#hitsuhina gift exchange 2022

[floodkiss]

Hitsuhina Gift Exchange 2022 @hitsuhina-week for @rays-of-fire-and-ice

I frequently find myself thinking about the panels where hitsuguya returns to the battlefield clad in quincy uniform and they make eye contact, as well as him reaching his mature form saying, “I don’t really like this form at all”, and the byakuya commenting on his bankai taking a heavy toll on his body (after helping rukia). TYBW was pretty rushed, so I decided to draw a “missing moment” - a tearful reunion on the battlefield, hinamori catching an exhausted hitsuguya who has reached his limit. I hope you like it, thank you for organizing this, i can’t wait to read all of the fics and look at all of the art ♡ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙

[canariie]

in law out(ing)

Rating: T

Synopsis: But what puzzled Toushiro more (and it was really too early for this), was that he was holding two fishing poles and wearing rubber boots.

“Why are you here?” Toushiro whispered venomously.

“Get ready! We’re going to the living world to fish!” Shinji responded cheekily, thrusting a pole and pair of boots in Toushiro’s unexpecting hands, as if that were answer enough.

“And why are we doing this?” he asked dubiously, inspecting the tools in his hands.

“Because we got to go when the fish are ‘bout to wake up!” Shinji rolled his eyes as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “We’re going to bond today! I got a whole list of activities for us to do.”

Toushiro muttered, “Is this your idea of bonding?”

…

Toushiro and Shinji have a day off to bond together (at Momo’s behest).

Word Count: 4290 words

Setting:  established relationship, many decades after the last Bleach chapter  

Prompt: @hitsuhina-week‘s Hitsuhina 2022 Gift Exchange

Authour’s Note: I’m so sorry that this is late! This is for @pinkhairedlily who requested Toushiro asking Shinji for Momo’s hand in marriage!

I kind of stepped back from the prompt a little bit but I do sincerly hope you enjoy it! I will admit, I am nervous because this is my first time writing Shinji and thinking of him (which is a lot harder than I thought), but it was a fun process.

Also shout out to Fuji Kaze’s Shinunoga E-Wa for being the unexpected mood setter!

— 

“Hitsugaya-taicho, I have a favour to ask…” Momo drawled out, as she snuggled into her boyfriend’s side. It was a cold winter night and the two were sitting in bed, reading their respective books. Momo had introduced Toushiro to the concept of reading before bed and he had to admit that he had been enjoying the latest titles she bought for him in the real world. Before they went to sleep, she would eagerly ask him what he thought until he would have to gently remind her to go to sleep if it were too late.

But tonight, it seemed like she had other things on her mind. Ah the captain’s title... Hinamori must really want something.

“What is it?”

“I know there is a captain’s day off at the end of the week…” she said softly as she traced patterns on his collarbone. “I think it’d be nice if you would spend it with Hirako-taicho.”

“No.”

“But Hitsugaya-kun,” Well there goes the title—it was nice while it lasted.

“I already have plans,” he defended, continuing to read his book.

“What plans?”

“To…read,” he said, turning a page for emphasis.

Momo arched her eyebrow. “Rangiku-san told me that you were excited for the day off so you could catch up on archiving old reports…”

“Those are valid plans for a day off.”

The book was gently taken from his hands, and he looked up to see Momo leaning over him as she held his face in her hands. “Toushiro,” she whispered with such intensity that it made his mind stutter, especially as she leant over, her long hair cascading around him like a curtain.

“I know you two have not always seen eye to eye...” He scoffed, but Momo continued undeterred. “However, I think if you spent a little time with each other outside of work, you could get to know each other better.”

She moved closer until Toushiro could see sparks flicker in her brown eyes, and feel warmth shoot down his core.

“You are my most important person and it would mean the world to me if you got along better with my captain.”

Toushiro raised a skeptical eyebrow.

Momo rolled her eyes. “The last one didn’t count.”

He said nothing, but Momo knew he was thinking it deeply over. She kissed his cheek. “Please?”

Toushiro knew that Momo knew exactly what she was doing. But even he had to admit that her words stirred something inside him. Toushiro sighed in defeat.

Momo smiled, knowing she had gotten him to cave in. She dipped down and kissed him deeply, melting into him and making him see warm sparks behind his eyes.

“Most important person, huh?” he breathed when they separated.  

She rolled her eyes playfully. “Yes, what of it?”

Momo yelped as Toushiro pulled her waist down, until she was cradled by him in his lap.

He bent down, his eyes deepening to a dark emerald. “You have always been my most important person—even before I knew it.”

Momo blushed, a silly smile on her face as she tucked her face into his neck.

He sighed in faux lament, “But—know that you owe me.”

She smiled with a knowing glint in her eyes, pulling his face down towards hers. “I’m sure I can think of a way to make it up.”

---

Toushiro grumbled as a loud knocking persisted at his door. It was his day off and he had been hoping to sleep in. He glared out his window, where it was still completely pitch black outside—but that did not deter the loud noise.

“What is it?” Toushiro growled as he stumbled out of bed and pulled the door roughly aside.

He had to blink twice to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

The fifth captain, Shinji Hirako, stood in front of him with a maddingly toothy grin. But what puzzled Toushiro more (and it was really too early for this), was that he was holding two fishing poles and wearing rubber boots.

“Why are you here?” Toushiro whispered venomously.

“Get ready! We’re going to the living world to fish!” Shinji responded cheekily, thrusting a pole and pair of boots in Toushiro’s unexpecting hands, as if that were answer enough.

“And why are we doing this?” he asked dubiously, inspecting the tools in his hands.

“Because we got to go when the fish are ‘bout to wake up!” Shinji rolled his eyes as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “We’re going to bond today! I got a whole list of activities for us to do.”

Toushiro muttered, “Is this an idea your idea of bonding?”

“This is mandatory for all officers in the Fifth Division. But I’d never wake my darling lieutenant this early—I’d give her another hour at least.”

Toushiro scowled deeply. “Don’t call her darling,” he said darkly—before slamming the door shut.

---

Toushiro had never seen the water so early in the morning. It was twilight, the sky blurring into a gentle blue. There was a sense that the sun was edging onto the horizon, but it still felt far and distant.

After they had stopped for coffee (which the older captain had the decency to pay for since Toushiro was still in a foul mood from being groused so early in the morning without warning), even he had to begrudgingly admit, that it was quite serene.

He did not expect the fifth division captain to have an itinerary for the day. Toushiro’s plans for the day was to just hop over to the Fifth, ask the captain to accompany him for tea (in front of Momo so she could see that yes, he was making an attempt at interaction) and finish that up in an hour and a half max—so he could go and work on archiving old reports the rest of the day.

Because to be frank, Toushiro would have rather spent the day off with Momo. They hadn’t had time alone to go out for a long time and that for him was a much more desirable way to spend his time off.

Instead, he was sitting in a fold out chair, clutching a fishing pole on a wooden dock at five in the morning as Shinji explained the wisdom of fishing.

“The key is to be patient. They’ll come to you but ya got to wait—otherwise you’ll miss your chance,” the blond captain explained as he raised his pole and swung, the line flying through air before making a gentle plop in the water.

Toushiro restrained himself from rolling his eyes but followed similarly.  

“When ya reel the rod, keep the line taut. If you do it too quickly, the fish can break away and ya lose the line,” Shinji demonstrated by pulling taut the line of the string. The older captain was lounging in his chair, sleeves rolled up to the elbow and leg crossed over knee, the perfect pose of relaxation.

“If we rush,” Shinji continued, “we get ahead of ourselves—which only hurts in the long run.”

Toushiro found himself drifting back to the war in the sky as he stared at the ripples in the water. It had been years, but time only eased the pain—it did not erase it. Though they were high up in the clouds, fighting an invisible battle, at that moment it was a grounding in reality.

He had been younger, rash and naïve. He thought he could kill Soul Society’s traitorous felon.

He was gravely mistaken.

Toushiro despised Aizen with every aching bone in his body. But he loathed himself more for being goaded into swinging the first blade. Feeling rage boil into him, all he could see was red as he rushed at Aizen first.

“When did you get so wise?” Toushiro asked sarcastically. He pulled at the rod—nothing yet.

Shinji laughed shortly. “Years of exile—gives ya time to think.” He took a sip of coffee. “We tried many things, wore many hats—all to survive. And one of them was fishing.”

Shinji leaned over and stage whispered, “We weren’t exactly earning money in conventional ways,” he tightened the lock of the pole shrugging his shoulders in an exaggerated fashion, “so we learned new skills.”

“Unfortunately, Hiyori can’t sit still for a minute—so she was banned from all fishing trips,” Shinji explained with faux diplomacy.

With his brief interactions with the short woman, Toushiro was not surprised.

And back in the battle, she had paid for her rashness. Though they didn’t know each other, the enemy of an enemy was an ally—and in that moment he could feel blood run cold seeing her severed half fall through the sky. In the end, it was all a cruel reminder and prelude to his own downfall.

Shinji watched the tent captain, whose eyes were distant and out on the horizon. He had a feeling of what was going through the young man’s head. It reminded the older captain of a time, very soon after the first war had finished, that those eyes held a similar pain.

Shinji stifled a yawn as he headed back to the Fifth Division headquarters. It was late into the night and he had just returned from the World of Living. Kyoraku-soutaicho insisted on a channel of constant communication with the Vizards that were still in the living world, so he sent Shinji on diplomatic visits. But the blond captain knew that behind smiles and pleasant reason, it was just to keep aware of possible treachery. Though many of them were working for the Thirteen Division Guards, there was always some underlying suspicion.

Well—it didn’t bother him too much. It was an excuse to go to the Living World during working hours.

He opened the door and immediately wished he had arrived later.

The white-haired captain didn’t notice Shinij. He was standing behind Momo’s desk, who was fast asleep, a brush in her hands and head resting on paperwork. Shinji watched as the young boy placed a blanket over her shoulders, barely touching her, before shifting the candle flame away from her.

The lone light of the room casted dark shadows over Toushiro’s face, obscuring his eyes from Shinji.  

He looked up, and at the sight of the Fifth captain his teal eyes went wide, like a deer in headlights.

“Can I help you?” Shinji asked to cut the tension in the room.

And just like the flicker of the shadow, the tenth captain narrowed his eyes, the shock completely gone. “Are you working her late?”

Shinji wanted to roll his eyes but held back, knowing that probably wouldn’t bode well with the other captain. “No. I told her those could be finished tomorrow.”

Toushiro nodded, still holding his glare at Shinji. A moment of silence. “I dropped off the reports for you to sign,” he said shortly, which made Shinji think if it was deliberate the young captain came late, since those weren’t due for a couple days. Toushiro made his way towards the exit, arms tucked into his sleeves, leaving no more room for conversation.

“Aren’t ya going to Matsumoto’s party?” Shinji asked. The tenth division lieutenant had invited people to go out to drink to celebrate the news of Renjii and Rukia’s engagement.

