Momo picked up her phone from the bedside table to check the time. She couldn't miss this train, else she'd be waiting a half hour for the next one.
The phone went into her bag, and her eyes found her reflection one last time before she stepped outside. On a moment's impulse, she tugged the pins out of her hair and let her everyday knot tumble apart onto her shoulders and upper back in waves.
Satisfied, she headed for the station.
It was the first party—or anything even resembling a private social event—that she'd attended since starting school here. She felt her nerves rising, felt the tension catch in her throat as she waited on the platform, absent-mindedly chewing on her lip while the 03 MIN wait signal for the next train flashed monotonously before her eyes.
It was a cool evening. Twenty past eight and the sun had yet to go down. The air was still and the sky was virtually cloudless. Momo loved this kind of night. She would've liked to have gone for a walk by her lonesome, drinking it in, but she had made up her mind. She was going to this party.
For so long, she'd avoided things like these, friends like these, feelings like these, but where had that gotten her? She was still every bit as anxiety-ridden and regretful as she'd been then. The only solution was to try something new, because hiding didn't seem to be helping.
The sound of the train whistle as it blared its arrival startled her out of her thoughts, and in seconds the car doors were blinking in front of her, waiting for her to step on.
Her car was relatively empty, carrying only a pair of schoolboys, a sleeping woman in a business suit, a college professor immersed in his cell phone, and a pregnant girl who couldn't have been a day older than Momo.
"…cute," said one of the schoolboys, as Momo wrapped her fingers around the metal pole and steadied herself. She didn't feel like taking a seat since the ride wouldn't be longer than ten minutes.
She realized then that the boys were darting glances at her, and she suddenly felt self-conscious.
Her hair looked strange when it was down, didn't it? She hadn't worn it down since she resolved to leave Aizen behind. It tickled the back of her neck, her bare upper arms, a constant reminder of how foreign her old self had become to her.
And her eyes. Her makeup, was it too strong? She had purposefully overstepped tonight, just to give her a bit more confidence, but it seemed to be doing the opposite.
And her outfit was unbecoming, she figured. It was so feminine, so open, so unlike the Momo Hinamori that this school had come to be acquainted with.
One of the boys managed to catch her eye, and the corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk. He raised an eyebrow, appreciating her look, and Momo instinctively looked away.
But slowly, inside of her, something was rising. It was white-hot, seeping into every vein, filling her with confidence she didn't know she had. It was oddly enchanting, to know that someone found her interesting, someone was interested, someone was telling her they were interested. She was starting to matter to the world again. Her presence was getting louder, finding its shape again, making itself known.
She caught his eye again, and this time she smiled without inhibition. He looked slightly taken aback, not having expected it, but the train pulled to a stop then, and Momo had to get off.
She didn't look back at them when she left, but she could feel them ogling.
The music from the Kurosaki house could be heard from down the street. The moment Momo turned the corner, she could even see the lights of all the cars pulling into the same little cul-de-sac. She steeled herself and approached, keeping her eyes peeled for a familiar face, be it Rangiku or Toshiro or even Karin.
But it was a stranger who let her into the house, a girl who Momo knew to be one of the soccer team's most vocal fans.
"Hey girl!" she chirped, her cheeks and ears rosy from alcohol. "What school are you from?"
Slightly bemused, Momo just smiled warmly and sidestepped the tipsy girl, who hardly seemed to be able to comprehend her response anyway. Momo let herself feel the tiniest bit flattered that she'd been mistaken for someone else; it not only confirmed that she didn't look anything like her everyday persona, it told her that she looked popular enough for others to acknowledge her.
She slipped through the living room, drinking in the sight of nearly two dozen rowdy teenagers packed like sardines into the modest space. Straight on through to the restroom, only pausing to scan the heads for one with familiar white hair.
I'll find him later, she dismissed, and ducked quickly into the restroom just as another girl was leaving it. She closed the door behind her and faced herself in the mirror, forcing deep breaths to calm herself. Already she could feel equal parts adrenaline and anxiety bubbling up from within her stomach. As nerve-wracking as coming back to this scene was for her, she couldn't deny that she felt a fair deal of nostalgia and excitement from it.
One step at a time. One step forward.
Toshiro glanced at his phone for the eighteenth time that night. Where was Momo?
The party had "officially" started about an hour ago, but Toshiro had arrived early just in case she would, too. He hated the idea of her suffering through awkward crowds of unfamiliar faces for too long.
No updates from her, either. He wondered how long it was appropriate to wait before asking if she was alright.
"Hey, there you are," came Ichigo's voice, from behind his left shoulder. "Want a beer? Renji just got here with a bunch."
Toshiro shook his head. "You got ice water?"
