Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Kubo Tite.
Author natterings: I may or may not write a sequel to this. It depends on how motivated I am, and how much you readers want one. If you want a continuation, please say so! If not, then you are still welcome to review, of course. And yupadoodle, I still take requests. Please enjoy...
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44. A FINE MESS
Three loud raps sounded off of the tenth division's office door. "Rangiku-san? Rangikuuuu," called Yamada Reiko, eighth seat of the fourth.
"I think they're training this morning," Hisagi said helpfully, balancing a heaping lunch in his arms and opening his own office door very slowly.
Yamada flushed scarlet and overreacted, "I knew that!" and just about tripped over her own feet running away.
Hisagi raised an eyebrow, then continued to reach for the door. He then watched as his orange wobbled and inevitably fell to the ground. "Bugger," he sighed, and prepared to start a long battle with gravity, as the rest of his lunch would fall as soon as he bent over.
"Yours?"
Hisagi looked up.
Well, not that far up.
For, holding out his orange was Hitsugaya-taichou.
"Yes, thank you, Hitsugaya-taichou." He reached for his orange.
Hitsugaya instead moved smoothly to open the ninth division's office door. "Try not to work yourself too hard, Hisagi-fukutaichou."
Hisagi grinned sheepishly, caught in the act. "Thank you for your concern, sir."
Hitsugaya placed the orange on top of Hisagi's precarious lunch pile.
"Oy, Shuuei," Matsumoto said, peaking around the tenth's doorframe. "Working over your lunch break again?"
Rather than admit to the obvious, Hisagi commented, "You got back awfully quickly after Yamada left."
Hitsugaya frowned and murmured, "That woman is a gossip."
"They don't get along," Matsumoto whispered to Hisagi conspiratorially.
"Matsumoto!" Hitsugaya bellowed, already heading into the tenth's office, "Don't you start on me!"
"That's my cue to leave," Matsumoto continued on in a whisper. "See you, Shuuei!" And she darted quickly into the tenth's office.
Hitsugaya looked up at her from the cup of tea he was pouring. "Matsumoto?"
"Yes, please," she replied hurriedly, rummaging through her desk, not looking up.
He moved onto the next cup as she produced two lunchboxes from her desk. "Ta-da!" She beamed, grinning infectiously.
Despite his expectations, Hitsugaya smiled back at his lieutenant. "And these are your new and improved mochi?"
Matsumoto dragged her chair over to share Hitsugaya's desk. "Yup! Oh, I'm so excited for you to try them, taichou!"
"Because I'm the only one brave enough?"
Matsumoto grabbed her teacup. "Oh, listen to this - comedian Hitsugaya-taichou just thinks he's so funny. Har har."
Hitsugaya rolled his eyes. "As excited as you are, I'm sure we can't make a lunch out of only mochi. Did you want to get anything from the cafeteria?"
"Ramen."
Hitsugaya refrained from scrunching his nose.
Still, Matsumoto caught his disdain. "Hey, you offered."
"I offered to let you come with me," he replied, not pleased with the idea of carrying the salty, oily mess of noodles back in one hand and his own lunch in the other.
"I have to arrange my mochi. Presentation is half the work of cooking, you know."
"I guess the other half is rehydrating the precooked meal?"
Matsumoto stuck her tongue out like a six year old. "You slay me, really."
Hitsugaya just smirked and pulled the door open.
Whereupon his forehead met the rapping of a set of knuckles.
"Yamada."
She seemed to wake from a daze, not realizing that her knuckles were knocking Hitsugaya, and not the door. "Oh! G-goodness. My apologies," she stuttered, turning pink. Yamada was an easy blusher, he thought.
"No harm done," he replied, the teensiest bit irked.
"He's got a tough skull," Matsumoto piped up from her position on the couch.
"Shouldn't you be arranging mochi, woman?"
Matsumoto promptly jumped up, exaggerating her movements and arranging the confections along the edges of their plates.
Hitsugaya resumed his quest to the cafeteria. Yamada entered the office with ease. He expected as much. Yamada and Matsumoto gossiped like old women on daytime television.
