Undertones
By: WhisperedSilvers
X
.
.
.
Oh, I knew your love before I kissed you
And now you have only made me miss you
Come get me, come love me, baby come love me
.
you make me feel out of my element
The thing was, Toushiro had no idea how to go about instigating a relationship. Much less one of the permanent kind. He had emotions, yes, but doing something about them lay in the problem. The only type of relationship he had – by his own thoughts that related to all that was well normal – was Momo.
And Momo had been in a coma for a sum amount of time.
So perhaps, that didn't count.
Granny, maybe. She's always there, she's always been there, sitting and waiting. Taking care of the children who had no family in the Junrinan district. Toushiro can't even remember if he had parents because it was always Granny and Momo. Then there was Rangiku, who came with an entire onslaught of problems and people. They were a loud, rambunctious bunch, but the spaces inside his life were filling up one by one.
"You're quiet Captain," Rangiku remarked suddenly, she peered up from her small mound of paperwork, "Is everything alright?"
"Just thinking, Matsumoto," he said, after a moment of thought.
"Anything important?" she asked lightly, she filed two packets of paper.
"Establishment," Hitsugaya answered after placing his files into the rejected pile.
"Of?"
"Status," he finished.
"Are we talking about the Captaincy exam?" Rangiku perked up at the sudden thought.
Hitsugaya paused, he had almost forgotten, but the look on Matsumoto's face had him questioning her stream of consciousness. He narrowed his eyes, "What do you know?"
"I know that Captain Zaraki is thinking of retiring," she smiled cheekily.
He did a double-take, teal orbs widening, "What?"
She grabbed his files, ran towards the door, not before giggling and winking storm-eyes, "You didn't hear it from me!"
.
.
.
Boy, you're so dope,
Your love is deadly.
Tell me life is beautiful,
.
.
.
"How long is this going to take?" Rukia asked for the nth time that morning, her legs swing back and forth on the bench on the far side of the Kuchiki compound. "You've been pressing that button that fountain thing rather hard."
"I wouldn't have to if you're WI-FI here wasn't straight out of the dark ages," Ichigo grumbled, his laptop balanced on his left knee and his back flat against the cherry tree all the while balancing Rukia's I-Pod on the bench.
"Dark ages?"
"Never mind," he mumbled, "You don't even have a computer."
"Hmph!"
"I have a lot of music to put on the I-Pod, it's been almost three years?" Ichigo sniffed, he typed in another song and dragged it to the RUKIA FOLDER. "A lot of music has been released since then."
"I want to hear everything," Rukia announced suddenly, the sun spilled over her shoulders and she hummed, "Even things that you think I won't like."
He turned his head to look at her, a frown marring his lips, "What's with this new lust for life?"
"Let me tell you," Rukia huffed, "Life has been strange since the Menos mutated. I felt like a wreck when my reiatsu didn't balance out my reiryoku. I need to normalcy and freedom," she rolled her eyes and tugged on her blouse, "Starting with these clothes! You have to thank Ishida for these. Nii-sama says when I'm off duty or in the compound I can wear human clothes, well that's what he calls it."
"Since when is a shinigami life normal?"
"As if a simple, ordinary, boring human could understand the perils that come with the life, or in this case existence of this Kuchiki Rukia and, so let it be known behemoth, that I—ooph!"
Ichigo cut off her monologue by tossing his hoody, literally, in her face. "You have got to stop reading those romance books of yours. No one talks like those girls in your Jane Austin book, Rukia.
"Pride and Prejudice is a classic, you dolt—"
He groaned, "I knew I shouldn't have let you taken that Brit. Lit course."
"This is coming from the man who has eight volumes, Shakespeare, in his bookshelf."
"The man was a genius!"
She snorted, "And I suppose Juliet was an imbecile, huh? Let me fake kill myself without telling my lover of my plan, even though the message that it was a ruse may never come to light. Yes, let me—"
"Oh, shut up!" Ichigo laughed and soon enough Rukia joined in.
"Aw, you guys are like a box of kittens," Rangiku's voice suddenly entered the fray, her hair flowing like rivers down her back and her breasts are suddenly pushed up against the smaller Shinigami's back.
"What?" Ichigo asks dumbly.
