I felt oddly inspired, even as tired as I am after taking care of christmas festivities, managing to write several things, among them this. It hasn't been really cleaned up so I'd be grateful for any comments. I also have another chapter of Lotus and Operator 95% ready but I'm to tired to do anything about them now. So, comments appreciated.
Frozen ring.
Harry Potter/Bleach crossover fanfic.
Chapter 1 (batch 2 and 3 of 3)
*
He closed his eyes, savoring the sweet taste, Sweet, but not too much. However...
He popped one eye open, staring at the sun for a second, judging the heat. Hinamori was long gone and there were no witnesses around so...
The waterery fruit suddenly developed a slight sheen of frost.
'Ah yes. Now that's more like it.'
Hyorinmaru didn't even bother to growl at the "paltry use of his grand might" anymore. Though he always suspected that the dragon enjoyed the frosted watermelon as much as he did and most of his grumbling was just for show.
'So... Gotei 13.' The crackle of breaking ice scrapped at the edge of his thoughts
Hitsugaya Toshiro, both after his zanpakuto and his hair as well as a way to
chase away ghost of the past, bit into his watermelon.
'Maybe. I'm still thinking about it.' He thought
'Now don't play coy with me, brat. We both know you're pretty much committed.' said the dragon smugly
'You seem excited.' Toshiro thought savouring the frozen, watery treat.
'Shouldn't I be? All you seem to use me these days is freezing water melons and chasing away that oppressive summer heat. Some action would be a nice change.' the dragon grumbled.
Toshiro smirked.
'I distinctly remember hearing you say that if something needed to be frozen I should call you out.' he shot back
'But watermelons? WATERMELONS?! What am I, some glorified fridge or something?' complained Hyorinmaru 'I'm most the powerful ice type zanpakuto in existence, goddamit, and you have me freeze fruits and act as an air conditioning. This is humiliating. We haven't cut anything in so long that I though I would rust, if I didn't know any better.'
'I don't want to fight anymore. I had enough of it for one lifetime.' Toshiro closed his eyes, leaning on the post
'I want responsibility that comes with the job even less.'
'Oh don't give me that.' He could "feel" the dragon rolling his eyes, a distinctively odd expirience.
'Remember that last hollow rampage through Kusajishi? One when you went for those blue flowers for the Crybaby?'
It was the odd quirk of his, but the dragon refused to call Hinamori by name. Toshiro also had a feeling that despite not stating it openly, the beast had a strong dislike for his friend, though he had no idea why.
He asked once, but all he got was a wave of vaquely recognizable disgust after the dragon clammed up, refusing to answer the question.
It used to bug him, since the dragon WAS part of him, but in his years with Hyorinmaru as a companion he had learned that part of his soul the dragon might be, but there were differences. Glaring ones, sometimes.
'You were an inch from calling me out as you watched the shinigami deal with it. The dragon's smug voice brought him back to reality
'Maybe.'
'Yeah, and Nile is just a river in Egypt.' The beast snorted 'I could almost taste the urge. Hell, even the shinigami would have felt it if they weren't so busy getting their assess kicked.'
Toshiro wiped his mouth, scowling as he threw away the remains of the watermelon slice.
He wanted to say something, but the dragon was right.
He DID feel the urge to fight and it wasn't exactly the first time it had happened. Before coming to this rather sleepy, safe part of Rukongai, he had
traveled through the most lawless parts of Soul Society, where a small kid was a prime target. Of course the idiots that tried to attack him quickly wisened up after first few ended up as icicles, but the ocassional hollows that appeared on the edges of the Soul Society were drawn by his reiatsu until he had learned to hide it.
Learning how to do it was a trying expirience - not because it was hard, but because Toshiro found himslef with a strange need to fight, to draw his Zanpakuto and release it in the orgy of flaring energy and power against an opponent, any opponent. According to Hyorinmaru all shinigami had that urge, his was just that much stronger because of their deeper connection. Zanpakutos were, after all, weapons. It was in their nature. It was subtle, almost like a whispering of a slow moving current most of the time but once it rose it's head, it was a difficult beast to tame.
'They won't let you wander around aimlessly like that much longer.'
Said Hyorinmaru lazily. 'Once the Seiretei discovers that you have a zanpakuto they won't stop until they get you. And once they discover that you have the shikai, they'll drag you kicking and screaming. So why fight it?' whispered the dragon enticingly. 'And you'll be able to protect the Crybaby better this way, you know.'
'Oh shut up, you bloody reptile!' Toshiro snarled mentally 'You made your point.'
Toshiro was torn. On one hand, he didn't want to fight, and becoming a shinigami would mean going back to the battlefield. Vastly different one than the one he was on when he still lived, but still a battlefield. And he was sick of battle. Of fighting, of losing loved ones and all that went with it.
Even a few years (if he judged time correctly - it was rather hard to
do that in Soul Society) spent just drifting and, later on, settling in the rukongai didn't wash away the fatigue of his past life. Also, there was the matter of his zanpakuto.
He wasn't like others others - training to so much as learn their zanpakuto's name. He had Hyorinmaru since the beginning. He didn't strive to coax the weapon through spiritual devices Academy used to turn the latent spiritual powers into proper shinigami power. He didn't need to wait for years and train like crazy to coax the zanpakuto's spirit to so much as talk to him.
His bond with Hyorinmaru was clear and ran very deep, a side effect of their first shikai. He was so attuned to his dragon that they spoke on a regular basis without entering their Inner World. Something - he was shocked to find after listening to a few shinigami bragging about their prowess - that was usually achieved after centuries of working with the zanpakuto.
Once he entered the Academy, he would be lauded as a prodigy, a genius and whatnot. He would be put on a pedestal, be in center of attention and be expected to do 'great things' once again.
He had quite enough of that the first time around, thank you.
On the other hand, Hyorinmaru had a point. Gotei 13 was always on the
look out for potential recruits. The job was dangerous and shinigami
died often, leaving vacancies that needed to be replaced quickly,
which was problematic at best.
Even among the pure souls gathered in Soul Society and unfettered by human bodies that tended to stifle the spiritual potential, only a handful had enough of spiritual energy to become even a low level shinigami. Somebody like him, with his own zapakuto, considerable reiatsu and already manifested shikai?
Had he not learned to hide his power early he would have been drafted to
Gotei 13 faster than it took to say 'Hyorinmaru'. It was a mediocre level of self-taught skill and plenty of luck some shinigami didn't manage to find out his potential. One day he would slip up his luck would run out or he would have the misfortune to attract some attention and he would be drafted anyway. And if he went now, he would be able to protect Momo.
It wasn't that his bed-wetter friend was weak. Far from it. The girl had an impressive amount of reiatsu hidden in that slender frame of hers and she had a knack for more esoteric aspect of shinigami powers.
