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rinusagitora · 7 months ago

Text

I've turned like sour milk.

Fandom: Bleach Characters; Karin Kurosaki, Toushirou Hitsugaya, Momo Hinamori, Shunsui Kyouraku, Shinji Hirako, Lisa Yadomaru, Roujuurou Outoribashi, Rangiku Matsumoto, Izuru Kira, Shuuhei Hisagi, Renji Abarai Pairings: HitsuKarin-centric, mentions of RenShuuKiraHina, Rannao, ShinRose, & ShunUki Words: 4.2k Summary: Karin's dead now like she's always wanted. She's lucky enough to be housed by Momo and her spouses, but her troubles are far from over. Warnings: References of suicide & self-injury AO3: works/54973525 A/N: Written for HitsuKarin Week 2024.

Karin left the World of the Living wearing shorts and a tank top, barefoot having left her shoes on the bridge. Now she wears a white kimono, folded over like she's a corpse. She can't stop fiddling with the sleeves. She isn't used to their bell-shape. She isn't used to the fabric.

They trek through Ichibantai. The division is, more or less, what Karin expected it to be: antiquated. The floorboards squeal while Momo and Toushirou guide her towards the soutaichou's office. The building is a labyrinth, almost dreamlike. Evergreens cast shadows on the walls no matter where they are or how deep they venture. It's unnerving.

She knows this plane is but a graveyard. The overwhelming majority of the people here have died and carry that horror with them and it shows. Toushirou is now a century old. He still remembers the Russo-Japanese War and cholera. He got misty-eyed when she cracked a joke that he died on the can, and she's never felt as much of an awful person since, even after they made up. Naturally, the plane in which these people reside reflects the dawning of mortality, especially at night when the veil is thinnest. The knowledge of this doesn't keep the most primal parts of her from bristling.

They pause in front of a massive, carved door. Momo repacks her tobacco pipe, lights it with a spark from her snapping fingers. She takes a deep breath and knocks.

Shunsui is not what Karin expected. He opens the door, fixing a lively kimono over his shoulders.

"Hello. Thank you for meeting me at this time," he says. She smells sake on his breath. Her heart pounds. There's an odd emittance from him. Everyone has an aura. Toushirou's aura provokes the image of a dragon coiled around a snow-capped mountain. An icy exterior with a longing for stability found in authority. Momo's is a balefire in a meadow, or pushing around chicken in search of divination. Shunsui's aura is harder to peg. It's like a jack-in-the-box, if the puppet on the spring was a live snake. He is not the facade he dons.

"Soutaichou," Momo says. The three bow in unison. "Thank you for your accommodations. I understand it's after hours, but I presume you understand why I'd like to get this finished sooner rather than later."

Shunsui steps aside and they enter the office. The rice paper doors are open to a manicured stone garden. It's warm, despite it being late spring now, and she sees a kotatsu and a fire going in the pit.

They take a seat around the kotatsu. Karin's legs ache the second she assumes seiza. The way Shunsui lounges makes her think they're being too formal, or that he loves seeing others prostrate.

"I'm sure you all understand these are most unusual circumstances," Shunsui says.

Momo smiles. "Is anything to do with the Kurosaki usual?"

Shunsui hums. He pours four glasses of sake. "Neither of you were present for Kuchiki's execution, but Kurosaki gave us the opportunity to save her from the execution and bring light to Sousuke's crimes. I can appreciate disruption."

He slides sake glasses over to them. Karin gingerly takes her cup and sips. It burns. This is far from her first taste of liquor, but it's strong shit. She's fuzzy the second it hits her belly.

"Kurosaki-chan," Shunsui says. His cup touches his lips. "What were the circumstances of your death?"

Toushirou chimes, "She--"

Shunsui's hand lifts to stop him. "I want to hear it from her."

She's staring into the eyes of a nasty spirit while they drink. Her throat will be slit if her gaze averts.

There's a dozen reasons why she drowned herself, each worse than the last, and increasingly private. She's never been good at politics. Even with the Gotei's multiple life debts to Ichigo, she's certain whatever she says will be held against her.

Karin gnaws on her lip and says, "This is all I've wanted."

"To die?" Shunsui says.

"No. To become a shinigami."

He chuckles. "But a short eighty years, and I'm sure you would've accomplished it."

"Eighty years of bumping into things isn't a life," she argues. "I'm sure you've seen my work, Soutaichou. It's all I want."

"Being a shinigami isn't all about exorcism," he says.

"I know. Toushi-- Hitsugaya-taichou is secretive, but he tells me there's a lot of paperwork no matter where you go."

"You've wanted this for a short... what? Five? Six years?" You understand we live forever unless we're killed or starve, right? Eons of fighting. Of dreary paperwork. Of the world ending. Over and over again."

Karin's heart pounds. She wishes it was dread. Instead, it's the thrill of a roller coaster. Of a promise. Of fresh love.

"May I ask a question, Soutaichou?" Karin says. He waves as permission. "In your years as a shinigami, have you been unfulfilled?" Shunsui is quiet. "My issue isn't as simple as disliking school. Even when my grades were okay, I'd look around what I could do with those skills, and all of it just seemed like a chore. Nursing was fulfilling, but I never had the bedside manner for it. The times I've battled hollows, and the times I've worked with your officers, have been the only times my skin has fit right.

Karin slides her cup onto the tabletop. "You ask why I killed myself. I couldn't go on, day after day, in skin that fit wrong."

"You're so much like your brother." Shunsui sips. "You've always done what's right for you."

Karin frowns. "Is that--"

Toushirou interrupts with, "That isn't an inherently bad quality, Soutaichou. Ichigo Kurosaki and his companions took out over half of our biggest threats for the Winter War during their excursion to Hueco Mundo. I'm confident our losses would've significantly increased if we faced the full force of Aizen's Court." He sips. "She has just as much to offer, and without Kurosaki's shortcomings."

Shunsui's gaze drinks her in. "Then what are your shortcomings, dear?"

Karin swallows. She isn't sure what else to do other than tell the truth. "I'm not always good at listening to authority. I have a temper as well," she replies.

"A temper?" Shunsui reiterates.

Momo scoffs. A cloud of tobacco billows around her face, and she says, while ashing her pipe into a ceramic tray, "All due respect, Soutaichou, our own have far more dangerous tempers. Is it not Mayuri Kurotsuchi-taichou who beat his lieutenant and daughter up until her demise during the Wandenreich invasion?"

"Kurotsuchi-taichou's usefulness is undisputed."

"That's exactly what I mean. Whatever shortcomings Karin has are a fraction of what we have in our uppermost echelon presently. You yourself acknowledge that acting against authority isn't inherently bad. Was it not you and the late Ukitake-taichou who rebelled against Central Forty-Six and your predecessor's orders for Rukia's execution? Do our present captains not have destructive tempers? Were we not founded on slaughter?"

Shunsui taps his cup with his finger. "I see now why you are so special to Nanao."

"I was given lucidity once Sousuke's influence was erased. She values that."

Shunsui leans back on his palm. "My niece has lived a thousand years and accrued wisdom of the ages for it. You have been the only one to share that, and at an infinitesimal age. Your input is one of the few I can take at face value."

There's a wave of indignity from Toushirou that Karin chooses to ignore for now. He's always butthurt when people aren't falling over his prodigal skills.

Shunsui stands and they stand with him. He circles the kotatsu and meets Karin. "It would be an honor to have you as our own, Kurosaki-chan. Once the exams open, you'll take an aptitude test, and your education at Shin'oureijutsuin will begin.

Karin smiles and bows. She can't believe this shit worked. "Karin is fine, Soutaichou. Thank you."

Shunsui bows, and they bow afterward. "Best of luck to you all. Good night."

Karin follows Momo and Toushirou into the night. He grabs her hand. She's fuzzy from booze, but optimistic.

"Well, that went spectacularly," Momo sighs. She takes a moment to puff from her pipe. "Now that that's done, let's go make merriment. Supper should be ready, don't you think?"

Toushirou sighs. "I'm just glad Muguruma's cooking skills are rubbing off on Hisagi."

"He's always been a good cook, you're just spoiled by Obaa-san's cooking."

"Yeah, yeah..."

Karin's heard a fair amount of Momo's husbands from Toushirou. He doesn't seem to get along with them, but tells her their relationship was more strained a few years ago, before the wedding. She's having trouble recalling any of their names, but knows one of them is a close friend of both Ichigo and Rukia, which is bad news for Karin. Ichigo's friends always seem to take his side. They always seem content squashing her under his heel.

Where else can she go, though? She isn't ready to move in with Toushirou so soon. As much as she loves him, she's filled with foulness. She isn't sure he can survive much more of her insanity. Of her self-destruction. God knows killing herself isn't the end of it. Wounds still fester within her.

Momo and her husbands reside in a classical double-decker with a garden and a spacious engawa. She hears ducks nearby and there are potent, joyous waves from within, wafting over her with the sound of laughter. It makes her chest ache.

Momo opens the door to a long entryway where their sandals are shed. "Toushirou, go ahead and meet the party. I'm going to get Karin out of those clothes."

"Alright. See you in a minute," Toushirou says to Momo. He turns to Karin and kisses her cheek. Karin smiles while fiddling with her sleeves. "You too."

Momo takes her past a remarkably open and modern living area, up a set of stairs, through a hallway lit by magical lights, and into a bedroom. She opens a closet brimming with bedding and boxes, and pries one from the neat pile, briefly opening it, and frowns. "Ugh, I might have to loan you something of Shuuhei's. You're much... flesh-ier than I am."

That's one way of putting it. Karin isn't tall. Taller than Momo, but it isn't terribly uncommon for anyone to be taller than Momo. The issue is she's as endowed as an hourglass. Her breasts are large, her hips are wide, and her arms and legs are as thick as the haunches of a horse. This has been a deliberate effort, of course. Karin loves nothing more than to be the image of power. But it does spell difficulty when she needs to borrow clothes from others. When Jinta and Ururu would take her home, each of them covered in the blood of hollows, the only one she could dream of fitting into was Tessai's drawstring pajamas while her clothes were in the wash.

Momo does find a suitable kimono. It's sleeveless and slate blue. Momo removes it from the box in search of an obi, and scoffs when she doesn't find one. "Ugh, I'm sorry. My husband wears... unique accessories at home. Let me grab an obi from my uniform to affix it, dear."

Karin pulls apart the obi holding the kyoukatabira she wears, sheds the rest she wears, and dresses in a loin cloth and the yukata. Momo finds a belt to shut it. It's clear these clothes were made for someone with a much flatter chest than her own. In order to keep the hem even, Karin keeps the collar open. She wishes she had tape to prevent a wardrobe malfunction. But ultimately it is workable.

Momo smooths the fabric over Karin's shoulders. "We'll get you some clothes soon, dear. This will have to do tonight, though," Momo says. "Are you okay to go downstairs now?"

"Better now than never."

They descend the stairs and Karin is taken to a large dining area brimming with jovial atmosphere. She hears laughter and smells hot food. The rice doors are open to a garden with a pond and something like four ducks. There are so many people here. At least a dozen. Karin recognizes Rangiku, and there's a redhead built like a brickhouse that Karin is certain she's seen around Karakura. He's likely Ichigo's friend.

Upon seeing Momo and Karin, the attendees lift their glasses and shout, "Banzai!"

Momo smiles and they take their seats. "This is a spectacular turnout for a last minute gathering," Momo says. Karin crosses her legs on the floor. "Thank you all for coming. You're our dearest friends, and I hope that our ward will find friendship among you all."

Karin bows from her seated position. "Thank you all for having me."

Rangiku laughs and waves her hand dismissively. "Oh, you're too formal! This is a party, isn't it?"

Toushirou reaches over with a cigarette. She takes one in her lips and takes a drag once he lights it. A scrawny blond man, simply swimming in a shinigami uniform, shovels various dishes and two drumsticks from a fat turkey onto her plate. Karin thanks him, noting the gold wedding band against his gray skin. His reiatsu is a weird piecemeal of misery and something like four others. It's weird. Karin is curious, but doesn't have the opportunity to ask about it when Rangiku asks,

"Well, Karin-chan, how are you feeling? Death treating you well?"

Karin isn't sure whether or not Rangiku knows that Karin committed suicide. She chooses not to broach the subject. "In truth, it's a lot to take in all at once. I'm fortunate to have Toushirou and Momo as guides."

"That you are," another blond man chimes. He walks over, shooing Toushirou to sit behind her, and sticks his hand out. "Shinji Hirako, captain of gobantai. Pleasure to meet you."

Karin delicately shakes his hand. "Likewise."

"So, we got a Kurosaki here permanently. What plans do you have?" Shinji asks.

"I imagine similar goals you had as a cadet. I'm here to become a shinigami."

"Yes, but why? What are you looking to get out of this?"

