hitsuhina-week

[hitsuhina-week]

what did you ask for? (to be with you)

A GIFT FOR @canariie | AO3 LINK

Hitsugaya stares at her as if she’s speaking in tongues. He turns his attention back to the more scenic sight, missing the look Hinamori gives him. She’ll describe it as longing, in a much later time when they’re all grown up. Today, as they finish dinner with his grandmother, she’ll break the news. It will be the first time that he'll become uncomfortable with winter. His seasons, previously enjoyed with performative nonchalance, will lose color and comparatively feel dull than any others before.

“Hurry!”

Hinamori can barely keep up with Hitsugaya’s strong, nimble limbs. She might be older (if we assume by height), but their ages might not be too far apart for her to be breathless like this.

It’s the cold, Her exhale immediately gets lost in the curtain of thick fog. She relies on her feet and muscle memory and the numerous indentations left by fellow dwellers to not veer off the trail. At the peak, there is a statue, and while West Rukongai does not necessarily worship, there is a belief that the stones molded into shape will grant your prayers, only that you have to climb it on the first day of snowfall.

Which turned out to be in the negatives today.

And yet, Hitsugaya is conquering the cotton killer fluff with a sleeveless undershirt and blind faith. He is warm where she is cold, and this natural affinity to adapt in harsh conditions stirs a foreign envy in her.

“Slowpoke!” His voice almost a howl. “We need to get back before my afternoon nap!”

“Shut up!” She yells back. It’s her folly, she guesses, to miss the crevice and slip against the crack. It’s a steep fall, her mind registers. I’ll probably die.

Calloused hand thrusts out from the icy veil to grab her wrist, followed by a grin so cheeky it can only be from someone indomitable.

When they reached the top, his sight was first grabbed by the sea of clouds while hers was the statue. It was simply a pile of rocks stacked on top of one another in dubious balance, but it managed to weather the biting wind, as well as the gasping heat and the torrential rains that came seasons before. Hinamori held her head down and prayed to this resilient structure.

“What did you ask for?”

“Be like this statue,” she replies, a bit lost in thought, “despite the changes.”

Hitsugaya stares at her as if she’s speaking in tongues. “You should have asked for a good harvest and lots of watermelons!” He sticks out his tongue in usual childhood annoyance and turns his attention back to the more scenic sight, missing the look Hinamori gives him. She’ll describe it as longing, in a much later time when they’re all grown up.

But today, as they finish dinner with his grandmother, she’ll break the news. “I’m going to Soul Society.”

It will be the first time that Hitsugaya becomes uncomfortable with winter. His seasons, previously enjoyed with performative nonchalance, will lose color and comparatively feel dull than any others before.

When Rangiku, his future lieutenant and his would-be confidante, finally sniffs him out due to his uncontrollable reishi, Hitsugaya sets in plan his destiny in Seireitei. After all, Hinamori wasn’t the only one to make a wish to that statue on that day.

A childhood plea but a sincere intention all the same.

To be together, even for a little longer. Despite the changes.

—--------------------

“Do you have a gift for me, Captain Histugaya?” Rangiku plays up her doe eyes at him.

He closes the file on his desk. “No, I don’t believe in consumerism.”

“Oh come on, it’s Christmas in the human world. You should at least live a little.”

“Said someone who left me with a mountain of administrative tasks to be done. Because of you, I can’t live a little.”

Rangiku claps her hands together and leans towards the door for an unexisting sound. “Yeah? No, I’ll be out in like five seconds tops!” She turns her attention back to him, though one foot is already near the exit. “Captain, I forgot I have a very important appointment to go to. Bye!”

He rolls his eyes, partly annoyed, but mostly relieved he can finally enjoy some moment of silence. Seconds into that serene atmosphere, consecutive knocks arrive at his space.

“Matsumoto—!”

“—Shiro-kun! Oh, did I catch you at a bad time?” Hinamori steps out of the doorframe, her small frame accentuated by the absent Gotei regalia. Her hair, usually held in a low bun, is loose, silky black strands settling just below her shoulders. She wears clothes which his lieutenant might describe as cozy conservative, and carries a wicker basket as if the season outside is the tranquil spring. Against the stark rigidity of his bureaucratic office, she stands in contrast.

“No,” he manages to say. It takes him a minute but he reaches her side, a few inches short below her height, and takes the basket out of her hands. “Is this lunch? Don’t tell me you feel sorry for me?”

“Well, Rangiku passed by our division and asked me to give you a lending hand,” she chuckles.

“And you were able to prepare all this food in under ten minutes?”

She shrugs and pretends not to notice the absurd logistics of her excuse, but Hitsugaya lets it pass. It benefits him to not ask questions and simply revel in her presence. 

It’s a spread of all his favorite things, most notably natto and watermelon slices, while she takes out a box of tuna onigiri, freshly baked cookies and green tea. Quintessential Momo.

Like the olden days, they eventually settle into that easy familiarity. With the basket emptied and thermos dried out, Momo pulls out another surprise.

It’s a miniature of the West Rukongai forest inside a glass ball.

“I had it customized.” She beams widely. “Go on, shake it.”

Hitsugaya smirks at the almost childlike gesture but indulges her anyway. Flurries of white envelopes all space, mimicking winter in the place they first called home. A snow globe.

“It’s—” he chokes up, “—it’s all right.”

“You should sound more awed, you know.”

“This is my best effort, Momo.”

He swears he hears Hyourinmaru laugh alongside Hinamori. It takes a lot of effort to stay unaffected even though his heart almost feels like leaping off the very same cliff he once saved her from. He takes several breaths, waiting until the snow settles on the bottom, before he takes out his gift.

“Here.” He pulls out a knitted red scarf from the bag and scoots closer to her. She must have sensed his hesitancy or he might have hallucinated the way she leaned closer to him so he could wrap the scarf around her neck. His fingers linger on both ends of the fabric. “Since you always have a cold bug.”

The scarf’s color bounces off Hinamori’s cheeks. In a quieter voice, “Th-Thanks, Shiro.”

Still holding on, he replies, “It’s Captain Hitsugaya to you.”

“—Hey Toshiro, I’m really sorry! I came back early to help—” 

They scramble away to the farthest corner possible in the short time Rangiku shows up.

“Oh, am I interrupting something?” His lieutenant zeroes in on the bright color. “That’s a pretty nice scarf, Momo-chan. It perfectly suits you.” 

Hinamori rushes to the door in haste without glancing at him. “No worries, I was just leaving. I only brought him a meal.” She stops just before the doorframe swallows her. “Thank you, Shiro-kun.”

He can hear the smile in that last word, and ever so deftly, his lieutenant catches it too, even the subtle lift of his lips in cognizance.

“I thought you didn’t believe in consumerism, huh?” Rangiku presses.

“You mentioned helping?”

—--------------------

“This is a character development,” Rangiku brandishes Hitsugaya as if he’s a centerpiece.

“The last time I invited him, he stayed holed up in my room,” Ichigo echoes. “It’s a good thing you could come, Hitsugaya.”

He could only grumble. He hates crowds, but even more so crowds during Christmas. Humans are so obsessed with ephemeral things like celebrations. His displeasure, however, does not dampen their rowdy party: Ichigo, Orihime, Chad, Uryuu, Rukia, Renji. Rangiku, Kira, Shinji, and Hinamori. A mismatched group but still whole, before the world crashes down on them the next few months.

He carefully side-eyes his childhood friend. She looks better, happier even, ever since Shinji arrived. In place of her long hair is a short bob underneath a dark plum beret. She doesn’t wear the scarf he gave ages ago, not after he stabbed her, not after that time when he thought he lost her. The snow globe is tucked in the first drawer of his table. He takes a peek every morning and watches that side of the world stuck in time.

“You’re gonna fall behind.” It’s Hinamori’s voice. They’ve kept their distance, described at best as amicable, recognizing each other’s presence only through a nod of a head, so this is her first direct reference to him with the many layers of conversation peeled back bare.

Hitsugaya freezes on his heels while the rest of the people move forward. Someone ahead of them shouts, spotting a celebrity, and the number triples in seconds. He wants to go to her.

“Captain—” Hinamori resists the surge of movement. “Shiro-kun, what are you doing?” She shoulders her way against bulky figures, but she’s too petite and she stumbles backward to be engulfed by the sea of motions.

His instinct kicks in and he catches her, his grip finding anchor on her waist. He pulls her to the curb where there’s enough space to breathe. “Shinji or Rukia must have noticed our reishi separating from their group. They’ll find us soon.”

He glances at her and finds her unshaken. In the chaos, she lost her beret, and all of her hair is now swaying in the night breeze. “That’s all right.”

“It’s my fault. I don’t know what came over me.”

“No worries. It’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

“What is?”

“To be away from the crowd. It’s more peaceful in this corner.”

Hitsugaya nods. “It’s good that you could come.”

“Ah I was peer-pressured mostly by Renji and Rangiku,” she softly laughs. “Captain Shinji also said it would be nice to go out and have fun.”

He sighs, “Too bad you couldn’t have fun now.”

She lightly shoves him, still laughing against her mittens. “Don’t be silly. I’m having fun now. I’m with you.”

He hears his own sharp intake of breath and his eyes hyperfixate on the minute details of her face, the way her eyes remain on the streets, how the changing lights reflect on her irises, her lips chapped from the cold, the little braid behind her ear. “Momo, you should stop doing that.”

She turns to him slowly, and he realizes how red her cheeks are. “Doing what?” She must be so cold.

“Making my heart—”

“Hey you two!” Ichigo shouts across the street. Beside him is Chad who basically towers over everyone and ultimately serves as their beacon for direction.

 “Oh they found us. You were right, Shiro.” She suddenly scrambles to get to them. 

“Wait for me, Momo.” Hitsugaya grabs her hand just before she ventures into the moving cluster of humans. “I might get lost again.” He sees Shinji catching his act, smirking as he confirms his long thought out theories about the two of them.

He plans to let go of Hinamori before they reach the whole group, but the tower clock suddenly strikes twelve, followed by a clamoring of bells and fireworks. Squeezed against warm bodies, it registers to Hitsugaya and Hinamori that everyone is kissing.

Someone nudges him forward. “Yo dude, you should kiss your date. It’s tradition.”

He’s suddenly weightless, reeled in by some force of gravity. In hindsight, he should’ve let go of Momo, shoved her backwards, or redirected his body as if in battle. But this is human world, and he is riding on some ephemeral happiness, and so he stumbles against her, shoulder to shoulder, and his lips graze her cheek.

He waits for a slap, a reprimand, but Hinamori looks out of breath as well. He loosens his grip, gives her an out if she wants to, but it’s her fingers that wrap against his this time.

“They’re looking for us.”

“Momo.”

“Hmm?”

“I— Someone pushed me—”

“I know. I saw.”

“Huh?

“I saw it, Shiro-kun,” she smiles, “so please don’t say sorry.” 

She saw, Hitsugaya thought, which meant she had every chance to move. “Huh?” This won’t be the last time he’ll be out of words in front of her.

“Merry Christmas, Captain Hitsugaya.” Then she lets go of his hand.

—--------------------

“Humans are sure fond of merrymaking.”

They find themselves in the same place many years after, when the worst was finally over and the aftermath of the battles have become simply a memory, navigating the maps of human bodies and still finding a place beside each other. Hinamori thinks it’s nothing short of a miracle—to come out of the wreckage and remain unchanged (in whatever this is, she adds in her head).

They decided, on a whim, to visit the human world. Spontaneity is a foreign concept, both of them so used to rigidity of routines and structures, but somehow there has always been an exception in moments where it concerns the other. The group they went with before is leading their separate lives. They are busy making memories and seizing the present, heightened from the cusp of losing the privilege of existing. 

It is this sentiment that they are riding tonight—the possibility of missing a chance—though this, they may never admit out loud.

“Are you regretting it now, Shiro-kun?”

“The crowd, yes,” he replies in all honesty, brows furrowed, lips in a tight line. Then he glances at her and everything softens with a rare smile. “That doesn’t include you.”

“Good, I really wanted to see the fireworks,” she reasons.

“Haven’t Shinji taken you several times?”

“They’re always different. They change colors, sometimes they have patterns too.”

He chuckles beside her, and something behind him catches her attention. Stragglers hang thin strips of paper with their handwriting on the bare branches of a large tree. Hinamori tugs on Hitsugaya’s sleeve, and he catches her off guard by holding her hand and pulling her to the activity area.

“I might lose you,” he says under his breath. (Did you know, Momo, it was the same words he uttered when he faced Aizen and when he battled without Hyourinmaru? He could never lose you.)

She looks at the writings holding the people’s many wishes into the universe for the coming year. Human lives are short compared to those like them who could live out centuries. The intentions varied from simple (‘I want a boyfriend!’) to more complex ones (‘I want to be finally happy’). Hinamori considers how happiness is subjective across souls, and how, right at this moment, she could describe herself as happy.

“What are you writing?” Hitsugaya asks her. “I already put mine up.”

“Huh?” She surveys the papers in front of them. “That’s unfair, I didn’t get to see it.”

“I don’t think you need to see it.” He turns a shade of red. “It’s personal.”

She relents with a sigh. “You probably wrote longer nap times.” She turns her back on him as she quickly scribbles the first thought that comes. Hitsugaya tries to appear uninterested but she can see him in her periphery stealing glances over her shoulder. It’s a good thing that she remains taller than him.

“Ha! Done!”

“Well, that’s unfair,” he echoes.

Their banter gets interrupted by a loud trumpet, followed by a clock ticking down to midnight.

“Oh, it’s happening!”

The lights on the ground turn off to emphasize the dark night sky. 

“Ten…night…eight…seven…”

Hitsugaya chooses to set his gaze on her. “Did you remember that tradition..?”

“Six…five…four…”

“Yeah, I remember.” Hinamori tears her eyes from the sky and stares back at him against the darkness.

“Two…one… Happy New Year!”

“Can I kiss you?”

She sees Hitsugaya’s face lean in just as the fireworks start their ephemeral performance. The air is crisp with winter air and firecracker smoke, and she’s combusting when his lips find hers underneath the bursts of light.

He pulls away in mere seconds, and she can see the gears of his mind work towards an overdrive. He is second guessing and wondering if it was enough, if he could ever be enough, and she wants to tell him—

“Yes.” And she pulls him to her again and kisses him back with certainty. When it’s all over, the people have scattered, the sky has retreated to its shadows, and she’s still in his arms.

“Happy New Year, Momo.”

—--------------------

Hinamori finds it’s the afterparty she looks forward to the most. Long after all the plates have been washed, the cups flipped to dry, and the doors locked, the silence basks in the traces left from the evening’s friendly noise.

They managed to clear majority of the clutter, but strips and pieces of litter remain scattered about—ribbons, gift wraps, firecracker ashes—a nice chore best reserved for the first day of the new year.

“Our dear hostess must be tired.” Hitsugaya’s hands ease on her shoulders and massage the tight knots that have accumulated over the day. 

“Come on Shiro. I know the kids drained your energy today.” She stifles the bubbling laughter from a recent memory of when Renji’s and Ichigo’s respective toddlers ran amok across the courtyard and Hitsugaya had to chase them off his rock installations.

“They’re not toddlers.”

“And they’re also still kids.”

The winter breeze lands on her skin and she shivers at the contact. Her husband pulls her to the kotatsu, entangling her legs with his underneath, a fairly good excuse to just snuggle and burrow and pretend to hibernate (at least until the weekend’s over).

They’re sitting across the wide windows where they’re afforded a rare view of a perfect night sky, a blank charcoal slate after being painted with bursts of colors from earlier festivities. The moon and stars are cruising in a silent voyage to an audience of two. 

Well, three.

Hotaru manages to crawl on Hitsugaya’s lap and juts out his nose for a boop. He brings with him Hinamori’s red scarf, frayed from several wears, and is now his favorite blanket. She reaches over and indulges their blind, snow-colored cat. Seemingly happy, his paws start making biscuits while his purrs lull them into a much awaited slumber.

Soon enough, the heavens open up to a muted shower of snow. It is a familiar sight, a nostalgic picture of their childhood home, a picture contained in a glass globe from a long ago gift.

Hinamori almost falls asleep with her head on his shoulder, but her eyes quickly catch the stroke of bright light across the sky.

“Momo, make a wish,” Hitsugaya whispers against her hair.

A moment passes. “Done.”

“So, what did you wish for?”

She looks at him, baffled. “You always ask for that!”

“I can’t help it if I’m curious.”

“No.”

He changes tactics. “Okay, I’ll offer you an olive branch. One wish of mine to one of yours.”

“That’s unfair. I always wish for the same thing.”

“Since when?”

“Since we went on that mountain.” Hinamori considers the length of time she knows him, the gravity of memories and circumstance, and the very privilege of having that prayer answered. “I asked for the very same thing I’m wishing for right now.”

She sees how he recalls the moment, watches how the playfulness of his features soften into that of understanding and gratefulness. It had been that long.

“To let us stay in each other’s lives, not for a while, but longer, maybe forever-kind-of-long.”

To be together, even for a little longer. Despite the changes.

“Hmm.” He smiles and then chuckles. “Did you know I asked whatever god there was that day to let me stay with you? It was selfish and unreasonable, especially knowing you really wanted to go. After you left, it sought out many other mountains. I looked for the rest of the shrines, all the genuine and the makeshift, and prayed the same prayer. It turned out I managed to get through to at least one god.”

She could only stare in disbelief. “Wow.”

“What—you never thought I had it in me?”

She shakes her head and laughs. “You were always so tenacious, Shiro.”

“We have this year.” He leans in and places a soft kiss on her lips. “And the next and next and next and next.”

“And the rest of our lives.”

@hitsuhina-week

#hitsuhina gift exchange 2023 #fanfiction #fanfiction 2023

[hitsuhina-week]

For your reblogs milestone requests (congratulations!!) If this pings you, I'd love to see Hitsugaya + Hinamori + CAMPING. Good trip, bad trip, planned, unplanned, business, pleasure... Any kind of camping and any kind of tone!

how to start a fire

Rating: K+

“Hinamori, you’re imagining things—go to sleep.”

“I am not,” she hissed, with a little more bite than intended. She was still bitter about their squabble. “I know there’s something out there.” She turned to her backpack, fumbling around in the dark as she searched for the flashlight. “Did you read the information pack that Hisagi-san had sent? Apparently, this used to be a habitat for bears.”

“Yes, and I read the amended version Ise-fuukutaicho sent—the local bear population has become endangered. The only thing we’re in danger of is losing our sleep,” he grumbled.

…

Momo is sent to train Toushiro in the World of the Living in combination kido.

Word Count: 3670 words

Setting: after the Bleach Anniversary Hell Chapter

Prompt: @hitsuhina-week Gift Exchange 2023 for @whipplefilter

"maybe we didn't argue, but we don't agree"/ "Hitsugaya asks Hinamori to teach him her kidou-weaving"/"HitsuHina from unexpected/outside POVs"

Authour’s Note: This is SO LATE IN ALL THE SENSES. Firstly, because Whipple sent this request in like, summer. And then I was matched with them for the Gift Exchange which I thought I could make! but holidays! & falling sick! (are we really ever as productive as we would like over the holidays??)

(Thank you @rays-of-fire-and-ice for being understanding!)

When I saw the prompts that Whipple sent, I immediately thought of their initial fic request & thought it was such a perfect thing to combine! Unfortunately, I couldn't get in the Hitsuhina from an outside POV but maybe one day in the future!

I had a lot of fun trying to flesh this out and was really happy to go back to writing after so long! However, I believe much like the rest of the fandom, life is going to get busy in the coming months for me and I won't be as active in writing as I would like to :( I hope to still participate in events but it does really inspire me reading everyone's work when I come back to try to write on me own!!

Happy New Year everyone! Here's hoping 2024 is one with happiness and laughter and fun for everyone!!

I hope you all enjoy this!

---

Momo dropped her duffel bag and began to rummage around it, pushing overnight clothes and toiletries aside. “Here’s a clearing: we can proceed here.”

Toushiro looked around skeptically, noting the abandoned fire pits and wooden pavilions in the distance. “Won’t we be disturbing the humans?”

“Soutaicho had reserved the whole camping ground area while the Twelfth Division set up a barrier that would send any human that would walk towards the training facilities, confused but turned around.” She swallowed the gikon pill, feeling her human body leave her as if she were shedding a coat off.

The tenth captain raised an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t the Kido Corps have facilitated that?”

Momo shrugged, though she admitted she wondered about the ethics of the research division sometimes. “All the training leaders were assured that they wouldn’t be harmed. Nanao-san also reiterated that each cell would be allocated a parcel of the forest—so we don’t have to worry about anyone else while we train.”

With the new frontier of Hell on the line, the Gotei 13 were implementing new training tactics to prepare for the unknown battle. Each division had received a list of candidates for leaders of the cell groups—specific internal training groups to provide targeted instruction on skills soldiers may find lacking. Momo had been selected from the Fifth Division to lead high level kido proficiency, specifically on combination spells. The leaders ranged in rank, from captains to lieutenants and even high ranked seated officers. She had heard later from Matsumoto, Ikkaku had been selected to lead swordsmanship skills, Isane for healing during combat, a fourth seat in the eighth division for defensive spells among many. The cell groups would then be volunteers from across the Gotei 13 that would train with the leaders in World of the Living on a reserved human camping site.

Momo had been flattered (even when her captain had bemoaned jokingly why he hadn’t been picked) but was also left feeling disconcerted at the letter.

A few weeks ago, there was an expedition team sent out earlier to understand the spells and mechanisms that opened Hell’s Doors as well as scope its initial terrain. The list was short and concise with only a few captains and lieutenants selected. Renjii & Rukia were on the list as they had already prior experience in the hellscape. Momo had been keen to go, as she heard her name was nominated by Rukia to help with kido to break down the entrance. However, the day before the mission, her name was taken off the list with a curt note saying that her kido services would no longer be required. During the prior lieutenant’s meeting Renjii looked at her with a regretful glance, squeezing her shoulder sympathetically and she later received an apology Hell Butterfly from the Thirteen Captain before the expedition team left.

Momo had walked back to the Fifth Division in a daze, feeling a bit bereft at the sudden change in plans. The shock must have been evident on her face as her captain immediately took one look at her before bringing her to the couch and placing a warm cup of tea in her hands.

“Hitsugaya-taicho seems to have requested you for your first training session.”

“Why?” Momo asked. She had been reviewing the list of volunteers who wanted to train with her and was surprised at the number of people. If she were to spend time with each one, she would have to remain in the World of the Living for at least a month.

However, she had not seen Toushiro’s name on her initial list—much less expected him to volunteer. The tenth captain was quick on his feet in battle and she never assumed his skills were lacking.

Hirako-taicho shrugged. “Maybe he wants a brush up as well? I know he had gone on the Hell Expedition Team & him and the little Kuchiki realized there was some reworking off spells to be done.”

