Woot! Finally, a GinHitsu fic of mine got uploaded!

...I must have, what, 10 unfinished stories on my desktop?

Personally, I've been losing the will to continue reading Bleach after the whole fiasco with the Fullbringers or whatever lately. But Rukia reappearing makes things marginally better. Here I am hoping that Tite-sensei hasn't made any drastic changes to Toushiro (like made him look older when he hasn't grown an inch in oh, about forty-five years and called it a growth spurt, urgh), and that he'll appear soon with cooler superpowers! Boom boom!

Hmm. Maybe I just "lost my will" because Gin had died in the most boring way for such a great double-backstabbing character, just because Aizen wanted to show off how invincible he was and Gin was the only substitute available to be one of the lackeys that get caught up *quote* "in the rush of reiatsu that sweeps up from the super evil character's feet, whirls around him for special effect and cuts up anything and anybody who happened to be standing near him when he decided to activate this particular display of strength". Good job, Aizen, you are now officially the only living thing on the evil side at the moment, as the Boss who is practically crazy and homicidal and thinks he is omnipotent and god and everything, only to be defeated at the last moment by the hero of the series - making the evil side rather boring. Gin - I knew he was a character that would die in the end (because really, where would he go if he was even alive?) but I couldn't help falling in love with the permanently grinning bad guy (always, ALWAYS, the permanently grinning bad guy). It broke my heart when he died. And there's that little part of me that betrays my first impression of him (see above), which half knows that Gin is hiding somewhere, building up his strength so that he can make a comeback and actually have a proper fight with Aizen once he escapes from that shoddy prison and properly save the world this time.

So! This is my take on the continuation of the series! Wow, that took a long time to get the point across. I ramble when it's two thirty in the morning and I have cram school from eight tomo - I mean, TODAY, followed by a visit to Rikyou University's open campus and demo lessons.

Disclaimer: My goal from now on is that whenever I'm starting on a new fandom, my first fanfiction on it has to be a M. So I will make the rating go up later. We can probably see where that will land Bleach if it was mine. And Ichimaru. And Toushiro. Unfortunately I do not ship Ichigo/whoever - only the former two.

R&R and enjoy, please~

The night streets in central Karakura remained busy and noisy even when it was almost midnight, the cold winter air almost bearable when one mingled with the crowd and tried their best to wrap up in the emitted body warmth. Kurosaki Ichigo walked alone through the crowd of couples going Christmas shopping and people who had been working late now going home, hands stuffed into the depth of his pockets, chin burrowing into his scarf, as he breathed out a fine white stream of air that curled and disappeared gradually. The yellow lights spilling from the large windows of the shops lined down the road made it perfectly easy for the boy to see his feet and surroundings, despite the sky being so dark. A cool breeze started up, pinching his cheeks and he shuffled deeper into his heavy coat, ignoring the elicited cries of the people around him, complaining that it was cold and snuggling up to their lovers for warmth.

People are strange when you're a stranger, faces look ugly when you're alone. And women seem wicked when you're unwanted. It was a line he had read in a book somewhere, and had unconsciously engraved it into his memory because he had thought how perfectly true it was in various parts of his life. Especially the last phrase. But although being rejected had hurt, and his inability to heal from wounds deep to the heart (apparent since his childhood) coupled with the limited time he had had to himself during the Winter War impended on his recovery from the shock, it was nothing compared to the realization that with his shinigami powers gone, he would never be able to even converse with him again – a feat he had considered astoundingly remarkable when he had managed to accomplish it after his humiliation. Yes, him. Ichigo's first crush; one-sided, of course, so painfully obvious he could not understand why he had not even taken that in account when he had confessed; already dead and a shinigami at that. And well, a guy. And other complications following that, but these were the factors that probably contributed to his extremity and fascinating presence which had attracted Ichigo in the first place. With an outlook and a personality to match the chilly weather Karakura was having right now.

Ichigo wondered if the weather could be Hyourinmaru's wrath, and that somewhere up in the sky, it's owner was battling for his life while taking part in a captain-level mission. He couldn't sense reiatsu anymore, but since the most powerful ice element zanpakuto wielded the power to change the weather, it may not be totally impossible to find his whereabouts by checking the emergency forecast. Ichigo knew that thinking about failed relationships for days on end was definitely not good for his mental health – he had heard plenty a miserable whine during lunch at school, usually emitted somewhere around where Keigo could be spotted curled up in a corner after his most recent mishap with a girl. Mizuiro seemed to have a detached sense of "relationship", and although Ichigo worried about it sometimes, he still seemed to be able to differentiate between what was disposable (although the orange-head wished there were less in that certain repertoire of Mizuiro's) and what was not – Chad either never felt the blow of a romantic life exploding in his face or he chose not to waste his breath on it. There was nothing to do in the winter break, however, and without his shinigami duties there wasn't much Ichigo could do except mope. His head felt constantly light and empty on his action-free days, so even if it was against his own will, he couldn't help but fill his mind with memories and the occasional fantasy his imagination had created of his first love.

