Match Me - Sign of the Dragon
33. Sign of the Dragon
Momo Hinamori sat alone at table Eight that Sunday evening, dark eyes taking in the fragrant eucalyptus and ivy lacing the sides of the alcove, smiling in anticipation and a bit of nervousness at being there. It was only after much persuasion from Shuuhei that she took her match seriously, delaying submitting her application until recently.
She sighed, seeing a few of the other tables through the draped foliage at the table's inlet opening. Both Shunsui and Captain-General Yamamoto had been at another table across the room when she'd entered the Soul Society Canteen, and she tried to remind herself she was not a bug under a microscope but an invited guest to table Eight.
It was a nice change, as she hadn't eaten at table Five since Aizen's departure, nor would she ever again. In fact, she'd requested the table designated for Fifth Division to be reassigned to another location. She had yet to hear of the results, but the head of the wait staff had told her the chances were good in her favor.
She touched the white cloth bun at the back of her head, wondering if she should have gussied up more. But no, her casual and careful customary appearance was best; better to appear as she always was rather than to needlessly impress.
Advice from Shuuhei that she followed. Her brow creased in a thin frown. But Shuuhei had yet to be matched, so how good his words of advice were was anyone's guess.
She looked up from pondering the vice-captain's suggestions to see Tôshirô step through the table's entry, a scowl already planted firmly on his face. When he saw her his features broke into a crooked grin.
"Shiro-chan!" she said too loudly, with too much enthusiasm, waving a few fingers as he slid behind the booth on the other side of the table. "Ooh, I mean Captain Hitsugaya-kun."
A frown replaced most of his grin. "Knock it off, Momo," he said, watching her mock a look of exaggerated respect. Part of his grin came back. "You're here for a match, right?"
She nodded eagerly, smiling brighter at him as she rested her forearms on the table and folded her arms across each other. "Who were you expecting?"
He frowned more intently. "Why are you filling out an application to be matched? You're looking for a man, Momo?"
The fingers of one of her hands tapped the back of her other arm. "Every member at the Women's Association had to fill out two applications." She raised an eyebrow and leaned closer to him. "What's your excuse, Captain?"
"Hmm, my first match wasn't good. Too old and way too tall," he grumbled.
Momo sat straighter on the booth cushion, raising her several inches above him, fingers stilling on her arm. "I'm older than you and taller than you, too, Shiro-chan."
He looked up at the top of her head and then to footsteps advancing on their table. "That's different."
They both looked to the entry as Rangiku poked her head through the ivy, a few papers in her hand. She glanced to each of them, smiled, and entered despite the warning look she got from the short captain.
"There you are, Captain. Hi, Momo," she said, smiling wider at Momo before sitting beside the smaller vice-captain, shoving her over with a hip until the girl was snugged up beside Tôshirô without a say in the matter.
"Ugh, Rangiku," Momo said, pulling on her robe to free it from under the bottom of Rangiku's hakama pants. "This is not official business."
Rangiku smiled, nodding, eyes on Tôshirô's fuming face. "I'll be quick."
"Matsumoto, leave now," Tôshirô said through clenched teeth. "I'm doing something here."
The taller woman winked at him, her smile warming. "Gotcha, Captain, but all I need is your signatures real quick and I'll let you get back to being cutesy with --"
"Matsumoto," he growled as Momo flushed a pink color, "get lost. Now, Lieutenant."
Rangiku had just put the papers on the table, avoiding the single candle glass holder glowing a flame, a pen in her other hand. "But it's paperwork, Captain Hitsugaya. I know how you feel about paperwork, and I am working on the weekend, and --"
"That's because you took a day off last week, Matsumoto," Tôshirô said tightly, leaning over the table across Momo to his taller vice-captain. "Get lost. I'll see you at the office tomorrow."