Ichigo nodded and ducked past Toshiro to fetch him a glass. Toshiro rubbed the back of his neck, which was starting to get damp with sweat. The house was packed, there was only one window open, and no wind.
"Where's your friend?" Ichigo said, handing Toshiro the glass of water. "Didn't you say she was coming?"
Toshiro simply shrugged. "No idea. She'll get here when she gets here."
Inwardly, he was just as curious as Ichigo – perhaps even more so. Hadn't she been the one who wanted to come, anyway? He was certain she wouldn't bail last-minute.
"Hey, you guys! Come help Renji bring the booze in from his car!" hollered Karin, popping her head into the kitchen doorway. "I can't do it all myself."
Toshiro set down his glass and obediently followed the Kurosakis out the back door to where Renji had parked in the alley. Renji's face was almost as red as his hair as he stumbled out of the passenger side, hauling a stack of six-packs. He clearly hadn't waited to get to the party before drinking.
"Did you drive here drunk?" Toshiro asked, unimpressed, as he relieved Renji of the stack.
"It's fiiiiine, bro, I live, like, four minutes away."
Rolling his eyes with disdain, Toshiro headed back into the house. Karin, following closely behind, said: "Take it right into the living room, Toshiro, they're waiting for it in there."
He obeyed, leaving the beer in the ready hands of Ikkaku. Karin crossed over to the other side of the living room to distribute the bottles herself.
Just as Toshiro turned around to head to the back door again, he nearly collided with someone returning from the shadowy corridor that led to the restroom and staircase.
"Excuse me," he muttered, but then she spoke, and her voice stopped him in his tracks.
"Hitsugaya-kun?"
It was Momo. He took a step back and looked at her properly. He took in the form-fitting outfit, the hair that framed her face, the earrings glinting out from under the soft dark waves, right down to the eyeliner and mascara that made her brown eyes pop.
"Hinamori," he said, blinking. For once, he didn't know what to say. "You – you look like a different person."
She shrugged and smiled nervously. "I know, right? Is it too much?"
Toshiro shook his head, slow. "No," he said, quite firmly. "It's great." And it wasn't a lie. Knowing that she was getting comfortable, coming into herself, feeling okay with coming out of her shell and returning to her true self – it felt like witnessing a miracle.
"Someone asked me what school I went to," Momo grinned. "I must look really different."
Toshiro smirked in response. "You look good," he assured her. "I wouldn't have recognized you, either."
Momo pretended to look insulted, but she failed. "Too nervous to be offended by the implication of that," she chuckled. "I'm going to try and make a few friends by the end of the night."
Toshiro glanced over his shoulder, around the living room. "With these clowns?" he said, watching as Ikkaku tried to balance a beer bottle on his head. "Good luck."
Momo only smiled, looking rather fond of the boisterousness.
"Seriously, though," said Toshiro, turning back to her, "if it's too much and you just need someone familiar to hang around, you can find me."
"Thank you," she said sincerely.
"Hey, Toshiro! Are you helping us or not?" said Karin's voice, as she dropped another case of beer on the coffee table. She came over to where he was, clapping her hand on his shoulder as she drew herself up beside him. "Who're you flirting with over here?"
Momo smiled at Karin. "Hi, again."
Karin stared. "It's you," she said. "Hinamori, right?"
"Yes, thanks again for inviting me. You have a beautiful home."
"Won't be too beautiful after the team is done with it tonight," scoffed Toshiro.
"You look … so different from when I last saw you," Karin said, looking just as stunned as Toshiro had felt just moments before. He didn't blame her; Momo was subtly glowing and even he was having trouble not staring at the transformation. "You're actually so pretty."
Momo blushed, the corners of her eyes crinkling from delight that she couldn't hold back. "Oh, it's just the makeup," she stammered. "I stopped wearing it for a while, so…" Her voice trailed off; she felt her confidence abandoning her, ironically. "Thank you for saying that, though."
"How'd you two meet, again?" Karin asked, looking from Momo to Toshiro. "Toshiro never told me."
"That's not—"
"Oh, I sit next to Hitsugaya-kun in AP History class," Momo said simply.
"Oh," was all Karin said, eyeing Toshiro curiously. "Anyway, Toshiro, let's go see if the guys still need help back there?"
"Yeah, sure," he agreed, eager for an opportunity to leave the conversation. He followed Karin towards the kitchen, throwing a backward glance over his shoulder to see Momo one more time. She lifted a hand in farewell and mouthed see you later before turning to join the fray.
Once they were out of earshot, Karin said off-handedly, "I didn't realize you were so friendly with your classmates."
Toshiro just shrugged. "She's not annoying," he offered in explanation, though his tone made it clear that he wouldn't say more on it.
"Am I annoying?" Karin teased, but her voice belied a hint of uncertainty.
