#So it's bittersweet I guess | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

coffehbeans · 7 months

Text

Prompts 35 and 70: Sleepover and Snacks

Masterpost of Stories (92 Prompts)

Talking about fluffy g/t scenarios turned into angst, have my writing after two months of nothing ashaush featuring characters from this future story that I hope to turn into a book one day.

As always, feedback appreciated! This one was challenging with the dialogues and I'm not a native English speaker, so if something's unnatural, please lemme know.

Synopsis: After losing most of his friends when he got diagnosed with hyperon syndrome, Ethan relies on the two that haven't left his side. But a relaxing sleepover turned-wrong puts their friendship to the test.

.....................................

Nothing had to change. That's what Ethan thought when he returned to university, one week after being diagnosed. Yeah, he did have twenty-or-so less friends than usual, after growing four feet in a week and all that, but who wouldn't? People with hyperon were feared, that's a natural reaction. He used to fear them before as well. Before he started to become one of them. There's a stinging pain that pang in his chest sometimes, though. It happened every day when the class ended. Ethan yawned as the class ended, shaking off his sleepiness. He sat on the floor, as he could not fit in a chair, and took notes in a tiny, to him, notebook as he left the brown curls of his hair cover his face and shield him away from the others' gazes. He waited for all the students to leave, focusing his hazel eyes on his lecture notes. It's best this way. He never was the tallest before the mutation, so he used to be one of the first to leave class with friends, but now... It felt too weird. Too much, he realized, as his presence was enough to scare people, since he loomed over everyone, covering them with his shadow. That feeling, of accidentally intimidating someone... He hated it. So it was best to wait for all of them to leave.

…

When the teacher dismissed them, Ethan sprung up from his seat after diligently taking notes of constitutional law class. He'd be a great public defender after all, his scores had to be top notch. Forgetting all about it for now, he rushed to one of his friends, patting him on his shoulder. "Let's grab a bite to eat, I'm starving!" His friend chuckled while the others joined in. "Finally someone got their ass out of the seat." "We had to wait ten minutes this time." another friend groaned, but her smile showed the complaint wasn't serious. "Quick, let's get him outta here before he decides to ask the teacher something." Another friend said as he shoved Ethan towards the door." "H-hey! I'm not gonna ask anything! Not this time, at least." He chuckled. And the group of friends walked together to the food hall, telling whatever came up in their minds.

… Ethan glanced up at those same friends, taking his eyes out of the notebook. ‘Amanda, Carson, Thomas...’ Through that moment frozen in time, their eyes met. Ethan put on a friendly smile and waved at them. Those three darted their gaze away, rushing through the crowd of students and out of the classroom. Ethan's wave froze in place, and he slowly retracted them back, heart sinking. His smile waned. ‘It's okay.' he thought. 'They're scared. It's normal that they'd be.' But still... Yeah. Ethan couldn't figure out a way for this to stop hurting. Ignoring the familiar pain, he got up, the ground getting far away under his feet as he rose to his full 12 feet stature. Was the ground even further this time? Has he grown again since yesterday? Probably. He won't think about it. Ethan was an imposing-looking man. After being diagnosed, his physique changed, along with his stature, in order to adapt to the increased mass. Naturally, he got stronger. Ethan already had an athletic build before, being part of the basketball team and all that. But now? It was too much. He was too much and he hated every part of it. Even hiding his body under his clothes, he still looked as bulky and broad as a heavylifter, the countour of his prominent muscles hinted beneath the cloth. And although his square face remained the same with his friendly, round eyes and his charming smile, the sheer thickness of his neck contrasted with his amicable expression. In short, although Ethan hasn't changed his personality at all, and he knew of this fact, it clashed so heavily with his new, intimidating body that most people preferred to not give him the benefit of the doubt. Ethan could understand that, he's been avoiding the mirror for a good few days now. And the added feet in height didn't help. In fact, the extra inches would not stop anytime soon.

Ethan ducked through the ten feet tall classroom door. The university prepared a pretty big door for him, but he saw himself having to duck more and more through the doorframe as days pass. He walked through the college corridors, looking at the ground and watching his step. From the corner of his eye, he spotted a few scared or shocked faces turn to him only to walk further away, ‘away from the monster’, he supposed. 'I'll get used to this.' He repeated this mantra in his head, over and over, but it was getting harder and harder to believe in it. Ethan took slow steps, one at a time, hands in his hoodie pockets. Heel first, then the rest of the foot, one after the other. He continued those steps until he reached the food hall. As he entered it, some tables turned empty when people fled in silence upon seeing his towering form, taller than a garage door. Sure, he could understand their reasoning. But really, do they think he's a high school bully that will crush their skulls if they don't lend him a seat, or something? Whatever. He won't stay long in there, anyway. He doesn't want to bother people. Last time he ate at the food hall, only nine feet back then, people would gawk at him when he ate his mountain of food. To call that experience uncomfortable was an understatement. Every day has been an embarrassing experience. His thoughts were, thankfully, cut short when Ethan saw two familiar faces. They waved at him, and he smiled back at then. At least he had Zora and Seb. Seb treated Ethan the same. He assured Ethan, again and again after he met Ethan at his new stature, that he was not scared. But the plump brunette also acted the part, remaining relaxed, hands in pockets as he addressed Ethan with the same chill look he always had. Seb had to look much, much more up at him now but, other than that, nothing changed, and Ethan's size wouldn't provoke a gasp of fear from his friend. He appreciated that. He really did.

Zora treated Ethan the same. But her case happened a bit differently. Well, it's fair she'd react the way she did: curious. The long haired Biotechnology student had a instigative nature. Zora asked him questions if she saw Ethan was comfortable to answer then, about how it felt to have the worldwide-feared hyperon syndrome, and if he got injured during his growth spurts. But aside from that, no flinch, no jolt, no trembling at his sight. On the contrary, she'd remain short tempered, climbing the big guy to yell at his face: "stop hating yourself, you dumbass", whenever Ethan distanced himself from them out of insecurity. When she scolded him, it looked way more comical than it should've been, as her 5 feet stature in comparison to his 12 feet one caused the size difference between the two friends to be the most extreme. Zora made Ethan feel too tall, but at the same time, it was as if nothing had changed between their friendship.

They really cared. "Hey." Zora called for Ethan in the distance. "How's it going?" Seb's much quieter voice followed. Both him and Zora got up, walking towards Ethan with no hesitation at all. "Hey guys." Ethan flashed his signature dimpled smile. One he used to show all the time to everyone. One he only shows now to these two. He appreciated them more than his "thanks" could ever achieve to say. Ethan wished for their friendship to remain like this, the same before the syndrome, the same after. They were the only friends left. And that's all he needed.

...

"You guys should swing by my place tomorrow." - Zora started after they met up and left the food hall, to Ethan's relief. The outside part of the campus was open, not cramped, and he appreciated the lack of scared eyes. Even though the sight of him walking way slower than his two friends, who barely measured up to his thigh, looked strange to random bystanders. "Ya know, seizing the moment and all that. You should totally come." "It's midterms though. Why now?" Seb, the introvert, chimed in. "Ugh, don't be a buzzkill. Besides, I just got the PS6 and I need some test subjects." "What time will it be?” Seb changed his mind in an instant. The latest game console with the best graphics. No way he'd miss that. "What about you, Ethan? Friday night at my place?" Ethan came back from spacing out, stopping mid-yawning, and looked down, way down at Zora's short stature. He's spacing out a lot, he noticed. Maybe because that conversation reminded him of when he had something to do every week, going out to party and de stress after a stressful college test week at his Law major. He'd go to different houses, from different friends, or they'd all hang out together, Seb and Zora included. Drink, eat good stuff, dance. Ethan would talk to people until his throat went dry and he'd quench his thirst with beer untill he'd forget it all. As if he needed any drinks to be talkative, always laughing and bringing people along the conversation with his stories. People used to call him "life of the party" and he'd proudly admit it as true.

"Look who it is!" "If it isn't my best buddy Ethan!" He came running to them and tackled one of his friends in an aggressive hug.

"Aw, you miss me way too much, man!" "How was the game today?" "Scored." Him and his group of friends cheered in unison. "But wait, hear me out. You guys won't believe what happened till that match." And Ethan went on and on, while the friends who also played that basketball match added some details to the story. The rest of the group laughed in unison at the random antics Ethan told. … That's usually how Ethan would arrive at the place. Looking at himself now, he barely recognized himself. That confident, outspoken guy turned aloof and often quiet, his mind always drifting somewhere else, towards anywhere but the reality. "Hey! Earth to Ethan!" He blinked and looked down, way down at Zora. "Right. Um, sorry. Friday night at your place? Can't make it." "Why not?" Seb and Zora asked in unison, the latter raising an eyebrow. "Well, it's your house. Ceilings are low, all that. I don't wanna accidentally break stuff." He let out a lame chuckle. "Dude, seriously? You don't remember Zora's place?" "Yeah that's right. My house could fit two of you on top of eachother!" Zora teased as she pointed at Ethan. Ethan winced. House was an understatement, that place was a mansion. Ethan always was terrible at coming up with excuses, and now he had no more of them. "I don't know, guys. I just don't think it's safe." Seb sighed and looked to his side, while Zora groaned at Ethan. "Oh c'mon, we don't have all the time in the world. What if we won't get to hang out like this anymore? Carpe diem and all that, you know?" "Though 'carpe diem' at my house doing nothing sounds just as good." - Seb added. Zora nudged him to shut up, earning a laugh from their much taller friend. 'Zora's right', Ethan thought. He knew too well the weight of those words. Every day that passed, he felt new pain under his skin, in his muscles, his joints. And when he felt pain, he knew he'd gotten taller. And stronger. And broader. And too big and intimidating for his taste. The city got less and less adequate for him by the day, and Ethan knew that soon he would not be allowed inside the safe borders of Steelfort anymore.

