Disclaimer: I'm pretty certain by the summary you know I own nothing. Nonetheless, standard disclaimers are applied. Also, anything italicized and centered is lyrics taken from the song Jesus Christ by Brand New.
Author's Notes: I've basically been tampering with this idea for months. I always wondered if Hinamori wished never to wake, knowing the ordeal she had put her friends' through (despite her stupid DAMN devotion to Aizen and all). So I suppose this my version of when she finally wakes. And don't ask me about the pairing. . . just don't. I don't even know. I tend to support unconventional ships and I think it could work, maybe, somehow, if Hitsugaya is absent and Kira remains a coward 'cause we all know blondie holds Momo in the highest regard (in other words, he's headoverheels) now if only Gin didn't preoccupy him already. . . Anyways, the pairing could possibly be just viewed as friendship, also. Whichever way you choose to look at it.
Ahhh. I'm so hesitant/flippin nervous to post stories regarding Bleach. Ughh. But, nonetheless, enjoy?
Jesus Christ, that's a pretty face
The kind you'd find on someone that could save
Dreams.
What would a soul be without the ability to dream? To expand their mind across limitations and into boundaries they otherwise could never achieve? Dreams were easily accommodating with a soul's aspirations which could very possibly lead to serendipity in the end.
But is there such a thing as dreaming far too much?
Hinamori Momo had certainly thought so.
See, the downside and ultimate pitfall to dreams is that they were the farthest thing from reality. And, at times, such a downfall usually contradicted the desire to dream in the first place, specifically when the said dream plays as a distraction to reality's bitter existence.
This had to be a dream. Hinamori wanted to cringe, to cry; to sob with bottled frustration at how cruel this was. She didn't wake. No. She wasn't breathing. She didn't deserve to. She deserved to sleep forever, until eternity ended, until the guilt no longer ate at her faintly pulsing heart. And yet, here she was, with wide eyes staring at the room's white ceiling shadowed and imprisoned with gray from the night's lack of light.
With quivering hands she pushed the mask that once flooded her lungs with necessary oxygen off her airways, shakily taking in her first breath of soiled, existing air. She flinched at the deep inhale, a sharp pain stretching her wound and she gingerly rested a hand on the throbbing gash covered with tight bandages. It hurt. But she wasn't sure if the pain was traced from her infliction or her heart.
Aizen.
Tears welled at her eyes but quickly receded when she heard slight movement from the hallway and immediate fear spiraled within her. She didn't want to be found, not by a healer, not now — when she'd rather remain asleep and out of reality's grasp. With little hesitation Hinamori ripped the mask entirely off her face and, after darting her frantic eyes across her room, decided to make a quick escape out one of its windows. After opening the previous secured glass slate she pulled herself through the opening, her frail arms nearly collapsing under her weight, until she eventually tumbled out and onto the empty corridor.
She gasped loudly, grasping tightly onto her torn wound, remaining sprawled across the floor until the pain had lessened to a tolerable amount. Gradually the throb decreased to an uneven tinge and she slowly picked herself up, stumbling down the empty pathway with little sense of direction or an idea where she could carry herself to.
Toushiro? No. She didn't deserve to see him.
Kira-kun then? Absolutely not. He'd alarm the fourth squad immediately and without her consent.
"The hell?" came a sudden voice. She yelped, jerking sharply when she felt a magnitude of weight encircling around her thin arm. Without warning she jabbed the palm of her hand against the perpetrator, receiving nothing close to a bulge in return. Had she really grown (rather, became, for no one can grow worse than they already started as) that weak? "Hinamori? I — you're awake? But how?"
"Hisagi-fukutaichō?" she squeaked in bewilderment, managing to wiggle out of his grasp as she turned to face the dumbstruck lieutenant. She gripped painfully onto his uniform, stretching its fabric as she pulled helplessly at it. "Don't, don't, tell anyone that I'm awake! You mustn't! Please!"
"But I — why?"
Hinamori shook her head feverishly in response, her grip tightening on him. "If I owe anything to you at all, Hisagi-fukutaichō, please return the favor, and don't tell anyone. Please. I don't deserve to be awake!"
