Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Kubo Tite.

Author natterings: Longest piece I've written ever, and a continuation of A Fine Mess, number 44 of this collection, found at chapter 25. It is also highly likely that this will be the last piece I contribute to Ten. If I ever feel like writing disconnected pieces for Hitsugaya and Matsumoto again, I'll probably just compile them in another collection.
All of that said, thank you for reading and reviewing! It means a lot to me.

46. DON'T FORGET THAT YOU LOVE ME
"Mochi?"

"Please." And he bit into the little delight.

Matsumoto watched Hitsugaya eat her homemade mochi with a singular pleasure. It felt like nothing could go wrong today.

She had woken up that morning with a smile on her face after a restful, dreamless sleep. She woke with the sun. It shone unabashedly in the clear sky, white-hot and cheery. The temperature of the air was exactly perfect - like an extension of herself. Her neighbour was cooking something delicious-smelling. She cracked her window open and breathed it in deeply. Yes, today was going to be wonderful.

She combed her hair, then ate breakfast in her pajamas. She brushed her teeth, then dressed. Sitting in the fridge, waiting on her, were the mochi she'd made last night for today's lunch. She'd taken great strides in her cooking, and now packed into the mochi every conceiveable filling.

She skipped to the office. She smiled at everyone she passed. Oh, the start of a new day! So much lay in wait for her.

She watched him take the last bite of her mochi and beamed when he said, "Delicious, Matsumoto!"

Only once he'd finished did she allow herself to choose one. "What's going on after lunch, Hitsugaya-taichou?"

In a way that only he could, Hitsugaya quirked his mouth into a little smirk. His smile had a secretive quality to it. Her heart jumped and her brain skittered, trying to read into that little crook between his cheek and his lips.

"I have to go out into the field to test the new division recruits. You," - here, his left eyebrow rose - "have a visitor. I've given you the afternoon off. Not that you'd be doing much otherwise."

"I don't know what you're talking about, taichou," she said with a frowning smile, "I do plenty."

It was partially true. In the months since that fateful night that she had declared herself to him, she began to report for duty for more than just the training sessions. Though nowhere near the efficiency of say, Hitsugaya himself, Matsumoto came into the office more than usual, leaving her captain with a lighter load of work.

"I don't suppose you'll tell me who it is who's visiting."

Hitsugaya's smirk returned. "No, I won't."

She nodded, expecting as much. She speared a mochi. The thought of feeding it to him flitted across her mind, but she shut it out quickly and popped the mochi into her mouth, whole. She would take no risks.

Hitsugaya picked up one that she could tell was filled with red bean. Their shared favourite. Once she had made a batch of only red bean mochi, and he'd asked why. She'd answered that it was obvious, that it was their favourite. He'd replied, "That's true, but without the other flavours, there's nothing to look forward to." She did admit that the sweetness of a red bean mochi was particularly delicious after eating a white bean one.

This was why she loved him. He saw things that she didn't. Waiting for him was the only choice she could make without disowning some part of herself. And if waiting for him meant not pressuring him into anything, she would control those stray thoughts. They would stay contained underneath the ceiling of her skull, and her eyes would, just sometimes, stray to the stars.

At the end of the regular work day, Matsumoto loitered by the door of the division office. She and Hitsugaya had begun walking back to their quarters together at Hitsugaya's suggestion. This evening however, he would leave that suggestion. "I haven't properly greeted our guest yet," he said. Matsumoto nodded, and closed the door softly behind her.

He sat on a chair across from Matsumoto's couch, thinking on what he would say to her.

He did not wait very long. The girl from the material world knocked and entered, beaming brightly. "Hello, Toushirou!"

He rose from his seat and smiled without thinking. "Welcome back, Orihime."

Orihime only continued smiling and took a seat on the couch. Her hair was as orange as ever, even longer now, held in place by her magical flower clips. As she sat, she stirred the air with her unique Orihime smell. She was still her, even in the borrowed robe and the socks and sandals that weren't hers. He hoped that there were other sticking points about Orihime, too.

"It's good to see you," she said earnestly - she had always been earnest and he remembered liking this about her. "How have you been?"

