#a lil renruki and ginran

[soybeanprophecy]

is it ridiculous?

notes: i have no idea, inspired by the perfect man by cutecrazyice (a sasusaku fic from like 2011 lmao). also do not know if i can write this well lmao i am trying my best hahahahH disclaimer: definitely do not own bleach. when are they animating the last arc!!!!??? also au! excited for the new chapter tho!!! also this was written for hitsuhina week 2021 this year but honestly it's so late and i'm not even entirely sure which theme it was supposed to fit (au and mutual pining??) so i am very sorry!! i hope you enjoy this cheesy-ass fic and i hope its not too long and too much of a mess. i apologize in advance lmao

Summary: Hinamori Momo first meets Hitsugaya Toshiro on the playground at the tender young age of six. They go on to become inseparable, meaningful, and essential to each other—childhood friends that were, are, and will be people who belong together for the rest of this lifetime and beyond.

Link for those who like using ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33041425 

-------

Hinamori Momo first meets Hitsugaya Toshiro at the tender age of six on the playground in the local neighborhood. She had been grasping the handle of her bucket firmly, brows furrowed, determined to build a castle in the sandbox, when a blur of white to her left suddenly catches her attention.

“The swings!” A boy yells as he runs past her. He has white hair, and Momo can’t help but gasp in disbelief. She has never seen a person with that color hair before.

He immediately skids to a halt, whipping around to glare ferociously at her. “What are you looking at?” he demands, stepping into and striding over to her spot in the sandbox.

She drops her bucket and stands, huffing, suddenly put off by his attitude. “Nothing! I was just sitting here, minding my own business,” she pouts, crossing her arms. 

“Well, I heard you scoff,” he snaps back.

“I didn’t scoff!” she replies indignantly.

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

“Did too!”

“Did not—aah!” 

Momo stares up at her perpetrator in scandalised shock, her mouth wide open at the slightly guilty look forming on the boy’s face. “I can’t believe,” she sputters, flailing. “That you pushed me!”

His frown deepens, and he stares off to the side petulantly. “It’s just sand. And well, you made fun of me first.”

Made fun of? Momo’s jaw drops again, her mind racing to understand his response. When did she make fun of this boy? She notices the slight downturn of his brows and the scuffing of his feet, and despite his thorny demeanor, he looks smaller and lonelier by the minute. She cocks her head and studies him, really looks at him, and it suddenly dawns on her—he had thought she had mocked his hair.

“Oh! I wasn’t really—I mean, I was shocked, but—well, just surprised, really,” she nervously rambles, waving her hands to indicate innocence. “I had just never seen anyone with your hair color before. I really do honestly think it’s...” she pauses shyly, peering up at him from the ground. “...nice.”

The boy’s eyebrows lift into his hairline at her words, and Momo notes that there is a redness that seeps into his ears. “W-whatever,” he spits out, deftly looking away from her.

She smiles at him, and decides that she likes this boy. “Your white hair is cool, Shiro-chan!”

His head whips back around, and the hostile glare is back. “...Shiro-chan…?” he stomps his feet angrily. “My name is Hitsugaya Toshiro, not Shiro-chan!”

“Hinamori Momo,” she stands and brushes off sand, grinning at her newfound friend. “Let’s go play on the swings, Shiro-chan!” she grabs his hand and begins excitedly dragging him towards the swingset.

Toshiro yelps at the weight, nearly toppling over. “Hey! It’s Hitsugaya Toshiro! And no, I don’t want to go on the swings!”

“I heard you yelling about the swings earlier,” she responds with a knowing look, and he frowns at her apparent attention to detail. “Come on, I’ll push you!”

He reluctantly follows her to the swings, and she gestures eagerly for him to sit. As she pushes him higher and higher, the frown starts to slip off his face and she grins secretly to herself. Shiro-chan really is too cute, she muses, watching him laugh in delight as he swings in the air.

“You have to push me too,” she shouts at him as he flies up into the sky.

“As if!” he yells back.

He pushes her anyway.

-------

It is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

They are inseparable as the years pass, and an unlikely bond forms between two childhood friends with polar opposite personalities.

“Momo-chan! Are you coming to the park afterschool?”

She nods brightly, zipping up her backpack with a secure flick. “Mm-hm! I’ll be there,” she says, smiling widely at her friend. “I just have to wait for Shiro-chan!”

Her friend pauses to grimace, a frown slipping into her expression. “Does he have to come?” she wrinkles her nose at the very idea of hanging out with Hitsugaya. “He doesn’t fit in at all.”

Momo nods firmly. “He’s really not that bad,” she tries to reason. “He’s a meanie sometimes, but he’s a very good friend and person. People just don’t give him a chance,” she states resolutely, crossing her arms.

“I don’t know…” the frown on her friend’s face doesn’t lessen. “...Maybe it’s better if he doesn’t come.”

“I’m not leaving without him,” she says, shaking her head decisively. Momo stands, swinging her bag onto her shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” she waves, and without looking back at her friend’s likely sour reaction, she leaves the classroom, the door banging behind her.

Toshiro later looks at her questioningly as she catches him leaving his locker. “Weren’t you going to hang out with your friends today?”

She dismisses his query, pulling him by the arm. “Nah, let’s get watermelon shaved ice instead! I’ve been craving it!”