That got Momo to pause as she was sorting through the files. It had been a couple of weeks since the team had returned from Hell. “Hitsugaya-taicho had joined the expedition?” As far as she knew, he was never a candidate for the expedition, and he hadn’t mentioned anything like that to her.

Her captain stilled, his eyes avoiding her questioning look. “I believe he was the last-minute change…”

“Hirako-taicho—why did Hitsugaya-kun go on the expedition?”

He sighed in quiet exasperation. “I heard from Abarai that Hitsugaya-taicho requested you off the mission,” he said reluctantly. “And when there was no other candidate to go, he volunteered himself.”

“And why would he do that?” she asked quietly, still processing what she had heard.

Hirako shook his head, his bangs falling away from his eyes. “He never brought it up at the captain’s meeting. He went directly to the Soutaicho & the expedition team.”

The news sat with Momo as she prepared her training plan and packed her bags to go the World of the Living. The unease festered inside of her, leaving her with feelings of self-doubt and anxiety. She found herself unable to sleep well and only when she stepped onto the campgrounds and breathed in the fresh air, could she feel the tension loosening in her shoulder.

Momo had an earlier departure time and was preparing the grounds when the Tenth Captain dropped in, much later in the evening when the sky was hedging into dusk. It had been the first time they had seen each other in a long while, and Momo was still feeling unsettled—so introductions were short, and she immediately led him to the training area where she was now beginning a demonstration. If the boy noticed anything unusual, he made no comment and followed suit.

Momo slipped into teaching mode, something she had learned while part-timing at the academy to help compartmentalize her life as a lecturer separate from a lieutenant.

“We’ll start off with one of my prior combination spells in battle: from during the Winter War era when Rangiku-san and I had to fight the three arrancars.” She avoided looking at Toushiro for she knew much after the fact that he hadn’t approved of her coming onto the battlefield—which apparently, things still hadn’t changed between them. “Let me show you first.”

The girl lifted her hands in front of her, demonstrating as she spoke. “The strength of the spell also comes from the foundation of the pose. I know after we graduate and go into battle, it’s very easy to skip this step as we’ve become comfortable with the incantations.” She moved her hands as if they were framing a triangle. “However, as we introduce combination spells, I find that there’s strength in using combative stances with defensive spells and vice versa.”

Her student nodded along, with a furrow in his eyebrows that Momo knew he was mentally taking notes.

“It started off with Hadou 12 Fuishibi: I had used it as a defensive base before obscuring it with a concealment spell.”

“That was Kyokou, right?” Toushiro piped in.

She nodded in affirmation. “Yes—that was the key to catching the arrancar off. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to blindside them in the initial attack.”

Toushiro’s eyebrow raised slowly, almost as if he were impressed if Momo had to guess. “That’s quite commendable that you were able to weave that many kidou together—especially for your first time.”

Momo had to stop herself from reacting openly to that. She hadn’t remembered telling him that it was her first attempt, a decision crossed in between luck and adrenaline. However, she had a lot to prove—and evidently, there were still people that doubted her.

“However, the key is finding the right igniting spell: Shakaho is a common one and it doesn’t matter how proficient you are in kidou—it’ll still give you the right amount of power you need.”

She beckoned with her head, her arms still held in front of her in stance. “You can follow me for now and then we can try separately on our own, Hitsugaya-taicho.”

When he mirrored suit, she started reciting the incantations—pausing in between lines to explain the steps.

“You start trying to imagine a series of lines, crossing each other. Imagine the intersection and focus on that. Personally, for me, it helps to visualize the centers becoming brighter to build a stronger net.”

“Like Bakudo #4, Hainawa?”

Momo winced, sensing the kidou web pull away from her. “Not really. It’s the foundation—it’s not the main goal. You’re setting up trajectory for the blast to follow.”

“Is it necessary to recite the full spell?”

“Sort of—I find it helpful to not focus fully on the incantation but instead what it represents. Breaks down the rigidity of the tradition and make it more malleable in combining different spells.”

“How do you control the scale of the net?”

“It’s all in the visualization—you need to imagine it,” she responded quickly as she felt herself faltering. The net grew dimmer and wilted, like a flower causing Momo to repeat the previous line again. She wasn’t used to being interrupted so often.

“When do you switch hand positions?”

“Hold on Hitsugaya—”, Momo could feel the net pull away from her like a storm wind catching hold of a kite. She proceeded forward and, in her haste, she skipped two lines ahead in the incantation.   

The effects were immediate with the strings of the net burning brighter and brighter. Momo faltered, immediately stopping the incantation but it was too late. The net hummed in power before it exploded, sending sparks back at the shinigami & the wooden structures.

Momo could only watch as Toushiro immediately called a cool wind forth to snuff out the embers, leaving just a sizzling trail of smoke as the remains of the misspell.

“I think we better call it for the night,” he said with a measured tone, evaluating the scene.

The slip back into their gigai was so quiet and routine that even the shift of corporeal bodies couldn’t cut the thick tension between the two. The moon was hanging high & alone by the time they had returned silently back to their campsite.

Momo immediately started collecting broken branches and twigs to start the fire. She kept her head down, repeating the recent events in her head over and over. Even though Toushiro had been peppering her with questions, she knew she was accustomed to that from teaching new recruits—and inwardly Momo knew that it was her earlier feelings towards the young captain that made her mess up the incantation. There was a strong part of her that was ashamed for getting her emotions get in the way of teaching—something she had promised herself she would learn to keep professional and private matters separate.

Momo sighed deeply, walking back to their clearing, and dumping the wood into the firepit. As she rearranged the pieces into a tented position, she could feel Toushiro’s eyes on her—much like earlier, observing quietly and learning.

“It’s to help structure the flame,” she explained quietly. Momo pulled some newspapers she had brought with her and began shredding them over the pit.

“How do you know how to do this?”

“Hirako-taicho and I went on camping trips as a way to get to know each other when we first started working together. The other Vizards would also join us as well.”

Toushiro rolled his eyes. “It still amazes me how he can circumvent rules to do it.” It was an offhand comment, nothing out of the ordinary for the young captain. However, at that moment it deeply grated at her nerves, and it struck raw.

Momo snapped a branch in her hand. “Hirako-taicho completes his work as necessary. He also doesn’t cross the line—unlike you Hitsugaya-taicho.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about, Hinamori?”

“You pulled rank and took me off the Hell expedition,” she said curtly, yanking out the matchstick box from her pocket and snapping the match strong against the box.

There was a pause where Momo could only hear the friction of the match. “You’re not ready,” Toushiro said carefully, as if he were approaching a skittish creature. “There are far too many unknowns, and the risk is too great.”

“You had no business deciding to do so.” The match didn’t catch, and Momo cursed under her breath as she flicked it to the ground. She pulled another one out and began again.

“Other lieutenants were pulled off as well, it came down to essential personnel only.”

“No, Hitsugaya-taicho, you are a captain of the Tenth Division and were overstepping your bounds. Kuchiki-san had requested me on that mission for my skills and you decided to pull me off.”

The match ignited brightly in her hands. Momo dropped it into the pile of wood where it immediately spurred into large flames. She looked up to see the fire reflecting in his turquoise eyes, resolute.

“If I had to do it again, I would,” he said solemnly, holding his ground across the fire from her.

“Well that’s the difference between us, Hitsugaya-taicho—I would be honest with someone if I didn’t think they were good enough.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” he sighed.

Momo straightened her shoulders back and stared firmly back at him through the flames. “I am a lieutenant of the Fifth Division, I have earned my way to serve the Gotei 13—whether you like it or not.”  

--

Dinner was a quiet tense affair with the two of them eating their packed meals quite far and separated from each other. Momo had already started to feel awful from such negative feelings, but on principle she held her ground, quickly scarfing down her onigiri.

They had changed in silence to their sleeping clothes, each taking turns to watch shift before tucking into their respective sleeping bags across the fire pit. In the absence of a “good night,” Momo felt remorse, and found herself consciously holding back from asking if Toushiro was awake.

When they were younger, they’d climb up onto the thatched roofs to stargaze during the night. The hay would itch at bare skin and it would always take the two of them a while to get settled, but when they had found their spots, it was like the world quieted again and they lost themselves in counting the constellations. Sometimes she would speak and Toushiro would respond, in either one sentence responses or noises of affirmation—but always honest. And when it became too quiet to speak, the two would just lie in silence. It was those peaceful moments that would ground Momo whenever she was away studying in the academy; where it felt like possibilities were endless, but home was right behind her, keeping her grounded and safe.

But that felt like a different lifetime with too much death in between to tie them to the same life.

A loud rustle startled Momo from her stupor.

She pushed herself up off the ground. “Did you hear that?”

There was another sound, a creak.

“Hitsugaya-kun,” Momo called out, a twinge of fear creeping into her voice.

“I’m trying to sleep,” he groused.

She persisted, sitting up and listening carefully. The fire crackled and hissed, and Momo strained to hear through the crackle of the fire. Internally she felt at lost without being able to detect the rieatsu of whatever was out there.

“Hinamori, you’re imagining things—go to sleep.”

“I am not,” she hissed, with a little more bite than intended. She was still bitter about their squabble. “I know there’s something out there.” She turned to her backpack, fumbling around in the dark as she searched for the flashlight. “Did you read the information pack that Hisagi-san had sent? Apparently, this used to be a habitat for bears.”

“Yes, and I read the amended version Ise-fuukutaicho sent—the local bear population has become endangered. The only thing we’re in danger of is losing our sleep,” he grumbled.

“I forgot how grumpy you get when you don’t get your sleep,” Momo murmured.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

A rustle was heard and Toushiro shot up, his eyes much alert. “I think there’s something approaching.”

Momo fought the urge to roll her eyes as she fished out the flashlight. “That’s what I was saying.”

A twig broke and immediately Toushiro slipped a gikon pill in, his human body falling back onto the sleeping bag.

“I’m not going to use Hyourinmaru—the weather changes will alert the humans nearby.”

Momo rustled through her duffle bag, pulling things out rapidly. “I can’t find my gikon pills—I must have left them at the training site.”

Toushiro stepped in front of her sleeping bag, his stance defensive as he mimicked Momo’s earlier pose from the training session. “I’ll handle it. I’ll use the kido weaving to stop whatever it is in its tracks.”

That got Momo to pause. “Wait, Hitsugaya-kun—I’m not sure if you’re ready.”

He started to chant, slow and steady as the noise picked up. Momo could only focus on her heart racing that she almost missed the slip of incantation: Toushiro had skipped a line—a very crucial line.

“Hitsugaya-kun—you forgot—”

The threads burned amber, casting a bright glow against the surrounding boundary of trees before they began to constrict against themselves. The woven net grew and expanded, closing in around the two of them instead of pushing outward. Toushiro realizing his error, quickly turned around and crouched over Momo as the net imploded into great sparks, rivaling a fireworks show.

The rustling noise got louder and two of them could only look up as the bush rumbled and rustled—before a bunny slipped out. It stared comically at the two of them, cocking its head to the side before hoping through the campgrounds as the two childhood friends watched.

A bubble of laughter escaped from Momo’s mouth which earned her an exasperated look from her friend above her. “I can’t believe Toushiro’s hair was mussed with grey soot streaking the spiky edges; he looked like the human confection of a burnt marshmallow—which made Momo laugh even harder.

“This isn’t funny,” he grumbled, swiping away at his face with soot coming off.

“It kind of is,” she continued to laugh. “I’m sure when you get back into your gigai, it’ll go away.”

Whatever previous tension that was there before, disappeared and now there was a lightness as the two young shinigami cleaned up the area. The campfire that had been blazing strong before had calmed down to a dying ember, its small spark still burning bright against the night.

Momo cleared her throat, sheepishly looking down. “Would you mind if we pull these closer?” she gestured towards the distanced sleeping bags.

Toushiro shook his head. “No, not at all.”

After rearranging the bags, the two settled in quietly, lying on their backs and looking up at the stars. Momo sighed in content, feeling a lot more at peace than before but still wanted to clear the air about one more thing.

“Hitsugaya-kun,” she whispered.

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry for yelling at you today.”

There was a long pause and she had wondered if he had heard her. “I deserved it. I apologize for not being transparent with you.”

Momo raised an eyebrow. “The great Hitsugaya-taicho is apologizing to me?”

“Oh, shut it.” Even though it was dark, she could hear the eyeroll in his voice. “And I’ve done it before,” he added softly.

“I know.” Momo remembered it well, especially after the Winter War. “But those for things that were out of your control. This is for something you deliberately did.”

The young girl heard him sigh deeply. “It’s something I’m working on,” he conceded.

“Rangiku-san put you up to it?”

“Something like that…” he drifted off.

“Well…” Momo tucked the blanket around her tighter her shoulders. “Thank you.”

When he didn’t say anything back, she continued on, speaking softly. “You need to trust me—I understand you’re worried, but you can’t go around making decisions on my behalf without talking to me.” She turned onto her side and faced him. “I can take care of myself, Hitsugaya-kun.”

He sighed. “I know you can—I don’t doubt it at all.”

“Then what makes this different?” Momo whispered.

Toushiro was silent for a while before turning to her. “It’s what we don’t know—everything we’ve been taught feels…upended.” He grimaced & even in the dark she could see the storm brewing in his eyes. “Ukitake-taicho, the Soutaicho…they’re all there now. It feels like the rules have changed and things are out of control.”

Momo smiled sympathetically before reaching a hand across, and gently placing it on his shoulder. “I know. I’m scared too. I’m scared for everyone at the Fifth, for Hirako-taicho, Rangiku-san.” She paused and stared into his eyes. “I’m also scared for you.”

His eyes widened slowly. “Hinamori…”

“But I won’t let that stop me from wanting to protect everyone—to protect you.” She squeezed his shoulder. “That’s why I became a shinigami, right?”

Momo could sense his inner storm abating and smiled in relief. “So—trust me, okay? Like I trust you to stay safe.”

He sighed deeply and stared back at her. “Okay—I will try.”

She chuckled quietly. “That’s all I ask.”

Momo let her hand fall in the space between them. “Now let’s go to sleep. We still have to finish training tomorrow. I can’t send you back not knowing how to do one combination spell.”

“This will definitely be an experience I will never forget,” he said softly.

She smiled, her eyes already closing shut. “Good night, Hitsugaya-kun.”

Sometime during the night, Momo felt her hand being pulled, and held tight. That even if they drifted in dreams under the stars, she was grounded and safe, held tight to home.

---

Authour's Note: Again, this happens late at night because I am a sucker for late night conversations. I had a lot of fun trying to write Momo's teaching methods for the kido (as if I know anything lol) I also just love that something doesn't go splendidly well for Toushiro (though I wish there were more people to witness it hahahaha)

Until next time everyone :)

#hitsuhina gift exchange 2024 #fanfiction

[hitsuhina-week]

Fic: 4 a.m. bloom

[Read on AO3]

Characters: Hinamori (POV), Hitsugaya Timeline: 4 months into Hinamori's vice-captaincy Word Count: ~6700 Tags: Pre-series, Rukongai, Junrinan lore Shinigami/zanpakutou bond, I will continue to reify condor!Tobiume at every opportunity, Eldercare, For the sake of soul society, Gotei melancholia Notes: Written for @pinkhairedlily for the 2023 @hitsuhina-week Gift Exchange, combining the prompts “hinamori embracing leadership roles in her division” and “momo character study with a sprinkle of toshiro”! <3 (Though there are probably at least 4 tablespoons of Hitsugaya in this, rather than a spinkle.) I hope you enjoy it!

Summary: Another homecoming. Hinamori recognizes that lieutenancy is more a beginning than an achievement, but some missions make that clearer than others. Tobiume is blooming, Hinamori has work to do in Junrinan, and Hitsugaya has some difficult questions for her.

Hitsugaya is a difficult question.

--

“I miss this,” she says, even though she hadn’t meant to. Then she has to ask, “Do you?”

“I don’t live here anymore, either,” Hitsugaya says.

Hinamori does not know whether that means of course or stop.

#hitsuhina gift exchange 2023 #fanfiction #fanfiction 2023

[hitsuhina-week]

One day to go, last chance to sign up!

Hitsuhina Gift Exchange - Planning

Hi everyone,

I'm thinking of hosting a gift exchange on a weekend in December (a poll will be released shortly with the dates to vote on).

It'd be the same as previous years, with no allocated theme and everyone who participates will be randomly allocated to someone to create a gift for based on what the person has requested.

If you're interested in participating, please respond to this post either by reblogging or commenting your interest by Friday November 17.

If I can get at least four people interested in participating, I can host the event. By the time this gets posted, I'll be on my break, but when I return in late November, I'll get planning!

#hitsuhina #hitsuhina gift exchange 2023

[hitsuhina-week]

Only a few days left to sign up for the Hitsuhina Gift Exhange in December! If you’re interested in participating in the Hitsuhina Gift Exchange, please comment or reblog this post saying you want to, a like doesn’t count (but the support is greatly appreciated).

Hitsuhina Gift Exchange - Planning

Hi everyone,

I'm thinking of hosting a gift exchange on a weekend in December (a poll will be released shortly with the dates to vote on).

It'd be the same as previous years, with no allocated theme and everyone who participates will be randomly allocated to someone to create a gift for based on what the person has requested.

If you're interested in participating, please respond to this post either by reblogging or commenting your interest by Friday November 17.

If I can get at least four people interested in participating, I can host the event. By the time this gets posted, I'll be on my break, but when I return in late November, I'll get planning!

#hitsuhina #hitsuhina gift exchange 2023

[hitsuhina-week]

#hitsuhina #toshiro hitsugaya #momo hinamori #bleach

[hitsuhina-week]

Hitsuhina Gift Exchange - Planning

Hi everyone,

I'm thinking of hosting a gift exchange on a weekend in December (a poll will be released shortly with the dates to vote on).

It'd be the same as previous years, with no allocated theme and everyone who participates will be randomly allocated to someone to create a gift for based on what the person has requested.

If you're interested in participating, please respond to this post either by reblogging or commenting your interest by Friday November 17.

If I can get at least four people interested in participating, I can host the event. By the time this gets posted, I'll be on my break, but when I return in late November, I'll get planning!

#hitsuhina #hitsuhina gift exchange 2023 #toshiro hitsugaya #momo hinamori #bleach

[hitsuhina-week]

Thank you!!

Thank you to everyone who contributed to Hitsuhina Week 2023! If you haven't already, please check out the entries for this year:

Day 1: Academy Days / Fireworks

To Shine Brightly by @rays-of-fire-and-ice Academy Days by @roguedarthskywalker Fireworks by @roguedarthskywalker illumination by @alexiethymia

Day 2: Sunset / Homecoming

Sunset/ Homecoming by @roguedarthskywalker

Day 3: Shinigami / AU

AU by @roguedarthskywalker

Day 4: Back to back / I'm sorry

I'm Sorry by @roguedarthskywalker The Downpour by @rays-of-fire-and-ice

Day 5: I could go anywhere with you / Night

Reverse the Bone Part I & II by @bleachbleachbleach Night by @roguedarthskywalker

Day 6: Something beautiful / Waves

Something Beautiful by @roguedarthskywalker On the Shoreline by @rays-of-fire-and-ice

Day 7: Future / Fairy tales

Future by @roguedarthskywalker something blue by @canariie

A special shout out to @roguedarthskywalker for creating something for every day of the event, it's quite the achievement!

If I missed any submissions, please let me know ASAP so I can include them here. Otherwise, keep an eye out towards the end of the year, I'm hoping to host a gift exchange in November/December. If you have any ideas for future events, don't be shy and sent them in!

Thanks again everyone! :D

#hitsuhina #hitsuhina week 2023 #toshiro hitsugaya #momo hinamori #bleach #updates

[hitsuhina-week]

illumination

summary: [Post-TYBW] Hitsugaya fixed his tabi on the engawa is he waited for Momo. Not for the first time, he was gripped with that sense of déjà vu. First sunrise. First shrine visit. A lot of the firsts that he remembered in his life was with her.

[read on ao3]

Notes: I don’t consider myself good at domestic fics, so this fic had plenty of inspiration, mainly @rays-of-fire-and-ice, @canariie, and @bleachbleachbleach‘s head canons especially about Jurinan grandma and Momo’s calligraphy. It was also inspired by the Hitsugaya family in Untitled Collection and the warmest place in the world, as well as all of the HCs about hitsuhina children that I just went and bit the bullet and did my own version. I’m also way too late for HitsuHina week, but I really wanted to finish this work based on the prompt fireworks.

Soshun mazu sake Ni ume uru Nioi kana

New year and first Sake and the fragrance of plum blossoms Being sold

“Kira’s spouting off haikus again which means he’s plastered and that’s our cue to go. Thanks for having us, Hitsugaya-taichou!”

“Heh, you sure it isn’t because you’ve made your darling wife and daughter wait up for you and now you’re scared you’ll be greeting the new year with a sandal to the face?”

“Shut it, Hisagi-san.”

“Oi, oi, show some respect Abarai. It should be Hisagi-senpai.”

“Ehh Kira, isn’t that haiku out-of-season? Isn’t it too early for spring? Ah, but it fits perfectly with the umeshu doesn’t it, taichou?”

Kira just ignored the whole drunken lot in favor of shaking Momo’s hands. For some reason, he seemed to be crying.

“Just a small new year’s gift, Hinamori-kun…ah…eto,” Kira mumbles all the while still vigorously shaking her hands. Only a strained furrow in his drooping brow signified his strain as if trying to remember something important amidst the drunken haze he was in, “My mistake,” he amends, “I mean, Hitsugaya-san.”

Perhaps it was the same furrow mirrored in the captain’s expression that caused him to remember, but in truth Hitsugaya’s expression wasn’t really directed at him. In truth, it wasn’t only Renji’s wife who was maybe slightly displeased with him.

“No need to be so formal, Kira-kun! We’ve known each other for ages.” Despite that she consented to be supported by her back, she wasn’t as fully nestled by his side like in her moments of true contentment where she would be languid and soft against him.

She was the perfect hostess so she’d never let anything in her expression show except a welcoming and bright smile, but Hitsugaya didn’t know her for centuries for nothing. The smile she had now had the same subtle curves as the exact same smile she showed him when she said, ‘What do you mean? Of course, I’m not angry, Shiro-chan, how silly,’ when he’d eaten the peaches she had apparently been saving when they were just carefree kids back in Jurinan. Moments like this made memories like that feel simultaneously as if they were eons ago and also as if they just happened yesterday.

Hitsugaya sighed.

“Momo, you know you can’t drink for a reason.”

Everyone in the party turned to look at him at that. True it was stern as was characteristic of Hitsugaya-taichou, but at the same time it sounded conciliatory. Perhaps that was why Momo let her smile fall, and let a slight pout overtake her features. Internally, Hitsugaya sighed with relief. He’d rather she shows that she was displeased with him than hide it.

“I know, but still for you to go so far as to ask everyone to bring plum wine, precisely because you know I don’t like it…” When Madarame-san and Ayasegawa-san brought some over, she thought nothing of it. When Hirako-taichou had dropped by in human world attire clapping Toshiro on the back with enough force that he fell, irritated and grumbling, and ruffling her hair softly as he placed the bottle and a new jazz vinyl in her hands, she thought it was a funny coincidence. But when even Nanao-san with the soutaichou dropped by, her with books and him with more of the stuff, that’s when she began to put two and two together.