Though a casual question, Hitsugaya did not feel like being casual with his answer. "She's driving me crazy. I don't know what to do."

Orihime paused, thinking. Hitsugaya desperately hoped for an answer to his plea. He remembered that even though Orihime was often silly, often missed what others understood, she did this because she saw in her own way. He hoped that what she saw could cut through to the centre of his problem. He needed a totally different point of view, and if anyone could offer it to him, it was Orihime.

Orihime also shared certain qualities with his lieutenant (a love for horrible food, an endless supply of joy), and he supposed this sort of kinship couldn't hurt either.

Orihime made certain. "You mean Matsumoto?"

"Yes."

"You mean that she said that she'd wait for you and when you were ready to date that she'd want to date you?"

He'd filled her in earlier, before she came. "Yes."

Orihime was completely absorbed by him and his problem - she was genuinely trying to see into their relationship. She leaned forward on her elbows. She fixed him with her brown eyes. "And you mean that she's changing and it's driving you crazy?"

He breathed an internal sigh of relief. Orihime did see. She'd seen in a few hours. "Yes."

"Okay." She thought some more. She was unabashed - she scratched her head, she looked skyward - she didn't make her thinking a secret. "Well, what bothers you so much about her change?"

He blinked. He was getting more than he'd bargained for, and much quicker than he'd thought he would. He stared at his would-be therapist's sandal, trying to compose a thought. What did Matsumoto do? Finally, he said, "Well, she doesn't seem to do much besides come to work, make me mochi, and go drinking sometimes." He grimaced. God, this was hard. It hurt him to see like this, to open every thought to her and know she was narrowing her existence down into nothing. Why was she choosing to live this way? When he thought of possible answers, it hurt more.

Orihime nodded, her hands folding into each other. "Keep going."

His eyes were all scrunched and his jaw was clenched. When he opened his mouth to speak, he felt that great pressure alleviate. He hadn't known how hard he was biting down. When he looked up, Orihime was looking back. He locked onto her warm brown eyes and the words just came. He told her.

At home, Matsumoto stirred her red bean paste around the mixing bowl, taking the occasional taste. A little more sugar, maybe.

She wondered what Hitsugaya and Orihime could be talking about. It wasn't that she didn't trust the both of them, she just wanted to know what was happening in his life. She hadn't missed the fact that Orihime and Hitsugaya had bonded in those rare quiet moments before and after battles. They both stared out at the horizon, achieving synchronism with each other. Orihime as Hitsugaya's confidante was the last thing anyone had expected, but it had happened.

And it wasn't like she didn't have her own unique connection with her captain. She had an amazing bond with him. The understanding between them was instant. Their connection was strong. It was possible that what she wanted could blossom from such a relationship.

Besides, she couldn't expect him to find this kind of bond with only her. It was silly - he deserved the care and love of others. He had his own life. Each bond he shared with someone was as varied as the colours of the rainbow: the bonds that were easily broken, with those who meant little or nothing; the bonds that had endless potential, with those he did not know; and of course the bonds that could only grow stronger with time.

Even so, it was a bit unsettling, the look in Hitsugaya's eyes as he told her he was staying behind to speak to Orihime. He was not as cool as he usually was. He was agitated. Worried. Her instinct was to visit him at his quarters. She could see herself sidling next to him on the couch and giving him a giant hug. She saw herself pestering him for answers to all her questions.

Then she snapped out of it. That was no way to conduct herself. Who knew what could happen if she wrapped her arms around him? He could stiffen, whisper that she was making him uncomfortable. She could lose control, going from friendly hugging to caressing...

An uncomfortable fit of energy bunched up in her legs. She jumped up from her position at the counter and grabbed the mixing spoon. She cradled the bowl and paced around the kitchen, willing herself to stop thinking.

"She doesn't tell me to loosen up anymore. She doesn't try to drag me along drinking or spike my tea." Hitsugaya said to Orihime, his fingers at his temples. The hard part over (as in, the beginning over), Hitsugaya was now leaning back into his chair, picking his memory for the things Matsumoto used to do.

