It Takes Time
By: Le tired
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach or its characters, blah blah blah, etc.
Rated: M.
Author's Notes: I'm back (again)! Very sorry once again for the hiatus, I finally got a better handle on my health and got a job and apartment again! Truly, thanks to all those who have read and reviewed and been infinitely patient with me.
Nanami B: Thank you for the review! Hitsugaya's gigai IS super cute, and I definitely wish I saw more of it in the anime!
Insanity294: Haha thanks, I'm glad you found the chapter funny! Sometimes I wonder if I'm going overboard with the goofiness but then I remember several Bleach episodes that were just sheer ridiculousness, and then I feel better :P.
kriitikko: Thank you! You are totally right in your assessment as usual regarding Hitsugaya's reaction!
sagitgirlth: Thanks very much! I'm glad I was able to capture emotion that resonates with you. I also would love that feeling for sure :).
Prince of Winter Dragons: Thank you! Yeah, it's a shame Matsumoto and Hitsugaya couldn't just live there forever, but I guess Orihime needs her place back at some point haha. I hope you equally enjoy this chapter and Hitsugaya's reaction!
Michele Uchiha: Thanks for another review! I agree, HitsuMatsu is an excellent example of opposites attracting. At the same time, they definitely have a lot of good qualities about their personalities in common. Unfortunately I think Hitsugaya will always have trouble showing a lot of affection, but Matsumoto is tough and she's always known that side of him, so I wouldn't be too worried for her! :D
RavenXRobin: Thank you! I shall do my best!
ZeroDarkNex14: Just a 10/10? Not an 11? I must try harder! :P In all seriousness, that is high praise. Thank you very much!
bloodyrosesbrokenspirits: Thank you, I'm so happy other people get my sense of humor!
MataShiru: Thanks, I'm really touched by how much you like my fics!
THRM: Sorry I'm so late, but the chapter is up now! I hope you like it!
Shadows of Darkness: Hello, thanks for the review! Yay, a fellow obsesser! I love that omake too, and I definitely wanted to incorporate more of Matsumoto taking photos of Hitsugaya, but I haven't quite figured out how yet. There will, though, definitely be a bit of soccer in upcoming chapters based off the episode where he meets Karin!
aureaqueen: Thank you! I'm in all likelihood the world's slowest fic writer, but I promise I don't have any plans to leave the story unfinished!
Chapter 35
Toshirou was having a stroke. He didn't think Shinigami could have strokes, but stranger things had happened. Ukitake had some sort of lung disease, didn't he? Now he, Hitsugaya Toshirou, could have the dubious honor of joining his fellow white-haired captain as a Soul Society medical anomaly.
Because there was no other way to explain why he was seeing himself in a suit of fur complete with a long bushy tail and pointy dog ears running around on all fours in Inoue's living room with a ball in his mouth. And bringing it over to Matsumoto, who was kneeling on the ground, cooing and petting him, as if this were totally ordinary and acceptable everyday behavior.
It was all the recent stress and fatigue. That must have brought on the stroke. Or maybe it was a psychotic break from reality. He'd run into two more Hollows on his way back. Average, run-of-the mill creatures that he'd dispatched with a swing of Hyourinmaru, and hadn't given a second thought to, but had clearly been the straw that broke the camel's back—or his mind, in this instance. They'd barely registered on his mental radar, which was pinging with a dozen other concerns—reports he had to finish tonight, what training regimen he should implement for himself the next day, the garbage that had to be taken out tonight (but not before proper sorting, as he'd learned from Matsumoto), whether or not his gigai had successfully made it back…
HIS GIGAI.
The words flashed through the whirling maelstrom of his confusion like a strobe light. Oh. My. God.
"MATSUMOTO!"
His lieutenant jumped, dropped the ball, and spun around, although her hand continued to rest on top of his gigai's hair. The panicked and guilty deer-in-the-headlights look on her face told him everything he needed to know. "Taichou! You're back! …um, that is…er, welcome back! Did you, ahem, have a good patrol?"