He wished he had taken a photo before he had left (though it was questionable if a ghost would have shown up on film, and the thought, although it stung, was also a small relief, because he wouldn't be pressured by his inner conscience which ridiculed himself for his carelessness, even though a photo would probably just be torture to him anyway. Then he remembered that shinigamis had gigais, and the regret washed over him anew), because he feared that he was already starting to forget what his crush had looked like. Although his more distinctive features, like his hair and eyes and height, stayed crystal clear in his mind, the less prominent details of his being was beginning to fade inside of him. Ichigo screwed his eyes shut for a moment, a practice he had taken to over the weeks since the battle, not caring if he was in the middle of a busy street and was shuffling his feet along awkwardly to at least give the impression that he was moving. The contours of his face, the high cheek bones, the slightly upturned nose, the creases on his forehead that rarely seemed to fade, the taut muscles that rippled all over his body under pale skin and dark robes, waist so slim it looked as though it might break when gripped too tightly … he ran all the images in his head to piece them together to one person. It felt a little perverse, to remember somebody like that, but he did it with all his friends he had lost and was lucky enough to have stayed close enough to unconsciously pick up the details – Rukia, Renji, Byakuya, even Kenpachi. He just remembered this one person more frequently.

A night like this would have been a dream come true if he was beside me, he thought dully. I would have made him happy. I wanted to see his smile.

Ichigo sighed, and reopened his eyes, feeling a bit gloomier than he had before, when he glimpsed a small boy with snowy white hair covered by a hoodie walk across his path several feet before him.

He stopped.

The other did not.

But their eyes met, teal to brown, and then he had disappeared quicker than he had materialized through the gap of couples separating them. The instant was so brief, so seemingly insignificant in the masses, Ichigo would have thought it as a trick of the light; but he had seen the slight widening of those green, green eyes, had seen the emotions swirling like the depths of the sea behind clear glass - and that was enough to shock him into paralysis.

Ichigo stayed rooted to the spot for a split second before snapping out of his reverie, and gave chase to the figure he could not see in the crowd anymore.

"'Scuse me, coming through, 'scuse, excuse me–" he searched frantically, whipping his head around once he got to a clear enough space. People were staring at him, but he couldn't care less, he had to find him, he didn't dare to think what he would do to himself if he lost him now–

A figure flashing in a shop light near the edge of the street; he was slipping into a darkened side alley, between a cheerful looking jewelry shop and a small family owned grocery store which had already closed for the night. A woman shrieked when Ichigo accidentally bumped into her in his haste, he bowed his head slightly in apology before rushing to follow the child-like figure into the dark. Inside, he could hear pounding footsteps and pants that were not his own, echoing off the narrow walls that led further away from the busy road. His hopes rose when he heard the harsh breathing; they sounded familiar, and so sweet in his ears after so long, never mind how corny it seemed, the mere noise ignited his will and made him run harder. But although the teenager's legs were longer and faster than the boy ahead of him, the streets they had entered were small and winding, and with every turn Ichigo thought that the sounds were getting farther away. When after a couple of minutes he could no longer hear anything, even when he stilled his own breaths and ignored the pounding of his heart for a few seconds, he continued to sprint the next block until slowing to a halt, resting his hands on his knees to breathe.

He had been so close. He didn't know why the boy was here, nor what coincidence or fate or whatever had brought them to meet each other again, nor why he had appeared in his gigai (because Ichigo wouldn't be able to see him otherwise, right? Right?), nor why he ran. Well, maybe the last question could be answered. Ichigo had loved him for his matureness and sensibility he adorned most of the time, and although his appearance was that of a child, his inner self was far from one. He would know how Ichigo was still feeling, would have speculated that he had not yet let go of the unrequited love. He would want Ichigo to move on. He should have known that appearing before him now would only intensify Ichigo's emotions and leave him aggravated. It will kill him.

