Woot, my first ficcie with Hina and Hitsu. This is my take on their relationship- which, by the way, doesn't always have to be romantic- and I've also explored a new level of Matsu and Hitsu's relationship here. And no, Hitsu isn't two-timing them here- he's WAY to honorable and innocent and cute for something like that!
NOTE: This used to be titled "A Little Too Late", but inspiration fell like a brick - well, to be more precise, my brother's baseball- on my head this morning, and I've re-vamped this fic a little. I also added a poem I wrote a while ago, and after inspiration struck me- quite painfully, might I add!- the poem, which I modified a bit, seemed to fit rather well.
SUMMARY: Hinamori realizes Aizen never loved her, but is she too late to find the one who did?
PAIRINGS: one-sided Hina/Hitsu, Matsu/Hitsu
WARNINGS: brief nudity and references to sex
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Bleach, and I make no money off of this. But I do own the poem! Cuz I wrote it! O
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WITHERED PETALS (previously titled "A Little Too Late")
By Neko Oni
The peach blossom has died.
No longer does she bloom for us.
I watched as her petals,
once so soft and warm with life,
became dry and crackling dust,
then fell one by one
into the cold, blackened ashes
where the maggots fester.
- Neko Oni
Hinamori lay in her bed at home, alone with her thoughts in the dim room. She'd been released from fourth division's care about three weeks ago. She was slowly building her strength back up after her long stay in fourth division; it wasn't just her physical health she was building back up. Once released, she had bed rest for one week, the next she had been allowed limited movement around her apartment, and now she was allowed out for brief walks.
And she knew where she wanted to go on her first one. Hitsugaya Toshirouu. She smiled softly- she'd go see him. Time to make amends, start over. Pick up the pieces and live again. Smiling, she let her mind wander over all that had happened. All the truths she'd learned, lying in that sick bed all those months…
Aizen had never loved her. She was nothing but a tool to him. He never even cared a teensy drop about her- he wasn't even remotely fond of her, like one would be of a pet. No, she was lower than a dog, than a goldfish, in his eyes. She was a tool- an inanimate object like a pen or toilet paper, to be used and discarded at will.
Pathetic thing was, it had taken her this long to realize it. All those months, day in, day out, of lying on her sick bed after waking from the coma left her with nothing to do but think. And think she had. She'd gone through her heart, arguing with it, trying to kill her devotion and love to a traitor. A murderer.
Her mind and heart had reeled against that. Aizen had been her world, the only one she'd seen. Yes, that world was a lie, but she'd loved that lie with all of her being. Even when he'd miraculously came back from the dead, she didn't question it. Her love for him came first. Surely, her adored, beloved Aizen-sama had a good reason to get her to try and kill her best friend since childhood. It hadn't mattered- Aizen was back, alive.
And he'd tried to kill her, and Toushiro. Upon awakening, she'd made excuses for that, too. There had to be a good reason. Maybe, Ichimaru had forced Aizen into it. Aizen had left because, surely, he must be spying on Ichimaru. He was still one of them. Aizen-sama was brave, noble. Yes, Aizen-taichou couldn't have turned traitor. Hinamori had adamantly clung to those beliefs.
Until Matsumoto brought reality thundering down upon her. Those delusions shattered around Hinamori's pretty little ears. For once, the vivacious, buxom fukutaichou of the tenth division had been grim and silent, almost remorseful, as she handed Hinamori medical reports she'd knicked from Unohana.
Hinamori read her own medical report with trembling fingers, but it was when she saw Hitsugaya's that her heart finally broke, and the tears poured, smearing the months old ink and neat, meticulously printed kanji. No one had told Hinamori how bad it was- everyone tip-toed around her, fearful for her fragile state of mind. Only Matsumoto had the balls to step up and show her the truth.
