HitsuHinaWeek2018 Day 5 Theme: Orange/Hot Chocolate
A/N: Bit different from my other stories, this is from the perspective of an enemy! It's around a century or so after the ten year timeskip, where Toshiro and Momo are already together and (I believe) MOmo would have Bankai, so the enemy will go unnamed haha
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach. Bleach belongs to Tite Kubo.
He knew he was powerful. That he needed both a captain and lieutenant to activate their Bankai proves as much. He was sure he had trapped them, made them each other's weakness. From their abilities they were doomed as a team; fire and ice were opposing elements, meant to bring the other down.
He wasn't afraid to admit that he had underestimated them in his arrogance, his good progress in the fight leading him to obvious trains of thought. He should have known better. He was fighting a genius and a kido master: such a thing was a death wish.
And his was granted.
The battlefield had become a plane of ice, hiding its slippery nature behind its beauty, but he knew to watch his step, wait for the fire to melt it away and grant him back his sure footing. The man, much unchanged in his Bankai state save for the wings on his back, jumped away as his partner, now sporting a look more align with a temple priestess than that of the standard shinigami, waved her weapon. Transformed from its previous sword state to a khakkhara made of twisting wood, flames grew into a raging wave of fire as they followed her movements and rushed towards him.
He jumped up into the air, happy to finally be given back more stable ground. He looked at the flames, waiting for the ice to melt, waiting for the flames to extinguish, waiting for their faces as they realized how much of a hindrance they are to each other.
Instead what he saw was a thing of pure beauty.
Orange. Beautiful, raging orange flames, reflecting off of the ice, spreading rays upon rays of orange of all shades in all directions. It was as if the sunset had escaped the sky, settling on the icy earth and showing all that were near its true angelic nature. The flames danced on uninterrupted, daring anyone to try and stop its unpredictable movements. Their wintry stand held on, undamaged, glistening as if in mockery of those who dared questioned its resilience.
His mind tried to think of a rationalization of the spectacle before him. Can the ice not be melted? Were the flames not as hot as their billowing forms suggested? Or perhaps their control of their elements are so fine-tuned and so synchronized with the other that instead of clashing they came together, forming a synergistic unit not unlike that of their Zanpaktou.
In the end, he knows it doesn't matter. As he comes back to his senses and sees only the woman in front of him, smiling a knowing smile as if this were not the first she has seen this very thing happen, he knows he has lost. His keen eye on the much faster man was one of many things that had kept him alive during this fight. Once he hears the voice behind him, he knows he has met his end.
"Beautiful, isn't it?"
He couldn't agree more. He's glad the heavenly sight is the last he'll ever see.