Chapter 3: Assimilation

A/N: Y'all be crazy - I've never gotten this many reviews/follows in such a short time on ANYTHING except maybe "Transition Period" and that story is over 150,000 words. Thank you so much.

Now, this chapter may be slightly confusing, so I'd like to take this moment to remind you that this is Hitsugaya's perspective still, and everything written is supposed to reflect his thoughts and opinions. Some things he thinks/says don't reflect the reality of the story. For those of you unaware of this technique, it's called the 'unreliable narrator.'

And to answer the question of 'shipping' before it starts. Yes, I do have a pairing in mind for this story. No, I do not know if I will actively (put them in a relationship) or passively (lots of fluffy hints) ship it. No, you are not allowed to know the pairing. Figure it out yourselves! ;)

But enough of that now. Enjoy the story!

It was the steady, dull ache pulsing faintly from his thigh that first made him aware that he'd been asleep and towed him slowly back into semiconsciousness. However, waking up from this dreamlike state was slow and lethargic, his body either unwilling or unable to process anything other than the soft warmth surrounding him. Every so often he got the vague impression that something had changed, some sort of pressure rousing him from the dozing blur for a few clear seconds before the comfortable haze returned. But gradually the fog thickening his thoughts began to evaporate, and the world around him began to make logical sense.

He woke up in a hospital bed, wearing nothing but a cloth medical gown – the kind that fully preserved his modesty, thank god – a stripe of bandaging around the crown of his head, and a thick swath of bandages wrapped tightly around his left thigh. An IV had been taped into the crook of his elbow, and he blinked sleepily up at the clear plastic bag of fluid hanging over his head. After a few moments of just lying there, Hitsugaya dragged his torso forward until he was sitting up in the bed, the white cloth blanket still covering his legs. His head spun a bit, and he gave himself a moment to regain his bearings before looking around the small, plain room. There wasn't much else in the room besides his bed, a few chairs, and a small table with a thin folder lying on top of it, but he could sense the reiatsu of what had to be the nursing staff wandering around the hospital, some of them moving in his direction.

He followed them with his mind's eye as the humans' reiatsu drew closer, folding his hands in his lap as he waited for the doctor to come in. Luckily enough for him, he knew that he could use the head injury as an excuse to have spotty memories, but it's wouldn't be enough to use that as his only reason for not divulging information – he'd have to play this carefully.

When the door opened, he pulled his attention away from the small window, looking up at the group who had just walked into his hospital room. Two were in pale green scrubs, and as the others took seats in the various chairs, the taller of the two medical professionals walked over to him.

"It's good to see you awake, young man," the purple-haired woman said kindly. "Are you feeling alright? Hungry or thirsty? Any pain I should know about?"

Toushiro blinked up at her in surprise, realizing for the first time that he wasn't feeling shaky or weak with hunger, though his stomach was protesting noisily. He glanced idly at the tube feeding into his arm, recognizing it as a nutrient drip.

"I'm hungry, but I'm not in much pain," he replied softly. "I assume I'm on painkillers right now?"

The doctor nodded once, then spoke softly into her pager before returning her full attention to him.

"Food is on its way for you, young man," she explained gently. "But in the meantime, do you feel up to answering some questions these three have for you?"

He nodded, already expecting the whole song-and-dance routine with the police, and flicked his gaze to them expectantly. There were three of them present – a dark-haired man with tired eyes and a slouched posture, a man in a police uniform with a cat's head, and a bespectacled older woman with bright yellow eyes and a clipboard. The man with the cat's head leaned forward first, a friendly purr echoing from his throat.

"Well, first and foremost, I'll go ahead and explain why we're here," he began cheerfully. "To make a long story short, you're a kid that nobody has reported missing, yet we can't seem to find out who your parents are, and we need to figure out where you belong. Secondly, as you probably know, public use of Quirks is prohibited for anyone without a license. However, when the pro-hero Elasticity tried to rescue you about a week ago, you ran by using your Quirk, and then jumped in to save two kids about your age from a gigantic monster during the U.A. Sports Festival yesterday afternoon, again using your Quirk. Obviously, we're not exactly sure why you did all of this, so we were hoping to hear your side of the story before we try to figure out what to do with you."

