Izuru Kira set down his pen and regarded the sheet of paper on his lap doubtfully.
"No, no, that won't do," he muttered to himself, scrunching the sheet up one-handed and tossing it away, the gentle breeze carrying it six feet down the hill where it became caught in the long grass and rolled no further. Izuru paid it no mind.
Furrowing his brow as his fringe blew into his face, Izuru wracked his brains for the right words. Unable to come up with anything, he picked up his pen and drew another sheet of paper onto his lap, willing the impossibly beautiful seventeen syllables into existence. Izuru stared out over the valley and closed his eyes, taking in the lingering scent of grass and pollen.
Smiling slightly, confident that the words would eventually come, Izuru set pen to paper and waited.
"Good afternoon, Izuru!"
Izuru would have known that gentle voice anywhere. The sound, clear and pure, was as familiar to him as his own breathing by now; indeed, it took him a second to realise that he had not been imagining it in the noise of the rustling grass.
Turning his head, Izuru was greeted by the sight of a slight woman approaching him, the soft sweetness of her features marginally offset by her characteristic demeanour of steely determination.
"Good afternoon, Momo."
The girl tilted her head slightly to the side and regarded Izuru with an expression of curiosity. "What are you doing?"
"Oh, just writing," Izuru shrugged, turning his head away slightly before his gaze could burn a hole through Momo Hinamori's pretty face.
"Oh," Momo responded, sitting down next to him on the slope and peering at the blank page on Izuru's lap. "May I see?"
"Considering the fact that you are already looking, I don't really understand why you are asking me," Izuru said. "I'm afraid I've got nothing, yet."
Momo smiled encouragingly. "I'm sure you'll think of something! You're so smart, Izuru!"
Izuru's eyes widened and he blushed slightly, taken aback by the unexpected praise. "Ah, thank you, Momo," he replied, hoping the fringe in his face would do an adequate job of concealing the red in his cheeks.
"You're welcome!" she said, brightly, pushing herself to her feet and brushing the grass from her shihakusho with slim, delicate hands. "I'll leave you to it, I wouldn't want to distract you from your art!"
If he had been braver, Izuru might have said that she was such a distraction even when she wasn't there, swirling images and looping sounds constantly invading his mind, that she had somehow become the very reason for his art a long time ago. However, fearless Izuru wasn't, so he said nothing, instead settling for a nod and a wave.
"Oh, but what's this?" Izuru heard Momo saying as he was turning his head back to his blank sheet of paper. "We can't have litter!"
Seeing Momo pick up a scrunched up sheet of paper slightly downhill, Izuru frowned. "You can probably leave that, Momo, it'll break down on its own."
"I know, but it looks so untidy!" Momo replied, carefully unfolding the paper and smoothing out the creases with her small hands. "Oh, it's a haiku!" she exclaimed, enthusiastically.
Izuru's heart sank as he realised precisely what Momo had found. However, before he could raise an objection, Momo ploughed on.
"Delicate flowers
Flutter and float on the wind
Drifting peach blossom."
Izuru wanted the ground to swallow him up. Just as he was about to protest that he wasn't responsible, that the pathetic excuse for an attempt at poetry hadn't been his, Momo spoke again.
"I like it."
Izuru blinked.
"Did you write this?" Momo asked, holding out the sheet to him.
Everything in Izuru's brain told him not to respond, but soon enough he found himself nodding his head.
"You told me you hadn't written anything!" Momo chastised, giggling. "You're such a liar, Izuru! This is a wonderful haiku."
Izuru felt his face grow even warmer and wondered how long it would be before his entire head caught on fire. "Er, thank you, Momo," he stammered. "Please could I have it back, now?"
Momo drew the sheet of paper closer to her chest. "No."
"Excuse me?"
"Well, firstly, you wouldn't have thrown it away if you wanted it. Secondly, this haiku is so beautiful, I think it needs an audience. I'm going to show it to Renji!"
Izuru suddenly felt the heat leave his cheeks and realised his blush had lost out to the horror of the thought of Renji's expression if he head the haiku; Renji had been perfectly aware of Izuru's crush on Momo for many years, and Izuru knew perfectly well that Renji would immediately understand the meaning behind the haiku and never let him live it down.
"See you later, Izuru!" Momo declared as she began to skip off, giggling.
Izuru hastily gathered up his paper and pen and leapt to his feet, prepared to chase the laughing Momo all the way back to the Seireitei if he had to.