"Hitsugaya-taichou!" His fourth seat ran up, bowing awkwardly in her run.
"Hiwatari," Hitsugaya greeted, bowing in return. His division always bowed, he always bowed in return. They had somehow gotten the impression that he was a stickler for etiquette. He snorted internally - it wasn't too far off the mark.
"I was just wondering if you'd like to join me for lunch, taichou, to discuss the latest proposal I put forward?"
They had drifted toward the counter heaped with main courses. He heaved a bowl of Matsumoto's favourite into the crook of his left arm.
Hiwatari's smile fell. "Oh, you're having lunch with Matsumoto-fukutaichou today?"
Hitsugaya's left eyebrow rose.
Hiwatari, usually unflappable, squirmed the slightest bit. "We just know that you don't eat ramen, and that fukutaichou does."
Hitsugaya just took a plate of gyoza in hand and said, "Lunch won't be possible today. I have already looked at your proposal though. It seems very sound."
Hiwatari beamed. "Lunch tomorrow?"
"Alright," Hitsugaya agreed. He paid. He said bye. He left.
Halfway back to his office, he heard Yamada and Matsumoto in the middle of their gossip session. Damn, women were loud. Or maybe it was just those two.
"Oh, Yamada! I just have no idea what to wear. It's been so long," Matsumoto's distinctive trilling came from behind the door.
"Matsumoto-san, I'm sure anything you wear will look beautiful! Besides, if he judges you based on that, you toss him, and fast."
Hitsugaya bristled - who was judging Matsumoto?
"It's just been so long since I've been on a date! It's kind of funny. I'm never nervous."
What? Hitsugaya's concern quickly evaporated. Matsumoto was going on a date?
"You have no need to be, honey! You are just as gorgeous as he is!"
"Yamada, you flatterer."
"Ha ha, what? I'm just saying you are a bona fide beauty! And he is... every kind of hot."
Hitsugaya felt a flush creep up the back of his neck.
Matsumoto was dating a... hottie? Why had she never told him this?
He realized that he had been standing outside his own door for far longer than was proper. He knocked with his elbow, to give them time to compose themselves.
"Coming!" called Matsumoto happily.
"That's my cue," whispered Yamada. Silly Yamada, thinking he couldn't hear. "Well, I'll be off now! You have a good day, Hitsugaya-taichou! Tell me about it later, Matsumoto!"
"Goodbye, Yamada," Hitsugaya said, struggling to keep a neutral tone. He turned to his lieutenant. She was hovering innocently over her mochi, like she'd been doing so all along. She'd arranged them into smilely faces.
"Your ramen," he murmured, setting it down at her elbow.
"Thanks, taichou," she chirped. "I made more tea while you were out."
"Thank you," he said. He speared a gyoza.
They ate. Matsumoto slurped and snarfed, letting the world know it was lunchtime, while Hitsugaya chewed soundlessly, thinking.
He finally decided that the best way was the easiest way.
After Matsumoto had finished (so her mouth would be free to do some talking), Hitsugaya dropped the question.
"So. Who are you dating?"
Matsumoto stiffened the tiniest bit. "Oh, taichou, so you know about that?"
"Yes. Who is it?"
Her eyes darted this way and that, like she was horribly guilty of committing a crime. "A new guy... he was admitted two days ago."
Two days ago? That wasn't very long to get acquainted at all. Though, that did explain his lack of knowledge about the inner workings of the Gotei 13. Namely, the fact that no one dated Matsumoto without Hitsugaya's clearing of it first.
Hitsugaya called up his perfect memory and scrolled back two days. He did remember seeing some new admittances... there was one in particular that seemed like the type to ask Matsumoto out. Blue hair, tanned skin, biceps larger than his neck. Hirano? Hiruka?
Matsumoto narrowed her eyes, suddenly on the offensive. "I know what you're thinking, taichou! You're thinking that you'll go educate Hirano now, aren't you? You're thinking that you'll scare the bejeezus out of him, like you did to the others?"