The white-haired boy stopped. “No.” Toushiro looked over his shoulder. “It’d be better if I didn’t go.”

Shinji waited until he left before he made his way over to his vice-captain, gently shaking her awake.

“Hmm, Taicho?” she mumbled, sleep still evident in her voice. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask ya the same thing,” he responded, pulling the brush out of her hand. “C’mon—let’s take you home.”

Momo made no protest as she stood up, her short hair sticking out in various directions that reminded Shinji of a dry paint brush.

“Someone from tenth division dropped the reports over—you won’t have to go tomorrow morning to pick them up.”

“Oh okay…” Momo looked down, pursing her lips in confusion. “Taicho, did you put this over me?” She asked as she shifted the blanket, looking at it forlornly.

He looked at her, contemplating how much to say. “No, I didn’t.”

“…okay,” she said, sounding more awake but further away than before.

Seeing how her shoulders deflated, he gently led her up out of her seat. “How about we stop by to say hi at Matsumoto’s—and if ya don’t want to stick around, I’ll walk you back,” Shinji remarked as he blew out the candle.

For Shinji, who was returning to an old post after many years, he knew it wasn’t his place to be involved. He was just relearning the ropes with a new lieutenant following behind his back. Besides getting over the urge to resist looking over his shoulder, he and Momo were still learning to be in each other’s presence.

There were bumps in the road, of course. (He still never could forget the dubious look she gave him when he suggested to cut her hair—the first time that she had shown such strong disbelief outside of her usual polite diplomacy.) The beginning was just making sure not to step too far out of line with each other. But the line gradually faded, and they fell into a routine together. Now, he considered himself lucky to have a competent soldier like her working beside him.

A slight tug at the pole broke Shinji from his revere, pulling him forward at the edge of his chair.

“Look, look!”

Toushiro could only watch as Shinji steadily reeled in the line, the fish thrashing about and sending waves through the water. It slipped out of the water just as the sun broke the horizon, the scales of the fish glistening in a yellow glow.

“See—what’d I tell ya?” He grinning holding up the fish before depositing it in his bucket.

Toushiro looked to his own pole and pulled on it, but only string came with the bait missing from the hook.

“Well…we can’t be prodigies at everything,” Shinji said flippantly.

---

Toushiro didn’t know what sort of itinerary the Fifth Captain had for the day. The white-haired man was dragged to random locations around Karakura Town: the barber shop (“this is where I learned to cut hair!” Shinji pointed out while he sat for a quick trim), the hardware store (“Kensei needed a new grate for his BBQ” the blond man defended at Toushiro’s raised eyebrow), a bookstore (Toushiro looked away in embarrassment as Shinji picked up Yadamoru-taicho’s magazine subscription) and the post office (“Need to check my PO box if anything’s come in,” he claimed, peering in the box and pulling out a wad of bills). Shinji seemed to have a secret agenda because he kept on picking things up at small shops along the way. But if Toushiro hadn’t known better—it was as if the man were doing his errands for the day and just having him tag along.

The bell chimed as they entered an unassuming record store. There were rows of wooden boxes, teeming with layers of records. Faded posters were pasted on every inch of the wall to the point that one couldn’t recognize the original wall colour. An old man smiled warmly at them from behind the counter as Shinji greeted him like he were family.

“This is one of the greatest secrets in this town—the man, Jiro-san, knows every single thing about every record in this store,” Shinji said with distinct glee in his voice before starting to peruse the albums. “I try to bring Momo here every other month—to get new music for the office.”

Toushiro felt his interest pique. For the most part, he had remained silent for the day as Hirako had talked enough about random facts and snippets of his human life to fill the gap. Besides offering a few signs of acknowledgment, Toushiro was happy to have Hirako lead the conversation, so he didn’t have to.

But hearing Momo’s name reminded him that this man had a close relationship with her—and it started at the time that his own relationship with her was strained.

He remembered those initial childish feelings of jealousy, seeming to try to find fault in everything of the new captain. From his asymmetrical haircut to his unsettling smile and tongue piercing, Toushiro didn’t understand how such a sleazy looking character could lead a division, let alone bring Momo out from her lowest point. He knew that it wasn’t smooth in the beginning. But Toushiro watched from a distance as Momo seemed to brighten more and more until she was back to her cheerful self—now with the addition of brazenly admonishing her captain. He was in awe of how quickly she became confident but more so, how comfortable she was with this foreign character.

“How often did you come?” Toushiro asked, trying to not to show too much interest.

Shinji continued on as held an album up, inspecting its tracklist. “Well, Momo wasn’t initially a fan of listening to music in the office. But once I got her started on some Ella Fitzgerald, she started to dig it more. Now she sometimes comes on her own to get records. She’ll surprise me with her own choices—I tell ya’ she’s got an ear for talent. I even got her to agree to go to a jazz festival with the rest of us this summer.”

Toushiro had his back turned, looking down at the labels but not quite seeing their names.

“How did you get her to open up?”

Shinji raised an eyebrow, looking behind him to see the white-haired man staring intently at the music. If he hadn’t seen the rigidity of his back, it may have seemed normal.

Shinji sighed.

“I was just there,” he simply said. “I didn’t leave.”

He watched as the younger man tense up further, before briskly putting down the album and walking out of the store. “I’ll be outside,” Shinji heard called out before the ring of the bell chimed in the silence that ensued at the sudden departure.

Shinji wasn’t surprised, and looking back maybe he could have chosen his words better. But he knew this was something long brewing and coming. He pulled out his phone, typing out a quick text message, as he called out to the store owner. “Jiro-san, I’ll be taking these! You keep me informed of any new vinyl shipments when you get some! My daughter will pick them up.”

--

Shinji found him outside, sitting on the bench in the park, with his hands tucked deep into his jacket. The only signs of life were the soft white puffs of air that he breathed out from above his scarf. Shinji walked over, the grocery bags swinging against his knee and it was only when he was in front of the man that Toushiro seemed to come out of a daze. Toushiro wordlessly accepted the coffee Shinji offered before his turquoise eyes brightened in recognition at the packet in the older man’s other hand.

“Those are the ones that Matsumoto likes…”

Shinji sat down and opened the orange packet. “Yeah, these cookies are really addicting. I introduced them to Momo last time we visited the World of the Living and we haven’t stopped eating them. She must’ve given them to Matsumoto.” He gestured the open packet to the young man, who took the cookie quietly.

They drank their coffee in silence. The golden string lights around them began to flicker as the sky turned to dusk, and like clockwork, it lightly began to snow. Families emerged around the winter street food vendors, talking animatedly as young children ran around, leaving prints in the snow build up.

Shinji could tell Toushiro wanted to say something because his eyes would flit over to him and he’d open his mouth before closing it. But Shinji paid no mind and continued to drink his coffee. He was in no rush at all, he was just waiting for what he knew the young man would say.

“I was jealous of you,” Toushiro finally confessed in a low voice, “of how you were able to make her smile again. You picked her up—when I was the one that hurt her the most.”

Shinji knew there was hurt on both sides. It didn’t take a genius to know that while his lieutenant was adjusting to being back to work, there was still something missing. He could see it in her eyes every time she looked outside at the snow. When there were joint meetings, he would catch her looking towards the tenth company, her sad eyes following the young captain around.

“It wasn’t only me,” Shinji replied. “Matsumoto was always there. Kira & Renji too.” He paused and looked at him straight in the eyes. “But she really wasn’t her full self until you two reconciled.”

“Hirako…”

“Forget your self-pity parade—it’ll do ya no good,” Shinji said, not unkindly. “I’ve been there—it damn hurts, I know. But ya hurt the people you care about more with your absence than with your actions.”

Toushiro stared at Shinji as he took a long sip of coffee. “Get up and move on from your past mistakes; that’s what it means to be a man.” He found himself remembering the way he held Hiyori’s body in his hands, feeling like his world was on a precipice. Never had he ever felt in that moment, the strongest desire to reverse everything, to reverse time itself, before they had changed, before he had ruined their lives forever. It was only when she had hit him with his slipper at his bowed head, that he could see the stupidity in his own wallowing—something he had seen in the young captain too.

“But ya have to promise me one thing—you won’t leave her again,” Shinji spoke with such solemnity that Toushiro’s emerald eyes hardened in determination.

“I won’t.”

The blond man shrugged his shoulder. “Then ya don’t need to apologize to me for nothing.”

Toushiro regarded the man for a long time, before nodding in acceptance.

“Thank you Hirako…for everything.” He had said it so quietly that Shinji thought he almost imagined it.

He smiled in smug satisfaction. “I now give you permission to marry my daughter.”

The young captain scowled, his face turning dark like a thunder cloud. “She is not your daughter.”

“Regardless, you still have my permission,” Shinji waved away.

“Hiarko-taicho!”

The two captains turned to see the fifth division lieutenant running towards them through the crowd, her long hair flowing behind her. Shinji held back a smirk as he watched the young captain stare at the girl in her human clothes, a warm red coat on top of a white dress.

“Hitsugaya-taicho…? What are you doing here?” Momo asked, a furrow in her eyebrows as she looked in confusion between her boyfriend and captain. “I thought I was just meeting Hirako-taicho? You sent a text saying to dress up?”

Shinji applauded himself inwardly for the look on the young captain’s face was priceless.

Before he could say anything else, Shinji gently led his vice-captain away. “Momo, you finished all the reports right?”

“Yes, I made sure to do so, but Taicho why did you call me here?” She looked back at the 10th captain, biting her lip in concern. “Is everything alright with Hitsugaya-kun?”

He could feel the smile slide onto his face at the expression of worry on her face. “Nothing wrong at all—just some good man to man bonding.”

Momo raised an eyebrow dubiously at her captain to which he replied. “I played nice—don’t worry.” He ruffled her hair affectionately. “Go spend the rest of the evening with him. I’ll see you in office on Monday.”

She looked up, her brown eyes in question as she smoothed out her hair. “But what about working tomorrow?”

Shinji threw his thumb back and rolled his eyes in faux exasperation. “You’ve worked enough to take some time off. He’ll sulk if I don’t let you off.”

Momo broke out into a huge grin, her brown eyes twinkling like the glowing lights. “Really?” She paused, as if reconsidering. “But what about the other reports?”

“I’ll go and finish them—you’ve worked enough.”

“Thank you Taicho!” Momo beamed which made him ruffle her hair again as she protested. “You’ve picked a good one—he cares for you.” At this, Momo blushed until her face turned as red as her coat. “Thank you Taicho for agreeing to spend time with him,” she said earnestly. “It really means a lot to me.”

He shrugged his shoulders in defeat. “Ya owe me—I get to choose the music for the next two weeks!”

Momo flashed a brilliant smile. “You got a deal!”