Toushiro blinked once at the straightforward address, then shifted uncomfortably and dropped his gaze.

"Uh…where do you want me to start?" he asked. The bespectacled woman smiled at him.

"With your name, if you would," she teased gently. "This old woman likes starting off simple."

The questions came quickly, but not overwhelmingly so. Hitsugaya suspected that this was in part to the presence of the two physicians standing in the corner of the room, monitoring the whole process as the trio launched questions at him, trying to build a picture of his life. And for his part, he didn't contribute much. Parents were dead, name was Hitsugaya Toushiro, birthday was December 20th, doesn't know if he has any relatives, and the like. But then, after it had become clear that he 'didn't remember' a lot of the information that the police and government were asking for, the tone changed. The dark-haired man leaned forward then, his stare unblinking.

"Why did you run away from Elasticity?" the sleepy-looking man asked, his tone very flat. Toushiro shrugged, deciding to answer honestly. His fingers tightened, fists clenching on the blankets until his knuckles were white.

"…He startled me," the young shinigami confessed. "I didn't know where I was. And then after I shook him off he tried to touch me again."

The dark-haired man was quiet for a minute, scratching at the scraggly stubble on his chin. When he spoke again, his tone was noticeably gentler.

"Were you afraid that he was going to hurt you?"

Hitsugaya stiffened at the delicate question, suddenly realizing where the trio was going with their line of questioning. Anger clamped down on his mind, lips peeling back to expose the white bone of his teeth.

"First off, that's none of your fucking business," he spat, "and second, hell no."

The three people questioning him exchanged disapproving, but not surprised, glances, and Hitsugaya got the distinct feeling that he'd somehow played directly into their hands. It set him on edge, and he flicked his attention between the three civilians and the two medical professionals standing at the foot of his bed. One was carefully making small notes on a clipboard, and when he caught Hitsugaya looking at him, he smiled kindly, lowering clipboard just enough to show the foreign name embroidered on the pocket of his white coat.

Lonnie E. Elrick, M.D., D.A.A.E.T.S., F.A.A.E.T.S.

"Easy, son, we're just trying to figure out what happened," he said, his accented voice kind but still firm, and Hitsugaya felt a little bit of tension in his shoulders relax at the earnest tone. "I can understand if you don't want to answer something, and that's okay. However, while my friend Dr. Watanabe here was stitching up your leg, she discovered that you had some very unpleasant scarring, and if someone hurt you in the past, we need to know that. Could you please tell us? You can write it down if you don't want to speak."

Toushiro felt his lungs still, staring at the golden-haired man in frozen shock before tendrils of clenching panic wound around his heart, chilling it to a lump of solid ice. Scars? Which scars had they seen? The white slash Aizen gave him? Or the circular patch of pale scar tissue just above his heart, where Bazz-B's fire had burned him from the inside out? Or perhaps it was the long, shoulder-to-hip streak that had nearly severed his spine in two, sending him to the ground only to lie there helplessly, watching as Matsumoto's still form hit the ground at his side, her blood pooling around her and staining her strawberry hair pink with-

Those who live together should die together. That's my style.

The blanket was soft-smooth-, a spreading stain of crimson blooming on the white of her obi- cold, that was cold, against his forehead, on the back of his neck- ice blooming in deadly splendor on Cang Du's back- easy, easy, listen to the heartbeat thudding beneath his ear. Breathe, in and out, one and two. That's it. Keep going.

"Easy, kiddo, I've got you. Come on now, can you feel how soft the blanket is?"

He blinked twice before he realized that Dr. Elrick was sitting on the edge of his bed, white-clad arms cradling his trembling torso gently. Sometime in between the moment that his past had blurred his reality and now, he'd curled in on himself. And then the gravity of what had just happened hit him, striking deep at his pride. Furious with himself, he jerked back, shoving the doctor away.

