3 fics: [Language of friendship] [Eyes] [What vexes man]
The language of friendship is not words but meanings. - Henry David Thoreau
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The Winter War is over.
Hitsugaya sits on the roof of his squad barracks, late in the day, when paperwork is finished and his men have retired. It’s late September, and the trees surrounding the Seireitei are in full color, the air chill with promises of snow. He wears his squad uniform and a thick scarf, unlike many around him who layer their clothing to ward off the cold. The cold has always suited him.
He senses a familiar energy behind him, and doesn’t need to look to know who it is.
Rangiku sits beside him, handing him a mug of hot tea. Her golden hair matches the trees around them. She’s dressed in a thick woolen kimono, its color reminding him of oak, an orange obi tied about her waist. The front of her kimono is closed, a scarf wrapped around her throat.
She smiles cheerily.
“Something on your mind, Captain?”
Hitsugaya shakes his snowy head, running a hand through the unruly spikes. He takes a drink of the tea, appreciating the warmth it brings. “No,” he says, looking out into the distance, “nothing of great importance, anyway. What brings you here?”
Rangiku shrugs and follows his gaze to the trees. “I saw you sitting here, all by your lonesome, and thought that a Captain’s lieutenant should be by his side when he’s alone. I see the weather isn’t affecting you at all, as usual,” she nods to his attire and grins, “if only we could all be so lucky.”
He sighs in a frustrated way, but his eyes are full of mirth. “You say that to me every year, Rangiku. You only want the weather to improve so you can open up your robes again. Hmph.”
Her laughter is bright and clear, like the sun in spring. “Of course I do! Do you have any idea how claustrophobic they get? It’s so uncomfortable. If you had boobs like mine, you’d understand, Captain.” She winks, and he flushes in embarrassment.
“As if something like that would ever happen. I’d die first before becoming a woman.”
He nearly jumps when someone sighs behind them, and he twists around to see Hinamori there. She had concealed her spirit energy from them, as she does frequently these days, ever since she woke up from the coma. She and Hitsugaya speak more often than ever, now.
In her hands, she carries an extra haori.
“Is there something wrong with being a woman, Captain Hitsugaya?”
He sputters and looks into his cup of tea. “Of course not! That’s not what I meant. I’m happy with being a male, that’s all. You women take everything out of context.”
His words are teasing, not harsh, and it’s then that Hinamori kneels behind him, to slip the haori over his shoulders. When she sits beside him, a warmth spreads within him that has little to do with the haori on his back.
There are circles beneath her eyes, her skin is paler than usual, but she smiles, she smiles.
“I thought you would be cold, Hitsugaya. Even if it’s not my responsibility to look after you, I couldn’t help myself. I hope you don’t mind me being here.”
Hitsugaya smiles, “we don’t mind at all, Momo. You’re always welcome to visit.”
Momo smiles and looks to the side.
“Women may take things out of context,” Rangiku lectures beside him, breaking the silence, “but men take things too seriously. I wouldn’t want to be a man, because of that. No wonder you’re so grumpy all the time, Captain.”
Hitsugaya sighs, surrendering. “Alright, I take back what I said, then. There’s nothing wrong with being a woman, but there’s nothing wrong with being a man, either.”
The women at his side nod in consent. Before them, the sun begins to set, flinging orange and gray streaks across the sky.
Hitsugaya speaks again, voice low and gentle.
“Thank you for coming, both of you.”
Rangiku’s smile is friendly, and she takes the empty cup of tea from his hands. “No problem, Captain. It’s a Lieutenant’s job to make sure her Captain is doing well. And his friends,” she looks to Momo, and she nods in consent.
“Just don’t expect it every time you sit up here looking lonely, Captain Hitsugaya,” Momo teases.
They laugh.
Title: Eyes
Author:
unwritten_icons
Pairing: Grimmjow-centirc, Ichigo mentioned
Rating: G
Spoilers (if applicable): None.
Warnings (if applicable): None.
Summary: Grimmjow tries his hardest.
Authors Notes: For afteriwake prompt was "humiliation and defeat brings me to such lows." I couldn't write this post HM-arc, sorry, I tried my best, but I hope this is to your liking!
He hates those eyes.