She was competent, hard working, intelligent and immensely talented in kidou. He had no doubt that she would do very well in Gotei 13.
But for all her potential, the girl had a glaring weakness. She was kind hearted, soft and naive. She always wanted to see the best in people and firmly believed in the world was just and people kind. She was the type that would reason rather than fight. She lacked the edge, that deeply buried killer instinct that was so vital to a true warrior.
Her intelligence and belief in justice and her inner softness and kindness reminded him of himself, or rather the Harry Potter from before. So much like him before he had lost so much and died.
But even before his death, his good will and belief in "right, light and justice" had been eroding with each day as the world got darker and people kept dying all around him regardless of what he did.
His death and subsequent wandering through the lawless, dangerous fringes of Soul Society only sped up the process. He had realized just how much he had changed after cutting down a bandit that fancied taking Hyorinmaru from him.
Toshiro was just a nickname given to him by the scared thugs of Zaraki
because of his white hair, a nickname that he used to hate but... He had slowly realized that he was more "Toshiro", the sarcastic, somewhat aloof white haired brat that smarter Zaraki thugs avoided like a plague with a big, outspoken mystical sword than he ever was a "Harry Potter" the would-be hero with 'saving people thing', heaps of guilt, destiny he didn't want and a wand in his hand.
It wasn't just the death of that one worthless thug that Zaraki had a countless supply of. It was his attitude after it.
The man was big, strong and obviously had some practice with that rusty cleaver of his, but his muscles and steel were only things he had. Toshiro had a large reiatsu reserve that, even as unskilled as he was in using it, boosted his speed, strength and reflexes to flat out supernatural levels and a sword that was unnaturally sharp, all of it's power aside. There were several ways of handling the man without killing him. He didn't even consider them. He just responded to the lethal attack with equally lethal intent and cut the man down
where he stood. Then he sheathed the Hyorinmaru and walked away.
Just. Like. That.
And that was when the thought hit him. He just wasn't very "Harry Potter" anymore. Maybe he never was, instead of being himself he just went along with what other thought of him or expected of him for the most of his life. Now, un shackled by - oh irony - death, he had finally found himself.
It had also made him realize that it was the first time he had thought of his past life and what he left behind since he died.
*
The top of the gnarly fishing rod, though held lazily in hands almost as gnarled as the rod itself didn't waver despite the blowing wind or fast current. It kept it's position with sort of careless grace until it moved slightly, almost too gently for the naked eye to spot. But the pair of half lidded eyes, countless wrinkles around them, didn't miss the twitch. in matter of seconds, yet another fish was brought out from the water.
"Now that is quite the dilemma." The voice was almost archetypically "old man", but you wouldn't find gentle "grandfatherly" tone in it, though it was cheerful in it's own way.
Toshiro sighed, combing his unruly, snow white mane with his palm.
"You can say that again." He muttered sullenly "I just don't know what to do.
I don't want to be a shinigami. Not really. I've had enough of fighting. I'm content with how things are now. But... They WILL find out sooner or later. And if I go now, I might be able to protect Hinamori. And do it on my own terms, more or less. It's just... It's too soon. I thought I had more time."
The old man cackled.
"When you get to my age, you will find that there is never enough time. Even when you're dead."
"Well you don't seem to have problems goofing off, old man." Toshiro waved his hand lazily "Sun, nice spot by the river, some campfire and plenty of time to fish. Come to think of it, that's pretty much all I see you doing when I meet you. Well that and sleeping. Don't you have anything else to do?
The fishing rod somehow found the way to his head with unerring precision.
"I have you know, you disrespectful runt, that I am not goofing off."
The old man said indignantly "I'm thinking."
"That's what you call sleeping nowadays? Could have fooled me." Toshiro rubbed his head with a wince
Rod? Meet head. Head? Meet rod.
'One of this days I'll buy a helmet before I'll come to see him.'
Toshiro thought with a scowl. 'Or better yet, I'll whap him around with Hyorinmaru, see how he likes it. Sadistic old bugger.'
Despite that, Toshiro found himself liking the ancient man since he had met him so many years ago when he moved to Rukongai. At first he thought it was because the old bugger reminded him of Dumbledore, but then he realised that it was the other way around. He liked the old man because he was so much UN-like the venerable Headmaster.
Both men were old, white haired from age and wrinkled like prunes, but that's were the similarities ended.
Dumbledore, for all of his friendly facade and "grandfatherly" concern always made sure to be seen as an authority figure. He carried an all knowing air of command that, Toshiro realized later, was carefully cultivated. He might have made himself more approachable to common folk, the occasional bouts of silliness making him appear more human but in the end, he was the Headmaster of Hogwarts, the Supreme Mugwump, the Grand Sorcerer and the most powerful wizard alive. He was Albus Percival Wulfric Dumbledore and he knew best. And he never, ever, let anyone forget it.
Yama-ji, on the other hand, was vastly different. And it wasn't just because he was a sadist and struck Toshiro with his fishing pole or that gnarled monstrosity he used as a staff whenever he felt like it.
Yama-ji had, like Dumbledore, an air of command around him, an air of power and knowledge. What kind of power, Toshiro wasn't sure since he never felt any reiatsu from the man. Though his skill WAS self taught and crude.
Still, on their first meeting with the old fisherman, Hyorinmaru went oddly silent and didn't so much as twitch even when the man had whapped him with his cane for "lack of respect to his elders". And THAT, Toshiro knew, was very odd.
The dragon was fiercely protective of him and his status and tended to rage at anyone who attacked or slighted him, demanding to be let out to "teach the soon-to-be-decased fool a lesson". Instead of doing his "I'm pissed of Dragon, hear me roar" routine, Hyorinmaru was silent like a tomb and only thing that Hitsugaya got from his companion was a vaque feeling that the old man was far more than what he appeared. And that whatever he was was NOT to be annoyed.
But whatever power Yama-ji had, he didn't flaunt it. He didn't even so much as HINT on it, as Dumbledore was so fond of doing, reminding people just who they were dealing with. Yama-ji just... was.
"Yes... Quite the dilemma..." The old man said nodding to himself
"Though not in a way you think." He added, gazing at his fishing rod ruefully, before untying the fishing line from the top.
Hitsugaya didn't know how it happened. He knew even less of WHEN.
He had been sitting by the river, next to Yama-ji in one instant to realize duddenly that he just hit something. Then he realized that his chest hurt.
It took several seconds to realise that the something he had hit was a boulder that was good several meters away from his previous position and that he had growing, red mark on his chest that looked oddly like the outline of Yama-ji's fishing rod.
Toshiro stared at the angry welt dumbly. It was a miracle the strike didn't break any ribs.
'What... What was...?'
