Disclaimer: Bleach is not mine.
Takes place after chapter 172.
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Aster
Hinamori Momo ponders the meaning of words.
The line between careless and carefree is fine and hard to walk.
Her taichou- hers, still, she believes (or hopes?)- whispered the phrase to her, once, as she stood on the roof of Fifth Division headquarters by his side, looking both at his eyes and at the stars.
Or it was stars that she saw in his eyes. Could she really tell, was she deceiving herself, was it all just an illusion- can she see him clearly from behind those lenses, is the view impeded by the glass? Was it just a mirage such as those he was most comfortable in wielding?
She notes that she normally refrains from rambling like this, she of few words save for those of praise, comfort, hope...comfortable, warm emotions.
Granted, it is very difficult for her to ponder in a coherent manner as she feels her lifeblood seep out around her, letting her lie in a pool of rapidly cooling liquid. She muses that it is reminiscent of the times that she and Shirou-ch-- my apologies, Hitsugaya-kun, I didn't mean to be disrespectful-- would play in the alleys of the outskirts and when it rained she would fall in the puddles often, clumsy, graceless (carefree) child that she was- and when she slipped, he would do her best to catch her, small, defiant child that he was-
and he would drawl that some day I'll learn to control the rain, bedwetter-Momo, so that we'll be able to tell whether the rain's wet your bed or if you have. And maybe you won't fall.
The last part was added as an afterthought, as if to conceal the fact that he was trying to help her. She smiles- oh, no, not physically, as she can feel her body going cold and numb- but then again, how can she feel it if she is numb? Hm, technicalities- and wonders if she'd like to see him one more time.
As if her rebellious ears are in accord with this thought, she imagines that she hears her name spoken by his voice again. Why, her faltering mind manages to produce it well, she can almost surmise that the shadow falling across her body and the strangled "Hi...na...mori?" aren't figments of her imagination.
Figments don't demand her waning attention, though, so she allows her mind to dance farther away but closer still, as there are more pressing matters on hand- no time for lingering on illusions he was a master of illusions, yet I wish I could still be with him- no time for anything, truthfully. If she could move, she'd like to hold Tobiume again, because in the end, it was she who failed her sword, and the firebird deserves an apology. But now her eyes are closed and she's feeling delightfully lethargic as she really hadn't been able to relax in the last few days.
Now that she's no other option, she embraces it. Never mind that she's embracing the night, the darkness, never mind that she's fading.
Then she feels the cold sweep over her, imagines that she sees the ice of Hell rushing toward her fallen figure (was such a funny contrast to her fire)-
and she thinks: Silly Shirou-chan. Always, always practicing.
Then she doesn't think anymore.
-fin-
(because she's been careless)