"Mah, Shinji, leave the poor thing alone," a bespectacled woman says. "It's her first night here. At least let her eat."

Karin picks up a drumstick as Momo giggles. Shinji sticks out his tongue at her. "Ever an ally, Yadomaru-taichou."

"You live with him long enough and learn to to equip some balls." The woman slides over. "I'm Lisa Yadomaru, captain of hachibantai... ignore Shinji's curiosity, he's always looking to get something."

Karin hums while she chews chicken. It's practically melting in her mouth. "It's a reasonable question. Soutaichou wanted to know the same."

"A reasonable question with more appropriate timing," Lisa says. Karin sees Toushirou and Shinji wrestling for the seat next to Karin in her peripheral. "Why don't you tell us about yourself first?"

She shrugs. "There isn't much to know about me. I hunt hollows. I used to play soccer. Toushirou and I have been dating awhile." The rest of it is too painful to talk about right now. Later. If ever.

Lisa chuckles. "Yeah, there's nothing quite like the field. It's a pity I must spend most of my time behind a desk."

"Oh, I understand my time will likely be spent the same way."

"Well, thankfully, this place is... a bit of a behavioral sink. There's a lot of us, there isn't always a lot to do, and so you'll have plenty of debauchery to engage in." Lisa sips sake. "Are you queer, Karin?"

Karin blinks. "That's quite a segueway."

"I promise it's related," Lisa says while Momo giggles.

"Well... yes. I'm a woman. I'm not particularly picky about my partners, so long as, um... well, so long as I'm topping if that makes sense." Karin smiles bashfully. She hasn't really talked about her sexuality with anyone but Jinta, Toushirou, and Ururu. It feels different. "I like more effeminate people, though."

Lisa says, "Ugh, yeah, those femmes have me by the belt at all times. Anyway: conservatism is prominent here, but most of us here are queer in some facet."

Toushirou finally wins back his seat. "Yeah, I've noticed the same. I mean, wasn't it Hirako and Outoribashi who married first of... er, for lack of a better word, the group?"

"Yes. Point being, you'll have your fill of whatever your poison may be. And if you get into my division, there's plenty to go around," Lisa says, winking.

Rangiku chuckles. "Oh, stop trying to play matchmaker for Yayahara-chan. She does just fine on her own," Momo says.

"None of you guys are any fun," Lisa whines.

Karin asks, "Who else is here?"

"Oh, dear, there's many," Momo says. "Here we go. You've met Rangiku-san, Shinji Hirako-taichou, and Lisa Yadomaru-taichou--"

"Yadomaru-san is fine," Lisa says. Karin nods.

"My spouses are Renji, Shuuhei, and Izuru," Momo says, pointing each of them out. Renji and Izuru, Izuru being the one who served her food earlier and Renji being the redhead she recognizes, are sitting with a carafe and another very large man that Karin is fairly cerain is either yakuza or bousouzoku judging by his cartoonishly large pompadour. Shuuhei is fitting over a pork bun with a lithe, green-haired woman. "The man with Renji and Izuru is Tetsuzaemon Iba-taichou. He's a dear friend of ours." Rangiku snorts and Momo glares at her. Karin's eyebrow cocks but she doesn't have further time to inquire. "Shuuhei is sitting with his co-lieutenant Mashiro Kuna. Their captain is the short, white-haired man sitting next to them, Kensei Muguruma-taichou. At the end of the table are Roujuurou Outoribashi-taichou, Izuru's captain, and Nanao Ise, my longtime friend, Rangiku's wife, and the Soutaichou's lieutenant."

The sheer amount of people here is a little overwhelming, and it's worse feeling what all of them feel. The longer she stays here, drinking in the infectious jubilation, the more she wishes she was alone. She only just suffered the grief of a couple dozen people; the ire of Ichigo and Yuzu, the confliction of her best friends. One would expect this feast would be a welcome departure from the last couple of days but it's all too much. Karin would rather have some time to process and to wallow.

The likelihood of her retreat is a different issue. Momo and her spouses were kind enough to offer their home as lodging. It would be incredibly rude to snub their efforts with her escape.

Roujuurou makes his way over, sitting behind Karin. She scoots herself around and bows to him.

"Hello and welcome to the Seireitei, Kurosaki-san," he says.

"Karin is fine," she replies. Roujuurou smiles.

"Your brother was our ally, and we, the Vizard, owe him. We owe you by extension," Roujuurou explains. Karin tries to brush off her brother's mention. "I am captain of sanbantai. Anything you need, I'll do what I can to provide. I know the same can be said for my husband Shinji."

Karin wants to say she doesn't want her brother's debts. Instead, she asks, "Vizard?"

He hums. Lisa says, "We're kind of like a hybrid of shinigami and hollow. We're not arrancar. Arrancar are... um... sourced from hollows. We were, and are, shinigami with hollows inside of us. Your brother is the same way."

"Well, it's more complicated than that according to Urahara, but yes," Roujuurou says.

"You know Urahara and Tsukabishi?" Karin asks.

"We were exiled with them after Aizen's experiment on us failed," Lisa explains.

"Well, yes, but it's more accurate to say they sacrificed their comfort to save us," Roujuurou says. "We would've been executed, or worse, if they hadn't ran with us."

Karin hums. "They are especially popular."

"More like infamous," Toushirou quips.

Roujuurou stands. "It was good meeting you, Karin. Take care. Again, my offer is indefinite. Whatever you made need."

Karin bows as he leaves. Toushirou squeezes her thigh, and she shoos him off. He leaks hurt.

"I'm going to fetch my husbands so they can introduce themselves as well," Momo says, standing. "Toushirou, could you fetch more sake?"

"Um, yeah, sure," he says.

Karin swigs a drink in her moment of privacy before standing to meet Momo's spouses Izuru, Renji, and Shuuhei. They're all much taller than she, even Izuru, who is simply swimming in his uniform.

"Karin, these are Izuru, Renji, and Shuuhei," Momo says. Renji nods to her.

"Hi," Karin says. She bow politely. "Thank you for having me."

"Welcome, Kurosaki," Renji says. He claps her on the arm and she winces. His slap doesn't sting as much as the name.

"Karin is fine," she says.

"Y'know, I didn't recognize you at first," Renji says, "you've grown up a lot."

"Yeah," she agrees.

"More importantly, what was it like living with Ichigo Kurosaki?" Shuuhei asks.

Momo says, "Let's leave those questions for a later time." Momo rubs Karin's back. "Do you have any questions for them, Karin-chan?"

Karin glances between them, opening and closing her mouth like a fish. She wants to ask why Izuru is comprised of something like four different reiatsu, ask how well Renji knows Ichigo, why Shuuhei is interested in her brother, but it all locks up in her throat. It embarrasses her. Normally, Karin is assertive and fearless, but she's tired now. Everything feels like a damn landmine.

"Naw," she says, "I think we'll get to know each other along the way."

Karin sits through another two hours of questions she doesn't have answers to, conversational topics of varying interest, and exorbitant alcohol consumption. By the point in which party-goers are peetering out, she's seeing triple and wobbling.

At least she's numb.

She does have the wherewithal to help with cleanup.

She wrings out a rag in the sink. Momo squawks, "It's your special night! It's like your birthday. Birthday girls don't do the cleaning!"

Izuru snorts. "You're always cleaning up after your birthday," he says. Momo's glare could very well have cut him, judging by how quickly he escapes the kitchen.

Karin unrolls the rag. "I's fine," she slurs, "leas' I shoul'do."

Momo sighs. "Karin-chan, I'm grateful for your help, but you need to lay down."

"Naw," she insists, brushing past Momo and tripping on her foot. She catches herself in the doorframe. Thankfully, she doesn't have the means for shame just yet. She'll leave it for the morning.

Momo sighs. "I'll have Toushirou take you to your room. Shuuhei had it made earlier today."

Karin hums. She looks at her hand and the rag's gone. Momo has it flung over her shoulder and it occurs to her just how sloshed she is.

"Yeah, okay," Karin replies.

Momo whistles and Toushirou makes his way down the hall with an armful of dishes. Momo takes them, kisses his head, and Toushirou wraps Karin in a hug. He kisses her. It twists a knife in her chest she's only now aware of.

It's a chore getting upstairs. He has to drag her up because her feet aren't working, and it brings tears to Karin's eyes. Embarrassment, namely.

She doesn't know if she can do this with him anymore. This isn't any different than the times he's held her in the shower while rinsing off the blood from her wrists.

She's laid on her futon, hugs his shoulders, and kisses him. His thumb pets her cheek.

Karin sniffs. "Toushirou, I know you can't... I know you can't feel others the way I do, but I'm in a lot of pain now." She wipes her tears away. "I don't know that I can do this now."

Dread washes over him. It's almost enough to make Karin hurl. "What?"

"I think a big piece of me broke when I jumped. All I feel is pain and resentment and... and I think to every time you rushed to my side when I couldn't take it anymore, when I'd gore myself, and I'd feel your pain."

"I don't know what you're trying to say." His voice is shaking.

Karin squeezes her eyes shut. Her tears roll off her temple and into her hair. "I can't do this to you anymore."

He licks his lips. "Are you breaking up with me?"

Karin sobs. She holds him and lays their heads together. "Can you wait for me?"

He sobs. "I don't understand what I did to... to prompt this."

"You're not listening," she says, "I broke, Toushirou, and you've mopped up after me for so long. I can feel when you're in pain. I can't do that to you over and over again when this is supposed to fix me."

He sits back on his legs and runs his hands down his face. Karin props herself on her elbows. There's four of him, coalescing into an image of confusion and hurt, before separating into six spinning, blurry iterations, blurry in her watery eyes.

Toushirou sighs and says, "You've... you've been everything to me for years."

"This is supposed to fix me." She's still in pieces now.

His chest heaves while he licks his lips and pushes his fingers through his hair. "You're drunk." He stands. "Good night, Karin."

He leaves and rips her heart out with him, connective tissue and arteries and all.

Karin muffles herself as she sobs. Rolling onto the bedroll, snot blows onto her hand while she screams into her skin.

She knows better than most that shit gets worse before it gets better. The anguish of it isn't anything she'll get used to.

#bleach #hitsukarin #karin kurosaki #toshiro hitsugaya #hitsukarinweek2024 #shinigami karin au

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rinusagitora · 5 years ago

Text

All that draws us together

Fandom: BLEACH

Characters: Momo Hinamori, Izuru Kira, Rangiku Matsumoto, Shinji Hirako, Nanao Ise, Roujuurou Outoribashi

Pairings: RenShuuKiraHina, Rannao, ShinRose

Words: 15,000+

Summary: Chapter 01. For Bleach Big Bang 2019. Fanart done by @worksbyweeds. WARNINGS--- smut, referenced abusive relationships, referenced self-injury, alcoholism; Momo knows all the ups and downs from life and love, yet she rides it again and again.

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19946449/chapters/47231944

Dreamwidth: N/A

FFN: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13345338/1/All-that-draws-us-together (sfw)

Momo's ears rang, an alarm may as well have gone off with the volume it blared. She couldn’t begin to comprehend even the simplest statements from the reports on her desk thanks to the phantom noise.

Truthfully, she expected no different. Sousuke Aizen was locked away more than two years ago, yet the fog never lifted. Her memories from the academy onwards were a big, ugly smudge only discernible as anxiety, and so much time had passed, Momo couldn’t begin to name the source of her ill feelings. Was it the taint built up inside of her guts? The sensation Sousuke was just beyond one of the thin walls on all sides of her, back to try again?

Izuru Kira sat before her suddenly. The chair he used scraped against the wood floor and the sound nearly made Momo hop out the window.

“Hello,” he greeted as he twirled a coin between his synthetic fingers. Momo never realized how lifeless his eyes were. Could he blink with such dry eyes?

“Hello, Kira-kun.” Momo wondered how long we watched her sweat. “Your arm is surprisingly functional.” She never cared for small talk, but she didn’t want to give away just how brain dead she felt.

“Kurotsuchi isn’t hailed a genius for no reason,” Izuru replied bitterly. Momo wondered if he wished Mayuri Kurotsuchi never resurrected him. The thought made her teary-eyed. Her and Izuru drifted after graduation. Izuru was transferred to another division, Momo moved up the ranks in gobantai, Sousuke’s plan to use them as pawns never kept them close either. But Momo still regarded Izuru as a dear friend. A symbol simpler days where she wasn’t beaten and he wasn’t dead.

“I hope rehabilitation hasn’t been too hard on you,” Momo said.

“No. It’s a part of me as much as my other arm.”

“What brings you here?” Momo supposed that was enough chitchat. She only saw at their lieutenant meetings, but his back was always to her and his shirt didn’t seem so baggy where the hole in his chest was.