Hitsugaya's eyes lit. Hirano.
Matsumoto saw his reaction and facepalmed, realizing her mistake.
Hitsugaya reached for a mochi now, satisfied.
Matsumoto swiped the plate out from under his chopsticks. "Taichou! You have to promise not to do anything!"
"Why?" Hitsugaya scoffed.
Matsumoto held the mochi plate high in the air. They looked in danger of slipping and falling off. "It's been so long since I've been on a date! No one's dared to ask me out since you traumatized Feng 3 years ago!"
Hitsugaya shrugged. "He was less than worthy."
"You froze him for not knowing what my favourite flowers are!"
Hitsugaya raised his eyebrows and drawled, "He should've known. It's fairly obvious."
"You put him out on display!"
"There's no law against it."
"And until now, no one would date me!"
Hitsugaya merely looked up at his lieutenant. Her cheeks were pink from exertion and her hand was a deadly white from holding up the plate of mochi. Her arm was probably going numb.
"Your arm must be numb," he observed.
"Don't do anything, taichou," she said, unwavered. Her eyebrows were drawn down and her mouth had become a line.
Hitsugaya made a point of rolling his eyes. Stubborn woman. "I won't do anything to Hirano."
Her face was disbelieving at having won so easily. If she knew anything about Hitsugaya, it was that he was stubborn. "Really?"
Hitsugaya sipped his tea boredly. "Really. Now let me try one of your horrible mochi."
She relented, smiling, setting the plate down.
Hitsugaya ran a mochi through with a chopstick, contemplating its centre. "So. He's a hottie."
Matsumoto frowned. "Since when do you use that word?"
She hadn't denied it. Interesting. He nibbled on the mochi.
"I've heard things. I've seen things," he said instead.
"You've seen him? What do you think?" Matsumoto perked up.
Hitsugaya was in no way a guy-hotness barometer. His method of judging was to hate everyone Matsumoto dated on sight. He didn't say that though. What he said was, "Fine."
Matsumoto made her annoyed face. "Fine?"
Hitsugaya chanced biting into the mochi. It tasted pretty good, actually. He wondered if the world was ending - that was the only way any of Matsumoto's cooking could taste good. "Fine, for an obvious bonehead."
Her temper flared. She would not speak to him about this anymore. She fixed him with one hard look and left the office.
Hitsugaya watched her leave.
He speared another mochi and thought up a plan. Matsumoto had made him promise not to do anything. And though he had always believed that actions spoke louder than words...
He hadn't promised not to say anything.
-
At home, Matsumoto rubbed at her arm. It had gone numb earlier, when she was keeping her homemade mochi away from her ridiculous taichou.
Oh, crud. She'd left them at his office!
Oh, well. She had a date to prepare for.
First, she took a nap. Beauty sleep was, indeed, beautiful, plus Hitsugaya and her had gone through a particularly rough set of maneuvers that morning and she was tired. When she awoke, she showered, found a deep blue dress in the back of her closet that complimented her hair, stuck some hoops in her ears and product in her hair. She'd thought it'd take longer, but she supposed the practise of so many date nights before had honed her skills subconsciously.
Hitsugaya was the main reason for those date nights ceasing to exist, she thought. It would've been cute, how protective he was, excepting the fact that it was really annoying. He knew just as well as she did that she could handle herself.
That crazy captain of hers was really one of a kind.
Knock, knock.
6:05. He was quite early! Hadn't they agreed upon 6:30?
She hurried to answer the knocks, a bounce in her step. She tore the door open...
Then looked down a good two feet from where she had expected his face to be.
"Matsumoto." Hitsugaya clenched his jaw, unimpressed.
Matsumoto tried her best to mirror his expression. "Oh, taichou. Come to apologize?"
"No, I came to return your plate." He held out the pale green plate to illustrate.
A look of distress immediately surfaced on her face. "Where are all my mochi?"
"May I come in?" he asked instead, raising an eyebrow.
