteenth time and knocked politely on the door frame. A familiar gravelly voice called, "Yeah, come in."

Joukan entered the room to see Kenpachi sitting in his office chair, haori legs spread and chest bare as he continued scribbling away at a piece of paper, never even looking up from his work. It was a rare thing to see Kenpachi sitting in his office chair, nevertheless doing paperwork, but from the looks of the sizeable form stack, he was already quite far behind.

When he'd finally finished the form, which he'd consequently forgotten the contents off, Kenpachi turned to look at his newcomer, a lazily grinning Hitsugaya Rinjoukan.

"Ah, my new recruit," Kenpachi said with a hint of humor, crossing his muscular cannon arms across his chest with a mocking air. "You didn't request this, did ya?"

"Nope, just lucky, Zenpachi-taishou," Joukan replied with a classic devil-may-care grin. Despite their casual setting, Joukan sank to one knee and bowed his head to Kenpachi, who watched this display with mild amusement, but greater pride.

"Yeah, whatever. Well, if you can find Yachiru, she's runnin' around somewhere, she'll get you a bed and whatever else ya need," Zenpachi said boredly, rubbing the back of his massive head and causing the numerous bells in his wayward spikes to jingle.

"Hai, taishou," Joukan replied, turning to leave until he seemed to remember something important. "Um, taishou?" Kenpachi, who'd returned to his tiring work almost immediately, glanced up, glad for a distraction. Seeing that he had the man's attention, Joukan continued, "Where do you think I sit in the ranks here?"

Kenpachi leaned back in his chair, scratching his stubbled chin as he seemed to consider this seriously for several seconds. After a while, during which Joukan looked tense enough to burst, Kenpachi replied, "Eh, maybe sixth or seventh. We'll have to have a re-ranking session to see fer sure, though. You ain't that good at hakuda, right?"

This brought a blush to Joukan's cheeks and he didn't answer, a fact which caused Kenpachi to laugh gruffly. "Hah, I thought not. Well, if you can improve your hakuda in the next week, ya might have a chance, kid."

"Yeah, alright," Joukan answered easily, rubbing his own chin thoughtfully. His eyes narrowed in the classic Hitsugaya Rinjoukan thinking pose and Kenpachi raised his eyebrows; that look was never a good sign, in his experience.

"Get outta here," Kenpachi finally said dismissively, returning to his paperwork with an irritating sense of obligation gnawing at his head.

Joukan left the room with a rather irritated glint in his eye; he didn't understand the important of hakuda when he could simply use Sakibichi to slice his opponents apart. What good was hand to hand when he never had his hands free anyway? But he knew the rules about opening up one's zanpakutoh within Seireitei, (he'd studied them all quite closley looking for loop holes in his younger years,) and remembered the hand the hand competitions he'd been forced to endure to be ranked as third vice-captain within the third division. He'd been lucky to achieve third, in his opinion; his hakuda was truly awful. He could manage a solid punch and that was about it.

Near the entrance to the eleventh division barracks, Joukan began peeling his eyes for a head of familiar pink hair when he was unceremoniously bowled over, thrown to the ground by a quickly moving shinigami. He blinked, staring up at his assailant before his face collapsed in a grin. "Hey, I was just looking for you, obasan," the boy said pleasantly.

Yachiru had grown in the past 110 years and now looked to be roughly the age of a 28 year old human. She was thin and spry, as she was naturally a bouncy individual, and her pink hair hadn't dulled any since her younger years. It was still a bright bubblegum pink, though it flipped out somwhere near her mid back now; she'd grown it out because it was "fun to play with," in her words. Kenpachi was having a rather difficult time dealing with prospective suitors, who were relentless in their pursual of the pretty young vice captain. Yachiru seemed oblivious to their come-ons, however, and only laughed whenever they said flirtatious things to her. It only worsened Kenpachi's frequent headaches.

Smiling widely, Yachiru pulled Joukan to his feet and embraced him comically, latching on to him like a babboon with her legs wrapped around his waist. "Little Jo-chan! You never come to see your little obasan anymore!"

Joukan grinned, holding on to his "aunt" with practiced skill. Yachiru had the tendency to throw herself at anyone and everyone, making the entire Gigai rather alert and on guard, should Yachiru fly out of no where with her arms outstretched. Even the cold sixth division captain, Kuchiki Byakuya had grown used to her friendly physical ventures and could catch her on command.

"Well, you'll be seein' a lot of me. I was just transfered to eleventh division," Joukan reported with a hint of pride in his voice.

Yachiru let out a gasp, chocolate brown eyes enlarging considerably as she screeched, "Transfered?! Here?! Jo-chan!"

As Yachiru enveloped him in yet another neck breaking hug, Joukan rolled his eyes with a smile. "Yep, for real. Kenpachi-taishou sent me down here to get a bed from you."

"You can just share my bed like you used to when you were little!" Yachiru exclaimed, clasping her hands together excitedly as she unlatched herself from Joukan's torso.

The boy grew rather red in his handsome face, rubbing the back of his snow white neck with an embarassed frown. "Er, obasan, I think I'll take my chances with my own bed."

Despite her age, Yachiru had the tendency to be rather naive and didn't understand the implications of sharing a bed. Frowning slightly, she crossed her arms in a pout and said huffily, "Fine, ignore your obasan, just go out in the world without me! We'll find you a bed, big Mr. Jo-chan, then we'll get you some big boy clothes with the eleventh division label. Hmph! Just cause your grownup, you think your better than your little obasan!"

Rolling his eyes, Joukan followed Yachiru into the eleventh division barracks and immediately widened his eyes, taking a tentative sniff of the area. It smelled like sweat, old sock, and dirty clothes. Joukan was motionless for a moment before a smirk crept over his features, lighting his brown eyes with an eery delight. He was going to like eleventh division indeed. Now all he had to do was start a bar fight and his initiation would be complete.

One hell of a long chapter, I know, but I write like that pretty much. Review to let me know if this is worth continuing. I thrive on your feedback, like a blood sucking plant or something...except nicer and less fond of drinking blood.

KOLU