#28. Personal Hell
Title: If Things Were Different
Series: Bleach
Spoilers: Through most of the Soul Society Arc. So let's say books 6 through 21 just to be safe.
Characters: Hitsugaya Toushirou and Hinamori Momo with mentions of Aizen Sousuke.
Pairing(s): Hinamori x Hitsugaya. (I know, it seems I whore certain characters out.)
Author Notes: I tried to write this twice. This is actually my re-started version of what I originally wanted to write (the previous one didn't get beyond the first three sentences, unfortunately.) Here is yet another example of me taking a theme, running with it and flogging it until the reader is black and blue in the face. I know, I'm sorry! It appears this is as far as my writing stretches. I also kept changing my mind on the prompt to use and I went with this one because my other choice didn't feel quite right (gasp, shock, does this mean this pairing will be featured in the prompt-not-chosen? Maybe. Hopefully. I think the prompt would be perfect if only the words would form right.)
Prompt: #28. Personal Hell. That makes it a whopping 10 now with 15 (or 40?!) more to go until December 31st!
So this is what it comes to, he thinks as his knees buckle beneath him much against his own will. If he had a choice in the matter he would stay standing--correction, he would stay fighting and continue fighting, on and on...
But it isn't up to him because the decision has been made for him, once again.
He never gets to choose his own time.
If it were up to him, he thinks, it wouldn't be like this.
If it were up to him, he wouldn't be the one sinking to his knees, feeling the cool rather than cold touch of ice upon his cheek as his body sags against the floor.
If it were up to him, darkness wouldn't invade his vision around the edges as he strains to see the one who did this to him--more importantly to her.
If this were all up to him, he would've made it in time.
Instead his fingers loosen their grip on his sword and he is no longer able to discern the ice melting from the blood that steadily seeps from the wounds he had no intention of getting in the first place.
. . . . . . . . .
As they sat side by side, eating watermelons until their teeth reached the rinds he would think about how things would be different if he'd been allowed a bit of say in the matter of how things were in his life.
He would be taller, for starters. With height, he believed firmly, he'd be taken seriously. No more hair ruffling certainly, because he would be too tall for anybody's hands to reach the top of his head. No one would dare shorten his name into an embarrassing nickname, one that mirrored the shocking color of his pale hair because he confidently believed that taller people simply didn't get labeled with silly names.
And if he were tall, he might as well be older too. He'd be older than her definitely and he would be the one leaving her behind for that stupid school (and who really wanted to go there anyway? He still wouldn't, he believes, but he would go there just to spite her, because if things were different, he reckons that's just what he would do).
She kicks her foot out and he can't help but look critically at his own skinny legs dangling there as he spits out the black seeds to the side. He doesn't kick his legs back and forth as she does because he knows his will be disappointingly shorter. And she is as obviously oblivious to this fact sitting as she is when they are standing and walking. Oblivious is her nature as cruelty is not; otherwise he wouldn't be able to fathom why she walks so fast.
Elbowing her for good measure which earns him a squeak of surprise he decides in that moment that if things had been different, his taller and older self would take care to walk more slowly so that she could keep pace at his side.
. . . . . . . . .
She graduated before him, which was typical but expected.
What was not expected, by anyone, was that he would catch up so quickly.
A prodigy, they called him. A natural, an ace, the star of his class. Those he left behind and bested were indignant but he didn't really care because it was their own fault that they couldn't keep up with him. His peers were taller than him, older than him, and he bested them too just the same.
It seemed he didn't need to be tall to be strong and each of his fellow students learned that the hard way.
He did however distinctly notice an acute lack of respect for his talents (which were superior to most) and his skills (also superior to most). His peers began to label him as arrogant and cocky and he wondered why being confident with one's abilities earned him such slanders.
He was better than them and really, who could argue with hard, cold facts proven time and time again?
This was why he was graduating so early, top of his class, unprecedented, they all said.
He followed her to her dumb school and it took him less than half the time to rise through the classes and graduate. But he wasn't taller than her yet and he couldn't help but think that even this wasn't quite right. Being stronger and better than her was just as well but he would've preferred to be taller too.
The saying went that one can't have it all and maybe that was true.
If it had been up to him, he'd still be taller and damn it, if having white hair was a mark of old age he wondered why he couldn't have gotten that as well.
It didn't help that her idol was probably double their ages.
Somehow on graduation day, he had the feeling he was the only one with the bitter taste in his mouth even despite the enormity of his achievements.
. . . . . . . . .
If he were to be perfectly honest to himself (which he is) it came as no big surprise when he was made Captain of the tenth division.