"You have to leave at 6:25. Hirano's coming at 6:30." When he nodded, she stepped aside.
He deposited his shoes by the entrance while she took her plate back. He cleared his throat, then said to her retreating back, "They were all eaten."
The clunk of the plate in the sink. "By you?"
"No, actually," he answered, "By a lot of people."
She emerged in the kitchen doorway. "Wow! That's wonderful! I didn't get any, but..."
Hitsugaya tilted his head at Matsumoto. She looked different. Her hair was... her skin was...
"Taichou, tea?"
He scrunched his forehead. Um. "Yes." He padded into her bright kitchen. The walls were yellow and her counters and tables were all white. A crystal was hung in the window over the sink, catching sunlight and reflecting it over her bare arms.
She handed a cup to him. The soft, pale skin of the underside of her wrist brushed his fingers.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome," she said. She sat, and he did too.
She sighed, the very picture of relaxation.
She'd thought she'd stay mad at her taichou for longer, but she didn't feel mad at all. She wasn't really mad to start with, she supposed. He'd only acted as expected of his silly protective self.
The kitchen was very quiet.
Hitsugaya figured it out. Matsumoto was wearing blue. "You look very nice, Matsumoto," he said, before he actually thought to say it.
She blinked, surprised but pleased. "Thank you, Hitsugaya-taichou."
He took a sip of his tea and shrugged. It was true. "When is Hirano picking you up?"
She looked at the clock on the wall above her. It was slightly eccentric - it was in the shape of a green sprout. "In five minutes."
"Oh." He was supposed to leave now, according to earlier rules. But he knew better. She seemed to have forgotten those rules anyway.
"More tea?" he asked, standing.
"Yes, please."
He poured tea for the both of them, spilling not a drop, and sat again. The cup was at his lips the instant he sat down.
Twenty minutes later, Hirano had still not shown up for Matsumoto and Matsumoto had not yet kicked out Hitsugaya.
"Maybe he changed his mind," Hitsugaya said, starting on his third cup of tea.
Matsumoto had not drank since 6:36, one minute outside of the "five minutes doesn't count as late" rule. She picked up the cup now. "He would've told me though. Did he leave a message at the office while I was away?" She put the cup down.
"No," Hitsugaya's answer rang with innocence.
She chewed on her bottom lip and cracked her knuckles.
Hitsugaya's head rested on his palm. He almost copied her, seeing the motions, but stopped. He didn't do useless things like that.
Seven minutes later, Hitsugaya needed to go to the washroom.
"Down the hall, first door--"
"I know, Matsumoto. I've been here before," he said, rising from the table.
"Right," she responded. She'd laid her head down on the table a few moments ago. The orangey-blonde fanned out across the tabletop, her thick curls reaching his side of the table. The melon smell of mousse hit his nose.
When he returned, she was sipping on her tea. "I guess he's not coming."
Hitsugaya put his hands in the pockets of his casual pants and didn't sit down.
She was oddly still for herself. "Oh, well," she said quietly.
Ay, yi, yi. Hitsugaya looked at his vice-captain, all dressed up for nothing. "Matsumoto," he said in his captain voice.
Her blue eyes flicked up to his face.
"No wallowing. I'll take you out."
She looked harder at his face, searching. No hint of this being a joke? She smiled, despite her situation. "Okay, taichou."
-
The next day at the office, Hisagi worked over his lunch again, and Hitsugaya picked up his fallen banana. Then Yamada came knocking. He answered. He sensed a routine in the making.
"Could you get me a ramen bowl, taichou?" asked Matsumoto. "Hi, Yamada."
"I have a meeting today, Matsumoto. Sorry."
"Hi, Matsumoto-san!" Yamada called.
"Okay. Late lunch?" she suggested.
Hitsugaya hovered by the door. "It's over lunch, sorry."
Matsumoto pouted a bit. "Fine. See you later, taichou."
He nodded a goodbye and shut the door behind him.
"So, how'd your date go?" Yamada practically burst out, plopping herself down on the couch next to Matsumoto. She was ready to analyze every action and word of Matsumoto's date into oblivion.