"To become or not become a shinigami..." Yama-ji drawled as he rose up. "As if a coward like you has any right to decide... As if somebody with such weak resolve has any right to talk..." Slowly, the usually half lidded eyes opened and Toshiro knew what dread was like.
Screw the Bassilissk.
Voldemort? A harmless gnat at best.
Dying? Toshiro would die again a hundred times it it allowed him to escape the mercilles, heavy gaze and the absurd amount of force that pushed him to the ground like a giant, invisible hand.
The very air was heavy with pressure and despite his best intentions, Toshiro found that he not only couldn't move, frozen to the spot by both terror and the overwhelming power but suddenly, even breathing was a luxury.
Old, cranky, perverted and lazy Yama-ji towered over him like a GOD, seemingly hundreds meters tall and powerful beyond mortal comprehension.
"Brat... KNOW YOUR PLACE!" The old man thundered, his eyes full of contempt.
Suddenly Toshiro knew just why his dragon companion was so wary.
If there ever was an incarnation of unstoppable force, Yama-ji was it.
"You think that your zanpakuto makes you better? Stronger? More powerful?" Yama snorted "Look at you... a little bit of focused reiatsu and you fall to pieces. Frozen in place... Almost wetting yourself in fear... Where is your great zapakuto now... little boy?"
With lazy nonchalance, the fishing rod rose before it fell down, hitting the earth, the pure force moving the air with power to create a wind that nearly swept Toshiro away.
He stared, still frozen with fear.
The solid ground had just... split open. Like wet tissue paper cut by a ginsu knife. From one strike.
And now...
Toshiro's eyes opened wide and if it was possible, the absolute dread he felt started growing steadily.
With slow, purposeful stride, the old man was getting closer to him. And the rod was rising once again.
'He... he won't...'
But the rod didn't stop it's ascent, and the eyes were hard, the dread unstoppable.
'He will.. he will... he will kill me!' Toshiro thought, the utter mind breaking terror of this force of nature turned man only thing on his mind
'I must escape! I must RUN! But I can't move! I must move or I will DIE!'
Blind panic tuned out everything else. Only survival mattered now. But no matter how much he tried, how much he strained his will and how much reiatsu he flooded his body with, his body was still in the same spot.
Shaking.
Sweating.
But still frozen in the same spot.
'OH GOD I CAN'T MOVE!' howled his panicked mind
'ICAN'TMOVEICAN'TMOVEI'CANTMOVEI'MGOINGTODIE!'
"Not so easy now, is it?" said Yama-ji, his conversational tone at odds with his cold eyes, purposeful gait and the deadly intent radiating off him in waves.
"I can see them you now... Your thoughts, that is." His hard eyes seemed to gaze deep inside Toshiro's very soul.
"'I must move... or I will get hit.'.... 'I must escape... or he will crush me.', 'I must run... or I will die. But I can't move. I'm going to die.' Is that it?" The old man shook his head slowly, never stopping, never missing a step.
"Don't you see? This is the difference between a shinigami and a brat with zanpakuto and some reiatsu to spare. The shinigami has more than just empty power... He has will... He has resolve and belief... Enough of them to stand and fight despite the odds. And you lack any of those qualities." Yama sighed ruefully, his oppressive presence still relentless
"The world hurt you, so you closed yourself off like a coward instead facing it. The power burned you so you let it rust instead of mastering what you have, becoming stagnant and weak. The duty crushed you... so you shirk it instead of simply getting stronger." his face hardened, eyes lit with reddish glint for a moment as he stared at Toshiro with mix of disgust, pity, contempt, anger and sadness.
"Hitsugaya Toshiro... No. Harry Potter. You are truly pathetic." he intoned. And all Toshiro could see was the wooden blur and darkness.
*
The howl might have been different, more of a mournfull whine than mighty scream but Toshiro knew where he was before he opened his eyes.
He opened his eyes lazily to see the frozen firmament of his inner world.
'Well... at least I'm not dead...'
"Still thinking like that even now... The old man was right. You really ARE pathetic." The growl was raspy as always but this time it carried clear undercurrent of anger.
The sound of icy desert breaking and exploding all around him as the enormous serpentine form lashed out with it's tail was more than enough to see that the beast was more than just a little pissed off however.
"WELL?" The dragon hissed, it's enormous maw scant centimeters from Toshiro's face "Will you keep lying here like a pathetic coward, too afraid to so much as twitch like you did in the outside world?!
"Like you're the one to talk." Toshiro said closing his eyes again tiredly "I don't remember you coming out to help."
"YOU FOOL!" The dragon roared and struck the ice around his wielder and catapulting him up, the numerous shards, usually harmless bitting into white haired ex-wizard's form.
Toshiro stared at the ice burred in his palms and forearms dumbly, too shocked to even feel the pain.
'What...?' he thought dumbly 'But that's impossible... Hyorinmaru can't hurt me!'
"AWAKE NOW?!" The crimson pools gazed down at the shocked wizard as the beast hissed "What the FUCK are you thinking?! ARE you even thinking in the first place?! Does you puny little brain even realise just what you just allowed that old fucker to do?! LOOK AROUND YOU GODDAMN FOOL!"
Still not quite over the sock of his companion managing to just do the impossible, he shut up and did as he was ordered.
And almost fell to his knees.
The icy desert of his inner world was something that most would view as harsh and desolate place. Full of jagged, frozen spires, snow and howling wind blowing through frozen sky, it wasn't exactly what one would call hospitable. But it was beautiful in it's own, harsh way and it's very sight felt oddly comforting to him.
Now, the ice of majestic spires was cracked, broken and...
Toshiro swallowed hard.
...melted. So was the rest of the desert, for that matter. Mangled, melted and broken.
There was no beauty here. Just destruction and ugliness that brought hollow despair to his heart with a glance alone.
"How...?" He whispered, looking back to dragon.
"With his words, his power and your own fucking indecision and lack of faith... He broke you. He broke your will. He broke this place. Are you happy now?" The dragon snarled "You never wanted power... Always threw it away, neglected it, stunted your own growth... Always shunned my gift.. detested it even at some level... Well then... Now you won't have to worry about it anymore." The beast said bitterly
"What the hell are you talking about?" Toshiro scowled "So the old man kicked me around... Big deal. it's not exactly first time we got our assess kicked. Remember Kenpachi? We got over that then, we'll get over it now.
"DON'T.YOU.FUCKING.SEE?" Hyorimaru ground out slowly "Are your perceptions THAT fucking off? The old man is litterally suffocating your reiatsu with his own. Without any true focus to hold it together... Without any resolve... He will close the power off completely. Seal it so deep inside you that you'll NEVER hear my voice anymore... Or come here again."
"...WHAT?!"