Toushiro smiled as his girlfriend rushed back to him with a bounce in her steps. “I just got a text from Matsumoto saying she booked us a place for tonight? Did Hirako have anything to do about it?” He asked as he tightened the scarf around her neck that had come loose in her run.

“Hirako-taicho,” Momo corrected. “But yes, he said I can have the weekend off so we can spend time together in the human world! Isn’t that wonderful?”

Toushiro took her hand, interlacing his fingers with hers. “Come on—let’s get out of here. There’s a bookstore I want to show you,” he said smiling as her eyes widened in glee, before jumping into a long set of questions on how his day was. And as he answered them, he thought that maybe it wasn’t that bad a day after all.

—

Authour’s Note: So, when I first received the prompt I had to think about it a lot because to be frank, I don’t think Toushiro would ever actually ask Shinji for Momo’s hand in marriage. I think Shinji would just appoint himself to give it hahaha (I also believe that it is referenced that Shinji refers to Momo as his daughter in the novel We do KNOT always love you. I’ll try to find the link soon and update it here)

I’m nervous with this one but I hope people at least enjoyed seeing how the two closest men to Momo see each other (and in a way respect each other) when it comes to her well-being. I definitely enjoyed writing Shinji! It gave me a reason to be antagonistic towards Toushiro in a playful manner but give advice in a straight forward, not unkind way. But I definitely think I still need to practice writing him. I also really enjoyed writing all his errands haha

Hope you enjoyed it!

[pinkhairedlily]

the warmest place in the world

SUMMARY:

I have said I love you. You have said I love you too. The grand climax is over. The tumultuous journey is past and we have arrived in calm waters. It's mundane, ordinary, and silent. But between us, each day, in silent, smallest declarations, we still say, I love you. I love you. I love you.

(in which Hitsugaya and Hinamori are married)

gift for @ryomaunnie 🎁🎄 | @hitsuhina-week

a/n: sorry this got delayed so much!!! i hope i gave justice to your prompt of hh married/domestic life 🥺 belated happy holidays to the community. may you thrive and heal and live gently this 2023 🤍

Hinamori Momo was a winter bride.

One would think it was an inadequate choice; she was always bright and sunny, the very manifestation of a summer’s day.

But warmth has always been indispensable to the cold.

Like her to him. The love of his life. The fire to his ice. His red thread of fate.

She said I do to him under the curtain of snow, and Hitsugaya kissed his wife’s red button nose.

He kisses it all the same on slow mornings when the sun creeps on the Seiretei horizon, limbs all splayed out on the cotton covers, chasing shadows in the crook of each other’s embrace.

He touches it on nights he captures her lips and lets himself melt all over. Momo is my wife, he tells himself as she settles against his chest. Momo is my wife, he repeats again when he wakes up with her hair on his cheeks. Momo is my wife, like a prayer that came true.

— — —

“Which side of the bed do you want, Shiro?” Momo asks as she surveys the bare room. On one side, the window shares the view of the overgrowth. Rose vines and yellow bells fight for space on sparse earth while poison ivy rests comfortably on the concrete walls of the house. It will take some time to tame their backdoor wilderness, but Hitsugaya can see that it would be a beautiful garden in the care of her hands.

“I’ll take the one facing the wall Momo.”

A smile grows from his statement. “Are you sure?”

“Of course.”

"No take backs."

He smirks. "I don't do that."

"You'll roll me over!"

He holds up a pinky. She always made him do this when they were younger. "Promise. Stop being so insufferable. You're so cute when you're adamant."

"Ugh, so sappy all of a sudden." She giggles — that's all he wants to hear really — and laughter fills the crevices of the old house.

Under the futon that night, surrounded with boxes both closed and halfway open, Momo stares out the curtainless window to the unobstructed view of the full moon. She falls asleep after the fifth shooting star.

Meanwhile, Hitsugaya has the perfect perspective of her face; how she surrenders to the drowse, how her breathing evens out, and how she smiles in her dreams. Not all nights are like this.

Sometimes, the dreams are nightmares.

And he refuses to touch her in the aftermath.

He can vividly feel his hand — Hyourinmaru — go through her chest. His quickening pulse matches the spewing blood from her body. When it's emptied, there's a hollow instead of where her heart should be.

He goes frigid, his own pulse also frozen in shock, despair, some kind of indescribable grief. Then he jolts out of that plane when he feels her, the present her, draw his arm around her body. Calm and steady, her . In between the void and wakefulness, she forgives him.

Figures lost in crowd, that's what they look like on market days. She reaches out to him in the sea of bodies, intertwining his fingers with hers. It's a mindless gesture for Momo, but Hitsugaya feels tethered.

His hand in her. His soul is anchored.

———

"Tadaima."

10:07. Hitsugaya left Karakura around that time. Ichigo is boisterous, the usual, but even more so with the second addition to their family.

They broke the news over Orihime's okonamiyaki. A hefty dash of Ichigo's tears made it into the cooking. She made sure to pack portions for Hinamori.

Who happens to be burning her own okonamiyaki in the kitchen.

"Ah. I messed it up." She's near tears. "Did you have dinner yet, Shiro?"

He places the package on the counter and wounds his arm around her waist. She curls further into herself, sobs on the verge of escaping every limb, but he holds her close and whispers into her ear. "Yeah you burned it but I think it's still edible."

Still entangled with her, he samples a small part from the smoking brown concoction on the stove. Placid reaction gives way to strong grimace. "See, edible."

Momo groans. "I hate you Shiro."

"I love you Momo." His laughter resounds against her untangled hair. Smooth, flowing strands shaking as sobs transform into fits of amusement.

She faces him after a while. "Did you bring earth food?"

He nods. "It's not your favorite pizza, but Orihime's cooking is better than most."

"What did she cook?"

"Okonomiyaki." Her face falls flat from the sudden reminder of her failure. It disappears from his view when he pulls her in for a tight embrace.

Like earlier, his voice travels through her strands, wind to the leaves, water to sand, "Listen. You may not perfect every dish. You may mess up some things. You may not know how to repair the heater. Or keep planks straight when you hammer them in. Dogs may not like you. But you brew the best tea and coffee. You knit the warmest scarves. You sow the most beautiful flowers. The cats love to rub against you. You are my wife and I love you for all that you are."

"You talk so much," she groans against his shoulder. "I'm just hungry."

They laugh again, just as easily.

———

"Good... morning, taichou."

Normally, it would be Matsumoto slumped against Hitsugaya's shoulders, but on rare occasions that he would go drinking with Shinji (forced really) and his circle, Hitsugaya would always, always, return home intoxicated beyond his limits.

And her captain would always, always, bring this drunken stupor to her doorstep.

Even when they were still branding themselves as childhood best friends ("Of course, we would look out for each other.") When they were sidestepping the line that separates friendly concern to affection. A series of drunken declarations when he thought she was asleep, forgotten in the wake of the mornings as he casually slipped, unaffected, nonchalant, almost stoic from her quarters. ("Do you know, Momo, that I like you? I like you. I like you very, very, very much. I don't know what to do with these feelings. Momo, how do I tell you?") When they thought it was their best, well-kept secret in Soul Society. ("Way to announce you're mine, Shiro, banging on my door like that at 2 AM, calling me your darling?!") It was the best, well-shared secret.

"Hirako, you dumbassss. Why did you bring me to Momo? I'm a mess, look at me," Hitsugaya drawls over his words.

"Don't puke on her when you kiss, all right." Shinji winks at his lieutenant and bids adieu effectively in the dead silence of the night.

"I'm not gonna kisssss yew." Hitsugaya raises his palm and slaps it across his chest. "I am a good sssenpai. And a taichou. And I will not take advantage of yew."

"Shut up and go inside already."

He spots the gold band when she pulls his arm. He's sniffling by the time he makes it to their kitchen.

"Why did I wait so long?"

"Wait to come home?" Hinamori patiently goes through the same motions he does when she's drunk. Boil water. Brew some tea. Sober up.

"Wait to tell you I love you." His sniffles are louder, close to sobbing. "I've always wanted you to be my wife. Gods, I'm so stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid."

"I won't disagree with you on this." This happens every time, and each repeat just makes her fonder of him.

And yes, more annoyed.

But he's endearing when he's moping so he gets a pass.

He clutches her hand tightly. "Is he a good man? Does he love you more than I do? Are you happy?"

Hinamori leans in closer to his space. From this distance, she can smell the alcohol mingling with fresh pine and snow she associates him with. Her palms cup his drooping, tear-stricken face.

"He is a good man that loves me so much and makes me happy every day. I wouldn't have it any other way."

Then she kisses him as he does on nights she doubts his love. A seal of sorts, a magic touch that dispels the stormy clouds, a kiss.

"Momo, you're a married woman."

"And you're my husband, Hitsugaya-taichou."

———

The snipping of scissors molds with the hummingbirds perched on the blossoming dogwood.

Silver specks litter the hardwood floor. Momo's barefoot protrudes through the strands, his shoulders as her balance.

Her tongue peeks out in concentration as she trims the lengthened threads. It's easy to fall asleep on this cool, spring day while her fingers conduct an orchestra with his hair.

"Do you want an undercut?"

"Please don't make me look like Ichigo or Renji."

"Kira and Yumichika said it's fashionable."

"So why don't they say that to Byakuya?"

"Byakuya has a distinct style."

"And I don't? I'm offended."

"I think you look good in any hair."

"That's what wives say."

She brandishes a mirror in front of him. A relieved sigh leaves him when he sees no noticeable changes. "Great job, Ms. Hinamori. I'll give you a tip."

She kneels in front of him and rests her head on his lap. Her hair falls like waves on the side of his leg. Untangled in her braid, it's a shiny mane. They slip when he twirls his finger around them. "Cut my hair too, Shiro."

"Rukia-style? Or Yumichika?"

"Just don't shave me."

Cut hairs all gone and away and napes exposed to the blossom breeze, they spend the fading afternoon in the awning of the garden. Momo is asleep in his arms, her face dotted with pink petals, and the leaves playing across her features.

Hitsugaya mindlessly traces circles on her arm, navigating to her stomach where a shawl is splayed over. She knitted this some shinigami years ago and the fabric seems to call for his touch. To trace the same shape over and over until he feels the indentation. The slight slope he might miss in passing.

Adrift petals lay their rest right where his hand stopped orbiting.

"Momo?"

She only smiles and places her hand over his, flowers blooming in between the spaces of their fingertips.

"Shiro?"

His throat is heavy. "I'm gonna be a good father." He kisses the crown of her head, and they snuggle closer until twilight takes over the sky.

———

Fireflies are luminescent under the bridge. The river murmurs in the dark, continuing their voyage to the sea with the green attraction fading in their reflection, a memory drowned.

Momo wanted to rest. Rukia warned her about sore feet and wonky legs in the last few months of the pregnancy.

Hitsugaya would have wanted to carry her back home, if she let him. He's sulking from her stubbornness.

