Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach
Cover art property of Zanazac of dA
Rating T
Summary: He had betrayed her. Hurt her. Stabbed her. Tried to kill her twice. But he could never break her. Because that is what she was, a heart of courage.
O-O-O
Heart of Courage
O-O-O
Slowly, ever so slowly, she began to wake, noticing the room she was in. The drapes on the windows of the room were raised, letting in the light of the sun.
"Where…" The word slipped from her lips, as her blurry eyesight slowly regained focus. Realizing that something was obscuring her vision, she reached up, only to find that it was her own hair that fell down her face. As she tried to brush it away, a sharp pain riddled her chest, right at the point where she was…
'Stabbed…'
She stopped moving, allowing her hand to motionlessly lie on her forehead, her fingers still intertwined with the strands of her dark brown hair.
The constant, never-ending beeping of the ECG machine seemed to do nothing but amplify the monotonousness of her environment – an empty white room, with white curtains currently pulled to the sides to let in the sun. The only thing that occupied the space of the room, as far as she could see, was the very bed she lied in, along with the few pieces of life-support equipment to which she was hooked up, positioned somewhere over her right shoulder. Slowly, her thoughts began to accelerate back normal, and she started to comprehend where she was.
'A hospital, most likely,' she concluded. 'At least it's not a morgue,' she added morbidly, but for some reason the sarcasm in her thoughts seemed do lift her spirits, even if only slightly.
'Aizen-tai-, Aizen…' she corrected herself. 'Did they subdue him?' She wondered, as she turned her head to gaze through the window to her left, only to find herself unable to look at anything but the clear blue sky that seemed to stretch forever. The window was too high for her to see anything else from her bed. She let out a small sigh, as the twittering of the birds from the outside seemed to deny the many battles that had taken place, as if it was all a dream. Turning her head to the right, she noticed the hilt of her zanpakutou protruding over the edge of her bed, to which it was leaned against. Raising her hand from her face, she reached for the sword, allowing the strands of hair to fall back across her forehead. The fingers of her frail, shaky hand slowly tried to wrap themselves around the hilt, but alas, she could not find the strength in her to raise the blade off the ground. Giving up, she allowed the blade to skid back and hit the marvel floor of the room with its sheathed tip. She did not, however, remove her grip from the hilt itself.
Time slowly passed, measured only by the continuous beeping of the ECG. It could have been mere seconds, but then again, it could have been hours. She did not care.
'Tobiume…' Her fingers increased the strength of her hold of the hilt of her zanpakutou, as she began slowly forcing herself to rise. Pushing with her elbows, she lifted her head off the pillow. Beads of sweat tinkled down her frowning brow, as the strain became clearly evident across her face. With her white teeth bared, and neck muscles exposed, she jerked herself into a sitting position. In a moment, her eyesight fled, replaced by a sense of nauseousness, with the whole room spinning around her.
Her fingers never let go of her sword.
Just as quickly as it came, the nausea had disappeared.
'I should probably wait for someone from the fourth division to get these things off…' she thought, gently pulling on the electrode attached slightly above her wrist. 'But that's all assuming there's someone coming.' With the horrid injuries that they've suffered, the captains would most likely be prioritized.
She would not wait.
Pulling them off carefully, one at a time, she freed herself of the wires. As she sat up, she noticed a tiny nightstand beside her bed, and on it, an empty glass vase.
"What…" she spoke jokingly, only to cough, "…no flowers?" Oddly though, it didn't bother her that much. After all, the people she cared about were never so much into pretty things. They were all in the battle to stop Aizen, however, and that could mean that they were either injured or…
"Fine. They're all…" She whispered, reassuring herself, then took a deep breath"…fine."
In one of the drawers in the nightstand, she found clean folded Shihakushō items of her size, with only the black kosode and the footwear missing. 'I don't want to do this...' she thought nervously as she took of her hospital gown and slowly dressed herself. It took some considerable effort, but after a lot of ouches and patience, she managed to do it. Dressed in black and white, she put her feet on the cold hospital floor and gathered her strength. With a sigh, she finally let go of her zanpakutou.
"Okay... one...two..." she nervously licked her dried-up lips, "three!" Pushing against the edge of the bed, she managed to stand upright. Hinamori closed her eyes, covering them with her hand in an effort to stop the room from spinning. The sense of nausea soon retreated once more.
