[drabbles][prompts 50, 30, & 48][Hitsugaya-centric]
More drabbles. More laziness. Titles, headers, whut?? Yeah. Okay. Drabbles. Three of them, all off the 52_flavours prompts. You know the drill.
50. As near as now
The dry dirt underneath is turning to mud, and his own blood is the catalyst. Eyes half-lidded and unfocused stare at the man walking away, sword held to his side, blood dripping from the tip.
It’s the second time; this time there is no comment about how pleasing the ice is. This time, Aizen is just walking away, without a backward glance, without acknowledgement. There is a moment in which Hitsugaya imagines that this will all end well - Seireitei will not fall - but he knows better.
He knows.
Because his death is as near as now, and he has failed.
30. Dutch courage
He’s faltering and he knows it; he can see it all too clearly. He’s afraid: Afraid of what will happen if he fails here, if the arrancar break through these lines. If the Espada get past him, if they swoop down into Soul Society…
“If” plagues him, causes his heart to swell with anxiety. He won’t call it fear, but that’s what it is.
And she calls his name, and he’s reminded why he’s fighting. He can’t falter; his people can’t have him falter. She brings with her the reminder that he is their protector.
She brings with her courage.
48. Lost, in order to become precious
The blade shattered; Hitsugaya watched with wide eyes. It should have been more dramatic, should have shaken the foundations of the earth. It should have not happened. He fell in a pool of his own blood, knees hitting hard enough to bruise. Pieces of burnished metal fell around him, and a star-shaped hilt rolled, clattering muted by the blood.
Hyourinmaru?
Silence. His eyes closed, and he suddenly wasn’t sure whether it was the wounds or the shock of sudden silence that caused him to fall.
Still here, the dragon’s breathed, and Hitsugaya’s breath hitched, hand closing around a broken hilt.
50. As near as now
The dry dirt underneath is turning to mud, and his own blood is the catalyst. Eyes half-lidded and unfocused stare at the man walking away, sword held to his side, blood dripping from the tip.
It’s the second time; this time there is no comment about how pleasing the ice is. This time, Aizen is just walking away, without a backward glance, without acknowledgement. There is a moment in which Hitsugaya imagines that this will all end well - Seireitei will not fall - but he knows better.
He knows.
Because his death is as near as now, and he has failed.
30. Dutch courage
He’s faltering and he knows it; he can see it all too clearly. He’s afraid: Afraid of what will happen if he fails here, if the arrancar break through these lines. If the Espada get past him, if they swoop down into Soul Society…
“If” plagues him, causes his heart to swell with anxiety. He won’t call it fear, but that’s what it is.
And she calls his name, and he’s reminded why he’s fighting. He can’t falter; his people can’t have him falter. She brings with her the reminder that he is their protector.
She brings with her courage.
48. Lost, in order to become precious
The blade shattered; Hitsugaya watched with wide eyes. It should have been more dramatic, should have shaken the foundations of the earth. It should have not happened. He fell in a pool of his own blood, knees hitting hard enough to bruise. Pieces of burnished metal fell around him, and a star-shaped hilt rolled, clattering muted by the blood.
Hyourinmaru?
Silence. His eyes closed, and he suddenly wasn’t sure whether it was the wounds or the shock of sudden silence that caused him to fall.
Still here, the dragon’s breathed, and Hitsugaya’s breath hitched, hand closing around a broken hilt.