"It's peaceful tonight." Momo breathes in the changing summer air. Autumn has started to dispel its first notes.

"It's peaceful," Hitsugaya echoes. He embraces her from behind, his hands crossed like a prayer over her stomach. "I'm glad it's peaceful."

"But what if there's war again?"

It's not as if Hitsugaya hadn't thought of this already. It haunted his nights. It's a possibility on the back of his head when he attends council meetings, signs paperworks, reads reports. Always on the lookout for the first triggers.

It's a hard thing to keep — peace.

"Then there's another reason to fight for." But sometimes, it comes by easy. "For now, this is peace to me."

The fireflies steer towards their direction. Alight and luminous, their reflections are carried by the currents, a memory in voyage.

———

"Cold!!!!" Hanami bolts through the door. A child around five with brown hair covered in snow and teal irises that are so honest and bare and earnest. There's unbridled happiness in her eyes.

"Can you at least tone down that blush whenever you come home from Byakuya's estate?" Hitsugaya sighs.

"That's because of cold, Shiro," Momo reasons out from the kitchen.

"He made me tea, Papa!"

"As he does to all his guests?"

"No! It's the special tea!" She sticks out her tongue at her father while she quickly shrugs off her outerwear. Then her little feet urgently pad off to settle beside him in the kotetsu. "When I grow up, I'm gonna marry Uncle Byakuya!"

"He's old, Hana-chan."

"No, he's not! He's still handsome!"

"You have poor taste in men, my silly girl."

Momo sweeps into the room with a tray of tea. "That's too bad. You don't have room for Mama's special tea?"

"I have, Mama. The snow outside evaporated the tea earlier." She pats the little space beside her. "Sit Mama! It's cold!"

Lulled in drowse by tea, the family lies side by side on the floor, legs all tangled up under the kotatsu, as the snowstorm builds to a precipice outside.

"Did you enjoy painting with Byakuya?" Hitsugaya asks the growing babe on his shoulder.

Hanami nods. "He was worried I'd get snowed in."

Momo blows raspberries on Hanami's hair. "Was it cold, Hana-chan?"

"Very! He made me wear another coat. It was difficult to walk." She mimics shaking terribly but only ends up laughing. It's contagious, feeling the giggles travel the course of her skin and limbs, and unto her parents.

"Papa never gets cold, right Mama?" Hanami places her hand over their entangled fingers on her stomach.

"No, he never does."

"Are you cold right now, Hana-chan? Do you want me to move away?" Hitsugaya almost shifts out of their hold, but his daughter plants him to his side.

"Silly Papa! You're always so warm." Her button nose red from the cold, and her cheeks flushed pink, Hanami pulls her parents closer to her. "This is the warmest place in the world."

[bleachbleachbleach]

Fic: Some Things

This fic is for @canariie​ for the @hitsuhina-week​ Gift Exchange! She asked for something fluffy and HitsuHina in the Living World together. I have tried my best to deliver! <3

Title: Some Things Characters: Hinamori, Hitsugaya Word Count: ~3000 Summary: Hinamori heads to the Living World with a top secret special mission from her captain, with secret codes and scavenger hunts involved. Accompaniment: Hitsugaya, on "personal business." Three objects, two people, and one long conversation about everything and nothing. (Post-TYBW))

1. Something you’d kill for

2. Something you’d die for

And 3. —

[Read on AO3]

[hitsuhina-week]

Start posting for the Hitsuhina Gift Exchange!

Don't forget to tag the person you created a gift for or message them with a link to their gift! Also include in your tags on the post 'hitsuhina gift exchange 2022'.

For any late submissions, the person you're creating a gift for has been notified. If you think your submission will be late, please let me know asap!

[rays-of-fire-and-ice]

Horizons

Hitsuhina Gift Exchange 2022

Prompt: a song inspired creation

Rating: K+/General with some mature themes and mentions of violence/blood

Setting: A few days after the end of the TYBW arc, but there are flashbacks, two set before the main story, one between the end of the Fake Karakura Town and the beginning of the Lost Agent arcs. Basically, any scenes in italics are set in the past.

Synopsis: During the first days of reconstruction, Hitsugaya and Hinamori decide to visit the Junrinan. Along the way, Hitsugaya comes to realisation.

AN: @rainfestive, thank you for this prompt! I must admit, I had the basic idea for this fic before the gift exchange, but this prompt got me listening to music, and several songs helped inspire the completed story. The main songs that provided inspiration were I Was Born for This by Austin Wintory, Catharsis by Vishal Naidu & Dan Caine, and My Universe by Coldplay x BTS. The other songs included: She Lit a Fire by Lord Huron, compassion from the BLEACH ost, Snowfield from the Clannad ost, and going home from the BLEACH ost.

I wanted create a fic that conveyed the same softness that your fanart does, and I’ve hopefully succeeded in doing that (well, this fic actually has a pretty angsty start, but it does get fluffy I promise!). In a way, this is a spiritual prequel to It’s Been a While, but honestly, this was meant to be it’s own thing, so feel free to consider the two stories linked or not. Also:

I know it’s stated that the Seireitei needed reconstruction after the Quincy War, but there’s nothing concrete about whether the Rukongai was also badly damaged or not. However, for the sake of this story, sections of it were and need to be reconstructed.

A kokeshi doll is a traditional Japanese toy. The Rukongai seems to have traditional Japanese toys (like spinning tops, which Toshiro used to play with), so I figured they likely have this kind of toy there too.

Hasukappu is the Japanese name given to blue honeysuckle.

Also, I may or may not have been inspired by @canariie's fic trepidation at one point (for those who have read it, you’ll know it when you see it).

I hope you, Rain, and everyone else enjoy this!

__________________________________

Toshiro doesn’t flinch at the blast of freezing wind. The bare branches above and below him rattle, and the first snow falls from the dark grey clouds over the Junrinan in erratic spirals.

Only a few souls wonder the streets and alleyways of the first district, keeping their heads low and wearing multiple layers against the wind. Most souls can’t withstand the cold at this time of the day, with most choosing to stay indoors around a fire. The orange glow emitting from within most houses is bright against the still dark morning.

He again wonders what the lives of those inside is like. Are they still asleep or waking up? Do they all sit around the fire as they eat breakfast? Did they have anything they worked towards? Did any of them feel alone or different from the rest?

He shakes his head; the train of thought is useless to follow.

As the dawn mist gradually thins, he gets a better view of the whole Junrinan and the second district. A slice of the sunrise manages to peak through the clouds and he raises his hand to shade his eyes. Some of the houses in its way are bathed in a yellow-pink glow and the snow on their roofs glimmers.

Below, a soul treads into the light's path cast over one of the Junrinan's main streets. A girl, from what Toshiro can tell, wrapped up in a blanket that almost touches the ground. She avoids the growing piles of snow gathering on the sides of the road and her breaths fog in the air. Her strides are purposeful, enough to go against the harsh wind and cold. Why would she be out at this time? Was she going to go into the forests and find some firewood? Or food? She wouldn't need the main road for either of those things. She could be a new soul, left to her own devices to find a place to stay.

Toshiro shakes his head again; another useless train of thought.

At the growing tension in his chest, he begins to climb down the tree. He tells himself it’s because he needs to get back to Granny, she’d be awake soon. If he were honest with himself, it was because if the girl were to look to her right, there’s a good chance she’d spot him, and possibility of that makes him uncomfortable.

___________________________________

The kokeshi doll rolls away from Toshiro’s foot. He watches it tumble over chips of debris until it bounces off the ruins of the house it likely belonged to. Unlike many of the buildings surrounding it, this one still had most of its roof intact. One of its walls was obliterated, lying in chunks splayed out across the ground, with various broken and torn housewares scattered amongst remains.

Toshiro steps over the wreckage and stays bent over after he picks up the toy, shading it from the late afternoon sun. Paint had scratched off in various places and there’s a small chunk gone from the top of the head, but it’s otherwise remarkably in good condition compared to the other objects scattered about.

He hears Rangiku’s footsteps coming towards him before she calls out. “Captain, we have an update on assessment for the thirteenth district!”

Toshiro rises as his lieutenant nears. “Go on.”

It’s like almost every other report he’s received: buildings completely leveled or caved in, some souls have injuries being tended to by the squadron sent by Fourth Division, but thankfully no casualties for this one. He can’t say the same for this district.

As Rangiku continues to give the details, his gaze involuntarily wonders to the souls a short distance over her shoulder. There’s about twenty of them all underneath a temporary shelter, all in various states of disarray. They’d been given fresh clothes, and behind them, some of his unseated officers are preparing food rations. They watch as the Shinigami comb through the remains of their homes, and the only thing stopping them from joining in are the seated officers keeping them from interfering in the assessment. A few officers remain silent, the rest are trying to offer comfort or reassurances, but they’re falling on deaf ears.

Toshiro’s brow furrows deeper when he spots a young boy, his dark hair in whipped in all directions and wearing a clean yukata. The boy had been staring at him with widened eyes. At being caught, his shoulders rise and he’s quick to shift his gaze to the ruined house the doll belonged to. At his crumbling expression, Toshiro knows this was once his home, and the toy is his.

It's not the first time he has seen that kind of expression in the last week, nor will it be the last. All the lives of the souls here are forever changed, and he doesn’t blame the resentment he sees in some of them. He’d been up at the Palace, had tried to stop as much debris as he could from falling on to the Soul Society, but he couldn't stop all of it.

“Sir?”

Toshiro blinks and is quick to bring his attention back to Rangiku. “Thank you for the update, Matsumoto. Send…No, ask the assessment team to return to here and help with distributing resources. When you’ve done that, bring back whatever written reports you’ve completed to here. We'll finish for the day after the food rations have been given out.” When Rangiku doesn’t leave, he fully turns to her. “Was there anything else?”

Perhaps she’s caught off guard by the way he speaks; in other circumstances he’d be more relaxed with his tone and his choice of words, but it didn’t feel right to be anything other than direct and authoritative right now.

“Captain…” Rangiku purses her lips. It’s only then he notices how frazzled her hair is, it’s so out of character for her. But then, it was hard to be one’s self in the aftermath of something this destructive. Toshiro waits, and it’s a moment later when whatever hesitation she has disappears.

“Everything’s been set up here," she says. "After the assessment team comes back, we’ll have enough to keep things under control.”

“What are you getting at?”

“You should take a break. You’ve been up since dawn and haven’t stopped once all day, or even all of yesterday for that matter.”

He half expected her concern - the bags under his eyes become more apparent each day – and she hadn’t been the only one. Some of his seated officer, though they tried to hide it, showed their concern yesterday and this morning. It came out in the small smiles they give him and the over enthusiasm they have to some tasks he assigns, as if to assure him they are more than capable and that he can rest easy. But he sees the way their shoulders weigh down, the hardness or sorrow in their eyes when they think he isn’t looking. “I’ll rest once all the assessments are completed.”