Her desperate wails rung loudly in his ears and he cringed how pathetic they sounded, his head now swimming with confusion and little comprehension. Was this really Hinamori Momo? This untidy, hysterical girl dressed in a white robe lacking her trademark bun and devotion and vulnerability in her eyes? No, it couldn't be, but somehow, someway, it was.
"Listen, listen Hinamori." He gently pried her hands from his clothes, guiding them to her sides before he spoke again. "I won't report you now, okay? But you must be quiet or you'll draw attention to yourself. Now, where do you want to go? Do you want to see Hitsugaya-taichō?" She shook her head hastily. "Then Kira or Abarai?" She flinched at each individual name. He sighed, releasing her wrists before commanding, "Follow me."
She nodded but he could see dawning perplexity and infecting doubt creeping behind her large eyes. He wondered where her naivety had gone. Left with Aizen, most likely. Or shattered along with her heart. Despite his curiosity, he didn't interrogate or question her. He couldn't afford to care. Not for someone like her. Someone who was defined with the ability to crumble your world with one step.
No. Not for someone like her.
Do I divide and fall apart?
Cause my bright is too slight to hold back all my dark
Hisagi had led the wounded, stumbling girl toward his room, allowing her to sit at the foot of his bed while he sat his room's desk with his head lowered and his gaze elsewhere. He had little to say to her. Rather, he had a lot to say to her, but had little words to use.
It was Hinamori who spoke first. "Hisagi-fukutaichō —"
"Just Hisagi," he deadpanned, maintaining his steady stare on the room's blank floor.
"Why. . . why did you do this for me?"
"I figured I did owe you," he responded nonchalantly, well aware her gaze shifted sharply toward him upon his answer. "When you tried to save my life — rather, risked yours — when you came back for me during our time in the academy. I suppose one night won't be too bad. Besides," he added as a loud, gruff afterthought, "it won't take long before someone notices your absence. They check on you enough."
Hinamori blushed, hastily retreating her stare. "O-oh." She paused before breathing out a faint, "Th-thank you."
The words clung to the atmosphere, suspending her weak gratitude in mid air and vividly displayed her appreciation to his cold pride. He didn't falter the slightest, not outwardly at least. Inside he felt his heart skip at her simple lettered thanks. Maybe he owes her one too.
Regardless, it would still be worthless and a wasted effort.
"Matsumoto is lucky to be loved." Hisagi cocked an eyebrow though he still refused to meet Hinamori's offering eyes. In response to his questioning gesture she clarified herself more, "He loves her, doesn't he, Hisagi? Ichimaru. He loves Matsumoto and that's why he fled the night. . . the night I tried to attack Toushiro. Because he didn't want to kill her and finish the trouble I caused. Because he loves her."
Tragic how worthless emotions deemed themselves to be despite how aspiring and delightful they are to hold in one's possession. However, one single feeling could lead you to second-guess yourself and allow darkness to consume your vulnerability, destroying your intentions in the end.
"That's the same reason Hitsugaya rescued you," he retaliated eventually, managing to cut her words with his.
"Not in the same context," corrected Hinamori. He failed to respond and silence quickly ensued only to be broken minutes later. "Hisagi?" The near plead in her wavering voice had gradually lifted his gaze from the floor to her. "How do you ask for one's forgiveness without apologizing?"
"Without apologizing?" he emphasized and she nodded once. The raven-haired lieutenant sighed and ran his hand across the nape of his slick neck, threading his fingers through his resting hair. "I don't know, Hinamori. Why would you not apologize to begin with?"
"Because it's useless, especially when your actions render it worthless."
"Don't think about attacking Hitsugaya because of Aizen. That was a mistake." he argued quietly. "You were simply blinded with devotion, and besides, that's something you need in order to serve under someone in the first place."
Hinamori's downcast eyes had not faltered and a forlorn expression settled upon her paled and thinned face. He then wondered how far down her heart had descended, how shattered it remained, and how empty it was. There may be no limit or boundary to her pain, though. After all, she had bore the most with Aizen's betrayal, and she had caused the most when it came to Hitsugaya and Kira. Both men, godlike in their own ways, were completely stripped of their integrity and capability to decipher good from bad. One betraying his friends; the other his morals, all the while Hinamori maintained a pawn position in her beloved captain's eyes.