And that soon he'd be as big as the other 130-feet-tall, unfortunate souls, that also got cursed with the blasted syndrome and that now roamed the wastelands outside of the city bounds. 'One month before they scort you out.' One month. His doctor's words echoed in his head. "I mean, that'd be great, I really think so. But..." - Ethan paused when he heard his voice too loud again. He can't get used to the deeper tone of voice coming from his mouth. He turned towards Zora as she cocked an eyebrow at him "I reaaally don't want to stomp around and accidentally break stuff at your house." "Cut the crap, Ethan." - Zora snorted. - "You're probably the most careful mutant in this town." "Maybe even the most careful in America." - Seb said. - "Remember that time when we saw him walking down the corridor and someone tripped next to him, and he apologized over and over thinking it was him who made her fall?" Zora chuckled. "The girl was at the opposite side of the corridor, and even then you somehow still thought you stomped too hard or something. Honestly, Ethan, you're just a big softie." Ethan chuckled. How could he even go against these guys? "Alright, alright. I... I can make it." "Then I'll see y'all at my place this Friday, at eight." "Why so late though." Seb protested. "Quit being an old man." Zora retorted.

... Dusk had come to the neighborhood as the sun shone its last rays on the wide sidewalk. Ethan shook his doziness off with a yawn, as he treaded the fragile pavement with slow steps, flinching when he heard a louder thud than usual. It compared to walking on eggshells. He supposed he could walk faster, after all he's not big enough to destroy a sturdy sidewalk yet, but the significant amount of people walking, or rather, rushing past him indicated otherwise. He had to be careful. Being big also meant being prone to stumble, and if he so as much as hit someone accidentally, his days inside Steelfort would be over. And he'd never see his mom and friends again. Ignoring the chills crawling down his spine, Ethan walked painfully slow until the crowd dwindled. Relieved, he picked up his pace. Hyperon individuals can't take any form of transport, so he had to walk to his destination, which was a long trek, even for him. By the time he arrived at Zora's house, the sun had long set. And wow, what a house that was. It was sleek, with sharp angles, towering and grand. Pillars of marble adorned its extravagant front wall. Ethan whistled at the sight. He now knew why Zora told him not to worry, the ceiling of the first floor looked taller than his 12 feet tall self. That, was impressive.

The second floor, from what he could see outside, had a much shorter ceiling, but it still added to the house's impressive height. The front of the house had a monumental, luxurious wooden door, adorning its limestone grey walls. Ethan reached for the door, and sighed. No matter his worries, he agreed to go, after all. There was no going back now. He extended the tip of his pinky finger and gently, slowly, tapped the ring bell. He hoped he hadn't broken it by accident. Three seconds later and he heard the pitter patter of Zora's tiny footsteps. She opened the door and he backed away, allowing her to crane her neck to glance up at him. "Finally. You’ve arrived just in time to see Seb absolutely failing at this game." "Hey!" Seb's muted voice echoed lightly through the room. Probably the loudest voice Ethan heard from him in the three years they knew each other. "Must be a hard game he's playing." He smirked. "Yeah, right. He doesn't know the difficulty is set on easy." Zora's grin widened. "Anyway, come in." After going through the doorframe, Zora led Ethan to the living room. It was spacious, with a open layout that merged the dinner room and the actual living room. In it, there was a large, rectangular sofa, a fluffy carpet, and a 72 inch ultra-wide TV, in which a grim-looking FPS game was playing, with Seb's back turned to Ethan. The frantic pressing of controller buttons and the violent gunshots from the game were the only background sounds of the room. Upon the screen changing to a red "Game Over", however, Seb turned to his friend.

"What's up, big guy." "The ceiling, I guess." Ethan grinned, and Zora groaned at the awful pun. He sat crisscross in front of the sofa, on which Seb was sitting, both facing towards the TV screen. "Heard you're showing your pro-player skills at the new console." He said with sarcasm. "Shut up." Seb kicked Ethan's left arm with a smile on his face. Zora disappeared at the kitchen, picking a drink and chips for herself, while Seb tried yet another failing match, with Ethan teasing him and his poor gaming abilities. After a while, Zora set her stuff on the ground table in front of the sofa, while Seb paused the game to pick a drink for himself. They spent the next hours like this, drinking soda and eating snacks, most of which Ethan had paid, since he knew he'd consume much more than both of his friends combined. They brought over some chips and popcorn, Zora and Seb playing competitive games while Ethan cheered on whoever was winning. Both were utterly terrible at it.

Maybe if he could still play games, he'd teach them a thing or two of its mechanics, but his hands already got too big for the controller. After a while they chose an action movie to watch, for which Zora turned the lights off, and before they knew it, midnight had arrived. Ethan's eyes tried hard not to close. He felt sleepy, too sleepy. The movie was heavy-paced, and he had a good last night of sleep so, why couldn't he keep his eyes open? "Hey, you can get comfortable, you know?" - Zora said, noticing Ethan was hunched over. - "You're in the same position for hours now, I can push the sofa a little so you can lie down." "Ah, don't worry, it's ok-" "Dude. Don't worry. It's no problem at all." She got up and started pushing the sofa away, to which Ethan helped her with much ease. She also moved, with Seb's help, the ground table further away from them. "Won't your parents be mad that you changed stuff around?" Seb teased "Wait, so there was a problem after all?" "They won't arrive till next week. I'll move the stuff back tomorrow. Simple." "What the eyes don't see, the heart won't feel." Seb replied. Later on, Ethan laid down on his side, facing towards the action movie in front of them. That position was better. Although, he was sure he'd fall asleep now. Was he tired from class? He still didn't get it. Usually, he has less energy than normal with his condition, but this was far too much- Wait. His stomach sank. Had he forgotten to drink his pills? His heart raced against his ribcage. No, he remembers taking it after lunch. It was okay. He was okay. The symptoms were controlled, and there was no major growth spurt predicted for the week. He took a deep breath and sighed.

He'd be okay. -than? Ethan?" He snapped back to reality to Zora's calls for him. "Falling asleep already?" Seb grinned at him. "Ah, Sorry. Got distracted a bit. What is it?" "Well, I was just suggesting Seb that we use you as a human cushion." "Oh. Wait. What?" "Yeah, what she said." - Seb replied. "You see, the sofa is far away, and you happen to have much more space that it anyway, so..." "Be our backrest for a while, will ya?" "Um... Sure, I don't mind."

...

Zora and Seb laid their backs against Ethan, in front of his chest. That was... Weird. But he supposed he shouldn't feel that way. It's just weird when not long ago the three would each sit at a corner of the sofa, with a bit of space left. And now he was the "sofa substitute" instead. But still, Ethan had to admit, seeing his two friends so small and huddled up in front of him was kinda adorable. He contained an amused smile, and they kept watching the movie, laughing and saying a snarky remark here and there about its comically horrible plot. It didn't take long for the three to fall asleep, Ethan's friends unconsciously leaning back against him and using him as a pillow. They slept like that peacefully for the remainder of the night.

...

Ethan opened his eyes to the sight of a square, closed-off room. No windows, no doors, only the grey walls and the suffocating smell of mold. His heart started to beat fast. 'It was that nightmare again', his subconscious said, but Ethan himself had little to no awareness of it. He looked down at his hands, noticing his appearance. He was back to his original shape. Skinnier, shorter, as if no hyperon had taken hold of his body. Yet, he couldn't find relief in this, a sense of dread washing over him. His breathing became labored by the second. 'Where the hell am I?' He thought. His eyes darted around the place as he twisted his head around, searching for an exit. No matter what, he had to leave that place. He had to. If he did, he'd be free. He would- A deafening rumble of the walls shook Ethan to his core. Realization hit him, eyes widening. The walls started to move, closing in on him. Ethan gasped, darting to the nearest wall and banging against the concrete until blood dripped from his knuckles. Out. He had to get out. He had to leave. 'Please, please-!' he begged in vain as the room moved further towards him. The ceiling lowered as well, brushing against his head and forcing Ethan to crouch and shield himself with his arms. He hyperventilated, pushing in vain the walls that ate away at the leftover space. Widened eyes, racing heart, stomach sinking to the bottom and he'd die, he'd die, he would- When the walls, the floor, the ceiling, everything started pressing against him Ethan let out a blood curling scream, gritting his teeth as he heard and felt the cracking of the walls against his skin.