Part of her wondered if he yearned for the years before they were broken too, when Izuru screamed how he didn’t want to die, and when her chest didn’t hurt all the damn time.

“I would like to reconnect.” That answered Momo’s question, at least.

“Me too. I owe you an apology anyways.” She owed him many apologies, him and so many other people.

“I owe you one too. But those can be postponed. I would like to take you to dinner tonight, somewhere nice if you didn’t have any plans.”

Momo never had plans. She was a homebody, always stuck in her dark barracks, where she obsessively cleaned everything in sight. Her bruised knees never healed because she scrubbed her floor every evening. She cooked for everyone under the sun and then washed her dishes twice over. She washed her upholstery twice a week because otherwise it smelled too much like Sousuke if she waited any longer. Momo hadn’t even gone out to eat for twenty years because her chest collapsed whenever she ventured away from her usual routine.

But she owed it to Izuru many things many times over. She needed a start somewhere.

“Tonight works fine. Did you have anywhere in mind?”

“We could meet at The Dragon’s Hoard in the North Rukongai. I could also pick you up at your barracks so you won’t have to walk. I made sure to clean the carriage,” Izuru propositioned.

A carriage was awfully flashy. Momo garnered enough attention after Sousuke Aizen defected. What would her squad think if she suddenly paraded around with another man, and one from money, after her tryst with a traitor and her attacks against her allies? Two years was decent time for her, but for some people, two or three years was a blink of an eye. “No need, I prefer walking,” she answered. “Shall I be there around seven tonight?”

“Splendid. I’ll see you then.” Izuru stood and deposited his coin on her desk. “I’ll get out of your hair now, Hinamori. Take care.”

Momo picked up his coin. He bent it into the shape of a heart and Momo’s heart felt like he bent it too.

He missed her, he loved her, and Momo was scared to love again.

---

It was impossible for Momo to sit still after Izuru’s visit. She needed her mentor, father figure, her monster spray.

“Captain!” Momo called outside of the rice paper door to Shinji and Rose’s barracks, “I need to speak with you momentarily, may I come inside?”

“The door is open, Momo-chan.”

"I hope I'm not intruding." Momo bowed as Rose motioned her to the table where he and Shinji sat.

"Not at all. We just finished supper," Rose said. "Shinji spilled some sauce on his clothes but he should be back momentarily. Sit, my dear."

"Thank you."

Shinji returned from the bathroom. "Just a heads up, you don't wanna go in there for awhile. That kimchi lit my ass on fire."

Momo grimaced. "So much for the sauce spill," Rose muttered.

"What's on your mind?" Shinji asked with a beer in his hand. "You look like you've seen a fuckin' ghost."

Momo bashfully glanced away. "I'm going on a date with Izuru Kira in a couple hours. I'm not sure how I feel about it."

"About him, or dating?" Shinji asked. “Two very different things, Momo.”

Momo frowned. She knew she missed Izuru Kira. Was it just their past she missed, or him? Or had Sousuke Aizen scared romance out of her altogether like a proper boogeyman?

"I… don't know," she confessed. "The history between us is enormous. I loved a man who hated me. I miss being a cadet with Izuru and Renji because nothing was complicated or painful. Maybe I don't miss Izuru, maybe I just miss the past we shared."

"Then maybe you aren't ready for dating again, Momo." Shinji took a swift swig. "It's only been a handful of years since you were betrayed by someone you loved and laid down your life for. That's a scar more permanent than the one on your chest."

"But there's no time like the present," Rose argued. "When was the last time you went out with a friend, Momo-chan?"

She didn't remember.

"Look, even if it doesn't work out between you two, you'll have tried. If your friendship survived through decades of abuse, will one failed date really smear that irreparably?"

"What if it does?" Momo asked.

"And what if not going means you lose out on a lifetime of happiness?” Rose took her hands into his own. He was knobby like a bird, but his hands cupped around her put her at ease. Rose's violet eyes glimmered too, the eyes of a man who made the most of a situation where he lost his humanity, was thrown from his home, lived a century in hiding, only to return home and marry the love of his life at the end of the whole endeavor. “Momo-chan, life isn't easy. If you are content with your life now, then by all means, go on alone. But if you want something new, perhaps happier, you should open that door and go on a date with Izuru."

Momo thought she ought to take a page rom Rose's and Shinji's book. Even as cautious as her captain was, the risks he took were calculated and almost always ended in his favor.

"I… I would like to go. I should get ready." Momo bowed her head. "Thank you, Captains. Enjoy the rest of your evening."

Minutes later, Momo stood before her mirror. She stared at her reflection. With foundation and red lipstick, she looked healthier, younger. Like she didn't smoke religiously and slept uninterrupted for eight hours. Of course, it was all a charade. It was a matter of time until her foundation caked around her crows feet and her red lipstick stained her teeth.

She was nervous. Rose's pep talk only lasted so long. It rubbed off like her makeup rubbed off underneath her nails when she scratched her forehead. Momo knew romance was complicated. God knew she wasn't in her prime anymore. Sousuke soiled her, she aged like milk, her voice was gravelly, and foremost, Momo was a traitor. She turned her sword against her family and friends. She turned against Izuru himself. Not exactly someone to lust for.

But she'd be fine, Rose's voice said. Izuru Kira had his own duressed hand in Sousuke's plot. If anyone let bygones be bygones, it was Izuru.

Momo knew that. Fear was irrational though, she didn't know her way out of it.

A knock came from the door. It just about scared Momo out of her skin. The absence of reiatsu was Izuru's new fingerprint, and so she rushed to the door, smoothed her hair, and then as calmly as humanly possible, she opened her door. Izuru wore a brown yukata decorated with cross-hatching. He was handsome, even with a gaunt face. His throat and his hands were sinewy, and when Momo thought back on it, she was always attracted to that. Her own veins scared her but the lifeless blood in him made him look like marble. Immortal, artful. Handsome.

"Hello," she said, "it's good seeing you."

Izuru nodded, and then he held out his arm for her to take. "Shall we be on our way?"

She held the inside of his elbow with her cupped hand. They walked together slowly, sloppily, like they hadn't ever walked together before. It was kind of cute.

"How's this week treated you?" Momo asked.

"Alright." He shrugged. "Rose says life goes on. If I'm stuck with… with this for awhile," Izuru held up his black arm to demonstrate, "there's no harm in making the most of it."

That was the most optimistic view he had in awhile. She was glad Rose was a good influence on him.

"I'm glad. Paperwork is finally starting to let up, too. The cadets are all registered with my division now. There aren't many transfers or promotions either." She hated when she had nothing to do, but less paperwork meant she had more time for her charcoal drawings. There were so many things to do and just not enough time in the day.

"Yes. It's nice. I have a social life back now. I haven't gone out with Renji and Shuuhei until just recently."

"That must be nice." She was a little jealous of Izuru. Momo long abandoned her social life. Once in awhile she met with Rangiku or Nanao, but since Sousuke Aizen's defeat, she had gone out with them once during New Year's. Otherwise she just saw them at work.

"It was therapeutic," Izuru said. Momo gleaned they drank. A lot.

"So," Izuru began, "what about yourself? Other than work, that is."

She smiled. "I'm uninteresting these days. Work, drawing. I wish I had more to offer you but I'm just... tired."

Izuru sympathetically pet her knuckles. "I understand. It's hard, even so long without them."

Her shoulders felt lighter. "I expected to move on like everyone else, despise them-- no, him, that awful excuse for a man; Sousuke Aizen-- the same as the rest, but I can’t bring myself to. And I expected, with him locked away, that I would sleep easily, but I feel more and more hollow each day, like I’m rotting with him."

Izuru squeezed her fist with his black hand. "I've been without sleep for so long now. Now undead, I wish all of my feelings would vanish, but there is this cavernous negativity that spans more than my body. It's taken over my home. It's taken over me."

"I'm glad we can speak about this,” Momo smiled, “it's hard to do when it's anyone else."

"Yes. I'm scared to speak of it to even Rose. It's a solitary life having to keep all of it bottled up." Izuru turned to her. Even with his dried out eyes, he looked emotional, like they ought to sparkle with melancholy. "I'm glad we can talk about it, though. It hurts talking about it, but it hurts more keeping it bottled up."

"Yes."

She didn't realize how she yearned to complain about her own misery. Momo wouldn’t easily shove her ill feelings back down afterwards.

They made their way to a seafood restaurant in the first district. The establishment had grown on Momo over time. Sousuke didn't like seafood, so its purity of his memory made it her foremost choice on the rare occasion that she wasn't in the mood to cook herself.

Izuru sat across from Momo. Momo folded her legs neatly beneath her, smoothed her hair, and then opened her menu.

"I know you mentioned you don't retain your sense of taste anymore," which was unfortunate, "but if you order the fried shrimp, the server puts on this little demonstration for you. There's fire." Momo was partial to anything which happened to explode.

"We'll be sure to check that out then," Izuru said with a hint of a smile. She couldn't remember the last time he smiled in her presence. He looked positively angelic. "How are you getting along with Captain Hirako?"

Momo thought back to Shinji's visits to her while she was in intensive care for the injuries she received from that monster Ayon. Shinji had that monster within his reach, but he was smart enough to keep Sousuke at arm's reach. The damage would've been gargantuan juxtaposed to hollowfication if he was any closer. Everything Sousuke Aizen touched decayed. Later, when Wandenreich invaded, Shinji was always by Momo’s side like a guardian. Shinji understood her, and he chose to ally himself with her.

"Truthfully, I wasn't sure what to expect at first. Withholding my judgement turned out for the better though, so I'm glad that was the case. Hirako-taichou is very much like a father to me. Our leadership styles mesh very well also. He's not micromanaging us, even when we do something wrong. He's more virtuous than myself."

Izuru nodded. "Good."

After they ordered food, Izuru shamelessly asked for sake (she didn't mind so long as he didn't drink himself into a stupor, she supposed) and she picked at their appetizer. Fried food wasn't her favorite since it laid in her stomach like a rock, but she remembered it fondly from years ago. Afterwards their conversation lulled. It had been so long since anyone courted Momo, she was out of practice and strained to think of something to break the silence. Izuru must have been as uncomfortable as she.

"I'm... sorry, Kira-kun. I'm not very good at this."

Izuru shrugged. "We aren't strangers, Hinamori. There isn't a lot of familiarizing we have to do. Maybe catching up, but we can take that slowly. I feel bad about it as well, but... I don't know, part of me wonders if this is a natural part of us dating."

She smiled sympathetically. "Thank you." At least one of them was rational.

"Hinamori, would you humor me and allow me to read your palm?"

"Since when did you read palms?" she asked as she held out her hand.

"A couple years ago, just out of curiosity." He traced the lines of her hand with his rubbery nail. "Your palms say you've experienced much hardship. Your lifeline is short and branches down. This means you feel weakened by certain negative experiences. Your headline is curious. It's mostly fused with your lifeline, and it's wavy and broken. This means you're creative when it comes to problem-solving, but you can be indecisive when you’re under immense stress. Your heartline begins beneath your index finger. This tells me you're comfortable in long-term relationships, and it's significantly deeper and straighter than the rest of the lines in your palm. Your relationships are incredibly important to you but you can be reserved in your relationships."

Momo realized how close Izuru was to her. Was it a parlor trick to distract her from his proximity so he could steal a kiss? How sweet. Momo wouldn't mind a trick like that. The very thought made her smile like a virgin maiden.

"Kira-kun, are you flirting with me?”

“Is it working?”

“Perhaps.”

Their food interrupted their closeness. Upon the fiery presentation, they clapped and Momo clapped so hard her hands stung. The date was splendid! So splendid, she prayed to muster the courage to cross the threshold and sit in Izuru’s lap. Perhaps it made Momo a whore once again, but couldn’t she enjoy the spare attention handsome men paid her?

“Is it good?” Izuru asked.

“The food? It’s delicious.” Momo pushed her plate to Izuru’s end of the table and made her way to his side. She leaned against him and held up fried shrimp to his head. “I know you can’t taste, but humor me?”

Izuru leaned in and gingerly took a bite of her shrimp. His eyes were half lidded. Momo was so close she caught a whiff of medicated lotion. It wasn’t bad, like peppermint. Despite their proximity, he didn’t lean in for a kiss, or hold her waist, he didn’t dare brush their noses together. Was he gentlemanly or nervous?

She felt ashamed enough to want to apologize. Izuru was as soothing as he was painful. It must hurt him too, like his lungs hurt. She could barely breathe like it was as if her lungs were blown out.

"Did... did I say something, Hinamori? You look upset."

Momo’s breath rattled. “This is just hard. It’s hard keeping up with my thoughts. I just know I’m scared and enjoying myself at the same time, and it’s an overwhelming combination. I want to do the right thing for… you, for us.” Us, like they were already bound together. They were. For forty years, they were within reach, just separated by a chain link fence, where they could touch fingertips but the gate was locked. The lock was broken with Gin and Sousuke’s absence, and they could embrace freely, but the electricity between them, all the history, was too much to simply dive into.