"You know the bantering, fighting," she laughs, "It's like watching a match between two siblings."
"Is that why you're father calls me his third daughter?" Rukia raises a brow in amusement.
A new voice appeared on her left, "He calls you his what?"
"Third daughter," Renji repeated appearing on next to Ichigo, "I always thought that meant he wanted her to be part of his family," he paused, before grinning madly, "You know, through marriage."
Rangiku squealed and Hitsugaya snapped his eyebrows together.
"Does Nii-sama know that you're all here?" Rukia asked suddenly, wanting to switch to another topic, one preferably more comfortable and less testosterone-filled.
"Well," Matsumoto laughed nervously, "Sort of? I sent a butterfly earlier, but, we hadn't exactly greeted him since coming here."
Hitsugaya rolled his eyes, took a seat next to Rukia, the edges of his Captain's haori brushing the sides of her knuckles, and he sighed, "He's in a meeting. We'll talk once he's not indisposed."
She nodded in understanding.
"Oi," Ichigo whistled, he unplugged the I-Pod, and tossed it to her, "It's finished!
Rukia beamed, "How many did you upload?"
"Download," he corrected, "A couple hundred, around the three-hundred probably. If you make a playlist of all your favorites, I can look for more people related to those songs."
"Songs?" Renji frowned.
And so, for the eighth time that month, Ichigo explained what an I-Pod is. Rangiku and Renji made sounds of interest at appropriate times, but Hitsugaya's fingers played with the wayward strands of Rukia's hair absent-mindedly. He wasn't paying attention, that much Rukia was sure of, but she couldn't find the will in her to move—to adjust her sitting arrangement, mostly, because his fingers felt lovely on the back of her neck.
"She sounds like a film," Rukia commented playing with the volume button, her right ear pod was tucked neatly in her ear, her left one hanging down her blouse and her fingers brushed the cord, "She's American right?"
"Most of them are from America, my mother has some American in her," he said and Rukia ruffled his hair roughly, messily, and sweetly.
Ichigo was honestly, such a softie.
Hitsugaya's jaw flexed, but only Rangiku caught the contract in muscle and she hid a maniacal cackle by coughing.
"Do you like these human clothing, Rukia?" Matsumoto asked, steel-gray orbs like graphite, "I think they're pretty cute and cheap!"
"I like human clothes," she agreed, "It's a little…stuffy wearing shinigami wear sometimes."
"You mean boring," Hitsugaya chimed in with a half-smile.
Rukia breathed a laugh, "A little."
Things were moving slow, that much Hitsugaya could say. He didn't know how to go about this—this thing. He frowned internally at the suggestion. She wasn't as comfortable as she was with Ichigo, that much was apparent, but at least she wasn't jumping away from him every turn.
He felt like he needed to do something.
"How was training with Captain Zaraki, Ichigo?" Rukia asked as she scrolled through her playlist.
Ichigo shuddered, "Honestly, I don't want to even think about it."
Renji snickered, "Abarai and Yumichika were vomiting their insides out in the barracks when I went to deliver a report. I can only imagine how today went."
Rangiku frowned, "That bad?"
"Ever since Rukia's uncle and that Menos—thing, plus the whole army thing started happening," the substitute started off, "Everyone's been amping up their training sessions. I mean even Kisuke and Yoruichi have been putting me and the rest of us through extra training. It's a little…"
"Annoying?" Rukia added in and then sighed, "I know. Even Nii-sama has been on edge lately."
"It is his—your uncle, I mean," Renji said uncomfortably, "The elders have been giving him a hard time."
"More than usual?"
He nodded.
"I mean it has mostly to do with y'know," Ichigo turned his head to look at Rukia, "It is your uncle."
Rukia rolled her eyes despite the guilt plaguing her shoulders, she retorted hotly, "Koga Kuchiki isn't even really my uncle."
"Adopted, right?" Rangiku mused.
"Yes," amethyst orbs colored over frost, "I was adopted, but Renji is well, technically part of the clan since he became Nii-sama's lieutenant."
"I didn't know you and Byakuya were so chummy," Ichigo smirked.
Renji flushed, "It's not like that."
"Chummy?" Hitsugaya rolled his tongue over the strange human word and looked at the small Kuchiki for guidance.