"He didn't show," Matsumoto said. She didn't seem fazed.
Yamada looked scandalized. "He what? To you?"
Matsumoto shrugged blithely. "I'll give him the benefit of the doubt. I've no reason not to."
Yamada could hardly believe her ears. "Sure you do! He didn't even contact you beforehand? He just let you wait for him? Weren't you upset?"
Matsumoto recognized a bit of feminist spirit in Yamada's outrage. "No, he didn't contact me. But I'll give him a chance to explain. Besides," she continued, smiling at the memory, "Hitsugaya-taichou took me out in Hirano's stead."
Now Yamada looked confused. "You went out on a date with Hitsugaya?"
Matsumoto was quick to correct her. "Not a date. We went out as friends. Not as captain and lieutenant, and not as boyfriend and girlfriend."
Yamada critically examined Matsumoto. Matsumoto had lay down on the couch, looking up relaxedly at the ceiling. She was much, much too calm. Did she not realize the significance of what was happening? Yamada voiced one of her swirling thoughts - "Does Hitsugaya know that?"
Matsumoto scoffed now - a mannerism she'd picked up from Hitsugaya. "What do you mean? Of course he knows that. He's the most proper man I've ever known."
Yamada made a disbelieving face. "Maybe he wants to date you and used Hirano's not showing up as his golden opportunity."
Matsumoto let all Yamada's theories flow past her, reviewing last night's bounty in her head - a concert ticket and the leftovers of her dessert. The music from last night was absolutely beautiful. Hitsugaya had told her it was music he'd listened to in his life on earth. She'd felt mildly jealous, but awed as well.
Yamada chattered on. "Has he given you any hints lately? A man's actions definitely speak louder than his words."
Matsumoto tossed her a bone. "He pulled out my chair for me at dinner."
Yamada's eyes lit with a frightening gleam. "That is definitely date-like behaviour!" She turned to Matsumoto pointedly, grabbing her forearm and squeezing. "He wants you!"
Matsumoto sucked in a cheek. "He's also a gentleman, no matter what."
"Tell me more!" Yamada all but squeaked. She'd always thought there was something there...
Matsumoto laid the back of her hand across her eyes, suddenly tired of Yamada's energy. "He took me out to cheer me up. We went to a restaurant. He pulled out my chair," - here, Yamada squealed with delight - "and we ate three courses. Then he paid, and we went to a concert."
The pressure on her arm increased. "He paid?"
"Yes."
"What kind of music?"
"Orchestra music, I don't know. He's listened to it for a long time. He loves it." Here, she softened, remembering how moving it was. "It was beautiful."
Yamada's sharp intake of breath caught her attention.
Despite herself, Matsumoto sat up. "What?"
Yamada looked at her, that odd predatory gleam gone. She whispered theatrically, "That boy is in love with you."
Matsumoto felt slightly annoyed. How could Yamada toss around a word like 'love'? "Hitsugaya-taichou is not in love with me."
"He paid for two three-course meals. He pulled out your chair. He shared a non-work related part of his past with you," Yamada ticked the points off on her fingers. "And I bet he scared off Hirano."
Now, Matsumoto let a small frown show through. "I made him promise not to."
"Love makes a man do crazy things." Yamada lifted her eyebrows for emphasis.
Matsumoto thought up a reply in her head. Hitsugaya-taichou in love with her? There was absolutely no way. He was a gentleman, that was all. Even his interests were gentlemanly - attending concerts with polite crowds and no subwoofers.
Just as she was about to voice this, the door slid open.
"--the office. Come in, Hiwatari," Hitsugaya was saying.
Yamada just winked at Matsumoto and stood up. "Looks like I've got to get back to the hospital, Matsumoto. See you later," she said, and to Matsumoto, it sounded like a warning.
Matsumoto watched Yamada leave and fourth seat Hiwatari enter. Hiwatari's shiny, dark hair was pulled back into a braid that swayed back and forth with her steps. "Hello, Matsumoto-fukutaichou," she greeted, bowing.