The pen stayed posed in Rangiku's hand as her eyes roved over the decorative greenery. Her attention switching between him and Momo before softening as her voice took on a teasing quality. "Ooh, you're matched? Yes, I can see it. No surprise there," she said, sizing up Momo as if for the first time. "But she is older than you, Captain, and as I recall you don't like that --"
"Matsumoto," he growled, catching Momo in the crossfire as he leaned to the other woman. "This is --"
"-- and taller, which bothers you, too, I know," she added with a sigh before easing into a giggle. "Okay, okay, I'll leave and let your little hormones do their work, but first I need a couple signatures, Captain."
Tôshirô snatched the papers and pen out of her hands and sat back.
At the table against the opposite wall where Yamamoto sat with a less than composed Shunsui the two captains were watching table Eight's three occupants. There was more on the evening's match than usual, and the man behind it all was more than a little ruffled for several reasons.
Yamamoto frowned at the table inside the alcove of ivy and eucalyptus. "Three? You matched up three, Kyouraku? That is not how you told me you were running this fiasco."
Shunsui frowned at table Eight, leaning his head to the side, trying to see better through the foliage, recognizing the scowl on what he could see of Tôshirô's face, but unable to see more beyond Rangiku's auburn hair blocking most of his view. "Ah, we didn't match three, General. I think Matsumoto is an add-on."
Yamamoto squinted at the table. "A what?"
"Uh, not invited. Oh, she's leaving. I think it was just business, General," Shunsui said with a sigh.
Both captains, and pretty much every other male in the Canteen dining room, watched Rangiku make her departure out the exit before turning back to their own matters. Shunsui couldn't see the shadow of an amused smile behind Yamamoto's long whiskers, but it was there.
"Now, about my application," the general said slowly, watching Shunsui's face drop into an atypical look of rapt attention, "it's been quite a while since I've listed my strengths of character and best physical qualities."
Shunsui downed his saké, swallowing quickly and pouring himself another, dreading the topic. "I've been thinking about that."
"You've been thinking about my physical qualities, Kyouraku?" There was a bite in Yamamoto's tone.
"No, no, General," Shunsui corrected hastily, "but you as a whole... Such a challenge. We haven't had an application like yours yet."
"You don't have mine yet, either," Yamamoto reminded him sternly.
"No, no..." Shunsui drank his saké without so much as tasting the premium quality in the pale liquid. "It's such an honor to think you think we can find a woman worthy of spending time with you, even for an evening, a woman of such caliber and class, with the intellect and breeding I know you'd expect, and beauty, naturally," Shunsui said, now babbling, which he hadn't done while sober in years. "Of course she'd have to be able to hold her own in polite conversation as well as --"
"Cut the dung prattle, Kyouraku," Yamamoto said curtly. "You'll get my questionnaire tomorrow, so you'll have more to go on. And mind you don't leave it all up to that overworked vice-captain of yours." He allowed a smile to extend through his whiskers. "Now there is an intelligent woman, and dedicated, too. Certainly knows her place in Soul Society, punctual, from what I've heard of her, takes her duties seriously." He nodded. "A genuine asset to the community."
Shunsui stared at his superior, the cup of saké halted halfway to his lips. "Vice-Captain Ise? My Nanao?"
"Surely you recognize her by my description, don't you, Shunsui? You've certainly studied her long enough." Yamamoto filled his cup from the bottle of saké and waited for Shunsui to drink his before offering to fill it.
Instead Shunsui set down the cup, an unfamiliar chill feeling creeping up his spine despite his layers of clothing in the summer day's heat. "Are you suggesting I match you with ... with my Nanao?"
Yamamoto lifted a heavy white eyebrow. "Now you're matching your applicants before they apply? What utter confidence you have in your intuitions, Shunsui."
"No, no, General, I thought you were proposing such a ..." he swallowed quickly, forcing the words out, "such a match."
Yamamoto filled the younger captain's half empty cup from the bottle, enjoying the rare look of loss on his former student's face. "My application will be at your division office in the morning."