She shrugged, "I don't know either, humans are so peculiar."
"We're peculiar?" Ichigo snorted, "You're the one that sleeps in my closet!"
"It's comfortable!" Rukia replied hotly.
"Wait," Hitsugaya pinched the bridge of his nose, jaw clenching and unclenching, he asked through gritted teeth; frustration and shock coloring his tone, "You sleep in his room?"
"Technically," Rukia conceded, "But, I am in an enclosed space."
"What about your father?" Rangiku interjected with surprise.
"He doesn't exactly know," Ichigo replied slowly, his eyebrows furrowed, "But since Aizen, he," he sighed, "He knows a lot more than he lets on."
"He's okay with his teenaged son being a shinigami?" Renji drawled out sarcastically.
Ichigo grinned, "He has no choice, since he's one too."
"What?!"
.
.
.
Summertime is nice and hot,
And my life is sweet like vanilla is.
Gold and silver line my heart
But burned into my brain are these stolen images
.
.
.
"Are we really having a party when half the capital is in shambles?" Soi-fon asked with mild disgust at Kyoraku's karaoke's singing and fake stumble towards Nanao.
"It could be worse," Unohana smiled slightly, "Stress, adrenaline, and grief can bring all sorts of illnesses and disaster. Even if it's for a little bit, a distraction is better than deconstruction, do you not think so, Captain?"
Soi-fon said nothing.
Across the room, in the corner of Kyoko's pub, the lanterns glittered like seafoam and the chili pepper that Ichigo once had the misfortune of eating in Kyoto. The embellished paper cast shadows on the tables and fake grass. He sniffed the blue gyoza suspiciously before plopping it into his mouth, he mumbled a muffled moan and started piling his plate with the butterfly-pea colored dumpling.
"Are you even allowed to drink?" Rukia asked curiously, "I heard that you were underage."
Ichigo scowled, "Who told you that?"
"Renji," she answered simply.
"Well, yeah I guess," he frowned, "There are limits on certain things. Alcohol and drugs. Things like that," he snorted and then crossed his arms, "But what about you? I bet you're uptight Nii-sama doesn't allow you to drink!"
Rukia slapped the back of his head and huffed, "I'll have you know that I am years older than you and my Nii-sama drinks too!"
"Drinks tea probably, I bet his blood is ten percent jasmine."
"Take that back you—you baboon!"
"Name-calling isn't nice, Rukia," Renji materialized next to her, he held a tray of steamed bao and yakitori sticks.
"Why do you have Nii-sama's yakitori sticks?" Rukia pointedly ignored the comment and took a steamed bun in between two hands.
The redhead shot her an incredulous look, "Captain can't eat all of these skewers,"
She snorted, chomped on a bun and muttered under her breath, "Shows what you know."
Just as Ichigo was about to grab a cup of sake, the little Kuchiki snatched it from right under his nose, downed it without wincing, poured another cup and didn't even bat an eyelash at the carrot-head's gape, "Unfortunately, even in the Soul Society, we don't give drinks to minors."
"Slave driver," he grumbled underneath his breath and sulked in the corner of the booth.
"And don't you forget it," Rukia hummed and took a stick of yakitori.
Captain Hitsugaya didn't arrive at Kyoko's until two hours later, the rest of the Court Guard Squad trickled in little by little, and soon the pub was bustling with shinigami from all squads. Izuru stumbled in with Rangiku just a little after ten, her giggling contagious and Nanao held a hyper Yachiru.
Hitsugaya used Flash Steps to reach Rukia's booth. She sat in the corner of the establishment, the round table hid her knees. He tucked his head until his mouth was next to her ear and murmured, "Having fun?"
Rukia hid her shiver with a sigh and passed him the plate of lemongrass gyoza, "Everyone's here," she paused, "It's nice."
He took a pair of chopsticks and popped a dumpling into his mouth, "That's not what I asked,"
She rolled storm-purple orbs and huffed, "Yes."
"Good," Hitsugaya nodded with acceptance, "Are you drinking?"
"Just some shochu," she pointed to her blue china cup, she hesitated before asking, "Do you want?"
He nodded again.
Rukia grabbed the pitcher and poured him a cup, "I thought you said you don't drink."
Teal orbs glinted lazily and he replied simply, "Things change."