She glances at the doll in his hand. Something about it makes her sigh. “You always tell others to know their limits, but never yourself.”

“I know my limits,” he responds curtly. “You don’t have to --”

“Yo, Captain Hitsugaya!”

Both swerve in the direction of Shinji’s call. Several officers from the Fifth Division approach, and in the middle of them are their captain and Momo. The latter doesn’t notice either of them, too preoccupied with giving instructions to her surrounding subordinates, but the former waves at them.

Toshiro tucks the doll away into his sleeve. “What’s he doing here?” he wonders under his breath.

With their impending argument interrupted, Rangiku smiles. “They have jurisdiction for the district next door. They might just be passing by.”

Whatever Momo instructed her subordinates to do, half march off down a nearby alleyway while the others remain. It’s then she spots them and gestures for her officers to wait.

“Afternoon you two,” Shinji greets.

Momo comes over to them, but unlike Shinji, her grin doesn’t reach her eyes. “Hello Rangiku-san, Hitsug – I mean, Captain Hitsugaya.”

Toshiro would voice his surprise that she actually called him by his title, but this isn’t the time or place. “Doing assessment for the west ninth district I assume?” he asks Shinji.

“Just finished it actually.”

“Then are you here to discuss the proposal for repairs in north districts twenty through to twenty-five?”

Shinji’s grin wobbles and he raises a brow. “Geez, ain’t that a bit early? Pretty sure Head Captain said we didn’t need to get to work on that until two months in at the latest. Are you ahead of schedule already?”

“No, just planning.”

“Well, regardless, we ain’t here for that. We’re actually on our way back to the Seireitei to write up assessment reports for districts nine and ten. However, I think Hinamori and I are feeling a little generous and have some time to spare. Did you guys need any help here?”

“We were going to offer help regardless,” Momo quickly adds.

Toshiro folds his arms. “Thank you for the offer, but we don’t need-”

“I think we’ll take you up on that!”

For the first time since returning from the Palace, Toshiro breaks the authoritative air he’d been putting on, blinking up at his lieutenant in bewilderment. “Matsumoto?”

Rangiku keeps going as if she hadn’t noticed the change in his demeanor. “See, I need to go get the assessment team from the thirteenth district and also pick up some reports, and the Captain needs to take a break.”

“Wha? I don’t-”

“Everything here is mostly set up, and we’d ask our third seat to watch over things, but he’s with the assessment team. So, we just need someone to watch over our officers while we’re both away.”

“We need no such thing!” Toshiro looks to his fellow captain. “I don’t need a break, Matsumoto is speaking out of turn.”

Rangiku gives an indignant huff while Shinji lists his head to the side. “Well, when was the last time you took a break?” he asks.

“It’s not necessary, I can still oversee things here. As is, I assume you’ll need to write up those reports as soon as you get back, so don’t let us keep you.”

Shinji’s eyes narrow, but before he can speak up, Momo steps forward. “A-Actually, Captain, weren’t you saying we should take a break before we start on those reports? I was going to ask if I could walk to the Junrinan. I know it’s not one of the damaged districts, but there’s some friends I need to visit.”

Shinji blinks at his lieutenant’s interruption, but with the rising tension diffused, he nods. “Fine by me, just make sure you’re back in an hour for the reports.”

“Of course.” Then to Toshiro, with a renewed, softer smile. “Perhaps you’d like to join me, Captain Hitsugaya? I know you feel responsible for what’s happening here, but there’s someone you’ve wanted to see, right?”

Likely unintentionally, her words make guilt flare up in him. He’d wanted to go see Granny as soon as he’d arrived back in the Seireitei. What had become of the Junrinan? Was she all right? He’d sprint to there if he could, but duty bound him to the Seireitei. He barely contained his relief when he heard in the report the next day it was one of fifteen higher level districts that hadn’t been damaged during the war. He couldn’t visit her until the assessment is completed, but it didn’t stop the urge to drop everything and visit her.

“Can imagine you’d have friends you wanna see, yeah?” Shinji remarks. “I’ve told my subordinates to take their breaks to go visit anyone they need to in the Rukongai, and I’m sure you’ve told others to do the same in your division.” He shrugs. “I reckon us captains can grant ourselves the same if things are under control in our jurisdictions, and you’ve clearly got that going on here.”

“Hirako…”

“Besides, I owe you for saving Hinamori and I back up at the Palace. She told me about what happened after I got knocked out.”

He glances at his childhood friend, who gives a rueful roll of her eyes and a shrug.

“I didn’t just enter that battle to save you two,” he clarifies.

“I know, but regardless, you saved us from being crushed by that giant. So, least I can do is help you out a little while we’ve still got the time to.”

“That’s actually a good point,” Rangiku adds. “This’ll be the best opportunity you have. You know that once we get into the repairs, we’ll have even less free time.”

Toshiro isn’t sure what he hates more: that he’s made others worry or that his resolve is waning. He wants to argue back, but then Momo fixes him with that gaze – the one that’s half pleading and half concerned – and he’s useless to dismiss it.

He unfolds his arms with a huff. “Fine, I’ll only be gone for an hour.” Rangiku gasps with a grin, but he stops her from saying anything with a sharp gaze. “If anything happens, you send a Hell Butterfly right away. Understood?”

“Yes, sir!”

Shinji’s own grin returns. “Well, it’s settled. I’ll stick around here until Matsumoto returns, then head back to Fifth. Take good care of my lieutenant, yeah? She's been working a lot lately."

Momo shakes her head, exasperated. "Honestly, sir."

Toshiro rolls his eyes. "She's capable of doing that herself."

With a chuckle, Shinji jerks his chin at Rangiku as he half turns away. “Mind giving me an overview of what’s going on here before you run off?”

Rangiku nods and joins him as he returns to his waiting officers.

Toshiro watches them go, but his attention is drawn away when Momo comes to his side. It’s just the two of them now, and the thought makes him nervous for some reason.

“Shall we go, Hitsugaya-kun?” she asks.

“Already dropping the title, are we?” he half grumbles.

“Sorry, force of habit.”

“You don’t look one bit sorry.” With a sigh, he goes to lead the way. “I guess the quickest route would be…”

A jostle in his sleeve stops him. Without thinking, he sticks his hand into his uniform. How had he forgotten about it?

Momo tilts her head when he faces the group of souls under the shelter. “What’s wrong?”

The child stares at them, had probably watched the entire exchange from before. He bites his lip at being caught a second time.

No, they can’t leave just yet. He hates to ask her to do anything for him, but this is better suited for someone like her.

Toshiro digs his hand into his sleeve. “I was going to ask Matsumoto to do this before she left, but I may need you to do it instead.”

Momo raises both brows; it’s a rare occurrence for him to ask her for anything. “What is it?”

Toshiro holds out the doll. “Can you give this to him?” he requests, tipping his head at the boy. “I think it’s his.”

She glances at the child, then at the remains of his house over her shoulder. “Why don’t you do it?”

“It’d be better coming from you.”

Her hand hovers over his for several beats, but she surprises him when she rolls his fingers over the doll. “You’re the one who found it, you should give it back to him.”

Why? The question must show on his face, because she lets out a weak chuckle. “It’ll be okay.”

She doesn’t elaborate further, but they need to get a move on, and he won’t push her to do this. Taking a deep inhale in, he approaches the crowd, and slows his steps once he’s within a few meters of the boy. The child is trying to decide whether to cower away or stand his ground as he approaches.

To calm him, Toshiro holds the doll out before he comes to a stop. “I’m guessing this is yours.”

As if expecting this to be a trick, the boy hesitates. A woman comes up behind the child and rests a protective hand on his shoulder while bowing.

“I’m sorry about my son, Captain,” she says, her voice on the brink of quivering. “He didn’t mean to stare.”

Toshiro shakes his head and gestures for her to rise. “It’s fine.”

Reassured by his mother’s presence, the boy takes the toy back. The moment he touches it, his anxiety starts to ease. He examines the faults in it, seemingly forgetting a high-ranking Shinigami stands before him. He fingers the dent in the top, and fights a disappointed frown from forming. Something about it tugs at Toshiro, and squats down to the child’s height, capturing his gaze once more.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t stop this,” he says. “It will be a long time before you have a house again, but we're working to make sure it'll be sooner rather than later." He points to the toy. "Hang on to that in the meantime, don’t let it go. There will come a day when you can get others to join it.”

Heat rises up the back of his neck as he senses the eyes of all the residents on him. Most are surprised, others are skeptical. To have a Shinigami admit fault and apologise is a rare thing; they’re viewed as too prideful or out of touch or secretive to do such a thing by most district residents. If only they knew what they’d been like when the Quincy invaded, the fear and determination his officers showed. For a moment, Toshiro allows the thought to roam in his mind before he banishes it.

He stands and gives a bow with his head. “If any of you need basic supplies, my officers will assist.”

He tries to turn and stride as naturally as he can back to Momo, resisting the urge to spin on his heel and rush down the forest path they’re going to take to the Junrinan. A new wave of heat rushes up to his cheeks, but this time it’s because of the tender smile Momo gives him when he approaches.

___________________________________

Toshiro scowls at the cracked rooftiles next to his foot. A few pieces had dislodged, revealing the wooden rafters beneath. “Going to have to replace those,” he mutters. “How long have they been like that?”

He stares at them for several heartbeats before going a few feet further up the roof. Once he reaches the top, he sits on ridge, takes in a long breath, and leans back with closed eyes. It’s the first moment of quiet he’s had in a whole month.

However, as if to remind him of where he should really be, the wind lifts up the ends of his haori behind him. Opening his eyes, he rests his elbows on his knees and picks at the new addition to his uniform. Despite being a relatively light garment, it still feels heavy to wear. He never considered himself to be the type to indulge in metaphors or analogies, but there might be something to say for the weight of the job weighing down on ones shoulders. With a sigh, he lifts his gaze.

He’s not sure where his inclination to go to high places came from, nor does he understand why he continues to make it a habit. Somehow, it felt right to climb tree and sit in their branches as a child, and then to perch himself on his old home’s rooftop. The latter he can chalk up to feeling protective of Granny, believing that having a vantage point to see everyone and everything ensured he could warn her of anything; but the former, he still can't figure out why he did it. A part of him always wanted to watch over everything, and being above everything somehow felt right. The tallest height he'd gotten to was in a tree in the Jurinan forests, and it allowed him to see all the way to the tenth district.

Now, he’s on the tallest building in the Tenth Division, and it gives him a view of the Seireitei all the way to the Eastern Gate. There was a time where he was on the other side of that gate, and the Seiretei was just a part of the horizon he looked out towards. It strange to think he has ended up on the other side, and to feel less lonely than he was when he was outside of it.