“Let’s get you home. Ma’am, we’d like our check now, please.”

“I-I’m so sorry. It’s not you. I’m just new to all of this, Kira-kun.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for.” Izuru picked her up by her elbow, handed over a handful of coins to the waitress for their meal, and when they came onto the street, Momo breathed fresh air. It made her eyes sting a little, but it was a relief to be away from the warm lights and her swarm of ponderences. The air was cold and his hand was cold. The cool air burned but it was better than those foreign walls. And when they walked, Izuru walked close, like she was coddled in a blanket of him.

“I understand this night wasn’t perfect,” Izuru said as they came to a stop in front of her barracks, “but I enjoyed myself. Immensely. I want to do this again soon, later this week soon. Can I bring you coffee and lunch tomorrow afternoon?”

The followup scared Momo. Would she always feel like she was squeezed like a balloon when they were together? Could she withstand the pressure? Was she ready? Izuru was. Even without the pulse in his neck, Momo knew he wasn’t nervous. They weren’t in the same stage of the relationship. Izuru was always three steps ahead of her.

“Do you love me? Can you love me?” Momo asked.

“There’s no can. I have loved you for decades. Even though I remember my life before I joined the Gotei, I don’t remember when I didn’t love you.”

Love scared Momo. But Izuru held her so fragilely, like her skin was porcelain, he adored her unceasingly for decades. Love terrified her, life terrified her, but Shinji and Rose told her nothing came from complacency. Nothing came from nothing. Momo risked her wellbeing in the past, what was the worst that could happen? Another flop because he didn’t adore her?

“Noon tomorrow. Come to my barracks, I’ll have lunch ready there. Do you like coffee?” Momo replied.

“I’ll take care of the coffee,” Izuru told her.

Momo smiled. She kissed Izuru’s cheek and said, “I’ll see you then.”

“Goodnight, Hinamori.”

Finally inside her barracks, she breathed a sigh of relief. It was a confusing, scary, nice, and yet it was nice. She would see how his visit over would fare.

---

Gobantai’s break room was well-used and therefore a royal mess since it wasn’t one of Momo’s many projects. She wiped down every surface, disposed of the trash behind the administration office, washed the windows, beat out the rug and the curtains, cleaned the sinks and communal pots, and mopped the floor that morning. She decided it was one of those chores she had to delegate in the future. Perhaps officers from other divisions who needed disciplinary action could be loaned to gobantai and deep clean her division.

Unfortunately, Momo’s work also piled up while she cleaned. She stared at her haphazard piles scattered across her desk from careless subordinates. As efficient as she was, Momo was certain she would have more overtime than usual since there wasn’t nearly enough time to finish it all before her lunch date.

Izuru met her at the door to the breakroom when noon rolled around. He carried a tin of gourmet coffee in his black hand.

“Hello, Hinamori.” He bent over her and kissed her cheek. Momo giggled girlishly.

“Hello there. Right this way,” she said as she motioned inside. “I made miso soup, fish fillets, and veggies. I didn’t know how much you wanted so… I made too much.” Which was fucking silly of her. He didn’t need sustenance, Momo scolded herself.

“I brought some coffee. This was my mother’s favorite, I wanted you to try it.”

Momo chose to ignore the sentimentality behind his statement. It was too soon for something so heartfelt, especially when his parents were dead. “Wow. This looks so… expensive.” The tin was a vibrant cherry red. There was a diamond on one face with the brand’s name in a sleek, sophisticated font. As scary as the sentimentality was, part of her was touched he wanted to share something so luxurious with her. “I’ll put this on the stovetop now. You’re welcome to eat.”

“I… wanted to give these to you first.” Izuru presented Momo with a bouquet of myrtles. “One of my officers is married to one of your officers. She told me there weren’t any real decorations in here, and I remembered you liked flowers, so I decided these were a good idea, I guess.”

“These are beautiful, Kira…. Thank you.” Momo adored flowers. They were the topic of her every drawing. It scared her how well he knew her, and how she actually liked the attention and the gifts. But his shower of gifts made Momo’s lungs tight like she drowned in them. If she wanted it, them, to work, she needed to trust his attention wasn’t a distraction from his ugly side. Trusting was so hard.

Momo methodically placed the bouquet into a pitcher with water and put it on one of the tables in the middle of the room. It melted lifelessly into the white walls and brown tables, like it had been there forever. It terminated her torrent of nervous thoughts with its natural aura.

“I apologize if it’s… unclean in here. I’m not in this room often so I don’t oversee much of the cleaning,” said Momo as she sat across from Izuru.

“If there’s any mess, I haven’t noticed.”

She popped open their lunch canisters and slid one half over to Izuru. “I wanted to make something easy on your stomach. I don’t know what heavy foods do to you.”

“Decadence is below me. I had my fill as a boy.”

“As nobility, you mean?”

“Well… yes. I was an only child of very wealthy merchants, I’m sure you know. They pretty well spoiled me.”

“Merchants?” Momo asked, “I thought you were… regular nobility. Born into superior blood, all that.”

“I was. My father was Kagekiyo Kira. He was an entrepreneur who saved his money farming and bought the silk farm which employed him once the master passed away. My mother’s father hemorrhaged money from his family, so they decided they could keep their lifestyle if my mother married rich, so they arranged their marriage.”

“I was unaware.”

“Of course. The only other people I’ve told are Shuuhei and Rose. I try not to flaunt my elevated status.”

Momo laughed. “You had no problem flaunting your intellect as a cadet. But your bragging was well-deserved there. You were one of the most brilliant cadets in Shinou.” He was the prettiest, too. Was he as pretty as his mother? Momo wanted to pry into his family, but his parents’ deaths was another sore spot, like patches of leprosy. “Did you lose the farm after your parents expired?”

“No. I still profit from it, although I have very little to do with the business now. I only attend to a few things. Quarterly inspections to make sure everything runs efficiently, occasionally scolding foremen when the situation calls for it.”

“What situation would call for your involvement?”

“A foremen or business partner behaving inappropriately with one of our women workers, disease outbreak among our silkworms.”

“I assume it’s… unpleasant.”

Izuru shrugged. “It’s frivolous when I compare it to our wartime experience.”

“Did the Great War do a number on your farm?”

“Due to evacuation protocols, our employees couldn’t work, and our consumers couldn’t buy. Our silkworms were surprisingly untouched. A few died of starvation, but most of them were fine. We’re recovering at a phenomenal pace thanks to an investor’s daughter finally marrying. Our textile company is supplying the marital outfits as well fabric for bedding, furniture, and baby clothes. It was an order which cost more than two million yen.”

Momo choked on her coffee. “How fucking much?”

“I told you it was a huge order,” Izuru laughed. “Of course, I decided to reinvest that money into the business. Equipment, facilities, payroll, et cetera. It’s not like I need any of it.”

“I had no idea. That must have been difficult.”

“I don’t know. There were other things on my mind. After losing friends and my arm, it all just blurred together. The simplest decisions were easiest to conjure and execute. I’m just glad they worked for the better. Losing our farm would’ve been detrimental to the Rukongai’s economy.”

Momo knew all about the poverty in the Rukongai. The best-off were the nobles, of course. But regular souls like herself grew up in two or one-room huts or row houses in less than enviable conditions, and the only reason they could afford homes and food was thanks to employment from nobility. As sleezy as the noble families were, they were integral to the survival of many souls. Izuru had half the brain to acknowledge that at least.

Izuru cleared his throat. “Enough about myself. I’m no businessman…. H-how’re you?”

“That’s quite a loaded question,” Momo remarked. Never okay. She always choked, always overthought, always misty-eyed. She needed out of her head because her hands were sharpened swords. Momo could grow flowers on paper or bleed herself like a pig. Momo could clean the entire barracks in a single evening or bludgeon herself with a meat tenderizer. It all depended on the day.

“I apologize. Do… you have any news with your hobbies?”

“I don’t understand the question.”

“You draw, yes?”

“I do. I use chalk and charcoal to draw flowers and wildlife. Occasionally, I’m commissioned for larger pieces. I haven’t had any customers as of late.” She hadn’t bothered to accept orders in two years, however. It was… all too much for her.

“I haven’t seen any of your artwork, come to think of it.”

“I haven’t shown you any. I used to be very private about my drawings.” Everyone knew Momo was a traitor’s whore, though. Art critics were the least of Momo’s worries. “I’ll show you my sketchbook if you like, though. I have one in my desk I use while I wait for our meetings.”

“Let’s finish lunch first. I’d hate for this to go to waste.”

“Alright,” she agreed. Momo was too proud to admit she speedily finished so she could show off her drawings. She was eager for Izuru’s attention, eager for his praise. He helped her rinse their dishes and pile them into the satchel she carried them in. Momo guided Izuru to her office where she opened her desk and passed him a small, leather bound sketchbook.

“You’re welcome to peruse to your heart’s content,” she told him.

“These are gorgeous,” Izuru complimented. “Your use of color is breathtaking. I feel like they’re glowing.”

Momo’s ears warmed. She covered her mouth with her sleeve to hide her smile. “You think?” Izuru’s validation was intoxicating only two days into their relationship. Would she stumble like a drunkard if she stood next to him? “I just tried to exaggerate the color. Make it richer.”

“Well, you’ve done well. Can I see more of your sketchbooks sometime?”

“Yes. I would like that very much. A-are you free tomorrow evening?”

“Well, if you want to come for a drink with myself, Shuuhei, and Rangiku, you’re welcome to. This weekend would be easier for a private gathering.”

“Friday night, then?”

“I will see you Friday.” Izuru closed her sketchbook and bent over for a kiss. His cold, stiff thumb pet her cheek, like she was priceless and precious. She pressed herself into the curve of his chest and held his clothes in weak fists. It felt like the were light as butterflies, like when she opened her eyes, they’d be suspended by ribbon, puppets of pheromones and loneliness. Momo didn’t want to let go.

He slowly pulled away. Momo’s feet were firmly on the floor. Izuru’s eyes were partially lidded and a beautiful cobalt color. Breathtaking, like the ocean.

“Goodbye, Hinamori,” he said quietly.

“It’s Momo. Just Momo.”

“Okay. Goodbye, Momo.”

“I’ll see you Friday, Izuru.”

Izuru left her office. With every step, Momo felt hollow. He took a piece of her heart with him like the last one. She knew, she just knew, Izuru would put another scar on her heart like Sousuke did. Her scars already ached.

---

Momo tried to talk herself out of her paranoia. Momo knew Izuru for almost fifty years. She shouldn't question his intentions, she shouldn't have to. Izuru was always a friend, even when they were distant and hurting.

She couldn't keep her fears at bay. Eventually, Momo found Rangiku stashed in the corner of a cramped archive office in juubantai with a platoon of sake bottles.

"Miserable, are we?" Momo enquired.

"Yes and no." Rangiku slid Momo a drink. "Have some. You don't look much better."

Momo didn't drink. Alcohol touched her lips maybe once every few months, when she and Rangiku grieved together. She supposed she only drank with Rangiku.

"I think I'm in love with another man," Momo began.

"Izuru Kira?"

"Yes. Who told you?"

"He talks about you a lot." Rangiku lolled into Momo's lap. "Safe to say head over heels. Gets all smiley and talks fast and shit."

"I know…. I keep telling myself he's not Sousuke, but he's so perfect, Rangiku. Just like Sousuke was in the beginning. I feel like I'm freefalling into another trap. I'm fucking petrified."

"I see why. But you gotta take a risk, Momo."

Momo snort. "His captain said the same thing. I took a risk with Sousuke though, and look where that put me." Momo scratched her scar. "I don't know…. He compliments me and my brains drip out my ears. I'm still so juvenile when it comes to romance."

"No," Rangiku disagreed. "You didn't take a risk with Aizen. You were an innocent woman at the time. He took advantage of your trust and your love. There's a difference between him and Izuru."

"How do you know though?"

"What kind of gifts did Aizen give you?"

"Flowers."

"And what about Izuru?"

"Flowers and… and coffee. Expensive coffee. We drank it together, even though he doesn't like coffee. Sousuke never wanted it in the house. He complimented my drawings too. Sousuke never liked them. Izuru reminds me to eat too, and he asks me about my day,” Momo replied. Sousuke's eyes never smiled. Even in death, when Izuru kissed her, he looked so happy.

Momo wiped her eyes. "Why is this so hard?"

"Oh, sweetie, it's not your fault. I wasn't mad at you. I'm never mad at you. I just wanted to show you he's different." Rangiku coiled around Momo. "You're my best friend. I want you at my wedding and I want you to have someone to be so happy with it makes your head spin so I can go to your wedding too."