"Hm," Rukia made a sound of disinterest.
He was acting, strange, Rukia mused. He wasn't being all, she paused trying to think of the word—intense and overbearing. Her lips twitched at her joke. He was present, that's all she could really conclude. Intense without being uncomfortable and warm. It was always strange, that the two ice-users – that she knew of – in all of the Seireitei could be so warm with being cold.
"You're wearing…human clothes," she said lamely. She took in his black jeans, ripped at the knees, a sleeveless black tank underneath his captain haori and black boots—the ones that she found Ichigo's closet when she swore she wasn't snooping.
Hitsugaya quirked a brow at her comment and took a sip of shochu, "Do you think you're the only one who wears human clothes?"
She blinked, "Well, no," and attempted to rake her brain for a comment, "I just…well I don't see a lot of people wearing them."
Teal orbs blatantly took in her black blouse and faded blue jean cutoffs, "Not everyone gets to travel to the Land of Living. I don't see why we can't bring back things from that world," he paused to take another gyoza, "Matsumoto says humans call them a shopping spree. I don't see the appeal in doing it every week, however. Do humans not realize that money, wealth is equivalent of status and life? What would they do if they do not have monetary compensation?"
"Not buy anything, I assume," Rukia's lips curled at the edges, "Can't buy anything with nothing."
"Clearly," Hitsugaya rolled his eyes, "Humans…are very strange creatures."
"Bound by both irrationality and rationality," she mused, "I would think so. Ichigo tells me, well actually," she wrinkled her nose in thought, "When I attended his high school, you remember the school? I took some classes, most of literature and history classes taught by mistake and repetition rather than forward-thinking—humans I think, just want to have a purpose."
"Forward-thinking?" he asked intrigued, he crossed his leg and brushed his shoulder against the bare skin of her clavicle. He noted the hitch in her breath and leaned in closer, almost as if to say that the background noise is too much and he needed to be closer to hear her, "What do you mean by that?"
Hitsugaya smelt like snow, pine and something musky. He smelt like sunlight spilling over a fresh coat of snow, deep in the forest where lakes ice over and the evergreens grow. Her fingers tightened over her cup and she spoke, "Rather than ask what next? They ask why? How? They look at the reality rather than the possibilities," she paused, "It almost sounds…"
"Sad," Hitsugaya finished her, "Human lifespans are short because of that."
"Makes you feel bad for them, hm?" she grabbed another piece of gyoza and munched on the festive dumpling before motioning the waiter to bring another round of shochu.
"Pity is a human feeling," he answered amusedly.
"Empathy," Rukia corrected, "And well," she looked pointedly at their outfits, "When in Rome…"
"A human proverb?"
"Yes," she looked surprised.
"I do read,"
"I've never seen you read," Rukia said pointedly.
When another plate of gyoza and bao appeared on the table, along with a pitcher of shochu, Rukia made her dipping sauce with the condiments and offered some to Hitsugaya.
"I don't have much spare time," he shrugged, "But when I do, I read all types of things," he dipped a dumpling into the bowl and his eyes widened, "This is good."
"Like what?" Rukia inquired, "It's just soy sauce, sesame oil, green onions, fried garlic and some human condiment called ketchup."
"You can cook?" he sipped his drink, "I like contemporary books. There's one book by Haruka—"
"—Kuran!" Amethyst orbs sparkled, "I started reading Empire, it's really good! I do, I used to live in Inuzuri so I had no choice, but I make sure to purposefully mess with Ichigo's food so he thinks otherwise," she laughed to herself, "I thought he was going to vomit when he tried my miso soup."
"I just started Empire," Hitsugaya's eyes widened, "Don't tell me anything, I need to finish it and then we can compare notes, but—" something loose and tangled lodged into the center of his throat when he realized what she just said, "You—you lived in the Inuzuri district?"
Rukia stilled and silently cursed a loose tongue; at this precise moment, alcohol seemed to be the bane of her existence. She scratched the back of her head and sighed, "Yeah. It was a long time ago. You knew I was adopted, Nii-sama made it abundantly clear once I joined the ranks. It's why the elders don't like me or the clan councilmen," she frowned, "It's why they call me a street rat," she smiled bitterly, "I've gotten used to their scorn, but I can't forget where I've come from."