For her part, Orihime sat posture-perfect on the couch and glanced briefly skyward, her thinking face on. "Could it be that she doesn't want to pressure you?"

"Pressure me how?" he asked curiously.

"Could it be..." (- Orihime started her sentences this way, always as a suggestion, and Hitsugaya felt that she was an intuitive counselor -) "... could it be that, as a woman interested in you, she doesn't want to come across as overbearing?"

His fingers stopped massaging his temples. The words scrambled around in his brain.

Orihime went on, a thoughtful finger to her bottom lip. "I mean, if I were interested in someone, I would watch what I say or do around them more than I would someone I'm comfortable with."

That set off his mental alarms. "Matsumoto is uncomfortable around me?"

Orihime nodded. "Now. Matsumoto is uncomfortable around you now."

Uncomfortable. To Hitsugaya, uncomfortable had always meant clamming up, suffering in another's company and making a beeline out the door to be alone. But Hitsugaya's uncomfortable and Matsumoto's uncomfortable were vastly different. He thought some more. When was the last time she wheedled him into a spa day? Where had all the fashion magazines she used to read in the office gone?

Orihime was right.

"It may be that she's trying to prove herself to you," Orihime said. Everything she said this evening had the ring of an infallible truth.

He spoke slowly. "It's this waiting. Waiting for me. It's changing her." He looked at Orihime, his green eyes vital in his face. "What do I do?"

Orihime blinked slowly. "You could suggest a kareoke night," she ventured.

Hitsugaya's expression shifted. He had been so serious, his brows drawn low over his eyes and his mouth set and jaw clenched. At Orihime's casual suggestion of a kareoke night, his jaw slackened, his lips upturned and his brows drew together in a helpless way. And he laughed. "Orihime," he said, looking sincerely at her, "Why didn't I think of that?"

"What?" Matsumoto asked, her blue eyes blinking wide.

Hitsugaya coughed uncomfortably into his fist. "It was Orihime's suggestion," he half-lied. He'd brought up the question as non-threateningly as he could, from his usual seat at his desk where he was perusing a scroll. Matsumoto was sitting on the couch facing him, about to start on lunch. "What do you think?" he asked, trying to keep down the nervousness in the pit of his stomach.

Matsumoto bit her lower lip. Little did Hitsugaya know, nervousness was clenching at Matsumoto's stomach as well. Her eyes anchored in his. "Tonight, you said?"

He nodded.

She clamped her lips tightly together, thinking of Hitsugaya belting out Ayumi Hamasaki or trying to rap Orange Range. She wanted to tease him badly. She thought about herself singing, and how she knew she was good. She wanted to impress him, but was also afraid of the exhibition. Instead, she asked, "Will you be there?" To distract herself she picked up her chopsticks and dug into her rice.

Hesitantly, Hitsugaya replied in the affirmative.

"Then I guess I'll go," she told her rice, fearing the party and what it might hold.

Orihime's powers astounded him. "Your powers amaze me," he told her.

She looked up from the bowl of punch she was slicing lemon into. "Oh, Toushirou, don't you know? I mentioned that it was for you, and Shunsui and Juushirou cleared everything out."

Hitsugaya knew he should be worried about this (those meddling older captains paired together were definitely a sign of trouble), but he couldn't bring himself to rouse the proper amount of suspicion. His eyes unerringly found the door, which shinigami would begin filing through in due time. Orihime was well-liked, and Hitsugaya got the feeling that a lot of his fellow shinigami were stressed from the recent graduation of recruits from the academy. Attendance would be high.

As if on cue, Renji, Shuuei and Kira arrived. Orihime paused in her preparations to wave hello.

The three lieutenants greeted Orihime warmly, mussing her hair, saluting and grinning apologetically, respectively. "Hey, Hitsugaya-taichou!" called Renji loudly, though no one else had arrived yet and there was no noise to shout over. "Where's Rangiku?"

Hitsugaya bristled at his addressing Matsumoto so informally. "She's not here, yet," he replied.

All three men looked visibly disappointed. "Shame. Rangiku has the voice of an angel," Renji sang said lieutenant's praises. "Doesn't she?" he asked his companions. They nodded.