"This is why you 'needed' my gigai?!" He was having a stroke after all. He couldn't see. His vision was turning red. Probably from his blood pressure. He'd finally let it spike too high, and now all the blood vessels in his eyes had burst.
"Ah hahaha well, this…well, you know…um, it's not…you see, he came back like this, Hitsugaya-taichou!" Matsumoto got up and started backing away. The gigai did as well.
"Don't you even TRY that with me," he snarled, feeling his facial muscles twitch in rage and contort into a murderous grimace. He stared at the fur-covered version of himself. "WHAT AM I EVEN WEARING?!"
"W-well, you see, taichou, it's…ah, it's a Halloween costume. You're a wolfman. We were just, um…getting into the spirit of things, that's all! And since I knew you wouldn't want to celebrate…"
"That ridiculous holiday isn't for another TWO WEEKS."
"Oh, you knew about it, taichou?"
"I'm not blind. I've seen the store decorat—DON'T YOU CHANGE THE SUBJECT." Deep breaths. He had to remember to take deep breaths. She is my lieutenant. I can't kill her. She is my lieutenant. I can't kill her. She is my lieutenant. I can't kill her… or can I? NO. He had to get out. "I'm leaving. When I return, I expect my gigai to be in the state I left it. We're going to eat and pretend this never happened." He looked over at his gigai one more time. In a fur suit. With ears. A tail. A TAIL. I can't even…
He almost wished for a full-on stroke. Or selective amnesia. Seeing himself as an anthromorphized wolf was NOT a visual memory he needed. Ever. Surely the twelfth division could throw something together for him. Even if it wiped away half his Shinigami training, he'd take it. He could figure out bankai again, no big deal.
"It'll be done for sure, taichou! Give me just ten minutes!"
He risked one last glare back at his lieutenant. Matsumoto was smiling and nodding confidently. Maybe I don't kill her. But she, for sure, is going to be the death of me.
And what a death it would be. Involving furry costumes, probably. Trying not to think about it, Toshirou shunpo'ed out the door.
"Ahh, that was such bad luck! I can't believe I didn't hear him coming through the door!" Matsumoto complained as the door slammed shut. She turned back to the gigai which was, as might be expected, close to having a nervous breakdown from their confrontation with the furious tenth division captain. Their breaths were coming out as visible puffs of steam in the chilly room now, and the furniture was covered in a light sheen of frost. Matsumoto bent down and brushed off the condensation on a nearby armchair. "Don't worry, Hitsugaya-taichou isn't angry with you. He knows you're not too blame."
"I-I think there's still a ten, no, maybe twenty percent probability…"
"Not at all! Hitsugaya-taichou just likes to make a big fuss over nothing. But you'll see, when he comes back, he'll be totally fine again!" She gave it an encouraging smile. It had about as much of an effect as it had on the real Hitsugaya—that is, zero. "But we should get you out of that costume. How's that sound?"
A new thought occurred to her as they headed into the living room where Hitsugaya's original clothes—she sighed at the old man shirt and slacks—lay crumpled on top of a drawer. "I forgot, where's the bento boxes you bought? We need to have dinner ready too when the captain returns."
"Bento? …he said something…maybe…but I-I wasn't sure…"
Matsumoto stared at the downcast gigai as dreaded realization sank in. "You…didn't buy anything from the store?"
"H-he said a lot of things. I just remembered the first thing…to go home. And the last thing…"
This was bad. On a scale of 1 to 10, where 10 was death by Daiguren Hyourinmaru, this was an 11. Hitsugaya was probably going to freeze all her beauty products. And she'd spent so many hours finding the right brands and shades!
"Hitsugaya-taichou can't know about this. I've got to get dinner!" Matsumoto dashed out the door, suppressing her reiatsu the best she could in hopes Hitsugaya wouldn't sense her and wonder why she'd left the apartment.