Hitsugaya silently fumed at the Kuchiki clan. The abuse to her self-worth seemed undamaged at first, but he could see the damage it's done. Her smile had been the perfect mask, Byakuya must've drilled into her, the etiquette and spine that she displayed today. Gritting his teeth, he downed another glass of shochu and contemplated on her persona.
Suddenly, everything made sense.
Her mask, her layers wrapped in layers, the dizzying switch between her emotions and willpower, the steel of her spine and the beauty in her eyes. Her confidence in her abilities is higher than most, but that comes from her brother, her mannerisms and etiquette was a shield to outsiders, and her intelligence came from the crude necessity for survival, not living.
Throwing her in hot water, placing her on uneven ground and just not allowing her to think—it pushed her to react rather than act.
Matsumoto was right, he concluded with a hint of pride.
"That's why your hand-to-hand combat was spectacular," Hitsugaya realized, taking her small hand into his, he ran his digits up her index finger and thumb, skimming the back of her knuckles almost in awe at her tiny hand. "Your form is beautiful."
Rukia's tried to fight her smile, but the pinkness in her cheeks exposed her pleasure, "Thank you."
Hitsugaya poured her another cup, "Tell me about life in Inuzuri."
Rukia and Captain Hitsugaya talked for hours. Even when dawn started to peek through the windows, one by one, the Court Guard Squad started to leave. Eating gyoza, dumplings and the occasional yakitori, they drank and talked.
"I'm surprised Nii-sama isn't here to drag me home, yet," Rukia remarked, she gave up her shochu after the eighth bottle and slowly sipped her water.
If Hitsugaya was surprised by the time, he didn't show it. Instead, his fingers brushed the down her jaw, a thoughtful expression plastered on his face. He told her honestly, earnestly, "I could sit down and talk to you for hours, Rukia."
Rukia stared at him with wide violet eyes, lashes darker than midnight fluttered as the jut of his palm passed her cheekbone, and her mouth softened speechless.
"I think it's time I get you home," If anything Hitsugaya seemed pleased at her breathlessness, teal orbs lit up with candlelight.
.
.
.
Tell me life is beautiful,
They all think I have it all.
I've nothing without you.
.
.
.
"You know," Hitsugaya started off, tucking her elbow in the pocket of his side and arm, "You may be able to speak with stunning clarity and lucidity," he pulled her closer when she tripped over a small pebble and drawled, "But you're downright clumsy."
"I've had eight bottles of shochu," Rukia argued, giggling when she tripped on another crack, "How come you're not drunk?"
"I only had four cups," he chuckled, "I sipped. Something you do when you drink."
"Are you taking tips from Rangiku?" Mauve eyes glittered like gemstones, she squeaked when he dug his fingers into her ribs.
"That wasn't nice," he chided lightly.
She laughed brightly now, "Didn't you know? I'm not nice."
Hitsugaya grinned at the jab and tugged her even closer, he murmured into her ear, "Oh you are," A whisper of kisses brushed her hairline down to her temple, "Don't fool yourself with that lie."
She wasn't sure if she imagined the phantom feeling of velvet and silk.
"I hit Ichigo and Renji on a daily basis," Rukia admitted without shame, her fingers encircled his forearm as they walked down the hill.
"I'm sure it was well-deserved," he remarked flatly.
She giggled again.
Hitsugaya was growing to love that sound. A peal of laughter underneath the moonlight, poetic even, drenched in the opaque lavender of its rays, she glimmered like snowdrops and starlight. Slowly, he inched her hand downwards, until it wrapped around his wrist and then tangled in between his fingers. He grew to adore the weight of her hand in his, the warmth of her skin in his, and the smell of tsubaki and orchid that drifted from her hair.
"Where did you go?" Rukia blinked the exhaustion from her eyelids, "Earlier. Most of the Lieutenants were missing too."
Hitsugaya considered his thoughts. He made a noise of recognition, "Oh that. It wasn't very important. I had some paperwork to deal with and then a meeting with rotations."
"Rotations?"
"Expect a summon from Head-Captain Yamamoto sometime tomorrow. It will be a meeting regarding rotations and the substitute,"
Rukia rolled her eyes, "His name is Ichigo."
