Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Utter Chaos ❯ Or Seeing at Last? ( Chapter 6 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: Namimakura 
Momo realizes the truth. But what is it?
Anime/Manga: Bleach Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama / Horror / Romance / Suspense / Angst | Type: Divergence | Uploaded On: 07.20.2008 | Pages: 3 | Words: 2.9K | Visits: 169 | Status: Work In Progress
Momo realizes the truth. But what is it?
Anime/Manga: Bleach Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama / Horror / Romance / Suspense / Angst | Type: Divergence | Uploaded On: 07.20.2008 | Pages: 3 | Words: 2.9K | Visits: 169 | Status: Work In Progress
had lied. He hadn’t wanted to. Well, not especially. He hated making Hinamori cry. But he knew the stakes, weighed the disadvantages and made his decision.
The only way to protect her was to hurt her. As long as he kept her emotionally unstable, she’d never be able to continue her investigation.
But he’d implied that he’d created the opportunity only to humiliate her. That had been very untrue. He’d just seen her reaction and known immediately and instinctively what to do.
In reality, he’d been unable to even move properly for most of those absentee days. He’d only just gotten the hang of his injuries during the weekend, which was why he’d made it to school at all, though he’d considered skipping.
The pain in his chest flared for a moment and he swayed, suddenly very dizzy. Perhaps he shouldn’t have come after all. He forced the dizziness back by breathing exactly evenly and staring straight ahead, keeping himself as upright as possible. He used his analytical precision with detail to count out and measure time between steps, controlling as much of his body as possible as carefully as possible. A difficult task, but Hitsugaya was an expert.
Hitsugaya had embraced the coldness that seemed to freeze up inside him. It locked all his other reactions in place. It gave him utter control and so he willingly succumbed to its emotionless state. The cold also gave him new strength and he managed to walk to class. He didn’t think that anyone had noticed, but of course, there were never any guarantees.
Only seven periods to go.
************************************************************** ******************
Now she was crying. Not her Taichou, not her Taichou!
Hinamori was surprised to discover it was a physical ache. She was not as surprised by the horrible keening sound seeming to pull itself from her throat.
It felt as if she had spent years in isolation. Years in this sterile, white cell. The one that she had systematically destroyed because it was simply too pristine. Too perfect.
Hinamori knew better than to trust perfect. She hated that she knew better. She hated that she should have to know.
Nothing in her world was making sense anymore. Wasn’t perfection to be desired? “Practice makes perfect?”
Maybe the truth wasn’t quite so simple. Maybe perfection didn’t really exist.
Hinamori latched onto the idea, distracting herself with ideas instead of dealing with reality. She giggled hysterically, sobs still clogging her throat. Perfection was a lie. Everything she was, was a lie.
So where was the truth?
There was no one to answer her.
Her reiatsu was sealed, the room was locked. There was no one inside. She heard no one outside. Emptiness, emptiness everywhere. No one to rescue her, no one to protect her, no one to coddle her, no one to even betray her.
And as grateful as she was, she was also terrified of the whiteness and the loneliness.
Where was Toushirou?
She frowned at the sudden and unbidden thought. It was true. Toushirou had never left her or abandoned her this way before. It was true that she’d seen him much less often since-she stopped herself-since then, but he had always inexplicably been there when she’d needed him. It made no sense that he would not be here now, especially since it’d been so long.
But then, nothing made sense anymore.
So she shrugged all thought aside and let her tears take over.
************************************************************ ********************
He wondered if he’d ever known anything but screaming. It seemed unlikely. His whole world was his screams. They echoed in the air and in his head, until he could not distinguish between his mind and reality.
The only thing that kept him grounded was the pain. Sometimes it skimmed along his skin, only tearing pieces and strips off the surface. That hurt, but it was nothing compared to her special hook. The hook was designed to slip between the ribs, pulling at muscle and flesh normally attached to bone. She felt no hurry and took her time, savoring each scream and cherishing every twitch of agony.
“You are a killer,” she whispered. As if he could hear through the haze of his own screams. As if he could comprehend when all he understood was suffering. “You are a killer,” she hissed darkly, smoothly, “but you are my killer! You obey only me!” She snatched a fistful of his hair, twisting his neck back painfully to croon in his ear. “Do you understand? If you do not obey, this is your punishment!” She pressed the hook deeper into his rib, shifting firmly until she heard the satisfying crack of a rib. Blood already covered her hands in a sticky wetness, too thick to dry properly and too dark to determine a color.