Using shunpo to in a last madcap bid to grab dinner from a convenience store on time was, perhaps, not the lofty application its inventors had in mind when they first developed it thousands and thousands of years ago…but this was a matter of life and death (sort of) so Matsumoto thought they'd understand. She'd successfully purchased a few food items and was now making good time on her way back. She hadn't run into Hitsugaya, so he must have headed off in a different direction when he left to cool off. Now that was lucky!
Her phone bleeped. At the same time, around the corner that led into a sidestreet to her right, Matsumoto could sense the telltale malevolent reiatsu of a Hollow. A scream rang out into the night, and streetlamps hummed and flickered erratically. A soul was under attack.
Matsumoto popped the soul candy into her mouth, and felt her spirit form burst free. Turning back to her gigai still holding the bag of bento boxes, she commanded, "Get back to the apartment at once! Set out the food!" Fleetingly, she remembered Hitsugaya's gigai still standing in the living room in the wolfman costume, watching her run out. Did it have the cognizance to finish changing by itself? "And make sure taichou's gigai got the costume off! The ears, the tail, take it all off! And be fast about it!" Her artificial soul was smarter than her taichou's; it could handle such basic instructions, surely. Matsumoto drew her sword and charged into the alley.
The gigai saluted as the Shinigami lieutenant disappeared into the shadows. "Yes, sir, got it! Set out the food and take all the clothes off!"
That was odd. Toshirou frowned at his phone. A Hollow's signature had turned up in the area for a moment, then disappeared. Someone else must have gotten to it already. He thought he might have detected a faint surge of Matsumoto's reiatsu around the same time, though it was hard to tell; the amount she'd need to release for a typical low-level Hollow would be minimal. And it made most sense that Matsumoto would have been the one to dispel it, since the location had been close to Inoue's apartment.
Still, he remembered the last time Matsumoto had run into a supposedly routine Hollow, and wound up with a pseudo-arrancar on her hands. It was better to double-check on her.
Matsumoto wasn't back at the apartment. It looked like he'd been right; she'd gone out to take care of that Hollow. Toshirou consulted his phone again. No other Hollow appearances, no strange new energy signatures. It'd been a simple takedown. Good. He really wasn't in the mood to deal with some new enemy tonight.
Well, it looked like he'd returned to the apartment earlier than he'd intended. And as much as a vindictive part of him wanted to hold onto the anger he'd felt only minutes ago for Matsumoto, he knew it'd been pretty much erased when his phone had gone off, and replaced by the usual concern for her being. No use pretending to stew then. He started searching for his gigai. Had Matsumoto gotten it changed back before she left?
The gigai was in the living room, dressed in his original clothes…but was still bedecked in the fake ears and tail. Apparently, his gikon had forgotten about them. It stared at him dumbly out from the eyes of his gigai. "Welcome back…"
"Oh for the love of…" Toshirou cut himself off and shook his head. It wasn't the soul's fault. Gikon were simple-minded creations that only knew to follow Shinigamis' orders. Since Toshirou hadn't told it expressly NOT to cosplay as a werewolf for Matsumoto, there was no reason for it not to go along with whatever his lieutenant had said.
"Good work," he told the soul, and re-entered his gigai.
There was something savagely satisfying about ripping off the stupid appendages. Toshirou thought about throwing them out, or even burning them…but they were still Matsumoto's possessions. So he just tossed them aside and walked back into the kitchen, looking for dinner and not being really surprised when he couldn't find any signs of food.
He'd told Matsumoto he had real doubts about the gikon's ability to comprehend orders beyond 'guard my body'; that was the purpose for which they'd been fashioned—they weren't meant to be ordered around as slaves to fetch them dinner or run other errands. Honestly, after seeing Matsumoto's gigai seducing the storeowner that other time, he barely trusted leaving the gigais alone in public.