He distracts himself from the thought by watching the Shinigami out and about. Most are on the ground, weaving their way between buildings, not in any rush to get where they need to. Some have stopped in courtyards and gardens, gathering in groups for training or lunch. Not too far away, the instructions of his third seat reach his ears, his voice coming from one of the dojos.

Others are on the balconies and verandas, coming and going, but he doubles back when he spots Momo and Aizen. They’re two small figures in the distance, but he can make out that they're walking on the second floor balcony of Ninth Division’s main barracks, talking about something that makes Momo smile.

Toshiro rolls his eyes. Even from all the way up here, her feelings towards her captain are obvious, and Aizen is probably too polite to bring it up. He finds himself lingering on that thought, but he doesn’t understand why he’d care.

She’s his oldest friend, and he cares about her wellbeing. That’s as far as it went.

He shakes his head, shoving the thought aside. As is, in this new role, he’ll see her even less, and he tries to ignore the tiny pang at the thought. He’s never known how to keep friends, and when Momo found a goal all those decades ago, they’d drifted apart. Now that they each have a goal, it won’t surprise him if they drift even further.

_________________________________________

“Hasukappu grows here?”

Toshiro says nothing as Momo fawns over the vegetation. They’d been walking on the path through the undergrowth for a few minutes when she spotted the hasukappu plants. It’s the happiest he’s seen her since they got back to the Seireitei, and he fears speaking up will break it.

“For some reason, I always thought it was just in the south and north districts. I could make a jam out of these!” Momo goes to pick one of the dark blue fruits but stops. “Ah, maybe not, actually. The locals probably come to harvest these, right? Like we used to in the Junrinan.”

He gestures to the several shrubs chock full of the fruit. “Likely, but it won’t hurt if you pick some, there will be plenty left. Besides, these look they’ve just been growing in the wild, and the animals probably eat them too.”

Momo looks up and down the uneven line of shrubbery. Eventually, she plucks one off a stem. “Maybe just fifteen of them. It probably won’t be enough to make jam, but maybe some candies.”

He watches her pick the fruit off the shrubs and piles them into cloth bag she kept in her uniform, and it occurs to him that with the exception of the rustling of the branches and leaves from the occasional gust wind, it’s quiet. Life is vibrant here, from the lush green grass lined on either side of the dirt path to the small animals that scurry or fly away when they hear them coming. The greenery around them hadn’t been touched by the war, as if frozen in time.

However, it’s in quiet moments like this – mostly before he’s about to go to sleep - that his mind buzzes with everything he hasn’t yet done. Did he truly have the right to be here in the peaceful quiet while the souls in the Rukongai were waiting for their homes to be rebuilt?

“There, that should do it.” Momo tucks the cloth bag back into her uniform. She starts walking again without looking back at him. “The Junrinan is twenty minutes from here, right?”

Snapping out of his thoughts, Toshiro follows her. “Yes.”

He stays behind her as they head up an incline. Her gait is not what it used to be; in the months after her recovery at Fourth Division, she’s had a more subdued walk, the weight of everything weighing her down. In the few months before the Quincy invasion, she walked as if lighter than air, like how she used to before Aizen’s betrayal. Now, there’s a heaviness in each step, but her shoulders are high, determined.

It begs him to ask, “How have you been?”

Momo looks over at him. “As well as I can be. It’s been busy, of course. We’ve completed assessment for half of the districts under our jurisdiction. We’ve been lucky most have more injured than dead, but even so…” She sighs. “The truth is I haven’t had moments rest myself until now.”

 “Dummy!”

“I could say the same for you, couldn’t I?” It’s not an accusation, but an almost resigned fact she knew all too well about him. At his rueful silence, she gives him an uneasy smile. “We have to do so much right now, but we haven’t had the time to do it all. Captain Hirako makes sure everyone has something to do, that we all carry the load of everything. I’m sure you’re the same, but you…you also tend to take on too much, Hitsugaya-kun.”

“It’s because I can.”

The corners of her lips fall. “I think everyone’s struggling to rest right now. We need to put these repairs first, of course, but we also need to take time to rest.” She turns to look ahead “Hopefully things will quiet down soon.”

They both know that is a pipedream. It’s already been estimated the reconstruction of the Rukongai will take over three years to complete, and the Seireitei’s even longer.

This was a bad idea. She did this to him, made him lower whatever walls he builds and rethink what his priorities should be. What should he focus on first? The living or the dead? The survivors or the officers who gave their lives? He’d almost lost count of how many had been cremated or buried, but he has that number clear in his mind every time he gets ready for the day.

There’s a low swaying branch in their way. She holds it aside for Toshiro as she asks, “What about you, Hitsugaya-kun? Have you not been sleeping well?”

He almost touches the bags under his eyes. “I’ve been sleeping enough. Something just woke me up last night.”

“What was it?”

“A dream.”

“Do remember what it was about?”

“…Not really.”

It only comes to him in bits and pieces, but his dreams of when he wasn’t in control of his body shake him to the core every time. Glimpses of Yumichika and Ikkaku come, and the voice of the Quincy who had forced her blood into him echoes in each. He needn’t burden Momo or anyone else with those dreams, everyone has enough on their minds as is.

Realising he isn’t going to elaborate; Momo drops the subject. “What about progress with damage assessment?”

“We have five districts left to assess, then reconstruction will begin next week.”

“So you are ahead of schedule!”

 “Only by a day.”

“It’s still amazing progress.”

They trek down a short incline, which flattens out to the banks for a creek. The path continues on the other side.

“Is there a way across?” Momo asks, taking a wary step towards the stream.

“It’s normally okay to jump over it, the water is running quicker than I remember.”

“It might be because of the rain from yesterday. There was a lot, more than Twelfth predicted.” She says something under her breath, but Toshiro can make out, “You could’ve probably gauged it better.”

Rather than shown he heard her, Toshiro assesses, looking from one end of the creek to the other. “There.” He points to a section several feet away, the two sides closer than any other party near them.

“When was the last time you were here?” she asks as they make their way.

It takes him a moment to recall. “When I’d been promoted to seventh seat.”

“For a mission, I’m guessing?”

“Investigating Hollow activity in the region.”

Those seem like simpler times now, quaint even. He’d known Hollows attacks, had seen a few fellow Shinigami die to them. For some reason, he didn’t think he’d go on to see much more death or destruction in his life.

“That would’ve been about thirty years ago,” Momo muses. “It doesn’t feel like it’s been that long. Time really flew by, huh?”

When they reach the edge of the creek, Toshiro holds up a hand before Momo can make a move. “I’ll go first.”

She gives a bemused chuckle. At his deepening frown, she explains, “This reminds me of what you used to do when we were children. Whenever we’d have to cross a gap, you always insisted on going first.”

He lets out a wordless grumble as he recalls those moments. “I was always the better jumper, and you always got nervous about making big jumps. In case you fell, someone had to be on the other side.”

She gives him a mock offended 'humph'. “And you think that’ll be the case here too?”

Toshiro goes to argue back, but an idea comes to him. Without warning, he whips away from her and runs for the creek before leaping over the water. When he lands in a crouch on the other side, he smirks at her while he rises. “Prove otherwise.”

Momo’s surprise gives way to a haughty smirk. Playfully, she sets up to run, stretching one leg behind her and raising her arms to her sides. His smirk widens, and an amused chuckle almost makes it to his lips. More than that though, he can’t help his protective instincts. He’s ready to dash forward and catch her in case she slips. Without thinking, he moves closer to his side’s edge and even raises his hand for her to grab on to.

She shakes her head. “No need.”

And with that, she runs to the creek. With a small cry of exertion, she leaps over the water. Her arms cartwheel through the air, and her hair flies behind her. She goes higher than he did, her feet well and truly avoiding the water, even the small droplets that splash up from hitting any rocks in the water’s way.

He stumbles back, almost losing his footing as he tries to give her space. She lands on her feet with a loud ‘thump’, half crouched and hands raised in front of her. She doesn’t move from her exaggerated pose, looking as if she were about to sit back into a chair.

They snort at the same time. They look at each other, surprised that the other reacted. Then, as if a flood gate opened, they laugh. Momo almost doubles over, straightening enough to rest her hands on her knees, while Toshiro smacks a hand over his mouth, trying and failing to cover up his laughter.

“What was that?” he asks.

“I don’t know!” she chortles. “I think I got competitive and tried to jump higher than you!”

“That wasn’t the point!”

“But I did it! Both landing and getting higher than you!”

By the time their laughter dies down, his stomach aches. When was the last time he’d laughed so hard, and why over something so silly and small? Maybe he was losing his mind, but if that were the case, at least he isn’t the only one.

They smile at each other while they try to catch their breath. Aside from the one she gave him before they started their trek, it’s the most genuine smiles he’s seen from her in a while, and for a moment he allows himself to be deluded with the idea that just as she can lower his internal walls, he can do the same for her too. In this moment she isn’t the dutiful, hard-working lieutenant, but the girl who always dragged him out on adventures and got easily riled up.

But that silence creeps back in, making his smile fall. What was he doing? He couldn’t be like this, not when he had houses and the Seireitei to rebuild, the dead to bury and mourn for. At her faltering smile, he knows she thinks the same, and he wishes it wasn’t the case. After everything she went through, guilt should be the last thing she suffers from.

He takes a few tentative strides back towards where the path resumes. “Let’s keep going, it’ll be dark soon.”

When he doesn’t hear her follow, he looks over his shoulder. Her head bowed, it’s clear she’s lost in thought. With a bit more authority in his voice, he says, “Come on, Hinamori.”

She flinches and raises her head. “Sorry, it’s just…” His heart aches at her sad smile. “I think this and before with the hasukappu, they’re both the first time in a while that I haven’t discussed or thought about the reconstruction efforts. I know it was my idea to go visit Obaa-san and the others, but I just wanted to check on them. I didn’t think I’d get distracted from everything that’s happening.”

She’s on the edge of an unnecessary apology, and he chooses to nip it in the bud. “I know. We’re only fifteen minutes away, so let’s keep going.”

She gives a shallow nod and joins him.

This really had been a bad idea.

_________________________________________

“I figured you’d be somewhere like here.”

Toshiro almost drops his denreishikai and whips his head over his shoulder.

Isshin stands only a few meters away, his hands in his pockets. Mercifully, if he noticed Toshiro’s near fumble, he doesn’t show it. At the same time however, he half wishes he could punch the smirk off his former captain’s face. However, he’s rendered speechless, and none of the many questions he had always wanted to ask him come to mind now. He suddenly understands what humans meant when they see ‘a ghost from the past’.

“Matsumoto said you were in the area,” Isshin explains. “I bumped into her this morning.”

It might explain why she and Orihime hadn’t returned before Toshiro decided to take a walk an hour ago. He calms with a low exhale. “What the heck are you doing here?”