His screams peaked, transforming into desperate shouts, begging for freedom, for sheer relief and she smiled with catlike satisfaction.
The torture continued. It always lasted until the victim had no voice left.
************************************************************ ********************
Somewhere in the space of a single class period, Momo had managed to transmute her hurt into angry rage. Her Toushirou had humiliated her. He had tried to punish her. How dare he, breaking her heart for his own cruel intentions? She may not have been the perfect friend, but she hardly thought she deserved such treatment! And she had never been one for rolling over and simply accepting what had been handed to her.
In fact, the more she thought about it, the angrier she became. It coalesced into a red film that covered her whole vision. She was unable to concentrate in classes, because her mind kept sweeping around the scene that morning. She barely noticed the strange looks other students were giving her. She barely even noticed Rukia trying to ask her what was wrong.
She had spent days in positive agony, constantly worrying about him. She had been neglecting Sousuke when she knew he only wanted to help her. She was paying attention, trying to rectify her earlier mistakes that Toushirou said she‘d made.
Oh, she knew why he’d done it. He didn’t want her to know why he kept doing what-she forced her mind around the thought-why he kept hurting himself, so he was being deliberately cruel to throw her off.
Well, that didn’t make it right. She refused to let this behavior continue. She knew she was working herself into an unreasonable frenzy, but she simply couldn’t help it! This was Toushirou, her best friend. He was hurting and he was hurting her. And Momo simply didn’t stand for such things.
********************************************************** **********************
Unohana, Ukitake and Matsumoto-fukutaichou were all standing before Hitsugaya-taichou’s bedside. His breathing was irregular but not too shallow. His wounds had stopped bleeding-for the moment-and it seemed as though the room was drowning in low-level healers. Matsumoto’s face was creased with worry as she chewed on her lower lip nervously.
“Unohana-Taichou…. What hope does he have if I refuse?”
Unohana did not look at the fukutaichou, understanding the question perfectly. It was a huge risk to take, knowing it likely that neither mind would be recoverable if it failed. The odds were appallingly high in favor of that possibility and any reasonable soul would want to know the detractors of every choice.
“There is honestly no way to determine that, as you might imagine. This is because we frankly don’t know what’s wrong with him. However, I don’t know how I could help him without achieving a diagnosis.”
Matsumoto nodded distractedly, as if this was little more than she had expected. “Of course, I’ll do it.” Her voice was firm, despite her face being pale.
“Thank you,” the healer whispered. She laid a hand on Matsumoto’s shoulder. “I’ll help you stabilize your reiatsu.”
Ukitake watched carefully through narrow eyes as the procedure began. Matsumoto started off in a nearly whispered chant, her hands moving in an intricate dance. Both he and Unohana had been surprised at how quickly she’d picked up the steps. Her murmuring grew louder in an ebb and flow pattern, rising and falling. She swayed slightly and allowed her eyes to slide halfway shut.
Unohana fixed her eyes to the figure on the bed. If Hitsugaya showed any signs of entering another fit (unfortunately, likely) then she had to be ready to both rescue him and return Matsumoto’s mind to her body. The end of the sequence approached. Unohana’s muscles tensed against her will, anxiety pouring through her.
Matsumoto uttered the last of the incantation. A great flash of white light flooded the room before it was swallowed in darkness. Matsumoto’s body went rigid under her hand.
************************************************************ ********************
Hitsugaya had unwillingly been watching Hinamori. Unwilling because he didn’t want to be caught staring or asked why he was studying her face so closely. He was transfixed however, and couldn’t help but stare at her gradually changing expression.
She looked oddly torn between sheer rage and deep hurt. It was as if she simply kept shifting between the two possible emotions, making it impossible for her to think of anything else.
He worried that he’d taken the game too far. Perhaps he had crossed that fine line that tipped the scales back in her favor. Or, out of her favor, depending on how he was examining it. If the fact she hadn’t heard Rukia speaking to her for the fifth time was any indication, it seemed he had.
In fact, worry was far too mild a term for the terror pulsing at the back of his mind, but he let the cold keep it at bay. It could not help him now and he needed to be extremely cognizant of his surroundings, especially given how much trouble he was having simply traveling to his different classes.
It was nearly the end of second period and her emotions had seemed to grow only more and more erratic and Hitsugaya suddenly found himself fervently wishing he had followed his initial instincts and simply not come to school. He had this odd feeling he might have been better off. He didn’t think he’d be able to escape by the time the class would end and she would have made her way to him.