“I’m pretty sure you were supposed to—”

“It’s so hot!” she cuts him off, fanning herself as they stumble together down the hallway. “It’s a perfect day for something cold and sweet,” she says, wagging her pointer finger. “Your treat, Shiro-chan!”

“It’s Hitsugaya!” he retorts out of habit, dropping the earlier subject. “Stop calling me that nickname; we’re in junior high already!”

Momo laughs, patting him on the head. “But you’re always going to be Shiro-chan to me,” she says gleefully, ruffling his hair as he tries to pull away. “Little, cute, grumpy Shiro-chan!”

He snatches her hand out of his white unruly locks, glowering up at her jovial expression. “I’m not little and cute!” he exclaims angrily. “And just you wait, Hinamori. I’m going to be big and tall and handsome!” 

The petulant response just makes her laugh again. “Sure, sure,” she waves her arm nonchalantly, before stopping to give him a pointed look. “Just don’t go around threatening to beat people up,” Momo scolds, frowning slightly. “I heard from Aizen-sensei that you almost got into a fight yesterday.”

Toshiro has the decency to look mildly chastised, his gaze downcast. “...They were making fun of you,” he begrudgingly admits, staring at his sneakers.

“They’re just mean boys,” she rationalizes, but tilts her head contemplatively, a small, fond smile growing on her lips. “...But thank you, Hitsugaya-kun.” 

He snaps his head up, wide-eyed, before darting his gaze away hurriedly. “W-whatever. And I’m not paying for your dessert,” he quickly recovers from his embarrassment, a smirk lining the corner of his mouth. “...Bed-wetter Momo.”

“Shiro-chan! That’s so mean!” Momo shouts childishly, punching him on the shoulder. “You know I don’t wet the bed anymore!”

“That’s what you get for calling me ‘Shiro-chan,’” he sticks out his tongue. “And you did that until the third grade!”

“No, I didn’t!” she pouts. “Take it back!”

“Yes, you did!”

“No!”

“Yes!”

The bickering continues down the hallway and out into the street. 

-------

Hinamori Momo goes on her first date in her junior year of highschool, when a red-faced, fumbling Kira Izuru approaches and awkwardly asks her out.

“Of course, Kira-kun,” she answers, cheeks rosy and shy. This is her first date ever, and she suddenly forgets that she has been friends with Kira for over a year now.

“What do I do? What do I do?” she hyperventilates to Hitsugaya later, frantically pacing about the room. 

He is strangely quiet throughout her word vomit, and she doesn’t register the poorly concealed expression of mild irritation and discontent on his face. 

“...He’s just Kira,” Toshiro eventually responds, brows furrowed. “You don’t have to be any different around him.”

“B-but, it’s a date!” she sputters, still panicked. “I’ve never been on a date before! I didn’t even think people noticed me, let alone a good friend!”

He scoffs. “People notice you,” he mutters under his breath, a sour look forming. 

Momo ignores his mumbling, continuing to gesture widely. “Plus,” she pauses, dramatically flinging her arms to better showcase her histrionics. “It’s...Kira-kun!”

“Why does that matter?” he asks, a delicate brow arched. 

“He’s—I don’t know—like popular, and tall, and—I mean, good-looking!” she laments, throwing herself onto the bed. “I don’t know how to handle that,” she mutters into her pillow.

Toshiro shifts in her desk chair, clearly uncomfortable. Something in his face darkens, and he studies the floor with an unusual amount of interest. “...That’s what you see in him, huh.”

“What?” she sits up and shoots him a confused look. “I mean, I guess…”

He swallows, and Momo frowns, puzzled. There are very few moments in their friendship that she has had trouble reading him, but the carefully blank expression on his face only bewilders her.

“...Just be yourself,” he says, after a moment of hesitation. “It’s his loss if he doesn’t like you for you,” he adds and shrugs, pulling at the loose thread of fabric on the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “If it’s not meant to be, it’s not meant to be.” 

It appears as if he wants to say more, but he stays silent, still picking at the strand of his hoodie. 

Momo purses her lips, considering his advice. “I...really appreciate that, Hitsugaya-kun,” she says, tucking her legs underneath herself, suddenly feeling a bit shy. “Thank you.”

“Whatever,” he immediately snaps, but Momo knows that his ears light up anyway. She giggles, and is comforted by this Shiro-chan, whom she knows like the back of her hand. It feels like a return to the comfortable routine they share, and she feels slightly relieved by the familiar territory.

“Just don’t be mad if he doesn’t like you because you’re a bed-wetter,” he taunts, grinning. 

She throws him a dirty look, sticking out her tongue in response. “That’s mean, Shiro-chan! That was in third grade!”

“It’s Hitsugaya! Stop with that nickname!”

“Not unless you stop saying I wet the bed!”

“But you do wet the bed!”

“Mou, Shiro-chan!”

“It’s Hitsugaya!”

They dissolve into their usual bickering, and Momo laughs freely, hoping that their friendship never changes.

…

“Um, I just—I don’t think it will work out,” Kira later tells her as he scratches the back of his head stiffly, his gaze not quite reaching hers. “Plus, I think—I don’t want to intrude,” he adds hesitantly.

