Requested by Kiharu Lamperouge- thank you
Momo and Kira
Permanent
She couldn't understand it, and didn't even try to see past the barrier of her former Captain's image in her mind. Izuru had always been such a good soul, in every way, and had always been sensible with it- how had he fallen so completely underneath the spell of the deserted Ichimaru, the man who betrayed them all, the man who stole her beloved Aizen?
He sat there when Hisagi and Abarai took them out, to try and make them both feel better, and he had that same inwards stare that she did, the same look that spoke so many volumes of emotion that could not, truly, be translated into words. And everyone took care of him, as if it was right for him to be so sad! Granted, they were caring for her, she could see that, but she was justified, because Aizen had been taken, had been manipulated. It couldn't be his fault, she just knew it.
So, what right did Izuru have, to act as if he were grieving as much as she was?
It filled her with rage, a feeling that burnt through the coldness of her sorrow and loneliness.
"How can you miss him?"
Her voice was accusatory, and Hisagi and Abarai looked at her with that cautious stare that so many people used on her these days. She was struck, suddenly, with the knowledge that somewhere along the line the two of them came to owe more of an allegiance to Izuru than to her, but as it was, right now she could not bring herself to care about them at all. The only one left who she felt anything for was Izuru, and even then it was only rage.
"Hina-"
"No, it's alright."
Izuru was so damn calm, and it infuriated her. She was sure that there was pity in his eyes, too, and that was just as bad.
"He's gone, Hinamori. Gone for good, you know that, right? It's permanent."
"Just like your own Captain, Kira. Do you miss him?"
She felt venom on her tongue almost before the words came out, and a very small part of her (the part that was still the Momo from before Aizen, who just wanted to do her best), felt immediately shamed by it.
Kira nodded, slowly.
"Neither of them are."
She felt the rage build up inside of her body like a force awaiting escape: it was hot and painful and it bubbled with hatred and animosity, cutting through the urge to cry that normally lingered on the edge of her consciousness. Her jaw was tense, and although she did not see it, their two friends noticed that her hands, on the table top, were clenched so hard that her nails were cutting crescent-moon grooves into her skin.
"How can you just sit there, and say that like it doesn't matter?"
Her voice was near a scream; the people around them were staring.
Kira rested a hand, with such gentleness that she might have been made of glass, on her hair, as if that could make her feel better.
It only made the anger worse, a red flush growing across her cheeks. How did he have the audacity to be so tender, when his own touch was practically traitorous?
She stood and fled, leaving them, hating him.
But then, she realised as she slowed to a walk when she heard Hisagi coming after her, knowing that he could outstrip her easily, she supposed that she had to be just a little bit grateful, because aside from her anger, she had been so very, very numb, for such a long time. And though it had been- she was sure- that wicked Ichimaru who had taken Aizen away, she thought that she might, just, be able to forgive Izuru for still yearning after him, if only for the fact that right now, as his hand was on her head, she felt just a little warm.
Hisagi took careful hold of her arm, but her eyes had faded back to a blank stare already, and he lead her quietly back to the Fourth Division.