"I know what his name is," he replied dryly.
She stumbled over an overgrown tree root, the edge of the root caught her ankle and she hissed as it scraped the sensitive skin, "Goddamit."
Hitsugaya's arm wrapped itself around her waist and yanked to her his body. He pulled her towards the main fountain in the piazza, he cradled her ankle in the palm of his hand, and clucked his tongue, "Do I have to carry you, Kuchiki?"
"Nii-sama will burn a hole in your liver,"
"It can't be worse than the shochu," he pointed out smartly.
Rukia stared at him for a moment before she snorted, "Did you just make a joke?"
"Surprised?"
"A little," she noted without shock as his fingers traced the edges of her ankle bone.
Hitsugaya blew a bit of cold air onto her scrape until clotted over and healed into skin. "Just a scrape," he held his hand out to her and pulled her into his arms. Ignoring her sputtering, he used Flash steps to reach the Kuchiki compound and placed her back on her feet, "You need to sleep."
"I'm not drunk!"
"Just tipsy, then?" Hitsugaya smirked when she huffed, red-faced and endearing.
"I see you have a sense of humor when you drink," Rukia snorted and walked through the compound, "I'll be sure to tell Rangiku tomorrow."
Hitsugaya laugh rumbled somewhere between attractive and jubilant. The compound was as traditional as time, with inner circles and gates in gates, Hitsugaya took his time to memorize the pathway from the main hall, to Rukia's room—for safety reasons, of course.
"Will, you even remember?"
Rukia shot him a glare, her blood to alcohol ratio blurred the lights and had aqua-colored orbs hum in appreciation, "I'm drunk, not stupid."
"Oh," he huffed an amused breath, "So you are admitting you're drunk!"
"That's not what I—" she stammered at her error, maybe she was drunk. She scowled prettily, but she would rather shove pins in her eyes than admit that to Captain Hitsugaya, "I—I meant that I'm not that drunk."
"A little goes a long way?" he teased.
Rukia's blush rose to new levels, she swore her ears, were on fire, and she waved her hands up half-hazard. Furious with the brain refused to come up with a quip, she could only use her arms to take some of the attention off her face, and onto her limbs. But that did nothing to cool the skin of her rosy cheeks.
Hitsugaya leaned in and dropped a kiss to the corner of her mouth.
Rukia's chaotic and stuttering thoughts ground to an abrupt halt.
Hitsugaya's mouth warmed her to the bones, a way that alcohol had never been able to. Lips, soft, achingly sweet but intense all the same as he pressed, the hot, gentle pressure at the hook of her lips. His breath mimicked the sweetness of honey and bitter alcohol. Salt from the gyoza and the snow of his reiatsu.
It was only a moment, but it felt like the world had stopped spinning. There was nothing but heat and ice—molding and unmolding until it became a being of want and longing.
She leaned in, needing to feel the weight of his chest against her's, but she didn't tilt her head. She didn't have the confidence to do so, she was content sitting in his orbit, tangled into his veins and reiatsu.
Hitsugaya felt her melt into him – his reiatsu heavy with triumph but he had to be careful – he didn't want to push her, but he didn't want to let go either. The constant pull and push of him and her. The ice fractured into a kaleidoscope, multi-colored and dizzying shapes.
He breathed into her, brushing her lips down the elegant curve of her jaw – the jaw he had been particularly fixated with, it's dips and veins and the sweetness of her pulse – he pulled back. Teal orbs softened under the disbelief and guileless of amethyst eyes, he took a step back and murmured quiet as nightshade, "Good night, Rukia."
Hitsugaya disappeared under the shadows of the moon.
.
.
.
Can you picture it,
Babe, the life we could've lived?
.
.
.
Eight Hours Earlier:
After reading the report from Head-Captain Yamamoto, Hitsugaya glared at the clock just above his door in his office. He had, in his own way, gone over the possible options and choices that he could use. Some of which were understandably unreliable and others ridiculous, in theory. Parts of him curled in embarrassment, others wanted to slam his head against the wall.
Nothing, good in life was easy.
This just ticked the box on yes, this is necessary and therefore a goal.