Momo’s smile drops and her shoulders sag, and disappointment fills her. She had thought that the date went well, and that the two of them had a lot of fun together, sharing stories and experiences with vigor and laughter. 

“Oh,” is all she can say, twisting her bracelet around her wrist anxiously. “...Although, it’s...really not an intrusion, though,” she pauses after processing his latter statement and tilts her head up at him, ponderingly. 

He just shuffles uncomfortably, looking around the hallway. “It’s just, I don’t know—it didn’t seem like you were int—” he immediately cuts himself off as Toshiro slides into view.

“Hinamori,” the white-haired boy greets, handing her a math textbook.  

She receives the book gratefully. “Ah, thanks, Hitsugaya-kun,” she nods at her friend, “Do you need it back by tonight?”

Toshiro shakes his head. “No, keep it. I know you need it for the entire weekend.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” she whines. “Not everyone is a prodigy like you, Shiro-chan!”

“It’s Hitsugaya—”

“Uh, I should—I have to go,” Kira blurts out, gaze shifting wildly between the two arguing friends. “I—uh, nice seeing you, Momo,” he says awkwardly, before pausing to look at the other party. “And, uh, you too, Hitsugaya.”

He all but sprints down the hallway.

Momo turns to her companion, both parts bemused and downcast. “He...he said he didn’t think it would work,” she clarifies after a beat, chewing her bottom lip, staring off in the direction Kira disappeared to. “...I guess he didn’t like me after all.”

Toshiro takes in her despondent expression, and sighs. “It’s his loss, Momo,” he says gently, and reaches out to pat her on the arm, rubbing circles softly into the crook of her elbow. “If he can’t appreciate you for who you are, he doesn’t deserve you.”

She smiles at him weakly, but gratefully. “...Yeah...you’re right. Thanks, Shiro-chan,” she mutters quietly, her mouth lifting higher. 

He doesn’t comment on her use of his nickname this time, and she leans into him with a thankful grin. Although he usually pulls away and quips at her when she smothers him with physical affection, he doesn’t move when she lays her head on his shoulder.

They stay that way for a while.

-------

She doesn’t get approached again, and Momo fleetingly wonders if she is doing something wrong. She doesn’t dwell on the topic of her love life however, and spends the rest of highschool drowning in her academics, standardized testing, extracurriculars, and college applications.

Toshiro gets into Tokyo University early in their senior year on a soccer scholarship, and she rolls her eyes in irritation at the ease in which he moves through life. He wants to be a professional soccer player, and she has no doubt that he will become the best player in the country.

“Work hard, play hard,” he once tells her with a mouthful of amanatto made by his grandmother, shrugging when she asks him how he became a prodigy. “That’s the secret to success.” 

She just wrinkles her nose in response, throwing her pillow at his face. Jerk. 

Instead, she resolves to work harder and studies day and night to get into the same university, and the hard work pays off when she receives her acceptance letter in the spring. 

She is so ecstatic that she gets to move to Tokyo (oh my god, Tokyo!) to study literary journalism (her dream) and be with her best friend (to boot)! 

Toshiro doesn’t act surprised when she informs him of the good news.

“I didn’t doubt you at all,” he tells her nonchalantly, zipping up his soccer bag. She frowns a little at his indifference, but when he stands up to look at her, the silent glint of pride in his eyes warms her heart. 

The year feels like it zips by with all of the preparation and celebration activities, and she is so preoccupied that she completely forgets about prom.

“Who are you taking to prom, Momo-chan?” Rangiku, one of her closest friends, asks as she leans casually over the lunch table, swiping at one of her fries. 

“I’unno,” she answers absentmindedly, furiously crossing out and circling words on her English essay. She chews on the eraser of her mechanical pencil, anxiously scribbling out notes in the margins of the paper.

“Momo-chan! Are you even paying attention?” the busty strawberry blonde makes a grab for her pencil. “Stop editing your English homework!”

Momo swats her away, ducking away from her friend’s hands. “Rangiku!” she complains. “I need to finish this!”

“But, Momo-chan, this is serious!” her friend whines, shaking her head frantically. “You work too hard these days! When will you let loose and have a little fun?”

Exhaling in mild exasperation, Momo puts down her homework. “I need to do well in English to hopefully qualify for that scholarship,” she explains, pursing her lips. “I don’t have the money to go to Tokyo otherwise.”

Rangiku pauses in a moment of brief maturity and understanding, patting her lightly on the arm. “You will, Momo,” she says with utmost certainty. “I know you’ll be great, okay? Besides, I’m not worried about your academics, I’m worried about you becoming an old cat lady!”

The dark-haired teenager rolls her eyes heavenward at her friend’s dramatics, but she sighs anyway, deciding to humor her antics momentarily. “Okay, fine. What’s the problem?”

“Who are you taking to prom?” Rangiku repeats, leaning in even closer. 

“I don’t know,” she answers honestly, shrugging. “No one’s really asked, I guess.”

Rangiku turns to the side and mutters something that sounds suspiciously like he hasn’t asked yet? and he’s so stupid before Momo interrupts her maniacal mumbling with, “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, everything’s fine, Momo-chan, dear,” the blonde answers with gritted teeth, but Momo just raises her eyebrows, not believing a single word. 

