Disclaimer: All Kubo Taito's idea. Not mine.
Author's Note: This will start off HitsuHina, but it will eventually be HitsuMatsu. Period.
Chrysanthemums & Peaches: Chapter 1
Hitsugaya signed the last of his paperwork for the day before sighing loudly and slumping into his chair. He had finished most of what he set out to accomplish. Matsumoto on the other hand, was still not back. She was supposed to have gone to get more stationery from the main supply office.
Four and a half hours ago…
"Matsumoto, stop doodling on the reports and finish the logs already."
"Oh, but taichou, it's 3:00 on a Friday and I've been working on these logs for days!" she complained, temporarily halting the production of whimsical flowers with faces in the margins.
"They were due on Wednesday," he reminded her irritably. "I thought I finished the 10-bantai zanpakutou inspection weeks ago."
"Yeah, but there are over 200 members in our bantai," she whined. "I had to look up all the official documents of the members of our bantai. It was such hard work—"
"Well, you were the one who stuffed the files in the boxes in the first place, saying that it 'saved time and space,'" he said flatly.
"I know but, taichou—" she pleaded, standing up to grovel.
"No," he said reaching to get a file in a box under his desk.
"Please!"
"No."
"Please! Please, pretty please! Please, I just wanna—oopsie…uh oh…"
"What now-OUCH!" Hitsugaya said popping up from under his desk, slamming his head on the open drawer.
"Taichou, I was uh, getting overly…uh, enthusiastic…and I sort of knocked over my inkwell with my uh…uh…" Matsumoto gestured to the ink splotch that somehow conveniently landed on her cleavage. "I think I need to go wash it off—"
"Matsumoto! You did that on purpose!"
"Taichou, it was an accident! I swear! I was in the process of convincing to you to let me off early and—"
"Matsumoto!"
"And, and—all of a sudden this inkwell came out of nowhere and attacked my chest and well—yeah, the ink spilled over the last ream of report paper…"
Hitsugaya's hand went straight to his forehead as he sighed. He was pretty sure she had done it on purpose, but he had no choice but to send her off to get more paper for the reports she was supposed to be writing.
"Matsumoto, go to the bathroom and clean that up," he commanded looking away, blushing faintly as he shooed her waving at the dripping ink splotch. "Then go and get some more report paper from the head office."
"Roger that!" she said saluting briefly before galloping happily—too happily—out the door.
That was over four hours ago. Matsumoto was still not back and he had one more report to write. Hitsugaya sighed resignedly, shuffled his papers and placed them neatly in a stack on the table next to his desk. He closed his inkwell and put his brush in the basket for 'brushes to be cleaned.'
He frowned when he noticed that Matsumoto had not taken the brushes to be washed for three days. But he was too tired to fight it. He stood up from his chair and grabbed his zanpakutou next to his desk, putting it on his back as he turned off the lamp, locked the door and shuffled out the door.
Hitsugaya loved walking home from his office at the meeting hall. Sure he had an office at his own 10-bantai headquarters, but he usually did most of the administrative work for his actual bantai there. He usually used this spacious office they had given him in the same building as the meeting hall to do research or investigate anything that was unrelated to 10-bantai.
Matsumoto had her own office, but it was on the fourth floor, three floors above his. She said it was too much trouble to go all the way up, so mobilized several of the lower members of 10-bantai to move her desk into a corner of his office, which was on the first floor with the offices of all the other taichou.
She often also complained that this office was so far from the headquarters and that it was a pain to have to wake up extra early so she could be there on time. Hitsugaya, an early riser, did not mind the 'commute' since when he used his shunpo, he could be there in about a minute. But usually, he just left his headquarters early and walked.
He found that walking allowed him to relax himself before work and helped him unwind after work. Tonight despite it being late and the sound of drunken shinigami echoing through the streets of the Seireitei, the skies were clear and there was a breeze that gently tousled his spiked hair. Hitsugaya was passing through the park that he always passed through, approaching the bench that he always stopped to rest at, not because he needed it like some old retired shinigami with too much time on his hands, but because he liked to sit and enjoy the view of the sky that particular bench provided. The bench was at the edge of the park in a secluded spot, which is why Hitsugaya frequented this particular bench.