Grimmjow hates them with everything he has. The way they glared, haughtily, with such hope, no matter how hard or fast he beat the kid up, no matter how many punches or wounds he inflicts. Those eyes would not stop mocking him.
I’m superior to you, they say to him. Beat me down, and I will rise again.
Grimmjow screams and flings Ichigo across the plane, watching him hurtle into a stone pillar. Dust gathers all around them. Blood wets Grimmjow’s front and side, dripping from his electric blue hair, now longer with his Resurrection. His tails flicks back and forth, back and forth.
Behind them, the woman screams, and her tears disgust him.
He raises both clawed hands and releases Rending Claw. He stands, like a prideful cat, and smirks down at his opponent. Ichigo screams nonsense about his friends, his nakama, and it fills Grimmjow with black, sticky hate. They fight again.
Grimmjow tries his hardest. He tries harder than he’s ever done anything before. He pushes himself until he breaks.
He’s cut down anyway.
I’m superior to you, those eyes say. I will defeat you, no matter the cost.
Grimmjow hates those eyes.
Title: What vexes man
Author:
unwritten_icons
Pairing: Shuuhei/Rangiku (implied)
Rating: G
Spoilers (if applicable): None.
Warnings (if applicable): None.
Summary: He can't fix everything.
Authors Notes: For afteriwake prompt was "hrow your soul through every open door / Count your blessings to find what you look for."
Sometimes, Hisagi wonders why he tries so hard.
He tries to be the best man he can be; the best Shinigami, the best friend. He’s a perfectionist, and when things don’t go the way he wants, he fixes them. He thinks he’s pretty good at that, fixing damaged things, broken things. People, relationships.
He can’t fix them all, though.
Hisagi mulls over a cup of rice wine late one night, in his favorite bar just outside the Seireitei. Rukongai has the best sake he’s ever tasted. He’s alone, and has finished two flasks, now working on a third. His face is flushed and his speech is slurred, but his thoughts are crisp.
“Please, Megumi.”
She looks to him with kind eyes, the color of a winter sky. Her hair is dark and her lips are full, rosy.
“I’m sorry, Shuuhei. I don’t feel for you what you feel for me. I can’t change that.”
He drops her hands.
“Of course,” he says, bitterly, “I’m sorry I troubled you. Good night.”
Now, he sits and drinks, going through the other women in his mind, his mood becoming lower with each one he remembers. He wonders what’s so awful about him to make every woman he gets close to push him away. Hisagi frowns and stares into his cup of rice wine.
Someone sits beside him and puts their arm about his shoulders.
Hisagi jumps and looks over, grumpily, about to tell whomever touching him to go away. He opens his mouth to do so before his eyes catch up with his brain. Rangiku sits, smiling cheerily, her golden hair glowing in the lamplight. Her blue eyes shine as she takes the flask away from him.
“Hey, Shuuhei! Imagine my surprise, as I walked in, ready to drink until the dawn - and I find you here, sulking! This isn’t like you, Hisagi.”
Shuuhei blushes and looks to his cup again. Her skin is warm and her bosom is pressed snugly against his side.
“I was just out for a drink, Miss Rangiku. That’s all.”
He looks at her from the corner of one eye, and her eyebrow is raised. Her full lips curve into a knowing smirk.
“Women troubles?”
Hisagi chokes, and she laughs.
“I knew it! Who was it this time, Shuuhei? That Megumi girl? Psh,” she waves one hand and grins, “forget about her. You two would have made an awful couple. She’s a huge snob, you know.”
Hisagi sighs. “Maybe.”
Rangiku leans in, her breasts pressing harder against him, and Hisagi’s face turns a deeper shade of red.
“Oh, forget about her, Shuuhei. There are always other pretty women,” she winks in a suggestive fashion. “Count your blessings that I just happen to be one of them.”
Shuuhei’s head snaps up, and he sputters. “Miss Rangiku! What are you saying?”
Her golden head lolls down as she sighs, heavily, gripping his arm and hauling him to his feet. She guides his arm about her waist, and smiles. Hisagi grins back, sheepishly.
“Come home with me, Shuuhei. You’ll forget about them soon enough.”
They leave, side by side, the moon shining above them.