Fandom: Bleach
Pairing: Momo/Toshiro
Prompt: Table #9 – 01. Dancing
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Slow Waltz
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i.
"Momo," the pauper asks, his voice clear and cold like the winter ice he loved to play with, "dance with me." He offers a hand, his skin pale and transparent and she is reminded of water.
""Hitsugaya-kun," the dark-haired princess with kind eyes replies, "I can't. I already promised Aizen-sama this dance." She ignores the hand, instead giving an apologetic smile.
Her older, wiser Prince Charming is approaching the pair and the fragile flower quickly bids goodbye to the frozen, hard rock. She is going to meet the bright sun.
"Momo," he tries again, realizing he has a few moments before the clock struck midnight on Cinderella. "Later. Next dance." He is assertive, not taking no for an answer. If he let her have a choice, she'd slip out of his fingers like sand.
"I'm going home after this one," she gives an embarrassed giggle, "But—"
"The next ball, I get your first and last dance," he cuts in, ignoring her excuses and indignant squeaks. This is how he gets what he wants with her, by cornering and forcing her to agree. "I'll see you then."
Slim fingers hold her hand and he brushes her small knuckles against his lips as tradition decrees. Like a ghost in the night, he quickly disappears into the crowd and leaves the party.
"Waiting long?" her gentleman touches her shoulder and the lady shakes her head.
"No, Hitsuguya-kun kept me company."
The prince smiles and softly takes her hand. "Shall we?" He motions at the twirling dancers, the swirling colours of red and orange merge into one great fire.
Shyly, she nods and allows herself to be lead into the mad chaos, the rush of wind-borne dancers. Oddly, her hand feels strangely cold at his touch.
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ii.
Hinamori doesn't love Aizen. Not a love love, at least. It's something a kin to admiration, just more stronger and bigger than that. It's a desire to stay by his side for as long as possible, to watch him grow, to just be with him and watch his actions. He's an uncle of sorts, with his clever and comforting words; a hero that rescues her and she falls deeper and deeper into his trap as days go by.
But it isn't love. That is something she is sure of, as sure as the heart beating in her chest, as the slightly dirty, crystal air she breathes. She reflects this as she cleans up the garden in her front yard. After neglecting it for a few weeks, the flowers are wilting and in need of a good watering. There are weeds here and there and some of the roses are infested with bugs.
Pulling out a weed, its prickles dig into her fingers as she throws it into the waste pile. She pulls out another before pausing and looking at the change in her garden. Already her small pansies and snap-dragons can be seen properly.
The sound of footsteps enters her hearing and she turns her head to see a shock of artic white hair (snow, she thinks irrationally for a moment) pass her range of vision. The body connected to the hair is one she can picture without seeing, one that she's known for years. He doesn't seem to have noticed her and she intends to keep it that way. Peering at him through her plants, she notices a small twitch on his lips and the far away look in his eyes. Speeding up, he took long strides and disappeared around the corner.
"No," she thinks as she looks at the spot he left, "it isn't love."
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iii.
He is her hero and she is the fair maiden waiting to be rescued. She'll wait in her tall tower, looking down at her savior and watch him. Of course, she's content with the distance, just watching him is good enough, but in the end she'll get more like she deserves. After fighting a dreadful beast, he will save her and then the two will be happy together. One leading the path while the other follows, because she likes simple things.
Toshiro wonders where he fits into this tale. If in this story Aizen is the hero and Momo Hinamori the frightened victim, what part did he have in it? There are only so many parts in this play and already the one he wants is filled.
What are left are the sidekicks. They are never mentioned much and their own stories are left incomplete. Never to be happy or sad, never to find true love or die wretchedly. All that they can do is fit into the sidekick's role and come in when needed before getting put away for a later time.
He doesn't fancy himself as a sidekick, that role is not for him. It anything, it is Renji's part. Renji keeps chasing a girl who does not and does want to be saved. She hides it very well, showing a tough exterior but occasionally, it shows (her desire to be taken away is a small but strong flame). He loves a girl who does not know her own heart and has to fight rivals for that love. Unfortunately, she is claimed without realizing it and he is fighting a losing battle. His story will remain broken and incomplete.
No, Toshiro does not want to be the sidekick. To be the sidekick is to be ignored, unloved, broken. If anything, Toshiro thinks of himself as the anarchist—not there to help the hero but not fully there to hinder him either.