Along with the report, Matsumoto had also included graphic, gruesome photos of the young taichou. Hitsugaya laying in a puddle of his own blood, big turquoise eyes dull as his life ebbed away. Hitsugaya limp, looking very child-like and fragile, hooked up to many machines such as a respirator and Ivs. Close ups of Hitsugaya's wounds- thread holding the delicate, pale flesh together; fluid leaking out; the skin around an infected site puffy and an angry red.
Aizen-sama had done that. His hands, his blade, had spilled her dear Shirou-chan's blood. Photos and reports fell to the floor as Hinamori had cried, braking into helpless sobs in Matsumoto's arms. The bigger fukutaichou had held her, stroking her hair while Hinamori screamed Aizen's and Toshirouu's names over and over.
Once she'd cried herself out, Matsumoto tucked her in, gathered the scattered, stolen medical documents and photos, and went to leave. "Why?" Hinamori asked softly. Why would Matsumoto show her something so painful- something that broke her heart?
Matsumoto's cornflower blue eyes had been bright with sorrow as she looked at the pitiful wreck of a scrawny fukutaichou over her shoulder. "Because I can't stand seeing Shirou-chan in pain. Seeing you like this pains him. And I couldn't think of any other way to wake you." Then she'd left.
Hinamori hadn't understood her words then, but she did now. She'd awakened to the truth. Aizen was a traitor. A killer. But it still hurt her torn heart. So, she tried not to think about it. Tried not to think about him, all the times they'd spent together, how close they'd been. How close she thought they'd been, anyway. It was all lies.
Her thoughts turned to the good old days, when her life had been filled with truth. With love. She thought of the boy she'd grown up with. The boy who'd protected her, who loved her. At Shinigami Academy, she'd made friends with Abarai and Izuru, but Toshirouu had always been closest to her heart. Until Aizen-sama entered. Now, nearly free of her former taichou, the adorable, teal-eyed boy filled her thoughts, as he'd done in her pre-Aizen days.
But the beautiful boy who haunted her dreams never materialized before her in the flesh. He never came to visit. No one did. Well, there had been a few, but they were rare and far between. Kira came to see her when she first woke up.
He'd been deeply depressed and nervous- he came not out of desire for her well-being, but to commiserate with the only other person in Soul Society who still felt loyalty to a traitor. Matsumoto was strong- she'd buried her hurt by Gin and moved on. Hinamori and Kira weren't so fortunate, so Kira had come to her in hopes they could lick their wounds together.
Staring up at the ceiling, Hinamori smiled sadly. Guess she hadn't been much help there. Kira hadn't been to see her since. The only visitor she ever got was Matsumoto, and that was only once every few months. Her bubbly personality was strained, suppressed. Matsumoto didn't want to see her- the blonde was only there because of Toshirouu. But she stubbornly never said a word about the tenth division taichou. When Hinamori asked, Matsumoto would just shake her head and leave.
There was something hidden in those blue, blue eyes. Something Matsumoto was too kind to say. It was blame. Hinamori begged and pleaded with her for a word- anything- on how her dear Shirou-chan was doing. Once, after Hinamori had a major bout of tears, Matsumoto had said, very, very reluctantly, "He's hurting. And not from Aizen's blade."
Those words and that look had been her undoing. She had tried to kill her best friend. She threw away all their years together, turned on him without batting an eyelash. Never once did she question Aizen-sama. Of course he was right- he was her Aizen-sama. If he wanted Hitsugaya dead, then she'd kill him. Anything for Aizen-sama.
That was the old Hinamori; the one who loved Aizen, who was under his spell. This Hinamori was a free shinigami. Her heart was her own, and she was going to give it to Hitsugaya. She knew he'd never hurt her.
Hinamori slid the door to her apartment open, closing her eyes and inhaling the crisp, fresh air. It had been so long since she'd been outside. The day seemed extra sweet. She smoothed her pink yukata, checked her plain brown hair was still in its pastel yellow clip before she skipped off to search for her Shirou-chan, heart on her sleeve, ready to give it to him.
Tbc…
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Reviews and comments are always appreciated! What's your take on Hina/Hitsu and Matsu/Hitsu?