Maybe it was a bit much for new year’s celebrations, but it had also been a housewarming of sorts, and Momo was touched with all of the small tokens of welcome and well-wishes. Pity it had to be something she wasn’t fond of. But Momo was nothing but gracious so she accepted it all.

Abarai-kun and Hisagi-senpai looked at each other sheepishly, while Kira-kun looked just about ready to drop at the thought of possibly having offended her with their gift, but Hitsugaya-taichou insisted, and you never said no to Hitsugaya-taichou when he used that tone (rather you never just said no to Hitsugaya-taichou period).

At least Matsumoto-san was thoughtful enough to bring peaches which was probably why she was giggling at their expense.

Seeing Kira-kun’s shaking legs and increasingly off color (he might faint with how white he was becoming), Momo decided to let up with a sigh. Looking up at her husband who was looking at her straightforwardly, Momo found that she really couldn’t stay mad especially when the person in question was sure he had done nothing wrong. And anyway he also mostly abstained from the alcohol, only taking a few sips in order not to be rude to their guests. She leaned into him even as Hitsugaya-kun teased her lightly, “You would have snuck a few sips if it was fruit wine.”

Feeling as if they were intruding into some soft and fluffy scene, the vice-captains couldn’t help but feel second-hand embarrassment at being the witnesses to a married couple’s fight (if it could even be called that).

“I hope Rukia and I aren’t as obnoxious as that,” Renji whispered discreetly.

“You totally are. It’s just that your lover’s quarrels are more explosive.”

“That’s good. I’m happy for you Hinamori-kun, er I mean, Hitsugaya-san, no I mean Momo-kun!” For some inexplicable reason, Kira started crying into his arm again.

“Ahhh, taichou and Momo, could you stop making the rest of us feel so single?”

“Ahem, Rangiku-san, would you do me the honor of- “

“Yosh! That does it. Time to take this party over to the Kuchiku manor. I’m sure they’ll have some high-class sake!”

“Hey, wait a minute! When did I say- “ But Hisagi just slung his arm over Renji’s neck in a chokehold, while dragging Kira behind him. Hitsugaya privately commiserated, both with Abarai and Kuchiki. Matsumoto was a whirlwind who couldn’t be stopped. Feeling a migraine coming on at the prospect of having to pay for any potential damages, he almost didn’t notice Matsumoto sidle up to them and spirit Momo away for a careful, and yet cheerful hug. Nuzzling her cheek against Momo’s, she whispered, “Don’t worry, I’ll sneak you some fruit wine sometime.”

Hitsugaya growled in warning at hearing that, “Matsumoto…” but Momo only laughed and hugged the buxom woman tightly, as his vice-captain winked at him. “After everything, taichou, I promise. Lieutenant’s honor.”

Hitsugaya calmed down, and sighed. He’s been doing a lot of that lately. Nonetheless he greeted his vice-captain, “Happy New Year, Matsumoto. I’ll be counting on you greatly for the upcoming year.”

“Thank you for visiting, Rangiku-san. Have a Happy New Year!”

With a lazy salute, she waved them both goodbye, and in a while they were both finally alone. Hitsugaya didn’t mind the company of his colleagues, while he knew Momo enjoyed it. Still, he didn’t want her to get too tired. Spying her drooping lids, he gently shook her, mindful of both her hands wrapping around her midsection, “Time for bed, sleepyhead.”

“Mmmm,” Momo yawned as she placed both arms around her husband’s neck while he scooped her up, “Hey, Shiro?”

“Hmm, what is it?”

“You know you’re going to have to drink all that sake right? And I won’t help with a single drop,” Momo giggled sleepily. As much as Momo disliked plums, she knew Hitsugaya-kun didn’t have a taste for alcohol either. Snuggling deeper into her husband’s broad shoulder, she smiled peacefully.

Hitsugaya blanched.  

“I’ll give some to Matsumoto.”

…

Momo felt a hand waking her from restful slumber.

Blearily opening one eye, she spotted Hitsugaya-kun already up with a bemused look on his face. He had always been the early riser between the two.

Stretching her arms and yawning, Momo fixed her hair while Hitsugaya-kun patiently waited beside her. It was still dark out. Her stomach suddenly grumbled, and while she might have been embarrassed about it before, with how often it kept happening these days, she just got used to it.

Hitsugaya-kun passed her a bowl of the leftover toshikoshi soba she’d prepared for them which she took gratefully, warming her hands on the reheated bowl.

She still felt slow as molasses, but luckily Hitsugaya-kun had always been alert. While she sleepily slurped at the noodles still only half awake, Hitsugaya-kun merely arranged her so she was comfortable leaning against his front. He even tucked her in their blankets, leaving none for himself since the cold didn’t bother him. Once he was assured that she was comfortable, he slowly opened their sliding doors so they could view the night sky. It was but a moment later that the inky blackness was replaced with slivers of rose light.

With no words passing between them, together they watched the first sunrise.

—

Hitsugaya fixed his tabi on the engawa is he waited for Momo. Not for the first time, he was gripped with that sense of déjà vu.

First sunrise. First shrine visit.

A lot of the firsts that he remembered in his life was with her.

Memory was a funny thing in Soul Society. While he remembered nothing of his old life, if he were to fix a point in time where his life started here, he found that she was always in his firsts - that her smiling face was the beginning of everything.  

First smile. First laughter. First friend.

First love.

Though he took a while to realize it. (Or perhaps like a circle, there had been no fixed point and some part of him had always known.)

Finished, he leaned back on his arms as he looked up at the withered branches. Though some things remained the same, perhaps a lot of things also changed. He remembers his first shrine visit with Momo and baachan. Back then he’d been impatient and rushing her so that they could get a move on already. But his grumbling had died in his throat when he saw her come out with a new yukata. It was nothing fancy, not even a kimono, but it was new. Everything about her then was new, from the first time he saw her put her hair up in a bun, small wild flowers threaded into the strands by baachan, to the new dusty pink yukata with plum blossoms scattered across it she had saved up for.

‘How do I look, Shiro-chan?’

‘…You look fine.’

It wasn’t even close to what he wanted to say, but only Momo would still smile brightly at him like that, leaving him dazed.

The plum blossoms were starting to bud, he noticed. Glancing down at his own kimono, he thought wryly that this was a far cry from the threadbare yukata he’d worn back then. Deep midnight blue and black, with whorls of clouds, on the back a great mighty dragon, shining in white as it rushed alongside a surging river, such that you wouldn’t know where the river ended and the dragon began. Truthfully, it was a bit ostentatious for his own tastes, but baachan had sent it and baachan had probably made it, so he would wear it gratefully.

Hearing the sliding doors open, he turned, a teasing remark of, ‘Finally done?’ at the tip of his tongue, but he didn’t even get the chance.

How could he even say anything?

Just there, Momo in a resplendent silk furisode, cloaked in white and vermillion. She gave him a little twirl and he spied the phoenix at her back, feathered tail curling all over her, along with flowers bright red and yellow, exploding like fireworks. There were subtle patterns of teal and green that matched his eyes, while her hair was held up with a matching red kanzashi, stray locks curling over her ear and feathering her forehead.

Separated by years, two moments in time, and he still finds that his breath catches.

“How do I look, Shiro?”

A blush on her cheeks, eyes sparkling, happy and at peace.

He smiled.

“You look beautiful.”

Some things changed, but some things would always stay the same.

…

“I wonder if baasan got our card,” Momo murmured thoughtfully as she rubbed the silk between her two fingers. Hitsugaya-kun just hummed and nodded as he made a path for the two of them in the crowd, hand gripping hers firmly. She continued touching the silk with her other hand, softly marveling. It really was beautiful. Baasan must have started as soon as she finished with their wedding clothes to get these to them on time. The subtly sparkling white on her furisode reminded her of her shiromuku safely put away back in their private quarters at home, while the black in Hitsugaya-kun’s kimono reminded her of his montsuki. Baasan had playfully added Hyourinmaru’s four-point star as a crest, while lamenting that she couldn’t decide if she wanted Momo to wear white, or a colorful iro-uchikake.

Watching the softly falling snow outside, she had made the decision for her. Momo loved white. Baasan had only chuckled and said next time then. Letting the long sleeve fall smoothly from her hand like water, Momo smiled wondering if this was her version. This wasn’t their first shrine visit since they were married, but it was still a kind of first nonetheless.

Hitsugaya-kun briefly glanced back at her. “Don’t worry, we’ll visit her soon.” She nodded, still smiling at him.

…

“Yatta, I got great blessing! What did you get, Hitsugaya-kun?” Momo looked pleased with herself and that was more than enough for Toshiro, even as she couldn’t help her giggle at seeing his own fortune, sue-sho-kichi, small blessing to come. Toshiro wasn’t superstitious, but was the small really necessary?

Toshiro wasn’t superstitious but he’s been noticing a pattern lately. Momo tended to pull out good fortunes, almost always Dai-kichi, sometimes Chu-kichi. If the overwhelming misfortune she faced meant that the cosmic scale was being tipped back in her favor, then Toshiro thought that there was justice after all.

She traced the characters on her fortune, machibito, a person being expected or waited for, “The person you’re waiting for will come,” she mouthed softly, even as Toshiro’s heart jolted at seeing shussan on her fortune slip.

Even in moments of calm like this, sometimes the anxiety would spike up. To shake off the silly urge of wanting to bite his thumb nail he smoothed over endan and negaigoto on his own slip almost obsessively.

Hirako once told him that everything in reverse would come the right side way up eventually. He didn’t put much stock in the other captain’s words, and much less did he put stock in pieces of paper, but if they meant that Momo would have a lifetime of fortune and happiness, then he would believe them wholeheartedly. It was nothing less than she deserved. And if nothing else, he’ll believe in himself. He’ll will those fortunes to reality if he had to.

“These are good fortunes, aren’t they Hitsugaya-kun?”

They were.

…

Just before they were about to pray, Momo suddenly asked him, “What did you dream about, Hitsugaya-kun?”

“Nothing much, just the past.”

Momo suddenly chuckled, “I had an auspicious first dream, a hawk flying high in the sky.”

“Oh,” Toshiro raised a brow, questioning. People talked about signs all they liked but it was actually rare to dream about them.

Momo smiled sheepishly, “Hehe, well to be exact I dreamed about the first time Hitsugaya-kun showed me his bankai. I remember being so amazed at seeing you fly.”

Toshiro’s brow raised even higher, “So I’m a bird now, is that it? You know you can’t just make up signs like that.”

Momo just smiled back impishly. “I’m collecting luck. It’s a lucky sign if I say it is. It’s up to us to make our own happiness after all.”

Toshiro just sighed in fond exasperation, he’ll tell her later if she asked but he had dreamed about a moment in the past. It wasn’t a specific moment, in fact it could have been every moment, but he had dreamed of a simple scene of them eating watermelons and watching the sunset.

It had been so tranquil that when he woke up he was disoriented at how Momo seemed to have grown overnight while Granny was nowhere to be found. Had she snuck into his bed to sleep again? Concerned, he wondered if she had another nightmare, before noticing her clasped hands in front of her. It hit him all over again, like a kidou spell, the immense but quiet happiness. Uncharacteristic of him, he had woken her because he couldn’t contain himself. The scene of watching the sunset in his dreams replaced with watching the sunrise. They had been surrounded by the mountains of their hometown in his dreams. Perhaps that counted?

A clap interrupts his reverie. Softly but enough for him to hear, Momo releases her prayer for the gods to hear as well, ‘may they be clever and strong’.

Toshiro contemplates whether or not to tell her that prayers were usually silent, but he decides against it. He doesn’t mind. Anyway, he knows what his own prayer will be.

It’s the one he’s been wishing for every night for the past year.

…

Hatsuyuki ya suisen na ha na no tawamu made  

The first snow Just enough to bend The daffodil leaves

“I thought that you wanted your first calligraphy to be…”

“I know, I know what I said, but I can’t seem to think of anything,” Momo’s eyes as she looks up at him are pleading.

Stroking her head to calm her, he then picks up the paper to carefully store away. “It’s still good.”

Momo pouts slightly perhaps thinking he was only placating her. Unfurling it, Toshiro observes it more closely, “No really, it’s good. As always your handwriting is almost too pretty,” he smirks. Momo only puffs out her cheeks and crossed her arms pretending to be offended. Really her husband could still be so childish sometimes, finding it hard to say what he wanted to say. But Momo could still read him just the same. To him, anything she said or did was beautiful. She was beautiful. It was as simple as that.

Cupping his chin in hand, he asked her, “Do you want this here? I can place it in the entranceway.”

“No,” she shakes her head, “I made it for the tenth division. I hope Rangiku-san also likes it.”

“You know her. I’m sure she’ll love it.” Finally putting the paper away, he dragged over another writing desk to place in front of her. It was easier to move around and sit without his captain’s cloak over his shoulders. He can’t remember the last time he went so long without wearing it. “Speaking of Matsumoto, I hope the tenth division barracks is still standing.”

“Hush,” she chides, even as she smiles and puts brush to paper to begin another stroke, “You know Rangiku-san can be counted on when it really matters.”

Copying her, he also drew a straight line downwards, though perhaps less elegant looking. His strokes were blunt and precise, sometimes heavy-handed in places where the ink would bleed out, much the same as him. He was good at dispensing reports quickly and efficiently, but wasn’t really suited to crafting pieces of art (unless it was with blade and ice), slowly and with care. This was more Kira’s domain, or Momo’s. She could get so absorbed in each stroke that perhaps an hour would pass before she was finished with just one kanji. She wrote like she drew, as if there was meaning and an entire world in each line that made up a character. And perhaps for her there was. “I know, I know. I haven’t even had any reports yet so they can’t be doing too badly without me.”

He hadn’t said anything, but perhaps Matsumoto sensed that he would prefer not to be bothered unless it was truly an emergency. She was an excellent vice-captain like that, although he rarely said it out loud. Again, perhaps, many would call it uncharacteristic of him, that he wasn’t worrying every minute about his squad but he had enough on his mind and in his heart right now. Gazing at Momo in front of him, humming as she added another stroke, he let out a subtle sigh of relief.

He could leave it up to Matsumoto.

…

It’s Momo who wakes him up this time around, brimming with excitement.

“Shiro-chan, look! It’s snowing!”

How nostalgic, he thinks sleepily at hearing her laugh, ‘she hasn’t called me that in ages.’

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, anxiety once again begins to creep in, contrasting his wife’s honest pleasure. ‘Won’t it be too cold for her?’ There were times in the middle of the night when he would unconsciously place space between the both of them, memories flashing back to those early days when he couldn’t control his powers. But without fail and as if she had some sixth sense for it, she would only draw nearer, looping hands and legs together so he would find it harder to escape, mumbling incoherent things all the while as she drooled on him. He had no choice then but to fall blissfully back into sleep.

Noticing her husband’s contemplative gaze as he looked outside, Momo sighed and wagged a finger to catch his attention, “No messing with the weather, Shiro. I’m fine.” Cross-eyed, Toshiro reluctantly nodded. “Good,” she chirped. One crisis averted she snuggled closer, and waited for him to put his arms around her.

Suddenly and without warning, colors bloomed in the sky, a multitude of flowers sparkling brightly and dazzling. Momo could only gasp in delight.

‘Fireworks in the snow, huh?’ A far-off memory that couldn’t hurt them now.

Certainly, it was too cold, but drawing the presence nestled in his arms even more closely to him, Toshiro found that he didn’t mind. The fireworks were spectacular yes, but his gaze was permanently drawn downwards. Blue, red, yellow, pink played off across her face in flashes. He could watch fireworks forever illuminated in her eyes. There, they would never fizzle out, the sparks would never die, rather they would shine brightly forever, so long as she kept looking at him.

Suddenly overcome with feeling, he wanted exactly that. He could only whisper her name, even if there were only the two of them, “Momo…”

“Hmmm,” she responded turning to meet his eyes with her own despite the display continuing above them, “What is it, Shiro-cha –“

He was a patient man, he was. And he’ll ask forgiveness for interrupting her later, but at this moment, he wanted nothing more than her lips on his. He should let her get some rest, he should, his mind was clearly telling him that he should, so why was his treacherous body tightening his arms around her, one hand roughly weaving fingers in her hair as he tilted her head back.

She was no better, fingers wound as tightly in his own hair, drawing out a soft groan he tried to muffle against her neck, as he kissed it feverishly, softly biting to leave blooms of his own on the milky skin, a counterpoint to the flowers up in the sky. Hyoten Hyakkaso without his zanpakuto, though these flower burned rather than froze.

There were times he was deathly afraid he would freeze her, but right now, nothing else plagued his mind besides her, and as he drew her down with him, for once he didn’t mind the snow, for he was sure he could warm her as long as he kept her close.

Up in the sky, the fireworks brightly shined and illuminated them both.

…

They write together quietly, Momo occasionally showing him a character to ask his opinion on it. She had already finished with the first one, excitedly showing it to him in a bit of feverish excitement.

The strokes for ‘flower’ and ‘fire’ were lively and vibrant. It matched her perfectly. Toshiro had agreed immediately.

It was the second one they were having trouble with. Toshiro had suggested the characters for ‘spring’ and ‘tree’. It reminded Momo of Tobiume, and Momo didn’t exactly mind it for ‘spring’ matched with his own ‘winter’, but something still felt out of place.

“Isn’t it too early for spring?” In truth, it was more that she wanted more of him reflected in these strokes and lines. She places ‘sun’ next to ‘happiness’.

Hitsugaya-kun only shrugs. Momo could only smile at him fondly. “I hope they’re more like you,” she says as she idly traces the strokes for ‘wish’.

Hitsugaya-kun merely smirks back at her. “Then looks like we’re in conflict since I hope they’ll take after you.”

Momo sticks out her tongue in playful indignation. “I’m sure the kami-sama will listen to my request over yours. I’ve been collecting more luck after all.” ‘Clever and strong,’ was what she had prayed for, ‘just like their father’.

Hitsugaya-kun shakes his head in amusement. Peering over to her side, he looks at what she’s been working on, “That could work.”

Momo hums thoughtfully, looking at the character this way and that. It seems perfect – a wish, a hope, a prayer – but it didn’t seem to be quite exactly what they were looking for.

“What have you got?” She leans more to his side, before bursting into a fit of laughter. If Hitsugaya-kun is embarrassed, he makes a valiant effort not to show it. On his paper, the character for ‘big’ in bold, black, strokes. Momo’s face softens at seeing the character under it, ‘shine’. It might be her own imagination that it seems like it’s glowing.

“They’re perfect.”

…

They made it just in time for the fire festival. Perhaps it was incongruous for them to be burning something they’d been working on for days, but this was just its own kind of prayer.

Both of them hold paper lanterns, in his, ‘Hanabi’ in her own script, in hers, ‘Haruki’ in his. Small bright lights cupped into the palms of their hands. As one they let both lanterns go, up in the sky, where they’ll burn brightly and send all their prayers up to the sky.

Fervently, Momo clasps her hands together, Toshiro a steady and unwavering presence around her.

She hopes.

…

Even if they had hoped for peace to continue, truly their idyllic days couldn’t last. They were still commanding officers, and when Matsumoto shows up on their doorstop one day, he knows exactly what it means.

He knows, but it doesn’t mean he has to like it.

Rangiku likes it no more than her taichou. She can’t even tease the both of them over the marks she spies not covered by Momo’s kimono. “Taichou…It’s Naruki City.”

He closes his eyes in aggravation, fingers closed over the bridge of his nose to stave off the migraine, as Momo and his Vice-captain look at him concerned.

For once, he wants to be selfish. It’s so close, too close. For once, he wants to forget about his captain’s cloak and his responsibilities and just stay here to shelter Momo from everything. Opening his eyes, he meets Momo’s own and is both equally dismayed and encouraged by the resolve he finds there.

Momo didn’t become a Shinigami to be protected. She became a Shinigami to protect. And it’s the same for him (except doesn’t she know by now, after everything, that she was the one he wanted to protect most of all).

Without words, she goes to get his captain’s cloak. If she feels his hands shake as she helps him put it on, then at least only she would know.

She cradles his face in her hands, arms going up to reach him now instead of down. He doesn’t know what she sees in his face, if it looks like he’s about to cry, but she only smiles calmly, ruffling his hair. When before, he had swatted her hand away, now he only leans into the simple comfort. He closes his eyes as he feels Momo draw him down and touch her forehead to his. His erratic heartbeat slows at hearing her breathe.

“I’m off.”

“Please go and come back,” she says as she bows on the engawa. There is no fear in her eyes, only trust as if telling him, ‘go and I’ll be here to welcome you when you return’. He wishes it was the same for him. He swallows before turning forward. He stops Matsumoto with a hand to her shoulder.

He has no words. “Matsumoto…”

Eyes widening in understanding, she starts worriedly, “The reports say there are at least five arrancars, taichou. I already commanded the rest of the troops stationed there to come back. I was planning to handle them myself…but the soutaichou said the both of us needed to be there.” Hitsugaya was glad she didn’t go by herself. He appreciated the soutaichou intervening on his behalf. Knowing Matsumoto, she would have rushed there headstrong and foolish for his sake.

All the points she raised were valid ones, but again all he could say was, “Matsumoto, please…” I need you here.  

There were moments where no words needed to be said, and the communication between a captain and vice-captain could be almost telepathic. This was one such moment, and as Rangiku gazed up at her not-so-little anymore captain, she could only smile in resignation, “Gotcha, taichou. But when you come back, I’m expecting an all-expense paid vacation. I’ve been working my butt off! Hey, Momo,” she called back, already making her way into the house, as Momo gazed at him with a question in her eyes, “Let’s go together!” Hitsugaya only smiled back.

Committing the sight of his wife and vice-captain smiling together, he tightened his grip on Hyourinmaru and set off.

…

Both his mind and body were on auto-pilot. He was glad Hyourinmaru had his back. It wasn’t like back then when his zanpakuto had to artificially mature him just so he could handle his own bankai. He had fully matured in all senses of the word, and had full mastery of his true bankai.

It was good that he was alone. There was no collateral damage except the enemy so he could release Shikai Hyoketsu without repercussions. But without Matsumoto there to support him, he felt more alone than ever.

He was getting tired. He lost count of how many enemies he had slain, of his own wounds and bruises. There was only one thought in his mind – to get home no matter what.

Using his sword as a crutch, he breathed out heavily before suddenly slashing out Hyoryu Senbi at the new presence he felt.

The shadow dodged and clicked his tongue. “Is that anyway ta greet yer elders? Ya look like you’ve been through hell. Need a little hand?”

Disoriented, Hitsugaya could only gape at the newcomer, “Hirako?”

“The one and only.”

Hitsugaya might have thought he was hallucinating but there was no mistaking that too-wide grin and tacky haircut. “What are you doing here? Naruki City isn’t under your jurisdiction.”