"Not as annoying as your brother," Toshiro said loudly as they encountered Ichigo at the car.
Ichigo simply made a face at him. "Thanks for all the help, Captain," he said sarcastically, as he closed the trunk. "We couldn't have done it without you."
"Behave," Karin groaned. "It's a night of celebration. Our team won!" Looking around, she added curiously, "Speaking of, has anyone seen Izuru?"
Momo collapsed onto the couch, seeing an empty spot. She was socially spent, having introduced herself endlessly to so many people in the last hour alone. She took another deep, calming breath and began planning her escape from the party. She was ready to go. Leave as a mystery. Wasn't that always preferable?
Almost immediately, the seat cushion sank beside her and she mentally sighed. Another interaction incoming.
"How's your night going?"
Momo's dread instantly melted and gave way to relief as she turned to look at Toshiro.
"Hey, stranger," she breathed happily. "Good to see you."
Toshiro handed her a glass of water. "Did you drink?"
She patted her cheek to gauge its temperature, contemplative. "Not very much. Am I red?"
He smirked. Her face only betrayed the mildest flush, but her ears burned scarlet.
"Did you?" she asked him, but the beer in his hand was telling. "You're hardly red at all."
He shrugged. "My body runs pretty cold. It doesn't show."
"I think I'll go pretty soon," she told him. "I've met enough people for a couple weeks."
Toshiro chuckled and inclined his head at the glass. "Drink some water first. I'll send you home."
Momo obediently sipped at the water, but shook her head gently. "It's fine, it's just a train ride. I'm close to the station."
Toshiro looked out the window. "It's pitch black outside and past midnight. A girl like you sticks out like an easy target."
Momo raised an eyebrow. "And a small kid with white hair wouldn't?"
Toshiro recoiled and glared at her. "I'm not small," he retorted. "Nor a kid."
She only laughed softly, but then she leaned in closer and said, teasing and quiet: "Shiro-chan."
Toshiro narrowed his eyes. "Yeah, time for you to go home," he snapped. "You're getting too bold tonight."
Momo laughed again.
Toshiro watched her sidelong, relishing in how comfortable she seemed and how easily she could laugh around him now. At the same time, goosebumps had erupted up the back of his neck from the feeling of her whisper by his ear. He was suddenly hyper-aware of her arm pressed against his side.
It was as Karin said, she really was pretty. She was close enough that he could see the dark lashes, the shine of her eyes. He couldn't remember ever noticing this much detail about another person, let alone a girl, before. Then again, he hadn't ever let himself get this close to another person before.
"I'll be okay," Momo assured him. "I'll text you when I'm home."
And he conceded. Perhaps it was because he didn't want to overstep, or because he didn't want Karin to accuse him of flirting with Momo again, even jokingly. Perhaps it was starting to disturb him, how easily she was getting under his skin and how readily he was letting her in, even inviting her in, drawing her close. He had spent so much time inching toward it, getting Momo to trust him and gradually open up, and it had all felt like slow motion until now suddenly it felt like a roaring train and the full force of getting what he wanted was somewhat overwhelming.
After tonight ended, he reminded himself, it would all be restored. On Monday, she'd come to class, they'd do their work in comfortable silence.
"Fine. Don't forget, Bed-Wetter. Call me if you need anything."
She pushed his shoulder in playful indignation as she stood up. His eyes followed her as she went about the room, offering light goodbyes to the handful of people she had met, and then she left through the front door.
Instantly it seemed like the party had gone very dull, and the space beside him on the couch felt significantly empty. Perhaps he would go home soon, too.
"Hitsugaya-kun," said one of the more sober girls, her hair dyed a muted copper, "how do you know her?"
Toshiro realized the girl had been watching him converse and bid farewell to Momo. He simply shrugged. "She's a friend."
The girl raised her eyebrows but smiled encouragingly, and Toshiro could feel that her eyes were still on him even after he'd turned away from her.
Momo picked a clean seat on the train. There was a man sleeping on the seats at the far end of the train car, swallowed up by his oversized moth-eaten brown hoodie. He looked homeless, but also relatively harmless.
The doors dinged as they slid shut, and the train began to rattle its way noisily down the rails.
Momo leaned back in her seat and relived the evening in her mind. From the moment she was welcomed at the door to the last conversation with Toshiro, it all felt like a high. Surreal. A daydream that would end like Cinderella's magic.
She knew it was only one night, and that nothing had probably changed, but it had felt amazing to tap back into the person she once was and let all that stifled personality shine through again.
At the next stop, a trio of boys boarded the train. Momo could hear their whispers, but didn't turn to look. She was wondering whether she should have stayed a bit longer at the party, maybe she'd have a better chance to get to know the people once the numbers wound down and things were quieter …
But no, she reminded herself, by then everyone would be too drunk to converse much, or even remember her in the morning. And she was tired – she wouldn't have been able to make a good impression on anyone when she was yawning every few minutes. The modest amount of alcohol she'd drank had made her drowsy.