Since when had Matsumoto sang with bonehead Renji? Before he knew it, his mouth had bent into a frown.

"Punch, Toushirou?"

Hitsugaya had almost said he would've loved to punch Renji, before he realized what Orihime meant. "Yes, thank you," he said distractedly. He looked to the door again. Orihime began talking to Renji. Kira went off to turn on the sound system, and Shuuei found the sushi platter.

Twenty minutes later, Hitsugaya was still standing by the refreshment table. His eyes darted from the door to the kareoke machine and back. He was right about attendance - several people had come in already, seeking food and some fun. He'd made the requisite small talk with everyone and fielded multiple inquiries on Matsumoto's whereabouts. Now, a group of four shinigami from the thirteenth divison were singing an English song by a formerly popular boy band. The machine, a little odd, doled out grades for performances, 100 being the highest. He was fairly certain no one had scored over a 60. Or at least, that's what his ears told him.

"She's late," he muttered to Orihime, when she got up from her position on the couches to get more food.

Orihime stepped a little closer to speak confidentially, balancing her tray of veggies. "How did she seem when you asked?"

Hitsugaya remembered back to that afternoon. "She asked if I was going. I said yes, and she said she guessed she would go too."

Orihime looked over his shoulder, casting a thoughtful glance at the wall. "Anything else?"

"She didn't look me in the eyes half the time," he reported in a rushed manner. It wasn't all that strange that she didn't look him in the eyes, actually. How had he let it go this far? "She was slow to answer." A thought flitted into his head and stuck there. What if she didn't show at all?

He was shocked back to the kareoke room when Orihime grabbed his wrist. "She'll come," Orihime said simply, reading his mind. "Sing with us!"

He couldn't very well deny her. This was her idea initially. He let himself be shuffled over to the couches, squeezed between her and Renji. Renji was singing, oddly enough, a ballad. He wasn't horrifyingly bad. Orihime crunched celery next to him. When the song was over and Renji wheedled an 85 out of the machine, he stood up and exchanged high-fives with everyone in the vicinity. All it took was a look to ward Renji off of high-fiving him though.

Matsumoto did her best to waltz into the room as nonchalantly as possible. It was weird, this nervousness settling at the bottom of her stomach. It clogged up her intestines and weighed her down.

Her eyes gravitated immediately to the shock of white hair over at the kareoke machine. He was sitting and listening it seemed. She was taken aback at the expression on his face. There was a hint of a smile.

Orihime was singing an English song with no discernable accent. When had she learned that, Matsumoto wondered to herself. Though Matsumoto only caught a few words, the feeling made it clear that the song was a love song. Orihime's voice was delicate, her lips forming the words easily. When the song was over and a 92 flashed on the screen, cheers erupted. Orihime grabbed Hitsugaya in a tight hug which he reciprocated by patting her back.

Matsumoto watched this scene uncomfortably. She felt like an intruder, even though there were well over 10 others in the room. Somehow, everything had narrowed down to Orihime, Hitsugaya and Matsumoto, and Matsumoto was the outsider. She crumpled in place. Had she done something wrong?

"Matsumoto, you're late!" Hitsugaya reprimanded from his spot on the couches. He stood. Once upon a time, she would've snickered that his standing didn't change his height all that much. As it was, she just felt her lips twitch.

"Rangiku, sing! Before Kira decides to!" Shuuei called, bizzarely stretched over Rukia's lap. She pushed him off quickly, veins pulsing at her temples. Kira made a noise of indignance.

"I think I'll have something to eat first," she told him, pointing at the buffet as indication. In the corner of her eye she spotted Hitsugaya getting up and walking over. He stuffed his hands into his pockets.

She turned to the buffet, her hair falling around her like a curtain.

Hitsugaya went straight to her. "Why are you late?"

She shrugged, picking up a few bundles of sushi.

"Don't say you were doing work," he said, managing to work some warmth into his tone.

She looked up at him. "I wasn't," she told him, flashing a small smile.

"Hitsugaya-taichou! Get back over here! You haven't sang a single song yet!" trilled Yumichika.