She decides to ignore her friend’s weird behavior, changing the subject to something she’s thought about recently. “It’s been a little weird between us after that one date last year,” she taps her chin thoughtfully. “But maybe Kira-kun? I can always ask him, I guess.”

“Uh, I’m not sure,” her friend answers quickly. “I don’t think Kira is the best option—”

The conversation is interrupted by the loud thumping of textbooks onto the table, and Momo turns to see her best friend groaning as he slides into the seat next to her, dropping his head onto the pile of books. 

“Ah, Hitsugaya-kun,” she sympathizes with a pitying smile. “Finals are terrible, aren’t they?”

“Who cares about multivariable calculus anyway?” he gripes, lifting his head weakly. “Why do they have all these requirements for athletes?”

Momo scoffs lightly. “Serves you right for qualifying for an athletic and academic combined scholarship,” she chastises, resting her chin on her palm. “And for skipping the general requirements and going straight to the advanced classes!”

“Yeah, taichou,” Rangiku agrees, studying her manicured nails in barely concealed disinterest. “Serves you right for being both the soccer captain and a major nerd.”

Toshiro shoots her a dirty look, unzipping his soccer bag and pulling out a stack of papers. “Don’t think you won’t get even more paperwork now, Ms. Soccer-team-manager,” he says sternly, gloating at how pale her face becomes. “What were you guys talking about, anyway?”

Rangiku recovers rather quickly, an amused smirk forming on her face. “Oh, we were just talking about Momo-chan’s date for the prom,” she flutters her eyelashes obnoxiously, kicking him under the table.

He winces. “Oh.”

“‘Oh’?! That’s all you have to say, taichou?” Rangiku asks through a strained smile, leaning even closer to the smaller white-haired teen in intimidation.

Momo sighs, placing her chin on the palms of her hands. “I don’t know—we were saying, maybe Kira-kun? He and I have been a little weird though...I honestly don’t think anyone’s interested.”

She doesn’t notice the stare-down engaged between the two people next to her, broken when Rangiku coughs pointedly. 

“...Hinamori,” Toshiro starts, clearing his throat awkwardly. “If you want, uh, I mean,” he stumbles over his words, cursing himself in his head. He pauses, and then straightens in a sudden burst of confidence: “I’ll take you to prom.”

Momo blinks, eyes wide in surprise. She never really considered that Hitsugaya would ever want to go to prom, let alone be her date for such a “frivolous and unnecessary” event (a direct quote). “A-are you sure, Hitsugaya-kun?” she asks, with genuine concern. “I didn’t think you would want to go to prom!”

“It’s a necessary part of the highschool experience,” he reasons logically, looking everywhere but at her. “And, if you want to go, then that’s enough of a reason.”

Her jaw drops, and she takes in his heartfelt words with a wide smile. “Shiro-chan! That’s so kind!” she yells, diving forward to hug him. 

He tries to duck out of the way to no avail, his neck flushed as she squeezes the life out of him. “It’s Hitsugaya! And don’t make me take the offer back!”

“Thank you so much, Hitsugaya-kun!” she mumbles happily into his shirt, and he can feel her giddy smile through the loose fabric of his soccer jersey. The look on his face softens as he tightens his grip around her, and Rangiku fondly watches the pair of best friends with a small smile on her face. 

Stupid idiots.

...

Prom was a wild, hysterical whirlwind of events that included a group of students getting busted for bringing alcohol (likely Rangiku-related), a fistfight that started for no particular reason (the gymnasium ended up trashed), and a dramatic love confession between childhood friends—

“Wow, that was a crazy night, huh?” Momo exhales loudly, rolling her eyes at the antics of her classmates. “Rangiku really got away by the skin of her teeth.”

Toshiro crosses his arms over the tie of his tuxedo. “No, I don’t think so,” he responds with an annoyed huff, no doubt thinking of a million ways that he can punish his team manager later. “It’s because that stupid student chaperone is fond of her.”

“Well, Ichimaru-san and Rangiku go way back,” she reasons, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “I guess it makes sense that he’s fond of her.” She leans back, looking up at the twinkling of stars in the sky, her hands wound behind the back of her puffy dress. 

“Speaking of going way back…” she says slowly, feeling strangely sentimental and sappy. “I can’t believe Renji finally confessed his feelings for Rukia tonight! And in front of everyone, no less! He really waited for Kuchiki-san to graduate before the grand gesture, but her brother’s definitely going to find out now!”

Her rambling stops when she notices her companion’s lack of response. “...Hitsugaya-kun?”

He looks especially thoughtful tonight, and there is a faraway look in his eyes that she cannot quite understand. There is some hesitation in the way he moves forward to speak, but his poker face slides into place firmly before she can begin to analyze his behavior.

“It’s about time, right?” she says quickly, trying to make sense of the tense atmosphere that has just formed around them. “I think it’s weird to date your childhood friends because you grew up in diapers and all, but whatever works for them, I guess!”

He pauses, and something in his eyes dim. “Weird?”

“Yeah,” she continues, oblivious to the change in his expression. “I mean, it’d be super awkward, right? Like, think about me and you, for example. It’d be so ridiculous!”

His face closes up completely, so quickly that she doesn’t even have time to register the change. “...Yeah,” he mutters, twisting around. “It’s ridiculous.”

“Hitsugaya-kun?” Momo asks in concern, baffled by his sudden mood shift. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” he answers, his back firmly turned. “Let’s go back.” 