The dragon just stared at him sullenly and Toshiro felt himself going numb.
Hyorinmaru was an annoying bastard most of the time. The dragon was arrogant, aggressive and vicious creature and what passed for his sense of humor usually spelled the trouble for anybody involved, Toshiro included. But...
He also was part of his soul and Toshiro could without exaggeration admit that without the beast's help and aggressive nature he would have never survived his first months in Zaraki. And as annoying as he might have been, the dragon was also plenty fun to talk with and have around. He also was a companion and... a friend.
Not to hear Hyorinmaru's voice anymore... Not to have the comforting weight if it's blade in hand... No.
Just no.
Not now.
Not ever.
Over his dead and bloody FROZEN body.
Had he looked around, he would notice the desolate desert stop it's slow descent into melted mess. The spires were still broken and cracked, true. But out of the snowy ground several small, nearly un-noticeable tips started to show their points.
Once again some one was deciding for him. Once again somebody made the decision that was HIS to make.
Toshiro growled, his high voice disturbingly similar to Hyorinmaru's raspy growl. The voice of a rising snow storm, of howling mountain wind of avalanche growing from a single frozen petal and of lake freezing in an instant.
The old man... Man who he though was his friend... With a glance he turned him into a quivering, helpless mess.
HELPLESS.
HIM.
Wielder of Hyorinmaru. Man who had more reiatsu than most Gotei 13 platoons.
He wanted to take Hyorinmaru from him. He wanted to make him helpless again.
He wanted to make him weak.
He remembered being weak. He remembered feeling fear day in and day out. Seeing others die was bad... But the fear, the constant, acidic taste of fear, of terror ruling your life... Was the worst.
"NO."
Hyorinmaru could feel his icy eyebrows rising up in amazement before his toothy maw stretched in a savage, bone chilling grin.
If anybody listened to the boy now they wouldn't have found any difference between dragon's mighty roar and the white haired boy's timbre.
*
Yamamoto Genryusai Shigekuni almost felt like like sighing as he slowed his strike just enough to knock the child out instead of killing him. Though death might be seen as mercy in his case. To have a part of your soul sealed...
Still, this was for the best. He had known of the boy ever since he had come to Soul Society. After all, manifesting a zanpakuto of that power wasn't something he could overlook. He allowed the boy to do as he pleased for some time, watching over him and even befriending him when he came to inner Rukongai. He didn't need to, but the boy was amusing to watch and the old commander-general geniuinly liked the sarcastic, slightly scathing humor displayed by the the brat. Even with his zanpakuto, Yamamoto decided to wait before inducting the boy into Gotei 13. He had high hopes for him, very high hopes indeed.
With his powerful zapakuto, quick mind and obvious power the boy was a definite captain material. One of the best to come around in centuries, in fact. With some training, seasoning and guidance the boy might soon be a second Shunsui or Ukitake without too much trouble.
He had such high hopes... Only to have them crushed when the boy failed like that. Captain potential or no, he simply couldn't have somebody like that become a shinigami. It seemed he had misjudged the lad's character after all.
If he had less power, less potential, then he would let the matter slide.
The lad would be an excellent addition to purely combat units, like Eleventh or Sixth division, and would be kept firmly under control. But a captain with that kind of attitude? The Academy wouldn't straighten him out, he was already too powerful for most of the instructors and would gain skill quickly. And once in the Gotei 13 proper, he would grow in power as well.
No.
This was the only way.
Maybe if the lad learned his lesson sometime later in his life, he would help him unseal his power, but even then, he would never be as powerful as he could have been.
For a brief moment, before the rod hit, Yamamoto felt each and every day out of many centuries that made up his life and closed his yes.
Only to open them in surprise when he felt the rod hitting something far more solid than flesh and bone.
The boy was still on his knees, his face still bowed but between his head and the rod there was a gleaming edge of an unusually long katana.
"My. Name. Is. HITSUGAYA. TOSHIRO." the boy growled out, pushing the rod away from his head with each word.
Yamamoto flash stepped back when the blade finally cut the wood and his eyebrows shot up a tad.
Sure, it was wood but he had been pouring some reaitsu in it. For the boy to not only nick it, but actually cut it...
Yamamoto looked at the white haired child carefully.
The boy was standing now, despite the fact that amount of power he was putting out would knock any low level shinigami by it's presence alone. Unlike before, his reiatsu was easily repelled, the boy's own spiritual power pushing out into visible, icy blue spectrum.
Yamamoto smiled behind his beard.
The boy just might have what it takes to go the distance, after all.
Still, he needed to make sure.
"Well then, Hitsugaya Toshiro. Since you were kind enough to give me your name, I can't do any less, can I?" he shrugged his haori off, letting it fall and took out the Ryujinjakka from behind his obi, allowing it to take on it's true form of a long katana, not unlike the boy's own. The blades were, in fact, almost disturbingly similar.
"I am Yamamoto Genryusai Shigekuni. General of Seiretei's armed forces and Commander-General of Gotei 13." He was old, powerful and skilled. He didn't need to unseal his zanpakuto to show it. Of course, that meant less power, but he didn't want to crush the boy. Just to test him.
"That is very impressive youngster. You standing there, that is." he said, opening his eyes fully, allowing bits of his true power to shine through. This ammount of reiatsu left most non-seated shinigami blubbering wrecks. The boy didn't even so much as twitch.
'Very impressive.' He thought, his respect for the child rising a notch
"But tell me... Is your that extent of your resolve. Just standing there?" Yamamoto asked, rising an eyebrow quisically "Or can you actually move?"
The boy raised up his head, and the old shinigami could see his eyes for the first time.
It took all he had to keep his composure instead of breaking out sake bottles and cackling in triumph.
They were two pools of focused, deadly jade, positively glowing with power.
"Hey... Old man...?" Toshiro said slowly "Your reiatsu... It has a very distinctive smell... One of ash and brimstone. That zanpakuto of yours... It's fire, isn't it?
Yamamoto's eyebrows shot up. To feel the nature of a sealed zanpakuto... The boy was truly amazingly gifted. Last person to reach that level was Urahara.
"And if it is?"
The boy chuckled softly and his reiatsu started to lick his frame, liting it and the blade balanced on his shoulder with bluish sparks.
Yamamoto looked with interest as the very ground around the young would-be shinigami and even the nearby river started to freeze slowly before the boy so much as brought out his shikai.
Yamamoto looked on with a degree of fascination as the boy's eyes started to gain slitted, reptilian pupils and his voice dropped into raspy growl with each word.
"It's just that, you know... Hyorinmaru and I... We HATE fire."
*
Comments?
EDIT: Okay, this is MOSTLY cleaned up version. Typos, some grammar issues and little bit of formatting. Other than any mistakes that still remain, this is pretty much as close to final version as it gets. I'm going to leave this for a while and concentrate on chapter two and other fics for now. And there is still rest of Revenant to edit.