For the longer he watched her, the more certain he was that she was indeed moving towards confrontation.
The bell rang.
************************************************************ ********************
Momo stood at the clanging sound, her body automatically recognizing the end of the period though her mind was focused only on Toushirou.
Her eyes saw only red and only tears as she strode purposefully to the chair he was rising from.
She barely noticed the slow, careful edge to his movements.
She barely noticed the way his eyes had been following her every motion with razor-sharp attention.
She barely noticed the black under his eyes, indicating loss of sleep or the tired droop to his white, spiky hair.
All she could see were the crisscrossing scars across his arms and the mocking expression his face wore in their past encounters. All she could see were his self-destructive behaviors.
“Toushirou, how could you?!” Tears were pricking the corners of her eyes again, but these were of rage. “You know I only want to help! You have to tell me what’s going on!”
He let the edges of his mouth curl into a sneer, this one containing no mockery, only irritation. “Silly girl, you can’t help me. Now, stay out of my busi-”
Momo was done listening to his disgustingly bossy and callous attitude. She barely even realized what she was doing before her hand was flying through the air and connected with a resounding smack on Toushirou’s cheek.
*********************************************************** *********************
Unohana already felt a layer of sweat drenching her brow and not five minutes had passed. At least, she didn’t think so. Time had ceased to matter, anxiety in the room was so thick. The only thing that mattered was that Hitsugaya-Taichou had not yet begun another fit. His body was calm and quiet, if somewhat erratic in breathing.
Matsumoto still stood, absolutely motionless and terrifyingly stiff.
Unohana wished and hoped that this was an effect of the spell and not a foreboding sign of something gone horribly wrong. Upon reflection, she should have practiced it on a normal konpaku first. Well, it was too late now.
Then, the body on the bed began to glow with a faint, blueish-white aura. It grew gradually in intensity for mere moments before exploding outward in a blast of reiatsu, knocking Matsumoto into Unohana and onto the floor. Matsumoto was suddenly moving and writhing, screaming horribly in an eerie imitation of her captain’s fits, lying not yards from her. While Hitsugaya lay merely perfectly, coldly still, Matsumoto would not stop shifting or screaming and Unohana had to work in order to extricate herself from underneath the pained fukutaichou. Hair, in particular, was smothering her face, making it difficult to chant any kind of kidou.
Before Unohana had had ample opportunity to think of the appropriate counter-spell, Matsumoto had already gone deathly still. Frantic, Unohana bent over the pale fukutaichou, desperately looking for any sign of breathing or heartbeats. For one terrifying moment, she could see naught of either, until she realized it was more due to her vision being obstructed by tears. Furious at losing her composure, she wiped them away and sighed in audible relief at the shallow breaths. At the very least, Matsumoto-fukutaichou was still alive.
Even though it seemed that her current condition would indicate that Hitsugaya’s mind had rejected her. She staved off the disappointment for another time.
Even though it meant there could only be one other konpaku left to ask. Unohana shuddered in an oddly clear moment of foreshadowing. She couldn’t help but have a bad feeling about leaving everything to the (as far as she still knew) Aizen-obsessed Hinamori.
******************************************************** ************************
Hitsugaya staggered, the entire world suddenly shifting, spinning and twirling as Hinamori’s hand crashed across his face, deafening the classroom with an odd finality. He noted unimportantly that the room had emptied itself uncharacteristically quickly and realized distantly that his mind was splintering itself in order to separate him from the intense agony that was quickly ravaging his whole body, especially the deep cuts he’d sustained around his rib cage. He only just managed to avoid crying out, but could help the buckling of his knees that caused him to tumble to the ground.
The jarring sensations echoed and rippled across his bone structure, awakening the aches and opening wounds he had only just managed to close.
He swore silently to himself as the last vestiges of pain exploded, catapulting him to the waiting black of unconsciousness.
************************************************* *******************************
Momo stared at Toushirou, mind not yet having digested that he had passed out at her feet from a simple slap. Mere moments later, she could see the blood beginning to stain his shirt red as it broke the torn flesh in a rush of crimson.
“Toushirou!” she yelped in surprise. Quickly, she leaned down, pressing her hand against the wound to staunch the bleeding.
His body’s unexpected reaction had somehow killed any anger she might have had, wiping her emotions clean. It took her a minute or two before her brain kicked back into gear. She was already yelling for help when the realizations began to crash down on her.
