Its own name.
Thoughtful, Hyourinmaru took to the skies again, circling into the center of Toushirou’s soul. Here, no stifling heat of summer would ever dare to come. All was wind, the soothing curtains of freezing rain, and endless sculpted cliffs of ice.
And there, on the white plain below, was where Toushirou had first stood when he’d summoned a young child into their soul-scape. Shaking. Afraid. Knowing other children looked at him and saw a monster, and never knowing why.
I wish you remembered, Toushirou. At least then you would understand.
He remembered, even if that winter night so long ago was only tatters of images and feelings. Toushirou had not been an easy soul to konsou, oh no; young and frightened and oh, so in love with the clear winter stars. He’d wanted away, wanted wings, to soar through winter forever….
And the hilt had struck, and he had shattered into we, all the power of ice and starlight buried with Hyourinmaru in a young, frightened soul.
We were almost youkai. We were almost free.
He did not regret becoming his shinigami’s zanpakutou. The battle against the Hollows was as noble a cause as any dragon could wish for. And yet….
I want to fly.
Toushirou was a captain. And Captain Hitsugaya followed the rules, no matter how asinine he thought them. And the rules of Seireitei meant, all too often, Toushirou did not even carry his blade. As for releasing shikai….
I want to fly!
Wings furling, the dragon coiled around a spire of ice, regarding the worried shinigami who had appeared in their soul-scape. “I did not mean to wake you.”
“You’re upset.” Toushirou stepped forward, hand lifted and open. “What can I do?”