Frozen ring.
Harry Potter/Bleach crossover fanfic.
Chapter 1 (batch 2 and 3 of 3)
*
He closed his eyes, savoring the sweet taste, Sweet, but not too much. However...
He popped one eye open, staring at the sun for a second, judging the heat. Hinamori was long gone and there were no witnesses around so...
The waterery fruit suddenly developed a slight sheen of frost.
'Ah yes. Now that's more like it.'
Hyorinmaru didn't even bother to growl at the "paltry use of his grand might" anymore. Though he always suspected that the dragon enjoyed the frosted watermelon as much as he did and most of his grumbling was just for show.
'So... Gotei 13.' The crackle of breaking ice scrapped at the edge of his thoughts
Hitsugaya Toshiro, both after his zanpakuto and his hair as well as a way to
chase away ghost of the past, bit into his watermelon.
'Maybe. I'm still thinking about it.' He thought
'Now don't play coy with me, brat. We both know you're pretty much committed.' said the dragon smugly
'You seem excited.' Toshiro thought savouring the frozen, watery treat.
'Shouldn't I be? All you seem to use me these days is freezing water melons and chasing away that oppressive summer heat. Some action would be a nice change.' the dragon grumbled.
Toshiro smirked.
'I distinctly remember hearing you say that if something needed to be frozen I should call you out.' he shot back
'But watermelons? WATERMELONS?! What am I, some glorified fridge or something?' complained Hyorinmaru 'I'm most the powerful ice type zanpakuto in existence, goddamit, and you have me freeze fruits and act as an air conditioning. This is humiliating. We haven't cut anything in so long that I though I would rust, if I didn't know any better.'
'I don't want to fight anymore. I had enough of it for one lifetime.' Toshiro closed his eyes, leaning on the post
'I want responsibility that comes with the job even less.'
'Oh don't give me that.' He could "feel" the dragon rolling his eyes, a distinctively odd expirience.
'Remember that last hollow rampage through Kusajishi? One when you went for those blue flowers for the Crybaby?'
It was the odd quirk of his, but the dragon refused to call Hinamori by name. Toshiro also had a feeling that despite not stating it openly, the beast had a strong dislike for his friend, though he had no idea why.
He asked once, but all he got was a wave of vaquely recognizable disgust after the dragon clammed up, refusing to answer the question.
It used to bug him, since the dragon WAS part of him, but in his years with Hyorinmaru as a companion he had learned that part of his soul the dragon might be, but there were differences. Glaring ones, sometimes.
'You were an inch from calling me out as you watched the shinigami deal with it. The dragon's smug voice brought him back to reality
'Maybe.'
'Yeah, and Nile is just a river in Egypt.' The beast snorted 'I could almost taste the urge. Hell, even the shinigami would have felt it if they weren't so busy getting their assess kicked.'
Toshiro wiped his mouth, scowling as he threw away the remains of the watermelon slice.
He wanted to say something, but the dragon was right.
He DID feel the urge to fight and it wasn't exactly the first time it had happened. Before coming to this rather sleepy, safe part of Rukongai, he had
traveled through the most lawless parts of Soul Society, where a small kid was a prime target. Of course the idiots that tried to attack him quickly wisened up after first few ended up as icicles, but the ocassional hollows that appeared on the edges of the Soul Society were drawn by his reiatsu until he had learned to hide it.
Learning how to do it was a trying expirience - not because it was hard, but because Toshiro found himslef with a strange need to fight, to draw his Zanpakuto and release it in the orgy of flaring energy and power against an opponent, any opponent. According to Hyorinmaru all shinigami had that urge, his was just that much stronger because of their deeper connection. Zanpakutos were, after all, weapons. It was in their nature. It was subtle, almost like a whispering of a slow moving current most of the time but once it rose it's head, it was a difficult beast to tame.
'They won't let you wander around aimlessly like that much longer.'
Said Hyorinmaru lazily. 'Once the Seiretei discovers that you have a zanpakuto they won't stop until they get you. And once they discover that you have the shikai, they'll drag you kicking and screaming. So why fight it?' whispered the dragon enticingly. 'And you'll be able to protect the Crybaby better this way, you know.'
'Oh shut up, you bloody reptile!' Toshiro snarled mentally 'You made your point.'
Toshiro was torn. On one hand, he didn't want to fight, and becoming a shinigami would mean going back to the battlefield. Vastly different one than the one he was on when he still lived, but still a battlefield. And he was sick of battle. Of fighting, of losing loved ones and all that went with it.
Even a few years (if he judged time correctly - it was rather hard to
do that in Soul Society) spent just drifting and, later on, settling in the rukongai didn't wash away the fatigue of his past life. Also, there was the matter of his zanpakuto.
He wasn't like others others - training to so much as learn their zanpakuto's name. He had Hyorinmaru since the beginning. He didn't strive to coax the weapon through spiritual devices Academy used to turn the latent spiritual powers into proper shinigami power. He didn't need to wait for years and train like crazy to coax the zanpakuto's spirit to so much as talk to him.
His bond with Hyorinmaru was clear and ran very deep, a side effect of their first shikai. He was so attuned to his dragon that they spoke on a regular basis without entering their Inner World. Something - he was shocked to find after listening to a few shinigami bragging about their prowess - that was usually achieved after centuries of working with the zanpakuto.
Once he entered the Academy, he would be lauded as a prodigy, a genius and whatnot. He would be put on a pedestal, be in center of attention and be expected to do 'great things' once again.
He had quite enough of that the first time around, thank you.
On the other hand, Hyorinmaru had a point. Gotei 13 was always on the
look out for potential recruits. The job was dangerous and shinigami
died often, leaving vacancies that needed to be replaced quickly,
which was problematic at best.
Even among the pure souls gathered in Soul Society and unfettered by human bodies that tended to stifle the spiritual potential, only a handful had enough of spiritual energy to become even a low level shinigami. Somebody like him, with his own zapakuto, considerable reiatsu and already manifested shikai?
Had he not learned to hide his power early he would have been drafted to
Gotei 13 faster than it took to say 'Hyorinmaru'. It was a mediocre level of self-taught skill and plenty of luck some shinigami didn't manage to find out his potential. One day he would slip up his luck would run out or he would have the misfortune to attract some attention and he would be drafted anyway. And if he went now, he would be able to protect Momo.
It wasn't that his bed-wetter friend was weak. Far from it. The girl had an impressive amount of reiatsu hidden in that slender frame of hers and she had a knack for more esoteric aspect of shinigami powers.
She was competent, hard working, intelligent and immensely talented in kidou. He had no doubt that she would do very well in Gotei 13.