That carefree smile suddenly turned serious, “No it’s not, but I know someone who is under my jurisdiction. And I’m sure she’s missin’ a neglectful husband.” Hitsugaya growled at that. “What’re ya doin’ here? Do I have ta tell my daughter to divorce you?”

“For the last time,” a vein ticked in his forehead, this seemed like an eerily familiar experience he was having, “She is not your daughter! And anyway, you didn’t answer my question.”

He might have if not for another presence suddenly jumping in, “Oh, what? Am I interrupting a lover’s quarrel or something.”

“Nah, just an in-laws spat.”

What the hell?  

He couldn’t decide what expression he was supposed to be showing. Maybe Hirako decided to finally take pity on him as he decided to answer him. “The soutaichou sent us because it looks like someone forgot to bring their vice-captain.” Heh, more like they persuaded him. Even if that softie hadn’t already been ready to pull him out after hearing he stupidly went alone, Shinji’s sure Lisa’s kick to his backside, and Nanao-chan’s sharp glare would just about do the trick. Eh, a few misplaced forms never hurt anyone. “Color me surprised when I found out Naruki City was actually under the fifth and the eight’s joint jurisdiction. Who coulda been so stupid as to put it under the tenth’s all this time?”

Hitsugaya didn’t know what was going on.

Shinji sighed. The kid could be so slow sometimes. “Oi, Hitsugaya. Lisa also brought her vice-captain. I’m sure two captains and a vice-captain would be more efficient than one captain. Yer not needed here, so woulja just hurry on to where you’re supposed ta be already?”

Finally shaken out of his stupor, he could say nothing. He put his own misgivings aside, and bowed low.

“Thank you.”

As the tenth squad captain shunpoed out of there, Shinji let out a whistle. “What d’ya know? The kid has manners after all. Let’s hurry this up Lisa. I got a grandchild to welcome.” “Lame,” Lisa replied, completely deadpan.

He let it off.

It was a joyous occasion after all.

…

She wasn’t there. She wasn’t at home.

His mind was perfectly blank.

He couldn’t feel her reiatsu anywhere.

“Hitsugaya-taichou!”

What was his seventh seat doing here?

“Matsumoto fuku-taichou brought Hitsugaya fuku-taichou to the fourth.”

Hitsugaya-taichou immediately left without even greeting him, but Takezoe didn’t hold it against his captain. With a dozen children of his own, he’d been where the young man was now. He only hoped his captain would make it in time.

…

He doesn’t remember how he reached the fourth, only overwhelming panic.

He could feel the temperature lowering, but only distantly, the calls of his title heard in a vacuum as if he was somewhere very far away.

‘Hitsugaya-taichou, please reign down your reiatsu.’

‘Taichou, please control it, it might affect the patients.’

‘It might affect…’

“Taichou!”

He felt as if he was roughly woken up from sleep. Heavily, he lifted his head up, “Matsumoto…”

“Taichou,” Rangiku said more softly. Her little captain wasn’t so little anymore. More than once he’d had to support her when Shiba-taichou left, and even after…

But now, as she sees how he trembles under her hands on his shoulders, subtly curling into himself, eyes haunted, she is taken back to years past, to a little boy so afraid of hurting the people he loves.

Matsumoto’s voice brings him back. He can sense a cacophony of reiatsu, all mingling together, that it was hard to tell them all. Abarai with his daughter, both Kuchikis even, Kira, Hisagi, his squad, members from other squads, her friends, their colleagues, their friends.

But that only serves to forcefully remind him that he was doing it again, he can’t stop it, he’s the greatest danger to those around him, to her, he can’t ever protect her, and as he shivers, the ice creeps up even faster.

“Taichou,” Matsumoto says, voice still soft. Placing her palm firmly against his heart, she pleads, “Please. Listen.”

Boy

A thunderous sound, more presence than voice. Hyourinmaru

Shiro-chan

Toshiro

A sound like wind-chimes, laughter threading every word. He gasps.

“It’s alright,” Matsumoto assures him, smiling brightly. “She’s alright. She knows you’re here.”

…

In the end, both their wishes are granted.

Both their children have her hair, hers lit like a coal flame, his softer and reminding him of forests and trees, the coming of spring. His hair was too unique to be passed onto anyone else, she manages to joke, but no matter because she still got what she wished for. Rubbing both chubby cheeks and coaxing both eyes to open, he sees what she means when he sees his own eyes reflected back at him. Brightly shining with an inner light.

They would shine brightly, he vows to himself, as he envelops her, all of them, to him, while he buries his face against her hair.

“Shiro-chan,” she laughs, the happiest she’s been, “Are you crying?” She hardly if ever has seen him cry. She nuzzles her cheek to his. “What am I to do with my crybaby husband?”

He can’t even manage his usual ‘shut up’ amidst his tears, only hugging them closer.  Thank you.

Momo smiles. The person you’re waiting for will come.

He did. They did.

They were all home.

Okaerinasai.

#day 1 #day 1 2023 #fanfiction #fanfiction 2023

[hitsuhina-week]

On the Shoreline

Hitsuhina Week: Day 6 - Something beautiful / Waves

Prompts: Waves, stars, vacation together

Rating: K/General but with mild themes

Setting: some time after the No Breaths From Hell oneshot

Synopsis: Upon Momo’s suggestion, Toshiro joins her and a group for a break at a seaside town. However, with his mind is heavy with recent revelations, he wonders why they are all there.

AN: Once again, I’m writing something for both @yearoftheotpevent's challenge and Hitsuhina Week.

This really started as one thing and completely transformed into something else! I was intending to do a short piece about Toshiro and Momo taking some time to relax at a beach, but nope, the angst had to get in there and not only make this fic longer, but change the whole story.

Do I think the Shinigami would actual do this after the events of the No Breaths From Hell one shot? Nope, but I wanted to try it out anyway.

In terms of music while listening I can recommend (in no particular order): Recollection 1-3 , World #07 Blues, going home, and compassion by Shiro Sagisu from the BLEACH osts, And She Translated into Sky by Levi Patel (Spotify or YT) , and Skel and Andra by Sigur Ros (Spotify or YT). If I had to recommend when to listen to these songs, I only three I feel strongly about are listening to And She Translated into Sky, Skel, and Andra in the last section of the fic, where Toshiro and Momo are walking on the beach ;)

Hope you all enjoy it!

__________________________________

Toshiro watches the heat sizzle on the horizon. Despite the sweat dripping down his temple, he doesn’t wave the uchiwa with any vigor. Eventually, he glares at the few clouds in the sky, all too far away to block the sun.

“Why did they have to pick a damn beach of all places?” he grumbles.

He tries to ignore the commotion going on inside, where everyone is trying to decide who is going to stay in which room. He should be in there, but it’ll only irritate him further, and for once it wouldn't just be from everyone’s usual antics and pointless arguing.

It had been a two months, but how can they all be acting like this after what happened?

He tilts his head down and waves his fan faster. He knows everyone has their ways of coping with things, but he'd have thought there would still be some discussion about what happened, even if it was only in passing. Why does it feel like he's the only one stuck on the revelations that came?

The door slides open and Rangiku pokes her head out, looking to the left, and then meeting his gaze when she swivels her head to the right. “There you are! What’re you doing out here?”

Toshiro pushes himself off the wall. “Are you all done in there?” he asks dryly.

“Yeah, everything is sorted.” She grins as if all the arguing hadn’t just occurred. “You know it’s cooler inside, right? When did you leave?”

“Doesn’t matter. Which room am I in?”

Rangiku huffs and steps out of the foyer, closing the door behind her. “I get that it’s hot, Captain, but you really need to relax.”

“I only came because they needed someone to supervise all of you.” That’s not entirely true, and she knows it. It had been Momo who invited him, Rangiku and Granny who encouraged him to accept, and Shunsui who had assigned him and Rukia with watching over everyone – all the while grinning and lamenting that it had been over a decade since Toshiro had a proper holiday in the World of the Living.

“It’s lucky we came at the very beginning of summer, there’s more rooms and not a whole lot of people on the beaches around here. You’ll be able to use Hyourinmaru to your heart’s content.”

“For all of you, you mean.”

“Oh, Captain, don’t be so cruel, I know you’ll use it more for yourself than anyone else!” He goes to rebut while she rummages through her short’s pocket, but he stops when pulls out a key and hands it to him. “Besides, I did a good thing for you! Like you requested, you’ll have a room to yourself with aircon.”

Oh, thank goodness.

“It’s between Madarame and Yumichika’s room and Abarai and Kuchiki’s rooms.”

He wilts. As if the heat isn't bad enough.

_________________________________

Walking into the First Division's main hall, he’s reminded of the days during and after the Quincy invasion. Most of the captains had arrived, but the usual chatter and carrying on is absent.

Iba, who stands closest to the entrance, is the only one who acknowledges his arrival. “Captain Hitsugaya,” he says with a nod.

Toshiro does the same in return as he walks past. "Iba"

Kensei, his arms folded tightly over his chest, leans against a wall next to Shinji, who’s gaze is off to the side, lost in thought. Sui Feng paces from one corner of the room to the other, each time passing Isane, who looks flatly at the ground. Lisa stands in another corner, reading one of her books, her face hidden from view.

Kenpachi, surprisingly on time for once, stands near the meeting hall’s closed doors, his back turned. As Toshiro approaches though, he shifts to look down at him. He grunts in greeting, and looks away. It’s somehow both like him and uncharacteristic of him to act in such a way.

Byakuya and Rukia both arrive, and the quiet discussion they’d been having before dies as soon as they enter the hall. Like him, they’re only greeted by Iba and try to find a place to stand. Byakuya glances at Toshiro and gives a nod. He returns the gesture, and watches as Byakuya and Rukia choose stand next to Isane, who barely manages a smile to Rukia. Both look like they want to say something, but neither speaks.

Toshiro chooses his place, standing near the meeting hall’s entrance but away from Kenpachi. He folds his arms into his sleeves and keeps his gaze on the main hall’s entrance.

The air is tense, and the silence quietly rings in Toshiro’s ears. It’s only broken when Rose and then Mayuri arrive.

The latter starts to speak – what he says Toshiro doesn’t pay attention to but it's enough to make Sui Feng stop and say somethign back to him. Their impending argument is interrupted when the meeting hall’s doors finally open.

Shunsui stands on the other side, his usual smile and casual air nowhere to be seen. Everyone files in and takes their place in the hall. Despite the solemnness of their movements, Toshiro can feel the urgency among them.

They need to discuss what happened. They need answers. How do they stop this? How many of their own had they sent to Hell over these centuries? When would their new enemy next strike? What can they do to defend themselves?

They’d all seen it, and he isn't the only one who imagines the worst case scnearios.

They'll have to face their own.

_________________________________

“Let’s go get some ice cream.”

Toshiro blinks out of his revere and lifts his head from his propped-up hand. Momo stands beside the table, smiling and holding a straw hat. He hadn’t even sensed her coming into the lobby.

When the small table fan propels back in his direction, sending a welcomed gust of cold air over his face, he remembers to speak. “Aren’t you going shopping with Matsumoto?”

“Yes, but you should come along too. We can grab some ice cream before we go.”

He scoffs. “Forget it.”

Momo puts her hands on her hips. “Honestly, Hitsugaya-kun, you haven’t left this inn once since we got here!”

“We’ve only been here for a day, dummy.”

“Even so! Don’t you want to see what it’s like around here? It’s been a long time since any of us have been to a new location in the World of the Living.” At his blank stare, she sighs and drops the hand holding her hat to her side while the other points to the left. “At least come out and get some ice cream then. There’s a stall down just down the street.” Then, with a rueful smile. “Besides, you know how long it can take Rangiku-san to get ready.”

He almost lets a chuckle out. He rolls his eyes to the ceiling. Even when not looking at her, he can sense Momo’s persistence. She’s always been stubborn, and he’ll never understand why it always came out whenever it involved getting him to go to places he's never been.

He exhales, making a sound between a groan and a sigh. “Fine.”

To his surprise, Momo doesn’t reach out and grab him to drag him outside and down the street. She puts her hat on, waits for him to stand and leads the way out, patient with his slower and sluggish movements. Before leaving the table, Toshiro grabs his uchiwa.

As soon as they step outside, he considers turning back. It’s hotter than this morning, and there isn’t a cloud in sight to cover the sun.

Momo senses his hesitation and gestures towards a stall a short distance away. “It’s just down there.”

Logically, he knows it’s less than a two minute walk to the stall, but did he really want to make the journey?

“I’m pretty sure they have a peppermint flavor.”

That doesn’t really sell him, but he’ll pretend it does. With more irritation than he intends, he grouses, “Let’s just go.”

Thankfully, Momo doesn’t take it personally and giggles. “You really like peppermint, huh?”

“It’s one of the few good flavors for ice cream.”

“Mango and strawberry are good too.”

He only grunts.

Their shoes clack against the pavement, and where possible they stick to the shade of trees and awnings of shops. Save for the few passing cars, the singing of the cicada, and the distant crashing waves, it’s quiet. There are only a few others outside, going about their daily lives.

He fans himself as they walk, but it doesn’t cool him down much. Heat radiates from pavement through to the soles of his shoes, and a sweat is building on his brow. The humans and Momo walk around as if nothing is wrong. How can they stand this heat?

The gust of warm wind certainly doesn’t help matters. It does, however, make him aware of Momo’s hat. On one side of the hat’s band, there’s a cluster of small flowers, coloured different shades of pink and cream, and two short cords a sparkling bead on each end sway to and fro across the brim. It looks like something she would personally pick out, she always had an inclination towards clothes with floral designs on them.

He had picked some of his clothes the week before the trip, but the rest were chosen by Rangiku. He always had an inclination towards darker colours – like the navy blue tank top and grey shorts he wears now - while she always seemed to find the right balance in brighter colours for him. For all of her faults when it came to going nuts on clothes shopping, she always knows what fashionable clothes to buy.

“The others want to go to the beach later,” Momo says. “Are you going to come along? Or is it too hot for you?”

He waves a dismissive hand. “Is Kuchiki going?"

"Yes."

"Then I’ll stay back, she can supervise."

He almost goes back on his word at her saddened frown. “Well, it’s supposed to cooler tomorrow. You’ll come then, right?”

He can't say 'no'. “Sure.”

Once they’re at the stall, he relishes the chill emanating from the glass display and the cool wind of the fan whirling behind the counter. There’s not too many flavours to choose from, mostly just the popular ones.

Momo pouts. “Ah, it’s a shame they ran out of strawberry.”

He points to the mango flavour. “You could just get that.”

She shrugs. “Maybe, but I like to have two different flavous when I can. What do you think would go well with mango?”

Toshiro considers, perusing each flavour. Eventually, he points to the best one he can think of.

Momo snorts, her fingers pressing over lips in an attempt to suppress a giggle. She fails miserably at his incredulous look.

“What’s so funny?” he asks.

“I’m sorry, it’s just…Peach?”

“It’s sweet, so is the mango.”

“But…did you pick it because of that reason or because it reminds you of -- ?” She starts giggling again.

Why are his cheeks burning? No, this won’t do. He’d honestly picked it because he thought the two would work together. “As if I’d picked it for that reason! We’re not children anymore!”

Realising the commotion they’re causing, and sensing the growing queue behind them, Toshiro is quick to order his two scoops of peppermint ice cream in a cup and storms off to the side, waiting for Momo under the shadow of a table’s umbrella.

Trying to ignore the stares of a few of the humans, he takes the small plastic spoon and digs in. He’s pleasantly surprised; it’s one of the better ice creams he’s had, and it’s quite cold. Gradually, with each spoonful, it has the effect of both cooling him and his annoyance down.

Did she really think he chose peach because of her name? Did it remind her of when they were kids and he’d only remember to buy peaches when she was there? That hadn’t happened since they were very young.

Momo joins him almost a minute later, and they set off back to the inn. She takes a spoonful of each scoop, and he’s about to grumble about the fact she went for his suggestion in the end until she cringes.

Her whole face scrunches up and she makes a sounds between a yelp and a gasp. For a second, he fears she’s hurt. "Wha--?"

"It’s really cold!"

Now it’s his turn to hold in a chuckle. He too fails, and he doesn’t do anything to stop it, even as she complains.

“Oooh! You knew didn’t you?”

 “Yeah,” he chortles.

“Just because you have a tolerance for the cold!”

“You’re being childish, Hinamori.”

“I could say the same for you, Shiro-chan. You could’ve warned me!”

“That’s ‘Captain Hitsugaya’, Hinamori.”

Feeling he got the last word in, he smirks and slowly eats his ice cream right in front of her. She half glares at him. It’s not long before she lets out a huff, and what little irritation she had leaves her. "It's not a big deal, I'll just have to take smaller bites, and at least it tastes good.”

They continue on the pavement. Despite her bravado before, she still hestiates when she scoops up smaller bits of ice cream and eats them. He smirks, but otherwise doesn't tease her like before.

For the first time since he got here, he feels himself easing a little, and he looks to the source. Momo always has this effect on him at certain moments, where it was just the two of them and no one would be interrupting them. Maybe it’s seeing her this relaxed and content, it makes him want to be the same. Even as they were at the stall and browsing the ice cream flavours, he didn’t feel the usual apprehension to interacting with the person behind the counter – an old habit from his day in Junrinan, he’d realized years ago – because she was there with him.

It's not enough to lighten his mind of the thoughts that weigh him down, but they don’t churn in his head like waves in a stormy sea. He could put into words what has been bothering him. He could tell her right now, and maybe he’d be lighter. Maybe she’d already know and understand, because maybe she is still thinking about these things too.

“Hinamori…” He trails off when she looks over her shoulder at him. Momo walks in front of him in bright and colourful clothes, nothing like the uniform she takes pride in. She cradles the cup of mango and peach ice cream that’s already starting to melt. Her cheeks are flushed – or sunburned, he dreads – and up until now she’d been smiling. The little flowers and cord on her hat flutter in the wind, small and strangely fragile.

He walks past her. “Forget about it.”

She quickly comes in front of him and asks, “What is it?”

It’s rare for her to prod. Had he detected a hint of desperation in her voice? Had she noticed something in him and had been wanting to ask? He wouldn’t put it past her, she and Rangiku both have that uncanny ability to sense when he’s off kilter even when he doesn’t show it.

But now is not the time to tell her.

“Just make sure Matsumoto doesn’t spend too much, she could end up using Division funds.”

He maintains a stoic exterior in the face of her small, unconvincing smile. “Of course.”

_________________________________

A stick of incense had already been lit; someone else had visited Jushiro's gave before him. It won’t be long before it’s completely burnt out.

Toshiro makes his prays while the incense still burns, putting his hands together, closing his eyes, and bowing his head.

But what can he say? No words or sentiments come to mind. Not even hopes or wishes.

He does, however, recall a few memories of Jushiro. The first of when he first met the older captain; his long, white hair was tied back and he looked less pale than when Toshiro last saw him. He remembers the bags under his eyes getting progressively more prominent, and his absence from meetings becoming more frequent. At some point, the hair tie disappeared. His smile and optimism though, that only vanished in dire situations, but they always returned with as much mirth and sincerity as soon as the problem has been resolved.

How sharply those two things stood in contrast to what had transpired at this very spot.

Toshiro recalls with a repressed shiver the Jigoku no Rinki that had floated in the air around the grave just a week ago. A sign that the balance had been tipped, that Hell held enough power to break the peace. And they gave them that power. It was the price they all paid for becoming as strong as they did. This was the price they paid for allowing Aizen to grow as powerful as he did, and for imprisoning him when he was one of the beings keeping the balance from tipping. The irony sickens him.

He opens his eyes. Why is he here? Could Jushiro even hear prayers from where he is?

To think Souls like Jushiro are ending up there, fighting against all of it’s creatures and victims. He had no way of warning them of what they’ve been doing all of these centuries. What had he endured?

He can't keep the other possibility from turning over in his mind, and it makes his stomach churn. What if he isn't fighting against the creatures of Hell, but had become one of them?

Ichigo had told the captains what he'd seen who he'd fought against. Amongst his recollections was Sogyo no Kotowari, but the description he gave was not like the bankai Toshiro knew. It sounded warped and elongated to the point of being unnatural. He’s certain Hell had altered the former captain in more than just his bankai. How much has his appearance changed? Would he recognize Jushiro if saw him?

And not for the first time, Toshiro wonders if he will have to cross blades with him.

_________________________________

“Goodnight, sir,” Rangiku says while leaning on Momo and Hisagi. “Call if you need anything.”

Toshiro, his back turned to her, rolls his eyes to the ceiling. “We’re back at the inn, Matsumoto. Why would I need to call you?”

Rangiku giggles. “I didn’t mean on the phone!”

Momo laughs nervously. “But then he’d wake up everyone else, Rangiku-san.”

Rangiku considers for a moment, her head swaying from one side to the other. “…Oh yeah.”

“You sure drank a lot, huh?” Hisagi says.

“Hey, you drank too!” Rangiku retorts.

He chuckles. “Yeah, but not as much as you!”

Even in the dark, Toshiro can see the flush in his lieutenant and the Ninth Division's cheeks. He knows for Rangiku it's the sake, but for Hisagi it's a guess between the alcohol or from being that close to Rangiku.

Why am I even paying attention to this? Toshiro wonders.

Mercifully, they reach Momo and Rangiku’s room.

“Thank you again for paying for dinner, Captain Hitsugaya,” Hisagi says with a bow of his head.

Momo smiles at Toshiro. “Yes, thank you Hitsu – Captain Hitsugaya.” She waves her free hand. “Goodnight, and sleep well.”

Toshiro gives her a half-hearted wave back and half turns away.

Hisagi opens their door and helps Momo get Rangiku into the room as she groans about having drank too much. He comes out a few seconds later, closing the door behind him and walking into the room just opposite.

Toshiro remains in the hallway after Hisagi shuts his door. Save for a few shuffles in Momo and Rangiku’s room, the faint snoring from Ikkaku and Yumichika’s room down the hall, and the waves crashing in the distance, it’s dead quiet.

He should go to bed, but goes back the way he came, coming down to the ground floor and then out into the back courtyard. There are tables and chairs scattered throughout, some with umbrellas and others not. Beyond them, a railing lines a wooden deck that extends out to give a view of the main beach in the distance. Beneath him, only the streetlights, outdoor lanterns, and neon signs of bars, restaurants, and a convenience store illuminate the town.

He goes to the railing and rests his forearms along the top. The moon is a crescent, and he can still make out the tide crashing and receding. For the first time since he got here, it’s quiet. He’d longed for a moment like this, by himself and in cooler conditions. He thought it would be what he needed, but as he looks out over the town, it doesn’t take long for his mind to wonder. None of the humans here - or anywhere for that matter - truly know what is happening. If they did, how would they react?

His mind recalls the few times he was sent on a mission to the World of the Living, believing he was saving their world and keeping the balance. His subordinates would've felt the same, he imagines. Are they working on the reports he and Rangiku left behind right now? Are the captains and lieutenants still working to try and find out more about Hell? What if Hell is planning an attack? What if he -- ?