Isshin’s smirk drops a fraction, and he walks over to him. Toshiro can imagine the question could be taken in more than one way, but Isshin chooses to go for the most obvious one. “I wasn’t out looking for you, just decided to go for a walk.” He steps over the road guard, but keeps a meter distance between them. “I forgot to ask Matsumoto how long you’ve been here.”

Toshiro glares at his denreishinkai. “Is that really any of your concern anymore?”

What’s left of Isshin’s smirk vanishes. “I may not be a captain anymore, but can I can still sense Hollows. There’s been a bit more than usual since Aizen’s defeat from what I can tell. Kuchiki Rukia’s replacement can only do so much, I guess.”

It was strange to hear Isshin discuss Shinigami business when he no longer is one. It’s even stranger to see him up close after all these decades. Toshiro closes his phone. “We’re only here for today, and leaving tonight.”

In the silence, Isshin does nothing except shift his gaze ahead, while Toshiro can’t lift his own from the ground. It’s not the first time he and Rangiku have seen their old captain; during their first time in Karakura Town, they’d spotted him from afar as he walked out of his clinic, but neither of them chose to interact. He and Rangiku reasoned this new life of his had been his choice, but it didn't stop the question he wanted to ask itching to get answered. Perhaps, though, it had also been in part because neither wanted to confront him in a situation like this. What’s he supposed to do?

A part of him wants to run away, to pretend this encounter never happened. But he stays, paralyzed by…obligation. A fragment of his days as a third seat while serving under the man next to him.

Isshin leans against the road guard. “It’s a nice view, huh?”

The view in question was of the west of Karakura Town, bathed in the orange light of the sunset. On the street below, cars and people are still out and about, and the streetlights are starting to flicker on. In a small way, it reminds Toshiro of his days watching the Junrinan from up in the trees.

“You always had a knack for finding good views from high places,” Isshin continues. “I remember you used to climb on the barracks’ roofs. Never understood why, until I got up there and saw what you were looking at.”

Toshiro clenches his jaw as memories of those times flash in his mind. Isshin lecturing him from the ground, then usually ending up on the roof with him, continuing to lecture him until he saw the view. Somehow, it’d end up with Toshiro eventually chastising his captain for skipping out on his duties and trying to get him to climb down.

What resolve he had to stop things from bubbling over erodes. “You’ve always been reckless. You left without warning. You left the division to me.” Then, more icily. “Why?”

Isshin is silent as he turns his gaze back to him. He’s solemn but there’s a resolve there, one Toshiro knew all too well. When Isshin committed to something, he did so with all of his heart, with every ounce of determination within him; Toshiro couldn’t help but be reminded of it when he saw the same in Ichigo sometimes. It’s that determination that made them both reckless, fearless even.

“I had every intention of returning to the Soul Society, but it wasn’t that simple,” Isshin explains. “Masaki, my wife, needed my help. She risked her life to save mine when I was attacked in Naruki City. I owed her my life and I wouldn’t turn my back on her. To save her from death, I had to give up my Shinigami abilities.”

Of all the explanations and theories Toshiro had come up with in the past decade, a scenario like that had never come to mind. Now, it seems like the most obvious reason, because at his core, his captain was always committed saving lives, especially those he owed a debt to. Regardless,to think someone could sway his former captain in such a way, to make him give up everything he ever knew. He’d abandoned his Shinigami status and old life to be with her, to start a family with her. Anger and sympathy war within Toshiro, but he, frustratingly, can’t decide which emotion should win out.

Isshin smiles and the fire in his eyes softens. “It seems foolish, I know, but it wasn’t long after I started living as a human that I realized Masaki was my center. Even if I hadn’t lost my powers, it’d be hard to pull out of orbit of someone I'd come to care about as much as her and try to return to who I was before I met her.”

Toshiro barely manages to hold back a snide snort. “Since when did you become poetic?”

Isshin chuckles. “You’ll get it when you find someone you feel the same way about. They’ll become your sun, the center of your universe.” He sighs through his nose. “Although, I think you can understand it already, on some level.”

Toshiro watches the sun touch the horizon and says nothing, afraid of indulging whatever musing Isshin has.

His mind wonders to Momo, to their days in the Junrinan. It always did when he came to this spot at this time. How many sunsets had he watched with her? When had they stopped doing that? Not long after she left for the Academy, he remembers. The last time was on her break during her third year. It wasn't something he missed until she had been in denial about Aizen's true self.

How is she right now? Was her new captain treating her well? He'd had reservations about coming on a day trip because of the latter, but they'd agreed to speak once he returned. It'll be the first time he's seen her since his failure at the fake Karakura Town. He still can't let go of the guilt from that event, has wondered if he's worthy enough yet to face her again. Another part of him, the one that pushed him to finally see her again, knew he couldn't keep going without seeing her.

He imagines the Isshin he knew, risking his life for a human who risked her life to save his, and he knew that foolhardy determination, that feeling of owing one he had a debt to, would’ve guided him to who he is today. He can’t say he doesn’t relate on some level. Hadn’t he almost done the same for Momo? More than once over the last two years, he’d abandoned his principles when she was in danger, and knew without a second thought he would risk his life for hers.

With some agitation, he inwardly admits his old captain still knows him too well.

“It sounds like the division is doing well.”

“…What did Matsumoto tell you?”

“That you two are handling everything, that there’s no need for me to come back even if I wanted to. I’m not surprised, though. I knew regardless of whether you became captain or not, or if Matsumoto would stay on as lieutenant, the division was in good hands with you two being a part of it.”

Toshiro wants to shove away the sentimental ache in his chest. There was a time where he was ready to round on his former captain and interrogate him, believing no matter his reasons he would never forgive him. Now…he’s just tired. He has no energy left to hate the man for abandoning them, and his reasoning he can, frustratingly or thankfully, relate to.

So instead, he remarks, “I’m surprised Matsumoto didn’t knock you over.”

Isshin grins. “She almost did, but Inoue-san stopped her.”

_______________________________________

The sky is dyed various shades of yellow and orange, and the shadows of trees fall away as they reach highest point of the path. Below, beyond the foliage and five minutes away is the Junrinan, alive with lights and souls, just small dots, wondering the streets. Momo now trails a few feet behind him; neither have spoken a word in the last ten minutes.

A wind blows through, and without thinking, Toshiro follows its direction and looks to his left. The sun is gradually descending to the horizon, but below it…

He stops mid step. Something in him falls, making him go slack in the shoulders and the air freeze in his lungs.

In his peripheral, Momo makes a confused sound before she too follows his gaze. “Oh…” She raises a hand to her chest.

Districts one through to twenty-five for the north and west are sprawled out beneath them. The ones affected by the war are obvious: buildings completely leveled or almost gone, nature upturned and ground scarred, ruins of the palace standing out like a sore thumb. Unlike the districts around them, their lights are fewer and far between, small fires meant to keep groups of souls warm in their temporary shelters. Smoke trails twirls up into the sky, toward where the Palace wreckage had come from and ruined their homes.

Seeing it all together, it makes him grit his teeth against the growing tightness around his heart. Is he failing them? The souls in the Rukongai and the officer who gave their lives. He knows how the former think of him, but the latter, he dreads to wonder how they would view him right now.

He’s startled by a sob. Peering over to Momo, she smacks a hand over mouth, eyes wide in alarm and rimmed with tears.

“Hi--Hinamori?” he says, unknowingly taking a step towards her.

She’s quick to wipe away the tears that escape. “I-I…I’m sorry. Now’s not the time for any of this. It’s one thing to hear about how many districts were affected, but seeing it all t-together, just seeing it all, it’s…” She bites her lip, but it doesn’t stop another tear from falling. “I know we can make it through this and help everyone in the Rukongai, but it’s still…it’s hard to go through all of it to get there. But I have no right to cry now, not when they’re suffering more than us. I’ll cry when I can finally bury those who gave their lives, but until then, I have to focus on restoring everything, right?”

For a brief moment, the world blurs around him, and she is the only thing in focus. With almost stumbling steps, he goes to her, as if being drawn to her by an invisible force; even if he wanted break away, he couldn’t.

There’s hardly any gap between them, their faces close enough that he came make out the faint, small scar on the side of her forehead; from an injury she got while up at the Palace. He’s almost lost her more than once, and he recalls the worry in the back of his mind during the war that she could perish to the Quincy. A small part of him still chastises himself for not being able to prevent her from being injured, but that was the reality of war and combat, and he thanks whatever forces drive this world that it hadn’t been worse.

He surprises both of them when he cups her cheeks and wipes away a tear with his thumb. In the stunned silence his thoughts race, but not with work or guilt.

Perhaps because of all she had gone through in the last two years, he can’t stand to see her cry anymore. Her heart had been wounded; she had put her trust like everyone else in an illusion once. She’d been in denial, had asked him to he unthinkable in sparing a traitor’s life, but she had come to accept everything, now has clearer eyes. Gone is some of her naivety, and in it’s place is a girl who knows better, who even after all her grief and heartache, still reaches out a hand to help and guide.

As the shock wears off, he’s quick to pull away. “S-Sorry.”

“I-It’s okay” she says, still stunned.

Her tears have vanished and a faint pink colors the tops of her cheeks. Perhaps she waits for an explanation, but he has none. She had done the same for him when they were younger, wiping away his tears and leaving him shocked by the gentle gesture, but this feels different. It was to comfort her, but also for something else…

However, the image of the boy from eighth district comes to mind, and it reminds him that he doesn’t know how to comfort others. He spots the boy’s district, off to the far left. That child is a little older than he was before he went to the Academy. Toshiro wonders if he got to live the life he’d always imagined himself having, away from war and violence and grief. Now the latter had come, in the destruction of his home and his district. And what had Toshiro done? Given him a toy back and told him the same thing his officers would’ve already said. It's pathetic.

“It would have been better if you had spoken to that child.” When she says nothing, he folds his arms into his sleeves and elaborates. “Residents need hope in times like this. It is not something I inspire in others.”

“That’s not true,” she responds immediately, and with such a tenderness he’s forced to meet her gaze. She closes the gap between them again with two strides, her eyes wide and emphatic, and it takes him aback.

“I’ve learned that hope doesn’t always come in kind words,” she continues. “Sometimes it comes in an apology, or in a promise to do better, whether it’s to yourself or to someone else.” Her eyes mist again, and her smile returns. “Sometimes it’s just knowing you have a friend there. I have you, Captain Hirako, Abarai-kun, Kira-kun, Rangiku-san, Hisagi-kun, and Nanao-san. I’m incredibly lucky to have you all.”

She points to the Rukongai. “Not everyone down there has someone, I know, but I believe they can find friends and family, just like we all did. In times like this, it’s amazing the connections one can make. I’ve seen it in my districts, how they help each other and give each other hope. We can contribute to that, you contribute to that by vowing to rebuild their homes, by them shelter and food, by giving them back possessions that mean something to them.”