They walk home in silence, and Momo only remembers the icy demeanor and the feeling of something she hasn’t experienced since the day they first met—being shut out.

-------

College starts and there is a flurry of orientation and extracurricular activities and meeting new people, and Momo starts to get busier and busier.

She is on a prestigious scholarship that requires her utmost diligence (and the keeping of a certain GPA), while Toshiro is the busiest athlete in the entire city. He makes soccer captain his freshman year of college, and is thrust into tournaments, practices, and unfortunately, paperwork. 

By the start of their sophomore year, Momo starts to feel like they are drifting further and further apart, and she is briefly sad at the thought of separation. 

She finds herself missing her best friend’s presence, banter, and biting remarks, and resolves to make more of an effort to spend time with him.

“Ugh, my brain is melting,” she complains to her fellow literature classmate, Ichigo Kurosaki, as they make their way across campus. 

He laughs, slinging his backpack onto one shoulder, his other arm carrying his soccer bag. “Yeah, that midterm sucked. Royally.” Ichigo adjusts his grip on the duffel bag, cocking his head to look over at her, eyebrow raised. “You coming with?” he asks, nudging his chin towards the field.

Momo nods eagerly. “Yeah,” she answers, following his lead. “I told Hitsugaya-kun I would wait for him after practice.”

“Good. That dude needs to loosen up sometimes,” he says gruffly. “He doesn’t know how to chill out.”

She laughs at the grumpiness on his face, but she knows that the two are good friends, despite the constant insults and hostile comments. That is just how Hitsugaya Toshiro makes friends, she guesses.

As they approach the edge of the soccer field, Momo spots the captain casually leaning against the goal post, his hands in his pockets.

“Ah, Hitsuga—” she starts excitedly, but immediately stops and freezes when a black-haired girl comes into view, tossing a soccer ball up and down. The girl says something that makes Toshiro startle, and he retorts back, which makes her giggle up at him. He makes a move to lean down a little closer, and Momo abruptly turns away, unable to keep watching.

Acid burns her throat, and she swallows painfully, her heart thundering in her ears. A million questions rush through her mind. Who is she? Why are they so friendly? When did this happen? And most importantly: Why does it hurt so much?

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Ichigo asks in concern, when he realizes that his companion has suddenly stopped walking. 

“I—It’s nothing,” she manages to stammer out, trying to collect her thoughts and emotions. Toshiro has never even mentioned a girl being in his life before, in all of the years that she had known him. Or maybe he was really good at hiding it? Maybe she didn’t know him that well after all. And why did she care so much? 

Ugh, she was rambling in her own mind!

“Oh, hey, it’s Karin,” Ichigo’s eyes light up in recognition as he follows her gaze. “She’s my little freshman sister, but she’s real good at soccer, that squirt. They’re pretty good friends now,” he explains, gesturing to the two people on the field.

“Oh,” she says, and bites her lip. 

They are good friends. 

Huh. 

Ichigo immediately notices her less-than-enthusiastic response, studying her out of the corner of his eye. “Mo,” he calls out, hesitantly. “...You good?”

The genuine concern in his voice snaps her out of it, and Momo forces a smile onto her face. “Yeah, everything’s fine!” she tries to stay upbeat, but the smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Uh, I’m actually gonna head back instead, if that’s okay. I’m feeling a bit tired.”

He only looks more concerned at her sudden need to leave. “Wait, you sure? I’m sure the captain would be happy to see you—”

“No, no,” she shakes her head quickly. “I’ll—uh, come by another day! He—he seems busy, anyway.”

At this, Ichigo just seems confused. “Nah, you know it’s not like that, right? Toshiro would love to see you—”

But Momo can’t take hearing anymore, and she just bolts, waving goodbye to her friend. “Sorry, Ichigo! I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

As she flies out of campus in the direction of her dorm, she bites her lip to keep the frustrated tears from forming at the corners of her eyes. The sight of her building finally allows her to slow down, and she belatedly realizes that her hands had formed fists so tight that her fingernails had dug into her palm. 

That was not a normal reaction, she tells herself in irritation. That was not a normal reaction to seeing your friend with someone else. 

The thought of losing Toshiro, of having his priorities shift to someone else more important in his life, absolutely terrifies her. She sniffles, angry at herself. This is so selfish; this is so stupid!

She cannot take up his time, his life, his livelihood, like that. She is just his childhood friend, and who can expect to always keep one’s childhood friend as the first and only priority in their life?

Who did she think she was, his girlfriend? 

That would be...it would be…it would be—

Her mouth drops open.

—exactly what she wanted.

And it finally dawns on Momo how she feels—how she had felt her entire life, likely—about her best friend, Hitsugaya Toshiro. 

No, no, no, no—this cannot be happening, she starts to panic, the tears rushing back. I can’t possibly—no, it’s not possible.

She slaps herself silly, exhaling heavily at the implication of her own thoughts. She refuses to let this happen. She refuses to ruin a perfectly good and fine relationship with her own stupid, and probably fleeting, feelings.

Suddenly resolute, she shakes her head to clear her mind. This will not deter her, and she will find a way to move forward without getting stuck.

…

Momo manages to weave and bob her way through the rest of the semester, avoiding him whenever she can and making excuse after excuse after excuse.