He shakes his head, then lets it fall to rest on his arms.

He pivots his mind to what had happened just a few hours ago. With the exception of Rukia and Ichika, they’d all gone to a shokudo for dinner. Rangiku had gotten started early on the sake, encouraging Hisagi, Ikkaku, and Renji to join her. It didn’t take long for the four of them to be carrying on, quibbling one minute then laughing together the next. He sat next to Rindou, who signed to him and the others about the food and what he had done today at the beach and in the town. Opposite them, Momo sat between Nanao and Kiyone, but every now and then she would glance in his direction. When he caught her, she’d either smile and return her focus to either Nanao or Kiyone, or she’d ask him something: ‘What did you order to drink?’, ‘How’s your dinner?’, and ‘Do you need extra ice?’.

It was a light-hearted atmosphere, but far removed from how he felt. Again, he wonders how they can act like this after everything they’d seen and heard. he almost had the urge to scream at them. Why weren't they discussing what they'd learnt? Why weren't they back at the Soul Society doing something about this?

But more than that, as he’d stared into his dinner, and as he glares at his feet now, he wonders why he can’t be like them. He can carry on professionally, continuing with paperwork and scheduling and leading his division, but outside of that…

He’d struggled in a similar way with the peace, always hypervigilant of a new threat that could appear after the war against the Quincy. He wishes he’d never lost that feeling, then maybe he wouldn’t feel as though he were struggling to stay afloat.

With a sigh through his nose, he straightens and walks back to his room. He doesn't plan to go to sleep, he knows he'll just be staring at the ceiling. He'll take Hyourinmaru, go somewhere secluded, and train.

_________________________________

“Why do you persist in coming here every week?”

Toshiro stays placid in the face of Mayuri’s irritation. The Twelfth Division captain hasn’t looked over at him, too focused on the readings a console produces.

Around them, there’s six division members busily doing the same, but two whisper their findings to each other and note them down on clipboards. However, every now and then, each officer glances over in the direction of the two captains. The only Soul who doesn’t is Nemu, who sits next to Akon and watches him as he types things into the system and explains to her what he's doing.

While being led to see Mayuri by Akon just a few minutes ago, Toshiro noticed in other lab rooms how frantic the officers were. They spoke in clipped whispers, and were quick to turn their backs when they realized he was passing by. By comparison, this lab is calm.

Toshiro folds his arms into his sleeves. “Perhaps it would be best if we speak in your office, Kurotsuchi.”

“And why should we do that?”

With a final glance to the others in the room, he says, “I’m checking for any updates on the de-zombification side effects.”

Now Mayuri whips around to him, his headpiece almost hitting the back of Akon’s head; neither his lieutenant or Nemu flinch. “And it’s as I’ve said: we’re still investigating all avenues.” The Twelfth Division Captain thrusts a hand to his console. “As is, we have more urgent matters at hand. Hell has made itself known, and we have been tasked with investigating how the Jigoku no Rinki was able to appear here, among other things. As a captain of Gotei Thirteen, you must say this take precedence, correct?”

Toshiro withholds a glare, because of course Mayuri is right. He should leave it there, just thank him for his time and go, but he’s lost his patience. “It’s been over ten years,” he whispers.

“And you rarely asked me about progress in those years,” Mayuri retorts, choosing to not lower his voice in return. “Suddenly, you’re in here every week and disrupting our work as a result.”

“It’s not my intention, Kurotsuchi.”

“Then explain yourself, if you would be so kind.” His voice is almost venomous, but Toshiro doesn’t back down.

He closes the gap between them and keeps his voice quiet. “The last progress you made was over three years ago, and it got shelved when the last solution failed to produce any results. As far as I’m aware, you haven’t explored any other options since, or if you have, you have not made me or Matsumoto aware of them.”

“Are you questioning my rigor? Are you not grateful anymore that I saved you and your lieutenant?”

“You know I am. If not for you, we would’ve died there and then. I am simply asking why you haven’t --”

“Then leave it be! How dare you make demands when I have done that much for you!”

“Matsumoto doesn’t have much longer left to live!”

Mayuri’s annoyance alleviates somewhat, his frown deepening and turning into one of confusion. After a pause, he speaks more quietly. “It’s not her you’re concerned for though, is it, Captain?”

That catches Toshiro off guard, and he grunts in surprise. Of course he’s concerned for Rangiku, and up until now he’d had little regard for his own life being shortened. He’d willingly take the price it paid, for better or worse.

Since Hell had made itself known, however, he’d been on edge. He’d let the anxiety he kept pushing down and simmering away get the better of him. If he dies in combat now, the Soul Society would have no choice but to perform a Konso Reisai twelve years after his passing. Could they find a way to return the balance by then? He would've once unequivocally said ‘yes’, but after everything that happened, from betrayals in their own ranks to the return of the Quincy, he didn’t know anymore. If they had given Hell so much power without realizing all of these years, just how long would it take to restore the balance between all the worlds?

He has no doubt Mayuri is investigating all of this, trying to determine the best course of action for Shunsui and the rest of the Gotei Thirteen. But when would it happen? What if it took too long? What will become of him and Rangiku?

“Master Mayuri.”

Both captains look towards Nemu. The young Soul appears as neutral as her voice had been, but her hand is fisted into the sleeve of Akon’s uniform.  The Twelfth Division lieutenant’s attention had also been diverted away from the console, and he looks between his captain and Toshiro, waiting for someone to speak.

Mayuri huffs, his anger cooling a fraction. “By my estimates, you and Lieutenant Matsumoto have well over a hundred and fifty years left. We have time to find a remedy and restore your lost lifespan.” He levels Toshiro with a hardened gaze. “If you continue to come here for any reason other than findings towards any of our research on Hell, I will have no choice but to report this to the Captain-Commander. Are we clear?”

To Toshiro’s surprise, he actually waits for his answer. He has no choice, and withholding a cringe, he nods.

Satisfied, Mayuri turns away and waves a hand towards the lab’s entrance. “Akon, escort him out of the division.”

“Yes, sir.”

Toshiro remains rooted to the spot for a moment longer. It’s useless, he knows, but he somehow hopes Mayuri will change his mind, will give him even an inkling into anything he’s found.

Toshiro follows Akon out. Neither say anything as they walk down the corridor.

It’s not her you’re concerned for though, is it, Captain?

How had he known? Did Mayuri have the same fears? That he will perish sooner rather than later, and he too could be forced into Hell if they do not find a solution to restoring the balance between all the worlds? It’s hard to imagine someone like him worrying about such things.

But then, he did have Nemu, and for all of his faults and failings, he was treating this Nemu better than the last.

Toshiro shakes his head. Everything seems wrong. Because if Mayuri Kurotsuchi of all people can understand what he’s going through, then the world has surely gone mad.

He knows as soon as he leaves here, he’ll go train. It’s the best way to deal with the pent-up emotions. It's the only way he can think of deal with their current predicament. If he can become stronger, somehow further refine his bankai and shikai. He'll become an unstoppable force, one that could protect the Soul Society from Hell.

_________________________________

Ichika’s laughter comes through the walls. Despite the fact it was the reason for his rude awakening, Toshiro’s oddly relieved to hear it. He’d seen her in the aftermath of Hell’s invasion of the World of Living; she was pale and quiet, clinging to Renji so tight her knuckles were white. She also hadn’t bothered him with spontaneous visits to the Tenth Division office since the incident.

Regardless, after two weeks, she was running around and causing mischief like always – at least according to Ikkaku and Renji. Children have that ability to bounce back, even in times of uncertainty. He remembers when he could do it, but it is a trait that has slowly faded over time.

Toshiro groans as he sits up. A tiny sliver of daylight piercing his room through the curtains. He checks his denreishikai; it’s just after eight in the morning. He’s usually up with the sun, but being on this holiday in this God forsaken heat continues to make him sluggish.

He rises from his bed and goes to the wind to draw the curtains back. At least the clouds are back today. He has a view of the biggest beach in the area, and judging from the gleam one person’s head gives off, he guesses it’s Ikkaku doing laps in the ocean; Yumichika probably isn’t far from him, likely being one of the people sitting under a beach umbrella.

If they’re already there, then the others are likely not far behind. As if on cue, he hears Renji and Ichika leaving their room, excitedly chattering about going down to the beach. As they pass his room, Rukia comments on her husband’s clothing – “Did you pick that shirt? And what does ‘Sun’s out, guns out’ mean?” – but Toshiro doesn’t hear the rest over Ichika’s laughter.

He glances at the bag Hyourinmaru is hidden away in. He briefly recalls his training from last night - not that he was able to do much without drawing unwanted attention from locals. He'd practiced his zanjutsu in a forested area on the other side of town, and had returned to inn in the early hours of the morning. At least it had tired him out enough to make him fall asleep.

With a long exhale, he focuses back on today. If he’s going to use his zanpakuto while there, he’ll have to be discreet about it; and he has no doubt the others will be clamoring for him to make shaved-ice.

He goes to the bathroom, which is several degrees warmer than his room. After showering and getting changed into a shirt and a pair of board shorts, there’s a knock on his door.

“Captain, are you awake yet?” Rangiku asks in a singsong tone.

Toshiro sighs. All of this cheerfulness is too much after just waking up. “Yeah.”

She opens the door, but she’s not alone.

“We’ve got your breakfast here, Hitsugaya-kun.” Momo holds out a plastic bag and takeaway coffee cup. “I just chose what I thought you’d might like, I hope that’s okay.”

Rangiku enters his room, but stops only a few steps in. “Captain, it’s freezing in here!” she complains, rubbing her bare arms. “How do you stand it?”

“It’s hot,” is all he says as comes over to them. “Why didn’t you wake me earlier?”

“We figured you could do with a sleep in,” Rangiku says. “It’s so rare that it happens, and you’re on a break, you’re supposed to do things like that.”

“I’m supposed to be supervising over all of you.”

“Supervising,” Rangiku says under breath with a sigh. “Honestly, Captain.”

“So is Captain Kuchiki,” Momo says at the same time. “Honestly, Hitsugaya-kun, it’s okay to relax even when you’ve been assigned to watch over us.”

He shakes his head. “In any event, what’s happening today? I assume you’re all going down to the beach?”

_________________________________

Toshiro watches Granny hanging the washing. He’d tried to help her, but she’d waved him off and told him to go rest inside.

“You hardly ever get a break these days,” she said. “You’re such a hard worker, but you should rest more often.”

He'd made a pot of tea, and by the time she’s done it’ll be cool enough for her to drink. He'd also set up a bowl of amanatto and placed it next to the clay cups on the tray.

As he waits, he fiddles with one of his old spinning tops. He’d dug it out from the closet, buried behind futon mattresses and other things from his childhood. He still doesn’t understand why Granny keeps most of it, she’s always been a practical person who hates clutter.

He slowly wraps the cord around the top of the toy, but never releases it. He holds it loosely in his fingers, but his gaze remains on Granny. She bends down to her basket and pulls out another sheet to hang. In isolation, it's a peaceful image.

Her life rarely changes. She still goes to the same stalls and shops for food and household supplies. She still drinks the same tea blends, washes the same clothes and linens, and wakes up and goes to sleep at the same times every day.

Her life is simpe and despite it’s repetitiveness, it’s unplanned. Things are just the way they are, and they work for her.

For the first time in decades, he wishes he could return to that life. Even with all the negatives that came with it, compared to life he leads now, it’s peaceful and far less complicated.

He planned things to a fault, he should’ve known it would be his downfall one day; or at least, lead to disappointment when something came and ruined everything. Of course the peace couldn’t last, something had to disrupt it. Life is never the same, it's never consistent. How long had he expected it to go on for?

But that was the thing. He never made plans for the peace, he had simply lived in it. It was almost like his life before he became a captain, only with more responsibilities he could handle.

Granny turns to him after hanging up the last of the washing. Her smile widens when she spots the teapot and bowl of amanatto. He can’t help but smile back despite the growing heaviness within him.

He doesn't plan to tell her about Hell yet. He won’t break this peace for her.

_________________________________

It’s far too hot, even under the shade.

Toshiro lies his head and torso over the picnic table, a cup half filled with melting shaved ice in one hand and a spoon in the other. The shelter above and around him is made of wood and obstructs the view of onlookers that weren’t on the beach. Combined with having so few humans around, it allows him to discreetly use his zanpakuto to make shaved ice in one of it's corner.

Rangiku had gone out and bought bottles of syrup, paper cups, and wooden spoons from a nearby convenience store. All of it is stored in a freezer bag along with a bucket of the ice he’d conjured up five minutes ago. Hyournmaru lies out of sight in his own bag, but the cold flowing form the blade brushes along the floor of the shelter, cooling his feet and ankles. He considered himself a glorified placeholder for the table, and so long as he is here, no humans would come along and accidentally spot his weapon.

With some effort, he raises himself to take another spoonful of slushy ice and munches on it. He watches the group on the beach, all doing various things. Ikkaku and Hisagi race each other, doing several laps in the ocean. If it weren’t for the heat bearing down on him above and the hot sand between the shade and the ocean, he’d be doing laps himself.

He slides his gaze over to Kazui and Ichigo, both wading into the water while Orihime collected seashells along the shoreline ; they’d taken the train to come down for the day. Orihime finds a shell that makes her grin and she jogs to the Abarai family. Ichika makes a sandcastle with Rukia, giggling when Renji comes up behind her with a wreath of seaweed and tickles her with it before draping it over one of the walls. It’s then Orihime gets their attention and hands them a few seashells to decorate another wall.

Further up the beach, Nanao walks up to Rangiku, who sunbathes on a towel. She lectures Rangiku about something -- likely the fact she's sunbathing in the first place -- and his lieutenant squints up at her in response. Yumichika, relaxing under an umbrella, makes a comment which makes Rangiku snap at him and Nanao wearily rolls her head to one side.

Rindo, Momo and Kiyone had gone for a walk up the beach to the rockpools. Toshiro spots them as specks in the distance, and the footprints they'd left behind are gradually washed away every time the waves surge in.

He takes another spoonful of shaved ice, then eases back down to the table and begins to doze off. There’s only the darkness beneath his eyelids, the crashing of waves, the hot breeze that blows through, Hyourinmaru's cold circling around his ankles and the distant voices of the Shinigami and humans. He can’t relax, ending up in a state between being awake and on the verge of napping.

It’s twenty minutes later when he’s startled by a call of his name. He opens his eyes and turns his head just in time to see Kazui and Ichika racing towards him. He lets go of his completely melted shaved ice to raise himself up.

“Captain Hitsugaya!” Kazui calls out again, grinning.

“He heard you the first time, dummy!” Ichika chastises.

He thinks to lecture her about calling Kazui a dummy -- it seems like the responsible thing to do -- but someone beats him to it.

“Don’t call Kazui-chan bad names, Ichika-chan!” Momo calls out from behind. She pants and tries to keep her hat on as she rushes to catch up to them.

Ichika blushes slightly in shame, but otherwise doesn’t respond. Kazui isn't phased, his grin still in place.

With as much energy as he can muster, Toshiro lazily waves his hand in greeting before the children come to a stop in the shelter. “Babysitting?” he says to Momo.

She shakes her head. “They just happened to be on their way to see you too.”

He returns his attention to Kazui and Ichika. “You two looking for some shaved ice?”

They both nod eagerly.

“Papa said you make the best shaved ice ever,” Ichika says.

I’m the only one here who can, he thinks. He only grunts as he twists around to the freezer bag. The ice had gotten more slushy, but it's still usable. “Which flavours do you want?”

“Watermelon!” they say in unison.

Toshiro smirks. “Good choice.”

He takes out the syrup and puts it on the table, then scoops two cups into the ice and sticks a spoon in each. He hands them over to the children. “It’s all yours.”

As expected, they go crazy with the syrup, completely dying the ice red. Momo intervenes before it can get too messy, making sure most of the flavoring stays in the cups.

“You two should eat that under the shade,” she says, pointing at the umbrellas Yumichika and Nanao rest under. “And make sure you bring the empty cups back here, okay?”

Toshiro withholds a chuckle. Since when is she their mother?

Ichika and Kazui both nod to Momo, then turn back to Toshiro.

“Thank you, Captain Hitsugaya,” Kazui says with a quick bow of his head.

Ichika does likewise. “Thank you!”

He waves a hand. "Enjoy, I guess."

They take that as their cue to run off. They go to Yumichika and Rangiku, who both cease their argument when the children arrive and make room for them under the umbrellas.

He turns to Momo, but she’s still watching Ichika and Kazui. She's flushed across her cheeks and shoulders, and sand dusts her shins and sandaled feet. Strangely, he senses hesitation from her, as though she is nervous about turning to face him. It’s in her posture, which though looking relaxed to most, has the signs she’s trying to hide. Her arms are loosely braced over her midsection, and her shoulders are a few inches higher than normal.

“You want one too?” he asks, getting her attention.

Momo shakes her head, smiling. “Oh, no, I was just coming to see how you were doing.”

He ignores the small, warm flutter her concern sends through his chest and takes an empty cup out of the bag. “You might as well have one.”

She considers for a moment. “…Well, it is getting hotter.”

“Orange, lime, or watermelon? Matsumoto didn’t buy mango and the strawberry is empty.”

 “You remembered?”

He hides his embarrassment by saying nothing and stooping lower than necessary to fill up the cup with ice.

From behind, she giggles. “In that case, orange please.”

He fishes out the syrup and a spoon before he twists back around and hands everything to her.

“I’m sure everyone appreciates you doing this,” she says while pouring the syrup.

“Feels like that the main reason I’m here,” he mutters drily.

“That’s not true!”

“I didn’t mean it, dummy.”

She makes a sound between a sigh and a chuckle. “Now who’s calling people bad names.”

He rests back down on the table, watching as she takes a spoonful of orange ice and chomps down on it. She gives an appreciative hum and her smile turns into a grin. “Thank you, Shiro-chan.”

And despite her old habit, he’s certain if he were in a better mood he’d give her a small smile in return. “Captain Hitsugaya.”

She continues to eat as if she hadn’t heard him.

It feels like this is where their interaction should end, that she should walk off back to the others. She stays rooted to the spot, and it’s unnatural to him.

“You didn’t have to come check on me,” he says.

She pauses, staring down into the shaved ice. “I know.”

Why did it sound like she’d taken his comment as a jab? His frown deepens. “Weren’t you going to the rockpools before?”

“Yeah, but Rindou-kun and Kotetsu-san wanted to go out further than I intended.” She raises a foot and wriggles her toes. “I wasn’t wearing the right shoes to go with them.”

She isn’t lying, but he senses there’s more to it. As he considers whether to prod any further, she suddenly stops eating, sticking the spoon into the ice. “Have you just been lying here all day?”

He shrugs. “More or less.”

“But that’s no good. You should have something to do here!” She shakes her head. “The majority voted for a beach, but...maybe we should’ve gone somewhere else.”

“Why do you…?” Why does that strike a nerve within him? Why did she feel the need to make sure he is having a good time here? She didn’t belong under the shade, she loves the sun and places like this; most Shinigami did.

Why is he even here?

He gives a frustrated grunt. “Just go back to the others already.”

At her widened, alarmed eyes, he realizes he’d said it with the irritation he'd been trying to hide and with more strictness than he’d intended. Damn this heat! No, he can’t blame it on the weather. He’d let the heaviness in his mind get the better of him, and the uncertainty about why they are here.

He forces himself back up, ignoring the strain in his arms. After a beat, he begins to apologise. “I didn’t mean --”

She lays a hand on his. She curls her fingers loosely around his wrist, a silent way of saying he can remove himself from her grasp. Her hand is colder than usual, thanks to the shaved ice. But had they always been this small? How had he only just noticed it?

“I get it. I know the heat gets to you,” Momo says. She looks out to the sea for a pause before continuing. “I-I know it’s not much, but in the evening, it’ll be cooler. If you want to and you’re up for it, we can come back here and walk along the beach after dinner.”

“Why do you want to do that?”

“Because you deserve to enjoy the beach too.”

I don’t even like beaches, is what he’d say aloud, but he won’t.

"And…" She purses her lips, and her cheeks become a shade darker. "We're friends, aren't we? I want to spend some time with my friends. Don't you want to do the same?"

There’s that look, the one she always had when she tried to help others. He’ll never tell her how much it meant to him to see she was still capable of showing that gaze after everything she went through.

At his lack of a response, her gaze flutters to the ground. “I mean, if you’d rather be alone, then that’s okay too. Just so long as you’re able to enjoy yourself.”

“No.” He gentle extracts his hand from her grasp. She raises her head, confused.

It’s then he feels how tired he is. It’s not lethargy from the heat, it’s something deeper. Something that was the result of holding back too much, and maybe, as she waits for him to elaborate, it’s time she knew about it. “We’ll go together.”

His heart clenches at the stunned softness in her eyes. Eventually, she smiles. “Okay.”

“Oi, Hinamori-san!”

Both turn to look in the direction of Hisagi, who waves to her. “We’re doing the race now!”

“I’ll be there!” she calls back. Then to Toshiro. “I promised them I’d be the time keeper for a race they’re doing.”

Toshiro watches Hisagi, Ikkaku, Renji, Ichigo, Kazui, and Ichika all gather together on the sand. Nanao stands off to the side a small towel in her hand – probably the as a flag to signal for them to start. Rangiku uses the end of an umbrella to draw a long line in the sand.

Toshiro doesn’t see the point of racing on a beach, especially in this heat and with all of their abilities, so all he has to offer is, “Whatever keeps them entertained.”

Momo backs out of the shelter, and with the spoon still in her mouth, says something to the effect of, “I’ll see you later.”

He watches on as Momo rushes down and takes her place next to Nanao, who hands her a stop watch.

 Kazui quickly eats the rest of his shaved ice, while it seems Ichika had passed hers to Rukia. She and Renji are amping each other up, but Ichika bursts into laughter.

I want to spend some time with my friends. Don't you want to do the same?

They've never been a normal group, but this seems in character for all of them. For the first time since coming here , Toshiro is glad they can act like they always do despite what looms over them.

_________________________________

He’s rarely wondered about the future. He always did schedules for division-related activities, and would keep appointments made in mind when planning his week or month. But he never thought of any of these things beyond what was necessary. He never considered what his own future held.

There were only four instances he can think of when he pondered on what lay ahead for him: the first was when he had to leave Granny to go to the Academy, the second was when he'd been appointed captain of the Tenth Division, the third was while he recovered from his injuries after Aizen’s defeat, and the fourth was in first few months after the war against the Quincy ended.

He’s always considered himself someone who lives in the present, who only plans for the future if the present shows him he needs to. Even then, he only went as far as he needed to, never going beyond into the 'what ifs' that weren't related to the task at hand.

Lately, he wonders how the buildings around him will change as the years go by. Will they need repairs from unprecedented weather events? Will they be renovated to look different? Will the Tenth Division get another barracks as it’s forces grow in numbers?