He was wounded in new places.
The injuries were positively horrific.
There was no way this was self-inflicted.
Her mind hit that blank wall of panic and terror as she finally realized what had been happening all along.
It was that again!
She shuddered against her will, hardly noticing that they had already taken Toushirou away.
He had been fooling her all along! Always diverting her towards other possibilities.
But it was worse than she had ever imagined!
Not that! her mind cried. Not that!
The only way to protect her was to hurt her. As long as he kept her emotionally unstable, she’d never be able to continue her investigation.
But he’d implied that he’d created the opportunity only to humiliate her. That had been very untrue. He’d just seen her reaction and known immediately and instinctively what to do.
In reality, he’d been unable to even move properly for most of those absentee days. He’d only just gotten the hang of his injuries during the weekend, which was why he’d made it to school at all, though he’d considered skipping.
The pain in his chest flared for a moment and he swayed, suddenly very dizzy. Perhaps he shouldn’t have come after all. He forced the dizziness back by breathing exactly evenly and staring straight ahead, keeping himself as upright as possible. He used his analytical precision with detail to count out and measure time between steps, controlling as much of his body as possible as carefully as possible. A difficult task, but Hitsugaya was an expert.
Hitsugaya had embraced the coldness that seemed to freeze up inside him. It locked all his other reactions in place. It gave him utter control and so he willingly succumbed to its emotionless state. The cold also gave him new strength and he managed to walk to class. He didn’t think that anyone had noticed, but of course, there were never any guarantees.
Only seven periods to go.
************************************************************** ******************
Now she was crying. Not her Taichou, not her Taichou!
Hinamori was surprised to discover it was a physical ache. She was not as surprised by the horrible keening sound seeming to pull itself from her throat.
It felt as if she had spent years in isolation. Years in this sterile, white cell. The one that she had systematically destroyed because it was simply too pristine. Too perfect.
Hinamori knew better than to trust perfect. She hated that she knew better. She hated that she should have to know.
Nothing in her world was making sense anymore. Wasn’t perfection to be desired? “Practice makes perfect?”
Maybe the truth wasn’t quite so simple. Maybe perfection didn’t really exist.
Hinamori latched onto the idea, distracting herself with ideas instead of dealing with reality. She giggled hysterically, sobs still clogging her throat. Perfection was a lie. Everything she was, was a lie.
So where was the truth?
There was no one to answer her.
Her reiatsu was sealed, the room was locked. There was no one inside. She heard no one outside. Emptiness, emptiness everywhere. No one to rescue her, no one to protect her, no one to coddle her, no one to even betray her.
And as grateful as she was, she was also terrified of the whiteness and the loneliness.
Where was Toushirou?
She frowned at the sudden and unbidden thought. It was true. Toushirou had never left her or abandoned her this way before. It was true that she’d seen him much less often since-she stopped herself-since then, but he had always inexplicably been there when she’d needed him. It made no sense that he would not be here now, especially since it’d been so long.
But then, nothing made sense anymore.
So she shrugged all thought aside and let her tears take over.
************************************************************ ********************
He wondered if he’d ever known anything but screaming. It seemed unlikely. His whole world was his screams. They echoed in the air and in his head, until he could not distinguish between his mind and reality.
The only thing that kept him grounded was the pain. Sometimes it skimmed along his skin, only tearing pieces and strips off the surface. That hurt, but it was nothing compared to her special hook. The hook was designed to slip between the ribs, pulling at muscle and flesh normally attached to bone. She felt no hurry and took her time, savoring each scream and cherishing every twitch of agony.
“You are a killer,” she whispered. As if he could hear through the haze of his own screams. As if he could comprehend when all he understood was suffering. “You are a killer,” she hissed darkly, smoothly, “but you are my killer! You obey only me!” She snatched a fistful of his hair, twisting his neck back painfully to croon in his ear. “Do you understand? If you do not obey, this is your punishment!” She pressed the hook deeper into his rib, shifting firmly until she heard the satisfying crack of a rib. Blood already covered her hands in a sticky wetness, too thick to dry properly and too dark to determine a color.
His screams peaked, transforming into desperate shouts, begging for freedom, for sheer relief and she smiled with catlike satisfaction.
The torture continued. It always lasted until the victim had no voice left.
************************************************************ ********************
Somewhere in the space of a single class period, Momo had managed to transmute her hurt into angry rage. Her Toushirou had humiliated her. He had tried to punish her. How dare he, breaking her heart for his own cruel intentions? She may not have been the perfect friend, but she hardly thought she deserved such treatment! And she had never been one for rolling over and simply accepting what had been handed to her.