The lone boy gritted his teeth – out of anger, out of grief, in an overwhelming tide of anguish and hurt. There was spite there, too, but it wasn't aimed at anybody in particular, if not at himself for having wandered into such a situation. Desperate, needing and discarded. Remorse blinded him and he considered lashing out at the nearest wall, had he not felt like all his strength had up and left him. He was unaware of how far he had run, and though there were small shops surrounding him already closed, the hubbub of the crowd in the main street had disappeared into the night. But as he became aware of the cold sweat running down his neck, some dripping like tears on the way, and his feet felt less numb and his head clearer (though not less hurt, just trying to sort out the confusion that had overtaken him in the past minutes), he stiffened when easy footsteps seemed to be coming nearer, paced and careful in the dimness.

Ichigo hardly allowed himself to believe, he had been disappointed enough – but the idea that had entered his mind then gave him energy. The boy who had run had been nearby, at some point, and though the owner of these footfalls was obviously too heavy and relaxed to be who Ichigo was chasing, they might have seen him dashing off in another direction. Ichigo was not ready to give up yet, powered by the thought that he still might have a chance, and straightened, wiping his mouth as his ragged breathing still wheezed themselves out of his chapped lips. He was so excited he opened his mouth to get the other person's attention even before he could see them around the corner, but just when a faint shadow cast by moonlight appeared in his area of vision, another voice, playful and concerned, wavering and silky, melodic but chilling to the bones, sounded.

"My, my…why're ya in such a rush, Toushiro? Did something happen? Yer back faster than I thought…"

The voice trailed off when the person finally rounded the turn, laid his eyes on the shell-shocked Ichigo, stopped dead and pursed his lips for a moment. The pause was long enough for the teen to identify the locks of fine, silvery hair in the dim, blue-greyish city lights, the slim, tall body, a rather pointed face and eyes that had previously followed most into their nightmares, thin slits that seemed to see nothing and everything at the same time. The lips stretched into their trademark smile, although, in the back of Ichigo's head, something trilled unfamiliarity to the way it presented itself on the fox-face.

"Ah," said Ichimaru Gin, smoothly. "Mah apologies. I mistook–"

He wasn't able to finish the sentence, because Ichigo, poised with one hand slightly outstretched and his mouth agape to ask him the question, suddenly leapt into action and ran at him, almost screaming, fists closed and ready to make contact with the grinning, now openly stunned, face. He didn't try to register that a man who was supposedly dead – again – was here, and wearing material world's clothes; all he cared about was that this was an enemy he could not defeat even with his shinigami powers, this was the evil that had hurt him, had betrayed him and had been partially responsible for him sustaining those injuries Ichigo first met him with. A surprise attack certainly would have given him some advantage, but tactical thinking was not in Ichigo's mind right at the moment. There was only fear and hatred, which clouded his sight and left him with nothing but the wish to pummel this treacherous filth into the ground, so even the unnatural look of dumbfounded astonishment on the man's face did not make it to his brain.

And he couldn't dodge the thin, pale arm that snaked out from underneath Ichimaru's arms, which latched on to his neck under his scarf – which had become undone – with surprising force and strength, until it was too late and he was gasping with Hitsugaya Toushiro up in his face, snarling, "Don't you even think about touching him!"

Ichigo, after the months of fighting experience with deadly foes, and with the memory of his mother giving her own life to save him still reminiscent, had learnt that when somebody threatened him in a way a female wolf would to protect her cubs from a predator to the point of eating them herself, it was best to give them some space if not only to bide himself time enough to save his own skin. He made motions meaning to wrench away from Toushiro's vice-like grip that was sure to leave bruises, and from Ichimaru, who was standing there behind Toushiro, stock still. The smallest of them all eventually got the message and released him, glaring daggers into the retching Ichigo's chest as though he was thinking of sticking his fist through it. He backed up protectively, nearer to Ichimaru, who put a hand on the boy's shoulders. Ichigo had recovered enough by then to catch the movement – he scowled, displeased, while trying to overcome his state of haziness (from both the puzzling turn of events and from oxygen deprivation).

"Toushiro," Ichimaru was saying, his fingers digging a little into the boy's skin over his hoodie. "What's going on?"

"That's my line, you evil bastard," Ichigo rasped. He glared at the tall man over Toushiro's head, while trying to keep an eye on the – apparently feral – boy himself at the same time. "How dare you show up in front of me again? And Toushiro – what are you doing! Get away from him!"

Ichimaru said, "Why does he get ta call ya by yer name."

"Shut up, he never listens to me when I tell him not to," Toushiro muttered. "As for you, Kurosaki, I would advise you to keep out of our business. You are not a shinigami anymore, Karakura is no longer an object needing of dire attention, so you have no say on our actions whatsoever. Stay away. Forget you ever saw us. It's for the best."