"Leave me alone!" he snapped, reaching blindly for Hyourinmaru. Terror seized him when he realized the blade wasn't in the room, and he whirled around, kicking back the sheets. He needed the dragon with him now, if only to reassure himself, to prove to himself that the wise creature was still coiled protectively around his heart. And then Dr. Elrick and the tall female doctor were moving, their hands on his arms and legs, holding him in place. He yelled wordlessly, on the brink of pulling his reiatsu forth to throw them off, but then there was a needle in his shoulder and suddenly his heart rate was dropping and he could breathe again and the tight compression round his chest was easing away.

Dr. Elrick carefully helped him lay back against the pillows, pressing a hand to his forehead gently. The golden-haired man's hazel eyes glinted with understanding and compassion, but Hitsugaya was surprised to not see any pity there. He sighed quietly, feeling lethargic and calm, slightly detached from reality.

"…You sedated me," he observed after a moment, staring up at the foreign doctor, but he couldn't bring himself to feel angry or upset. Dr. Elrick sighed, obvious regret in his voice.

"Yes, I did. And I would apologize to you, but I don't want to lie to you about something so simple," the man said gently. "You see, I'm a psychiatric specialist from the United States, and I happen to be very experienced in helping patients suffering from trauma, including Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. I was brought in on your case at Dr. Watanabe's request."

Hitsugaya swallowed, knowing that this information would matter to him later, and nodded once.

"Where's my Za- my sword?" he asked plaintively. "I need it – I've always had it."

Dr. Elrick raised an eyebrow, then glanced at the cat-policeman with a protective sharpness in those hazel eyes.

"If you would?" he relayed quietly. "It cannot be held as 'evidence' forever, and he probably needs it to feel safe."

The policeman with the cat's head nodded and rose from his seat. Then he paused by the door.

"Can the official record indicate that-"

"Yes, I'm diagnosing him. Put it on your records and do whatever you have to do to indicate this being his reason for running away from Elasticity via Quirk usage," the psychiatrist's voice was brisk but still tempered with the kind firmness that had initially allowed Hitsugaya to relax a bit. "My only question is this – Toushiro, can you answer another question for me?"

Hitsugaya felt a quick twinge of mild confusion at the sole use of his given name without an honorific, then remembered the man was foreign and nodded. Dr. Elrick smiled encouragingly.

"Now, I know that somebody has hurt you before, though I do not know when, why, or how. But if you were hurt so badly before this…why did you jump in to rescue the two boys from U.A. High School?"

Toushiro struggled to focus on the question, the sedative closing in on his mind, but he was coherent enough to answer properly. And when the question's meaning hit him, he let his face harden in fierce determination.

"I was the only one who could save them," he said, his voice strong, "so I did. The minute I let my personal problems prevent me from doing my job and protecting two innocent kids is the second I stop being Hitsugaya Toushiro."

The humans fell silent for a moment, processing this, and then the dark-haired man stood up and bowed to him.

"Then I must thank you," the tired-looking man said gravely. "You saved the lives of two of my students."

Shortly after this, the pair of doctors deemed the interview over, and after the cat-policeman brought Hyourinmaru to his wielder everyone was shooed from the room except Dr. Elrick, who sat down in a corner of the room to keep watch while Hitsugaya had access to a blade. Toushiro, for his part, ignored the golden-haired man. He was too tired to care, the sedative doing its work well, and he eventually fell asleep curled around the long blade, hugging the hilt to his chest.

The next two days passed in something of a repetitive blur, with the police and certain 'pro-heroes' coming in to speak with him in between meals and doctor check-ups. The strange spiritual buzzing that had made his skin itch remained constant, at times increasing in intensity, but Toushiro tried to ignore it, since he wasn't seeing side effects yet.

Dr. Watanabe was particularly shocked by how fast he was healing – by the time three days had passed, the gash in his thigh had closed enough for him to stand and walk on it, albeit aided by crutches. But then, on the morning of his last day in the hospital, a tiny mouse wearing a suit walked into his hospital room, followed by a massively muscular blonde man and the dark-haired teacher he'd met before. The odd group was accompanied by a few policemen and Dr. Elrick.

Hitsugaya sat fully up when the group entered his hospital room, Hyourinmaru's unsheathed blade lying across his knees. Dr. Elrick stiffened, then threw his patient a disapproving glance.