She decides to keep some distance between them to clear her mind, and hopefully stomp out the remnants of feelings she has recently discovered. (Spoiler alert: It doesn’t work).

It is their winter break when she visits her hometown, and subsequently meets up with one of her oldest friends.

“Hey, Momo-chan, I’ve been meaning to ask,” Rangiku trails off, clearly trying to pick her words carefully. “Are...you and taichou okay?”

Momo tenses up briefly, but the moment passes as soon as it comes. “Yeah, why?” she asks nonchalantly, painting her pinky toe nail a delicate shade of green.

“I dunno, uh,” her friend responds untactfully, stumbling over her own words. “He’s just, uh, upset, I guess? Or just in a really bad mood lately, but you can’t always tell with taichou, haha!” Her laugh is strained, and Momo rolls her eyes at the blonde’s inability to navigate sensitive topics.

“I’ve just been really busy,” she responds curtly, effectively cutting off the topic. Rangiku studies her with a hesitant glance, and Momo can feel the weight of her pointed gaze. She just sighs, stopping her ministrations to look up at her friend. “It’s just complicated, okay?”

The strawberry blonde pouts, stretching herself closer on the bed. “Momo, you know you can always talk to me about it, right?”

“Yes,” she replies, swallowing lightly. It is still hard to talk about, but Momo knows she can’t avoid the topic forever. “It’s just—I don’t know! Hitsugaya-kun is suddenly out here, with his stupid soccer talent, and stupid hair, and stupid height—did you even realize that he’s grown so tall? Ugh, it’s frustrating!” she throws her hands up, rambling with a vehement passion. “And he’s so popular now! And he has so many friends? And the girls—don’t even get me started—I don’t even know what’s going on anymore!”

Rangiku blanches at her rant, surprised. “W-what?”

“Maybe I’m just lonely!” she continues her tirade, much too heated to notice her friend’s reaction. “I just want to go out and live! And maybe date! Is that so much to ask for?”  

“Well, all you do is study, and when you’re not studying, you’re spending time with him,” Rangiku explains pragmatically, but the cheshire grin is hovering underneath her desperate attempt to keep a straight face. “It’s not exactly conducive to meeting anyone else.”

And for once, she...has a point. Momo considers this, pursing her lips thoughtfully. “...Yeah, you’re actually right,” she draws out slowly, chewing on her bottom lip. “I...I think I know what to do.”

“Great!” Rangiku cheers. “Finally!”

…

“Momo, are you sure about this?” Orihime Inoue asks dubiously, anxiously scanning the room filled with chattering students. “I don’t know why I agreed to do this...blind dating thing.”

“Of course, ‘hime!” she responds enthusiastically, although the anxiety is rolling around in her gut. She pumps her fist to encourage herself, even though her nervous mind is frantically telling her to leave and never come back. “We have to put ourselves out there!”

Her friend peeks out from behind her apprehensively, gnawing at her lip. “I—I really don’t know, Momo—”

“No! You need to get over that highschool crush of yours!” she cuts her off defiantly. She had met Orihime, who is currently working as a pastry chef in culinary school, at her local bakery last year. The two had become fast friends, especially with Momo’s penchant for peach tarts and watermelon milk tea. 

“He’s really not—he’s not like that—” Orihime protests, before sighing in defeat. “Alright, you’re right,” she acquiesces, the fire lighting in her eyes. “Let’s do this!”

“Yeah!” 

As the two of them turn towards the congregated group of people, a male student lightly taps Orihime on the shoulder. “I haven’t seen you around before,” he casually compliments, his eyes lightly roaming her body. “You from around here?”

She stiffens, waving her hands in polite and mildly nervous frenzy. “Oh, no! I’m a culinary student at the Tokyo School of Culinary Arts,” she clarifies, wincing when he reaches over to pat her shoulder. “I don’t go to Tokyo University.”

“Ah, a chef? That’s nice—”

“Inoue?”

Three heads turn to see Ichigo’s surprised face, and a scowl slowly forms when understanding of the situation dawns in his eyes. The boy in between them pales and retracts his hand, excusing himself quickly.

“Kurosaki-kun?” Orihime gasps, clearly in shock. “W-what are you doing here?”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Momo interjects, shaking her head to make sense of the entire scene. “You guys know each other?”

“Ah, yes,” the orange-haired girl says quickly, meeting her gaze nervously. “W-we went to Karakura highschool together,” she explains to Momo, her eyes widened with guilt and a tint of shame. 

They...went to highschool together? Momo briefly remembers the description of the “oblivious delinquent jerk who is too stupid to recognize Orihime’s feelings” from one blunt Tatsuki Arisawa.

She immediately puts two and two together, and her jaw drops in realization. “It’s Ichigo?!” she whispers loudly, her gaze piercing in faux accusation. 

Orihime nods quickly, her cheeks flaming red, and Momo facepalms, groaning into her hand. How is it that she has known both of these idiots for almost two years and not put the pieces together earlier? 

“Inoue,” the ignored man in question steps in, a frown firmly settled on his features. “What are you doing here?”

“She’s here for the blind dating event, Ichigo,” Momo indignantly answers for her, when the girl pinks in distress, and gestures around at all the informational signs. “Isn’t it obvious?”