...

Zora awakened to the sound of trees uprooting from the soil. Wait. Wasn't she inside? There were no trees where she fell asleep. The feeling of something pushing against her back jostled her awake. She opened her eyes, only to widen them when she noticed how much closer to the television she was. The ever-present sound of trees uprooting and rubber bands snapping filled the room.

As well as the pained grunts and shivers of a sleeping Ethan.

Her heart fell, deducing what could most likely be happening at that moment. Sitting up on the carpet, she slowly turned to her right. A hand on the carpet twitched as its fingers extended upwards, bones cracking as it did so. A mound of flesh lumped and pulsated under the stretching skin. Chills crawled up her spine. Shaking, she turned around. Her friend was growing at a rapid pace right in front of her. And he was not awake, shifting in a disturbed sleep. She shot a glance at Seb, who was still asleep, settled in a tricky position between Ethan's arm and his torso. If he stayed there while Ethan grew, Seb would... She rushed to him and shook her friend under the expanding arm. "Seb. Seb, wake up! Quick!" "Ugh. Whaat isss it..?" He replied sleepily. "Get away from here. Ethan is-" she hissed. Seb noticed movement around him, the space becoming cramped and warm, and jostled awake, scrambling away from the once-comfortable spot. The two friends watched Ethan for that split second, struck by shock. Ethan closed in the space between them and the TV as he expanded. The floor groaned under him and it wouldn't be long until his back crushed the sofa behind them and the table on his side. Zora was the first to break from the stupor, rushing towards Ethan's face and smacking it with her trembling hands. "Ethan. Ethan! Wake up! You idiot!" Her insult had no meaning under her worried, shaky voice. Seb broke from his shock a while after, approaching Ethan as his friend still didn't manage to wake him up, with Ethan tossing and turning as if he was having a nightmare. There was a risk those heavy arms would hit them while he's unconscious. Seb halted in thought. How to even wake up a giant? And there was the danger of him accidentally hurting them in a fright, too. But…

‘I have no other choice.’ Seb approached Ethan's ear, knowing very well the danger of it as Zora looked at him with widened eyes. And Seb screamed from the top of his lungs. "ETHAN! WAKE UP!" He jolted awake with a huge gasp, rising into a seating position so fast his arm collided against Seb, throwing him over the sofa and to the ground. Ethan gasped while Zora ran towards Seb with a frantic voice. "What's. What's happening...!" Ethan looked down at his hands. Cracking. Expanding. His stomach dropped to the ground.

‘No.’ He looked down at his friends who looked horribly terrified. No. Nononono. He scrambled away from them in fright, only to accidentally support his enlarging hand on the sofa, breaking it in half. He looked back at it. Heartbeat faster. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe.

This was a dream. This was a nightmare. It wasn't real. It can’t be!

Panicked, he scrambled further and further away from the paralyzed friends. Their faces pale, widened, worried eyes. But most of all. Scared. His remaining friends were scared of him. Ethan groaned when he felt pain surging through his body as he grew more. He aimed for the opposite side of the room, crawling backwards until he reached the door for the courtyard. He slid it open, breaking more furniture in the process, and squeezed his enlarging body through the doorframe until he left the house and stopped it from collapsing. Once over the spacious backyard, only the sound of his own bones snapping could be heard. His frantic heartbeat and his gasps added to the cacophony of noises, until the sounds of his growth spurt subsided. Ethan was left exhausted, lying down on the grass and gasping for breath, parts of his clothing completely ripped apart like he's a freak show. …

His ears buzzed at the doctor's diagnosis. His mother, Helena, held his oversized hand with her shaking ones. "The exams confirmed it, but it was clear to us before: it's Hyperon syndrome." The female doctor stated in a professional tone. Helena suppressed sucked in a breath, holding back her tears. She strengthened her grip on Ethan's hand. Ethan looked at the doctor in disbelief, reality not yet sinking in. A delusional part of his mind kept affirming it wasn't the syndrome, just a normal growth spurt, even when at that night his body changed so painfully and so drastically and the bones protruding from his skin and the muscles tearing through his clothes and- None of that was real, right? It must've been a joke destiny played on him. It can't be. It won't be. Any moment and he'll wake up, he had to- He had a basketball match to win next week, Carson would make a birthday party tomorrow, he had a criminal law test to pass. He'd be a public defender one day. Damn it! He couldn't just be diagnosed with an incurable mutation that turned him into, into a... "The good news is that his growth is not the instant type, otherwise his chances of survival would be slim." The doctor continued informing Ethan and his mom, the former half-listening, half-drowning in the sound of his own racing heartbeat, waiting, praying, begging for the moment he'd wake up.

"The bad news is that it's not the slow type of growth either. His type of hyperon is harder to predict as each growth spurt vary in amount and frequency." Helena glanced up at her son with worried creases on her eyes, noticing how out of it he seemed. Yet the doctor continued, looking up at Ethan's distraught face with a composed expression. "I give him around one to two months before he's 20 feet tall." “20 feet?!" - Helena reacted. "We need to begin treatment as soon as possible in order to reduce any painful side effects of your growth." This was not a nightmare. It was real. It was happening. To him. A void formed in his heart. And his mom couldn't contain her tears any longer. “I'm really sorry, Mr. Greenwood."

…

He was curled up on his side, a ringing sound in his ears, the frantic heartbeat in his chest, and the sore throb under all his muscles. Tears gathered in his eyes as he gritted his teeth. His friends. They must be terrified of him now. No. They must have run away from here already, to alert the police officers that another hyperon host had grown uncontrollably inside the house, breaking everything in it. It was what he deserved. He destroyed his friend's home. He broke the furniture. He almost hurt them. Heck, wasn't that Seb who he threw off him when he awoke? Was he even alright?? No, he was hurt, that must've hurt him. They were having such a great moment too, enjoying each other's company. Having fun. And he ruined it. It was his fault. Ethan rose to a sitting position, hugging his knees and attempting to take deep breaths. If he panicked, it would only make things worse. The worst thing than a giant monstrosity, was a giant monstrosity that didn't act rationally. Deep breaths. In and out, in out in out in out- "... Ethan...?" A feminine voice coming from inside the house jolted him from his panic and he looked up, incredulous. Zora and Seb were standing just by the doorframe, looking at him with worried, but afraid eyes. "You guys..." Ethan's voice was all but a whisper. Shame attempted to take over him. He hugged his exposed stomach and crawled even further away, trembling from head to toe, looking much more scared than they did.

From Zora and Seb's point of view, they never saw their friend so vulnerable. From his curled-up position, the grown 22-year-old man looked like a kid scared of the monster under their bed. Ethan was the first to break the stifling silence. "It's... It's not safe here. You should go to the nearest police station and tell the incident. They..." He gulped down his trembling voice. "they'll find a way to get me out of here for your safety. And..." He looked at Seb who still wore a pained expression on his face, most likely from his injuries. "They'll give Seb medical treatment." "Hey. I'm fine." Seb interjected. "…Doesn't seem like it to me." "Ethan, look." Zora chimed in, approaching him slowly. Her steps still shook a little. Dang it, if only she could control her shock. But how would she even lie about being calm? She isn't. The living room is all over the place and she saw her friend fill up the room in minutes and almost crush Seb. She. Was not. Calm. But Zora knew Ethan thought of all of this. Ethan dreaded this happening since the beginning, she was the one who convinced him to come to her house. And heck, she knew she had made the right call. So she stepped forward, leaving Seb to lean on the glass door and pretend that he wasn't with sore ribs. "Look. I know what you're thinking. You're probably on a load of self - hating bullshit right now but, it's not your fault, okay? I'm fine, we're fine. See?" She walked closer and closer to her friend who, while sitting down, towered over her by what she guessed was 10 feet. She clenched her teeth. Crap, he got big. So that's how hyperon-affected people all turned out? So monumental... No, even worse than that.

