Don’t know how I ended up here… but somehow, some way, this has to be Kurosaki’s fault.
Ishida hissed. Gathered his will, and breathed through the pain, mentally damning Ichigo and every other shinigami who’d interfered with his life to a thousand icy torments. This wasn’t quite like being paralyzed by Kurotsuchi’s blade. He could still breathe; still move, just a little. But being bound here, unable to do anything to save himself as his life froze away….
And if he could move one hand – just one! – he could snap a spark from the fire-starting kit some sadist had left by his side, and ignite dry branches protected by the tree’s own outer casing of ice into a blaze to save himself. If he could just push past the thorns, just a little-
Not fair. This is just – not fair.
Suddenly suspicious, Ishida held still. If that Ukitake had anything to do with this, I’m going to have to-
A blast of ice, and tightening pain.
I am not going to die this way!
Loosening. Not enough to breathe easily, or free his hands, but the vines were definitely looser.
“The hell?” came a familiar, confused voice.
“Oh, yes,” Ishida got out through clenched teeth. “Just what I needed to complete a perfect night.”