But Matsumoto had been so insistent, and he'd hadn't guessed—he couldn't have guessed—as to her plans. Toshirou felt a surge of anger again at the very thought, the recollection of that welcoming scene when he first set foot into the apartment, as well as the breakout of a rash of goosebumps. Besides the outrageous, really unforgiveable lack of respect, it was downright creepy and violating to see himself, or at least the image of himself, reduced to some idiotic plaything stripped of all dignity and being petted and coddled like a dumb pet. He tried to comfort himself with the fact that the gigai was just a featureless lump of flesh—it wasn't his actual body. It wasn't like he had actually been undressed, then dressed like a doll with no agency of his own…
The door swung open, and Matsumoto burst in, a plastic convenience store bag on her arm. She was breathing hard, obviously from having run all the way from wherever she came from.
…wait, that wasn't Matsumoto's reiatsu. This was her gigai. She'd sent her gigai to fetch dinner. Unbelievable. Hadn't she learned not to use them like pawns yets? They just weren't sophisticated enough for it…
The fake Matsumoto took one look at him, threw her bag of presumed dinner items on the counter, ran up to him, and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. "This won't do!" She had a weird, determined glint in her eyes. "I'm sorry for the imposition, Hitsugaya-sama, but the clothes have to come off!" She gave a hard tug upwards.
"What?" The shirt actually made it over his head before he realized what was happening, but he managed to pull it back and out of the gigai's reach. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"It's Matsumoto-sama's orders," the gigai responded. She had a deep, strangely lilting voice that was entirely unlike Matsumoto's lighter and faster speech patterns. "She said I should make sure all your clothes are off."
Dear god, what fresh hell was this? His mind was going into stroke-mode again. "That's idiotic. There must be some mistake."
"Those were her orders." The gigai shrugged, then suddenly lunged at his crotch. "Please, don't hold it against me, Hitsugaya-sama." She had him by the belt, and she was trying to pull down his zipper—a much more difficult task since he had a firm death-grip over the slider. He stepped backwards, dragging the gigai on her knees across the carpet and undoubtedly giving her a bad rug burn, but she hung on like a rabid pitbull.
"I'm telling you, let go of me." He wanted to just shove or kick her off, but he loathed resorting to physical force. Especially when there'd probably just been some sort of misunderstanding, and he was the substantially stronger party and therefore responsible for not abusing his power. The soul was just acting on orders the best it could, it didn't deserve to get beat up for that.
Not to mention, striking out meant seeing Matsumoto's face crumpling in an expression of pain. It was sort of ironic, given how many times he'd wished bodily harm on her in the past (or even the last half hour), but really, who was he trying to fool? The thought of seriously raising his hand against Matsumoto made his stomach twist. Even when it wasn't her in the goddamned fake body with a goddamned artificially created soul inhabiting it.
I am an idiot. "Let go," he repeated, trying to sound commanding and angry, but it came out rather devoid of any emotional inflections, because he was still in shock. In what time and circumstances in what corners of the world in what fair and rational universe would this ever be construed as a logical progression of events that he should readily accept? As always, when Matsumoto had had a hand in the matter, he came up empty for answers.
"Please cooperate, Hitsugaya-sama." The gigai looked up and made a happy humming noise. Its mouth crept into a smile that actually somewhat resembled Matsumoto's when she was about to push some cushiony part of her body onto some part of his. "It's not so bad, is it? I'm kind of happy, this is the sort of stuff I'd like to do more often. Physical bodily contact is what it's all about, isn't it? It's nice, isn't it? I can make it feel good for you too, Hitsugaya-sama~"
He'd forgotten. This was that horny, perverted soul model. Despite himself and all attempts to maintain his composure, he felt goosebumps break out over his neck and arms. He'd been at the receiving end of all sorts of unpleasant looks as he grew up in Soul Society—fear, disdain, jealousy—but he'd never really been leered at. And to think Matsumoto dealt with such looks on a regular basis. His admiration for her went up a notch.