"I know. Sousuke left his mark all over me. Izuru deserves someone who can cope with their own feelings."

"Like he's any better. You two will make it work though. You're so sweet and he's so loving."

"But I turned my sword on him, Rangiku,” Momo wept. “He was protecting Ichimaru when Sousuke had that corpse doll on the wall. I ignored him for a man who tried to kill us all and now I'm punishing him with my own trauma."

"No you're not. He loves you, Momo.”

“So? He deserves someone more reasonable, someone who can tell when they’re projecting the past onto the present.”

“He’s got his own problems. He hates himself too. Gin left scars on Izuru too. What’s important is that you two love each other and help each other through these episodes,” said Rangiku, surprisingly coherent for someone who drank her way through at least a dozen liters of sake. “I know it’s hard. You don’t think it’s hard with me and Nanao? That I’m scared she’ll abandon me too like Gin? People like us deserve love, and we’ll get it, but we get the journey with it. You and Izuru are no exception.”

Momo buried her soggy, congested face in Rangiku’s shoulder, and she squeezed Rangiku as hard as she could. “I’m sorry for all this. I’m a disaster.”

“It happens to the best of us. Look at me, drinking my pain away.” Sterilizing Gin’s desertion with intemperance, exactly like Momo drowned herself in busywork. Something that kept grief at bay.

“Can I stay a little longer?” Momo asked.

“Of course.” Rangiku gave her another glass. “Drink with me, sweetie. Just exist for awhile.”

---

Momo woke up Rangiku’s couch with an enormous headache. Thankfully, Rangiku’s barracks were dark thanks to the thick curtains installed over the eastern windows, even though it was almost ten in the morning. Momo found her way to the bathroom, hesitantly pilfered the medicine cabinet for pain killers, and washed her sticky mouth with tap water. They drank too much whenever they were together.

She made her way to the kitchen to prepare Rangiku something to eat and a thank-you note. Her stomach was too feeble for anything but Rangiku was rarely hungover.

It was almost lunchtime when Momo walked into her office with another formidable pile she neglected thanks to her hangover. She was about to sit when she noticed Shinji laid across one of her sofas.

“Someone’s late,” he commented.

“I apologize, Captain. I was irresponsible last night. I’ll be more careful.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Shinji waved dismissively, “I’m more curious why. Does that Kira have something to do with it?”

“No, I was catching up with Rangiku-san.” Momo lied infrequently, but she was ashamed of her behavior over the last twelve or so hours. “I supposed we touched on myself and Izuru, but it wasn’t anything bad.”

“Izuru? What happened to the formalities?” Shinji sat up, folded his legs, and watched Momo with a coy smile. “Things going good for you two?”

Momo should’ve known there was no use to hide from Shinji. She was a terrible liar to begin with. “Yes. It’s… weird, sometimes, after having been Sousuke’s possession, but we mesh together well. I missed him. I missed feeling in love.”

“I’m more surprised you two got together. Rose tells me Kira’s been pining forever.”

“Sousuke Aizen swept me off my feet before Izuru could even consider romancing me.”

“So you won?”

“Won? I don’t understand. What did I win?” Momo asked.

“You told me Sousuke wanted to destroy you. To break you down, turn you into mincemeat. To need him so much you would die without him. Look where you are now: you got a man who loves you lots. You’re still alive after two attempts on your life. I think that counts as a win.”

She smiled. “I never saw it like that. Thank you, Shinji.”

“Anything for my baby girl,” he said with a wink. “I’ll catch you around. Take care, Momo.”

“Thank you. I will.”

---

Friday came with ease. Momo's days weren't by any means sluggish, but they weren't a blur either. It felt healthier than when time passed during her dissociative survival episodes.

She was undeniably nervous for reasons unknown as she approached Izuru's barracks. Momo told herself she was just the nervous sort. She was grateful it didn't show when she knocked on his door. Izuru opened his home with a smile.

"Good evening, Izuru. I brought some cooking supplies to fry up takoyaki."

"Come in. Thank you, I look forward to them."

Izuru's barracks were spartan. There was a grey couch, and grey curtains, and a square wooden table with square wooden chairs. There weren't any decorations. The only piece of humanity were his many nonfiction books in many bookshelves. Law, philosophy, medicine, language, history, zoology; Izuru was more scholarly than Momo realized. His brilliance only seemed more phenomenal. Although, Momo supposed his nights were filled with reading if he couldn't sleep.

"Did you want anything to drink, Momo?" Izuru asked.

Momo deposited her carry-on onto the counter. "Just water. Where are your pans?"

Izuru reached into a tall shelf and presented a large pan with tall sides. "Will this do?"

"Yes. Thank you." Momo put it on the stovetop. "I never realized how well-read you are."

"I feel like I'm wasting time when I read fiction. Novels aren't as easily dissected as poetry, so the theme isn't as clear, or as artful. Poetry speaks to the soul in a shorter and more poignant form."

She laughed. "I was talking about everything but your poetry books."

"Oh..." Izuru replied bashfully. "These books actually belonged to my father. He grew up very poor. When he had access to knowledge, he went overboard with it. But he shared the knowledge with me. I read them now. I feel like I'm closer to him and my mother when I read these books."

"You must've been close to your parents," said Momo.

"I adored them. My mother Shizuka was kind and wise, my father Kagekiyo was ambitious and devout. He told me the reason he wanted to buy the farm was so he could raise a family comfortably. They always found time for me. I remember playing with a ball in the garden. My mother taught me a lot about kidou too."

"That explains your advantage in the academy."

"I was certainly privileged." Izuru pulled an onion out of Momo's reach. "How finely do you need this cut?"

"No bigger than half the size of your pinky finger's nail. We'll only need half the onion to go with the breading, though."

Izuru swiftly halved the onion. "You don't talk much about your own family," he said. "I know your brother is Hitsugaya. Is he all the family you have?"

"No. We lived together with our grandmother before we came here. She’s a kindly woman. She's a maid for the Oumaeda family." Momo hadn't visited her grandmother in some time though. She was too ashamed that she attacked her brother to ever face her family and expect anything more than cold shoulders. She was too ashamed that she was brainwashed by a villain like Sousuke Aizen and gave everything to a man who just discarded her. "Unfortunately, my grandmother was unable to teach me like your parents could. Everything I learned in the Rukongai, I learned on my own."

"Momo, for someone self-taught, you are truly impressive. Your use of kidou is revolutionary. Your intrinsic power is sublime. I hope you don't think lowly of yourself because of something so silly."

"I don't. I suppose I'm just jaded because of the stigma against the common folk."

"The Seireitei is classist. There's no arguing that. I've always admired your innovation, however. You make kidou something mystical again."

Momo smiled and tucked her hair behind her ear. "Well, thank you. I never saw it that way."

"Is it true you've invented your own kidou?" Izuru asked. "I heard a rumor from one of my officers who saw you fight during the Great War."

"It is. I have a number of spells I've created."

"I'd very much like to hear about them."

"Shizumu Hebi is my personal favorite. I create these snake-like ropes that slide across the ground and restrains anyone who steps on it. At first, it's nothing to worry about, especially in an open area. What makes them really deadly is when they begin multiplying every half minute. There's no limit to their growth until I cancel the spell, and even if my enemy is already captured, more can constrict them. It's actually how I killed a Jagdarmee. They suffocated from the tightness of my Shizumu Hebi."

"That is a formidable spell. That can't be all, though."

"It's not. I have a spell I call Ryuuzetsu that turns my saliva into a flammable liquid when I spit into water. I came up with it on the spot during the Great War and had access to a puddle. There's also Kijo Yubi, which makes my skin oil acidic. Kanbousu is a subzero kidou web that can peel off limbs or cause frostbite within minutes. Neneki Himo is a green goo that I have a number of uses for, namely support or defense. It's especially effective capturing melee weapons since it's so sticky. My most recent creation is Shinkirou. Sousuke Aizen and Shinji Hirako inspired it. It's a mirage that uses water particles in the air to bend light. When I tested it on myself, my environment refracted like a kaleidoscope. I need more time to tweak it, however. I can't find a way to exclude my allies from its effects."

"Momo, they're incredible. Your creativity is awe-inspiring."

"You know, flattery gets you nothing," Momo said with a teasing bump of her shoulder to his side.

"Not even a kiss?"

"Of course not." Momo puckered her lips and Izuru pecked her playfully.

"These should be done frying though." Momo dumped their takoyaki onto a plate lined with a fresh washcloth to absorb the extra oil. "They need to cool for awhile."

"Care to have a seat?"

"Sure thing."

“Oh, by the way, did Rangiku tell you she’s ring shopping for Ise-san?”

"She didn't...." Although, the last time Momo saw Rangiku was when they were drunk and miserable, when Momo thought it was more important to imagine bitterness in her and Izuru's hearts than check into her friends' personal lives. Nanao and Rangiku were her best friends. Momo wasn't nearly as good of a friend to them if she wasn’t up to speed with their wedding plans. "Has she chosen one?"

"Yes. I'd ask to see it after the ceremony, though. I imagine it’s meant to be seen with Nanao."

"Rangiku does have a soft spot for ceremony, doesn’t she?”

"Speaking of romance, have you heard from your brother?"

"No... what does he have to do with romance?"

"Rangiku tells me he has a girlfriend in the World of the Living. One of the Kurosaki girls, the one who can see us."

Momo frowned. "I didn't even know Kurosaki had siblings." If she wasn't comatose, she lived in solitude, away from current events, away from even her family. Toushirou ought to hate her and he had every right. Momo turned her sword on him, Momo hadn't spoken to him since their battle against Sousuke Aizen, she hadn't even visited him. She was a terrible friend, a terrible sister, and a terrible granddaughter.

"I'm sorry," Izuru said as he wiped her tears away with his thumbs. "I shouldn't gossip.... I think Hitsugaya should've told you himself, but he obviously hasn't reintegrated himself into your life."

Momo argued, "it's not his fault, Izuru. I left him. I attacked him. He's just a boy, he doesn't know how to cope with this."

"If you say so. I'm just livid whenever I think about it. I love you so much. I just want you to be deliriously happy, especially knowing how important your loved ones are to you."

Momo smiled and curled her legs to her chest. “If you don’t mind me prying, why did you join the Gotei? I know it’s a status symbol for most nobility, but you’ve never looked down your nose at anyone.”

“I wanted to get away from the family business so I took on other responsibilities here. I think my parents would have been disappointed, but….”

“We all have to leave the nest sometime. Your parents loved you more than anything, Izuru, I can tell. Even if they disagreed with your decision, I’m sure they would’ve loved you all the same and found a suitable heir to the business elsewhere.” Momo pushed his bangs behind one of his ears. “I want to think it’s for the better. I wouldn’t have met you if you hadn’t joined.” A selfish advantage on Momo’s part, but she was a selfish person.

“You’re right,” Izuru said after he kissed her cheek. “I’m glad I got to meet you, Momo. I’m glad I got to fall in love with you.”

She adoringly smiled at Izuru. He loved her so, and she loved to hear it, so she pressed a kiss to his lips. Izuru kissed her back. He pulled her closer by the back of her neck. Momo felt experimentive. She traced his lips with her tongue, Izuru happily pulled it behind his teeth. Sousuke Aizen was always so detached.... They never made out. He always just turned her over and did as he pleased.

But Izuru laid on his back. He pressed kisses across her jaw and her neck. Momo's cheeks were warm like her loins. He squeezed her breasts. She itched for his skin to scratch her, an itch she didn't realize until he touched her like an adult with fucking needs.

"Here," Momo sat up and eagerly untied her obi. "Undress me, Izuru."

His blue eyes bugged out of their sockets. Were he alive, she was certain his breath would have been ragged from arousal. His hakama bulged instead. He was aroused by her brazen order instead of her pain. It intoxicated Momo.

Izuru grabbed her open top and slowly slipped it down her arms to savor every piece of skin he uncovered. "God," he rasped, "you are gorgeous, Momo, every bit of you."

He kissed the top of her breasts, made way to her cleavage, and worked down to the underside of her breasts. She held fast to the clothes on his back because he was already so sexy and it was so long since anyone touched her so reverently and needily. When he kissed one of her nipples, Momo ground her hips against his. His erection wasn't warm but it was hard and strained against his hakama for freedom.

"I want to eat your pussy, Momo," he whispered against the shell of her ear. "Can I eat your pussy?"

Her brain must have fallen into her crotch because Momo couldn't conjure a verbal yes, only a loud moan and a fervent nod.

Izuru slipped off the couch, kneeled in front of her, and slipped off her hakama. Momo never wore underwear. They were too hot beneath her clothes. Momo guessed Izuru took delight in that by the way he licked his chops. He spread her legs, kissed the inside of her thigh, and kissed up into her groin. His broad tongue tasted her. Momo instinctively covered her mouth and Izuru pried it off. He pinned her hands to her sides and lapped at her moistened lips.