But for all her potential, the girl had a glaring weakness. She was kind hearted, soft and naive. She always wanted to see the best in people and firmly believed in the world was just and people kind. She was the type that would reason rather than fight. She lacked the edge, that deeply buried killer instinct that was so vital to a true warrior.
Her intelligence and belief in justice and her inner softness and kindness reminded him of himself, or rather the Harry Potter from before. So much like him before he had lost so much and died.
But even before his death, his good will and belief in "right, light and justice" had been eroding with each day as the world got darker and people kept dying all around him regardless of what he did.
His death and subsequent wandering through the lawless, dangerous fringes of Soul Society only sped up the process. He had realized just how much he had changed after cutting down a bandit that fancied taking Hyorinmaru from him.
Toshiro was just a nickname given to him by the scared thugs of Zaraki
because of his white hair, a nickname that he used to hate but... He had slowly realized that he was more "Toshiro", the sarcastic, somewhat aloof white haired brat that smarter Zaraki thugs avoided like a plague with a big, outspoken mystical sword than he ever was a "Harry Potter" the would-be hero with 'saving people thing', heaps of guilt, destiny he didn't want and a wand in his hand.
It wasn't just the death of that one worthless thug that Zaraki had a countless supply of. It was his attitude after it.
The man was big, strong and obviously had some practice with that rusty cleaver of his, but his muscles and steel were only things he had. Toshiro had a large reiatsu reserve that, even as unskilled as he was in using it, boosted his speed, strength and reflexes to flat out supernatural levels and a sword that was unnaturally sharp, all of it's power aside. There were several ways of handling the man without killing him. He didn't even consider them. He just responded to the lethal attack with equally lethal intent and cut the man down
where he stood. Then he sheathed the Hyorinmaru and walked away.
Just. Like. That.
And that was when the thought hit him. He just wasn't very "Harry Potter" anymore. Maybe he never was, instead of being himself he just went along with what other thought of him or expected of him for the most of his life. Now, un shackled by - oh irony - death, he had finally found himself.
It had also made him realize that it was the first time he had thought of his past life and what he left behind since he died.
*
The top of the gnarly fishing rod, though held lazily in hands almost as gnarled as the rod itself didn't waver despite the blowing wind or fast current. It kept it's position with sort of careless grace until it moved slightly, almost too gently for the naked eye to spot. But the pair of half lidded eyes, countless wrinkles around them, didn't miss the twitch. in matter of seconds, yet another fish was brought out from the water.
"Now that is quite the dilemma." The voice was almost archetypically "old man", but you wouldn't find gentle "grandfatherly" tone in it, though it was cheerful in it's own way.
Toshiro sighed, combing his unruly, snow white mane with his palm.
"You can say that again." He muttered sullenly "I just don't know what to do.
I don't want to be a shinigami. Not really. I've had enough of fighting. I'm content with how things are now. But... They WILL find out sooner or later. And if I go now, I might be able to protect Hinamori. And do it on my own terms, more or less. It's just... It's too soon. I thought I had more time."
The old man cackled.
"When you get to my age, you will find that there is never enough time. Even when you're dead."
"Well you don't seem to have problems goofing off, old man." Toshiro waved his hand lazily "Sun, nice spot by the river, some campfire and plenty of time to fish. Come to think of it, that's pretty much all I see you doing when I meet you. Well that and sleeping. Don't you have anything else to do?
The fishing rod somehow found the way to his head with unerring precision.
"I have you know, you disrespectful runt, that I am not goofing off."
The old man said indignantly "I'm thinking."
"That's what you call sleeping nowadays? Could have fooled me." Toshiro rubbed his head with a wince
Rod? Meet head. Head? Meet rod.
'One of this days I'll buy a helmet before I'll come to see him.'
Toshiro thought with a scowl. 'Or better yet, I'll whap him around with Hyorinmaru, see how he likes it. Sadistic old bugger.'
Despite that, Toshiro found himself liking the ancient man since he had met him so many years ago when he moved to Rukongai. At first he thought it was because the old bugger reminded him of Dumbledore, but then he realised that it was the other way around. He liked the old man because he was so much UN-like the venerable Headmaster.
Both men were old, white haired from age and wrinkled like prunes, but that's were the similarities ended.
Dumbledore, for all of his friendly facade and "grandfatherly" concern always made sure to be seen as an authority figure. He carried an all knowing air of command that, Toshiro realized later, was carefully cultivated. He might have made himself more approachable to common folk, the occasional bouts of silliness making him appear more human but in the end, he was the Headmaster of Hogwarts, the Supreme Mugwump, the Grand Sorcerer and the most powerful wizard alive. He was Albus Percival Wulfric Dumbledore and he knew best. And he never, ever, let anyone forget it.
Yama-ji, on the other hand, was vastly different. And it wasn't just because he was a sadist and struck Toshiro with his fishing pole or that gnarled monstrosity he used as a staff whenever he felt like it.
Yama-ji had, like Dumbledore, an air of command around him, an air of power and knowledge. What kind of power, Toshiro wasn't sure since he never felt any reiatsu from the man. Though his skill WAS self taught and crude.
Still, on their first meeting with the old fisherman, Hyorinmaru went oddly silent and didn't so much as twitch even when the man had whapped him with his cane for "lack of respect to his elders". And THAT, Toshiro knew, was very odd.
The dragon was fiercely protective of him and his status and tended to rage at anyone who attacked or slighted him, demanding to be let out to "teach the soon-to-be-decased fool a lesson". Instead of doing his "I'm pissed of Dragon, hear me roar" routine, Hyorinmaru was silent like a tomb and only thing that Hitsugaya got from his companion was a vaque feeling that the old man was far more than what he appeared. And that whatever he was was NOT to be annoyed.
But whatever power Yama-ji had, he didn't flaunt it. He didn't even so much as HINT on it, as Dumbledore was so fond of doing, reminding people just who they were dealing with. Yama-ji just... was.
"Yes... Quite the dilemma..." The old man said nodding to himself
"Though not in a way you think." He added, gazing at his fishing rod ruefully, before untying the fishing line from the top.
Hitsugaya didn't know how it happened. He knew even less of WHEN.
He had been sitting by the river, next to Yama-ji in one instant to realize duddenly that he just hit something. Then he realized that his chest hurt.
It took several seconds to realise that the something he had hit was a boulder that was good several meters away from his previous position and that he had growing, red mark on his chest that looked oddly like the outline of Yama-ji's fishing rod.
Toshiro stared at the angry welt dumbly. It was a miracle the strike didn't break any ribs.
'What... What was...?'
"To become or not become a shinigami..." Yama-ji drawled as he rose up. "As if a coward like you has any right to decide... As if somebody with such weak resolve has any right to talk..." Slowly, the usually half lidded eyes opened and Toshiro knew what dread was like.