Long live the king.
"Hisagi?" His eyes focused on her again, moonlight scaring her pristine face as its shadows waltzed across her skin through the room's nearby window. She guided her lax hands from her sides to the pool of her lap, resting her quivering fingers beside one another. The concept of feeling and the sense of touch had been long forgotten upon Aizen's absence and now, now her once numbed abilities were cruelly given back to her. When she needed them the least. Pausing to collect herself before her trembling had traveled to the rest of her visible body, Hinamori eventually finished, "How do you let go of something you never had to begin with?"
A vague picture of Tousen had mingled within Hisagi's grasp and for a fleeting moment he almost tried to reach it. He sustained himself, however, aware where his actions would lead him. Disappointment. Instead he concentrated hard on trying to answer her crippling question. How does one let go of something they never truly possessed?
"Not many people have to capability of doing so." Hinamori's eyes dimmed. "But perhaps that's what builds a person. The inability to let go or comprehend something that appears to be an enigma to them. It makes them stronger until they can."
"What if you never can?" she countered.
"Don't be such a pessimist, Hinamori-san, you'll sicken yourself more." he smirked faintly. In return, the doe-eyed girl flinched with shame and Hisagi felt a sympathetic smile tear at his lips. "You're ruining what should be a happy moment for you."
"My biggest apologies, Hisagi!" she squeaked hastily, lowering her gaze. "My troubles are my troubles. I shouldn't burden you with them. Y-you probably don't want to listen anyw—" A firm hand placed on her shoulder ceased her mid sentence and she pulled her eyes upward to meet his. How fast had he moved for her not to sense his incoming presence?
"I didn't say I didn't want to listen to you, I just wish you wouldn't be so hard on yourself. Mistakes can be made."
"Only humans are authorized to make mistakes," insisted Hinamori firmly. "There is no tolerance for them in Gotei 13."
Upon his friend's reply Hisagi's smirk fell and he sighed. "You have forgotten what it is to live, Hinamori. Did you know that?" he inquired and she squinted in confusion. He bowed his head in silent disappointment before he slipped his settling hand off her frail shoulder, internally fearing it would break under his weight if he allowed his hand to linger any longer. "I think it's time for you to sleep."
"Hisagi, I have slept for months."
"Then a few more hours won't hurt. Hopefully, you don't snore. Your friends have a tendency to do so."
Hinamori felt a smile flicker at her lips, assuming the lieutenant was referring to her dear academy friends Renji and Izuru. But it hurt to smile and felt like such a foreign concept, something that will take an adequate amount of time to become acquainted with again. Instead a grotesque grin masking what was meant to be a tiny smile painted itself across her chapped lips. A strange comforting feeling stirred within her clenched stomach and her body felt heavy, the upper portion of hers slowly evening out with her lower one as she drooped to a side of the mattress.
"Hinamori-san," Hisagi mumbled at the fading girl he was looming over. She mumbled something incoherent in return and he continued quietly, "I have to report that you have woken tomorrow."
"Yes, yes, of course. I wouldn't imagine or expect you to do otherwise." He nodded, beginning to turn only to feel delicate fingers ghost over his hand. His eyes widened with surprise and he quickly returned his gaze upon her. "And that's Momo to you."
He then found a smile on her exhausted face. A smile that appeared to be somewhat of a silhouette of the same one she held in their early academy days. Something so familiar but so forgotten. It made him realize how much he missed her innocence. How he missed her. Not this empty shadow of a girl he shamefully could claim he had grown relatively accustomed to.
"Hisa—"
"Shūhei," he corrected quietly.
Her smile brightened the slightest before she said. "Shūhei, did you know I never broke? And that tomorrow, when they come for me, they have nothing to heal? Maybe you are right. Maybe I just forgot how to live."
Tears outlined and traced her trembling lips still strained to form a wavering smile and her fingers now greedily snatched his hand. This was the first time she allowed herself to cry just for herself. Not for Hitsugaya. Not for Aizen. But for herself. Only herself. Her grasp tightened.
He feebly returned it.
"Shūhei, will you do one more thing for me?"
"What is it?"
"Teach me how to live again."
Do you think that we could work out a sign
So I'll know it's you and that it's over so I won't even try.