He wonders how tall the trees in his division will grow, and if any of them will have to be cut down.

He also wonders what beings he has yet to meet. Unless Ichigo and Orihime plan to have another child, he doubts there will be more than three humans he'll ever have to introduce himself to. He keeps away from the Arrancar where possible, but he's certain there's Souls still out there he will cross paths with more than once. What new recruits will have to introduce himself to? Will any of the captains retire and be replaced?

He wonders when Hyourinmaru’s Completed form will become his true bankai, where he will no longer have to wait for the petals to fall. He wonders if the transformation will ever be less painful or strainious.

He wonders when Hell will make it’s next move. In the next year? Or month? Or week? Or tomorrow? He can see Jushiro's bankai elongating out of Hell's gates, a grotesque distortion of what they were all once familiar with. How did the rest of him look? Would he remember who any of them were? And if he did, would he resent them for what they unknowingly did?

He wonders how much longer Granny and Rangiku have to live.

He wonders how much longer he has left.

Prior to the completed form, he could never picture how he’d looked as an adult. In a strange way, it’s as if the world has told him he won’t make it, that he will only transform into that age but not live to experience it. He can’t picture Rangiku as being older than she is, or any of the his fellow Shinigami for that matter.

That of course included Momo, who sits in front of him, talking while putting paperwork in front of him. He hasn’t heard a word she’s said. Even though he can’t picture her as an adult, he’s mostly certain she has a future as one. One where she smiles often, and still calls him ‘Shiro-chan’ because old habits die hard. She still sees Renji and Izuru for the occasional meet up, and goes with Rangiku to bars and carries her back to the Tenth Division barracks. She starts a bigger literature club, where members will talk about the books they’ve read and she will make sure everyone gets a chance to talk. He can see her taking up painting on top of the drawing she already does, and her room will have the faint smell of paints and drawing charcoal.

Maybe there would’ve been a time he could see himself there too, but that window seems to get narrower and narrower the heavier these thoughts make him feel.

“Are you all right?”

Toshiro tries to keep his reaction muted, but a startled gasp still leaves him when her hand comes over his forearm. He’s about to come up with some excuse, but her concern softens him.

“You weren’t here, were you?” she says.

He looks at the paperwork, unable to deny it.

She glances down her hand, and appears surprised she touched him. She's quick to lean back, but her hand slides off his arm and remains close by. “What’s on your mind?”

The top line of the document in front of him reads ‘Agenda for joint training session 34’. He takes a stab at what she was saying before. “It’s nothing to worry about, just trying to figure out schedules for the next three months. If we try to do a joint training session next month, it will have to be in the first week.”

Her brow twitches, trying to not frown. Her eyes search his, but again he looks down at the paperwork.

“Yes, of course.”

It’s as she says this that he realizes the document has nothing to do with a joint training session for his division. It was for one with Third Division; she likely showed him as an example of what they could do next time for a kido training session.

He bites the inside of his cheek, ashamed. He's supposed to be a captain, where was his focus?

He waits for her to correct him. Then she’ll try to pry it all out of him, because she always wants to knows what’s on his mind. He doesn’t want to snap at her, would never do such a thing under any circumstances. But this weight, these thoughts, they were beginning to take up more space within him. He doesn’t know how he’ll react to her trying to navigate through them with him.

“Captain,” she says, surprising him enough to make him look up. Her smile is small and unsure, but she persists. “Actually, I didn’t just come here to discuss training sessions. The Women’s Association is looking to fund a vacation to the World of the Living. It’s a chance for everyone to have a break from work, we haven’t had a proper one in over ten years, right?”

“Why are you bringing this up?”

Her smile almost wobbles away, but she finds the strength to not only keep it in place, but to widen it too. “I’m inviting you to come along.”

________________________________

Compared to the afternoon, the sand is cooler under Toshiro’s feet. He strolls down to the sea, hands in his pockets and head bowed. Momo is behind him, but she pauses every now and then pick up seashells.

He doesn’t stop until he reaches the shoreline. The last sliver of the sun disappears over the horizon, colouring the sky dark blues and purples. A lone boat travels across the waves to a nearby dock. Behind him, a few cars whizz by and people go out for the night to bars and restaurants. Rangiku and a few of the others are among them, going to a izakaya tonight for dinner and drinks. He can already imagine how silly they’ll be acting by the time he and Momo rejoin them later tonight on the way back to the inn.

With a shake of his head, he turns his attention to the waves lapping at his toes. The next surge sends a wave over his feet. The froth of the sea spins around his ankles and the cold of the water tingles across his skin before receding away, only to return seconds later. It’s oddly relaxing, and he’s entranced by the motions of the waves. They come and go, come and go, never ceasing. It’s been like this for millions of years, since before he or anyone he knows were ever born. It has a beginning but no ending in sight.

It’s the first time he’s been at peace since the revelations about Hell came to light. Even so, the unease threatens to bubble up from the pit of his stomach. For even if there is no end in sight he can see, the ocean will vanish one day, whether it be Hell being strong enough to destroy this world, or a more natural end much further down the line.

So caught up in this, he doesn’t register Momo approaching until she’s by his side, and flinches when she speaks.

“There’s already so many stars out,” she marvels.

Thankfully, her is gaze on the dusk sky. Gone is her hat and hair ties, allowing the breeze lightly tussles her hair around her shoulders and back. She wears a shirt rolled up to the sleeves, and a bright orange summer dress beneath it. In one hand she holds her sandals, and shells in the other.

Indeed, stars glimmer down at them. Being this far away from the lights of the town, there’s more of them then he usually accustomed to in the World of the Living, and constellations he’s never seen before.

“I can see the pear.” Momo points to a cluster of stars on the right. “Remember that one?”

One of the many silly constellations they made up as children. “If that’s somehow it, it still doesn’t look like a pear.”

“Yeah it does! There’s the stem, and there’s the rest!” As she says this, she traces her finger over each star to map it out for him. “Its just upside down.”

He shakes his head. “You always had a strange imagination.”

She scoffs. “It’s called being creative.” After a moment, she tilts her head to one side. “I didn’t think it would show up in the World of the Living.”

“Our sky isn’t much different from there’s.”

“I guess not.”

The mood has lightened slightly, but the silence that follows is filled with the crashing of waves. They can remain like this, but like earlier today, it doesn’t feel natural. He turns to her, but she still has her eyes on the stars. He can leave her to be like this, oblivious to what is going on beneath the surface.

“Hinamori.” He has her attention now. He unknowingly takes in a deep breath as his stomach clenches, but he can’t stand not knowing anymore. “Why did you invite me to this?”

The question doesn’t catch her off guard like he expected it to. Instead, she tucks the shells she’d collected into one of her shirt pockets and glides her foot through the water. “It’s a shame we all couldn’t be here, and I know what happened is still on all of our minds, but it’s good to see those who did are relaxing a little. The last few months have been tough, and we all deserve to have a break from it. To step away for a little while.” She smiles wistfully. “That’s why I invited you to come. Even though it’s at a beach, and even though it’s only for a few days, I thought it would be good to spend time with you, Rangiku-san, Nanao-san, Abarai-kun, and the others away from what’s been bothering us.”

He thought hearing her say he wasn’t the only one thinking about the revelations about Hell would reassure him, but it only serves to annoy him. He’s no fool, he knows the others hadn’t forgotten about what happened, but why use their time here of all places? They can’t have moved on, this was too insurmountable to move on from.

“Aren’t we just running away?” He hadn’t meant to voice the question aloud, and it makes Momo's brow furrow.

His voice rises as he continues. “Shouldn’t we be using this time to plan for Hell’s next attack? We know nothing about their strategy. They’ve done nothing since Ukitake’s Konso Reisai, andKurotsuchi keeps investigating, but nothing ever comes up. We’re just here, doing nothing about it.” He throws his hands out to the sides. “We didn’t even know what we’ve been doing to our former captains this whole time!”

Momo shakes her head. “We couldn’t have known.”

“But now we do! And what now? We’ll go to battle, that’s for certain, but what if this battle doesn’t end like the others?”

“That we’ll lose?”

“No, not even that. That we’ll be fighting Hell for decades. The first war against the Quincy lasted years, Hinamori. What if this battle is the same? What if we lose more captains, and we’ll have no choice but to perform Konso Reisai for all of them?”

“You…really think the conflict would last that long?”

“I don’t know, and that’s…” He let’s out an exasperated breath. He’s never like this, shouting and venting his thoughts, and that only frustrates him even more. “We need something concrete! We need direction, and we won’t get that unless we’re working on it back in the Soul Society. Hell must be doing this deliberately, it's a psychological tactic to weaken us."

She looks at him in confusion and worry, an expression that would normally cool his anger and makes him reassess what he'd said. But he's in too far now, he won't stop.

“You saw Sogyo no Kotowari.”

She frowns, likely wondering where this is going. “Only at a glance. Kurosaki-san saw it up close.”

“But his description fit what you saw, yes?”

She nods solemnly. “I thought I was seeing things, but when I got back to the Soul Society and found out what was happening with the Konso Reisai, it suddenly made sense.”

“Ukitake impaled that Espada, but we don’t know for what reason. We don’t know if he is on our side or not. If he isn’t, if everyone we have sent to Hell this whole time isn’t, we’re going to have to face them.”

The grip on her arm tightens. “I know.”

“I won't to become like Ukitake,” he says fiercely, bordering on a growl. “I won't become warped. If I have to fight him and the others, then so be it. But I won't to become like them. I don’t want to…”

“What makes you think you’ll die before the conflict is over?” she asks.

He doesn't answer, can't answer as his throat tightens.

“You won’t die, Shiro-chan.”

“How can you know that?” he struggles to get out.

“Because you’re one of the strongest Shinigami I know, in skill, in your bond with your zanpakuto, and in fortitude.” Her eyes become glassy and her voice gets increasingly louder. “Someone like you doesn’t die so easily. I know you’ll keep fighting, no matter you are faced with!  You lived through so much, and survived wounds that would kill so many! You don’t give up, you’ve never given up, it’s a quality you embody above everything else! There’s no way you can die, don’t even think about it! And don't push everyone away!”

She pants for breath, and he’s at a loss for words. Had she too been bottling something up? Was it anxiety about Hell, or was it about him?

A wave hits the back of his shins. They both look down. When had the water gotten this high? Is the tide already coming in, or had they waded further into the sea? Wordless, he walks back to the shore, and after a moment, she follows. He halts once he’s back at the shoreline, but she takes a few steps away from it.

As her breathing quietens, Momo’s gaze searches for something in him. Her eyes are so wide, alarmed and on the verge of tearing up. “I-I didn’t understand why you were becoming so distant, I thought getting away from the Soul Society would help, but now I think I know. Are you…?” She’s conflicted, her lips opening to continuing her question, only to close seconds later and becoming a taut, pressed line.

He’d wanted to tell her what was on his mind, but not like this. To his own ear, he’s ended up sounding both paranoid and like a child complaining about something not going his way. He ended up upsetting her. Toshiro sighs, suddenly more tired than before. “What is it?”

She still hesitates, her focus on the waves circling his ankles. Eventually, she raises her head and steps closer. “Are you scared?”

It hits him in the chest like a stone thrown into glass. For a second, his blood runs tight and cold in his limbs. His heart skips a beat, then clenches. He can feel hairline fractures running through him, threatening to break apart. Momo hadn’t hit the nail on the head, but she knows one facet of what is going on within him.

The impact she made must show, because her expression softens further. “It’s okay if you are, I think we all are.” She gives a weak shrug. “I think it’s why we’re all here. In this time of uncertainty, the only thing we can do right now is to be here with our friends. We can’t let the uncertainty of the future stop us from living in the present with those we care about.”

Or we could be planning. Somehow, the thought sounds strange, as if the sentiment behind it weren’t quite right anymore.

Momo closes the gap between them, their hands almost brushing. “If you really feel we shouldn’t be here, then why did you come?” It’s not an accusation, only a gentle question.

Because you wanted me to. She still isn’t aware of the hold she has over him, but how would she react if she knew? But her invite hadn’t been the only reason, nor had it just been Rangiku and Granny’s encouragement, or Shunsui appointing him as one of the supervisors.

We can’t let the uncertainty of the future stop us from living in the present with those we care about.

Maybe if the mood were different, he would tease her for picking up on his philosophy. In her own way, she had describe what would be his usual way of thinking about any situation. He slides his gaze to the horizon, watching the waves form, build, then curl in and crash in on themselves. It reminds him the fireworks, how they rise and flare into existence, only to scatter and fade away after they’ve exploded in the sky.

What happened to him? Why is he like this?

No, he already knows why. He swallows thickly and closes his eyes, but it does nothing to help. If he looks at the source of all of this now, the fractures might get bigger, but if he doesn't, they'll only run deeper.

And so, he opens his eyes to the stars.

“Before Hell, Kurotsuchi was working on a cure for the de-zombification process for Matsumoto and I,” he begins, his voice rougher. “That included returning the years of our life taken by the procedure, or at least, extending out lifespans to something greater than what they currently are. I expected slow progress, but when Hell revealed itself to us, of course work into a cure had ceased all together. It’s the right thing to do. We lay our lives down for the Soul Society.” His gaze fixes on her. “For our friends.”

Momo lets out a long, silent breath, her shoulders falling lower. She waits, always patient and willing to listen to him. He

“Knowing what will happen once those who obtained bankai die, knowing we can become so warped, that we can fight against our former officers, our friends. If I die before the conflict ends, that's what I'll become. I don't want that. I never want to hurt anyone on our side." I never want to hurt you again. "I didn't want..." I didn't want the peace to end."I don't..." I don't want to die.

Something drops into the sand behind them. Then, her arms around him, pulling him into side ways hug. His widened eyes stare straight ahead, unblinking and unfocused. The last time they had hugged was when the war against the Quincy had ended. Why is it they only hug when they're sad? But the feel of her arms around his shoulders, to know she's here with him, it makes him shudder, verging of a sob. He holds it back, believing it would do neither of them any good, but he turns in her arms and wraps his own around her.

“Without knowing what’s ahead, I can’t just relax like everyone else,” he admits.

“I know,” she whispers, voice tight. "With all of that on your mind, how could anyone?"

"And knowing I don't have much longer to live…"

A minute passes, and there's only the waves, which now coming up to their mid shines. The tide is definitely coming in, it wont be long before it gets higher.

Toshiro thinks to pull away, but Momo's arms tighten around him. "There's still time for Captain Kurotsuchi to find a cure for you and Rangiku-san, I know he won't give up on it. We don't know what we're up against, but that's nothing new for us, isn't it?" and he feels her smile against his temple. “In times of uncertainty and without answers, we only have each other, " she says "You look out for others, and become stronger for others. It’s why one of the reasons you’re worried about the future, right? It’s not just about fearing an early death, isn’t it? You care about everyone, you want to know what you can do to protect them for what’s to come. You want to live with everyone, right?”

His heart quivers. He’d seen everyone’s confusion and dourness for more than a month, and it did nothing to alleviate the emotions that slowly took hold of him. The peace had softened him, had made him so accustomed to seeing everyone in higher spirits. He missed it, longed for it after what they had learned about Hell. He especially missed seeing Momo that way, after everything she went through, by Aizen's hand and unintentionally his own.

He recalls how fragile the flowers in her hat looked, how small her hands seemed. He hadn't had to think about protecting anyone in years, hadn't had to be vigilant or on guard at all times, but they'd slowly been bubbling back to the surface in the recent months. When Hell comes, those feelings will come back in full force. He would never let anything harm her, not when he now has the powers to protect her.

As the seconds pass, a strange grief take hold. He mourns for an uncertain future, for a future that will likely not be his. She has been a part of his life for so many years, and there was a time he was certain she would still be there with him in the future, but now, even if he makes it out of this alive, who's to say of she or Rangiku will be there? It's always been a possibility, ever since any of them became Shinigami, but with Hell now posing as a threat - one that has broken the peace they'd enjoyed for over ten years - it only exacerbates the chances of it happening. He mourns for the peace that is broken, because at some point without realising, he had seen that as their future. They would all go on happily, performing their duties with only the occasional hitch, but nothing that would threaten their everyday lives, the very existence of all the worlds.

The peace was too good to last; but it had happened, and he had enjoyed it with everyone else. It's the way of all the worlds; the good can only last for so long, but it never completely vanishes. It finds it's way back in smaller ways.

With a new wave smacking particularly hard into the backs his legs, he pulls away. He takes her hand, ignoring the surprised look she gives him, and leads her out of the water. “Come on, we should head back, the tide is starting to come in.”

Along the way, she stoops down and picks up the sandals she’s thrown aside to hug him. They walk up the beach and up the mounds and stairs in silence.

What they'd talked about isn't really an answer or a solution to his worries. He’ll feel this unease about the future for as long as Hell is a threat. But the waves, they ebb and flow. The stars burn until there’s nothing left; they shine brightly until they fade away. The worlds go on, with or without beings who have left them. It's both a disconcerting and calming thought.

As they near the road a few minutes later, Momo she gives his hand a squeeze. "Thank you, Hitsugaya-kun."

"Huh?"

"For telling me everything. I know it couldn't have been easy for you." Then, ruefully, "I'm sorry that this all happened at a beach."

Toshiro could almost laugh, but he manages to withhold it. "It was a majority vote for the location, there was no changing that."

He doesn't looks back at her until they stop on the side of the road. The streetlight next to them casts half of her face in white-yellow light, while the sign of a nearby restaurant casts the other in pink and red.

"You've always been like this. Willing to listen to others, to let them speak their minds." He gives her a small smile. "I should be thanking you."

She gives a embarrassed shrug. "I'm not always like that."

He could argue with her until they're both deaf about her modesty, but he refrains. "Maybe you're right. It's good to...be away for a while, even if it's somewhere like here."

"Even if you can't stop thinking about what happened? Or what's to come?"

It's not her intention, but it almost feels like a test from the universe, to see if he has taken what she'd said to heart. He steps closer, gaze intent. "It's like you said, there was no way we could stop completely thinking about what happened. I can't let these thoughts go, I can't be like everyone else . I won't stop thinking about what happened, not until we can predict Hell's next moves." He bows his head. "I'm sorry for how I've been on this trip."

She shakes her head. "You have nothing to apologize for. If anything, I'm sorry for trying to force you to relax. I should've just come out and said I was concerned."

"With how I was, I can understand why you went about things the way you did. I should've been upfront before we came."

She offers a sympathetic smile. "In the end, you were. We only have a day left, but please spend it however you want to."

"...I overheard you talking about a tea shop you saw."

She blinks. "You want to visit it?"

"I've run out of tea back in the barracks. Now would be a good time to stock up."

She huffs out a chuckle. "Even while on a break, you're always pragmatic."

"When else will I get a chance to buy some?"

"I suppose." She drops her sandals to the ground. "I should put these on before we go back to the others."

She lets go his hand to click her sandals back on.

His hand hovers in the air, and he knows he should put it back to his side. He'd done what he'd had to to lead them away from the sea. He's also never been one for physical contact beyond what was necessary in battle. But he didn't want to let go just yet.

With both of her shoes on, Momo straightens. "Do think they are at the bar by now?"

"Chances are."

He looks out to the road, lit by streetlights and lined with restaurants, bars, and closed shops. The weight within him is still there, but lighter. For the first time since he arrived, he thinks of somewhere he wants to go, with just her.

"I think I saw a takoyaki stall down there," he says, jerking his chin to the right. "Want to go eat before we join everyone else?"

Momo raises both eyebrows, but before he can ask why she reacted this way, she beams and takes his hand again. "Yeah, let's go."

#fanfiction #fanfiction 2023 #day 6 2023 #day 6

[hitsuhina-week]

something blue

Rating: K+

Synopsis: “How are you feeling, Hinamori?” he asked.

“I’m doing well! I’m enjoying the party!” she said cheerily, but even to her ears it felt a bit forced. She sighed and took another sip, avoiding her captain’s watchful eyes.

…

Amidst the dancing and drinks, Momo doesn't realize how overwhelmed she feels on Renjii's wedding day.

Word Count: 5590 words

Setting: the RenRuki wedding during We Do KNOT Love You!

Prompt: @hitsuhina-week Celebration 2023 Day 7 - Future

Authour’s Note: Welcome to my pasta-salad of a fic! Partly because I think I tried to put so much into this, culminating in my longest fic on tumblr and usurping i just called to say's position!

This is also RenRuki adjacent, so proceed how you would with that.

Similar to that fic, this is also INCREDIBLY LATE and I apologize for that! It also has several music inspirations going from Enchanted (Taylor's Version) & Back to December (Taylor's Version) to the tone of Billie Eilish's What was I Made For & my future—and I think that shows hahahaha

I hope you all enjoy it!

—

Momo was excited for the nijikai, the less formal wedding after party, because that’s where the night truly began.

Renjii had picked Daruma Bar, a familiar haunt of his that the lieutenants had visited many times after late meetings, long work weeks and happy hour celebrations. And maybe it was the romantic in Momo, but she was delighted that they were celebrating a new chapter for her friend in a place that was cemented in such fond memories.

The Bar’s decorations were less ostentatious than the engagement party and the Kuchiki ceremonial shrine. However, it warmed Momo’s heart to see Kuchiki-taicho act so openly benevolent towards his younger sister—something unusual for the typically aloof man.

There was a room at the back of the bar off the side kitchen, dedicated for the respective parties to get ready. It had doubled as storage and a changing space for the servers, leaving it cramped with boxes and a folding screen. To call it a room was generous but the larger formal one was rightfully reserved for Rukia to get ready. Momo had joined in on the groom’s side because she was much closer to Renjii—and, because she hadn’t gotten the chance to spend time alone with him.

“How do you feel, Abarai-kun?” Momo had asked as she took the groom’s outer robe from him, carefully folding it away. The garment had been a gift from Kuchiki-taicho who had it embellished with the Sixth Division symbol. Izuru and Ikkaku had gone with the human, Kurosaki, to look for the final additions to Renjii’s next outfit for the night, leaving Momo alone to help the groom get ready.

“I don’t know…normal—but not?” the tall man shrugged. “I’m not used to all this pomp and circumstance—especially everyone looking at me.”

Momo laughed as she handed Renjii the black suit bag—a custom tailoring from the Quincy boy.  “It’s your day Abarai-kun, everyone should be looking at you!”

His cheeks turned bright red, rivaling his hair. “I’ve had enough of it for a while.” Renjii moved behind the screen, and Momo turned her back around to give him further privacy as he removed the other layers. (Days spent in the Shinigami Academy had broken through any semblance of modesty when they had to quickly change between fitness courses and studies along with their overnight camps).

“How are you, Hinamori-kun?”

“Me?” Momo looked down at her hands as she played with the strings of her purse, fiddling with the knotted ends.

“No, the other girl in the room,” he scoffed loudly.

She rolled her eyes and threw a tie over her shoulder and screen, smiling in delight when she heard him yelp.

“You were pretty emotional at the engagement party—and now at the ceremony…I just wasn’t expecting you to cry so much.”

