BLEACH: Colored Emotions 1

PINK SYMPATHIES


He had lost track of time. A strange concept to him, as one who was always chastising her for being late, lazy or lost. Looking back, he wondered why he had push her so hard. Was it really so bad when she left in the middle of her work to grab drinks with Izuru and Ikkaku? Did he have to ride her ass so hard when she came back with a hangover and fell asleep on his couch? The questions swirled through his mind, lengthening the feeling of guilt he held in his chest. He knew it wasn’t his fault. It was no one’s in particular, actually. Things like this just happened.

Life happened.

But why life had to deal her such a cruel hand, he simply didn’t understand. It seemed he had seen far too many people suffer during his time in the Soul Society. People he had loved were hurt, or destroyed. None of them deserved the cards they had to play with. Dealt a hand they were sure to lose with. And when they lost… the currents of life carried them away from him.

Yet he stood still. He went on. He remained strong, frozen, unmovable. An iceberg amidst the waves.

A tear hit his hakama, leaving a cold spot on the dark fabric. Surprised, he swiped at his eyes, pulling away a tear streaked hand. He choked momentarily, struggling to keep his sobs in.

He was strong.

He was frozen.

He was breaking.

His face buried in his hands, he gulped in big breaths. Toshiro  Hitsugaya did not cry. At least not in public. Hearing the regular breathing of his lieutenant hissing through her oxygen mask, he worked on matching his to hers. She would tease him if she knew.

No. He paused. Despite her carefree ways and sometime inappropriate behaviors, she always knew when to be serious. And anything that dealt with her beloved captain’s emotions, she was quick to pick up on. When he had knelt at Kusaka’s grave and choked out his goodbyes, she had stood quietly by his side, a calm strength. It was always that way. She watched his back unflinchingly, unable to see any fault within him. Well, besides his seemingly inability to have fun on any level.

Now it was his turn. He had sat beside her bed every evening since her treatments had began. It was odd, discovering she had something so devastating as cancer. They had foolishly thought that Soul Reapers were beyond having such human diseases. Then again, Captain Ukitake showed symptoms of tuberculosis. They were mortal in their immortality, really. They became injured, even died. They were not so different from their human counterparts after all.

It had been a human who determined what was causing Rangiku‘s unusual health problems. Ichigo’s father had caught on to her symptoms and told them to take her back to the Soul Society. Upon reflection, Toshiro wondered briefly how Isshin knew what they were, much less where they needed to go.  But that was a puzzle for another time. What he said was right, and so they had come back a few weeks ago. With the information Isshin had sent with them, Captain Unohana was able to diagnose and begin treatments immediately. She had assured the worried 10th division captain that Rangiku would be fine.

He didn’t believe her.

So there he sat, again. He watched her as she slept; her lovely ice blue eyes closed, their lids turning purplish as the illness and treatment battled it out within her system. Her ample bosom, usually so exposed unabashedly, heaved with every breath she took, the ugly material of her gown covering her milky flesh. He had forgotten how many times she had squished his head with those things. A small smile tugged at his lips. He’d never let on…

A few days ago, the real heart break began. Her glorious mane of strawberry blonde locks began to fall out. A normal reaction to the medication, they were told. Despite her constant reference to her breasts, it was actually her hair that she loved the most.

Truth be told, so did he.  Especially the way it would whip around her during a fight. It seemed to be as alive as Haineko. He glanced at the lonely sword in the corner of the room. He knew how it felt. Looking back to the shorn head of his lieutenant, he bit his lip. She decided yesterday the best route to go. Hence, the remaining locks had been shaven, and she had tried to hide her tears.

It was then he knew what he must do for her. He wanted her to understand that she was not in this alone. And, sadly, he was terribly rusty at saying his emotions out loud. Rising from his seat, he reached underneath and pulled out a box. He hoped this would help her understand what he couldn’t say. He knew visiting hours would be over shortly, and he wanted to be gone before she woke up once more.

Silently, he placed the pink wrapped box on her table, and brushed a gentle kiss across her brow. Whispering a soft ‘goodbye,’ he left, the unspoken promise of his return on the morrow assured.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Toshiro was most surprised to see a note from Captain Unohana laying on his desk the moment he walked into his office the next morning. Picking it up, he hurriedly rushed out of the room, shunpoing across the Seireitei. The note indicated the matter was urgent. His heart stuttered and his fists clenched. He had tried to prepare himself for anything. Now it was time to see if he had succeeded.

Alighting softly in front of the clinic, he stalked into the lobby, looking around for Captain Unohana or lieutenant Isane Kotetsu. Seeing no one around; and not a man of outstanding patience, he made his way to Rangiku’s room, fearing the worst.

What he saw there was something he could never have prepared for. Sitting up in her bed, his precious lieutenant stared out her window, lost in some sweet thought that brought a smile to her lips. His heart shook a little. He hadn’t seen her smile in a while. However, what brought a smile to his own lips was the white cropped hair resting on her head, its ends just touching the bottom of her ears. Two loops pulled to join in the back, held there by a pink ribbon.

He cleared his throat. She turned her bright eyes to him, full of life and happiness. “You came,” she whispered. He nodded, crossing to her bedside and stopped. She looked up past his eyes, to the finely cut hair on his head. Gently, she reached out and smoothed her fingers through it.

“Thank you.” Her words said so much more, and he understood exactly what she meant.

“I will always have your back,” he replied. “No matter what comes our way.”

Clutching his hand, she soon fell asleep. He sat there, watching her, his fingers playing with her new tresses. White somehow suited her. And pink had always been her favorite color. Now, he found it was one of his too.