Watching her was getting harder for Izuru. Sometimes she seemed too lovely to look at. Other times, there was that lost, broken look that she only wore when looking straight at Izuru. That look killed him a little more each time he saw it.

Momo had never really had a particularly 'special' look for Izuru. Her look for Aizen was--had been--one of pure adoration; her look for Toshiro was one of a conniving younger sister, but for Izuru, he got the same look she would have given Renji. Izuru hadn't minded it, really. It was painful, though, being equated with a person who was so blatantly just a friend.

And then he got what he had always fantasized as 'his' look. It wasn't adorably innocent or intoxicatingly coy. He was a reminder; he was a remnant of a time she wanted to forget. The shards of her soul were bared in that hurt glance. Izuru wanted to hold her until she managed to cry those unshed tears and then keep holding her until those tears faded. He couldn't, though, and that knowledge broke him.

It was hard to be around her. So very hard.

-

Momo sat on the edge of the wooden porch, hugging her knees. She pretended not to notice people going by, murmuring greetings or whispering sympathetically to one another. They thought she was strange. No, worse than that, they thought she was weak.

It wasn't fair. No one could understand what she was going through. No one.

"Momo?" his voice was soft and tentative. Not the thunderous roar like that day in the courtyard. Izuru was downright frightening when he was angry. Momo squeezed her eyes shut at the memory and felt shameful as hot tears caught on the lashes.

"How—" Izuru cut himself. 'How are you?' would be such a stupid question now. It was obvious. She was in a million pieces. She wasn't fine; she wasn't close to fine.

The wood next to her made a creaking noise as Izuru sat down easily.

"Would you like to go someplace quieter?" he asked her softly, attempting to work up the nerve to place a hand on her back. He tried to ignore the bustle of people walking behind him.

"Sure," she whispered. Even if Izuru reminded her of all the horrible things that had happened, she didn't feel as weak around him. No, she felt just as awful and helpless, but she didn't feel as ashamed. It didn't hurt as much around him. Izuru understood, Izuru wouldn't judge, Izuru would try his hardest to protect her. That was how he had gotten embroiled into this whole grand scheme. All he wanted to do was protect her, and he trusted the wrong person. Momo felt grateful, and by virtue of gratitude, leaned against him softly as they got up and walked..

"I apologize," Izuru's voice was very quiet as they approached a tree, a weeping willow, fittingly enough. He pushed aside the branches and sat quietly at the trunk of the tree.

"What for?" she sat next to him, once again hugging her knees and wishing Izuru would place a comforting arm around her and make this all go away.

"This is my fault. I should have been smarter than this," Izuru brought a hint of self-loathing in his tone, but the bite in his voice made Momo shrink even further into the shadows of the tree.

"You couldn't have known—and even if you had—" she put a shy hand on his shoulder, "—they would have killed you. And I would have died a little bit too."

Izuru felt a familiar pink tint his cheeks. It was nice to be back in this situation with Momo, nice to pretend a thousand people didn't think him a fool or a traitor, nice to just soak up her presence.

"Momo…" he shook his head, "you did die a little. I can see it."

"Please don't say you understand—" she began to beg him, tears welling up in her eyes.

"I don't. I can't," he murmured quietly, pulling her into an embrace. "I will not pretend to feel the pain you're going through, and I know I cannot comprehend the hurt you've known." He felt weak too now. He couldn't help her. He couldn't say the words she needed to hear; hell, he didn't even know what those words were. "I used to think it mattered if I understood, but now I just don't know…" he felt her sobs beginning to come, at first a slow trembling in her shoulders that he doubted he would have noticed had he not been holding her so close. Soon, small, despairing noises pulled themselves from her lips, and she trembled in his grasp.

"Thank you. Thank you," she whispered softly against his neck. Izuru felt her move up tentatively as her sobs began to subside.

"Thank you," Momo whispered again. Her own daring shocked her as she moved away from him for just a moment. The pressure against his lips was so tentative and light that for a moment, Izuru was sure he had imagined it. But that look in her eyes of adoration wasn't imagined. Izuru removed his hands from her shoulders and moved them to cup her face instead. Slanting his mouth against hers, he attempted to pour years of silent yearning, and a tender, unspoken promise—I will protect you, I will make you happy, I will always be here for you—into the kiss, hoping to permeate the layers of sadness.

Her arms tightened around his neck, and her fingers shyly touched his hair. Tentative. Shy. It was too adorable. Izuru tightened his arms around her, leaning back against the tree to hold her even closer as he continued to gently move his lips against hers.

Izuru whispered three words into the kiss. Three words that he had wanted to say from the day he saw her, three wonderful words that made Momo tense in his grasp momentarily before melting into him. Those were the words she needed to hear. He had finally managed to do what he had wanted to do from the beginning: save her.

-

Someone on dA wanted more! To be honest, I lost my flashdrive (it's somewhere around here) which has the half-finished sequel to First Light on it. I have some reeeeeeally depressing stuff on it too, so maybe it's a good thing?

(oh, and if you think this is depressing, in unpublished oneshots I have killed Momo twice. Maybe I'll try killing Izuru sometime.)