Screw the Bassilissk.
Voldemort? A harmless gnat at best.
Dying? Toshiro would die again a hundred times it it allowed him to escape the mercilles, heavy gaze and the absurd amount of force that pushed him to the ground like a giant, invisible hand.
The very air was heavy with pressure and despite his best intentions, Toshiro found that he not only couldn't move, frozen to the spot by both terror and the overwhelming power but suddenly, even breathing was a luxury.
Old, cranky, perverted and lazy Yama-ji towered over him like a GOD, seemingly hundreds meters tall and powerful beyond mortal comprehension.
"Brat... KNOW YOUR PLACE!" The old man thundered, his eyes full of contempt.
Suddenly Toshiro knew just why his dragon companion was so wary.
If there ever was an incarnation of unstoppable force, Yama-ji was it.
"You think that your zanpakuto makes you better? Stronger? More powerful?" Yama snorted "Look at you... a little bit of focused reiatsu and you fall to pieces. Frozen in place... Almost wetting yourself in fear... Where is your great zapakuto now... little boy?"
With lazy nonchalance, the fishing rod rose before it fell down, hitting the earth, the pure force moving the air with power to create a wind that nearly swept Toshiro away.
He stared, still frozen with fear.
The solid ground had just... split open. Like wet tissue paper cut by a ginsu knife. From one strike.
And now...
Toshiro's eyes opened wide and if it was possible, the absolute dread he felt started growing steadily.
With slow, purposeful stride, the old man was getting closer to him. And the rod was rising once again.
'He... he won't...'
But the rod didn't stop it's ascent, and the eyes were hard, the dread unstoppable.
'He will.. he will... he will kill me!' Toshiro thought, the utter mind breaking terror of this force of nature turned man only thing on his mind
'I must escape! I must RUN! But I can't move! I must move or I will DIE!'
Blind panic tuned out everything else. Only survival mattered now. But no matter how much he tried, how much he strained his will and how much reiatsu he flooded his body with, his body was still in the same spot.
Shaking.
Sweating.
But still frozen in the same spot.
'OH GOD I CAN'T MOVE!' howled his panicked mind
'ICAN'TMOVEICAN'TMOVEI'CANTMOVEI'MGOINGTODIE!'
"Not so easy now, is it?" said Yama-ji, his conversational tone at odds with his cold eyes, purposeful gait and the deadly intent radiating off him in waves.
"I can see them you now... Your thoughts, that is." His hard eyes seemed to gaze deep inside Toshiro's very soul.
"'I must move... or I will get hit.'.... 'I must escape... or he will crush me.', 'I must run... or I will die. But I can't move. I'm going to die.' Is that it?" The old man shook his head slowly, never stopping, never missing a step.
"Don't you see? This is the difference between a shinigami and a brat with zanpakuto and some reiatsu to spare. The shinigami has more than just empty power... He has will... He has resolve and belief... Enough of them to stand and fight despite the odds. And you lack any of those qualities." Yama sighed ruefully, his oppressive presence still relentless
"The world hurt you, so you closed yourself off like a coward instead facing it. The power burned you so you let it rust instead of mastering what you have, becoming stagnant and weak. The duty crushed you... so you shirk it instead of simply getting stronger." his face hardened, eyes lit with reddish glint for a moment as he stared at Toshiro with mix of disgust, pity, contempt, anger and sadness.
"Hitsugaya Toshiro... No. Harry Potter. You are truly pathetic." he intoned. And all Toshiro could see was the wooden blur and darkness.
*
The howl might have been different, more of a mournfull whine than mighty scream but Toshiro knew where he was before he opened his eyes.
He opened his eyes lazily to see the frozen firmament of his inner world.
'Well... at least I'm not dead...'
"Still thinking like that even now... The old man was right. You really ARE pathetic." The growl was raspy as always but this time it carried clear undercurrent of anger.
The sound of icy desert breaking and exploding all around him as the enormous serpentine form lashed out with it's tail was more than enough to see that the beast was more than just a little pissed off however.
"WELL?" The dragon hissed, it's enormous maw scant centimeters from Toshiro's face "Will you keep lying here like a pathetic coward, too afraid to so much as twitch like you did in the outside world?!
"Like you're the one to talk." Toshiro said closing his eyes again tiredly "I don't remember you coming out to help."
"YOU FOOL!" The dragon roared and struck the ice around his wielder and catapulting him up, the numerous shards, usually harmless bitting into white haired ex-wizard's form.
Toshiro stared at the ice burred in his palms and forearms dumbly, too shocked to even feel the pain.
'What...?' he thought dumbly 'But that's impossible... Hyorinmaru can't hurt me!'
"AWAKE NOW?!" The crimson pools gazed down at the shocked wizard as the beast hissed "What the FUCK are you thinking?! ARE you even thinking in the first place?! Does you puny little brain even realise just what you just allowed that old fucker to do?! LOOK AROUND YOU GODDAMN FOOL!"
Still not quite over the sock of his companion managing to just do the impossible, he shut up and did as he was ordered.
And almost fell to his knees.
The icy desert of his inner world was something that most would view as harsh and desolate place. Full of jagged, frozen spires, snow and howling wind blowing through frozen sky, it wasn't exactly what one would call hospitable. But it was beautiful in it's own, harsh way and it's very sight felt oddly comforting to him.
Now, the ice of majestic spires was cracked, broken and...
Toshiro swallowed hard.
...melted. So was the rest of the desert, for that matter. Mangled, melted and broken.
There was no beauty here. Just destruction and ugliness that brought hollow despair to his heart with a glance alone.
"How...?" He whispered, looking back to dragon.
"With his words, his power and your own fucking indecision and lack of faith... He broke you. He broke your will. He broke this place. Are you happy now?" The dragon snarled "You never wanted power... Always threw it away, neglected it, stunted your own growth... Always shunned my gift.. detested it even at some level... Well then... Now you won't have to worry about it anymore." The beast said bitterly
"What the hell are you talking about?" Toshiro scowled "So the old man kicked me around... Big deal. it's not exactly first time we got our assess kicked. Remember Kenpachi? We got over that then, we'll get over it now.
"DON'T.YOU.FUCKING.SEE?" Hyorimaru ground out slowly "Are your perceptions THAT fucking off? The old man is litterally suffocating your reiatsu with his own. Without any true focus to hold it together... Without any resolve... He will close the power off completely. Seal it so deep inside you that you'll NEVER hear my voice anymore... Or come here again."
"...WHAT?!"
The dragon just stared at him sullenly and Toshiro felt himself going numb.
