The LOVE that bleached FIRE and ICE

An arrangement made at birth finds Karin and Toshirou married to one another. But maybe this might possibly be a good thing…and maybe this might possibly be love. AU KKxTH slight MHxSA

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.

AU Warning: Characters can and will appear OOC.


Terminology:

Honjozo-shu: a type of sake, in which a slight amount of brewer's alcohol is added to the sake before pressing in order to extract extra flavors and aromas.

Kanji: the Chinese characters that are used in the modern Japanese logographic writing system; The Japanese term kanji literally means "Han characters."

Manju: Manju is a Japanese steamed cake, and it's a traditional Japanese sweet. A variety of fillings are used in manju. The most popular filling is anko (sweet azuki bean paste.)

Natto: A traditional Japanese food made from soybeans fermented with Bacillus subtilis. It is popular especially as a breakfast food; an acquired taste due to its powerful smell, strong flavor, and sticky consistency. According to Tite Kudo, it's Toshirou's favorite food.

Obi Sash: A sash for traditional Japanese dress and the most elaborate part of kimono outfits (usually, the more formal the occasion, more elaborate the kimono); varies in length for men and women; and the most elaborate.

Sakura (Tree): A tree native to Japan. Hanami events take place in Japan annually. Also a common name for girls in the country (i.e. Naruto's Sakura Haruno).

Shinokendo: The art of Japanese swordmanship.

Udon: Japanese cuisine; thick wheat-noodles served as a hot soup in a mildly-flavored broth.


My blocks of cold ice

are crashing down before me.

I melt now, slowly.

The MELTING Wall PREAMBLE

The faint pattering of rain outside his office windows both soothed and irritated Hitsugaya. His eyes skimmed through yet another line of the poorly-written manuscript, the one he started so many nights ago, the tip of his brush scratching through the kanji on the page. The stack of papers was getting smaller, but at a slower rate than what he was used to.

Time was completely alien to him. Usually, the sun peaking through the windows would tell him the part of the day. But the sky that morning had opened over the thirteenth district in a sickly swirl of gray and yellow with gluttonous and dark rainclouds hanging overhead. They were the remnants of an overnight storm, one the eighteen-year-old had thought would dissipate by noon. However, the heavy rain drops that had greeted him on his way outside the bathhouse and accompanied him during his solitary breakfast proved him to be wrong.

Oh well, he thought now, adjusting the sleeves to his koi-fish kimono, it can't be helped. The rain splashed behind him, most likely gathering in large puddles along the house's walls.

At the rate he was going, his task was going to take all day and most of the night. Part of him wanted to send for Matsumoto, but knowing his assistant for as long as he had, she was probably somewhere else in the house, hiding from him. He didn't question the possibility of her being completely drunk on her special, oft-partaken "Rainy Day Honjozo-shu." That would explain why he hadn't seen one strand of hair on her blonde head for the entire day.

The sounds of water outside became louder; his brow furrowed. I thought it would be done by now, he groused suddenly. His concentration for the moment was gone.

His hand stopped in his critiquing for a moment; a new set of thoughts were coursing through his mind.

If the green-eyed boy was going to be completely honest with himself—and only himself—the only reason why the normally calming rain was bothering him was because it meant the game with Karin would be canceled later on that night.

Since that first night, when she had apologized and won their first match, Toshirou and Karin had developed a routine of playing a match of soccer against each other. Every night, an hour after dinner, she usually walked in his office, ball in hand and dressed in a short yukata.

It was at first a "friendly rematch" (in which Toshirou won), and then another match with "no funny gimmicks this time" (in which Karin scored all game points). Now, the matches now went up to five points a game to accommodate Toshirou's skills as a novice and Karin's need for competition. They usually played to the point the sweat dripped over their eyelashes and every deep breath taken stung inside their lungs.

Karin was 4-3, but not for lack of trying. This was supposed to be the night he evened the score.

He blinked. Even if it stopped raining, the grass would still be wet. He thought that, but didn't go back to work. If he still had to be honest…

The other reason he enjoyed his evenings was because it seemed to be the only way he could actually see his…soccer opponent. The hostility was gone between them and the awkwardness was gone, too…but whatever was supposed to be there in its place hadn't appeared yet. She still took her meals upstairs with his cousin and assistant; the only times he saw her during the day was walking down a hallway. And their brief, unexpected moments of interaction throughout the day completely depended on who saw who first: if it was her, there was a wave and a few pleasantries; if it was him, they'd bow good morning to one another.