Matsumoto suppressed her eyebrow raise. "Taichou? You haven't sang yet?"

Her captain seemed to shrink. "No." He whirled, heading back to the couches. Matsumoto unconsciously followed him, wedging herself between him and Renji. Kira was singing now, and he really wasn't all that bad, despite what Shuuei seemed to think. She ate a hunk of sushi for each verse, and before she knew it she'd cleared her plate. She'd figured out by now that the numbers that blinked on the screen were scores for the performance. Kira scored an even 50, and everyone heckled him.

Renji pushed a mic on her, insisting that she sing and that after such a terrible performance they all deserved to hear something decent. Orihime pushed a mic on Hitsugaya, insisting that he have some fun with the most innocent of voices.

They had no input on the song choice, apparently, because the name of an old school duet ballad popped up on the screen, to the delight of nearly everyone in the room. Rukia and Orihime giggled, Renji hooted, Shuuei smirked and Kira raised his eyebrows. Yumichika and Ikkaku swapped wicked grins. Shunsui, who was lounging in corner on a beanbag chair, pulled the brim of his hat over his mouth. Other seated shinigami cheered, eager for the song to start and for the two who hadn't sang yet to display their abilities. For her part, Matsumoto was trying not to be sick to her stomach.

Gulp. Hitsugaya felt like a new trainee. Well, he felt how he imagined others felt when they were trainees. He stared at the title on the screen. It was so old and so popular that there was no way he could feign ignorance. He really wasn't intending on singing. He'd decided to have this just so he could see Matsumoto restored to her former glory, and what else was more Matsumoto than kareoke?

He dared a glance at her. Her brow was creased the slightest bit.

He felt a tug on his shirt. It was Orihime. "You're starting," she whispered, pointing at the screen.

And indeed he was. He watched the little counter tick down to the beginning of his public humiliation. He opened his mouth, and the words came out quietly, the tune barely in them. His eyes stayed firmly on the screen.

That is, until Matsumoto joined him. He broke his gaze to look at her. Her voice...

Her voice was honestly and truly the most beautiful he'd ever heard. Even more than professionals. There was no bravado. Her voice was just... her.

As the song continued and they had to sing together, he gained volume and musicality. He drew from her. He forgot to feel self-conscious. He ignored the ridiculous videos playing behind the lyrics. He hadn't even realized he was still looking at her until after the song had ended.

An eruption of congratulations came. He flicked his gaze over to the screen, barely catching the 100 before he turned back to Matsumoto.

She smiled back at him.

He relaxed then. Maybe this was working.

She had to hurl.

Okay, maybe not. But God, did she feel sick. The score of 100 had little effect on her nerves. Singing a love song she could handle. Singing a love song with her taichou, whom she was currently in love with, and whom did not reciprocate, made her want to collapse.

Hitsugaya turned to her. She gave him a smile that she was sure put her nerves on display.

But when he smiled back at her, she took a sharp breath in and the nervous feelings were very suddenly put on hold.

What her body urged her to do was kiss him. Do it! The part of her that she had shut away called. He was so handsome, even with just the light from the projection screen illuminating his face. She wanted to just jump him and bury her hands in his hair. She wanted to tell him to hurry the hell up and love her back.

But when she exhaled, she quickly shoved all those feelings into a very small suitcase and flipped the latch shut. If she were standing, she imagined she would be bouncing from foot to foot. "Let's sing another!" she called mindlessly and joyously, to much approval.

Hitsugaya blinked, as if that would dissipate the tension he'd just felt between himself and Matsumoto. Nope. Not dissipated at all.

He looked up at her high-fiving Shunsui across the room. Her round behind was unknowingly very close to his face, so he looked back down at his lap. There was no way he'd imagined that look in her eyes, so why was he the one reeling and she the one belting out Shania Twain?

"Toushirou, are you going to sing?" Orihime asked politely.

"No, I'm going to get some air," he replied, handing her the mic and making steps toward the sliding door that led to a little balcony.

Inside, Matsumoto and Orihime sang together, their voices blending and meeting his ears through the thin curtains.

