Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach, or any of the Bleach characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo: the genius behind the captivating manga that started it all. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.
Light My Way
He'd never liked fireworks. There was too much noise associated with them, and the scent of smoke and sulfur irritated his nose. But he'd put up with them for his friends who had started a tradition of shooting them off for his birthday. The first time he'd seen such a display was a few years earlier. Six or seven, if he remembered correctly. Aizen had been with them at that time. The kind-hearted man whom Momo had fallen in love with.
All that was left now was to stare blankly at the calendar where a big red circle sat, signifying when his birthday was. Matsumoto's doing for sure. He didn't need a reminder of when his birthday was, let alone little hearts and stars drawn in a circle around the day. Such a thing was distracting. For the rest of the month, when he turned to look at the calendar, his eyes would undoubtedly be drawn to his lieutenant's colorful drawings.
He'd chew her out after the festivities were over with.
As expected, there was a note on his desk earlier that morning. And, as it had said last year and the year before, he was to report to the barracks at sundown. Due to all the trouble Matsumoto had caused lately, skipping out on her duties to go play in the woods, Toshiro had a good mind to just skip the event entirely. It was, after all, her idea.
The hours flew by as he worked, attending to paperwork and visiting wounded subordinates as he moved about the Seireitei, looking for anything that might keep him busy well past sundown. Apparently, everyone knew about his birthday, as they offered up their best wishes for the year to come. At once point, as he'd finished helping Ikkaku scrub pornographic graffiti off of the walls of the Eleventh Division barracks, Lieutenant Kusajishi had shown up and shoved her half-eaten blueberry lollipop into his mouth, apologizing for having eaten half of his birthday present.
He'd thrown it out and rinsed his mouth with the hose when she wasn't looking.
As he did every year, Captain Ukitake had left an ice sculpture of some sort, covered with a sheet, in his office with a note and a box of fruit snacks in place of the usual jar of candy. The young captain had sighed at this, fearful about looking under the sheet, as it was probably another life-size rendition of himself. He'd also expressly told Ukitake to stop leaving him sweets, but he supposed that a box of dried fruit slices wasn't quite so bad as candy.
Once having moved the mysterious sculpture out of the way, Toshiro had departed to the Ninth to see Hisagi, asking if anyone had come by asking for their help ads to be put into the Seireitei Bulletin. To Toshiro's relief, the scarred lieutenant handed him a small stack of papers, thanking him for his efforts and wishing him a happy birthday as he also handed over a photo book of Matsumoto in her various bathing suits.
After discretely slipping the photo book through Captain Kyoraku's office window, Toshiro had then decided to avoid Hisagi this time next year.
Matsumoto would also be punished for allowing such a filthy thing to be published when she was supposed to be working.
When he'd entered the Twelfth Division to aid Akon with piling books onto several shelves, he was grateful that none of the researchers cared enough to acknowledge that it was his birthday. To them, it was just like any other day, where Captain Kurotsuchi was irately breathing down their necks in heated anticipation over a series of test results. Toshiro, being present at the time, was no exception to this fact.
Upon visiting the Fifth, he found the office where Momo worked to be suspiciously empty. There was a note on the desk that had been addressed to him, requesting that he meet her at sundown in one of the many gardens at the Kuchiki mansion. He had smiled at this, pleased to know that he had an excellent reason for ignoring Matsumoto's note.
When the time came and the sun finally began to set behind the mountains, Toshiro had walked quietly to the Kuchiki mansion, a smile on his face as he quietly observed the beautiful rose-colored light that now hung over the Seireitei. He was admitted immediately when he arrived, and the elderly man, a servant to the Kuchiki family, led him through the halls of the mansion and out into the shockingly empty garden.
The young captain stepped forward, feet sliding gently against the grass. He saw nothing. No Momo, and no iced cake, as she made every year. It was puzzling that Momo would miss a meeting that she had requested.
When a pair of hands clamped over his eyes, pressing him into a heaving bosom, Toshiro grimaced and began shouting at his lieutenant about spying on him and interfering. She laughed, letting him go so as to reveal that a number of his friends and comrades were seated at the bottom of the hill, waiting for him. He felt like an idiot for not realizing that Momo was in on the entire thing, but he couldn't stay mad at her.
She ran up to him, grabbing his hand as she led him down to the party, shoving a bite of the iced cake into his mouth as she did each year. He smiled, wiping the frosting away with a hand as she hugged him. Momo then pulled Toshiro to his feet, dragging him over to the covered sculpture that he'd ditched in his office earlier that afternoon. He grimaced, wanting to close his eyes as Momo yanked away the sheet, revealing a well-carved dragon with several fireworks having taken the place of the spines along its back.
He watched in silent awe as Matsumoto ran up and lit the firework on the dragon's tail, sending sparks through its solid form as it sprung to life. The dragon slid into the air, writhing about like the spirit of his zanpakuto before it shot into the sky, exploding in a frightening display of fire and shattered ice.
The young captain smiled as Momo hugged him again, kissing him on the cheek as their friends cheered the fireworks that followed.
It was then he decided that the scent of sulfur, when shared with friends, wasn't quite so bad.