Matsumoto smiled back, trying not to let Yamada's theories unsettle her. "Good afternoon."
Hitsugaya pulled out a thick stack of paper. "Hiwatari, this is all the necessary documentation. Half is for me, the other half for you. You have to rephrase the proposal to address the council."
Matsumoto recognized that this was boring secretarial stuff and promptly stopped listening. She walked quietly over to Haineko and unsheathed her sword. Reflected in the gleam of Haineko's blade was Hiwatari, and Matsumoto began looking without really noticing.
Fourth seat Hiwatari was pale, but not unhealthy. She was pale in the way that cultured ladies of royal courts were. Her eyes were blue, striking against the black of her hair. Her nose was straight and her lips were full. She was quite pretty.
Matsumoto turned. Hitsugaya was still talking, stabbing parts of each form, navigating his way through each sheet.
Hiwatari was listening, nodding her head at each new thing her taichou said. But more often than not, she was looking at Hitsugaya. Her eyes were soft, gazing at that little bit of hair falling over Hitsugaya's forehead, at the furrow of his brow.
Matsumoto recognized that look immediately.
"So, that's all," Hitsugaya said, looking up from the papers. His voice woke Matsumoto from a seeming daze. "We'll submit this in ten days." He stuck out his hand to Hiwatari.
She took it, and they shook. "Thank you so much for your support, Hitsugaya-taichou."
Hitsugaya let her hand go first, Matsumoto saw. "It's no problem."
"Good day, Hitsugaya-taichou, Matsumoto-fukutaichou." She bowed and left the office.
Matsumoto had registered Hiwatari's goodbye too late and stood planted to the floor like a moron.
"Matsumoto?"
Matsumoto blinked. She hadn't blinked for a long time, and her eyes felt it. Ow. "Uh, yes, Hitsugaya-taichou?"
"What are you doing with Haineko?"
Matsumoto had forgot she was still holding her sword. She had forgot that she had fingers and toes and that the world was turning. "Making sure she was properly sharpened, taichou," her voice sounded impressively offhand. She sheathed Haineko.
"I saw Hirano," Hitsugaya said now, taking a seat behind his desk.
Matsumoto just nodded.
"He said to tell you sorry."
The thought came to her that she should act like she cared. "Did he say anything else?" she asked.
Now, Hitsugaya's usually direct gaze flickered down. "No."
She just nodded some more. This did not matter particularly much to her right now. Looking over the past half hour, Matsumoto came to a few conclusions.
One, Hiwatari liked Hitsugaya-taichou. Really liked.
Two, Hitsugaya was a gentleman with no inkling of this fact. An oblivious gentleman.
Three, when Matsumoto had seen the look in Hiwatari's eyes, she'd undoubtedly felt possessive of her taichou.
Hitsugaya may not be in love with her, but she was definitely starting to fall for him.
-
The soccer ball bounced off of his toes and he ran forward to meet it again. He kept it perfectly under his control, zigzagging up and down the field. He let the spinning black and white hypnotize him.
The truth was, that little bit of a lie he'd told Matsumoto earlier that afternoon was gnawing at him. Hirano hadn't said hi. Hirano never would say hi because Hitsugaya scared him enough to keep him away for at least 50 years. He had said to tell Matsumoto sorry though.
He just wanted to keep Matsumoto from approaching Hirano herself. One word, and she'd figure out his hand in it all. Matsumoto was perceptive that way. She was too good for all those boneheads.
Hitsugaya lined the ball up and took a shot. The ball barreled through the air and into the top left corner of the goal.
He sighed. He had to tell her, didn't he?
-
As much as Matsumoto lay around on the office couch, she didn't do much lying around in her own home. Today was no exception. Her many afternoon epiphanies gave her a lot of destructive energy. She would channel it into spring cleaning. She wore old training clothes and tied back her hair. It felt good to be full of purpose.
She dusted the tops of surfaces she didn't touch. She scrubbed her window blinds. She sat in her closet and pulled out things she no longer wore, trying not to get sentimental. Even so, she ended up keeping a lot.