In fact, the more she thought about it, the angrier she became. It coalesced into a red film that covered her whole vision. She was unable to concentrate in classes, because her mind kept sweeping around the scene that morning. She barely noticed the strange looks other students were giving her. She barely even noticed Rukia trying to ask her what was wrong.
She had spent days in positive agony, constantly worrying about him. She had been neglecting Sousuke when she knew he only wanted to help her. She was paying attention, trying to rectify her earlier mistakes that Toushirou said she‘d made.
Oh, she knew why he’d done it. He didn’t want her to know why he kept doing what-she forced her mind around the thought-why he kept hurting himself, so he was being deliberately cruel to throw her off.
Well, that didn’t make it right. She refused to let this behavior continue. She knew she was working herself into an unreasonable frenzy, but she simply couldn’t help it! This was Toushirou, her best friend. He was hurting and he was hurting her. And Momo simply didn’t stand for such things.
********************************************************** **********************
Unohana, Ukitake and Matsumoto-fukutaichou were all standing before Hitsugaya-taichou’s bedside. His breathing was irregular but not too shallow. His wounds had stopped bleeding-for the moment-and it seemed as though the room was drowning in low-level healers. Matsumoto’s face was creased with worry as she chewed on her lower lip nervously.
“Unohana-Taichou…. What hope does he have if I refuse?”
Unohana did not look at the fukutaichou, understanding the question perfectly. It was a huge risk to take, knowing it likely that neither mind would be recoverable if it failed. The odds were appallingly high in favor of that possibility and any reasonable soul would want to know the detractors of every choice.
“There is honestly no way to determine that, as you might imagine. This is because we frankly don’t know what’s wrong with him. However, I don’t know how I could help him without achieving a diagnosis.”
Matsumoto nodded distractedly, as if this was little more than she had expected. “Of course, I’ll do it.” Her voice was firm, despite her face being pale.
“Thank you,” the healer whispered. She laid a hand on Matsumoto’s shoulder. “I’ll help you stabilize your reiatsu.”
Ukitake watched carefully through narrow eyes as the procedure began. Matsumoto started off in a nearly whispered chant, her hands moving in an intricate dance. Both he and Unohana had been surprised at how quickly she’d picked up the steps. Her murmuring grew louder in an ebb and flow pattern, rising and falling. She swayed slightly and allowed her eyes to slide halfway shut.
Unohana fixed her eyes to the figure on the bed. If Hitsugaya showed any signs of entering another fit (unfortunately, likely) then she had to be ready to both rescue him and return Matsumoto’s mind to her body. The end of the sequence approached. Unohana’s muscles tensed against her will, anxiety pouring through her.
Matsumoto uttered the last of the incantation. A great flash of white light flooded the room before it was swallowed in darkness. Matsumoto’s body went rigid under her hand.
************************************************************ ********************
Hitsugaya had unwillingly been watching Hinamori. Unwilling because he didn’t want to be caught staring or asked why he was studying her face so closely. He was transfixed however, and couldn’t help but stare at her gradually changing expression.
She looked oddly torn between sheer rage and deep hurt. It was as if she simply kept shifting between the two possible emotions, making it impossible for her to think of anything else.
He worried that he’d taken the game too far. Perhaps he had crossed that fine line that tipped the scales back in her favor. Or, out of her favor, depending on how he was examining it. If the fact she hadn’t heard Rukia speaking to her for the fifth time was any indication, it seemed he had.
In fact, worry was far too mild a term for the terror pulsing at the back of his mind, but he let the cold keep it at bay. It could not help him now and he needed to be extremely cognizant of his surroundings, especially given how much trouble he was having simply traveling to his different classes.
It was nearly the end of second period and her emotions had seemed to grow only more and more erratic and Hitsugaya suddenly found himself fervently wishing he had followed his initial instincts and simply not come to school. He had this odd feeling he might have been better off. He didn’t think he’d be able to escape by the time the class would end and she would have made her way to him.
For the longer he watched her, the more certain he was that she was indeed moving towards confrontation.
The bell rang.
************************************************************ ********************
Momo stood at the clanging sound, her body automatically recognizing the end of the period though her mind was focused only on Toushirou.
Her eyes saw only red and only tears as she strode purposefully to the chair he was rising from.
