Chapter 3: Breaking the Ice

Stalemate.

Neither Hitsugaya or Matsumoto moved a muscle for what felt like an eternity. The cool breeze murmured behind the echoing silence and danced across the room and between the two statuesque figures. Hitsugaya felt his heartbeat quicken as his anxiety rose higher and higher within him, creating and invisible hand clasping tightly across his throat. If no one said something soon, he feared he would suffocate.

"Taichou," Matsumoto finally broke the unbearable silence. Placing one hand nonchalantly behind her back, as if to rub her shoulder blades for comfort, she couldn't hold the burning regret back a second longer. "I'm sorry."

Hitsugaya felt himself surface from the uncertainty that was drowning him. Matsumoto's quiet apology was as a life saver, thrown out to him at sea to rescue him. A look of stunned sadness draped across his face, he searched within himself for any reason for her to be apologizing. "Sorry?", Toshiro mumbled, "Why would you need to apologize Lieutenant?" The last word stung Toshiro's tongue as it wafted across the room and into Matsumoto's petite ears. Unsure of why he'd pulled himself back into a more formal position, he noticed a small frown form on Matsumoto's face as well.

"I Just..." Matsumoto began searching frantically for the words in her mind, "I know that some, well, something about me bothered you today. I'm sorry that you had to take a severe wound for me like that." Miniscule tears formed in the bottom of Matsumoto's tired eyes as she began processing the thought of her long time captain referring to her only as "lieutenant" and not by name; she knew she had made a mistake. "I'm sorry you had to see me like that. Never again." Matsumoto swallowed the enormous lump that had formed in the back of her throat. "It won't happen again. I swear."

Toshiro felt a heavy anchor-like weight hang from the back of his lungs, tugging on his entire soul and pulling him closer to the ground; his heart was heavy. He had noticed the tears welling up in Matsumoto's eyes. Unable to understand the guilt she'd placed upon herself, he would have done anything at that moment to make her her happy self again...

...If I could only move.

Toshiro lowered his head and ran both hands through his silver hair, not able to see Matsumoto staring at the shimmering movement in front of her. It reminded her of a snowfall in the a dark winter night. "Idiot," Hitsugaya met Matsumoto's gaze as he looked back up into her lost-in-thought face. "Like a hollow of that level could have done anything," he smirked, watching the worry lift from Rangiku's elegant face. A tiny smile formed in the corner of her lips, slowly growing in size as Matsumoto's heart began to recover, no longer burdened with guilt. "Still Matsumoto," Hitsugaya stood up slowly in front of his subordinate, "Were you...hurt?" he asked with a polite but urgent hint of concern.

Matsumoto flicked away the hair that had slipped in front of her eyes with an errant twitch, looking up at her captain now standing a bit taller over her. She was unsure if letting him see the scratch would hurt or help their current shaky ground. But the look in Hitsugaya's eyes was more eager than usual. He wasn't gathering information on a hollow and it's destructive ability anymore. He was clearly very concerned about her well-being. She lifted her hand slowly from her lap and placed it on the portion on her collar bone that could be seen. "Only a scratch Taichou, from here..." she began tracing beyond her exposed neck area, across the scratch that was still covered by her kosode, "to here." She stopped just short of her right arm, allowing her palm to slowly drop. Before it hit her lap, she felt Hitsugaya clasp onto it.

"Tai...chou..." Matsumoto whispered, unable to recall a time in which Toshiro had ever physically touched her. The chill of his presence paled in comparison to that of his touch. Unsure exactly how long he had been holding her hand is his, she explored the cooling sensation that now began seeping into her entire soul. It was a cold feeling, but she did not shiver. The air around her felt more crisp and every little sensation was heightened, from the scent of Hitsugaya, so close to her body, to the gentle but strong touch he wielded.

Is this what it feels like all the time to Toshiro? Like a crisp winter night? Or is this me getting a true taste of his spiritual pressure for the first time?

Lost in the sensations firing throughout her body, she didn't resist as Hitsugaya slowly lifted their hands to the spot on her chest where she'd pointed out the scratch. He met her gaze, intensely asking the silent question. Knowing his intent, Matsumoto matched his serious gaze and nodded, not uttering a single word in permission or denial. As he let go of her hand, Toshiro watched his hand again rise to the shoulder of her kosode, resting it just off the side of her neck. Dizziness began to engulf Matsumoto, feeling his fingertips graze her tender skin. She'd never been so overwhelmed by a simple touch.

Slowly and carefully, Toshiro began to slip the fabric from her shoulder and down her arm, exposing the entirety of the fell scratch, yet leaving Matsumoto still modest. His eyes widened with anguish as he looked closer at the wound. It was not very deep, and appeared in the moonlight as though someone had taken a dark colored ink brush and painted a curving line across her silky upper torso, now shining naked in the moonlight. He did not notice during his inspection of the wound that Matsumoto had been silently staring deeply into his face, reading every tremble and twitch of the eyes. "It should not have happened Matsumoto," Toshiro sighed, failure evident in his heavy tone, "I'm the one who should be sorry." He closed his discouraged eyes, gently lifting the black fabric back onto her stiff shoulder. "You're too..." Hitsugaya paused and sighed deeply as he felt himself take the leap of faith in his mind, with no ability to turn back. "You're too perfect...too beautiful to be hurt in any way."

Matsumoto felt her heartbeat come to an abrupt halt. Her captain had never joked about her in such a way. Was it possible for him to do it here? At a time like this?

No. There's nothing jovial about the way he said those things. He truly doesn't want me harmed. He really believes that I am perfect...that I'm beautiful.

"Tai..." Matsumoto lifted her hand from where it lay against her chest with intent to place it on Toshiro's cheek for comfort, but he had disappeared before her very eyes.

Flash step!

Jerking her body around, she caught a glimpse of Toshiro, now hunched in the opening of the office window and staring back at her. Matsumoto, unable to move a muscle, couldn't tell if it was just the moonlight, but it looked as though he had tears both in his eyes and leaving a crystalline residue on his cheeks. They glistened in the light as he spoke, barely loud enough to hear, "Good night...Matsumoto. Please get some rest and heal that wound...for both of us." Then, within an instant, he turned to a mere distortion in her vision, and was gone.

Matsumoto clamored from the couch cushions, knocking over the trinkets strewn across the tabletop where Hitsugaya had sat only moments ago. Thrusting herself against the trim of the window in a futile attempt to catch him, she looked out over the quiet Soul Society.

But he was long gone.

"Toshiro," she whispered under her breath, noticing that she still held the Haori in her hand. Her heart was empty of desire to return to her quarters. Stumbling back over to the couch, she collapsed onto it's soft padding and covered herself once again with the Haori. Gently lifting it to her face, she silently smelled the fabric, attempting to fill the sudden emptiness inside her with the sensations she'd experienced earlier. It was filled with the calming scent of her captain. But was he still just her captain? Or was he now only her captain. She was bewildered by her sudden yearning for his company. It had never occurred to her before that they were so close; close enough to be on the edge of a cliff...just needing a push.

But is it only me on the cliffside?...if I jump alone...

With that thought, Matsumoto raised the Haori to her eyes, tears soaking softly into the fabric until she felt her eyelids grow heavy, and the world around her grow darker and darker, then fade completely into a cold, deep black.