Halfway through her shoes, a knock came at the door.
She got up, forgetting in her deep cleaning state to put down a shoe she had in her hand. It went with her to the door.
"Good evening, Matsumoto," said a slightly sweaty Hitsugaya.
"Good evening, taichou," Matsumoto answered, wiping the back of her hand across her forehead. Hitsugaya was treated to a view of the sole of her old shoe.
"May I come in?"
She nodded, too tired to do much else. She inhaled the night air he brought in with him. Night air always smelled like campfires to her. This air smelled of grass and soil.
Without thinking, she walked back to her large closet. Hitsugaya followed. He watched as she sat down among her piles and piles of shirts, skirts, belts and boots.
It was registering now: Hitsugaya, the guy she liked, was in her closet, seeing her personal things. She tried not to think of this. Instead, she picked up a skirt she'd been mulling over. "Should I keep this?" She held it up for him to see. She then realized it was very short, and as a result of this he would probably say no.
"No," was not what he said. "I like green," was what he said.
She eyed her green skirt. She eyed him. "What's on your mind?"
Hitsugaya touched the back of his neck. "Matsumoto, try not to get mad."
She put the skirt down. She was wary now.
"I said things to Hirano. I told him not to date you."
Immediately, the thought came to her to be mad. He meddled in her affairs more than he should. But she wasn't. She liked that he cared so much. She knew that she acted like she didn't need anything, so most people gave her nothing. Hitsugaya acted like he didn't see her act, and gave her everything. She thought of the ramen, she thought of the times he tried her cooking experiments, she thought of him defending her honour every time it was called into question. He gave again and again. Like being a gentleman, being a giver was who Hitsugaya was.
The beginnings of stress showed on his face. He thought she was mad.
"I'm not mad," she said.
All his muscles relaxed. "You're not?"
She shook her head no. "You're surprised," she observed.
He sat. "I am."
She just sorted through her piles for a moment. He looked past her rack of ceremonial robes, lost in thought. She particularly loved the way his eyes were always present, never unfocused, never glazed.
"Taichou, could I ask you something?"
He didn't think. "Yes."
Trying very hard not to chicken out from the path she was putting them on, she asked, "Do you know that Hiwatari likes you?" Here was where she would've bit her thumbnail, but she didn't.
As soon as she saw his reaction, she knew what he'd say. "I know," was what he said. He said more things - her heart stopped - "She asked to go out on a date."
She tried very, very hard not to swallow her courage. "What did you tell her?"
"I told her thank you," he recited, "but no."
Relief seeped through her. As good as it felt, it was short-lived. She had to keep going. "Was it because you don't like her? Or was it... something else?" Please, she prayed.
Hitsugaya suddenly peered at her with those attentive eyes of his. "Are you trying to turn me into a gossip?"
She exclaimed, hands up, "No! I'm really just interested." She was acting guilty, even so.
He looked at her with a shallow distrust. Though some part of him feared this would be circulating soon, he knew that Matsumoto was a caring person. He opened his mouth. "I don't like Hiwatari that way. Dating is the last thing on my mind."
At the last sentence, Matsumoto's face fell a smidgen. Her courage had met a roadblock.
But then, couldn't she still tell him? She owed it to herself to see what could happen. He liked her in his own way, and it could always change into something else. She could wait for him to be ready, couldn't she?
"Taichou?"
Maybe she hadn't meant to sound so fragile, but he'd responded in kind. His voice tender, he asked, "What is it?"
His sweetness pushed her forward. "I see now that you don't want to date. But I want you to know," - she made herself look at him - "I like you."
The green of his eyes intensified. He looked down, he looked back up. He said not a single thing.
She hovered, it seemed, over the safe, solid ground. She was very still.
"Rangiku," he said. He reached up. With the cold, soft pads of his fingers, he touched her temple and trailed a line down to her jaw.
She froze.
"I'll remember that," he promised.
She smiled. "Then I'll wait for you."