He looked back to table Eight as Shunsui pondered his saké. Shunsui's mind was twitching between thoughts, none of which were of the much-beloved strong alcohol in front of him. He'd seen little of his vice-captain since Friday morning when he'd come into the office late, and she'd been uncannily quiet, followed by an afternoon of captains' meetings, and a few hours on Saturday during which she'd been inordinately preoccupied. He hadn't told her yet of Yamamoto's willingness to set his love-life in their hands.
"They seem well-matched," Yamamoto said, nodding as the gray-robed server brought an empty platter from table Eight's entry.
Shunsui followed the general's gaze. "Hmm? Oh, yes. Very good for each other."
The two captains weren't alone in noticing the pair at table Eight, and Tôshirô had noticed the attention he and Momo had garnered from other tables in the dining room. He sat behind the table, Momo still at his side, two orders of the finger food specials before them. He looked around the dining room, sitting to his full height to see glimpses through the foliage of the diners staring back at him. Some were outright watching, others stealing furtive glances, a few others repeatedly passing by the entryway to take a surreptitious peek at the table.
Tôshirô had had enough eavesdropping, however discreet it was, when he saw both Shuuhei and Izuru craning their necks to see inside the entryway opening from table Nine.
He turned to Momo, who was pretending not to notice the other diners, her attention on the plate before her she hadn't yet started to eat. "Do you want to get this to go, Momo? We could go to Fifth and eat in peace. Without an audience."
Her eyes lifted quickly from her plate, holding a softness he hadn't seen in them for a long while, a softness he missed seeing in her. It wasn't the wounded look she'd worn after realizing her captain had betrayed everything she knew and attempted to kill her, but another yielding look he knew since their childhood.
"Just us, Shiro-chan?"
He nodded.
Her eyes rested on his face for a long moment, smiling at his smooth cheeks so recently shaved of any hint of hair. "Are you wearing cologne?"
He reddened, looking down at the chicken tsumami and yakitori getting cold on his plate before turning his attention back to her. "You're wearing perfume, too, Momo," he said in a low tone. "Peaches and something flowery."
She nodded, smiling more fully. "You smell all grown up."
He'd planned to take offense to her remark, knew he should have, and if it had been anyone else, he would have.
But it was Momo, and he didn't.
"You smell nice, too."
She nodded and pushed their plates together in the center of the table as he looked around the room for their server.
"Let's go, Shiro."
He waved over their server when he caught her attention at another table and requested their dinners to be packaged for take-out. She nodded and bowed, taking the plates with her as she left the alcove.
Tôshirô waited until the woman was gone before he licked his fingers and pinched out the single candlelight in the centerpiece glass holder. The light in the inlet of greenery eclipsed slightly, not quite dark, but far less than bright.
He looked to Momo sitting near him still, her eyes wide with the dim lighting. His voice was void of its usual weightiness. "Do you think Kyouraku was right in matching us, Momo?"
"He's been around for a long time, Shiro-chan; he's seen a lot of people." Her voice had dropped lower.
"It doesn't mean he knows what he's doing," he said, unable to let the comment pass. "Bed-wetter."
She pouted a little at him. "Can you ever think of me other than a bed-wetter, Shiro-chan?"
He didn't have to think about it, but he pretended to. "I guess so."
She nodded, making the scent of peachy perfume bloom stronger, and then looked down as his hand closed over her fingers on the table unlike they had when they were children, this time firmly, possessively. She looked back up at him, finding him nearer, his face inches from hers, lips faintly touching hers.
Barely had they touched than the server returned, a muted gasp escaping her in the dimly lit inlet, eyes wide on the shinigami in the booth.
"My apologies, Captain! Vice-Captain!" She hurriedly placed the basket of bento boxes on the table and dashed out of the alcove, bringing a ripple of comments from the dining room.
"Damn her timing," Tôshirô mumbled, dropping Momo's hand and getting out from behind the table. "Come on," he said when she remained immobile. He snagged the basket handle and nodded to her. "Let's get out of here."
Momo replaced her look of surprised anticipation with a wide smile and scooted out from the booth. "Let's go, Shiro-chan."
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Next Match: Must Love Tattoos
-- from Match Me