The frown only deepens, his brows pinched. “I didn’t think you would come to something like this.”

Orihime only shrinks in response, looking down at her feet. “I just—um—”

“She doesn’t have to justify herself to you,” Momo cuts in, suddenly annoyed by his insinuation. 

His eyebrows shoot up, and he holds up both hands defensively. “Hey, I’m not trying to ask for justification,” he clarifies, looking troubled. “It’s just—guys can be gross, I guess. I’m just trying to protect—ah, I don’t want to overstep my boundaries.” Ichigo rubs his face, clearly frustrated with himself. “Sorry, Inoue.”

“No, no, no,” she immediately responds, reaching out to touch his arm kindly. “I—I really do appreciate it, Kurosaki-kun.” 

His lips twist up, but his forehead remains pinched. “I—uh,” he starts, before cutting himself off with an irritated frown. “Inoue, can we—could you make some time to talk? With me?” he asks instead, a hesitant tilt to his words, but a resolute glint shining in his eyes.

She studies him fondly, her hand still lightly resting on his arm. “Yeah,” she meets his gaze, staring up at him. “Yeah, I can.” 

Momo observes the pair, rolling her eyes at her good friends in exasperation. These two were idiotic to think anything was ever unrequited, she thinks, but she was nevertheless happy for them. 

“Hey, and you,” Ichigo shifts his attention suddenly to her, a look of disapproval forming on his brow. “It’s unfortunate that the soccer team had to have some business in the area today. He’s not gonna be happy about this, you know.”

“What? Who’s not gonna be happy—”

“Hinamori?”

At the sound of that painfully familiar voice, Momo stops, turning to her side to see the one and only white-haired man of the hour, stalking over towards her with an unhappy glower etched onto his face.

“Speak of the devil,” Ichigo mutters under his breath. 

“What are you doing here?” the soccer captain looks especially agitated, and Momo blinks at the unexpected hostility emanating from his aura. 

“What do you mean, Hitsugaya-kun?” she argues back, upset by his tone. “I’m clearly at a blind-dating event!” She points to the nearby signs again, annoyed at the men in her life’s inabilities to read.

“And, just why, pray tell, are you at a blind-dating event?” he questions, a brow raised.

She bristles at the judgmental lilt in his voice. “I’m just trying to put myself out there! It’s not anything you’ve ever had to worry about, anyway!”

He reels back in confusion. “What are you talking about?” he asks, before he registers her statement. “Why are you trying to put yourself out there?”

“Maybe I just want to!” Momo fiercely deflects, defending her pride. “You don’t have to police me just because we’re childhood friends! You can do other things and meet other people too!”

“What are you even talking about?” he spits back, angry and bewildered. “Do you hear yourself? You’re being ridiculous!”

Ichigo and Orihime exchange looks of alarm. Oh no, he said the wrong thing, Orihime mouths to the fellow victim of the argument taking place. Ichigo only nods, frightened, slowly backing away from the two arguing friends.

“Ridiculous? Ridiculous?!” she enunciates furiously, clearly insulted. “I’m being ridiculous, Shiro-chan? I’m an adult, and I can do whatever I want! And that includes dating however many people I want!”

“It’s Hitsugaya,” he snaps back acerbically, almost on impulse. “Just because you’re feeling lonely and undesirable, doesn’t mean you can just go out and shamelessly do whatever you want!”

Orihime and Ichigo freeze. Uh oh. This is bad. This is really bad. They look at each other in unbridled horror.

“...You think I’m lonely and undesirable and shameless…?” Momo whispers, her eyes hidden underneath her bangs. Her body shakes in hot fury, and she cannot help the tears that form at the corner of her eyes.

Just as soon as he says the words, Toshiro pales, aghast. He looks horrified at himself, reaching forward to apologize. “M-Momo, I—I didn’t mean—”

When she looks up, the pain and hurt in the weight of her gaze hits him like a slap to the face. “I don’t want to see you ever again,” she says quietly, and sprints forward, disappearing out of the crowd.

She doesn’t even have time to register the miserable agony that flashes on Toshiro’s face.

...

“I’m really sorry to bother you on your day off,” Momo expresses remorsefully, cupping her hot cup of tea with tight hands.

“Oh, no, don’t worry,” Rukia immediately replies, waving her apology off. “My brother said I needed to rest, anyway.” She pulls a chair up to the table, leaning her chin on her knuckles. “What’s going on, Momo?”

Momo stares down at her tea, tears welling up in her eyes. She is tired of all the avoiding, pretending, and hiding. She chews at her lip, making a decision within herself, before looking up and meeting Rukia’s eyes with a watery gaze. “I—I think I’m in love with Hitsugaya-kun.”

Rukia listens patiently as she details the sequence of events from beginning to end, starting with college orientation and the feeling of drifting and the revelation of jealousy, to Rangiku’s advice and the speed dating and the biggest fight they have perhaps ever had.

“And now, I find out that Hitsugaya-kun thinks I’m lonely and undesirable and shameless,” she whimpers, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. “I am lonely and shameless—but undesirable? Hitsugaya-kun thinks I’m undesirable,” she says, her voice hollow. 