He was the youngest captain and no one let him forget that he was also the shortest, though the second division captain was a moderate second (not that that was any consolation).
It was also of little consolation that he had caught up, and at last even surpassed her because he was realizing that what she wanted and what she looked for wasn't in him.
He was gruff where her captain was kind, he was young where her captain had years of experience behind him and, most importantly, he was short.... and most everyone was taller than him anyway.
What he'd always known (but felt the brunt of more recently) was that he'd never catch up. He was behind from the get-go, from the starting gates, and while it was unfair because this wasn't a hurdle he could overcome, he had come to accept this shortcoming (certainly no pun intended).
Besides, it seemed even tall people were given nicknames like the fight-thirsty eleventh captain. While he was shocked the eleventh captain hadn't dashed his tiny (smaller than himself, tiny) vice captain into the nearest wall, he reckoned that maybe height gave one a certain amount of benevolence too.
Maybe it was something to aspire to but... Sometimes, if he thought too hard about this it made him uncomfortable that the huge brute of a man had a certain amount of finesse which he, a much more civil captain, lacked.
So in order to avoid uncomfortable thoughts that only further illuminated all of his faults it was better instead to think of what he could do now that he had exceeded everyone's expectations with his achievements.
Yes, the best learned technique he had was that he could always sneak up on her silently these days, and the look of surprise on her face almost made it worth it every time.
. . . . . . . . .
If this had all been up to him, he would've made it in time.
If this had been up to him, she would never have been hurt in the first place because she would've admired and respected (and maybeevenloved) him instead.
If this had all been up to him, he would've been taller, older, stronger, much stronger and smarter too, because for all his wit and keen intellect he too had been duped like the rest. He'd been close but not close enough to the answer and that had proven to be his worst mistake.
Height and age little matter to him now as he watches her in the fourth division ward, lying there attached to so many tubes and wires that it makes him sick with regret that after everything he'd ever accomplished in his still shorter life, he still wasn't strong enough to protect her. With every slow labored breath she draws he hates himself a little more for all the If Onlys that are beyond opportunity. The ache of his wounds only recently healed remind him that he followed not for the sake of competition but for the sake of learning how to keep her safe. He trained, he fought, he exceeded for that one reason only...
But what hurts him the most is the knowledge that, for her in the end, one man's illusion had been almost worth dying for.
Series: Bleach
Spoilers: Through most of the Soul Society Arc. So let's say books 6 through 21 just to be safe.
Characters: Hitsugaya Toushirou and Hinamori Momo with mentions of Aizen Sousuke.
Pairing(s): Hinamori x Hitsugaya. (I know, it seems I whore certain characters out.)
Author Notes: I tried to write this twice. This is actually my re-started version of what I originally wanted to write (the previous one didn't get beyond the first three sentences, unfortunately.) Here is yet another example of me taking a theme, running with it and flogging it until the reader is black and blue in the face. I know, I'm sorry! It appears this is as far as my writing stretches. I also kept changing my mind on the prompt to use and I went with this one because my other choice didn't feel quite right (gasp, shock, does this mean this pairing will be featured in the prompt-not-chosen? Maybe. Hopefully. I think the prompt would be perfect if only the words would form right.)
Prompt: #28. Personal Hell. That makes it a whopping 10 now with 15 (or 40?!) more to go until December 31st!
So this is what it comes to, he thinks as his knees buckle beneath him much against his own will. If he had a choice in the matter he would stay standing--correction, he would stay fighting and continue fighting, on and on...
But it isn't up to him because the decision has been made for him, once again.
He never gets to choose his own time.
If it were up to him, he thinks, it wouldn't be like this.
If it were up to him, he wouldn't be the one sinking to his knees, feeling the cool rather than cold touch of ice upon his cheek as his body sags against the floor.
If it were up to him, darkness wouldn't invade his vision around the edges as he strains to see the one who did this to him--more importantly to her.
If this were all up to him, he would've made it in time.
Instead his fingers loosen their grip on his sword and he is no longer able to discern the ice melting from the blood that steadily seeps from the wounds he had no intention of getting in the first place.
. . . . . . . . .
As they sat side by side, eating watermelons until their teeth reached the rinds he would think about how things would be different if he'd been allowed a bit of say in the matter of how things were in his life.
He would be taller, for starters. With height, he believed firmly, he'd be taken seriously. No more hair ruffling certainly, because he would be too tall for anybody's hands to reach the top of his head. No one would dare shorten his name into an embarrassing nickname, one that mirrored the shocking color of his pale hair because he confidently believed that taller people simply didn't get labeled with silly names.
