A/N: Will move to M for language - Toushiro's a very salty character when he wants to be. Post Aizen/Fullbring, Ignoring Vandenreich. Likely will continue this universe, but in the beginning it's simply the collision of Avengers and shinigami. One shinigami in particular.

"Thoughts" "~Artificial Communications~" "Zanpakutou speaking" "Japanese"

Prologue

He was falling too fast to control his descent.

A strained, fluttering smirk lit Hitsugaya's pale face as he plummeted kilometers at a time, the ice which was trying to stem the flow of blood chipping away as he tumbled towards the faraway skin of his beloved jade planet. His wings had crumbled long ago, when he'd carved through the stupid leftover Arrancar's blasted Resurrecion and slaughtered the pitiful invader. It was his job to defend the World of the Living, and he'd rather be damned to suffer hell's fire for a thousand lifetimes than be kept from doing his sworn duty. But he hadn't received permission for the Gentei Kaijo, the Limiter Release, until after the Arrancar had clawed his side, sending him into a haze of blood loss. It was in this state that he'd lunged and slain his opponent. Now he was in free fall from his battleground above the clouds. The wounds he'd received would likely kill him before he reached the ground, if the blood beginning to seep through cracks in his melting ice meant anything, and there was nobody who could catch him. He'd been sent through the Senkaimon alone.

But he'd gone down victorious.

The daffodil-shaped seal on his chest still shone there, like a dark tattoo just over his heart, but he knew releasing it would have no effect. His reiatsu had already sunk well below the 20% mark. What he had now was all he had left.

It was hard to breathe while falling, he thought, his blurring, slowing mind growing pleasantly fuzzy. He was close to passing out, and the pain that had previously accompanied the claw-marks in his side was fading away. He struggled to concentrate. The Earth's verdant surface was still a distant, intangible idea. If he lost consciousness now, he'd likely only have another ten to fifteen minutes before his heartbeat failed.

Perhaps he would die on the Earth's surface after all.

But then, without even the slightest inkling of a warning, something impossibly hard like metal or stone slammed into his back with enough force to shatter every bone in a human's body. Odd, considering that he hadn't seen anything below him a moment ago.

But then Toushiro's head cracked against stone and stars blossomed across his vision. He blacked out.

The ship shuddered in the air, rocking for just the briefest moment before the pilots managed to steady the flight path. But that brief disturbance was enough to set everyone on edge. Loki had only just been imprisoned in the cage made for the Hulk – should he have broken free of Banner's control – and now something unknown had collided with the left side of their airship's runway.

Nick Fury paused from his position at the bridge of the ship, stiffening in both surprise and anticipation. Was it a rescue attempt already? Or had Loki set some sort of trap? Neither were options he wanted to consider, but they seemed like the only possible scenarios that made any sort of sense. He cursed under his breath, glancing back into the oblong meeting room just behind him, where Thor, Stark, Rogers, Banner and Agent Romanoff had been waiting, discussing Loki's unknown motivations. They were already moving out, likely heading towards the nearest door that would grant them access to the concrete runway.

Or, at least, Rogers was moving and Thor was striding effortlessly after him. Stark seemed too interested in inane chatter with Banner – who was wisely staying inside – to possibly be contemplating running after the WWII captain. And Agent Romanoff, who had since reappeared among the computers down below, was attempting to get a visual of the area where they'd been hit.

At least four out of five were on task – even if Thor wasn't technically answerable to them, given that he was from Asgard.

Suddenly one of the men monitoring the ship's systems called out from below, his voice laced with a touch of disbelief.

"Sir, Agent Romanoff has visual and audio from Captain Rogers!" he said. Fury took a step forward, noticing the man's stunned hesitation.

"Well, what's the situation?" he demanded. "Don't stand there like a gaping idiot. Pull it up so we can all see, and open communications with Rogers."

The man did as he was told, and a sharp color picture popped up on each of the luminous computer screens. Fury stood almost speechless for a moment, and then Rogers's voice echoed through the vast room, sounding somewhat panicked – unusual for him – and more than a little startled.

"~Sir, are you seeing this?~" he asked. "~Because I'm really hoping that this is some sort of nightmare.~"

Through the visual feed, Fury could see that whatever had hit them had left a shallow crater in the concrete, though the damage was more superficial than anything else. And besides this crater, the windswept runway was empty. There was no sign of any enemy action whatsoever. The scene was innocuous and clearly not hostile. But the truly horrific part of the images on screen was the expression of unadulterated concern and considerable fear on Thor's face and the limp form he cradled gently in his strong arms.

A child's body.

"I see it, Captain." he said heavily. For a moment, Rogers said nothing, but when he again spoke, it was to Thor that his words were addressed.

"~Thor, is he breathing?~"

For a moment, there was silence, but then the lightning demigod nodded a confirmation. For the first time, Fury saw the long sword strapped to the boy's back and the dark crimson liquid dripping slowly from the sheathed blade.

"~Yes, though I fear he will not be so for much longer. This child needs immediate medical attention if he is to have any hope of surviving his wounds.~" the hammer-wielding alien said seriously.

Fury studied the unconscious child's unusual clothing and exotic features with a keen eye, noting that the child was wearing something distinctly Oriental in fashion – and that the white, coat-like garment was blotched with a spreading scarlet stain. A rapidly spreading stain.

"Get him inside." the SHIELD director said, making an executive decision. "I'll ready a medical team. But for God's sake, one of you stays with that kid. If he can make a dent in solid stone and metal with nothing but his skin and a few layers of cloth then he's definitely not your average teenager. And confiscate that sword of his. Understood?"

"~Understood, sir. We're coming back in.~"

Agent Romanoff shut down the live feed as Captain Rogers and Thor sped back inside. Then she stood, her face as masklike as ever and looked at Fury with something like a challenge in her cold glare.

"I'm heading up to speak with Captain Rogers and Thor." She said calmly. "And I'll take the kid's weapon while I'm at it."

Fury made no move to forbid her from doing so, so she ran up the metal stairs and disappeared into the depths of the ship. Having the Russian woman there would be a great help in gaining the boy's trust, especially if he turned out to be a civilian accidentally caught up in forces that he didn't understand. Natasha was very good at being the kind one. But somehow, Nick Fury didn't think that would be the case.

After all, how many preteens carried swords around on their backs?