Of course, the artificial soul knew better than to really try anything with him. Unlike with the misfortunate and unknowing store keeper, there would be real repercussions if it forgot its place. At the same time, it couldn't seem to suppress its programmed nature, and kept pawing at him with that sly, conspiratorial look at him like they were in on some intimate secret together, and it was just waiting for him to admit it. It was altogether too much like some of his other dealings with Matsumoto—and yet not, because the soul had its own odd way of speaking and doltish mannerisms that transformed Matsumoto's face and body into something almost alien to him.
He grit his teeth and prepared to bite the bullet and shove the gigai back hard when he felt Matsumoto's reiastu manifest in the apartment.
"Taichou, I'm back and I—GAH!"
Good. The juvenile and petty part of him felt a rush of smug satisfaction upon hearing his lieutenant's shriek. Now she knew how it felt to come home after fighting Hollows, ready to relax and call it a day, and then have to deal with this sort of bullshit. Also, it was a bit of a relief to know she had not in fact commanded the soul to take off his clothes. He'd been ninety-nine percent certain it couldn't have been the case…but with Matsumoto, you never knew.
"Taichou! What are you doing?!" Matsumoto ran over and hurled her gigai off him with the total unreservation of strength he himself had been unable to summon. Toshirou relaxed and reached to straighten his clothes out, but he'd only had half a second to himself before his lieutenant was back in his face, having also re-entered her gigai, exclaiming, "Taichou, you're so cruel! If you wanted my splendid body, why didn't you just say something? You didn't have to go around my back and play with my gigai instead!" She pushed on either side of her breasts, smushing them together dangerously close to his face.
"Don't put me on the same level as you…and don't rub your breasts at me! Your gikon told me you gave it orders to take my clothes off!"
"Oh…well, hmm…" Matsumoto stood back up and contemplated. "…I guess that's true. Ah! But that was regarding the wolfman costume. You were right about your gikon, you know taichou, he's not very bright. So I didn't want him to still be sitting around in that outfit when you came back. That's what that was all about, taichou! I was thinking about you and trying to be considerate, see?"
So that was how things got turned around. Matsumoto's explanation made sense…but it was too little too late after all the indignities he'd suffered tonight. Plus… "If you'd actually been doing any thinking, my gigai wouldn't have been in that ludicrous costume in the first place!"
A random memory crazily occurred to Toshirou from a few years back when Hinamori had suggested he keep a diary. Aizen apparently had one he wrote in every night and probably practiced his calligraphy in, and it was a wonderful way to remember what you'd done each day and preserve your most cherished memories, she'd said, it was such a refined thing to do!
What she'd failed to take into account, innocent and optimistic girl that she was, was that some people didn't get to live nice idyllic lives like Aizen. Some people didn't want to remember what they'd done each day because their days involved wearing werewolf costumes or fighting to keep their clothes from being shucked off. That was the sort of garbage that would fill Toshirou's hypothetical diary pages. That was the sort of life he lived.
No, there'd be no preservation of "cherished" memories here—not for Toshirou. It would be a phenomenally poor move regarding his mental health if he kept track of all the disgraceful fiascos Matsumoto subjected him to. The only way to continue to function both as a Shinigami captain and as a fundamentally sane soul was to just jettison all this nonsense out of his brain. Pretend it never happened, as he'd told Matsumoto earlier before he'd left the apartment. He'd gotten pretty good at it too, after all these years. Granted, this was a particularly monumental night in terms of imbecility—a real idiocy extravaganza, if you will—but it'd be no more than a bad dream after a good night's sleep tonight.
It was time to move on. "At least I saw your gigai bring back some convenience store bags. I take it that's our dinner?"
"Taichou! Don't be so cold!" Matsumoto bent over again to drape her arms in a loose hug over his shoulders. The familiar, brazen heat of her body seeped into his back. She was always way too warm for his liking, but he had neither energy nor desire to try and get away. After having the strange soul touching him all over, it felt good to be in contact with her reiatsu again. To feel her body with her actually in it again. Glaring up at his lieutenant's sunny face, Toshirou thought rather grimly that Matsumoto had also gotten pretty good at aiding him when it came to forgiving and forgetting her stupid stunts.