“Momo, no—that’s not true—”

“Yes, it is!” she asserts fiercely, slumping down onto the table. “I’ve never had a boyfriend—even in highschool, Kira-kun didn’t even want to date me after asking me out, and no one wanted to go to prom with me! And then in college, I don’t even think boys cared enough to even look at me—oh, no—he’s right! I am undesirable!”

“W-what?” And suddenly, Rukia is doubled over laughing, so hard that she almost falls off of her chair.

“And I’m—wait, Rukia—why are you laughing?!” Momo asks angrily, vaguely offended by her friend’s laughter at her vulnerability. 

Huffing and wheezing, Rukia finally manages to calm her guffawing enough to speak. “Momo,” she starts mirthfully, wiping at her eyes. “You really have no idea, do you?”

“What?” she frowns, confused. “What do I have no idea about?”

“It’s not what you think,” her friend continues, amused. “Kira didn’t back out because he didn’t like you. He thought you weren’t interested.”

Momo’s brows furrow. “And why would he think that?”

“Because on that date you went on, all you did was talk about Hitsugaya!” Rukia throws her hands up, looking dramatically weary. “Kira thought you guys were a thing then!”

“O-oh, what?” she stutters, bewildered by her friend’s straightforward statement, her cheeks flushing a rosy pink. “I—I didn’t even realize—”

“Oh, and none of the boys dared to ask you out on a date, or to prom,” Rukia carries on, still in good humour. “Because Hitsugaya was totally in love with you, and it was bro code to leave you alone. Plus, he can be kinda scary and overprotective sometimes,” she adds in afterthought. 

Momo’s only response is a wide-eyed gaze of shock.

“That obviously carried on into college, because Ichigo tells me that the entire soccer team knows of his undying love for you,” she goes on, clearly finding the entire situation hilarious. “He’s not exactly subtle about it, Momo.”

He...was in love with her? There was no way. Momo’s head is spinning, and she collapses backwards into her chair, trying to digest these new pieces of information.

“I thought—I,” she blubbers, winded. “I thought he would never think of me that way—”

“Momo,” Rukia says gently, patting her arm lightly in support and encouragement. “Go to him.”

…

Momo trudges home in a daze, still flabbergasted by the epiphany bestowed upon her by her good friend. She reaches her dorm hallway, eyes still unfocused, when she startles to a halt.

Toshiro stands in front of her door, pale and subdued, and she can see the bags sunken under his eyes. “Hinamori, I—” 

She raises a hand to stop him, her lower lip trembling. “...I’m sorry, Hitsugaya-kun.”

He looks shocked. “W-what? Why—”

“I was selfish,” she confesses, finally letting out what has been bothering her since the beginning. “I overreacted, because I was hurt. I was hurt, because I thought you would leave me and move on. I was afraid and selfish, and I lashed out and said all of those things I didn’t mean,” she sniffled.

He reaches out right away, wiping a tear from her cheek. “Don’t cry, Momo, please—”

Her eyes brim with more tears instead, and she whimpers at his touch. He has always hated her tears. He has always been so good to her—how could she not notice? Always protecting her, caring for her, being there for her—always at the edge of her life, waiting and waiting and waiting to be allowed to enter her heart. 

“Hitsugaya-kun, I—” she barely holds back a sob, launching forward into his arms, no longer able to be away from him. “—I love you.”

The arms around her stiffen abruptly. She stays stubbornly put, burying her face into his chest. 

When she gathers the courage to detach herself slowly and look up at his expression, she sees a deep and naked and tender affection, the most emotion he has ever allowed himself to show, in his turquoise eyes.

“Momo, you—” he murmurs, and there is almost (almost!) giddy disbelief in his voice. “It isn’t...ridiculous?”

She blinks, and suddenly, the memory floods back. Her mouth drops open, and she looks up at him with guilt and remorse. “Oh, Hitsugaya-kun,” she says, rubbing circles into his back in silent apology. “I’m sorry. It’s not ridiculous at all.”

“I don’t think you were being ridiculous, either,” he admits softly, touching her forehead gently with his. “I’m sorry.”

She sniffs, suddenly overcome with feelings of happiness and contentment and peace. “I love you, Shiro-chan.”

“I have always loved you, bed-wetter Momo,” he responds, voice thick with pent-up emotion and longing. 

She laughs, her breath tickling his face.

“I’m going to kiss you now, Hinamori,” he warns with a rare smile.

Momo eagerly meets him halfway, and their lips meet in an open-mouthed kiss, languid and sweet and whole, and it feels like home.

“Mm, Shiro-chan,” she moans, gripping his neck as he pushes her against the door of her dorm. She backs up and stumbles over something, causing both of them to fall over.

“Wha—” she looks over at what she tripped on, spotting a basket of peaches toppled onto the hallway floor. “What is this?”

Toshiro looks pointedly away from her, his neck and ears flushed red.

“Is this...for me?” she asks, pinching his cheeks fondly. “You’re so sweet, Shiro-chan!”

“It’s Hitsugaya!” he swats at her and scowls in complaint, completely out of habit and embarrassment. 

She laughs freely for the first time in a while, leaning in to press her smile into his shoulder. This is the beginning of the rest of their lives, she thinks as she teases him, the couple bickering and giggling on the floor of her dorm hallway.

She can only hope that it lasts forever and ever.

.

And it does. 

In this lifetime and beyond.

.

—fin.