(He does so anyways. A biased sidekick then.)
He doesn't mind letting the hero do all of the fighting, doing all of the dangerous things that involve freeing the maiden from the tower.
All Toshiro wants to do is the rescuing.
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iv.
Momo raises her frayed, dove-white gloves to her face and silently sobs into them. She can still smell his scent, a mix of pine and a sweat because he had been horse-riding earlier. She can still feel his hands in hers (firm yet soft), remember the look in his eyes (is he always this distant?), and now wonders how it happened.
Aizen had betrayed her, breaking her illusions and shattered the looking mirror. Cinderella's spell came to an end and the princess found out that the monster had been beside her all along.
Besides running away to another country, Aizen had taken some of her fortune and nearly killed her doing so.
Aizen would never do that, her heart protests, cracking, but her mind confirms that, yes, he would and did do that. He tricked her fully, a part of her having disappeared along with him as though he had stolen it, and now she wonders what is left.
She barely wants to go out and eat any more, sleep at night, even wake up in the morning. Shock isn't a good thing for her, the doctor once said, and she needs to be pulled out of it before she is consumed by it.
Too bad no one is pulling.
Days slowly pass by and she hardly notices it. Then, one day, something happens. Looking in the mail that fell through the door, she notices one of them mentioned the Autumn Ball. It is the latest ball being held.
Balls were where she had met him and immediately her hands reach out to tear the invite. She wants to destroy the sheet of paper, rip it apart as though she is ripping him apart. Pausing momentarily, a conversation flits through her memory.
"The next dance, then."
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"Fine. Then I'm your first and last dance at the next ball/"
Her hand strays and puts the invitation away safely. Just in case, she argues to herself, she wants to go. Which she really doesn't, but it does get boring and lonely in the house sometimes. And she really should move on before her mother decides to give her a visit, which would be a horrible thing.
A hand is reaching for her now.
(It has been reaching all along and she only sees it now.)
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v.
A silent boy and a broken girl meet in a colourfully decorated ballroom. The boy is in a black tuxedo while the girl wears a pale, yellow-white dress. They stand facing each other, their expressions neutral. The crowd of people swallows them, making them surrounded and alone at the same time.
"So, you came," he comments, bowing to her. His crystal eyes watch her face, scrutinizing any flicker of emotion she shows. He's waiting for something.
Momo curtsies back, "I…I thought," her voice trails off, weak, and she looks around uncomfortably. She doesn't know what to say. I thought there is something here to help me? I thought I'd find what I need here? I thought…
I thought you'd save me?
"Do you want to dance," he finally asks after staring at her with a dark, deep look. His face softens slightly as he finds what he is looking for. A glimpse of her heart.
Shakily and slowly, Momo nods her head, unable to refuse but not trusting her voice either.
As Toshiro reaches to touch her, she involuntarily flinches and he pauses for a moment. She needs a little time, but he knows better than to wait it out. Giving her another long stare, he tries again. His hands gently lock onto her wrist, ignoring her small flinches as she remembers Aizen's hands there, and then pulls her towards him.
The waltz is starting. They sway to the music, the flow and ebb of it moving their feet. He isn't too demanding or teasing like he used to be, Momo notices. She would have liked to have had more time and space before actually dancing but one again Toshiro knew what was best. Soon, she finds her face in his chest. There is a warmth enfolding her and she feels calm and secure, a child in her mother's grasp.
This isn't love either.
Momo looks up into his eyes—when did he grow so tall? So masculine and mature? So handsome?—and shyly looks back down.
(There is a faint flutter in her stomach and she feels lighter than air. Gravity can't hold her down.)
It is too much to hope, her brain believes. This time, the heart takes over, replying what she truly feels.
This isn't love but it could be. And it will be.
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A/N: Well, this is my first attempt at a bleach story...I wonder if I kept them in character? I hope I did. This story is a bit disjointed as each section goes in alternating point's of view. Momo's is ordinary, while Toshiro's is the one of hero's and princesses…
(Funny, considering his character…)
Anyways, this will be a collection of ten stories, ten different stories to help me at least write this couple properly.
If there are any problems with the characterization, please tell me. I'd like to improve.
(I feel horrible on how this ended. I think I mixed Zero, Sasuke, and Lulu into one.)
Questions? Comments? Suggestions?
Review!