The ferociousness that had been in his grip and eyes had receded somewhat, and Ichigo could detect a sense of shiftiness around the boy after Ichimaru had spoken. "I'm not letting you off that easily," he retorted. His throat was raw from the panting in the cold winter air, so his voice came out hoarse and thin. "If you don't have to babysit Karakura anymore, why are you even here? And I thought he," Ichigo pointed an accusing finger at the fox-face, who was still looking innocently bemused but kept a firm hand on the boy in front of him, "He died! I got told that much. That creep died! What is this, Toushiro! You aren't doing anything, are you!"

"No," Toushiro said, a little too quickly. "No, I – we're just, trying to solve that as–" He took a deep breath, backtracked, and glared at Ichigo in the eyes. Icy, emerald fire smoldered into chocolate. "I haven't gotten an answer for you," he said lowly, "But if you know that – that Ichimaru had died, you would also have heard about why and how he did. And you'd know that he doesn't deserve your comments."

The man behind him made no motion, half hidden in the shadows.

Ichigo stared disbelievingly at the two of them, Toushiro looking cornered and sweating, trying to stare Ichigo down but failing for some reason (he never had the problem before), just grounded by the single touch from the silent, infuriatingly relaxed Ichimaru. A car drove through the roads some streets away, it's engines roaring away into the night.

"Don't you remember," he said, voice shaking, fists clenching tighter, "What he did to try to achieve that? Did you, and the rest of Soul Society just decide to conveniently forget his crimes because you sincerely feel they were for the greater good? He almost killed you, Toushiro!"

The boy's head jerked up, eyes wide, like a deer in headlights. But his reaction was next to nothing to Ichimaru's, whose hand slipped from Toushiro's shoulder and his almost gentle expression slackened into one of genuine surprise, of shock. "Wha–?"

Ichigo whirled on him, furious dark eyes flashing in what little light was around, rage spurring him on and making him unable to register the man's strange reaction in his brain. "You abandoned him and left him for dead," he hissed. "Stop fooling around! Stop touching him like you don't know how much it hurts him to just be near you, stop trying to act like you never lied to him–"

"Kurosaki!"

Ichigo hadn't noticed he'd been advancing on them, fixated on the steadily changing face, already so warped and twisted than his usual smooth, sly grin, taking sick satisfaction in the fact that the lanky man's arm had dropped completely away from Toushiro's body, hanging limply at his side as he made a movement that seemed as though he was going to take a step away from where the now frantic-sounding child stood too. The scenario that explained everything apart from Ichimaru's existence was playing perfectly in the teen's head; Ichimaru had been accepted back into Soul Society for his deeds, and since he was no doubt thought of unfavourably by any remaining followers of Aizen, Toushiro had been given the charge to protect him. Anger laced through the young man's body, that such a burden had been hoisted onto those slim, narrow shoulders, and one which Ichimaru could use to gloat and rub into Toushiro's face, as well.

He took several steps forward, near enough for Ichimaru to be within arm's reach. "I don't care what sins you've been pardoned for by those "higher-ups" everybody used to talk about," he all but snarled. "I don't care if they decided to overlook the role you played in the massacre, and Rukia's execution, and the Arrancar battle, but you should have known – you should have known that when you mess with somebody people care about, when you mess with Toushiro, I won't stand down, I'm gonna–"

But what Ichigo would have done was lost permanently in the wind that escaped through his lips when something hard burrowed into his abdomen, knocking him back as soon as he got into proximity. With Toushiro's foot. The orange head barely had time to react before something was fisting his heavy clothes around the crook of his neck, and Touchiro was throwing him single-handedly into a nearby wall. He yelled as his back connected with it, gagging at the impact. A flash of white; then Toushiro was more or less at his throat, screaming into his face, "He doesn't remember!"

A moment of stillness in the night. Ichigo continued coughing, watering eyes looking up at Toushiro's frantic, enraged, haunted appearance as he slumped to the hard concrete ground. He caught sight of Ichimaru, still standing unmoving as a rock, where he had backed away slightly from Toushiro after Ichigo's words. His own expression was like a splash of icy water to the teen's blinding fury; a look of horror, unbelieving revulsion, and although he could not figure out at what, the sight of the fox's unreadable face having morphed into something so different to polar dimensions was enough to finally get Ichigo to wrap around his mind that something was very wrong.