She rests a hand on his forearm, and he brings his hands out of his sleeves. For the first time since they reconciled, she takes his hand in hers. “You’ve been there for me for decades, and I didn’t truly realise it until Captain Ai—I mean, Aizen Sosuke – betrayed us. I’m truly grateful that you still consider me a friend, that we can still talk and share things together. You…You give me hope, Hitsugaya-kun, and I’m certain I’m not the only one.”

The sunlight has turned her eyes to amber, bright like the embers of the element she wields. Her hair shines, almost golden, as if it were made of wisps of the sun. Her skin glows, and there isn’t a single shadow in her soft smile.

It’s the first time he’s considered her beautiful.

Her appearance has never been a major concern of his, unless she was sick or injured. At times he thought she was cute when she smiled or got excited, or could admire something she had done with her hair. Why did he view her differently now? Had the sunlight been just right? Had this moment of vulnerability made him see a different side to her?

But she’s the same. She’s one of the only people he knows who even while sobbing in despair can still have hope for the future, and one of the few who can still think of others while struggling with her own demons. Others would mistake her for being weak, but he only saw strength. He wants to protect her from threats beyond her control, but she’s more than capable of taking on most things, whether it was with tears in her eyes or an angry furrow in her brow or a smile on her lips. She held out a hand to anyone, sometimes to a fault, sometimes to a benefit.

In this world of violence and war and grief, they only have each other, and he has her still. She held on, for him and for other Shinigami, because she’s strong and kind and his friend.

His heart swells, and it dawns on him.

Oh…

He lets out a shuddered breath and bows his head. The revelation crashes over him like a wave, rendering him mute and tightening his chest painfully.

He loves her.

Momo says his name, uncertain. When he doesn’t respond,she tries to search his eyes. Had he always adored her earnestness? When did her will and wish to understand him become so endearing? It’s almost too much. He prays that somehow his thoughts aren't conveyed in his gaze.

She releases his hand, and he almost reaches out to take it back. “Did I say something wrong?” she asks.

“No,” he manages to murmur, “no, you didn’t.”

He knew his feelings towards her had shifted over the decades, and when she had been on the brink of death the first time, he knew they were something deeper than he’d thought. But love? This is how it felt; it’s as light as air, freeing and special, but somehow keeping him grounded and with the power to make his heart ache or race.

Is this what Isshin spoke of when he said someone could become your center?

Why did a realisation like this have to come at this time? He had enough on his mind, and now this. It should he the most important thing to him, but the repair and the dead are foremost on his mind. But somehow, it doesn't feel like a burden or another weight on his shoulder like he expects. If anything, it's inexplicably lifted some of that weight off. He can't stay focused on this, he'll need to unpack this later.

“I’m tired.” He can sense it’s not enough of an answer for her, so with some push back from the side of him that always keeps his innermost thoughts from being voiced, he adds, “I never knew you thought of me that way.”

She gives a weak chuckle. “I must admit, I didn’t think I would say that, it’s a little embarrassing, b-but it’s true.”

“…Thank you.”

“And you too, Shiro-chan. I didn’t know you thought about me that way either.”

Ah, he had more or less admitted she inspired hope, hadn’t he? A fresh blush starts to rise up to his cheeks, but he’s quick to tread away from her and continue down the path. “We’re not going to make it back in time to Hirako or Matsumoto, but we might as well continue to the Junrinan.”

She comes up to his side, smile rueful. “I suppose so, yes.”

“…It’s as you said, though, we need to put these repairs first, but we also need to take time to rest.” Again he fights that reserved part of himself to continue. “Sometimes that can include visiting someone or laughing a little or...being a little late to something." He almost cringes, it goes against his principal of always being punctual. "Regardless, it shouldn’t feel like you don’t have the right to rest.”

Her smile widens to a grin, and she takes his hands again. Unlike last time, a pulse runs up his arm like a lighting bolt and straight to his chest. Being in love is going to take some getting used to.

“I never thought I’d see the day you’d admit that rest can include laughing,” she says. “It’s hard in time like this to feel like you deserve rest, but it’s true. It’s like Captain Hirako told me once: ‘If you don’t rest, you can’t help anyone’.”

“I don’t know about that, but it is important.”

She giggles, and it’s one of the most soothing sounds he’s heard since the war ended. “It can look like friends helping each other too.”

_______________________

The girl stands beneath a bare tree, clad in her multiple layers, her back to him, and staring at the silhouette of the Seiretei through the mist. Just in front of her is the only alleyway that leads back to his house. Toshiro curses himself for not having turned off the main path sooner, but he hadn’t noticed the girl until he got this close.

Biting the inside of his cheek, he treads soundlessly to the other side of the path, into the cover of shadows. However, in his way all along the path’s side is snow, and the crunch of his footsteps will surely alert the girl of his presence. Perhaps she will be too caught up in her mind though, she hadn’t even noticed the ring of a chime from the house behind her or the budged when the wind grew stronger.

Needing to get home, he risks it, walking on the snow to the alleyway and keeping his head low. Something makes him tilt his head a fraction back to her as he moves along. Now closer, he can tell she’s around his age. Only a few souls were ever out in this cold, and all of them had been adults. She’s an oddity in that regard, and in coming out at this time. It’s the third time he’s seen her, and not once had he spotted her in the Junrinan at any other hour – then again, the district is packed with souls, he’d be lucky sometimes if he sees the same shopkeeper three behind the counter more than three times in the same month.

The wind catches on his scarf, causing the end to fly out of the shadows. He looks away from her and hurries his footsteps while trying to catch his scarf.

“Oh!”

Toshiro cringes at being caught. Despite his mind telling him to make a run for it, he’s stuck, as if the cold had frozen him on the spot. Without thinking, he looks back to the girl. Her wide eyes are brown, almost the same colour as her hair.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you,” she asks, her words muffled slightly by the scarf covering her mouth. "What’re you doing out?"

“I could ask you the same thing,” he retorts without thinking.

She blinks, taken aback by his answer. After a moment, she shrugs. “I get up early.”

“And go outside?”

“Yeah, there isn’t much to do inside when everyone’s asleep.” She turns on her heel back to the silhouette of the Seireitei. "It's also the only time I get to see this clearly too, even with all the mist and snow."

With her attention diverted, he can make a getaway. He goes to, but she speaks up again.

"Have you ever been in there?" she asks.

The question is so preposterous he can't help but snark back, "As if they'd ever let any of us wonder in there."

"Oh, so it's just Shinigami then?"

He raises a brow. "You're new around here or something?"

She nods. "I arrived two weeks ago. I'm still learning everything." She tugs the scarf over her mouth down, showing her bright red cheeks and a wide smile. He's bewildered by the latter; aside from Granny, no one had ever smiled at him before.

"I'm Hinamori Momo by the way," she says.

She waits for him to reciprocate, but he wonders further into the shadows. Perhaps she was only being friendly to him because didn't know who he was or because, more likely, she can't make out his from over there.

Her smile dims at his reaction. "Ah, sorry. I guess I just came out and spoke to you without warning. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

The light of the sunrise faintly pierces through the clouds, shining through the alleyways and making the snow dully glimmer. She'll surely see him more clearly now

"Your hair is so white!"

He scowls and rubs a hand through his spikes without realising. "What about it?"

"Ah, sorry! It's just that I've never seen hair like your before. It's like the snow."

It's about the nicest thing anyone has ever said about his appearance and he isn't sure how to take it. Furthermore, it seems no one hadn't told her about him. It would only be a matter of time before she finds out, but maybe, for even a day, for even just this hour, he could talk with another who didn't judge him for his appearance or the apparent coldness he gave off.

He steps out from the shadows and on to the main street. In half a grumble, he introduces himself. "Hitsugaya Toshiro."

She tilts her head, but then it hits her. "Oh, that's your name." Her smile returns anew. "It's nice to meet you."

With introductions out of the way, he isn't sure where to take this.

He looks to the Seireitei, feeling nothing towards it, but right now, the world only has the two of them looking at the horizon, and it makes him feel something that's as light and boundless as snow.

_______________________

Toshiro comes to a stop before he ascends the stairs to Granny’s house. He takes in the structure of it, from the roof to the ground, thankful it remains standing. He knocks on the front door, and when she doesn’t answer, he wonders to the back.

She sits on the veranda, cup of tea in hand and a bowl at her side. It’s a peaceful image, one he almost doesn’t want to disturb. She doesn’t notice him at first, too lost in thought, but she perks up as he nears.

She abandons her tea, nearly stumbles trying to meet him halfway. He rushes forward, fearing she’ll fall. “Wait, Baa-chan!”

Her voice is weak when she finally speaks. “Toshiro…you’re…” She raises her hands, cupping his face between them. Tears form in the corners of her eyes, and her lips keep twitching between a frown and a relieved smile.

“I’m okay,” he reassures, voice raspy. “Hinamori is here too, she’s just visiting Ayumi and Tatsukichi.”

She brings him into a hug. “Welcome home.”

And that does it. Biting back a sob, he hugs her back. Relief floods through him, and the weight of his duties momentarily lifts away. He will go back and do everything he can for ever soul affected, to ensure they can have a home like this again.He will remember the dead, will ensure their families are looked after and to visit every shrine to pay his respects and his gratefulness to them.

It's a minute later when she ushers him into her house and brews a fresh pot of tea. He answers all of her worried questions, and she reassure him he is doing his best everything he had to do.

Momo joins them later, grinning as she hugs Granny and then as Granny prepares her a tea.

He can't look away from her, his heart beating faster whenever she looks to him and swelling when she laughs or smiles. To know he loves her, to finally have a name for the feelings he's had towards her, has changed him.

And maybe it had come to him now because in it’s own way, whether he ever confessed to her or not, knowing how he feels about her was hope. He can feel for her anew, could continue to live by her side with a new view of who she is.

[rays-of-fire-and-ice]

A Notice for Hitsuhina Week 2022

Hi everyone,

A few of you have messaged me saying you won participate in Hitsuhina Week and are apologizing for it.

I'll start off by saying please don't feel bad if you can't participate. Of course it would be amazing if everyone in the community on here could participate, but when things in real life take an unexpected turn or become more important, they should obviously come first. Other times, one can simply just not be creatively inspired at the time, it happens.

The point of Hitsuhina Week is for fans to engage with each other and the community as a whole how and when ever they can over the course of the week - whether it's posting a piece, reblogging/commenting on/liking a piece, or answering the daily questions. If you can't participate at all, then that's totally fine too.

With all that said, if everyone feels the week is happening at an inconvenient time right now, I am happy to add an extra week to the event to give extra time to submit pieces. There wouldn't be any themes, it's just an extra week to submit your piece/s and answer daily questions. Let me know what you think!

As is, I plan to hold two more events before the years ends: something in October to celebrate the anime's return and a gift exchange in December. If you have any ideas, as always please feel free to share them!