As the train screeched, starting to hurtle down the tracks again, Momo noticed something in the window's reflection.
A face she knew.
Her eyes widened and she froze, all her thoughts draining from her mind just as the colour must have drained from her face at that very moment. Slowly she turned her head, terror-stricken as her eyes found the reflection's counterpart in reality.
"Aizen…?" she whispered.
He sat there on the seats opposite her, flanked by Gin and Kira. On his lips was a smile, infuriatingly kind and without any malice whatsoever, but she could sense the mockery behind it.
"Hello again, Hinamori-chan," said Gin, as slimy and unpleasant as the smile plastered on his face. "Fancy seeing you here."
And with that greeting Momo knew, without a doubt, that it was no coincidence for them to have ended up in the same train car.
"How long have you guys been following me?" she demanded, unable to keep the tremor out of her voice.
Aizen's gaze was boring into her, puncturing her comfort. "What makes you think," he said softy, "that I ever took my eyes off you?"
Far from being romantic, the words sent a shock of spine-chilling fear through Momo's body. For a moment, her vision even went completely blank, she was so shaken.
"Silly Hinamori-chan," leered Gin, in a singsong voice, "thinkin' silly things…"
And all this while, Kira stayed silent. He looked somewhat shameful, but hard-faced, as he stared directly at the ground with his hands clasped tightly in his lap. Momo couldn't help noticing that his knuckles were white from the tightness of his own grip on himself.
"Kira," she murmured, imploring him to look at her, "Kira, tell me what's going on—"
"No need," Aizen said smoothly, "I'll tell you."
Momo wanted desperately to shout at him to shut up, that she didn't want or need him to tell her anything ever again, but something about the disquieting sound of him speaking was enough to paralyze her into listening.
"Did you really think I wouldn't try to find you?" continued Aizen, looking rather amused. "How thoughtless of you. I knew you hadn't died in the fire. I knew that wouldn't be enough to kill you. You've a strong spirit, it's what I liked about you."
Momo noticed the past tense, could sense the danger ringing through the words.
"But I couldn't let you go on believing that was it," he went on, a horrible smirk growing from the small smile he'd been wearing the whole time. "Just move on to a new life where you get to pretend that your ex-boyfriend never existed?"
"That's not true," Momo said immediately, "I never denied your existence, Aizen, I've—"
"—been telling friends about me, haven't you?" Aizen finished. He looked to Kira, briefly. "Kira was just a little test. Sent him to make sure your memory of me is still pure and strong." Aizen leaned back in the train seat, mirroring Kira's pose with his hands folded in his lap. Kira, on the other hand, seemed to shrink forward, his tall wiry frame curling up as though he wanted to hide. "I know about Hitsugaya, though."
Momo narrowed her eyes, the slow burn of blossoming rage starting to melt away her ice-cold terror. "You can't keep me alone forever, Aizen."
"Oh, Momo," Aizen chuckled, "you really are dense if you believe that's been my goal all along." His eyes hardened suddenly, challenging her own scowl. "I only wanted to keep you mine, forever."
The train dinged then, and Momo bolted upright like a springboard, mobilizing her feet out the doors and across the platform with speed she never dreamed of possessing.
Run, run, run, pounding in her head. Just get away. Don't stop moving.
Although the boys did not follow her, Momo continued to sprint, all the way home.
Momo slammed the door shut behind her. Deadbolt. Chain lock. Then she ran to the window and made sure the blinds weren't giving any space for intruders to see in.
Her breathing was rapid and shallow, the sweat drying fast on her back. Her heartbeat raced.
She had made it back in record time. It turned out that trying to escape from demonic ex-boyfriends was quite the motivator.
She changed out of her party clothes, cleaning off her makeup and getting ready for bed. All the while chanting prayers in her head. Begging for protection. Begging to wake up from a nightmare. Momo felt her eyes watering from the all-consuming fear.
He was here. Aizen.
Which meant she was a dead girl walking.
In bed, hidden under her covers, her phone suddenly vibrated in her trembling hands.
A text from Toshiro. Did you make it home OK?
She wanted to call him. Her heart hadn't slowed down yet, but it ached. She hated how much he cared, how much she wanted to bury herself in his concerned eyes but knew she shouldn't involve him for his own safety.
Momo stared at the text message for a while. Then, long after the wetness had dried on her cheeks, she texted back.
Yup. See u Monday!
One step at a time. One step back.
Lol I haven't updated in almost a decade. Just got access to my old account and wanted to continue this story. Especially with the new Bleach episodes coming out, this feels particularly nostalgic.
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