Momo smiled to herself— she had definitely cried her fair share of tears the last couple of days. But she’d shed them all again because they were happy tears. And she knows she wasn’t the only one to be overwhelmed by such a beautiful moment; for even the human girl, Orihime, had started crying so much so when Rukia walked down the aisle, the human couldn’t hold her camera straight. During the ceremony, Momo had sat with Rangiku and the other lieutenants, and was bawling as soon as she saw Renjii have his first glance at Rukia.

“I’m just so…happy for you,” Momo sniffled feeling an onslaught of tears come on. “Is that such a bad thing?” she asked as she could hear him chuckle behind the screen.

She couldn’t help it. Momo loved love and she loved that her dear friend had finally found his.

Momo remembered in the Academy, how Renjii has first come out as rough around the edges. It had been the first time she had met someone from one of the lower districts, and she didn’t quite know what to make of him—except that his eyebrows were quite strange.

But any reservations she may have initially had melted away when she saw his sincere heart and what a dedicated friend he was. From walking her back to her dorm after late night studying sessions to dropping off sweets before her advanced kido exam to sticking by her side when they were prematurely attacked by the hollow—Momo dearly wished that Renjii believed in himself like how he believed in his friends.

“How do I look?”

Momo turned around, and gasped. The taller man had left his hair loose, hanging long down his shoulders—making him look older and more debonair. And though the black formal suit was atypical garb for him, he somehow brought it all together with his usual black bandana. He looked good.

Renjii tugged at his collar, wincing in discomfort. “Is it too stuck up?”

The young girl shook her head and walked closer, taking the tie into her hands. “Abarai-kun, you are going to break a lot of hearts tonight.” She winked. “It’s a good thing you’re a married man.”

“You sound like Matsumoto—or Hisagi after a couple of drinks,” he chuckled in disbelief. “But you really think so? I don’t look out of place?” He joked casually, but Momo could detect something deeper.

“Abarai-kun,” she tightened the knot and looked up at him. “Do you feel like you don’t belong?”

He shrugged his shoulders so much that the ruby tie slipped out of her fingers. “It just feels like a lot—the ceremony, the wedding party. We knew we wanted to be together, but I didn’t expect it would become such a big event,” Renjii looked away to the side. “It’s all out of my comfort zone,” he confessed, twisting the ring on his finger.

She looked at him sympathetically. “I know you two have gone through a lot, Abarai-kun,” Momo reasoned softly, putting her hand on his arm, having him look down at her. “But I can say with absolute confidence that the two of you are the strongest and happiest when you two are together. This party—it just became something for everyone else to put their energy into having fun for one night.”

Momo smiled wholeheartedly. “And honestly I’m sure for Rukia-san, she doesn’t care for all these extravagances—she’d marry you even with paper rings.” She reached up to straighten out the wrinkles on his shoulder. “Again—I’m so happy for you.”

Renjii smiled and ruffled her hair, much to her protests. “Thanks, Hinamori-kun.” The taller man paused, like he was trying to uncover something on her face, but before Momo could ask, Ikkaku came barreling in with the human boy Kurosaki and Kira following suit.

“We found the corsage!” Ikkaku boomed, holding it up in victory.

“Byakuya had it expedited shipped from some out-there province—but wasn’t clear about which import hub it was located in,” the human boy said as he rolled his eyes.

...

Daruma Bar had transformed from the quaint backyard bar they knew into a bustling reception area. Tealights strung from the trees, hanging over a generous dance floor, already teeming with well-dressed officers. There were Kuchiki mansion staff seen around serving cocktail drinks while Hisagi was manning the DJ booth (a custom export from the human world), with an overeager Omaeda directing the spotlight.

Momo found herself ushered out onto the main floor, following the loud cheers of the groom party as the bridal party followed suit. Rukia was resplendent in a white cocktail dress, though she still wore her veil attached to the back of her head. There were tiny little strawberry flowers dotting the lining—which Rangiku had eagerly whispered into Momo’s ear during the ceremony that Orihime had personally embroidered as a gift.

It was only with the deafening cheer when the young couple satisfied the crowd with a kiss that the party truly started.

A dusk had descended on the day, with candles illuminating the tables and basking everyone in red orange hues. Momo could see many of her lieutenants around the tables, chatting and mingling, along with lower seated officers who were clinking glasses of beer together. There was a relaxed air, and she felt immediately at ease to see everyone unwind.  

Hisagi had blasted the music loudly, and only for the fact that it was an official Gotei Thirteen event (and that Kyoraku-soutaicho was enjoying a round of shots himself), Momo was sure they would have violated some noise pollution ordinances. But when Renjii pulled her onto the dance floor as a line dance came on, she couldn’t help herself but laugh out loud and try to follow along.

And Momo danced. In the group dances when the crowd swarmed to the floor, she jumped from side to side. When the music slowed to heartfelt ballads, she clutched onto Nanao’s shoulders, singing with her whole heart out.

During the brief moments of respite when she was taking a break with a drink in hand, she found her eyes drifting to the human group on the side.

The war had been long over, but there was still a wide berth around the Quincy boy, Uryuu, who stood off to the side chatting with the other tall human. Momo could see Orihime run over to them, trying to liven up the conversation and eagerly pointing to her plate of food. And in between the loud beats of music, she found herself thinking how the war had left invisible scars on all of them.

The music shifted to softer, mellow music and Momo eagerly took that as a cue to head over to the chef’s table. There were several cooks who were preparing popular street food from the different districts of Rukongai, such as taiyaki, grilled corn and okonomiyaki pancakes—many of which she knew were Renjii’s favourites. There was still the presence of Kuchiki-taicho’s influence in the decoration, from the ornate ice sculptures, exquisite flower bouquets among finger sized hors d’oeuvres and a slow roasted pigling on the split. 

Momo didn’t want to eat too much as she was keen to dance more without the heavy feeling of being full. So, she quickly took a bite of the taiyaki before walking over the newlywed couple who were in line with Kuchiki-taicho at the kabob stall.  

Renjii gestured forward with his meat skewer, holding it by the Sixth Captain’s face. “You have to try this, Taicho! It’s an Inuzuri special!”

Rukia nodded her head eagerly, the excitement sparkling in her violent eyes. “They marinate the meat with plums to help sweeten it.”

Momo had to laugh at the look at the sixth divison’s captain’s face—the only indication of displeasure was the slight downturn of his lips. He slowly took the skewer, inspecting it on all sides before lifting it up and taking the smallest bite Momo had ever seen. He chewed slowly, maintaining contact with the eager eyes of the bride & groom, before swallowing.

“It is…appropriate,” he sufficed, before dabbing his lips with a napkin.

...

The party continued in beat again, with no clear sign of stopping. Hisagi’s position of DJ had been usurped by one of the Shiba men, eager to grab the mic and direct the audience in line dances. After the ninth lieutenant had realized what happened, it was a loud battle where the music changed pace and tempo to their scramble, confusing the audience in between switching from easy going sways and fast jigs. The fight immediately ceased and desisted when the older Shiba came on stage and hit the two men both, stopping the bickering without any question. It was only when the music slowed to a soft classical tune, did Momo decide it was time to sit out for a bit after another long stint on the dance floor.

She walked up to her captain, who was leaning casually against one of the high tables, observing the party with his eyes straying down to his phone every so often. Though he looked relaxed, Momo knew him well enough to know that he was eagerly waiting for the vizards from the Human World to join—specifically a short blond woman.

A server walked by, and Momo quickly took a drink, shooting a generous smile at the staff in thanks.

“Go easy on the drinks,” Hirako mused with a smile tugging on his lips, “We still have work tomorrow.”

Her captain had eagerly taken the opportunity to dress in human clothes, wearing a dark pinstripe suit with silver tie. Momo had never seen him before so excited to dress up and he had taken many trips to the Human World to find the right outfit.

“Taicho, the suit looks quite good on you!” she remarked, leaning against the table with a champagne glass in her hands. Now that she had stopped dancing, she didn’t quite realize how much her feet were hurting. She sighed, inhaling the dusky air that was sweet and heavy with candle smoke.

“You also look good,” her captain remarked, holding his glass up in a cheers motion. “Matsumoto had fun with the makeup?”

Momo smiled in agreement as she played with her flower hair ornament. “She did a fantastic job!”

The two lieutenants had eagerly gone through the stores looking for appropriate kimonos to wear. And even though the older woman had more stamina than Momo in that respect, she enjoyed the shopping spree; especially when she finally settled on a light pink print with white printed flowers. Rangiku had helped her dress up and made sure to spend extra time on the younger girl’s makeup and hair before getting ready herself.

When Momo finally saw the look, light pink blush and soft red lips, she couldn’t stop staring at herself which filled her with greater anticipation for tonight.

“How are you feeling, Hinamori?” he asked.

“I’m doing well! I’m enjoying the party!” she said cheerily, but even to her ears it felt a bit forced. She sighed and took another sip, avoiding her captain’s watchful eyes.

Hirako took a long swig of his drink. “You’ve been crying a lot—I know you and Abarai are close friends…” he drifted off. “But is there nothing else going on?”

Momo swished the glass around, looking down. “I’m not sure,” she confessed. “I am happy for Abarai-kun—I truly am.”

The Fifth captain leveled her with a long stare. “Sometimes seeing other people happy can remind us of when we’re not,” he said simply.

Momo turned sharply towards him. “Do I seem unhappy?” she asked softly.

Hirako shook his head and looked at the last of the crowd dancing. “Not to everyone–no. But I think those that care can tell when there’s something deeper.”

“Hina-chan! Hirako-taicho!”

The two Fifth Squad guards looked towards Rangiku who was walking towards them with a skip in her step, dressed in a beautiful vibrant violet kimono with peony flowers.  In the low light, her blue eyes were twinkling, and the red candle flames highlighted her wavy golden hair. 

Following behind slowly was the tenth division captain, dressed in a simple dark grey kimono. While others had gone for extravagance or taken the opportunity to dress up, the simplicity of his outfit made the young boy stand out in the crowd. His turquoise eyes seemed brighter, and his white hair shined amongst all the candle lights. Momo could feel her heart race up (but she blamed it on the lightheaded feeling from the drinks).

“Hinamori-chan, you dance so well,” Rangiku remarked as she plucked a champagne glass from a passing server. She shot a flirtatious smile at the server, who scrambled away flustered, their cheeks a bright red. “I don’t think I’ve seen you take a break all night.”

“I’ve been having a lot of fun,” she laughed, moving forward and almost toppling over if it hadn’t been for her captain and Rangiku who grabbed a hold of her arms. “I’ll say,” Rangiku laughed. She turned behind her, beckoning her hand forward. “Taicho, take a photo of us!”

Momo looked to the young captain who looked like he was frozen in motion, with hands slightly reached out. They fell lamely to the side. He recomposed himself and sent a glare towards his lieutenant—but complied, holding up the camera in front of him.

The lighthearted smile Momo had tried to put on all evening felt strained and she could only hope it didn’t show as the flash went off.

“The Kuchiki’s really know how to throw a party,” Rangiku observed demurely, “they should do it more often.” She flipped her long hair as she scanned the crowd. “I think they’re going to be turning off the music soon.” The older woman turned to look at Momo with a devious smile. “Hina-chan—you should dance with Taicho.”

Her heart rate immediately jumped, and she found herself frantically waving her hands in front of her. “Oh no,” Momo looked back for support but found herself being pushed forward by her captain, who was sporting a smug smile. “C’mon, it’ll be good for you,” he said with a final nudge.

A similar look was mirrored over with Rangiku who was pushing a protesting Toushiro towards the middle of the dance floor, a knowing glint in her eyes. “Taicho, hasn’t stepped on the dance floor at all tonight!” She agilely grabbed the camera out of his hands.

“Matsumoto!” Toushiro turned to yell at his vice-captain who quickly made herself scarce from the scene. He turned slowly to look at Momo as dancers passed by around them.

He cleared his throat. “Hinamori, we don’t have to do this.”

She could only mutely nod her head shortly, as she realized that this was the first time, they had spoken outside of work to each other after the recovery period.

The crowd continued to move around the two of them undeterred. Swaths of maroon, blue, purple flashed around her, but she could only look down at her feet. The music slowed down in pace, and a loud cheering occurred across the floor, with Renjii and Rukia making it onto the floor before holding onto each other like they had all the time in the world—which made Momo’s heart clench.

Momo could hear Toushiro sigh softly before she saw two feet approach her.

She turned to look up and he was too close, much too close. She forgot to breathe as she looked up and counted the flecks of sapphire in his eyes.

“Can I,” he asked softly, a sense of trepidation in his voice.

She jerked her head down and felt her heart rate quicken as he took her hands in his—which were several degrees colder than hers but grounded her in a reality that too many earlier drinks had lifted her from.

“Just humour them for one song…” he whispered.

It was an awkward start with Toushiro guiding Momo’s hand to his shoulder before moving behind to hold her shoulder blade. She had to swallow a gasp as she could feel the cold move dangerously close to the scar in her back, making her breath quicken.

And she didn’t know if it was cruel fate or not, but the music had slowed done to a pace that only in twos could one traverse. Out of the corner in her eyes, she saw her subordinates holding onto each other, with easy-going smiles as they swayed in comfort.

Momo stared straight at the side of his neck, trying to avoid all eye contact as they moved from one side to the other. She was too aware of his white hair tickling her cheek and the cool exhale of his breath on her collarbone.

This was too close too close. It was the closest they had been to each other in five years.

They had spent three years after the Quincy War dancing around the divide between them. Prior to that, Momo could only focus on her personal recovery after the Winter War as well as adjusting to her new captain. Toushiro had always seemed to be there on the periphery, flitting in and out of her consciousness.

He had apologized to her for what happened in the Fake Karakura town. She had profusely apologized in retaliation — no it wasn’t his fault, she shouldn’t have been there, she hardly remembered it, they were all foolishly tricked. (But that doesn’t stop the cold tremors she feels whenever she sees Hyourinmaru).

The young boy had stood there, silent and listening, but Momo could see the winter storm in his eyes, obscuring the shame that he had still felt whenever he got a glimpse of her scar through the Fourth Division robes. She had clutched the fabric tighter to her heart, where ice had barely missed, unable to meet his gaze. Even though she set the fissures off first, it was his sword that had swung the final blow in the demise of their crumbling relationship.

And she knows that he knows she feels that way because he had stepped aside, adamantly training in isolation to be stronger (at least according to her usual queries to Rangiku). And what could she do, except also turn around and try to move forward as a lieutenant of the Gotei 13.

For as much as she hated to admit it, they were not the same as before. Now they were just small talk and shallow inquiries about the weather, during the brief exchanges between captain and lieutenant meetings.

Momo wishes with all her heart that they could go back to who they were; where she could rush to him on the good days, a whole plate of watermelon in between them and see his eyes light up in excitement; or seek him out in the bad days when she desperately wanted to her hear his calm and rational reasoning, that soothed her like a cool breeze in the summer.

“How are you, Hinamori?”

Momo startled, looking to the right at him, but any closer and her lips would be on his neck.

“I’m good,” she responded quickly, inwardly grimacing at how high her voice sounded. “Hirako-taicho and I were excited to finish work two hours earlier so we could get ready. I had made sure we had finished all our reports for the day for approval, but it was nice to have an official announcement that work could be done earlier,” she rambled.

Toushiro raised an eyebrow, as if he didn’t quite believe her.

“Isn’t Hirako supposed to be one that handed those in?”

“Hirako-taicho,” Momo corrected, “He had done it the previous time but since I was meeting Rangiku-san and Nanao-san to get ready, we thought it best that I hand in the reports since it was on the way to the First Division.”

He hummed in agreement, before it became silent again. They turned around to avoid another couple who had swept a little too close. Momo found herself looking for Rukia and Renjii to distract herself from the awkwardness. The two were glued to each other, with Rukia staring up at her husband, the adoration evident in her eyes. She stood on her toes to which Renjii responded by lifting her higher. The young woman whispered something in his ear to which the red-haired man looked at her with wide surprised eyes before spinning her around as she laughed.

The two of them were out of step with the song but perfectly attuned to each other.   

Momo’s heart ached and a heavy weight settled in the pit of her stomach.

She looked down at the corner of his neck and shoulder. “Are you enjoying the wedding?”

He rolled his eyes. “I’ve been designated to photograph duty.”

“At least you’re part of the moments?” she tried to salvage.

“Not really,” the boy scoffed.

There was an awkward turn and Momo turned too quickly, tripping over her feet and bumped her chin into his shoulder. She mumbled an apology, not before she got an inhale of his scent which sent her mind into scrambles.

Momo pulled back to face him. “Did I hurt you?”

His emerald eyes went wide. A pause. The boy took a deep breath and leveled her with an intense gaze. “You could never hurt me, Hinamori.”

She stopped moving with Toushiro following suit. Everyone continued around spinning and laughing, while the music went up in crescendo.

“That’s not true at all…” Momo said distantly, shaking her head.

A loud bang startled her into moving closer to him, and she could feel him tighten his hold on her. Loud bursts of fireworks went off above them and the sky illuminated with bright vibrant streaks of colour.

All of a sudden, Momo noticed people looking at her with hopeful smiles and knowing looks, which made her chest tighten. And the cold on her back and her hand slowly felt like a vice that she couldn’t get out quickly enough.

“I’m sorry, Hitsugaya-taicho I have to leave,” Momo sputtered out right as the final note dropped, before running off the floor. Fireworks continued to crackle as she pushed past the dancing bodies, desperate to get as far away as she could. All the excitement that had made her feel before like she was floating on a cloud disappeared, leaving her with deep intense dread inside. 

A hand reached out and grabbed her arm, and she was pulled off the dance floor. Momo startled as Ikkaku thrust a shot glass into her face.

“C’mon, Hinamori—it’s the last shots of the night!”

The groom’s party had gathered around, with several bottles already empty in between them all.  Kira looked completely out of it, stumbling forward, and clutching onto Renjii with a dazed look in his eyes. The human boy wasn’t too far behind, his face mirroring the fruit he was named after. Ikkaku still seemed bright and alert as he poured the alcohol into her glass.

“Hinamori, you don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Renjii reasoned, trying to push off Kira so he could come towards her. She recognized that look of concern, it was his big brother mode when he saw she was teetering on the edge of anxiety.

Momo, determined not to make a bigger fool of herself and ruin her friend’s special day, took the shot lifted out towards her.

“To the Abarai’s!”

And she threw back the drinks, the liquid burning down her throat.  The rest of the guys hollered loudly, rivaling the sound of the fireworks. And they didn’t stop there, continuing to chase one drink after the other until Momo’s head pounded like the fireworks.

--

In front ofDaruma Bar there was a large pond and several benches for guests to sober up on. Amid the final throws of excitement, Momo had hobbled alone out of the bar before throwing up in the bushes by the water. And even through the motions, she found herself thinking—that in no way was she getting her kimono stained—and that she was grateful there was no one to witness this embarrassment.

A cool cloth appeared in the peripheral of her vision, and she was too tired to not accept it.

“How much did you eat today?” Toushiro asked sternly as he hovered over her. She startled belatedly and threw a fatigued look over her shoulder.

“Not enough,” Momo heaved. When she was finally done coughing, she collapsed on the bench in exhaustion—feeling spent and drained.

The tenth captain stood a distance, in that quiet way Momo knew he reserved for battle, figuring out his first move.

Momo wiped her forehead and her mouth, looking down at the lipstick smears on the cloth. She sniffled, feeling despondent.

The war was over. They had fought, had shed blood, had lost men—but they had won. And though it was a quiet victory, with reconstruction looming as a herculean hill to climb, they all pressed on.People were having fun, becoming stronger, moving on. This party was just one moment of many future beginnings, a dynamic turn of high energy and excitement for what was ahead— and yet, Momo still felt caught in the past somehow.

Momo knew in the deepest of her hearts, that Renjii deserved this night. She had remembered it all too well, the pain on his face when Rukia had entered the Kuchiki household, leaving him at the Academy broken-hearted. He had fought tooth and nail and truly defied the odds when no one had believed him.

But, now sitting in the aftermath of the party, Momo was hit with the sobering thought that she was pitifully jealous of Renjii. Jealous that he had a new future to look forward to with someone he cared deeply for. Momo was nowhere near where he was, hell—she wasn’t even on proper speaking terms with one of her oldest friends.

Momo sobbed, furiously rubbing her eyes with her kimono sleeves. “Do…do you think—we’ll ever be like that?”

Toushiro sighed, knowing that Momo’s tolerance how gone past reason.

“We never stopped being friends, Hinamori.”

“But we don’t talk anymore,” she wailed tearfully, feeling fresh tears come down her face. It was bothering her now how sticky her cheeks were becoming, considering the amount of time Rangiku had spent on her makeup—which made her feel even more pitiful. “Do you hate me, Hitsugaya-kun?”

He stood there uncomfortably, as if trying to find the right words. “Hinamori I never…hated you.” Toushiro let out a long exhale as he sat on the far end of the bench. “I just wanted to give you space.”

“Are you sure? Because I don’t know what we are,” she bemoaned, gesturing her hands in between them. “But I do know,” Momo sniffled loudly. “we’re not the same as before.”

“No…no we’re not,” Toushiro said simply, looking at the moon’s reflection in the water. Momo could see that even though his hair seemed bright like the white light, there was a dullness in his eyes. 

“I thought training would be the solution, to get stronger and let you be on your own.” He kicked a loose pebble into the pond. “But that wasn’t the only right answer.”

Toushiro turned to her, and solemnly said, “You didn’t deserve that.”

Momo hiccupped and looked up at him with teary eyes. “…You’re not mad at me?”

He furrowed his eyebrows, shaking his head in confusion. “Why would you blame yourself for everything?”

“Well, I started this all—this rift,” Momo drew a line in between them, tracing her finger on the stone bench. She looked up at him with doleful eyes. “I’m sorry, Shiro-chan—for all of it. I don’t think I can ever apologize enough.”

 The boy looked down at the space in between them pensively. “And for every apology you give, instead of pulling away,” he shifted himself over until he was halfway over the bench, “I’ll move closer.”

Her brown eyes widened, before she smiled, scooting closer to him, until they were side by side. Momo grabbed his hand in her’s, holding them up high in between them. “And for every time you feel like you want to pull away, I won’t let you.”

Toushiro noted objectively. “I think we’ve come to a standstill.”

She laughed as she wiped the tears off her cheeks, “That the Hitsugaya-kun I miss. You always know exactly what to say.”

They stayed in silence, listening to the last sounds of the party as it wrapped up. Finally, Toushiro pushed himself off the bench and turned to the teary girl. “Come on, let’s go home.”

At the thought of getting up, Momo immediately deflated with the pent-up fatigue from the party. “My feet are killing me,” she whimpered, quickly trying to kick off her heeled shoes. The brown-haired girl stuck out her bottom lip in contemplation.

“Can you carry me, Hitsugaya-kun?” she asked quietly, as if she were afraid to shatter the moment.

The tenth captain raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to remember this in the morning?” he asked dubiously.