"He doesn't remember," Toushiro was saying, again. "This Ichimaru – Gin didn't do any of those things, Kurosaki. He has no clue – has no memory whatsoever of who he is or who he used to be, who I was at the start. Gin is not the one you need to take your temper out on. If anything, it should be me."

He flicked his snowy locks out of his eyes – they were damp, Ichigo realized, with sweat, and ruffled from where they had been underneath the hoodie. Ichimaru advanced forwards then, and Ichigo stared up at him with confused eyes.

"Toushiro," he said in a low, slightly urgent tone. "What did he mean by that?"

And the words finally clicked together in Ichigo's brain. His thoughts were awhirl, disbelieving of the information he had just been given; it was unthinkable, that the traitorous dirt could simply have his memory wiped clean, that he could be forgiven for his actions as simple as that, and life for him could continue as though nothing extraordinary had ever happened to him. It was…unforgivable.

There is always the chance he is faking it, Ichigo reasoned to himself. Toushiro could have fallen into a trap.

But there was something about the way Ichimaru looked to the boy, shorter than him by definitely more than a head, like as though he was searching for guidance that made the tiniest seed of doubt spark in his chest.

"Don't worry about that for now, Gin," Toushiro murmured, without turning around, "I'll explain it, after we finish off here." (Ichigo didn't like the way he said the last bit).

"But," Ichimaru intervened. "Why didn't ya tell me about it before? Ya left it out," he said with a trace of accusation.

The white haired boy shook his head, a look of regret only visible to Ichigo flashing in his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said finally, voice taking on the sound of someone trying hard to keep it steady, lest it crack along with the rest of him, straightening and turning towards the man standing so forlornly. "But…the affair was complicated. I'm sorry I withheld information you would have wanted to hear, but please, just bear with me for a while longer. It…it was hard for me to tell you. We'll talk later, I promise."

A hesitant pause on Ichimaru's part, before he gave an uneasy nod, uncertainty brimming so noticeably, "When yer ready. But tell me everything. I need ta know, Toushiro."

"Don't call him that," Ichigo muttered lowly. He hadn't meant to say it out loud, but he snapped out of his reverie when the name entered his ears. But at least the shock had cleared his head, and the boy was more willing to approach from a different stance.

It didn't look as though Toushiro was about to give him the chance, however. He turned, slowly, back to Ichigo, the creases on his forehead as deep as ever, still looking protective, threatening the other to try. Ichigo was instantly reminded of the ferociousness the young captain fought with even with such a small body, treating physical stature as nothing much of a hindrance and instead using his agility to weave through the enemy's attacks. He took a deep breath, and tried to muster what he thought was a slightly more patient, composed way than before.

"Toushiro, I – I don't mean any harm to you," he started, "I don't understand. I – do you know how this is for me?" He looked up at the small, taut face from his place on the ground, knowing that he looked as confused as he felt. "I thought you were gone from my life. I thought all of you were; especially him." Ichigo couldn't help it – he glared at Ichimaru with as much venom in his eyes. Toushiro's expression remained stony. "Do you know how it is to have everything thrown back into my face? You…you didn't have to wear a gigai," he said, almost reproachfully.

There was a minute movement on Toushiro's part, which may have been a shuffle. "…I did, actually. Kurosaki…it's difficult to explain, or decide where to start with, but at the moment, Ichima – Gin, is just like you. He does not have any powers. He cannot see ghosts. He's, well, human. Just like you."

What a horrible way to cut off the story (for me). I don't really do cliffhangers. I once almost killed myself with lack of sleep writing my fanfiction on here, Samurai Deeper Kyo, where one chapter was approximately 15,000 words long. And I wrote the chapters I have during four days, which might not seem like a lot to some writers around here, but for a middle school student? Shucks. I have not updated since XD

Aah, earthquake. Just now. If there's sea sickness, can there be an earthquake sickness? It's probably my imagination, but they're getting longer and definitely more frequent. This is just how it was before the Touhoku earthquake, God bless the survivors. Tokyo is getting a lot of them lately, probably because of the Northern Tectonic Plate having slipped back in March, and is now affecting the (what I like to call) Central Tectonic Plate, where Tokyo is situated in. A big one would probably come in a month or so. If it was my choice, I would consider leaving the country for a bit, but you know. Reality. Whoops, that's me rambling again. Back to the fic.

I am so sorry if the characters seem OOC this time round. I promise it'll get better! Now watch me destroy what little resemblance of the ultra cool kick ass Shinigami personalities they had left, muahahaha.

Reviews Please~ And I might consider updating in the next six months! Ahhh, nothing like jokes at three in the morning...