In the whole of the Soul Society, there were very few people he could confine to, and or come to for advice. Captain Ukitake ranked highly on this list of his, but because this regarded his subordinate, he wasn't quite sure what the kind-hearted, albeit sickly – but very much capable man – would make of it. Captain Kyoraku, he was another man he respected as well, but his attentions come off as sleazy and just a little humiliating. As much as it pained him to admit that Captain Kuchiki was another man he respected, it was another to come to him with—this.
Hitsugaya, in all, had no choice.
According to Rangiku's rambling earlier in the day, the Shinigami Woman's Association had a meeting today, judging by the big hand on the clock, he would say in twenty minutes. If anyone could receive intelligence on short notice, infiltrate a highly-securitized compound and receive funds for their conquests, it was the SWA.
He just hoped Matsumoto would put in a good word for him.
The SWA's new location was in a secret passageway of the Kuchiki compound. Fortunately for him, Hitsugaya knew his way around the compound, of course, there were some places he wasn't so keen on, but his Lieutenant assured him, that if used the passageway from the plum tree across the koi pond, he'd come across a door covered with vinery.
Tucked in between to library cases, a washroom and a winery – how much wine did the Kuchiki clan need was a mystery that, perhaps, Matsumoto would end up solving – did he find the shoji door that led to the SWA's meeting room.
Before Hitsugaya could even grab his wits, the door slammed open and Matsumoto, in all her sunshine glory, beamed, "Come in, Captain! I already gave them the basics."
He looked at her warily before closing the door shut, "And what are exactly the basics?"
"She said that you had a question," Nanao sniffed.
Hitsugaya glared at his Lieutenant as she urged him to take a seat at the head of the table.
"What?" she frowned, "You didn't tell me what this was about."
He could've sworn he did, he sighed internally; how the might have fallen.
"Yes, my question," Hitsugaya cleared his throat uncomfortably, attempting to ignore the eyes on him, "It has come to my…attention, that I have something rather perplexing to pursue."
"And you couldn't go to your fellow captains?" Soi-Fon raised an eyebrow at this.
Nemu poured him a cup of tea.
"This requires…sharper minds," he said dryly, "I do not have much experience in this field, so I came to the next best thing possible."
Kiyone looked surprised at this.
"What do you need help with, Whitey?" Yachiru tilted her head.
Hitsugaya looked down at his tea and then took a sip. He inhaled, teal orbs glittering, he promised, "Before I tell you, I have to you swear—swear on Head-Captain Yamamoto's life and every God that you can think of, that this does not leave this room."
Unohana spoke for them, gently and sternly, "You have our word, Captain Hitsugaya. The SWA prides ourselves on our discretion and privacy."
He nodded in approval, "I need to know how to—" he scratched the back of his neck and sighed, "I need to know how to court a woman."
Exactly five seconds of silence filled the room before voices boomed in directions of the room. Some in surprise, delight, disgust, shock and other tones he could not hear for his ears nearly bled at the noise.
"Order!" Unohana, knocked her hand on the table, Hitsugaya shot her a grateful look, once the silence was established, the healer looked up and asked respectfully, "Now, Captain Hitsugaya, when you say court, do you mean that you intend to establish a marriage with this woman if said courtship is successful?"
"Yes," Hitsugaya answered immediately.
"It's Hinamori-san, isn't it," Isane mused, "We're going to have to tread carefully. She's been through a lot, so we don't want to overwhelm her."
Hitsugaya almost flinched, he was shaking his head before he realized, when he looked up, all eyes were on him. He cleared his throat, "No, it's not Momo."
"Oh," Isane looked surprised.
Rangiku had a knowing glint in her eyes, but she waited patiently.
"Well, I suggest flowers," Kiyone interjected, "Do you know her favorite flowers?"
He shook his head.
Soi-Fon sighed, "Most girls like when women pay attention to them, it makes us feel appreciated," she muttered, "Though too much attention is annoying enough as it is."
"No, no," Yachiru interjected, "Girls like cute stuff, sweets and anything soft."
Hitsugaya blinked at that and conceded, "She does like sweets."
The pink-haired girl nodded her head encouragingly, and motioned as if people didn't get it, "See."
Unohana tilted her head, "Very good, Yachiru. Most women, like patience. Kindness. Honesty. We want to be able to trust the men we're close to, we like to be assured that we are safe and that you can be trusted."
