Love is a Sickness

Toushiro Hitsugaya continued to keep his eyes closed, Hyourinmaru in his lap; a still being on top of the rock. He could hear the small movements that Rangiku Matsumoto made, his vice-captain.

He was, in fact, not very far from snapping at Matsumoto again. She just wasn't going to be able to commune with her zanpaktou at this rate, let alone materialize Haineko. He wondered if she was still thinking about what the fortune-teller had told her.

It was, he decided grumpily, a mistake from the beginning.

But Matsumoto had insisted.

Indeed, the fortune-teller looked colorful enough to attract people. Even if all that she was saying was completely made-up, she was theatrical enough to be entertaining.

Huge golden earrings hung down from her earlobes. The bright red scarf tying her hair back was all the brighter from her dark skin. And she looked old. Old enough to have seen the world begin.

Rangiku, not content with blowing her pay on clothes, had to drag the Tenth Division captain over to the fortune-teller.

"Come on, captain, it'll be fun!"

"Matsumoto," growled Hitsugaya.

But, of course, it wouldn't put off Rangiku. She'd met him rude and cold, and when she wakes up tomorrow, he'd still be rude and cold. So she pulled some more, however, she hadn't even completely pulled the white-haired captain over when the fortune-teller spoke:

"Are you sure you want me to read your future, my dear?"

And Rangiku let go of her captain, surprised. The fortune-teller's voice was as smooth as cream; it made for a disconcerting conversation when her face was a study in wrinkles. Even her eyes were just slits. The large-breasted woman glanced down at her captain, sure that Hitsugaya had already escaped, but no, he was there staring at the old woman intently.

"Ai, sir, your eyes are too old for you. You should think about kicking your feet back and just eating watermelons again while you watch a beautiful sunset."

Rangiku inhaled sharply at the old woman's words.

"Who the hell are you?" Hitsugaya said, glaring.

"Ah, easy, sir. I'm harmless. I just have the Sight. You're both strange," the old woman mused, "human, but not, at the same time. Like I said before, you might not want your future read, Miss."

"Why is that?" Hitsugaya asked, voice soft now, but still quite unfriendly.

The fortune-teller grinned. Her teeth were also a startling white. "She suffers from a sickness."

"What?!" Rangiku said, speaking up.

Hitsugaya relaxed by a fraction, "Oh, we know she's a drunkard."

"Ehhh," Rangiku gave a pained glance at her captain. "That's just harsh, captain."

Hitsugaya shook his head, arms crossing.

"Ah, well, there's that and there's this," the fortune-teller said thoughtfully. "You shouldn't wait anymore, girl."

And all joking was swept aside when the fortune-teller said that.

How many times, Hitsugaya thought, did he catch Rangiku sleeping or looking out of the window with a most un-Rangiku expression on her face? His vice-captain had her own secrets, her own troubles, indeed.

The fortune-teller was not smiling anymore either. "She suffers," and she pointed at Rangiku again, "from a sickness. You cannot let yourself dangle on the wind, girl. Your heart will break every time you see his back getting smaller as he walks away."

"I don't have to pay for that bit of fortune-telling, do I?" Rangiku said suddenly, facetious.

The fortune-teller merely looked at her. "No, that was free. Anybody with half a brain can see you're sick."

And just like that Rangiku turned and walked away.

But the fortune-teller was wrong, Hitsugaya thought. His vice-captain was no amateur in secreting away her emotions. She was, in fact, very good at keeping face. She had that much in common with Ichimaru. The deeper part of them, the ones that held the longing, the desire, the unasked-for memories...they could hide that, very well. The difference was Matsumoto was no snake. She did not do it out of ill-intention, but to protect herself.

A sigh from his vice-captain finally made Hitsugaya open his eyes and bark, "Matsumoto! Are you really serious about this?"

"These lovelies need a break," Matsumoto replied archly, pointing to her chest.

A tic began to pulse in Hitsugaya's forehead. "Get back to training."

"Yes, yes, captain." The woman said placatingly. She settled herself again, sword in her hands.

"Matsumoto," said Hitsugaya quietly, "you need to be ready for them."

Rangiku's expression changed by the hair, and it was that un-Rangiku expression, the one that spoke volumes about worlds inside his vice-captain's head, worlds composed of dry, cracked fields, snowy landscapes, and a figure in the distance. They both knew that what he meant was him. Be ready for him.

"Young sir," the fortune-teller had called out before Hitsugaya followed the vice-captain to the street. "Sir, surrounded as you are by women who are sick, you should be wary not to be too far from reach. For both of them will need you."

"What are you talking about?"

The fortune-teller had smiled at him again, her white teeth flashing, "Even if that girl over there isn't as obvious about it as the other one, the dark-haired one, that big-boobs must also accept that he may not come back, and purge herself."

Hitsugaya hesitated, and finally said it, anyway, "Matsumoto doesn't need me for that. Whatever happens, she'll pull through." And then he also walked away.