Some part of him might even want to reach out and kiss her.
Ugh, where had that come from? It was a strange, totally uncalled for urge. It had come over him a few times over the last week, in higher frequency—a sporadic impulse that he couldn't explain. Maybe it was a matter of habit; they ended up kissing half the time she got so close to him, he'd subconsciously associated her proximity with that act of intimacy. Or maybe it was frustration seeking some outlet; kissing her was at least one of the few ways he got her to shut up and act a little more serious. Either way, it was moronic, and he wasn't about to indulge in it.
"You know I'm more than happy to attend to your needs, don't you, taichou? You shouldn't look at other women." Matsumoto drew closer as she prattled on. Her light blue eyes were dancing, bright and carefree. She knew his anger was fizzling out.
"It was your gigai. Technically, I was looking at you."
"I suppose that's true. But, taichou, that wasn't me in the gigai, you know. A woman is more than just her body. Or do you have no interest in my gifted mind and personality?" It was inexplicable, the way her words riled him up, but her cheerfully animated voice soothed him at the same time. He felt like a cat having its fur petted in alternate directions, against the grain one minute, then along it the next.
"Of course I know it wasn't you. This whole shameful mess wouldn't have happened if it was you who returned. But no, you opted to send an artificial soul that you'd have better realized by now lacks the ability to interpret orders requiring context and can only follow them rigidly. Things would have been completely different if you'd just stayed in your gigai—"
"Ohhh? How different, taichou?" Matsumoto's eyes lit up.
"Very different." He glowered at her, refusing to walk himself further into a verbal trap. Of course, the trap had been set and there was no freeing himself—but Matsumoto would have to drag him kicking and screaming in herself.
"Say, taichou, if it was me, would you have let me finish my orders to undress you?"
"We just established those weren't your real orders, so your question is a moot point."
"But would you?" Matsumoto pressed, smiling widely now. She had slithered around him from back to front like some soft, full-figured, nice-smelling snake and was slowly lowering herself to her knees, her long fingers slipping down his chest to his waist. Her pink nails lightly scratched against the fabric of his shirt.
And just like that, he was caught.
"No." The sad part was, he didn't even know if he was lying or not. Matsumoto was too good at getting her way. Just look at what had already transpired tonight.
"That's so mean, taichou! Are you sure?" Matsumoto was now in almost exactly the same position that her gikon had been in only a few minutes ago. He really didn't like her in that position. "I think we should have a practice run." She reached for his zipper.
Seriously? We're doing this AGAIN? He grabbed both her hands in his. He hadn't wanted to touch the gikon much, but he had no trouble now with Matsumoto. "Matsumoto…"
Matsumoto laughed, lightly—the laugh that made him stop and look at her because of the pure joy audible in it at the same time it made his stomach plummet because he knew the joy was from having him right where she wanted him. Then she leaned forward and he felt a pop below. His pants loosened and he felt his jaw drop. Matsumoto looked back up with his top pants button between her teeth. Still wide-eyed and innocent. "Yes, taichou?"
Bad. This was very bad. Sexy, yes—he wasn't an idiot, he knew sexiness when it was practically breathing on his genitals—but also oh so very bad. He hadn't anticipated her using her mouth. No doubt Matsumoto was laughing at his naiveté, but where and when exactly was he supposed to have picked up on the proper techniques for fending off a woman resolved to take off his pants? Especially if that woman had zero shame and zero sense of propriety?