"But by no means do we mean to be coddled," Soi-Fon added in, "We can take care of ourselves, but sometimes it's…nice," the word came out funny on her tongue, "To have someone to watch our back and be reminded that we aren't alone."
"You don't want to crowd her," Isane said, "Make her feel like she's nothing, but some damsel that needs to be protected. Just keep her safe, from others – of course, she needs to fight her own battles – but from herself too."
"You can get pretty intense when you're focused, Captain," Rangiku decided to join the conversation, "Sometimes it can get too much and it can scare some women."
"Scare…" Hitsugaya frowned, "I don't want to scare her—," he breathed in appalled, "I don't want her to ever think that I would hurt her."
"Bring her lots of sweets and cute things," Yachiru pulled out a stuffed bear from underneath the table, "See, Kenny bought this for me for my birthday. After he wiped three Menos and an Espada. He wanted it to remind Yachiru of the beast!"
Nanao looked faintly ill.
"Have you considered taking her to dinner?" Nemu decided to jump in, "My research shows that most women like to "date" or go on "outings" to express their interest and desire for each other."
"I have taken her to dinner before," Hitsugaya pointed out.
"Did she know it was a date?" Soi-Fon raised a brow.
"Not exactly…"
"Then it doesn't count," Kiyone shook her head, "She's gotta know it's a date or she'll think of it as more of a comrade thing. Do you want her to be reminded that she's your subordinate? Her friend?" she paused, "She is your subordinate, right?"
Hitsugaya replied exasperatedly, "Yes."
"Communication is key," Unohana came back again, "It's very important that you establish what you want and what you need. Tell her that you want to court her if she says no, ask why. Persist until she gives you one, then come back and tell us what transpired."
He took in that for a moment, "What if she says yes?"
"Then you court her," Soi-Fon said, "It's not like you're going to war," she paused, "Technically."
Rangiku nodded, "After that, you can figure out her boundaries, your boundaries and what you want to share and what you would rather keep private."
"I want to share everything. I want to give her everything. I don't want there to be any secrets or riddles. Everything and anything," Hitsugaya said firmly, teal orbs blazed with a fire that seeped into the edges of the room, "I want her."
Nanao and the Kotetsu sisters blushed.
"That was…strangely romantic," Soi-Fon smirked.
Rangiku grinned, "Way to go, Captain!"
"Who's the lucky girl, Shorty?" Yachiru asked excitedly, red eyes bloodstone.
Hitsugaya leveled with her and declared, "Rukia Kuchiki."
Silence echoed in the conference room.
Soi-Fon sighed, "Oh no,"
Rangiku squealed Yachiru gasped childishly simultaneously.
He frowned.
"Well, it's back to the drawing board," Nanao hummed.
"Wait—"
"Rukia is in a league of her own," Kiyone interrupted, a knowing smile playing on her lips.
Isane nodded.
Nemu took notes.
"If it's Rukia Kuchiki you want," Unohana started her ultimatum, her eyebrows furrowing and lips thinning, "You won't need tactics, you're going to need a battle plan."
Soi-Fon laughed, "Looks like you're going to war, after all, Captain Hitsugaya."
.
.
.
All my dreams and all the lights mean
Nothing if I can't have you.
.
.
.
note: song choices – Lovesick by BANKS and Without You by Lana Del Rey.
Footnote1: Can you believe the audacity of Bleach? They're going to continue the anime, like I have nothing better to do than sit and write—
Footnote2: It's been almost a year, I think. I told ya'll I will finish this fic, even if I have to drag my fingers to my keyboard to do so. This self-quarantine thing is driving me up the wall, and I really hope I finish this fic soon.
Footnote3: Also, please someone write more Hitsuruki and Ichiruki fics, I am dying to read some. (Pls rec me some fics on my tumblr pls & thx).
Footnote4: Thank you, for not giving up on me and this fic. I wrote this fic when I was eighteen and now I'm almost twenty-four. My writing may have changed, if not, at least a little.
Footnote5: Your reviews honestly give me so much life. I read them when I'm feeling low and uninspired. Once again, thank you. Send me a message on tumblr or something if you're curious or have too much feels—since I can't find the will to leave this damned site.