She opened her eyes and looked down to her feet.
'Okay Momo... baby steps now...' That was one step. 'One at a time...' And another. She was feeling weak in the knees, and her chest felt like it was on fire. 'Keep it together...' Step followed step, and soon enough, the door got a lot closer. She was sweating, and the pain inside her chest kept her from breathing in too deeply.
'Stopstopstop... just a minute.' She reached out and put her hand on the doorframe. Hinamori leaned against it to catch her breath. The ringing in her ears made it hard for her to focus. She pulled herself together, reached for the doorknob, and just a few steps later, she was outside her hospital room. The hallway she found herself in was no less bleakly monotonous then the room she just left. White walls, white floor, white ceiling and windows on one side showing nothing but clear blue sky.
'So I'm obviously not on the ground floor...' She walked up to the nearest window and looked outside, immediately recognizing the building next to the hospital as the barracks of the Fourth Division. The window itself was slightly open, allowing the soft breeze to wash over her face. It was weird, just standing there. Too calm, too peaceful. She felt as if she only needed to close her eyes, and she could wish all the bad things that have happened away, to make things as they were. The naïveness of such a thought left her smiling softly. 'If only it was that easy... but it's not.' Hinamori continued moving down the hallway. She tried to open several of the doors, on her floor, but all were locked – most likely because they were out of use. Finally, the last door before the stairwell opened when she turned the doorknob. Unsurprisingly, it looked just the same as the room she woke in. There was a man lying in the bed, unconscious. Just like she was, he too was connected to an ECG machine. He looked familiar, like she had seen him somewhere before... It was that bright orange hair that jarred her memory.
"Kurosaki Ichigo..." she whispered his name and gently giggled. It was silly, really. But the first thing she thought was: I always thought he'd be bigger. And scarier. Definitely more intimidating. Looking at him lie comatose like that... He was only fifteen, and it showed on his face.
'Young. Too young. Too young for something like this to happen to him.' She too was just as young as he was. She may have lived more years, but human concept of years was not something that could be applied to the shinigami. There was a chair next to his bed. The seat was still warm. There was probably someone who watched over him. Whoever it was, he or she seemed to have just left minutes ago. She sat down to rest and leaned back. Hinamori glanced back at him, drawn by the never-fading scowl that seemed to refuse leaving Ichigo's face. It was funny. His face, that is. Nothing like the face Renji described to her once, but then again, Renji's descriptions were...
'...Not exactly reliable.'
The door of the room slowly opened, and a woman stepped inside. She was short of stature, even shorter then Hinamori. Her black, shoulder-long hair framed her face. A single strand of her hair fell between her violet eyes.
"Kuchiki-san." Hinamori greeted her. Rukia stopped, and rubbed her eyes.
"Hinamori-fukutaicho?" She seemed like someone who just woke up. 'She probably fell asleep while watching over Ichigo.' Hinamori thought. Rukia's hair seemed wet around her face, most likely from washing with cold water in an attempt to clear her mind.
"What are you doing here?" Rukia asked her.
"Sorry, I woke up and went to see if I could find someone, but I got tired along the way..."
Rukia blinked, than quickly walked across the room.
"You're bleeding!"
Hinamori looked down and realized that the stab wound on her chest had reopened – the red stain on her white shitagishirt was proof enough.
"I don't understand... It doesn't hurt...?"
"You're probably still overflowing with pain meds." Rukia replied. "C'mon, we have to change the bandages. Take of the shitagi." In response, Himamori covered her chest, and shot a worried glance at Kurosaki. Her face was bright red.
"With respect Hinamori-fukutaicho, there's no need to be shy. We couldn't wake up that big oaf even if we fired from a cannon right next to him. Or..." Rukia allowed herself to smirk at the predicament of a superior officer. "...could it be that you're too shy because of me, perhaps?" Now that seemed to have hit the spot, as Hinamori's face instantly went through fifty different shades of red, finally settled on a dark shade of red, with nearly invisible traces of purple, showing that she was also angry.