If Toshirou had to name or label them, they were…"friends." And for now, he supposed, that was fine.

A knock on the door came to a crescendo with the fast-falling rain outside.

"Come in."

He looked up to see the object of his thoughts standing in his door, balancing a tray of dishes with on her hip. She walked in carefully with tabi on her feet; the rain had put a cool breeze through the house, one that only Toshirou was immune to.

He paused in his thoughts and work; she was hours early and without her ball.

"Hi, Toshirou," she said, as if nothing she was doing was strange at all.

His face was like a block of ice, not betraying anything he was thinking. "What time is it?"

She firmly set the tray down on the table, careful not to rattle the cups. "A little after two. The cook made some tea and manju buns." She kneeled at the table, placing her hand over a steaming cup. Her kimono today was patterned with bright orange sakuras on branches, and her ebony, long hair was loose. Her fingers wrapped themselves around the cup, and she shivered, the heat making her shake off the coolness that touched her skin.

He found himself relaxing in her presence. "How are you?"

Her lips hovered over her cup's rim and she looked outside at the light gray seeping into the room. "It's raining," was her somber reply. She drew back suddenly as the hot liquid burned her lip.

He nodded at his paper with understanding. As a reward for winning their soccer game, the loser had to tell the winner one thing about themselves. So far, it was the only way he was learning anything about the fiery, enthusiastic girl: she had been playing soccer since she was four; her favorite season was summer; everyone in her family hated the rain. "How's the editing going?"

"Going. If that airhead Matsumoto, was here, I'd probably be done by now." His face took on a particularly sour look; his brush scratched a few more mistakes.

Karin grinned briefly, the corners of her mouth falling slowly in thought. A soft tapping filled the room; her fingers tapping against her porcelain cup. It sounded like the rain outside was searching for her rhythm to follow.

Apart from that, the scratching of bristles across paper, and the torrential world beyond the office walls, everything was in silence for a few minutes.

"Hey, Toshirou," Karin suddenly said. Her calling him by his first name with such familiarity was something she had adopted after the first game without a second thought. He followed suite, calling her by her first name with no suffixes or titles. Neither of them ventured to call each other by their shared last name. "Why don't you let me help you edit?"

His eyes slid over to her, not quite believing that the sentence had come out of her mouth. She was munching a manju bun, but looked straight at him, completely serious.

"What?"

She swallowed her food. "Teach me. I taught you how to play soccer; you can teach me how to edit manuscripts."

He looked down at the paper and pretended to work, trying to gauge her sincerity in the offer. "It's not like soccer; I can't really teach you any techniques. Are you good at grammar?"

She shrugged and pushed her cup away. "Sure. My teacher used to say I wrote essays pretty well."

He stood up with his stack of papers and inks and brushes. He walked over to the table and sat down beside her. Grabbing his cup of tea as she prepared herself, the eighteen-year-old watched her put ink on her brush and bunch her sleeves so as not to ruin them. They both leaned over another sheet of paper, one that didn't have any mistakes written on them yet.

His brush handle tapped various points of the sheet. "Point out any mistakes in spelling and grammar you can see. Also, if you notice any part that seems unclear, write it out in the margins. The more comments you make, the more the author can see what needs to be improved."

She nodded and began looking at the paper with focused eyes. Hitsugaya took one more look at her before getting back to his own task.

And there in the office, they got to work, the rain still beating against the windows with no signs of letting up.


It wasn't him like she had been hoping…Sosuke Aizen.

It wasn't even that other man with the fox face.

It was another man, a man Momo had never met before, holding a large black umbrella under the pouring rain with a panic-stricken look on his pale face.

He looked at her, obscured in the darkness of his umbrella. "Are, are you Momo Hinamori-sama?"

She stepped out of the comfort of the house into the whipping, damp coolness outside. The rain fell down in heavy sheets everywhere, a marked difference from five minutes ago when it was a light, misty drizzle. Drops of it fell from the sloping roof and over the front porch, creating a barrier between them. She made sure not to go beyond the first step; she didn't want to make it so easy for him to catch her if he was really out to harm her.