Sometimes when he felt like he was going to burst a vein from the stress of being a taichou or from the incompetence of some of his subordinates (Matsumoto included), he came to this spot, which was exactly halfway between his headquarters and the meeting hall office, to cool off and rethink situations and possible solutions to them.
Matsumoto sometimes pestered him about his sudden absences, since he usually just got up and left, sometimes mid-sentence. But she knew better than to follow him when he was in a bad mood. So even she did not know about this spot; he never told her—not her or anyone.
He arrived at his bench, took off his zanpakutou, and sat down. The moonlight played softly off his recently sharpening features. He had not noticed himself until he overheard two of the female members of his bantai talking about him. They thought he had gone to a meeting, but he forgot a report and ended up overhearing the conversation when he came back for it.
A few days ago…"Is it just me, or is Hitsugaya-taichou getting taller?"
"Taller? Hitsugaya-taichou? Now those are two words that you don't hear in the same sentence everyday."
"Really? I could have sworn I was taller than he was when he last did a uniform inspection. Maybe he was having a good hair day or something."
"Maybe not taller, but have you noticed his voice has gotten lower over the past few months? I don't know, ever since that Aizen incident, he seems different."
"Yeah, I know what you mean. I was looking at him from the side the other day and his face seems …I don't know, his features seem more defined…"
"Yeah! I thought so too. I mean he's not masculine like that Ikkaku something or another of 11-bantai, but not pretty like Ukitake-taichou…."
"Not scruffy like Kyouraku-taichou, but not handsome like Kaien-fukutaichou…"
"He looks less like a boy—"
"His face seems like it's maturing."
"He's pretty good looking now that I think about it."
" God I just hope he grows taller! Handsome or not, I just don't wanna be taller than him!"
Needless to say, he looked in the mirror when he got back to the safety of his own room. He was tempted to measure himself against the markings on the wall that charted his growth since he came to the Seireitei. But since he did not want to be disappointed in case he hadn't grown, he decided that the comment that he was having a good hair day would suffice and he would just leave it at that.
Hitsugaya gazed at the starry sky as he reflected on the day's activities. Today's topics for mediation included where the hell Matsumoto disappeared to, when her reports were going to be on his desk with his ream of report paper, the hollow missions for the senior members of his bantai, and that memo that Yamamoto-soutaichou sent out this afternoon.
The last one was particularly unnerving for the emerald-eyed taichou. That afternoon, Yamamoto-soutaichou sent out a memo saying something to the effect of 'Pending further investigation of the murder of Central 46 Chambers and the betrayal of 3 taichou, the responsibilities of taichou for 3-bantai, 5-bantai, and 9-bantai shall be assumed by their respective fukutaichou until further notice. New taichou of the aforementioned bantai shall be determined pending the results of the investigation.'
The incident itself occurred months ago. The fukutaichou had been assuming responsibility the second they were capable of handling the responsibilities. Those not directly involved in the investigation were trying their best to move past the incident, returning to normal activities pre-Ichigo invasion. Why an official declaration, granting them permission months after the fact was indeed a puzzling and most baffling concern for the perceptive 10-bantai taichou. Something did not sit right with Hitsugaya, but instead of dwelling on it, he decided that he had done enough work for the night.
Hitsugaya picked up his things and began heading for the east exit of the park. He was feeling calm, refreshed, and ready for a quiet evening at home with his green tea and the six reports he had checked out from the central library several days ago. He had been researching the events that led up to the chamber massacre and needed several pages from those reports. He was nearly home and just thinking about which one he should read first, when suddenly someone running at full speed crashed right into him, nearly knocking the wind right out of him.
Hitsugaya was just about to warn whoever ran into him about manners and courtesy for other pedestrians, when he looked up and saw the culprit. She was sobbing and looked as if she just recovered herself from the shock of the run in like him. Hitsugaya carefully approached her, trying to get a better look at her face.
"Hey, are you all right?" he asked leaning down towards her eye level.
"Shiro-chan?" she whispered, sniffling and looking up into his emerald green ones with her tear filled ones.
"Hinamori!" he gasped. "What the hell happened?"
"S-Sh-Shiro-cha------------n!" she sobbed, standing up and burying herself in his chest.