"Kuchiki-san! To think that you could imply that... that there could be... That I... You...!" She was lost for words, but it seemed that the more she delved on it, the more her embarrassment took hold of her face, and the shades of red began shifting again. At one point, Rukia even wondered how long it would take for her to be able to see actual steam rising from the shy fukutaicho.
"Again, with respect Hinamori-fukutaicho, I seriously need to take a look at that wound and change your bandages – we wouldn't want you to bleed out, would we?" In reality, there was no way she could bleed out from such minute haemorrhaging, but then again, a little incentive could go a long way. Not to mention that bleeding wounds could quickly become infected. And again, Hinamori shot a worried look at Kuroskai's direction, before finally nodding and allowing Rukia to help her take of the shitagi. Beneath it, the bandages above the wound were soaked in red. Working quickly with her skilled hands, Rukia untangled the knot that held the bandage in place, and began unravelling it. Once she reached bare skin, Hinamori winced.
"Damn, seems some of the blood started to coagulate inside the bandages." Rukia moved her head closer, and tried tugging gently on the bandage to see if it would separate. "Wait here a second, I'll see what I can do." She stood up and walked out into the hallway. Hinamori sat there waiting for her to return, and while doing so, looked over to Ichigo's bed.
'Aizen did this to him...' She couldn't feel any reiatsu from him – if it weren't for her own eyes telling her that he was there, she would have sworn that the bed was empty. She closed her eyes and sighed. 'It's not fair.' None of it was. Everything that had happened over the past months, it just wasn't fair. 'Why do we have to lose everything, when all we ever wanted to be was to be happy...?' Looking at his face, so peaceful in sleep, she became ever more aware of her clothes... or rather yet, the current lack of the same. Her face steamed back into bright red. "Thisisstupid...this is so stupid, the kid's in a coma..." Without even realizing it, her hands were already covering up her...
Rukia walked back inside the room, carrying a medium plastic cup filled with warm water and a towel over her shoulder. In her other hand, she held a sponge. Her eyebrows rose in a silent question, as her lips threatened to curl up a smile, as she looked at Hinamori's red face. "Do I even want to know?"
Hinamori shook her head.
Slowly applying the sponge dipped in warm water around the wound, the bandage came loose. Rukia then began softly wiping the area around the wound, and then – even more carefully – the wound itself before wiping it all away with the towel. After she was done replacing the bandage, Rukia clapped her hands.
"Let's get you back to bed!"
Hinamori struggled to stand up.
"No, no, I'm fine..."
"Mhmm..."
"Really..."
"Need I bring a mirror?" She proceeded to press her finger on Hinamori's forehead. "From this point on, all your opinions are rejected." She said with a scowl most commonly associated with someone else. "Got that?"
Confused, Hinamori pulled her head back. "What kind of tyrannical way is that to help someone? !"
Rukia stuck out her tongue.
Giving up, Hinamori followed the girl outside of the room. Along the way back to her room, they made two pauses for Hinamori to catch her breath. Rukia helped her climb back onto her bed.
"I'll send someone to check you up later, okay? It's good to see you're back to your old self." She said with a smile, and turned to leave, but Hinamori caught her hand.
"Stay." She whispered. She needed a friend.
"Okay."
The two girls talked about the old days, the time they spent in the academy, Rukia's time in the world of the living, and, in the end of the war that was nearly lost. Sometimes they laughed, sometimes they cried, sometimes they just sat there in silence, grateful for simply being alive. Time flew past them, as minutes turned to hours. Rukia left only when Unohana herself came to inspect Hinamori's condition.
"I'll be in the room down the hall if you need me." She told Hinamori.
"See you around, Kuchiki-san." Momo said with a smile. She lied on her back with her head on the pillow, and stared at the white ceiling. The world came close to ending. But although Aizen managed to shake the very foundations of Soul Society, the shinigami endured nonetheless. In spite of everything, they were still there, still alive and still breathing. Aizen had failed. And sure, new challenges would arise, as they always had in the past. The great city of souls was at its weakest in over two millennia, but even on their knees, the shinigami would survive. She would survive. With her friends at her side, together, they would safeguard the two Earths.
Unbroken, a heart of courage.
O-O-O
END
A/N: just me doing justice to Hinamori Momo, the only character that could make me like her when I did not want to.
~KuroiTori-sama