Ethan finally looked down at Zora with a hollow expression on his face. He reached out for her with a hand and- She flinched and backed away. He knew it. He fucked up so badly. "Damn it! Warn a soul!" - Zora hissed. She knew her facade fell down right at that instant. Ethan sighed loudly and looked at her with the most crestfallen expression she saw her friend ever making. Hopeless. The face of someone who thought he made a grave mistake. Zora knew that was not the truth and she had to convince him it wasn't. But the instinctive part of her certainly wasn't helping with the whole "don't feel like a monster" spiel. She cursed under her breath. But Ethan said nothing. He just looked at her with those dejected eyes. Like all hope had been drained. Like he was losing both of his friends on that day. And Zora had, no, she needed desperately to convince him it wasn't the case. Because it truly, faithfully, wasn't. She opened her mouth to say something, but Ethan looked at Seb and spoke before she could. "How... How bad is it? Something's broken?" He attempted to even out his voice but it came out trembling and faint. Seb sighed. He knew that Ethan would not fall for his and Zora's trick at pretending everything was fine. It wasn't. And it's about time they're 100% honest about it. So Seb walked forward, as Zora looked back at him with an expression that screamed ‘don't tell a thing.’ "It's sore all over, yeah, but no ribs broken, I think" - he limped towards the looming figure of his friend, grunting from the effort." - everything hurts but, not in a unbearable way. Might get a purple spot here and there though." With both of his friends now close to him, Ethan could properly look at them. They looked so, so small now. Much smaller than before. He wanted nothing more than them to treat him like everyone else treated him. At least that way, they wouldn't be hurt. A knot clogged in his throat and his stomach twisted and turned at the realization. There was no going back. This was real. It was happening to him. His previously happy, fulfilling life was running out, scurrying through his fingers. "I really... Really screwed things up, didn't I?" - his voice turned grave and faint, and Ethan hung his head low. He took in a shaky breath - "I... I don't mind if you guys don't want to stick around me from here on out." "Ethan." - Seb, surprisingly, spoke up first. - “Not gonna lie. You scared the shit out of me back then." He walked closer to Ethan, shortening the distance between them. "But that's all there is to it, it was a scare. None of us were in control of the situation at that moment, that includes you." "And, and also, we got scared of what was happening, but that doesn't mean we're scared of you, you know?" - Zora interjected, seeing the perfect opportunity to make Ethan understand her point. "Yeah. So like she said, no self-loathing okay?"

Ethan felt like crying right then and there. How did these guys even manage to walk up to him like that? And say all those things, and choose to remain there with him? He couldn't understand it. But oh, was he so, so grateful for that. Even though inside he thought he would burst into tears, Ethan only gave a sad smile to them, softening his eyes as they pooled with tears. "You both are crazy, do you know that?" Seb laughed. "Of course that's what you'd say." Zora pouted, a sad glint behind her eyes. "Last night... It was really fun. Thank you. I just don't think my size will allow for it to happen again, though." "Hey, in the end Zora made the right call." "It's just like I said before." - she rolled her eyes. - "Seize the opportunity, and all that." 'Because it was my last.' Ethan painfully remarked in his head.

#guyss it was so hard to post this cause tumblr wasn't processing it at all #i guess because it's a big piece of writing?#but yeah it's quite long so idk if people will read this one but enjoy #coffeh writes #g/t #giant/tiny #sfw g/t #g/t writing #g/t story #g/t hurt and comfort #g/t angst #bittersweet my beloved #oc: ethan #oc: zora #oc: seb #oc: helena #more about them in the future hopefully

56 notes · View notes

rays-of-fire-and-ice · 4 months

Text

For What the Future Holds

Prompt: forgiveness

Rating: K/General with mild themes

Setting: Starts Ichigo defeats Yhwach, continues into the very beginning of the ten year time skip. There’s also flashbacks to Toshiro and Momo's past dotted throughout.

Synopsis: Momo notices Toshiro is acting out of sorts ever since the war against the Quincy ended. Meanwhile, Toshiro tries to look to the future.

AN: It’s finally DONE!!

I had the idea for this ages ago (around the time of Horizons, which is why they have a similar structure as you’ll see), but it wasn’t until the 'forgiveness' prompt for the @yearoftheotpevent came up that I finally sat down and wrote it out. It didn't turn out to be the main or overarching theme and the fic itself turned into quite the emotional piece to write ^^;

This was also partly written in light of my headcanon becoming canon! I was aware of the question from Klub Outside a long time ago, but Kubo has confirmed Toshiro and Momo were neighbours rather than living under the same roof, which has always been the scenario I saw for them when I was reading BLEACH and writing fic.

Finally, this fic also has a flashback that slightly ties into When the Souls Sleep and the World is Our Own, but only in that it was a deleted scene and I found a way to include it here instead. You don’t have to read that fic to understand what happens in that scene, just that the setting is not long after they met.

Anyhow, I hope you all enjoy it!

____________________________

“I should’ve told you about it earlier.”

Momo blinks, both at the quietness of Toshiro’s voice and the bowing of his head in her peripheral. She raises her gaze to his face from the now healed over wound on his arm, cancelling the kido as she shifts over to sit next to him. “Told me about what?”

He rolls the tattered sleeve down. He contemplates what to say, staring down at his lap. Behind him, Hyourinmaru’s hilt glints, and beyond, Shinji and Kyouraku watch over those they’d dug out from the ruins earlier. Next to them, Nanao is communicating with someone in the Seireitei – Iemura, Momo suspects – trying to coordinate transportation for the injured, and Isane, bandaged up and still recovering from her own injuries, heals Aikawa. Far away at the Reio’s Palace, she can sense Rukia about to be reunited with her brother.

“That form is why I was training in the caves,” Toshiro says, diverting Momo’s attention back to him. “I should’ve told you about it sooner.

“You mean Hyourinmaru’s Completed Form?”

He nods.

Was that all? She thinks to tease him, to make light of something he seems to be treating with more seriousness than needed, but she halts at his gaze. It’s not the usual icy, determined one she’s used to.

He’s tired – and who could blame him after what they’d gone through? – and it makes him look vulnerable. Something trembles within him, something he’d likely keep hidden behind many walls.

She offers a sympathetic smile. “Why would you need to tell me about it?”

“The way you reacted before…you were startled. If you’d known before, it wouldn’t have been as much of a shock. I apologise.”

It’s true, she’d been stunned, had even flinched with a loud gasp when she first saw him, and was perhaps even a little frightened. She’d stood there, mouth agape and speechless, unable to take her eyes away from him, even as her captain swore and asked who he was. She hadn’t known how else to react, but later as he motioned her towards a piece of rubble to sit on as he explained how he had somehow become an adult, the shock wore off.

She had to resist the urge to hug him out of sheer relief, this was not the time or place for such high emotions. So she’d gotten to work on healing his wounds after he’d transformed back – but only after the others had been found and pulled out from under the rubble.

“It’s all right,” she reassures. “It was startling, yes, but I knew it was you. It was incredible, actually, but also not too surprising now that I know what it is."

He’s stunned, but hides it quickly with a clearing his throat and a deepened frown. “How so?”

“I didn’t see all of the battle you and Captain Kuchiki did with the Quincy, but what I did see was amazing. You froze the Quincy’s shield in mid-air, within a second. A-And then you froze the Quincy completely! I thought for sure he was defeated then, truly.”

He nods to himself, remembering. “So did I. He gave us more than we bargained for in the end.”

“At least he’s gone.” Momo sighs, and with it, a weight is released. “At least…it’s over.” It’s like a vice has loosened around her head and chest. She lets out a shuddering breath and her eyes become watery. “We’re okay, now.”

“We’ll have a lot to do when we get back, it’s not…” Toshiro trails off when he meets her gaze again. His hand twitches at his side, clearly resisting moving it. After a beat, his lips shape into a faint smile and he let’s out a short, tired chuckle. “You gonna cry, bed-wetter?”

She can’t even be mad at the nickname, she becoming too overwhelmed. “No, it’s not the time and place to.” Even as she says this, she’s furiously wiping her eyes on her sleeve.

He shrugs. “No one would blame you.”

“But it’s like you said, we need to focus on the task at hand.” She gestures to the others a short distance away. “On transporting the injured back and figuring out what our next steps are.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” His smile widens a fraction. “I won’t tell anyone.”

Despite herself, she can’t help but grin back. She sniffs and looks down. “I’m just so glad it’s over.”

He only nods with a hum.

A silence passes between them, and Momo slowly realises her own exhaustion. She has enough energy to cast lower powered kido, but even then she might be pushing it. She finds herself sitting back against the same piece of broken wall Toshiro is, listening to the distant chatter amongst their friends and wreckage crumbling and falling. She cranes her neck on the rubble’s edge, looking up at the sky.

She’d seen him soar across it hours ago, only a spec at times, and a more recognisable figure at others. At one point, the cold of his reiatsu had washed over her like a gust in a blizzard, freezing and chilling her to bone. It ebbed away minutes later, but it made her realise the magnitude of his powers. She'd wondered if he had this power this entire time and had chosen not to unveil it until now, when he needed it most to protect the Soul Society. If he was capable of this now, who knew what he could achieve in the future.

But then her mind rolls into another thought, one that makes heat rush up the back of her neck to her ears and try to suppress a chuckle.

“What is it?”

By this point Toshiro had closed his eyes.

“It’s nothing important.”

He opens one eye, unconvinced. “The spike your reiatsu said otherwise.”

She bites the inside of her cheek, chastising herself internally for not keeping it under control. She’s tired, but it’s no excuse. She lets out a small chuckle. “I was thinking that, in a funny way, Hyourinmaru’s Completed Form has given us a glimpse into the future. It’s shown us what you’ll look like when you grow up.”