Stretching languidly on her bed, Matsumoto smiled to herself at the start of a new day. It was gloriously sunny and warm. She could feel the touch of the sun through her sheets. She didn't have to open her eyes to know that the sky was bright, blue, and cloud-free.

Yesterday had been fun. She would've kept singing if she weren't afraid she would go hoarse. Even then, she'd sung a lot compared to some. Renji invited her out tonight for more of the same, and she'd gladly accepted.

She curled up on her side. She'd sleep a few minutes more.

Hitsugaya glared at the form he was filling out. Why did Soutaichou require quarterly reviews on the cafeteria food? He had enough paperwork as it was. He paused in his work to look up at the door.

This was the latest Matsumoto had ever been since she'd confessed to him all those months ago. He knew that this should be a relief - that maybe yesterday night had restored her to normal a bit. But he couldn't help but feel a little peeved at her absence.

Since she'd told him her feelings, he'd been a bit more considerate toward her. It was he who'd suggested they walk from the office back toward their respective homes. He always saw her home before walking back to his own place. He made it a point to conduct all his meetings with Hiwatari right in front Matsumoto, so she could feel at ease, knowing nothing was going on between them. Knowing that a girl liked you usually changed your attitude toward her, but he hadn't really changed all that much toward Matsumoto. The truth was, what he did normally he did because he liked her. She was hard not to like. Why else did he carry steaming bowls of oily ramen back to the office? Who else would he tolerate feeding him mochi? Matsumoto was simply the way she was, and he'd grown into her. That was partially why he wanted her old self back.

Worrying about her was new, though. She was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, yet he couldn't bat away his concern. Distantly, it occured to him that he was mad at himself. His brain kept telling him that she could take care of herself, but his eyes and ears stayed on alert.

"What's wrong, Toushirou?" questioned Orihime from her position on the couch. She was reading a book of fables that she'd brought with her from the material world. She sat where Matsumoto had sat just yesterday, her legs curled up underneath her.

Hitsugaya tried to read the forms in front of him. "Matsumoto's late," he said.

"I know," Orihime replied, turning a page. "Aren't you glad?"

Feeling uneasy at the prospect of saying either yes or no, he chose not to reply.

He couldn't have anyway, since Matsumoto slid open the office door mere seconds later. "Good morning!" she called.

"Morning," Orihime called back, waving absently as she flipped another page of her book.

Hitsugaya grunted, tugging up his sleeve aggressively and committing himself to the cafeteria food report.

Despite the lackluster response, Matsumoto stepped happily into the room, deposited her lunch on her desk and went up to Orihime. "What're you reading?"

Hitsugaya watched them furtively from the corner of his eye.

"Aesop's fables," Orihime replied, then went on to explain a story about a tortoise and a hare. Matsumoto listened raptly, blinking her blue eyes once in awhile. Once Orihime had finished, Matsumoto stood and stretched.

"Are you coming out tonight?" she asked.

Orihime smiled yes.

"Taichou?" Matsumoto asked.

Hitsugaya looked up from his paperwork like he hadn't just been listening. "Yes?"

"Are you coming out to Renji's kareoke night?" Matsumoto repeated, ever upbeat.

Hitsugaya furrowed his brow. "I was never told of this."

"You did leave early, Toushirou," Orihime interjected. "He invited everyone at the end of the night last night."

He crossed his arms, then he realized what he was doing and uncrossed them. "If I'm not welcome, I see little point in my attending."

"I'm sure you're welcome, taichou!" Matsumoto insisted.

"Just come along," Orihime suggested.

He frowned minutely and just said, "I'll think about it," an unusually demure response for himself. He tried to write down his opinion of the menu on thursdays, but he couldn't think straight.

Matsumoto stepped into a blue skirt and zipped it up with practised ease. It settled around her hips nicely and showed off her legs, she knew. But tonight she was dressing up more because she felt celebratory. It wasn't to excess - she left her hair as it was and just slipped on sandals. She dressed to suit her mood. Orihime, who had come over to walk to the kareoke place together, sat just outside the washroom door talking.

"- wouldn't have guessed that Toushirou would have such a nice singing voice. He really should show it off more often, don't you think?" A giggle.