"Yes, I am." She peered ever-so-slightly underneath his cover. "Who are you?"

"Uh, my name is uh, Izuru Kira." He stared at her with his right, beady blue eye; his left was hidden under a mass of cornflower-yellow hair. "I am an…associate of Gin Ichimaru." He noted the blank look on her face. "He came to Ugendo a week ago with Sosuke Aizen-taicho…"

"Aizen!" The smile that crossed her face crinkled her eyes in excitement. Since that day, when she first met the strange, beautiful man in blue, she hadn't been able to get his face or the feel of his gentle hands out of her mind. She would daydream about him, about meeting him, the things she would try to say, the way he would smile, a well of communication open between them.

Just knowing that this man, in his somber-colored hakama, also knew Aizen made butterflies erupt in the pit of her stomach.

She was happy that she had volunteered take the door for Karin; if the other black-haired girl had met Kira and learned that this man was here for her, she doubted if this meeting would have happened. "You've met Aizen?"

"Yes. I came to Ugendo to deliver this message from him…to you." Under the falling beads of rain sliding through the grooves of his umbrella, his pale, long-fingered hand shot out from his shelter to hers. She pushed back the sleeves of her kimono, rust-colored with peaches, and accepted the gift in his shaky grasp.

His face looked immensely worried and even saddened, but Momo just figured he was cautious about being caught by Shiro-chan. Her eyes briefly looked behind her to do him a favor.

The coast was clear; even Karin, who Momo thought would have come to the door to check on her after giving her cousin his snack, wasn't around.

She looked down at her hand. In her fingers, slightly damp with rain, was a folded piece of paper. Momo looked at it and its black ink writing, grinning slightly. It's from him. She turned it over before pulling her hand away; her fingertips were smudged in black and her prints were in the corners. "Oh no!" The ink was beginning to run and the words were beginning to blur.

"I have to go!" She said to the blonde man, turning away and opening her door again.

"Ah, wait!" His hand clasped her fingers. She looked at him with panic, pausing in her run to stare down at his embrace. Like she was made of thorns, he dropped her hand. His eyes looked away nervously. "He asks that you send a reply to him in two days."

Her pretty face tinged pink at the request. He wants to talk to me? "There is a gate behind the house. If you wait until midnight for me, I'll come with my letter. Thank you." She bowed, opened the door and stepped halfway inside before turning back to him. "Ja ne, Kira-sama."

He looked up her with that one, grieving eye. "Sayonara…Hinamori-sama."


"What else is left, Matsumoto?" Toshirou asked. It was well past nightfall, closer to midnight; the rain had finally let up, but as expected, the ground was still too saturated with rainfall for anyone to walk on, let alone roll a soccer ball across.

"The wood pulp for the mill will be delivered tomorrow." His assistant replied form her spot at the table. As the final raindrops settled across Ugendo's ground, she finally emerged from wherever she was hiding, knocking on his office door and adjusting her obi sash and lavender kimono.

"Marechiyo Omaeda-san told us from the last shipment that he expects payment upon arrival…but we paid him from the last time—"

"Fine. Kotsubaki and Kotestu know to have it ready for his arrival." He waited for Matsumoto to make the necessary marks in the ledger. "When is my visit to the mill with Gin Ichimaru scheduled?"

"September third. That's three days from now."

"Have it cancelled and send word to them. And tomorrow, send a message to Kyoraku-taicho. His manuscript's been edited. I wish to deliver it myself. Tell him I would like to join him for lunch to discuss it."

"Of course." A few more notes. "That's it, Hitsugaya-sama." The two of them straightened up their books and papers. Toshirou stood up from his desk and made it from around his desk; he was ready to sleep, but not before thinking some more.

"Are you disappointed?" She asked suddenly.

He turned back to his assistant, who was looking at him, cradling her head in hand.

"What?" He wasn't in the mood for riddles.

"Are you disappointed that you couldn't play soccer tonight?" She pointed outside to the yard.