She had meant it as a tease, to try and lighten the mood, but Toshiro’s frown deepens. As if realising his reaction was unexpected, he let’s out a snort. “Anything can happen between now and then to change how I look.”

The usual bite is not there. The response itself is strange, too.

Before she can ask, her captain comes up to both of them, asking for her help with moving Aikawa’s injured leg into a makeshift splint.

As she rises and leaves with her captain, Toshiro’s smile fades away, and he stares into his lap. No, into something else.

___________________________________

There was a time where future went as far as Granny.

What would she need today? What days was she planning to go out and shop? Would he need to help her with?

When would she pass away?

Toshiro never lingers on that last thought, always distracting himself with whatever he could. At the moment, it’s with sweeping the house and yard.

He’s up to the front porch, pushing the dust and dirt off the edge with the broom. Granny is inside, sewing a new garment together for him.

“You’ve grown again,” she’d remarked earlier with a smile. “You’ll need new clothes now.”

As far as he could tell he hadn’t. The ground seemed to be as far away as it was a week ago, and he hadn’t put on any weight. But he had to admit his clothes the last few days had seemed a fraction shorter at his legs and tighter around his shoulders.

It’s a few minutes later when he hears yelling. A group of children rush past his house, some giggling, others chattering about Momo, who's at the center of attention. She excitedly tells them her application exam date, beaming so wide it must hurt her cheeks.

When was she going to the Academy?

That one stung, and he ignores it with a sweep of the brush.

Months ago, he’d asked Jidanbo what it took to become a Shinigami. The giant was just as surprised as Toshiro had expected him to be.

“Have you changed your mind about not going, Toshiro-kun?” Jidanbo had asked.

“No,” is all he said.

Realising he wasn’t going to elaborated, Jidanbo had shrugged and said, “First, you must have spiritual potential and the ability to show it. You go to the Shinigami Academy, where you learn to become a Shinigami. The exam to get in is tough, sometimes you have to take it multiple times --” he'd rubbed the back of his neck “ -- like I did. My brother was more lucky, he only took the exam once and got in. Once you’ve passed, you’re enrolled in the next semester and that’s about it.”

Toshiro already know even if Momo didn’t get a pass on the exam the first time, she’ll go for it again and again and again, until she was enrolled.

He’d seen her enthusiasm long before this. The day she’d rushed to him, her cheeks flushed and her hair whipped around her from running to find him, and taken him back to his house to show him what she’d just accomplished. She’d cupped her hands together, and several seconds later, a white glow emanated from between the gaps in her fingers. When she’d pulled her hands apart, the orb radiating in her palms broke apart into smaller orbs that floated away. Momo chortled in delight, and Toshiro almost did the same. When she was this joyous it was often contagious, especially when he eyes are so wide with wonder and elation.

What had stopped him was a single thought, one that shot through him and made him realise just how far he’d let her into his life.

One day, she’ll be gone.

____________________________

The next time Momo sees Toshiro is on her way to the First Division. Shinji runs ahead of her on the walkway, listing off the topics they will need to discuss with Kyoraku. She’d been listening intently, but got distracted as they passed Twelfth Division.

From this high up, she couldn’t recognise most of Shinigami out and about, but the moment she saw one with white hair and a short stature and his cold reiatsu faintly emanated up to her, she knew it was Toshiro. He steps out of Twelfth Division’s main barracks, followed by Rangiku. There’s something morose about the way they hold themselves and in their slow walk to the division’s main gate entrance. They come to a stop just as a building blocks Momo view.

“You all right back there?” Shinji asks.

“Sorry, sir! I just saw Rangiku-san and Captain Hitsugaya.”

“Ah.”

“…Are they coming to this meeting too?”

“Nah, just us, Third, and Eighth.” She can hear his grin when he continues after a beat, “Were you hoping to socialise with them?”

“Of course not!” Momo scoffs.

It’s left at that. Still, she thinks back on how they had looked. She’d be sure to visit them sometime soon, if all goes according to plan with the reconstruction of the Districts.

________________________________

Momo found him sitting on the front porch of his house, peeling chestnuts. He hadn’t noticed her at first, but when her footsteps scrapped against the dirt path, he looks up.

“What’re you staring at?” Toshiro asks.

“Sorry, I just came to visit,” she says as she comes closer. “What are these for?”

He senses there’s more to this than just a visit, but he puts it aside for now. “Baa-chan is making chestnut rice tonight. She was going to ask you to come take some back to your house. She always does it in big batches.”

Momo grins. “That’s kind of her.”

Toshiro only shrugs with a huff. Momo’s grin falls into a small, unsure smile. He’s quick to pick up a nut from the tub in front of him, peel the shell off with a small knife, then put it with the others ready for Granny.

“In that case, do you mind if I help?” Momo says. “I can’t let her do that for me and my friends without helping her.”

“You don’t need to.”

“I want to.”

She makes herself comfortable next to him. She takes a spare knife from the tray he’d brought out, then collects several chestnuts from the tub. He opens his mouth, but shut it after she starts peeling. What had he wanted to say? Did he want to tell her to leave? Did he want to ask about the Academy?

Save for the knifes cracking open and peeling the shells, there’s silence between them. In front of her, the day passes, clouds moving across the sky and the sun shining down on the swaying trees and lively Junrinan a short distance away.

After a moment, Momo pauses as she takes another chestnut. In his periphery, she fiddles with it between her hands, as if trying to wring something out of it. She puts the knife to the chestnut, but is slow to peel the shell away.

She nervous, perhaps gearing herself up to say something. He already knows she’s going to Academy, remembers her loud declaration to Granny several weeks ago that was equal parts ecstatic and anxious. He didn’t want to reflect on his behaviour since she announced it, but he knows he’s become more sullen towards her.

Granny chastised more than once him, saying he should be happier for her and congratulate her; but he can’t ignore the tightness in his chest every time he thinks about her leaving. He hates that she had become a annoying and welcomed constant in his live for the last few decades, and even worse, that he had imagined what the future – whether it was the next week or the next year – would be like, and she was there in his imaginings, along with Granny and Jidanbo. Never used to even think about the future, his life had been repetitive until she came along.

After taking off the chestnut’s shell, Momo stops. “Can I ask you something?”

Toshiro continues peeling. “Hm?”

“Even if you don’t become a Shinigami, can we still be friends?”

Toshiro halts. His brows furrow, but he still doesn’t look at her. “What’s with that question?”

“I mean, while I’m at the Academy we won’t be seeing each other too much. And when I become a Shinigami, it’ll be even less. We’re friends, and, um…I want to stay friends, even when we’ve grown up.”

Her voice wavers towards the end, losing what confidence she’d built up to speak to him.

Toshiro blinks down at the chestnut in his hands. Somewhere around them, the leaves rustle in the wind, and a bird chirps and another caws back in response. The last parts of the shell fall away.

“You might be different by then,” he says solemnly, still unable to look at her.

Momo presses her lips into a tight line. “Well, of course. Everyone changes as they grow up. They become more mature and responsible.”

“Not all adults are.”

“Most though.” She drops her chestnut into the peeled pile. “I don’t know how often I’ll be allowed to visit, but I’ll write to you as often as I can.”

“Don’t bother.”

“Huh?”

“You’ll be doing your Shinigami stuff, you won’t have time.”

“B-But I want to.”

He finally looks at her. At the hurt that flickers through her eyes, he wants to take it back. She obviously hadn’t expected this coldness from him. Yes, his usual bratiness can make him say some hurtful things on occasion, but this is different for her. This was a side of him she rarely saw, and it’s a side she is never on the end of.

But what’s the use? She’ll go to the Academy and forget about him. She’ll make new, better friends. Ones she can go into the future with and who can understand the struggles and triumphs she’ll experience as a Shinigami.

“Do whatever you want then.”

His comment doesn’t ease the turmoil in her, with her gaze falling off to the side and her shoulders slumping. She’s on the verge of a sob, but she bravely keeps it back. “Are you saying you don’t think we should be friends anymore?”

It’s an opening he should take. He has to start letting her go, so it won’t hurt so much when she turns away, and stops being a part of his future.

“I…I’m not saying that.” He’s weak. “I’m just being realistic. You’ll be busy, you won’t have the time to write to us.”

It’s not the answer she expects. Her eyes widen and her lips part, but she doesn’t speak for several heartbeats. She's stuck between being confused and stunned. “I-I’d make time. Of course I’d make time!”

Her earnestness and fierce determination fracture what little resolve he had left. “Well then, let’s see you try.”

_____________________________

Momo glances at Toshiro from across the meeting hall.

He’d just stepped back into line after reporting on his areas for reconstruction. His division is doing well, ahead of schedule in fact.

Normally the thought would make her happy. He’s always been a hard worker; never for the sake of wanting to one-up another or show off, but because he wanted to do good for others. It was one of her favourite things about him.

But something about him is different. The war against the Quincy and taking in the total devastation it had caused had affected all of them, changing each of them in both subtle and obvious ways.