Toshirou knew he was probably thinking like a prude or an old man stuck in his outdated ways, and he didn't care. He could barely look at himself in the mirror after some of their heavier makeout sessions, and now Matsumoto was nuzzling and mouthing at his privates separated only by a few thin layers of fabric in the middle of the kitchen with all the lights turned on them like searchlights honing down depraved criminals. Part of him was sure that any minute now the police would be breaking down the door with an arrest warrant for all perverts on the premises. Besides, as old-fashioned as he knew he was, he didn't think his reaction was so abnormal. He'd seen Abarai and even Kurosaki's reaction when Matsumoto had pretended to strip for the substitute Shinigami in exchange for a place to stay—they'd totally freaked out. And that was just from a little teasing. Oh, and then there was Hisagi who obviously had a thing for Matsumoto, but seemed only capable of expressing it in doing menial tasks for her or suddenly hemorrhaging out of his nostrils. Compared to them, he was a master—a virtuoso, an ace wizard—at putting up with Matsumoto's shit, and he really didn't think he was out of line at all for not wanting to disrobe in the middle of the kitchen before they'd even had dinner. There was a time and place for everything damn it. You don't do bedroom things in the kitchen—Inoue's furniture had suffered enough from the last time they'd broken that particular rule.
And it was even worse how his brain would forget those rules when Matsumoto started her game of Inappropriate TouchesTM (fun for players of all ages 18 and up!). One minute, it'd be there responsibly keeping track of things…the next minute, it was gone and he was breaking kitchen tables with his reiatsu.
He didn't ever lose complete control, thank the heavens, but it was enough to make him uncomfortable. The whole reason he'd ever become a Shinigami in the first place was to learn how to control himself. Matsumoto, of all people, should understand—being the one who'd first set him on this path. But now, here she was, goading him, trying to awaken something in him. Not just simple physical desire, either—that was achieved by Matsumoto just being her exceptionally attractive self and he'd recognized that for what it was long ago and shrugged it off easily—but something deeper and far more powerful should he give in to it. She wanted him to bare himself completely to her, and the thought of it reminded him of how Hyourinmaru had roared out to him all those nights ago in a whirling tempest of snow and ice and windy darkness for recognition. Responding was a daunting thought.
He could feel the slow flow of outside air into his lower half as Matsumoto slowly brought the zipper down with a bob of her head. He could practically see his brain grabbing its hat off the rack on its way out the door.
He'd been training and patrolling and dealing with Hollows all day. Then he'd come back and had to deal with Matsumoto's gigai debacle. He wasn't really angry about it any more, but his heart rate was still up and his reiatsu in a high-paced flow. He wasn't in the most rested or calmest of states, and Matsumoto knew this. Yet she was provoking him to further lose control. Why could she not see what a bad idea this was? Why did she want him mindlessly rutting into her like an animal purely seeking relief? It was a shallow act to Toshirou if he had no other incentive than his own physical pleasure. Even if Matsumoto didn't mind, or perhaps even desired it—she deserved better than that in his mind.
It was for that reason he hung desperately on to his resolve. "Matsumoto, it's been a long day. I'd like to hurry up and eat—not you," he made sure to clarify when she opened her mouth to chirp in with that hated innuendo. It was most likely he'd never be able to talk his way around her, but he was at least capable of learning from past mistakes.
Matsumoto studied him from where she knelt face-level with his genitals, her warm breath wafting over him with each exhalation. Yet another "cherished memory" that wouldn't be making it into his nonexistent diary. Finally, she shrugged. "Well, if that's what you want, taichou." She sat back on her heels and regarded him with a serene smile. Like she'd only been kneeling on the floor because he'd wanted her to, and she was just helping him out.
"What I want, you say," he repeated in dull anger, "If what I want was ever a factor in your actions, this entire evening wouldn't have happened." He took advantage of the newly developed space between them to re-secure his pants, though the top button was a lost cause. He picked it off the floor where Matsumoto had let it fall out of her mouth, and glared at his lieutenant. "I don't suppose you know how to sew this back on."
"Not at all, taichou!"
"Maybe you should take that into consideration before you take liberties with other people's clothing."
"Ehh, why? If you mess up your clothes, all you have to do is buy new ones!"