"Sweet god," Momo whined, "you're amazing. This is amazing."

Izuru pulled Momo's legs onto his shoulders. He followed her valleys and peaks with the tip of his tongue, and then he grazed over her clitoris. She gasped, her legs spasmed and closed around his head. He pulled her closer by her rear and enthusiastically writhed against it. "Fuck," Momo cursed. "Oh god, Izuru, fuck me."

Izuru stumbled back. "What?" he said.

"Fuck me," Momo pleaded as she pulled at his belt. "Please, I've never done anything that's felt so good. Please fuck me."

Izuru ripped off his obi, pushed Momo onto her back, and wrapped her legs around his hips.

"Just like that," Momo coaxed his cock's pink head into her, "treat me sweetly like you always do."

He wordlessly slipped inside of her. Momo's eyes fluttered shut. It was so much better when she was wet and needy like a cat in heat. Sousuke never treated her so well. He never pumped her slowly, never thumbed her clitoris for that extra euphoria. "Harder, Izuru, fuck me harder," Momo demanded. He scratched that itch so well and she wanted it more.

Izuru pound into her, the couch they fucked on rocked loudly, like music to her ears, her breasts bounced, Momo’s nails dug into his shoulders, he grunted rhythmically. Momo felt a kind pressure build inside her. It was so fast. Her everything from her chest down spasmed as she moaned. Momo had never orgasmed before but it felt like magic. “Yes. Fuck, yes,” she muttered gutteraly.

His constant piston finally became sloppy. Izuru’s eyes rolled in the back of his head as he orgasmed. His strength finally left him and he toppled on top of Momo.

For a minute, he only breathed. “Sweet mother of god, that was amazing,” he wheezed.

“It was fantastic,” Momo sighed contently. “I never… I never thought I’d actually enjoy it. But you are a stallion.”

Izuru kissed her. She tasted her cum on his lips. “It’s easy with you. You’re so beautiful. You’re classy when you’re like this too.”

Momo smiled. "Thank you."

He slipped off his kosode and draped it around Momo. "I'm sorry your takoyaki went cold. I can reheat them if you like."

"It's okay. I just want to lay with you."

“Okay.” Izuru guided her to his bedroom where he swaddled Momo in his arms. When she breathed, and smelled his medicine and linen, she found peace in what was once a cage.

---

Momo was decades older than what she looked, and as old as she was, the passage of time was always something weird. It crawled like molasses when she was younger. It was altogether surreal when she was depressed. When she was happy, it was a smudge, like she accidentally brushed her hand over one of her charcoal drawings before she sealed it.

Izuru perused her larger sketchbook and admired her flowers and birds. "Beautiful," he complimented. When he stumbled across a drawing she made of him, he smiled bashfully. "I suppose I have to acclimate to being a muse for another artist."

“You will. I plan to draw you every minute I can,” Momo said.

Izuru was found with her by Shinji or Rose every day around lunch or shift change. "My, you two are closer every day. One day we'll find you fused at the hip," Rose commented each time, and Momo always stroked Izuru's arm because it wouldn't have been so bad to be with him every minute of her life.

His uniforms began to turn up in her laundry. Momo cleared a drawer for his clothes in her barracks. She lost her charcoal in Izuru's home a handful of times so he bought an easel with a drawer. Somehow, they even swapped kitchenware. Momo's assortment of gaudy mixing bowls tumbled onto the floor when she looked for a bread pan in Izuru's home. Izuru's cups amassed at the foot of Momo's mug collection.

Momo missed the domesticity. When their homes felt like one, she never before felt so whole, even if it meant more cleaning she had to do.

Beneath where her uniform was piled in his closet, she found an open chest with a young, alabaster-skinned woman who wore a latex mask printed on a glossy page. Her heart fell into her gut and she burst into tears. She tore the chest from the closet and stormed into the common’s where Izuru nurtured another glass of wine.

She dropped the chest on the table. Her nostrils flared. “What the hell is this?”

Izuru normally has a passive if not mildly inconvenienced expression. His eyes were as wide as saucers then.

“Who the fuck are these girls?”

“It’s pornography. Th-they’re like actresses, but instead of performing for movies or plays, they're hired to act out sexual situations and then are photographed.”

Momo's blood boiled. Her chest burned. “Why do you have these? Aren’t I enough?” Was she ever enough?

"Of course you are." Izuru flew to his feet and held her by her arms. "Momo, I know this looks terrible, but I like certain things sexually that I know you're not comfortable with. I-I take care of my own urges so I don't subject you to them in the heat of the moment."

Momo shook her head. She reeled out of Izuru's hold. He lied. "You're lying. I'm not enough for you. You're exactly like Sousuke. I'm just a thing to rub one out in and clean your fucking house." She pushed her hair out of bed face. "I should've fucking known. I’ll never have anything good."

"Momo, that's not true. I love you. I-I know this is terrible, but it's cathartic for me to put myself in these situations---"

"Where girls are just things? Where you can slap them around? Fucking spank them like kids?" Of course Izuru groomed her to fit his fantasies. Sousuke played the long game, a couple years for Izuru to wait for her availability would've been nothing. Why her? Why was she always the object of people's malignance? How long would he have waited to shove her onto the floor with a bag over her head and sodomize her like the girls in his magazines? "Did you think I'd let you get away with this, Izuru? Did you really think I'd just let it slide?"

"Of course, that's why I kept it. You mean everything to me. This stuff is just recreational. There’s no emotional attachment."

Izuru was heartless and she was the fool between them to have let herself grow complacent with another man. They were all the same: they groomed her to be a domestic pet. The monsters were always so nice in the beginning. It was only easier for Izuru since Sousuke did all the work for him, forty years worth.

"You must think I'm stupid." Momo jabbed her finger against his chest. "Did you really think I'd be okay with this depiction of… of slavery? I'm no different than these girls to you! And you're no different than Sousuke. You know, you’re right. I'm so fucking stupid to have ever believed you were any different."

"God, Momo, you're acting like I fucking raped you. I'm not your fucking punching bag."

"This isn't my fucking fault!" Momo screamed. "Don't you pin this on me. I've never been enough for you. You’re selfish and twisted. It was only a matter of time before you wanted me to play like these girls. Fuck you, Izuru!"

Izuru rumbled like a volcano, "can you stop making me into the fucking bad guy? I love you! Something happens that you don't like, and you got to meltdown and you make some poor sod look like an evil bastard. I put up with it because you show progress everyday, but you can't treat me like a fucking fiend."

"This isn't my fault. You are a fucking fiend, apparently, with your sick bullshit. You people always treat me like a fucking blow up doll."

"You're a belligerent fucking martyr!" Izuru loomed over her with fiery eyes. "I love you so much but I will not let you treat me like a doormat!"

"You people are just evil! I am a plaything to you, and I'm a fool to have ever thought otherwise!"

Izuru slapped a vase off an end table. It flew across the room and crashed against the opposite wall. Her vision turned red, red like the blood on her teeth after Sousuke hit her, red like her hands when she picked up broken mugs. Momo shrieked in undilated horror. She scrambled for the door, bleary from her tears, and screamed for help, but the door wouldn't budge. Izuru's detestable black arm curled around her shoulder to pull her away from freedom.

"Shizumu Hebi!" Momo's kidou fell out of her pant leg and apprehended Izuru. She slammed her body against the rice paper door, fell into the porch, and ran for her fucking life.

Momo cowered in a dark, crowded closet somewhere in gobantai. She wasn't sure where else to go. Izuru would look for her at her house. She couldn't stay with Shinij or Nanao, they were too close to Izuru's friends Rose and Rangiku. She hadn't spoken to Shuuhei or Renji in some time, and she was certain Toushirou would've been no different. Izuru was like Sousuke: omnipresent even in his absence.

Izuru and Sousuke were one in the same and Momo hadn't changed one bit.

---

Morning came too soon. Momo only knew because she heard footsteps outside her nook.

She brought herself to her feet. Her throat was dry and she didn't bother to smooth her hair. She had a walk of shame to do, it wasn't her first. Momo saw their eyes in her peripheral. Her scar burned as they stared.

Momo took a seat at her desk and sighed at the stack of paperwork on her desk. It seemed like a mountain, a mountain to bury herself and her pain in like a tomb.

Sometime later, a knock came from Momo’s door. Kokona Honda, a beautiful young woman with blonde hair and dark skin, and a capable officer just a few seats below Momo, entered and placed a manila folder on the corner of her desk.

“Good morning. Here are the reports from the nightguard last night. How about some coffee--- holy shit, are you okay?”

“Yes. Bring me some coffee, if possible. Let everyone know all communications to me are to go through you first. Refill my water for my inkstone too.”

“Yes, Lieutenant…. Please let me know if there’s anything else I can do.”

Momo watched Kokona leave her office. Her fingers combed through her messy hair and returned to her paperwork. Momo worked herself into a familiar routine, just like her routine with Sousuke in charge. There was some comfort she found in that. Momo knew how to cope with dread.

Shinji was never punctual, not like her or Kokona. He was just on time according to his internal clock, but he took a detour from his ordinary route.

“Momo, I’m coming in,” he said. Momo cussed under her breath. "You two were noisy last night from what I heard."

"It's already made its rounds?" Momo asked hoarsely. No. Kokona told him, that fucking gossipmonger. All she really wanted for the time being was to be left alone.

Shinji placed a bottle of iced tea on her desk. “Drink. You sound like shit, and once you finish that, we can talk about what happened.”

Momo shook her head. She refused to drink. "Why does this always happen to me?" she asked. There was no point in hiding it from Shinji. "I'm never enough. My personality is bland, my sex is subpar, my food must be awful."

"Momo, drink," Shinji coaxed her. "Please drink for me."

For Shinji, she swallowed mouthfuls of tea until his bottle was empty. Her throat was sticky from the sugar.

"What makes you think you're not enough, Momo? You guys seemed to be doing just fine before."

Momo's eyes squeezed shut as she cried anew. "I found BDSM pornography stashed in his closet when I was folding laundry. Girls were tied up and smacked around a-and I lost it. We got into a screaming match. Izuru got so mad he hit a vase off a table a-and I got so scared that I ran and hid here all night."

"Oh, Momo," Shinji cooed, "I'm so sorry. You should’ve came to me."

"I couldn’t, your husband would’ve been so mad. I feel so stupid. I should've seen this coming. I should've known I don't get good men."

Shinji pet her hair. "Take the day off. I'll take care of things here. You need to get some rest."

"I don't want to go home," Momo croaked.

"Then you can sleep here. I'll turn off some of the lights, bring my work in here, but I won't leave you alone."

She nodded. "Okay." She wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "I'm sorry."

“It’s all okay, sweetie, just take it easy for a bit. Why don’t we do something together to get your mind off this. Let’s go watch a game. Kyuubantai’s rugby team is playing against juusanbantai tonight.”

“I never pegged you as a jock,” she replied. “I’d like to go though.”

“Well, Kensei is playing and I’d like to support him.”

"Okay. I'll be there."

"I'm glad, Momo. Let me know if you need anything in the meantime."

Momo nodded, albeit physically and emotionally exhausted. She had allies and that was all that mattered. The men she loved were questionable at best, but she was never alone so long as she had her captain.

---

Momo walked alone to the rugby game with hot coco in her hands. It wasn't a cold evening, but she preferred something warm in her when she was upset. She needed it. If Shuuhei's captain played rugby, Shuuhei was sure to be there, and by extension Izuru too since those two did almost everything together.

Shinji met her at the gate with a vest over his colorful kimono. "Hey, darlin', don't look so down! We're here to have fun."

"Okay," Momo nodded. Shinji swept an arm over her shoulders and led her onto the bleachers where Lisa sat with bleacher chairs.

"Hello again, Hinamori," Lisa greeted. "I wasn't aware you drank."

"Hello, Yadomaru-taichou. I don't drink alcohol often. This is hot coco," Momo replied.

"Oh, nice. Have you ever tried it with hazelnut creamer? It's really good."

"No, but I'll keep it in mind for next time."

Suddenly, a whistle went off and each team ran after a pigskin ball. Momo wasn't the sporty sort. She frequently lost the ball and she couldn't make out what the exchanges between the opposite team members were. It looked more like a fistfight than sports. Eventually, she became bored and instead absently scratched her hot coco. She felt Izuru on the other side of the bleacher's, however, his reiatsu was as faint as death. Had he seen her? Did he look for her?

Momo glanced up to check. She could feel his cold eyes upon her like a film of sweat. He was there and she wanted to leave very much. The wound felt like a broken vase, brittle, sharp, raw. It hurt to even be near Izuru.