Toshiro holds himself differently. There’s the usual stoicism on his face, and the straight, pulled back shoulders and slightly raised chin that have been a part of his posture since he became a captain.

It’s his hands. They’re curled in loose fists at his side. Something is on his mind, and whatever it is, it’s causing him to be tense. His gaze shows he’s present, now listening to Mayuri give his report into his latest findings, but there’s something going on in the back of his mind he can’t escape from.

She wishes she could cross the room and take one of his hands.

_____________________________

“Don’t bother coming back, bed-wetter!”

Please come back.

And she must see through him, because her high spirits aren’t dampened as she continues to smile and wave at him. He’ll never understand how she can be so cheerful so often.

Eventually, she has to turn away from him and navigate her way through the growing crowds. After she vanishes and as Granny gently chastises him for his rudeness, he can’t dismiss the thought that haunts him. The same thought that had made him try to disconnect from her weeks ago.

What if she doesn’t?

_____________________________

Momo watches Toshiro ponder over the map of the North districts. Each was outlined in the colour of the division that has jurisdiction over them, Fifth Division’s in turquoise and Tenth Division’s in dark green.

“So we’ll tackle this area together,” Shinji says while drawing his finger along the border between the North districts nineteen and twenty. “It makes sense seeing as our jurisdictions are night next to each other. Also, saves us on costs if you go with shared resources, right?”

Both Toshiro and Rangiku nod.

“Have you brought this up with the Captain Commander yet?” Toshiro asks.

“Not yet. We went to a meeting about…” he lifts his gaze to the ceiling of Tenth Division’s office, trying to recall.

“It’s was a month ago, sir,” Momo quietly offers.

Shinji snaps his fingers. “Yes, thank you, Hinamori! Geez, we’ve been to so many meetings lately I’m getting them confused.”

Toshiro scoffs. Momo tries not to smile in response; it’s the first normal, in-character thing she’s seen him do since they arrived.

“Anyway, at that meeting, the Captain Commander suggested a few ways we can save on costs for the reconstruction efforts, one of which was shared resources. Sure you got told the same whenever you went to you met with him yourselves." Shinji jerks his thumb towards Momo. “My lieutenant here suggested we collaborate on the districts that border with other divisions, like yours.”

Momo can’t help but lift her chin a little at the credit her captain gave her. Sometimes he had a way of making one feel accomplished, even over the smallest things.

Rangiku grins. “It’s a great idea, and not surprised that it came from you, Hina-chan.”

Momo laughs nervously. “Rangiku-san…”

“Stop, you’ll make her overheat,” Shinji teases.

“Sir, honestly!” Momo retorts.

He only laughs, but he eyes Toshiro. So he’d noticed it too. Normally situations like this riled her childhood friend up, made him shout something along the lines of ‘We need to focus right now!’ or simply glare at him. Toshiro’s eyes were on the map, jumping to all the districts under his jurisdiction.

It was barely perceptible, but Momo could see with each district he eyes, a little more weight is added to his shoulders.

Shinji quickly returns things to the business at hand. Several minutes later, her captaina nd Toshiro agree to do reconstruction together.

As Shinji and Rangiku start on a plan, Toshiro stands up rorm the couch. “I’ll go get a pot of tea.”

“Do you need assistance with that?” Momo asked, ready to rise up.

He shakes his head. “No, thank you.”

He leaves while Rangiku and Shinji continue to hash out a plan. His walk would not seem out of the ordinary to most, Momo saw the weight in his shoulders from before, and just as she’d noticed when she first arrived, that he forced himself to stared straight ahead, and not once at her.

___________________________

He regrets every bad thing he’s ever said to her. Every angry exclamation. Every promise or important day he’d forgotten. Every time he scared her for a laugh when they were children. Every tease about her.

He barely manages a landing, his whole body numb with horror. Ice keeps breaking around them. He can hear yelling, but it’s muffled around the ringing in his ears. For the first time in his life, he’s too cold.

She finally stirs, and her hazy, fading eyes stare up at him. He shakes and can barely breathe. He might collapse, but she’s keeping him rigid and frozen in place. She says his nickname, a pierces through him, hitting a part of him that he always associated with first meeting her. The memory of it, the feeling of someone finally looking at him like he wasn’t so different, and letting it warm him into a fleeting sense of security.

“…Why?”

Something in him shatters.

He should’ve been kinder. Why hadn’t he been? Because he’d been a child who didn’t know better when they first met. Because he’d been alone for so long he didn’t know how to interact with others. Because he’d been scared. Because he’d let her in too far. Because he didn’t know a life without her anymore.

____________________________

An evening breeze blows through the streets of the South Second district, swaying the lanterns of restaurants and brushing Momo’s hair over her shoulders. It reminds her she needs to get it cut, but then she had thought of –

“That was a really good meal.”

Momo looks over to Rangiku , who interlaces her fingers and stretches her arms over her head with a grin.

“It was,” Momo says with her own smile. “I’m glad you recommended that place. We should take the other Women’s Association members there sometime.”

“Yeah, I thought so too. I wanted to try it out with you first.” She winks as she lowers her arms. “It’s been a while since we had a girls night out, huh?”

Momo’s smile widens. After recovering from the battle in the Fake Karakura Town and being discharged from Fourth Division, Rangiku had arranged for the two of them to have lunches and dinners together. They’d be casual mostly, chatting about work for only a short while before moving on to longer discussions about their hobbies, who they’d caught up with lately, and there were a few times they’d left wherever they'd eaten from and gone shopping together. Every now and then, particularly in the beginning, their chatter would turn sombre. They’d reflect on what had happened, whether it was Aizen’s betrayal or Gin’s death, and it took some effort to return the conversation back to something lighter.

Momo remembers the look that would come over Rangiku’s face during those moments. As her friend stares ahead into the growing crowds, she can see hints of that old expression. Her eyes are hooded, her eyes take on a glassiness, and she ignores things – like the loud cheering of an izakaya they pass by, or the sprinting children that almost bump into them before dodging off to the side. What was most telling though was Rangiku didn’t comb her fingers through her hair and complain about the wind ruining her hairstyle.

Like Toshiro, something had been bothering her, but unlike him, she seems to be bouncing back from it quicker. Still, she had moments like this where she grew quiet and solemn. It sends a twinge through Momo’s chest. “Can I ask you something, Rangiku-san?”

Her friend blinks and “Hm?”

Momo’s hesitation catches up to her. She’d wanted to ask before she’d come to dinner, but at seeing Rangiku being her usual boisterous and jolly self, the question had faded into the background.

“I was wonder…”

If she asks her now, she can finally know what happened. Of course, it wouldn’t be Rangiku’s place to say what happened to Toshiro…but what if it was the same thing that affected her?

“…I was wonder if you, uh…”

Momo recalls the two of them leaving Twelfth that day over a month ago, and the chances are whatever it was…

“Do you have any style recommendations for my hair? I was thinking of growing it out rather than getting it cut again.”

Without realising, Rangiku had brought them to a stop in the middle of the street. Souls pass around them, some with skeptical or awed looks, others completely ignoring them. The wind dies down, leaving Rangiku hair slightly frizzy. There’s a gentle smile on her lips, and a knowing look briefly comes across her eyes. Had she known what Momo truly wanted to ask?

But she couldn’t bring herself to, not when it occurred to her that asking Rangiku would potentially expose what has been bothering Toshiro too. She didn’t want to put her friend in an uncomfortable position, but with a tightening of her heart, it dawns on her that asking Toshiro would only do the same for Rangiku.

She’d trapped.

“Yeah, I can think of a few,” Rangiku eventually says. "I'll bring some ideas at the next Women's Association."

Momo blinks.

Rangiku had spoken quietly, uncharacteristic given that hair and fashion were topics she often spoke fervently about. Momo manages to take a deep breath in that looks natural enough, and then a small smile. “I thought you would. Thank you.”

____________________________

Come back.

Toshiro pleads it in silence to the night sky on another sleepless night.

He’d known her for so long, had let her become his closest friend. Her being there as they grew older, as they rose up the ranks of the Shinigami and protected the Seireitei, was an inevitability. How naïve he had been. For all of his posturing and talk of responsibilities and knowledge that any of his subordinates could die on missions, she had somehow become the exception.

Somehow, she would live on forever with him.

How can he have clung to such childish ideals?

Come back, he pleads again. I know now. I want things to be different.

_________________________________

Shafts of the sunrise spill into Momo’s room. She sits up before her alarm clock goes off. Rubbing her eyes and lifting the blanket away, she starts her day.

Nerves thrum through her, and no matter what she tells herself or how many times she goes over the plan for today, they don’t settle.

Today is their first day working together with Tenth Division.

After bathing and changing into her uniform, she steps up the mirror to brush her hair. After a few minutes, she takes up her hair clip and clips it in place.

She stares at her reflection, and after a beat, worries her bottom lip. She sighs and lowers her head with tightly shut eyes. How is she going to get through today?