"That is not a viable option. That is the most irresponsible attitude I've ever—" He was getting derailed again. "…will you just get off the floor already?"
Matsumoto obligingly climbed back to her feet and brushed herself off. "It's all right, taichou. I know you're tired, so you get a temporary pass." Then she threw him a wink. "Tem-por-rar-y. Just so you know, it means you don't always get to have your way."
"I know what it means," he growled. "And since when do I 'always' get to have my way?!"
"Why, all the time, taichou! Really, I let you off way too easily." Matsumoto sighed dramatically. "Ahh what should I dooo? I'm so nice to my taichou, but he just takes advantage of me. It's a real dilemma for sure." She placed a hand on her cheek in a clearly fake expression of worry.
He waited, unimpressed. "Are you done?"
"Yes, taichou!" She clapped happily. "Let's go eat!"
After what seemed like an eternity since he'd first returned from his patrol but hadn't been more than half an hour in reality, they finally got over to the convenience store bag and started laying out the bentos.
"By the way, taichou, what's that you've got in your pocket?"
"My pocket?" For a moment, he thought this was another stupid stunt, but Matsumoto's expression was of genuine curiosity as she pointed one finger at his right pants pocket while munching on an onigiri in her mouth with the other hand.
"Mm, I felt something in there when I was trying to take your pants off," she explained (as if such explanations were the norm in casual conversation).
In all the commotion, he'd barely adjusted to the sensation of re-entering his gigai. But now that Matsumoto had drawn attention to it, he realized there was an unfamiliar weight there pressing against his upper thigh. He reached in and his hand closed on smooth paper wrapped around a small rectangular object. He brought it out so they could both examine what lay in his palm.
It was a chocolate bar.
"Taichou, this…" Matsumoto spoke slowly. "…is this for me? The…chocolate I asked for?"
"I…" He stared at the chocolate in his palm, totally taken by surprise. "It's true, I told the soul to buy some chocolate, but why would it remember only this one order and not the bentos?"
"Hmm, could it be that it knew the chocolate was the most important to you, taichou?" Matsumoto was instantly teasing him again. "He knew what you really cared about was making me feel loved. Ah! Does this mean there are roses in your other pocket?!"
"I didn't tell him to buy roses." He glared at her. "He'd have to go to a flower shop for them, and they're expensive."
"That's so mean, taichou! I'm not worth even a few flowers to you?"
"I hadn't intended on obliging you at all, but then I thought since there was chocolate at the stores anyway…" He shook his head, irritated at having to admit he'd given her stupid request any serious consideration. "But then, why only buy the chocolate?" Gikons worked in strange ways, it would seem. He'd never thought of them as much more than tools in any Shinigami's arsenal, but perhaps there was something to be gleaned from gaining better understanding towards how the artificial souls thought.
Matsumoto appeared to be thinking hard about something of her own. "Was getting the chocolates, by any chance, the last instructions you gave it?"
"Huh? Yeah, I guess it was."
"Well, that's what it is, taichou!"
"What is?"
"It told me when it came back that it focused on the first and last things you told it. I'm guessing it figured those had to be the most important orders. The first thing you said was to go back to the apartment because I wanted your gigai. And the last thing, as you said, was the chocolates." Matsumoto plucked the chocolate out of his hand and held it up to her face so it covered her nose and mouth (which was undoubtedly grinning devilishly) and all he could see were her twinkling eyes. "Thank you so much, taichou! But…chocolate? This is so sentimental of you! Ahh, it's too romantic, I'm not sure, can I even accept such a gift?"
"If you don't want it, I'll take it back."
"Don't be stingy, taichou! And next time, don't forget the roses."
"I told you, I never intended on getting you roses."
"They say red ones are the most romantic, but since we're still at an early stage of our relationship, you shouldn't go too overboard. Pink would do nicely, I think."
"I said, I'M NOT GETTING YOU ROSES!"