"Toushiro, I've told you to keep that sheathed, please."

Hitsugaya rolled his eyes, gently running his fingers along the keen edge. A sigh escaped him.

"It's Hitsugaya. I told you already, I've been training with this blade for years – I'm not going to accidentally cut myself. And I'm not a suicide risk," he said, but he dutifully slid the Zanpakutou back into his sheath and apologized to the disgruntled dragon in the back of his head. "Have you finally decided where I'm going to be placed?"

The cat-policeman from his first interview stepped forward, a serious look on his face. Hitsugaya was well aware that since he had no records, he would be a tricky individual to monitor. And he also knew that the pro-hero group was very interested in his 'Quirk' ability, or rather, the simple Shunpo he used to take down the Adjuchas. But if that was all they thought he could do, then he could deal with that. They'd already slapped the 'crazy' label on his back, which meant he'd be watched more closely than he really wanted. A slight scowl flickered across his face at the reminder of the PTSD misdiagnosis.

He was a veteran soldier of the two biggest disasters to strike Seireitei since the Quincy extermination when Yamamoto was young. Of course he'd be a little twitchy. He'd learned that paranoia to keep himself alive in battle, and without it he'd probably have died several times over. Even reflexes couldn't compare to experience.

"Yes, we have. Given your rather powerful Quirk, apparent experience, and your lack of records, it will be easiest to place you at a high school with a hero course, as those are typically taught by seasoned professionals who will not only be able to help you develop, but also keep an eye on you," the cat-policeman said. "U.A. High School, which educates the two boys whose lives you saved, has offered to host you there at their on-campus dormitories. I'd recommend taking the offer, as well – U.A. boasts the best hero program in the country."

Toushiro raised an eyebrow, but inwardly breathed a sigh of relief at the news. Installing himself in such a place would allow for his increased ability to locate an individual capable of returning him to Seireitei – heaven knows searching from the shadows hadn't turned up any leads. So he looked up at the dark-haired teacher he remembered from the first conversation – the boys' teacher – and his two oddly-matched companions. Carefully, he allowed a hint of a smile to twitch at the corners of his mouth.

"If I say yes to this arrangement, what happens?" he asked, curious in spite of himself. True, he hadn't been to school of any kind since his awful experiences at the Shinou Academy, and the idea of being around children was rather unpleasant, but at least he'd be in a better position to search for a way home. The mouse-like creature clapped its paws together.

"Well now, that's where I would come in," the mouse tittered pleasantly. "I am Nedzu, the principal of U.A. High School. I think you have already met Aizawa-sensei – he'd be your homeroom teacher if you decided to come with us – and the larger man with me is All Might, the top hero in the country, both in popularity and the number of successful missions he's completed. He's now a teacher at our fine institution."

The two teachers waved, though All Might was much more enthusiastic about the whole thing than Aizawa was, and Hitsugaya felt a sort of sympathy well up in him for the dark-haired man. Dealing with an overly-optimistic man like All Might must be a chore. Nedzu then continued on.

"If you choose to come with us, you'll be discharged from the hospital today, and we'll give you a room in our school dorms. Then as soon as you're settled in, we'll take you to meet your classmates. Then, we'll give you a brief tour of the school," Nedzu concluded. "Since it's already so late in the school year, you'll receive a tutor to help you catch up, and you can start attending classes in the next few days. And because you're currently parentless, your tuition will come out of the state fund, which means the school will provide you with a weekly allowance so long as you participate in the work-study program."

Toushiro considered the situation for a brief moment. He didn't really have many other options, and if he could forge connections enough to get insider information on anyone with dimension-warping Quirks, getting home would be a piece of cake. Besides, with the PTSD tag hanging over his head, he doubted he'd be placed anywhere nearly as free as a high school campus should he choose not to take the offer.

So he looked up and nodded once, unabashedly making eye contact with the furry mouse-person.

"Then I suppose I'm saying yes."

As always, please review with commentary! I can and just may give a plot-based spoiler to the person with the best review ;)

~avtorSola