Hyorinmaru was an annoying bastard most of the time. The dragon was arrogant, aggressive and vicious creature and what passed for his sense of humor usually spelled the trouble for anybody involved, Toshiro included. But...
He also was part of his soul and Toshiro could without exaggeration admit that without the beast's help and aggressive nature he would have never survived his first months in Zaraki. And as annoying as he might have been, the dragon was also plenty fun to talk with and have around. He also was a companion and... a friend.
Not to hear Hyorinmaru's voice anymore... Not to have the comforting weight if it's blade in hand... No.
Just no.
Not now.
Not ever.
Over his dead and bloody FROZEN body.
Had he looked around, he would notice the desolate desert stop it's slow descent into melted mess. The spires were still broken and cracked, true. But out of the snowy ground several small, nearly un-noticeable tips started to show their points.
Once again some one was deciding for him. Once again somebody made the decision that was HIS to make.
Toshiro growled, his high voice disturbingly similar to Hyorinmaru's raspy growl. The voice of a rising snow storm, of howling mountain wind of avalanche growing from a single frozen petal and of lake freezing in an instant.
The old man... Man who he though was his friend... With a glance he turned him into a quivering, helpless mess.
HELPLESS.
HIM.
Wielder of Hyorinmaru. Man who had more reiatsu than most Gotei 13 platoons.
He wanted to take Hyorinmaru from him. He wanted to make him helpless again.
He wanted to make him weak.
He remembered being weak. He remembered feeling fear day in and day out. Seeing others die was bad... But the fear, the constant, acidic taste of fear, of terror ruling your life... Was the worst.
"NO."
Hyorinmaru could feel his icy eyebrows rising up in amazement before his toothy maw stretched in a savage, bone chilling grin.
If anybody listened to the boy now they wouldn't have found any difference between dragon's mighty roar and the white haired boy's timbre.
*
Yamamoto Genryusai Shigekuni almost felt like like sighing as he slowed his strike just enough to knock the child out instead of killing him. Though death might be seen as mercy in his case. To have a part of your soul sealed...
Still, this was for the best. He had known of the boy ever since he had come to Soul Society. After all, manifesting a zanpakuto of that power wasn't something he could overlook. He allowed the boy to do as he pleased for some time, watching over him and even befriending him when he came to inner Rukongai. He didn't need to, but the boy was amusing to watch and the old commander-general geniuinly liked the sarcastic, slightly scathing humor displayed by the the brat. Even with his zanpakuto, Yamamoto decided to wait before inducting the boy into Gotei 13. He had high hopes for him, very high hopes indeed.
With his powerful zapakuto, quick mind and obvious power the boy was a definite captain material. One of the best to come around in centuries, in fact. With some training, seasoning and guidance the boy might soon be a second Shunsui or Ukitake without too much trouble.
He had such high hopes... Only to have them crushed when the boy failed like that. Captain potential or no, he simply couldn't have somebody like that become a shinigami. It seemed he had misjudged the lad's character after all.
If he had less power, less potential, then he would let the matter slide.
The lad would be an excellent addition to purely combat units, like Eleventh or Sixth division, and would be kept firmly under control. But a captain with that kind of attitude? The Academy wouldn't straighten him out, he was already too powerful for most of the instructors and would gain skill quickly. And once in the Gotei 13 proper, he would grow in power as well.
No.
This was the only way.
Maybe if the lad learned his lesson sometime later in his life, he would help him unseal his power, but even then, he would never be as powerful as he could have been.
For a brief moment, before the rod hit, Yamamoto felt each and every day out of many centuries that made up his life and closed his yes.
Only to open them in surprise when he felt the rod hitting something far more solid than flesh and bone.
The boy was still on his knees, his face still bowed but between his head and the rod there was a gleaming edge of an unusually long katana.
"My. Name. Is. HITSUGAYA. TOSHIRO." the boy growled out, pushing the rod away from his head with each word.
Yamamoto flash stepped back when the blade finally cut the wood and his eyebrows shot up a tad.
Sure, it was wood but he had been pouring some reaitsu in it. For the boy to not only nick it, but actually cut it...
Yamamoto looked at the white haired child carefully.
The boy was standing now, despite the fact that amount of power he was putting out would knock any low level shinigami by it's presence alone. Unlike before, his reiatsu was easily repelled, the boy's own spiritual power pushing out into visible, icy blue spectrum.
Yamamoto smiled behind his beard.
The boy just might have what it takes to go the distance, after all.
Still, he needed to make sure.
"Well then, Hitsugaya Toshiro. Since you were kind enough to give me your name, I can't do any less, can I?" he shrugged his haori off, letting it fall and took out the Ryujinjakka from behind his obi, allowing it to take on it's true form of a long katana, not unlike the boy's own. The blades were, in fact, almost disturbingly similar.
"I am Yamamoto Genryusai Shigekuni. General of Seiretei's armed forces and Commander-General of Gotei 13." He was old, powerful and skilled. He didn't need to unseal his zanpakuto to show it. Of course, that meant less power, but he didn't want to crush the boy. Just to test him.
"That is very impressive youngster. You standing there, that is." he said, opening his eyes fully, allowing bits of his true power to shine through. This ammount of reiatsu left most non-seated shinigami blubbering wrecks. The boy didn't even so much as twitch.
'Very impressive.' He thought, his respect for the child rising a notch
"But tell me... Is your that extent of your resolve. Just standing there?" Yamamoto asked, rising an eyebrow quisically "Or can you actually move?"
The boy raised up his head, and the old shinigami could see his eyes for the first time.
It took all he had to keep his composure instead of breaking out sake bottles and cackling in triumph.
They were two pools of focused, deadly jade, positively glowing with power.
"Hey... Old man...?" Toshiro said slowly "Your reiatsu... It has a very distinctive smell... One of ash and brimstone. That zanpakuto of yours... It's fire, isn't it?
Yamamoto's eyebrows shot up. To feel the nature of a sealed zanpakuto... The boy was truly amazingly gifted. Last person to reach that level was Urahara.
"And if it is?"
The boy chuckled softly and his reiatsu started to lick his frame, liting it and the blade balanced on his shoulder with bluish sparks.
Yamamoto looked with interest as the very ground around the young would-be shinigami and even the nearby river started to freeze slowly before the boy so much as brought out his shikai.
Yamamoto looked on with a degree of fascination as the boy's eyes started to gain slitted, reptilian pupils and his voice dropped into raspy growl with each word.
"It's just that, you know... Hyorinmaru and I... We HATE fire."
*
Comments?
EDIT: Okay, this is MOSTLY cleaned up version. Typos, some grammar issues and little bit of formatting. Other than any mistakes that still remain, this is pretty much as close to final version as it gets. I'm going to leave this for a while and concentrate on chapter two and other fics for now. And there is still rest of Revenant to edit.