Momo whined, her voice raising in pitch. “C’mon—I used to do it all the time for you when you got hurt.”

Toushiro rolled his eyes, before turning around and bending down. There was a moment of awkward fumbling as Momo eagerly climbed onto his back. She clutched her arms around his neck and leaned her cheek down next to his as he stood up.

“You’re so strong Shiro-chan…” Momo pulled back a hand to smooth the wrinkles of his kimono. “Like obviously your shoulders are a lot wider now,” she observed. “But I didn’t know you were this strong.”

Momo yelped as he shifted her with a jolt, making her knock her chin on the back of his head. “That was mean, Shiro-chan,” she said though she could feel her heart racing as he chuckled. “That’s what you get for making comments like that,” he responded dryly, though she could hear the slight smile in his voice.

The girl tightened her arms around him again, swinging her feet back and forth. “You’re a lot funnier than people take you for, Shiro-chan.”

“It’s a secret I try not to share,” he responded to which Momo laughed out loud. 

She snuggled closer into his back, relishing how secure she felt as he carried her away from the bar. “Shiro-chan…we’re friends again, right?” she mumbled softly.

Toushiro scoffed, feeling her doze into his shoulder. “Yeah…we’re friends.”

Momo fell asleep with a smile on her face, feeling more at ease than she had ever been before.

—

Author's Notes: You know the stressful thing about writing about a wedding party? It's almost like you're planning it!! Is there enough ice for the drinks? IS everyone dancing? What kind of music do they need? Who's going to be the wedding crasher? What are the decorations? How can I show that Byakuya has no chill and spares no expense in anyway he can? Where's the food??? IS EVERYONE HAVING FUN??

This was one of my first times writing Renjii and of course I have to do it during his wedding day but oh well. I would really love to write more about him and Momo's friendship together, and I thought it was a perfect place for Momo to compare herself in what she has and lacks since they both came from similar relationships to their childhood friends.

I think my trend has also to leave the Hitsuhina moments until the very end and then flourish the beginning immensely with self reflections and them talking to everyone BUT each other (which results in much longer fics)

#day 7 #fanfiction #day 7 2023 #fanfiction 2023

[hitsuhina-week]

Hitsuhina Week 2023 - Day 7: Future / Fairy tales

Rating: T

Summary: The Women’s Association run a special article 😏

AN: Originally posted on AO3. I probably had about 20 half-baked ideas for today but didn’t get very far into writing them. So probably just going to share some of my already posted stories.

————————–

There had once been a time when the Soul Reaper Women’s Association had been one of the best funded and most influential organizations in the entirety of the Seireitei. But after the end of the Quincy War, much of their power had diminished greatly. The funds that had once been designated for the group had to be reinvested towards repairs and the time the members once reserved for the various activities they sponsored, had been redirected to be more usefully spent supporting the reconstruction efforts. The meeting room hidden in the Kuchiki Manor, which had been the group’s favorite headquarters, was left for dust to slowly build up where lively meetings and laughter had once persisted.

For four years the Seireitei remained in a state of limbo waiting to see what sort of enemy would emerge. For four years they worked tirelessly on rebuilding their strength and repairing their world that had been nearly destroyed by the Quincies. But now it felt as though there was true calm and peace in the Seireitei and it was time to take care of the smaller things that they had all but forgotten about. Central 46 and the bodies that be had loosened the strict budgeting that had been in place and now allocations allowed for spending towards groups and clubs once again. The Seireitei Bulletin was the first to be green lit, releasing the news through their New Years Edition and calling for new and old article writers to submit their work for the next edition. The Women’s Association jumped at the chance and were among the first to be allotted a two page spread for the next release.

Keep reading

#day 7 #day 7 2023 #fanfiction #fanfiction 2023

[hitsuhina-week]

Hitsuhina Week 2023 - Day 6: Something Beautiful/ Waves

Rating: K

Summary: Rangiku spies on Toshiro and Momo and comes to a realization

————————–

She really should be working. For the past few weeks her Captain had been pestering her more than usual about her tendency to hide the stacks of paperwork around the office or slip them into his own workload when he wasn’t looking. Normally, she could get away with it, receiving little more than a harsh scolding, or the rare case of mild frostbite. It was how things had always been between them. Rangiku would slack on her responsibilities, and her Captain would do his utmost to get her to take her job more seriously. It never worked. After all, why should she waste her days away doing paperwork when she knows her oh so diligent Captain will do it anyway? But recently that hasn’t been the case. Rangiku would show up to the office (late as usual) to find the place empty.

It wasn’t like him. For as long as he’d been an officer, he’d always been on time, if not early to the office. He’d stay late to make sure all the paperwork was in order, and rarely took any time off unless it was to visit his Granny. At first, she thought maybe he was just running late but as the hour ticked by, she started to worry. Maybe the old lady had fallen ill and her Captain had gone to take care of her. But, he would have told someone, wouldn’t he? Rangiku had sat at the desk for well over an hour, pen tapping against the wooden surface, and the pile of reports, and forms looming in the left corner, growing steadily every fifteen minutes or so. She hated paperwork. And the lure of mystery surrounding her missing Captain was much too distracting for her to be productive. Inevitably, curiosity had quickly gotten the better of her. It hadn’t taken long for her to find him. And as the weeks passed, and his absences became more frequent, she began to put the pieces together.

Keep reading

#day 6 2023 #day 6 #fanfiction #fanfiction 2023

[hitsuhina-week]

REVERSE THE BONE - PART 2

Timeline: less than 49 days after the Thousand-Year Blood War Characters: Hinamori (POV), Hitsugaya; 89 of the Gotei’s finest Word Count: ~20,000 (Part 2 of 2) // ~31k total

Summary:

A certain degree of lunacy is expected of all officers in the Gotei 13, and rumor has it Captain Hitsugaya has finally grown into his. At least, that’s the only explanation for why he’s agreed to take the East Rukongai Trash Job. ...Officially it’s called the East Rukongai Train Job. But Hinamori’s not buying it, and she is going to get to the bottom of this. Two tickets to ride on the East Rukongai Soul Train, packed to the brim with the Seireitei’s old and broken things—and a secret (or two) that is not listed on the manifest. AKA what passes for Rukongai pleasure tourism. AKA how to survive the war after the war. AKA the things you fall in love with won't be what you think.

On AO3: [Start from the beginning | Start from Part 2]

Written for @hitsuhina-week July 2023 | DAY 5: "I could go anywhere with you" (AND BOY DID THEY)

--

I finished it! I am really, really proud of this and also very scared. If you enjoy the zany sights and sounds of Soul Society's many subcultures and also enjoy reading about various forms of S-tier Gotei bullshit (and Hinamori and Hitsugaya both resisting and perpetrating S-tier Gotei bullshit), you might enjoy this.

Also there's trains. Well, there's one train, but it's a very big deal. And hot springs! And beaches!

[And because I'm curious: Did anyone try out the QR code on the ticket ahahaha]

#day 5 #day 5 2023 #fanfiction #fanfiction 2023

[hitsuhina-week]

Downpour

Hitsuhina Week 2023 - Day 4: Back to Back / I'm Sorry

Prompts: I'm sorry, downpour, [accidental] love confession

Rating: K

Setting: A few decades after the end of BLEACH

Synopsis: Is this how things are now? She clutches the umbrella tighter. How long is she going to keep her distance from him? Until he comes to her? Until she plucks up the courage to speak with him?

AN: oh no, I'm already running late with submisisons! XD

I decided to create something for Hitsuhina Week and for @yearoftheotpevent's challenge. In the end, I got a fic that I feel is a little out of my ball park but I still enjoyed writing! I hope you all enjoy it just as much!

______________________________________

Momo rushes between market stalls and shops on the way back to her division. The rain had started a few minutes ago, and although gentle now, she guesses by the darker clouds in the east a downpour is coming.

The Rukongai residents are also rushing about, but some have a moment to look at her umbrella in bewilderment, likely thinking they’d never seen any parasol like it before. It had been a very unusual gift from Shinji on White Day, but is now proving to be useful.

She reaches the gates surrounding the Seireitei five minutes later. Passing through them, she almost laughs at the irony of where she is. If she takes the shorter route back to the Fifth Division, she’ll be passing the Tenth Division. She didn't like how quickly the clouds are creeping across to the Seireitei, and she decides to risk it.

She comes across the occasional Shinigami rushing back to their barracks, one of which she manages to say a quick greeting to as they run past each other and laugh at their predicament.

The insignia of the Tenth division looms in the distance, painting on to the main barracks and standing tall above most of the buildings surrounding it.

As if it were a sign, she slows her steps to a stop at a crossroad when she senses Toshiro reiatsu. Whisps of it radiate from around the corner. He’s just outside of the of his division, it'd less than a minute before he reaches the main gate's entrance. Knowing him, he’s been out training and was taking his time returning to the division.

She has no doubt he’s sensed her too, but she knows why he hasn’t made a move to come and find her.

She winces at the thought of what happened just over a week ago. Her mind was hazy with a fever, and she’d been visited by Rangiku and Toshiro. Eventually, Rangiku left, and Momo stops the memory there. Despite the state of her mind, she remembers the next part too vividly, and if she goes any further, she might just die from embarrassment.

She shakes her head. Things can’t keep going on like this. Her heart starts to race at the thought. Is she really going to do this right now? The rain never bothers him, but she wants to get out of it as soon as possible. Still…

Forcing out a long exhale, she peaks around the corner with a stealth she normally reserves for missions. To her relief, his back is turned to her. He walks away from her in at a slow pace, his footsteps barely heard above the rain hitting the ground and roof tiles.

He may have sensed her, but she can still walk away, take a slightly longer route and avoid what will inevitably an awkward encounter. Now isn’t the right time, not in weather like this. She straightens and begins to walk with quiet steps to pass him. She only has to make seven strides and she’ll be out of sight. He won’t look over his shoulder, not if he wants to risk capturing her gaze. And if he is looking at her right now, she doesn’t see it, her gaze focused straight ahead.

 She’ll be back at her division in ten minutes, and this encounter will never happen.

Is this how things are now? She clutches the umbrella tighter. How long is she going to keep her distance from him? Until he comes to her? Until she plucks up the courage to speak with him?

Despite herself, she stops out in the open. Slowly, she turns her head to him. He has to know she’s there, but he hasn’t looked back. And there’s something about the seeing him walk so slowly away. Is he giving her space? Or does he not want to talk with her?

He always puts others first, even if means he’s alone.

Her heartaches. How can I keep doing this?

She pivots and rushes to him. Her footsteps smack wetly against the pavement and make small splashes.  She fights against the apprehension trying to tighten her throat and calls out, “Shiro-chan, wait!”

Toshiro flinches, perhas in deep thought before she called out. He comes to a stop and looks over his shoulder, eyes wide. “Hinamori?”

As she nears, she slows to a walk and tips the umbrella to come over his head. She hasn’t planned anything to say, so she blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. “You should stick to shelter, you might catch a cold.”

His usual expression returns. She can sense an eye roll, but he instead turns his gaze off to the side. “It doesn’t bother me.”

Not even a reprimand for calling him ‘Shiro-chan’; somehow, that disheartens her. “I-I know…I guess I --”

The rain buckets down over them, slapping against the ground and soaking their tabi, waraji, and the hems of their hakama. Momo gasps from the cold and almost loses her grip on the umbrella. She looks up at the sky in astonishment. “It happened so fast!”

Toshiro doesn’t appear all too surprised by the sudden change, but his eyes are back on her. For a second, she’s taken back to that moment two weeks ago, to the concern he showed while he replaced the cloth over heated forehead with a fresh one; one that was much colder than the last, and it was because of him. She always…

She shakes her head. This isn’t the time!

She resists the old childhood habit of grabbing his wrist and taking him to nearest shelter; he always had the choice to shake her off, but he never did.

Instead, she gestures to and takes a few steps towards a nearby awning. “Come on, let’s take cover until it passes.”

_____________________________________

The rain turns into a downpour, thumping against the roof and sweeping the autumn leads from view. The sheets come down so thick it’s hard to make out what’s a few meters in front of them. For Momo it’s soothing, and it’s perhaps the reason she’s able to stand next to Toshiro right now without the awkwardness that has a norm for her.

She glances over at him. They’ve been standing here for more than five minutes without a word spoken between them. With the exception of how tightly his arms are folded into his sleeves, he looks otherwise unbothered. His gaze is soft, focused on the rain. He’d hesitated to join her under the shelter, but eventually same to stand next to her – albeit with a gap between them.

This feels so unnatural for them, but she instigated this, and she’ll see it through somehow.

“I haven’t seen rain like this in years,” she says.

She almost regrets breaking the silence, feeling she had disturbed the tranquility Toshiro had engulfed himself in.

Momo lets her nerves get the better of her and she rambles, “I guess you would’ve sensed it this morning, huh? With your powers to detect the weather, I mean.”

He shrugs flatly with a sniff. “I didn’t really notice it.”

Her shoulders fall at his indifference. “I’m sorry for making you sick. Rangiku-san told me you had a fever for a few days.”

“Don’t be, it might not have even been because of you.”

She clenches her fist and bows her head to him. “I’m also sorry I didn’t visit you. You came to see me, afterall.”

“It’s fine, as lieutenant you have to focus on your work first.”

Why did that hurt? Was it because of the matter-of-fact tone of his voice? The fact he brushed it off?

 She purses her lips as she raises her head. “And I’m sorry about what I said, too.”

Finally, a crack in his demeanor. Even though it hadn’t been her goal, she can’t help but be a little relieved when his frown twitches, the corners of his lips tighten, and his eyes widen.

Still, she now has the awkwardness of bringing it up.

“I-I don’t know what I was thinking, it just came out,” she rambles on. “I was really sick and didn’t really know what I was saying. If you had the same fever as me, then you know how addled your mind could get.”

Still nothing from him, just a wide, unblinking stare. Rain drops that had been stuck to his face run down the sides and fall of his jaw. A spike of hair flops to one side. Still, he says nothing.

Was he remembering that moment?

It comes to her. She watched him as he faintly smile when she got him to get her sketchbook to show him her latest works. He’d recently started caring about her hobbies, would ask questions about them every now then – what book she was currently reading, what she had drawn recently.

Something about that moment, the way the sun came filtering through her window and dousing him in golden light. It highlighted his eyes to a bright blue. She’d always loved his eyes, never able to name the shade of blue-green they were.

Fatigue had started to set in, and he’d replaced the cloth on her forehead. He was standing to go. She didn’t want him to go just yet. They hardly saw each other these days. And she always loved his kindness, it felt like a side of him only she and a few others got to see upfront and unguarded.

She was tired, and her mind a haze. It slipped out, and despite how raspy her voice was, it was clear to both of them.

I love you.

For a instant, she’d thought she’d only said it to herself, but at his shocked expression, she knew he heard. The air around them had been shattered, once warm and comforting, to something disorientating, as if the world had tilted on it’s axis. Her face aflame, she tried to take her words back, but he stuttered something out, and left.

He has that same shock and disbelief right now, and all she wants is to pretend her words weren’t real. She doesn’t blame him, she can’t believe confessed something so heartful and bold accidentally. Her confession had been unintentional, but what she’d uttered was the truth, and he deserved to know now.

“…The truth is, I’d hoped to tell you another time. I’m not exactly sure when that would’ve been, but…I meant what I said. It’s how I feel.”

His frown returns, and he blinks. There’s a subtle shake of his head.

Her heart clenches. She doesn’t know when, but at some point, she’d hoped he felt the same way. A small part was even sure that he did when she reflected on how he’d been acting towards her last few decades – he smiled and laughed more, remembered her birthday and gave her gifts, and even made her ice roses for White Day several years in a row. But now she’s sure she’d misinterpreted everything.

“It’s all right if you don’t feel the same way.” I can live with it, she tells herself. And somehow, she knows deep down she could. It would take a while, but she’s certain she can put these feelings aside and come to see him as just a friend again. Surely she could, she’d done it before for others…

But the thought of doing that makes her want to cry. She bites the inside of her lip. This was a bad idea. What was she thinking? She’d let her nerves and worry get the better of her. She wants to be mad at him, for keeping his distance and for not saying thing, but she can only be angry at herself.

She bows to him. “I-I’m so sorry, this was a bad time to talk about it. I should’ve given more thought to this before I came and spoke to you. P-Please forget that this happened.”

She feels like a child, running away from her problems when they become too big and nebulous. She can’t stop the fresh have of embarrassment, and tears mist in her eyes. She starts to reopen her umbrella and step out from under the awning.

“Wait.” His voice comes out urgent. Momo keeps her gaze on the ground and her grip on the umbrella tight. For several seconds, all she can hear is her heart beating in her ears.

Toshiro looks alarmed, his hand even reaching out to her. As if just realizing this, he quickly draws it back to his side and his expression softens. “It’s not what you think.” He tries to school his expression to his usual stoicism, but he fails. “I’m sorry for leaving things that way. I just…didn’t expect it.” He swallows. “Any of it.”

She frowns, and with some hesitation, asks, “What do you mean?”

He doesn’t answer, and she knows he’s trying to find the right words. He might be more expressive than he used to be, but he still struggled to articulate how he felt sometimes. A part of her screams to just run away, because what he has to say may just cause her more humiliation or break her heart.

But she hasn’t come this far, today or to this point in her life, to run away from his side because of this. So she closes the umbrella again and returns to his side, closer than before, and waits.

Eventually, he sighs. “I never expected you to…feel that way. I don’t understand how you can feel that way. I don’t understand why me.”

Momo can’t help but tilt her head to one side. “Huh?”

Her confusion baffles him. “Don’t make me explain! It’s already -”

“I’m sorry, but, well…why not you?”

He’s stunned, opening and closing his mouth, trying to say something but has been left speechless. Eventually he shakes his head. “I always thought you would be someone else.”

Clearly he didn’t want to answer the question, but the look on his face tells her everything she needs to know. He never saw her being with someone like him; he saw her with someone like herself. She knows he takes pride in being punctual and organised, it’s perhaps the only positive traits he’s aware he has. Still, even after all these years, he can’t see the kindness he possess, or the thoughtfulness he displayed when she was vulnerable. He doesn’t see the way be contemplates things and takes his time to find the right words so he doesn’t come across as brutally honest. He doesn’t see the selflessness he shows in the smallest ways; where once he put other before himself because he thought another’s life was worth more than his, it’s now a virtue to him.

He's the constant, a throughline in her life, and she has seen him change and grow, just as he has with her. He’s seen her at her ugliest and most raw, and he never ran away. He stayed, he cared, and she loves him for that and so much more.

She could tell him all of this, compliment and reassure him until her voice disappears, but if he doesn’t believe it himself, it won’t do either of them good. No, now she just needs to keep it simple.

She smiles despite the rising embarrassment. “I l-like you because you’re you, Hitsugaya-kun.” Not as bold as her initial confession, but still true all the same.

If not for how serious this situation turned out to be, she would’ve teased him for the blush that colours his cheeks and the way his lips purse as if he’s tasted a lemon. He looks away and says something under his breath she doesn’t hear.

As the seconds tick by, she can’t ignore the building dread. “This changes things between us.”

Her words snap him out of his embarrassment, with his eyes becoming half hooded and a sigh deflating his shoulders. It takes him a while to calm his expression, but the blush still remains. "It doesn't."

She could weep in relief, but she manages to keep her composure. She goes to speak, to reaffirm that he doesn’t have to feel the same way – because knowing he avoided her more because he didn’t understand and not entirely because of her feelings calmed her – but his gaze stops her.

His eyes are soft and steely at the same time, tender and determined. He always has a lot going on under the surface, and she feels privileged to be one of the few who gets to see him look like this.

She desperately wants to ask if this mean he felt the same way as her, but maybe now is not the time. She's exhausted from the emotional highs, and he always takes the time to express himself.

With her free hand, she reaches for his. Her fingers almost brush again his, but he closes the gap between them. His hold is loose and his hand is freezing from his reiatsu and the raindrops still clinging to it. The steeliness leaves his gaze, and he's vulnerable for a second, almost looking unsure. Do you really feel that way? he asks without saying it aloud.

She squeezes his hand and watches the downpour with him. His hold tightens. Again, she can almost cry.

For now, it’s enough.

#fanfiction #day 4 #day 4 2023 #fanfiction 2023

[hitsuhina-week]

Hitsuhina Week 2023 - Day 5: I Could Go Anywhere With You/ Night

Rating: T

Summary: Momo returns from a mission. Toshiro takes care of her.

————————–

ight had fallen hours ago by the time she returned through the senkaimon. It had been a longer trip than she’d originally been told but tired as she was, Momo found the energy to flash step the rest of the way home. A hiss, and the scraping of wood had her wincing as she froze for a moment. Her senses were still highly sensitive from battle as she listened for any sign of disrupting the sleep of the occupants of the house. The stillness of the night, and the quiet brought a calm to her as she rubbed at her toe that she’d stubbed on the accent table before silently returning it to it’s proper place and a bit farther back so it can’t hurt any more toes. On silent feet, she closed the door and locked it and began the slow walk further into the house.

Exhaustion was beginning to set in as she felt her gate lose its fluidity and limped slightly. Her injuries weren’t as bad as they could have been. The ill-made arrancar she’d encountered hadn’t been nearly as strong as the ones she’d faced decades ago when Aizen had raised an army of them. But she’d been caught off guard. A swarm of hollows had been terrorizing the souls of Kyoto for weeks and the intelligence she’d arrived with had made no mention of an arrancar among the hollow’s numbers. The result had been the numerous yet, non-life threatening injuries that were littered across her body.

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#fanfiction #fanfiction 2023 #day 5 #day 5 2023

[hitsuhina-week]

REVERSE THE BONE - PART 1

Timeline: less than 49 days after the Thousand-Year Blood War Characters: Hinamori (POV), Hitsugaya; 89 of the Gotei’s finest Word Count: 11, 789 (Part 1 of 2) // ~30k total

Summary: A certain degree of lunacy is expected of all officers in the Gotei 13, and rumor has it Captain Hitsugaya has finally grown into his. At least, that’s the only explanation for why he’s agreed to take the East Rukongai Trash Job. Well, officially it’s called the East Rukongai Train Job.

Hinamori’s not buying it, and she is going to get to the bottom of this. Two tickets to ride on the East Rukongai Soul Train, packed to the brim with the Seireitei’s old and broken things—and a secret (or two) that is not listed on the manifest.

[Read on AO3]

Written for @hitsuhina-week July 2023 | DAY 5: "I could go anywhere with you"!

NB: Please know that two versions ago, this fic was titled 'Hinamori had never seen such a mess.' While the statement is still true, Thomas the Tank Engine did not vibematch the story Hinamori ended up telling, so I had to change it. I am devastated by this.

PLEASE enjoy the train ticket. After the Atrocieties of an earlier version of this fic I was like, "Well, I can't not write it. I made tickets!" and that is essentially why I kept trying to write this fic. I love the tickets.

#day 5 #day 2023 #fanfiction #fanfiction 2023