_____________________________

Momo bound up the stairs towards him. Her recently cut hair tousles around her, and she beams widely. She’s obviously dying to tell him something, even shouts his nickname. Perhaps because they’re not in vicinity of his subordinates or the other Captains and Lieutenants, or perhaps because her joy is so often infectious, he chooses not to shout the usual correction at her.

In fact, Toshiro can't help but smile. He’s been doing that more lately.

He decided to be more open, with her first, and eventually with others.

When she stops in front of him and began to gush over a new project she was working on with her division, he has trouble covering up the reaction he has to the relieved, cathartic ache in his heart. Her forgiveness is still raw, even after all these months. Thankfully, she’s so caught up in her excitement she doesn’t see him briefly glance away to regain his composure.

The future was brighter, but the fact there was even a future with her after everything is a blessing all of it’s own.

_____________________________

From a distance, Toshiro orders his and a few of Fifth Division’s officers to do various tasks, and after they disperse, he goes to the next group.

Momo looks back to the map of North District Nineteen and continues outlining the area she and her subordinates will work on. In her periphery, Shinji finishes speaking with Takaya and Katsuro, and makes his way over to Toshiro before he can reach the group.

She tries to ignore the exchange, but her ears unwittingly tune in, catching bits and pieces of their conversation over the shouts of subordinates, sandals crunching in the dirt, and equipment being unloaded from carts. From what she’d (unintentionally) been able to tell, they discuss their findings so far.

She keeps a wince from reaching her face and she recalls their brief meeting this morning. She only gave Toshiro a glance, keeping her eyes either on Rangiku or somewhere behind the two of them. Toshiro retained a stoic exterior, even made a few pointed comments towards Shinji like he did when her captain annoyed him, but that heaviness in his shoulders and eyes is still there. She wishes she could just wave it away, like the wind pushing the clouds across the sky overhead.

It had been over a month since the war ended. He hasn’t said anything to her, and she can’t tell of it’s because of the work they’ve had to do or because he doesn’t want to. Was he concerned for Rangiku? Was it something he didn’t think she’d understand? Would it hurt her?

She shakes her head. She repeatedly tries to tell herself it’s none of her business, but her concern and burgeoning frustration doesn’t waver. Both grow when she can sense, for only several seconds, his gaze on the side of her face.

_____________________________

He doesn’t recall anything of his time as a ‘zombie’ to the Quincy, nor does he want to.

The last thing he remembered was collapsing, his ice shattering around him. Time slowed, as in that moment he thought about how this could be the end. It certainly felt like it was. He was so weak, so very tired and hurting, but he was still awake when the shadow fell over him.

However, the old cliché he’d been told about didn’t happen. He didn’t think on or remember his past. He didn’t despair that he was dying.

He'd thought about Rangiku, dying below, with no one to help her.

He'd thought about his subordinates, who would be without a captain again.

As a darkness began to settle around the edges of his blurred vision, he thought about Momo. He’d sensed her before, she’d been far away from where he was. She reiatsu had been strong, she was all right.

He didn’t need to protect her. Yet he still wanted to see her. For the last few seconds before the darkness took over and muffled footsteps and a sickly sweet voice reach his ears, he thought about the fact he won’t be there in her future.

His next memory is of being put in the recovery tanks along with Rangiku. At the time he’d been exhausted from the procedure Mayuri had made him endure – he vaguely recalls Mayuri half sarcastically marveling, “I’m quite surprised you’re conscious right now.”

He was lifted and secured into the tank by Nemu. Mayuri had watched him, and didn’t approach until Nemu stepped aside. He’d spoken at him, but Toshiro wavered between consciousness and falling into a warmer darkness and only caught sections of his sentences.

“The tank will complete the de-zombification…Consider yourself…Lieutenant is…My procedure took…years off your lifespan, but…we’ll take you to the Palace, no doubt you will…”

And the tank lid had lowered as Toshiro bowed his head. As he drifted into unconsciousness, his mind clung to one part of what Mayuri had said.

My procedure took…years off your lifespan…

He vaguely remembered thinking he must have misheard.

He hadn't focused on it when he awoke again and left the tank, choosing instead to thank Mayuri and rush off into the fray with Rangiku. She surely heard too, but he'd kept quiet about it. He’d been truly grateful and yet, that piece of information, it lingered quietly in the back of his mind.

He’d focused on the fight against the Giant Quincy, and had to resort to using Hyourinmaru’s Completed Form. He thought only of battle strategies and ways to keep his enemy distracted from either destroying the Soul Society below or from causing further harm to those still in the area.

It's now hours after the Quincy had evaporated away, and he and Byakuya found Momo and Shinji, safe.

She's been clearly startled by his appearance. He didn't know what to expect, had never really thought about her reaction to seeing him like this, but he dislikes her being so confused and unsure. Certain there's no immediate danger in their vicinity and with Byakuya scouting the area, takes her aside to explain the Completed Form.

Shock turns recognition, and then finally to relief. He can't help but feel she same moments later when he's transformed back and she heals his injuries. It's only a few minutes later when Mayuri’s words fully hit him. From then on, he can barely look her in the eye.

_____________________________

The setting sun halos Toshiro's hair, and his shadow casts long over the rubble. He stands alone, arm folded and back facing those a short distance away, clearly lost in thought.

In different circumstances, it would’ve posed as quite the striking image for Momo; one she would be tempted to capture in either her drawings or as a photo on her denreishiki.

His subordinates walk around her, gathering up the materials and equipment they’d used. She didn’t have to interact with him at all today, and even if she did, she’s not sure how she would go about it.

Somewhere behind her, Shinji calls out for officers to help with lifting some of the ruins into carts to be cleared off. She turns to go and assist, but its hard to take her eyes off her friend. The turmoil from earlier arises. She can’t ask him what's wrong, and he won’t even look at her unless she doesn't notice. Still, she can’t leave him as is.

With a deep breath in, and then out, she walks to him.

Her steps crunch from the smaller pieces of rubble and dirt, and alert him to her approach. He half twists around to her, and it causes her to stop more than an arms length away.

“I was wondering…” She hadn’t thought about what to say. But with a light snort, she manages. “Sorry, I was wondering if you had any further plans for Higuchi-san or Takagaki-san. We need some help with clearing the wreckage into the carts.”

Toshiro blinks, as if coming out of deep thought. With a small shake of his head, he turns back to the sunset. “No, I have nothing for them. Their performance was good, if you need to know.”

“Oh, thank you. I’ll be sure to tell my Captain. They’re both hard workers, so that isn’t too surprising to hear.”

“I sent them with Narita to set up the rations for distribution. They should be finished by now.”

Momo swallows against the growing tightness in her throat. She gives a nod, not trusting her words, and only lingers for a few seconds more before turning to go. She wants to kick herself for not coming up with something better, something that would make her stay with him a bit longer and force him to talk with her.

She’s taken ten steps when Toshiro calls to her.

“Wait, Hinamori.”

She looks over her shoulder, squinting against the setting sun. She can’t make out his expression, but his arms now rest at his sides, and his shoulders are higher, straighter. There’s a resoluteness there, but somehow also a reluctance.

He approaches her, but stops after a few steps. He speaks lowly, and it’s hard to make out what he says. She has no choice but to come closer.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear what you said, Captain.”

The corners of his mouth fall and tighten into a scowl – not directed at her, she’s certain.

“When we’re done here, I want to discuss something with you,” he repeats. “I assume you don’t have time for today so I –”

“I do!” Momo would normally balk at her boldness – especially for interrupting someone, let alone a Captain. But it was if she’d been holding her breath on the brink of passing out, and now she was desperate to get air. “I-I’ll have time after we’re done here. We can talk.”

Toshiro had been surprised, but shifts his expression back to neutral. “It won’t take long. Let’s load those carts first and get back to Tenth Division.”

He walks past her, and for a moment, it's as if the heaviness within him lingers over her. Whatever this would be, she's both eager and dreading to know.

____________________________

“How long do Souls live for?”

Toshiro rolls his eyes. Ever since she got here, Momo had been full of questions. She’s more curious than the average Soul, wanting to know every little detail about her new world she called home. Just a few minutes ago she’d asked a range of questions about what rules she needs to follow she didn’t end up in trouble – as he answered her, it reminded him of telling Jidanbo the Rules of City for the first time.

Before he answers her current question, he kicks a small hill of snow just in front of them, sending a white spray into the care tree they stood under. “It depends. Some live for a few decades, others live for thousands of years.”

Over the many layers she wore up to her the bottom half of her face, Momo’s eyes widened in wonder. “Really? That’s such a long time.”

“Not to them,” he says. “Time here is different to the World of Living, or so I’ve heard.”

“Thousands of years…you can do so much in that time!”

She starts listing off various activities and adventures one could do for over a thousand years, all the while her eyes shone, and when a scarf loosened from around her face, it revealed her wide grin.

He doesn’t understand her glee. Was this something specific to Souls that came from the World of the Living? Humans lived far shorter lives than Souls; perhaps the idea of being able to live that long appealed to them. He’d been born in the Junrinan, he knew only this world, and from what Granny had told him, ten years here likely felt like a year in the World of the Living.

