Bleach: The Captain, Toshiro Hitsugaya x OC

Chapter 4: The Sentinel

The wind kicked up and my hair sweeped across my face in a mess of tangles. I wrapped my haori tighter around me to keep out the invading chill. Clouds had settled in to stay, blocking out the sun and any warmth it would have provided. Some how the weather was always like this when I visited his grave. I climbed the hill and gazed at the field below. It was a somber view. A little wooden marker, covered by the long, snaking branches of a weeping pagoda tree, were the only features on the summit.

Sitting cross legged on the cold ground, I took a moment to collect my thoughts. I reached over and dusted the fallen leaves from his marker. His name wasn't on it, it was just a small reminder of his passing I had placed there over fifty years ago. His body wasn't really there; his spirit energy became a part of the Seireitei after his passing. That was what happened to all shinigamis when they passed. Just like I will someday. I closed my eyes.

I could hear his voice like it was yesterday.

"Akira where are my books at?" he craned his head out of the bedroom at me.

"I don't know what you're talking about." I closed my eyes defiantly. He knew I was lying.

"You can't keep hiding my things expecting that it'll make me stay Kiri, it doesn't work that way."

"Why not? I don't want you to leave, there won't be anyone left here but me if you go away!" I stifled a sob.

On the table was a letter. It read that brother had been accepted into the thirteen court guard squad.

He walked across the room and knelt down beside me. "We have no money Kiri and we can't support ourselves. This is a chance for us, an opportunity even."

"An opportunity for you maybe." I jerked my head away from him.

"Don't be like that Kiri, besides in a few years I know you'll join the academy and become a soul reaper like me. Heck we might even end up in the same division!" he tried to sound cheerful, but I wasn't in the mood today.

"How many years will I have to wait before I can go to the academy? Five, ten or maybe fifteen years? It takes a long time to be accepted!"

He placed his hand on my shoulder. "Less than that I'll bet Kiri, we just have to wait patiently. I happen to know someone who's in your situation, I'll get you two in touch. That way you'll have someone to train with there. You'll be so busy with your studies, you won't have time to miss me!"

I felt like bursting into tears.

He sighed. "I will visit you there as often as I can. That I can promise Kiri. But for now all I can do is work and keep you fed."

I wasn't stupid, he wasn't saying the whole truth but there was no use discussing it with him. It was hard for him to leave home and I couldn't keep holding grudges. I resigned myself. "I'm sorry. I'll go and get your books."

He frowned at me and then sighed. "Never mind that for now. Come outside and let me show you what I've been working on."

I nodded and followed him out the front door. He reached under the porch and produced an intricately carved wooden sword. Handing it to me, he gave me a lopsided grin. "You did say that you wanted your own zanpakuto, how will this do?"

I held the intricate object in my hands, instantly loving it. Smiling as wide as I could, I thanked him. "It's just like yours!" I marvelled at its beauty. I walked over to him and wrapped my arms around his waist, giving him a hug.

I saw the sadness in his eyes. He reached down and ruffled my hair, trying to lighten the mood. "So what will you name it Kiri? Every zanpakuto has a name."

I tapped my chin thoughtfully. "How about Hakucho?"

He smiled at me. "The swan? How come?"

"I think they are beautiful creatures, don't you?" I said.

"Yes but they are also incredibly deadly." he remarked.

"I never thought of it that way. What about yours brother? You never did tell me its name." I pointed to the black hilted sword tucked into the white sash of his black kosode.

"Huh I guess I didn't." he scratched his messy blonde hair. Drawing his sword, I had my first real chance to examine it. It was elegant thing. Tiny filigree markings covered the blades surface, a mirror image of the craftsmanship he put in to all of his woodworking.

"This is Murasame, it's a water type zanpakuto. I'm getting to know him on a personal level right now. There's still a lot for me to learn about him but I'll understand him better someday."

I had to agree with its affinity, it had a fluid look to it. Though it felt like it was missing something. A jolt of remembrance struck me, I had almost forgotten what I had made for him earlier that day. Digging down into the deep pockets of my robes, I pulled out three strings of brightly coloured beads. I had tied little decorative knots and added each bead thoughtfully; yellow, green, pink, blue and orange shiny little orbs glittered when they caught the sunlight. I had collected them all summer long, from my wanderings around the market. I had hoped it would make a nice parting gift for him. Holding the strings outstretched in my palm, he grabbed them and tied them to the hilt of his blade.

"Thank you Kiri, this is perfect."

                                                                                          ***

I grabbed the blade, which was now tucked behind my haori, and placed it in my lap. In my hands, Murasame was not much bigger than a dagger. The hilt that was once black, now faded to grey and the tiny colourful beads showed signs of wear. The blade its self, however, was unaffected by time.

Reaching over, I untied the little parcel I had brought with me. Wrapped in a tea towel was a small thermos of his favourite green tea. Searching the ground, I found the small tea cup that I had kept there and placed it on the top of the marker. I poured some of the steaming liquid into the little cup for him, giving a larger portion to myself in the upturned lid. I took a small sip that warmed me up, fighting off the nip of the autumn cold I was feeling.

"Today was my first day as a captain. I wish you could have been there, I think... I think you would have been proud."

But you're not proud, I thought. You're not anything actually. You're dead.

A tear trickled down my cheek. I made a failed attempt to brush away the invading wetness with the back of my hand. My lip quivered as I tried to hold on to my emotions. Giving into my sadness, I wepted silently.

Two warming cups of tea later, I stood up, wiped the dead leaves from my haori and adjusted my scarf. Screwing the lid back on my thermos, I tucked it and the towel into the folds of my black kosode. I sheathed my blade and gave the marker one last look.

I gave it a rub and turned away, walking down the path back towards the Seireitei. It wasn't like the marker was going anywheres. It would stay there; a little sentinel on the hill, overlooking a desolate structure that stood in the field I once called home. Slowly, as I walked away, and as if to reflect my own thoughts, the skies opened up and poured its own grief onto the earth below.