"I just remembered I have a package I need to pick up," Momo said quietly. She escaped before Shinji could protest. As soon as Momo reached the backside of the bleachers, she burst into tears. She briskly walked in the general direction of her barracks.

"Momo, wait,"

Izuru stood behind her with Shuuhei yards away, and Momo cried out in fright. "God, what the hell are you doing?" she barked.

Shuuhei came to a stop next to Izuru. "I told you she doesn’t want to see you."

"I don't!" Momo spat. "What the fuck do you want with me, Izuru? Come to justify yourself like Sousuke? I've had enough of your guys' speeches."

"Okay, now that's just low, Hinamori." Shuuhei groaned with his head in his hands. "If you two wanna duke it out, we can take it somewhere private. We’re lieutenants. We can’t just cause a scene."

"I'm not here to fight," Izuru complained indignantly. He took a step forward. Momo took a step back. "I… I just want to talk about the other day, Momo."

"I think we know each other's stances on that subject. I'm not your fucking blow up doll."

"You're not. I'd never make you into something cheap and two dimensional. You're like your flowers. You're full of vibrance and beauty."

"Izuru, you threw a fucking vase at me!"

"This is a private fucking matter!" Shuuhei took them both by the crook of their arms and guided them into the equipment room nearby.

"You threw a vase at me!" Momo resumed only seconds after they were thrown into the equipment room. "You were so mad you threw a heavy vase at me so fucking hard it shattered. It scratched my wall and my floor."

"I'll fix them myself."

"I don't want them fixed. I want to stay the hell away from me. I'm not going to be wrapping my ribs again because you get fired up about your porn."

"I'm willing to give it up, Momo. I'd do anything for you."

Momo stilled. "Really?"

"Yes, of course." Izuru held Momo by her upper arms and pet her arms with his thumbs. "I love you so much."

She was conflicted how to respond. On one hand, Momo wanted to trust Izuru. Rangiku and Rose told her to take the plunge. On the other hand, how many times would she have to plunge? How many times would she have to compromise? What abyss would she sink deeper in with each plunge of faith? On the other hand, Izuru loved her. Even without his reiatsu, she could see his adoration in his angel blue eyes. Momo hungered for that adoration. She wanted someone to compliment her, take her into their arms and adorn her with kisses, someone to let her know how much she meant for the rest of her life.

Momo had forgiven worse sins in the past. Even though there was a pit in her stomach, she chose to ignore it and forgive him. Izuru was a man of his word. Her pain was sure to be impermanent.

"Okay. I believe you." Momo wrapped Izuru in her arms and laid her head against his chest. Izuru sighed in relief. Old habits never died, she guessed. "I love you, Izuru."

"I love you too. I love you so much."

Momo's gaze discreetly turned to Shuuhei. He watched with an indistinguishable expression. She hoped he was happy for them.

"Can I take you back to Hirako-taichou and Yadomaru-taichou? I hear we're having a celebration dinner for kyuubantai if they win. We can meet up at the restaurant after the game," Izuru said.

"Sounds like a plan. I'll see you then."

Izuru and Momo walked hand-in-hand back to the rugby game with Shuuhei behind them. Izuru kissed her goodbye. Momo returned to her seat next to her captain who greeted her with an inquisitive look. "I'll tell you later," she said. "Where were we going to for the celebration dinner?"

"A hibachi restaurant called Monkey's Nest. Are you up for going?"

"Yes, of course."

Finally, the whistle blew. The referee announced kyuubantai as the victor and Momo watched them celebrate on the field. The audience shuffled out of the bleachers. Momo collected the bleacher chairs for Lisa and they rushed to meet Kensei's supporters outside the field for dinner. Izuru met her again. He grabbed her hand in his own and they waited for their party to be completed. When Kensei and Mashiro arrived with wet hair from their shower, their gaggle made way to the Monkey's Nest.

"Have you ever been here before?" Izuru asked Momo.

"No, but I am excited to try it out. I've never seen teppanyaki before this. Are they going to have a table big enough for all of us?"

"Of course. There are only eight of us. Shuuhei and I made sure to reserve a full table too."

Despite their easy banter, Momo sensed the tension in their group. She was certain gossip about her and Izuru's fight had spread among their little family, and Momo cursed those gossip mongers. She hoped Shinji knew better than to divulge her personal matters to anyone but his spouse. When she glanced over her shoulder with one eye, she saw her captain and Rose sandwich Kensei. Shinji was visibly concerned by her proximity to Izuru, and she didn't blame him when just that morning, she was in tears and told him she had to run away after their fight. He must have thought poorly of her. In his shoes, Momo wouldn't have any different of a woman who went back to a man that terrorized her only twenty-four hours ago.

When they arrived at Monkey's Nest, Shinji cut between her and Izuru. "Looks like we'll be sitting together," he said, "seating arrangements and all that."

"Oh... alright," Izuru said.

"We're sitting next to each other, Izuru. Gonna get in some real bonding time by the looks of it."

Izuru remained sullen. Momo was ashamed that she was relieved to see Shinji let Izuru know he was happy to intervene next time.

"Right this way," their hostess said, who guided them to their respective tables. Shinji sat between her and Izuru.

"I'm in the mood for something new, Izuru, got any suggestions?"

"I'm not the person you should ask. I don't taste anything unless it's very spicy."

"Aw, c'mon, you gotta have something you liked."

"Beef yakisoba."

"Beef yakisoba? That's unoriginal."

"I'm a creature of habit."

Shinji groaned. "That's a shame. I thought you liked playing around."

"You heard wrong."

Momo worried they would devolve into a screaming match. Rather, Shinji would scream at Izuru and he would sit there and take it like a miserable sod because he thought he deserved it. Izuru wasn't an alpha by any means. While Momo was grateful for Shinji's support, she didn't want him to steamroll Izuru like Gin did. "Captain... please stop. We're here for your friend Muguruma-taichou, not to bully my boyfriend. Let's talk about this later."

Shinji frowned. "Alright, hun,” he conceded, “I'll drop it for now."

"Can I sit next to my boyfriend?"

"Can't say no to my daughter, can I?"

Momo sat next to Izuru and he gratefully held her hand on the countertop. She smiled at him.

"The duck yakitori is great," Izuru whispered.

Momo nodded. "I'll give it a shot. How're we dividing the check, by the way?"

"There's a maximum of three checks per reservation. I'll cover you, Hirako-taichou, Muguruma-taichou, and myself."

"I can pay for myself."

"Nonsense. I want to pay for your supper," Izuru told her and pet her back.

"Okay."

"How'd you like the game?"

"I was lost the entire time, truthfully. I don't know anything about sports."

"Me neither, I just like watching buff guys run around."

Momo giggled. "Well, I won't deny there were a couple of very good-looking gentlemen playing."

Their chef came and took their orders. When he spread oil on the grill and lit it with a match, Momo squealed in delight. She adored fire shows, and it stoked nostalgia for their first date only two months ago. It felt so long ago. Simpler and sweeter. Izuru was bittersweet.

Her food was dumped on her plate with a knock against its ceramic body. Momo tasted it and hummed contentedly. It was delicious. Momo's stomach actually rumbled gratuitously for the first time in decades.

Of course, all things came to an end. They covered the party's cost and dispersed outside.

"Can I hug you before you go, Momo?" Shinji asked.

She nodded. Her captain swept her into his arms. His embrace was fatherly. Momo rarely hugged anyone, but Shinji's embrace was reprieve. Like a fortress.

"Let me know if you need anything at all. I'm on your side and I always will be."

She held Shinji's clothes in her tight fists. That was all she ever wanted, someone ceaselessly loyal. Someone she was enough for.

"I'll take you home," Izuru said. She wrapped herself around Izuru's arm and waved farewell to her captain. When they reached her barracks, Izuru gave her a shy kiss.

"Can I stay here tonight?" he asked. "I know you're still hurt, but I don't feel right if I'm not with you after hours."

"Yes," Momo answered eagerly, "stay the night."

They were pulled like toys into her bedroom, where they stripped into more comfortable clothes and cuddled beneath her purple quilt. Momo knew moments like that, like true love, weren’t fleeting. They could be bruised but always healed.

---

Momo juggled unease and glee the days that followed. A cloud of doom followed her like she had it on a leash, but she told herself Izuru apologized, she told herself he treasured her enough to change his ways.

Kokona minded her own business. Momo was sure her keen subordinate picked up on the lump in her throat, but if Kokona noticed, she said nothing, only gossiped about her new friend from juunibantai when they accidentally melted something heavy through the floor of the monitor room. Her captain was the same. Shinji's poker face was convincing in most cases, but Momo got the sense Shinji itched to meddle like a father. Nonetheless, she was grateful for the space they gave her and Izuru.

She only saw Shuuhei one afternoon in a lieutenant's meeting. Perhaps it was her pet doom cloud, but Momo swore his jaw was tense and he talked quietly when he presented the emergency protocol in case of a large spread fire in the Seireitei. Momo had pretty keen hearing, but even she struggled to hear him. What had him so upset?

Momo and Izuru never returned to normal. Her need for affection was peppered with a chest ache, like there was a knife stuck in her ribs whenever Izuru kissed her. She promised all was forgiven. The doom cloud was just paranoia.

Of course, it stung worse when Izuru undressed her and tried to make love to her. Momo always ended up on her belly and dry by the time he finished, and then he rolled over onto his own side of whosoever bed they happened to use, and a horrible, vindictive part of her hoped it was shame that sequestered and silenced him.

In the past, Momo just floated through existence. She never slept, never enjoyed food or friendship, she hunkered down ten hours a day on paperwork. Momo was convinced even if their happiness was punctuated with misery, it was worth it.

Something in Momo told her it wasn't worth it. Her conflicted feelings were getting old, especially when she was distracted from the biweekly lieutenant's meeting. Iemura was sure to yell at her if she was caught.

When Momo came back, she saw Rangiku laze with her arms crossed, legs outstretched, eyes glazed over. Shuuhei was her antithesis when it came to work. He was always attentive and efficient. But he was distracted that meeting. His eyes were glazed over, they darted side to side. Momo knew he rest even less than herself, but come to think of it... Rangiku and Shuuhei were good friends. Rangiku divulged a lot to him. Something had to have happened to one of them for both of them to be distracted. Come to think of it, Rangiku normally braided her hair by that point. She was sullen comparatively.

But Rangiku was getting married, Nanao fret over a venue. They were happy. They couldn't have broken up. Had something happened to Shuuhei? Momo wasn't ever close to him. He wouldn't have shared anything with her that he shared with Rangiku.

When the meeting ended, Nanao and Rangiku caught up with her.

"Hello there," Nanao said. "I just finished the Yobanashi Mountain saga. It's a great series," Nanao told Momo. "Nawaka is long-winded when it comes to politics, but the world-building is worth it. Can you really believe he's an uneducated pauper when his grasp of economy, diplomacy, and language is so complete?"

Momo reluctantly fed into the distraction. If no one wanted to talk about it, she wouldn’t bring it up. "Is this really only the first book though? You could make a sturdy wall out of a couple copies of these."

"It is. The size is definitely daunting, but give the first chapter a try. You'll know you'll like it if it just sucks you in."

"I'll give it a read."

"Nonono. Momo, what you really need to read is the latest bulletin news section. Apparently, the Kuchiki clan's Ashitchi Kuchiki is being charged with the premediated murder of a sex worker in the upper Rukon. He, like, beheaded her or some shit. It was pretty gnarly. It's a shame they didn't include pictures of the body though."

"Oh god, beheaded her?" Nanao squawked. "Wow. Y'know, those upper nobles got some sick bastards in their families."

"Yeah, but will he be charged?" Momo asked.

"I don't know. The investigator for the bulletin, I think her name is Misaki Tomushiya, last talked to the family a week before the bulletin was published. Your guess is as good as mine."

"I hope they charge that creep. I'm tired of boys like that getting away with everything. Why do they get to live comfortably when they terrorized some poor, innocent girl. That's not right," Nanao said.

"It's not, but..." Momo shrugged. "Let's be real for a minute. She's a sex worker. No one cares about sex workers. Everyone reveres the noble families, especially Central Forty-Six. He'll get away with it. I bet Central Forty-Six will even pay him for his trouble."

Nanao shuddered. "I hate to think about it like that."

"Unfortunately, that's reality."

"It is. It doesn't mean it's right. We need a judicial body that completely ignores class, gender, occupation, all that."

"Or make sure Central Forty-six has middle to lower class individuals in it so the rich won't be let off scott-free."

"That's if the poor folks of Central Forty-Six are unsympathetic to the rich. You come across virtual cults worshipping the Kuchiki and Shihouin especially," Rangiku chimed. "In the lower districts, they either love the rich or loathe them."

"I didn't think of it like that." Nanao frowned.