No, he wasn't. Karin had spent the evening with him, editing her pages of the taicho's manuscript. The young girl had taken her task very seriously, easing into his preference for silence. From time to time, his eyes lifted up from his labor to find her writing on the papers. At times, her lips would part, silently reading a passage that gave her trouble. They took a small break as dinner arrived: udon for her; natto for him; watermelon cut in wedges. Small talk had taken over for that time, with him answering just about every question she asked him and accepting every statement she told him.

It had been a very good night, their missed soccer game withstanding.

"Why are you asking me that?" He asked now, his voice deathly grave.

"Oh, no good reason," She said airily, waving off his sour mood with a hand.

He gave her a suspicious, weary look. "Then don't ask me that." He was closer to the door now.

"It's just…you look calmer, Tai-cho."

He paused again and looked down and away.

"Are you going to sleep now, Toshirou?" Karin stopped stretching and looked over at him, her arms still in the air. The two of them had finished the manuscript hours ahead of what he had been expecting. The whole thing in its entirety stood in a neat pile on the table. Every page they had looked at was littered with several black marks.

The light of the lanterns in the office cast everything in a warm glow. Their sun-kissed skin glowed, their eyes looking glassy. Shadows danced around their faces, noses and cheekbones.

He placed his cup of warm tea down with a solid thunk. "No. Matsumoto will be up and in here soon; the month is almost up and we have things to discuss." He looked up at her for the next thing he was about to say. "I'm planning on us going to the mill soon…Do you want to go?"

When she smiled, it was with her eyes. "Sure! Since I first heard about it, I've wanted to go. It would be good for me to see it, since it's so important."

"I'll let you know when we will visit." He wanted her to stay awhile longer, but she had to return the dishes to the kitchens. And it was late; she probably wanted to sleep now. Both of them walked to the doors and Hitsugaya opened one of them for her.

She murmured her appreciative thanks and turned to go; in her haste, a cup fell on its side on the tray, a bit of the cold liquid dribbling out. Toshirou reached over to straighten it. As he reached over, his fingers brushed over her hand passing over her knuckles and fingers with a slight touch. Her skin felt smooth and warm.

He pulled back as if he had been burned. The cup meanwhile stayed on its side.

There was no way to explain that. Even if the cup had fallen, that didn't mean that his hand was free to pass over hers. It made what was otherwise a really great night awkward.

Karin gave him a strange look out the corner of her eye; her hair obscured him from seeing her entire face. "Good night, Toshirou," she mumbled and left the room, her socked feet padding across the floor.

"Good night, Karin." He couldn't help but to think he did something really, really wrong.

"You're usually really guarded in your face. And you've only liked Shinokendo as a sport, not soccer. But you play it with her every night." Matsumoto's voice was very sure in her opinion; there weren't a lot people apart from her that knew the white-haired boy's slight changes in expression and habit.

The boy walked over to the door. He was prepared to leave the blonde to her musings and get some sleep. "Your point, Matsumoto."

Her hands adjusted her kimono. "September third will make it a month since she arrived. You two are getting along and you're calmer now…I'm happy for you."

He opened the door. His actions never betrayed what he was thinking before; if he ignored her, he could make sure it stayed that way.

"Taicho, it's okay if you have a crush on your wife."

He almost turned around. He almost confirmed that it was true. Almost. Ever so slowly, he walked out his office, leaving the door opened for her.


It was dry now.

Since saying good bye to Izuru Kira-sama, Momo underwent the task of drying Aizen's letter. Clearing a part of her vanity, she had opened the paper and set it down. The brown-eyed girl was careful not to read anything—not before it was ready.

And now, in the dead of night, it was ready. She neared her lantern and held it up to her hungry eyes.

Dear Momo Hinamori,

I cannot write or read Japanese, so I have asked someone to do so for me. I hope you can understand the words; I was assured he was the best at writing and calligraphy.

How are you? I hope you are feeling better since the last time I saw you.


A/N: Chapter 4, "The MELTING Wall PREAMBLE!" I'm very excited about this—even though it is very short. But the best things have been said to come in small packages. So Kira was a last minute decision, but I think I like him here. I feel like he'll be good for the subplot. This chapter was really Toshirou/Momo orientated. I didn't plan it that way, but Toshirou is such a hard character to write about and make dynamic. I really wanted to have him change a little, not make it so sudden. So I like that. Matsumoto is really really perceptive. But R&R. Thank you very much and see you in 5.