She barely noticed the slow, careful edge to his movements.
She barely noticed the way his eyes had been following her every motion with razor-sharp attention.
She barely noticed the black under his eyes, indicating loss of sleep or the tired droop to his white, spiky hair.
All she could see were the crisscrossing scars across his arms and the mocking expression his face wore in their past encounters. All she could see were his self-destructive behaviors.
“Toushirou, how could you?!” Tears were pricking the corners of her eyes again, but these were of rage. “You know I only want to help! You have to tell me what’s going on!”
He let the edges of his mouth curl into a sneer, this one containing no mockery, only irritation. “Silly girl, you can’t help me. Now, stay out of my busi-”
Momo was done listening to his disgustingly bossy and callous attitude. She barely even realized what she was doing before her hand was flying through the air and connected with a resounding smack on Toushirou’s cheek.
*********************************************************** *********************
Unohana already felt a layer of sweat drenching her brow and not five minutes had passed. At least, she didn’t think so. Time had ceased to matter, anxiety in the room was so thick. The only thing that mattered was that Hitsugaya-Taichou had not yet begun another fit. His body was calm and quiet, if somewhat erratic in breathing.
Matsumoto still stood, absolutely motionless and terrifyingly stiff.
Unohana wished and hoped that this was an effect of the spell and not a foreboding sign of something gone horribly wrong. Upon reflection, she should have practiced it on a normal konpaku first. Well, it was too late now.
Then, the body on the bed began to glow with a faint, blueish-white aura. It grew gradually in intensity for mere moments before exploding outward in a blast of reiatsu, knocking Matsumoto into Unohana and onto the floor. Matsumoto was suddenly moving and writhing, screaming horribly in an eerie imitation of her captain’s fits, lying not yards from her. While Hitsugaya lay merely perfectly, coldly still, Matsumoto would not stop shifting or screaming and Unohana had to work in order to extricate herself from underneath the pained fukutaichou. Hair, in particular, was smothering her face, making it difficult to chant any kind of kidou.
Before Unohana had had ample opportunity to think of the appropriate counter-spell, Matsumoto had already gone deathly still. Frantic, Unohana bent over the pale fukutaichou, desperately looking for any sign of breathing or heartbeats. For one terrifying moment, she could see naught of either, until she realized it was more due to her vision being obstructed by tears. Furious at losing her composure, she wiped them away and sighed in audible relief at the shallow breaths. At the very least, Matsumoto-fukutaichou was still alive.
Even though it seemed that her current condition would indicate that Hitsugaya’s mind had rejected her. She staved off the disappointment for another time.
Even though it meant there could only be one other konpaku left to ask. Unohana shuddered in an oddly clear moment of foreshadowing. She couldn’t help but have a bad feeling about leaving everything to the (as far as she still knew) Aizen-obsessed Hinamori.
******************************************************** ************************
Hitsugaya staggered, the entire world suddenly shifting, spinning and twirling as Hinamori’s hand crashed across his face, deafening the classroom with an odd finality. He noted unimportantly that the room had emptied itself uncharacteristically quickly and realized distantly that his mind was splintering itself in order to separate him from the intense agony that was quickly ravaging his whole body, especially the deep cuts he’d sustained around his rib cage. He only just managed to avoid crying out, but could help the buckling of his knees that caused him to tumble to the ground.
The jarring sensations echoed and rippled across his bone structure, awakening the aches and opening wounds he had only just managed to close.
He swore silently to himself as the last vestiges of pain exploded, catapulting him to the waiting black of unconsciousness.
************************************************* *******************************
Momo stared at Toushirou, mind not yet having digested that he had passed out at her feet from a simple slap. Mere moments later, she could see the blood beginning to stain his shirt red as it broke the torn flesh in a rush of crimson.
“Toushirou!” she yelped in surprise. Quickly, she leaned down, pressing her hand against the wound to staunch the bleeding.
His body’s unexpected reaction had somehow killed any anger she might have had, wiping her emotions clean. It took her a minute or two before her brain kicked back into gear. She was already yelling for help when the realizations began to crash down on her.
He was wounded in new places.
The injuries were positively horrific.
There was no way this was self-inflicted.
Her mind hit that blank wall of panic and terror as she finally realized what had been happening all along.
It was that again!
She shuddered against her will, hardly noticing that they had already taken Toushirou away.
He had been fooling her all along! Always diverting her towards other possibilities.
But it was worse than she had ever imagined!
Not that! her mind cried. Not that!