"Speaking of the rich, though.... Momo, I hate prying, but I've heard down the grapevine that you and Izuru are in a bit of a rough patch," Rangiku said.

Momo's heart fucking stopped. Oh god, was it so bad? Was she fooled again?

"Look... Shuuhei told me about the game and the porno thing with Izuru.... I'm worried about you, Momo," Rangiku explained. It cleared up her brooding episode at least. "I tried to ignore it, but you've been off for the last two weeks sweetie. I'm just super worried a-and I know it's not my business, but you're one of my best friends and I want you to be happy."

Momo sighed. "I don't know, Rangiku. It's all confusing. I'm trying to sort it all out, but it's so... messy."

"God, I'm so glad I'm lesbian," Nanao grumbled.

"Have you guys even fucking talked about it, Momo?"

"Well... no. I don't really want to talk about it. Every time I think about it, all those girls being tied up and---"

"Hey now... sweetie, you don't have to describe it. Just talk about it. Humor me, please. All I want is your happiness."

Momo's brow furrowed. "Okay. I'll talk to Izuru about the pornography."

"And you won't yell?"

"I won't yell. We'll talk like civil adults."

Rangiku embraced Momo. "I'm glad. I love you both so much."

"I love you too, Rangiku."

Momo hugged Nanao as well. "I didn't want to leave you out. You're an amazing friend, Nanao."

"I know, and I love you too. Will you help me put together wedding invitations tonight?"

"Of course. I'd love to. I just need to send a message to Izuru to let him know I'll be late tonight," Momo said.

"Thank you."

---

Momo returned to Izuru's barracks well after midnight. He worked at his desk with red ink and his student's poetry.

"Welcome home," he said with an audible smile. "I made miso soup for you. I hope it tastes alright. I can reheat it for you, if you like."

"Yes, please," Momo said. Her heart pounded as she sat at the dining table. "Rangiku advised me we needed to discuss the... the pornography," she said. “Can we talk?”

Izuru dropped his ladle. "Momo, I-I'm sorry. I promise I'm not looking at it. I just want you, I want to make you happy."

"I... I know. Just... let’s posture that I am enough for you emotionally and physically. Why did you have the pornography?"

“I…” Izuru swallowed nervously, “I like it because I hate myself. When I picture myself in these situations where I’m being smacked around, I feel less hollow because I have external pain to concentrate on,” he explained. “It was never about you. I just needed an escape.”

“Oh.” Like how Momo craved to be hit. “Why did you have pornography of it?”

“Well… there isn’t porn of men getting smacked around, so I have to resort to BDSM on women. There’s a weird crossover of sexual stimulation and self-injury.”

So it wasn’t that he wanted to make her into a blow up doll. Momo was enough, but Izuru was already in pain and she only made it worse. “Oh, Izuru.” Momo threw her arms around him. “Izuru, I’m so sorry. I never even imagined.” She was so sorry, her heart broke. Momo was so cruel to the people she was supposed to love. "I never meant to hurt you. I was blinded by panic. Please, can you forgive me?"

"I forgave you long ago, Momo. I can never stay angry you."

"I'm so glad," Momo said tearfully. "I love you, Izuru. More than I could have ever imagined loving Sousuke or any other man."

"And I have forever, and will always love you," Izuru said.

Momo couldn’t hold back her grin. She pulled Izuru into the bedroom, her supper forgotten, and she pushed him onto his back. "I'll make you feel so good tonight. Show you how much you mean to me."

"Holy shit," he cursed as she pushed open his top layers. "You are gorgeous, baby."

"Yeah?" Momo pulled down Izuru's hakama. "I'm gorgeous?"

"God, yes." Izuru squeezed her breasts. Momo shrugged off her top to give him better access to her chest. Breathlessly, he said as he played with her nipples, "please fuck me.... Punish me for keeping secrets."

Momo's mouth went dry. The power was magnificent. It flooded her loins like a warm tidal wave. "You want me to punish you?" she said. Her fingers wrapped around his windpipe like bird talons. "I'm gonna fuck you sore. I'll milk you for every drop you have."

He groaned. Momo pushed down his pants and licked his partial erection with her flat tongue. Izuru's hips rolled forward with hopes to push himself into her waiting mouth. She repeatedly licked the opening of his head. Momo wanted to build up before she altogether blew him. She wanted him to be right on the edge, she wanted him to hurt for her softness to surround him.

"You're a naughty creature," she cooed. She licked the underside of his scrotum, and up and up she went until she reached the tip, where she circled it. Momo returned to the base, where his balls met his hips, and lapped at the flesh.

"Yes," Izuru whined, "I'm so naughty. Please punish me."

Momo mercilessly pinched one of his nipples. "I’ll make you fucking hurt, baby."

"Thank you, Momo."

Momo swallowed his cock and sunk her teeth into his wood. He gasped and tensed from the neck down. It throbbed and twitched in her mouth. Up and down she went, her teeth grazed his flesh. Izuru couldn’t feel pain, but she could tell he was delighted by her administrations.

Her nails dug into his testicles. He sucked in air between his teeth and moaned. “Sweet god,” he whined. Momo pulled his hands into her hair. His fingers happily entangled in her loosened hair. She reached the head of his erection and bit down into his engorged flesh. With her teeth and her soft cheeks around him, the contrast must have been delightful for Izuru because he bit his lip to stifle his moans.

Momo moved town to swallow his testicles and stroked his wettened wood with her hand.

“M-Momo, I’m so close,” Izuru whined. Momo immediately pulled away and sat on his sto mach.

“Well, that’s too bad. I can’t have you coming when I’m not even finished with you yet." She pushed down her own pants and slid down his thickened mast. She rode him like a toy. He squirmed beneath her. Momo kept her promise. With her newfound power gone to her head, she withheld her orgasm to draw out his again and again. Izuru's eyes crossed, he could barely move.

When Momo couldn't draw another out, she pushed off of his cock and sat on his lips. She was surprised and delighted to find he still had the motivation to lap at her soaked vulva. He reached inside of her with his tongue and enthusiastically stroke that special place he played with draw every bit of misery out of her and let her know how much he loved her.

Momo combed her fingers through Izuru's hair and pulled him harder into her. "Fuck.... That's right. You're a good cum-gargler, baby. I love your mouth." His groan vibrated against her and she shuddered. "Baby, harder, I'm so close...."

His head shook back and forth to increase stimulation. It was incredibly efficient. Momo moaned and bit her lip in bliss. She came on his lips. He gripped himself and stroked himself, and he lapped and lapped as she came. He came again just after her, like her pleasure was his, and the thought made her heat travel from her loins to her chest.

Momo fell off Izuru. Izuru sleepily kissed her.

"Thank you, my love," Izuru said. "That was… wow. I knew you would make a fantastic dominant, but that was mind-blowing."

She smiled. "I'm glad I'm good for you, baby."

"You've always been great, Momo. Always."

Momo kissed Izuru's cheeks, and he rubbed his nose against her like a sweet little boy. Momo turned onto her other side so she could fit her back side against Izuru. He wordlessly cuddled her.

"I love you, Izuru," Momo said. Perhaps she loved him more after that stint. He trusted her so much, he loved her so much he wanted her to hurt him. Wanted her in a way where he was her toy one minute and her partner the next.

---

Momo felt different in the weeks that followed. Braver, happier, she dared to conceive. Momo had an outlet for her anger, Izuru had an outlet for his self-loathing, and they fit together like snug jigsaw pieces outside the bedroom. Momo couldn't contain the news from Rangiku, of course. It was all thanks to Rangiku that her and Izuru's relationship reached their newest high.

On weekends, Rangiku was easily found in gross, skeevy bars. She was in a pub which swam with tobacco smoke and the smell of vomit. Rangiku was at the bar with another woman from juuichibantai, and Momo sat next to her and waved down the bartender for a mojito.

"You're the last person I expected to see here. Delightful, don't get me wrong." Rangiku swept her into a hug. "This is my friend Satochi Ganbe. He's our newest seated officer."

Oh dear... a man with breasts. Momo should've known better than to guess. She needed to change the subject before she made a fool of herself.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Satochi. I trust you know me. I just needed to speak to Rangiku real quick, I'll be out of your guys' hair soon enough."

"Oh my god, is everything okay?" Rangiku asked.

"Of course. I just wanted to thank you for your advice a couple weeks ago. I know it's well overdue, but I wanted to make sure Izuru and I were... well, okay, I suppose." Momo smiled. "And we are. Really, we're better than ever. He seems comfortable too."

"Oh shit," Rangiku cursed. "Oh my god. Okay, we need to go outside. Uh, Satochi, can you just... just meet me back at mine and Nanao's?"

Satochi blinked like a cat. "Sure. I'll see you there, Rangiku," he said, and then downed his drink and left for the door. Rangiku and Momo waited a minute for Satochi to get some distance between them. Momo's heart pounded in the meantime. What the hell was the problem? Her and Izuru talked about the pornography. Their relationship was fantastic. Izuru promised there wasn't anything else he kept from her. Had he lied?

"Momo, please know that I love you and I love Izuru too, a-and this isn't my place to tell you, but... clearly you guys aren't being forthright. Has Izuru told you about Shuuhei and Abarai?" Rangiku said.

Her mouth went dry. "What about them?" she asked grimly. Momo's thoughts raced and yet she couldn't think of anything that had to do with them.

"Izuru is in love with them."

Izuru was in love with them. Izuru was in love with other people. People that weren't her. And he lied to her about it.

Momo fell against the bar's facade and dropped onto the packed dirt ground. She still wasn't enough. She gave him love, and that wasn't enough. He had to resort to pornography to please himself. She gave him her domination in the bedroom, and that wasn't enough either because he was in love with other people.

Momo wasn't enough to keep Sousuke.

Momo wasn't enough to keep Izuru.

Momo wasn't enough to keep anyone.

"Sweetie, I know this is just... awful. He should have told you. But you're my friend, I-I couldn't keep the wool over your eyes too," Rangiku said.

"Is he fucking them?" Momo asked.

"No. They know how he feels, but they haven’t acted on anything."

Momo felt like her heart was scooped out like she scooped seeds out of a gourd. Her head was so foggy. She was duped again. Momo was duped again and she felt so stupid. She didn't want to feel anymore.

"I want to go home," she said. She just wanted to go home and draw, anything to get her mind off the news.

"Okay. I'll get you home, sweetie."

Rangiku helped Momo to her feet. She couldn't remember the walk back to her barracks. All she remembered was Izuru was on the couch with a book and she just felt dead inside.

"Was I not enough?" Momo asked. "Is that why you're in love with Shuuhei and Renji?"

Izuru was very much dead. Nonetheless, Momo could almost see him blanch like she caught him red-handed. "Rangiku, you told her?" he said indignantly. "I told you that in confidence!"

"And you haven't told your fucking girlfriend. What did you expect from me? She's my friend too. I-I can't just stand idly by while you fucking lie to her."

"We haven't done anything!" Izuru spat. "Please, Momo, you have to believe me. I love you so much. I know I've made mistakes, but you keep me on the straight and narrow path. All I want is you."

Momo refused to be fooled again. Izuru was like Sousuke, pathological. Everything that came out of his mouth, however sweet, however much Momo yearned to have faith in him, it was a blatant lie. It tainted every memory. Every time Momo kissed Izuru, every meal they shared, every time they slept together, every time they made love. It was all a lie.

"I can't believe you. Do you think I'm a fucking moron? A fucking thing you can just play with?"

"No, not in a million years, Momo. Never. You are everything. God, you are the very reason I get up in the morning anymore. Yes, I’m in love with Shuuhei and Renji, but I was so drunk and it just slipped out. I promise I was trying to tell you, I just couldn’t find how."

"Get out," Momo said. "I can't bear to listen to your drivel anymore. Get the fuck out."

Izuru stood statuesque with his eyes wide open and his mouth agape. It was like something was caught in his throat; tears, a plea to let him stay. But he said nothing, and he could no longer cry.

"I'll get my things tomorrow morning," he croaked. And then he left. His footsteps didn't make a sound as he walked out the front door.

Momo hobbled to her easel. She sat on her legs, she picked up a stick of pink chalk, and she scribbled some kind of flower on the coarse paper. The sound of the universe completely escaped Momo. Anything she could have felt walked out the door with Izuru.

"Momo... is this really the time to draw?" she asked. "Please, come sit with me.... I'll call Nanao over. We'll stay here tonight."

"I'd like for you to go home," Momo replied. "I would rather be on my own."

“Momo---”

“Rangiku, please. Just… go. I don’t want to be around anyone right now.”

Rangiku waited only a moment before she left too, with a sniffle that rang in Momo’s ears.

#bleach #bleachbigbang2019 #renshuukirahina #momo hinamori #izuru kira #rangiku matsumoto #nanao ise #shinji hirako #rannao #shinigami karin au

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