He let’s her go on and on with her list, but when she comes to an end, breathless, she says, “Do Souls know how long they’ll live for?”

He lets out a bewildered snort. “Of course not!”

“Oh…” That dampens her enthusiasm, as if he’d popped a bubble. Before he can feel any guilt, she turns her attention back to the silhouette of the Seireitei in the distance. “So, I guess this means the Shinigami in there have been alive for a long time then.”

He shrugs. “Sure, I guess.”

It’s several heart beats later when her grin returns, but there’s a softness to it. “I hope we get to live for over a thousand years.”

He’s taken aback. We? Why 'we'? Why not ‘I’?

He wants to ask, but fears he’ll embarrass himself. So instead, he ponders on it in silence as she continues to admire the Seireitei’s silhouette. Did she mean it as a friend? That she saw them being in the future together?

Granny had been the only person who saw a future with him, planning their days with what items he’d have to go out and buy and what shrines or places they needed to visit together in the coming month.

Something about another seeing him in their future made bite the inside of his lip against the painful pang in his chest. Somehow, though, it also made him happy.

“What if we did?”

He hadn’t realised he’d asked the question aloud until Momo swivels her head back to him. “Hm?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing.”

“You mean if we live for over a thousand years?” He cringes inwardly as she considers. Her grin widens after a beat. “We’d have a lot to do, I’m sure of it!”

____________________________

Momo stares mutely at Toshiro, and then at some point, through him, and then into nothing. He shifts his gaze to the side, staring hard at the corner of the training room.

Just behind them, Fifth and Tenth Division officers shared a meal together in one of Tenth Division’s courtyards around a fire, chattering and laughing amongst themselves. Even in her shock, Momo ended up hearing her captain laugh loudly at one of his own jokes, but she can’t bring herself to smile or cringe.

She and Toshiro sit by the training room's entrance, mostly in the shadows. A strip of moonlight comes between them through the doorway, falling over his left foot and her folded knees. He sits half against the wall, his left knee bent and his arms resting in his lap. It would appear to some as the most relaxed he’s ever looked, but this is one of the few times she’s seen him look resigned.

He’d just recounted to her how a Quincy had taken control over him with her blood, and then how Mayuri had restored him. It had all made sense up until that point, but not what he’d just said. No, it was more like she didn’t want the sentence to be true, refused to let it be a part of what he'd already said.

She brings her gaze back to him as a small tremor runs through her hands. “I don’t understand,” she struggles to say. “What do you mean? How can you live for only three hundred more years?”

She thinks he won’t answer her, too overcome by whatever emotions rush through him. However, he takes a sharp breath in, but continues to stare off to the side. “Kurotsuchi says that’s at most, but it’s at least one hundred and fifty years. The procedure he used on me was crude by his standards, something he cobbled together while we were battling the Quincy. As a result of that and what the Quincy did to me, my lifespan has been reduced.”

“You’ve acting differently lately --” her voice catches, and her vision becomes misty “-- now I understand why.”

A quiet, strangled sound comes from Toshiro. “Matsumoto thought it was best to tell you.”

And it’s all the confirmation she needs that Rangiku is facing the same tragedy. She must have seen Momo’s dilemma that night they ate out, and decided to make things easier by encouraging Toshiro to tell her. She could cry for that alone, but she won’t; she’ll speak with her later.

She bows over, fisted hands bunching her uniform at the knees. “I-I don’t know what to say,” she laments. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”

That strikes something within him. He shifts, his back fully pressing against the wall and moving his foot out of the moonlight. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and she can make out the furrow in his brow twitching and the corner of his mouth dropping into a grimace.

His gaze goes to the ceiling. “I didn’t want to say anything,” he admits. “There’s nothing I can do.”

The catch in his voice is enough to make her move over to him, coming to sit next to him, their shoulders grazing and her knee bumping up against his. She rarely sits so close to him, feeling they should maintain a small distance between them, but this felt right. And judging from his lack of comment or shrugging away, he thinks the same.

“I’m sorry for what I said at the Palace.”

He blinks and finally looks at her. “What?”

She can’t help but be a little relieved he’d forgotten her comment, but winced at having to bring it up now. “I said Hyourinmaru’s Completed Form was a glimpse into the future. How careless of me.”

He shakes his head, but still doesn’t seem to remember. “It’s fine, you weren’t to know.”

“Even so, I should have been more considerate. That form is part of your zanpakuto, not something to be joked about.”

“You were shocked by it, and we’d come out of a battle and Yhwach was defeated, it’s understandable.”

She considers, and then admits, “And we were really tired, I guess.”

That gets a huff of a humoured snort out of him, but it doesn’t reach his eyes or shape his into a faint smile.

The urge to hold his hand comes over her again. Unlike that meeting from a few weeks ago, she doesn’t resist it this time. She takes the one closest to her. It’s the one that been regrown with hojiku-zai, the original lost on the battlefield at the Fake Karkura Town. She doesn’t hold his conventionally, choosing instead to lay her hand on the underside, and her fingers loosely come between his.

She watches him tilts his head down, staring at their hands. Something soft flits over his face, something akin to being pleasantly surprised.

For not the first time, she thinks on how she never imagined all those decades ago he would lose and replace a hand. Just as she’d never imagined what they went through because of Aizen, or the battles they fought against Hollows and Quincy, or the people they’ve lost under their watch. They’d been through so much, perhaps too much for Souls their ages.

Despite the time and effort it will take to rebuild the Soul Society, she had been thinking that peace was finally going to be restored. She was going to be happy again, with her friends and subordinates. She was going to ask Toshiro out to lunches more often, and finally sit with whatever her feelings for him were. The ones she’s can’t put a name too, but feels she’s just on cusp of doing.

Had he thought about these sort of things too? About what he had been through and the future he may not have anymore? If that was the case, it’s no wonder he didn’t want to bring it up. It’s enough for one of her tears to roll out the side of her eye.

She’s quick to wipe it with her free hand, but it doesn’t go unnoticed by Toshiro.

“I’m sorry,” he rasps.

She shakes her head. “Why are you apologising? You didn’t ask for any of this.”

“No, it’s not that. I didn't want to...”

He hesitates, and when he doesn’t continue, Momo finishes it for him. "Hurt me?"

He blinks, surprised she had guessed the rest. It still astounds her that he can't see the good within himself, but always in others.

"You don't need to apologise. When I saw something was bothering you, I wanted to know."

She senses there's more, a second apology he wants to make. When he doesn't, she stares straight ahead.

“We Shinigami are taught and prepared to die in battle for Humans and our friends,” she continues. “If we’re lucky, we can reach an old age with our accomplishments. Thinking about how long we'll live for is not something we're supposed to contemplate, our focus is on our duties and responsibilities. Even so, we’re not meant to die like this. You’re not meant to --”

He snorts again, and the faintest, saddest smile shapes his lips. “You’re not Reio, Hinamori,” he says, and she can imagine in another setting it would be a tease. “And even if you were, you doubt you would have the power to change this. I have accepted it's a likely possibility, and I will plan ahead accordingly. I never thought about how long I would live for --" his shoulders deflate with a shaky breath "-- and I shouldn't."

"Nothing is set in stone," she says, fiercely.

She’s always considered herself an optimist, perhaps to a fault. She remembers being more hopeful for the future when she was younger. Maybe that’s what came with growing up, you lose a little bit of hope every year, and cling to what still remains – foolishly, she suspects some think, but not her.

With a thick swallow, she lists her head up to the ceiling. “You said before that Captain Kurotsuchi was working on a way to restore your lifespan, right?”

“Yes.”

She mirrors the faint smile he'd had moments ago, but in her misty eyes there’s something less fragile. She tightens her grip on his hand. “Then let’s hope he does.”

It doesn’t dissolve his grief and cynicism -- she knows he hates leaving something he feels responsible for in the hands of others, and she can’t imagine what it must feel like to put your life in the hands of Twelfth Division’s captain. She has not words she can offer to console him or give him a new perspective of this. She has her own emotions to deal with too, ones of helplessness and a flickering hope, small but bright.

Her heart throbs when he flips his hand around and interlaces his fingers between hers in a tight grip. It's all they can do for now as a cloud passes over the moon and the laughter continues outside.

#hitsuhina #toshiro hitsugaya #momo hinamori #rangiku matsumoto #shinji hirako #bleach #fanfiction #angst #spoiler for the ending: I didn't intend it to be so bittersweet at the end (with an slight emphasis on the bitter)#but after a while it felt like the right note to end on #I may write up a small follow up that's most fluffy and shows Toshiro's determination to make the most of his life #whether that's in the short time he has or the thousand+ years he may get back once Mayuri comes up with something #because I am 100% certain he has tome to terms with it once the ten year timeskip has gone by #he doesn't like it of course but he has accepted it #and also write a follow up to explain what that 'second apology' was...👀#unless you were able to guess it in which case woo!

30 notes · View notes