And if he were tall, he might as well be older too. He'd be older than her definitely and he would be the one leaving her behind for that stupid school (and who really wanted to go there anyway? He still wouldn't, he believes, but he would go there just to spite her, because if things were different, he reckons that's just what he would do).
She kicks her foot out and he can't help but look critically at his own skinny legs dangling there as he spits out the black seeds to the side. He doesn't kick his legs back and forth as she does because he knows his will be disappointingly shorter. And she is as obviously oblivious to this fact sitting as she is when they are standing and walking. Oblivious is her nature as cruelty is not; otherwise he wouldn't be able to fathom why she walks so fast.
Elbowing her for good measure which earns him a squeak of surprise he decides in that moment that if things had been different, his taller and older self would take care to walk more slowly so that she could keep pace at his side.
. . . . . . . . .
She graduated before him, which was typical but expected.
What was not expected, by anyone, was that he would catch up so quickly.
A prodigy, they called him. A natural, an ace, the star of his class. Those he left behind and bested were indignant but he didn't really care because it was their own fault that they couldn't keep up with him. His peers were taller than him, older than him, and he bested them too just the same.
It seemed he didn't need to be tall to be strong and each of his fellow students learned that the hard way.
He did however distinctly notice an acute lack of respect for his talents (which were superior to most) and his skills (also superior to most). His peers began to label him as arrogant and cocky and he wondered why being confident with one's abilities earned him such slanders.
He was better than them and really, who could argue with hard, cold facts proven time and time again?
This was why he was graduating so early, top of his class, unprecedented, they all said.
He followed her to her dumb school and it took him less than half the time to rise through the classes and graduate. But he wasn't taller than her yet and he couldn't help but think that even this wasn't quite right. Being stronger and better than her was just as well but he would've preferred to be taller too.
The saying went that one can't have it all and maybe that was true.
If it had been up to him, he'd still be taller and damn it, if having white hair was a mark of old age he wondered why he couldn't have gotten that as well.
It didn't help that her idol was probably double their ages.
Somehow on graduation day, he had the feeling he was the only one with the bitter taste in his mouth even despite the enormity of his achievements.
. . . . . . . . .
If he were to be perfectly honest to himself (which he is) it came as no big surprise when he was made Captain of the tenth division.
He was the youngest captain and no one let him forget that he was also the shortest, though the second division captain was a moderate second (not that that was any consolation).
It was also of little consolation that he had caught up, and at last even surpassed her because he was realizing that what she wanted and what she looked for wasn't in him.
He was gruff where her captain was kind, he was young where her captain had years of experience behind him and, most importantly, he was short.... and most everyone was taller than him anyway.
What he'd always known (but felt the brunt of more recently) was that he'd never catch up. He was behind from the get-go, from the starting gates, and while it was unfair because this wasn't a hurdle he could overcome, he had come to accept this shortcoming (certainly no pun intended).
Besides, it seemed even tall people were given nicknames like the fight-thirsty eleventh captain. While he was shocked the eleventh captain hadn't dashed his tiny (smaller than himself, tiny) vice captain into the nearest wall, he reckoned that maybe height gave one a certain amount of benevolence too.
Maybe it was something to aspire to but... Sometimes, if he thought too hard about this it made him uncomfortable that the huge brute of a man had a certain amount of finesse which he, a much more civil captain, lacked.
So in order to avoid uncomfortable thoughts that only further illuminated all of his faults it was better instead to think of what he could do now that he had exceeded everyone's expectations with his achievements.
Yes, the best learned technique he had was that he could always sneak up on her silently these days, and the look of surprise on her face almost made it worth it every time.
. . . . . . . . .
If this had all been up to him, he would've made it in time.
If this had been up to him, she would never have been hurt in the first place because she would've admired and respected (and maybeevenloved) him instead.
If this had all been up to him, he would've been taller, older, stronger, much stronger and smarter too, because for all his wit and keen intellect he too had been duped like the rest. He'd been close but not close enough to the answer and that had proven to be his worst mistake.
Height and age little matter to him now as he watches her in the fourth division ward, lying there attached to so many tubes and wires that it makes him sick with regret that after everything he'd ever accomplished in his still shorter life, he still wasn't strong enough to protect her. With every slow labored breath she draws he hates himself a little more for all the If Onlys that are beyond opportunity. The ache of his wounds only recently healed remind him that he followed not for the sake of competition but for the sake of learning how to keep her safe. He trained, he fought, he exceeded for that one reason only...
But what hurts him the most is the knowledge that, for her in the end, one man's illusion had been almost worth dying for.