Matsumoto adjusted the studs in her ears and opened the bathroom door. "You're right. I hope he decides to come."

Orihime clapped her hands together. "Why don't we go over to his quarters and persuade him some more?" she said brightly, obviously never having been a recipient of his cold glare.

Matsumoto was definitely a repeat recipient though. She laughed a tad nervously. "It's alright. I'd hate to force him into an uncomfortable situation." She scooped up her purse and headed for the door.

Surprisingly enough, Orihime wasn't dissuaded. She stayed on the couch and crossed her arms. "But I really want him there, Matsumoto. Don't you?"

Matsumoto watched in surprise from the doorway. "Well, yes... but-"

"Great! We'll just stop in quickly," Orihime said with a smile, then skipped out the door past Matsumoto.

Matsumoto let herself be led, nervousness simmering in her gut again. She hadn't imposed herself on Hitsugaya for quite awhile. Would he be mad? What if they interrupted his nap and he came to the door rubbing his eyes? Her breath hitched at the thought. His eyes, hazed with sleep, seemed too private. She would've blushed, had she not been jarred from her musings.

Orihime knocked, but stepped swiftly out of the way so that Matsumoto had a clear view of Hitsugaya once he answered the door. He did not appear to have woken up from a nap, but she was surprised to see him dressed casually in one of his outfits from the material world. Her eyes were drawn by how his black polo contrasted nicely with his white hair. She also found it oddly fashionable how he'd chosen to wear a watch with the rest of the outfit. He looked good, and in a way she wasn't used to.

"Oh, Toushirou, you weren't waiting for us, were you?" Orihime smiled at him happily.

"No," he answered. But then he stepped out and closed the door behind him so suddenly that Matsumoto got an odd feeling.

"Let's go."

Hitsugaya hadn't even known this place existed until today, and quite honestly, he could've gone his whole life without knowing and been happy. But as it was, he now knew it existed and also knew exactly why he would not want to know it existed.

He hiccuped, and took another sip from the cup in his hand. Shuuei had told him it was non-alcoholic, but maybe it wasn't? He was scrunching his eyes a lot more than normal and his head was tilting on its own.

Oh, but back to his reason for not wanting to know that this place existed. Alcohol. Alcohol and singing... it was just a terrible combination. It made some sense, since public singing took some courage and alcohol seemed to do away with a person's usual inhibitions. But really. Alcohol also made it impossible to read lyrics properly, and made everyone ten times more rowdy. Ikkaku had purposely searched for the scoring system and activated it so that everyone could be assigned grades again. Hitsugaya was just thankful they'd let him sip on his "non-alcoholic" drink in silence so far.

Matsumoto, on the other hand, was positively radiant. She'd consumed twice as much as anyone else in the room and still sounded amazing. As he watched, she gripped the mic tightly and hit a high note. Orihime, who no one would pressure into drinking, was sipping on a smoothie across from him and bobbing her head. When she caught him looking, she smiled broadly, the straw between her teeth.

Rukia had spent the whole night fiddling with the remote, figuring out how to queue up songs and create long lists of them. She hit a button right after Matsumoto scored a 90 and paused the queue. "Duet next! Who will it be?" she said, enunciating each syllable perfectly. Byakuya had expressly forbade her from any sort of alcohol for the next 25 years, and made sure everyone knew about it. As such, Rukia was the other sober occupant of the room.

"I wanna," Shuuei stated, grabbing at the microphone by Yumichika's thigh. He missed, and ended up stabbing Yumichika in the crotch, causing a minor ruckus. Hitsugaya sighed, glad he was sitting between Matsumoto and the wall.

"I vote Hitsugaya," Rukia said.

"Seconded," Renji said, taking a swig from a bottle.

"Thirded," Kira said, avoiding Hitsugaya's gaze.

"Hitsugaya-taichou," Hitsugaya asserted. "And I'm not singing."

"Fourthed," Ikkaku said, while pulling a livid Yumichika off of Shuuei. "And Hitsugaya-taichou, if you're not singing, why did you come in the first place?"

Hitsugaya frowned, and prepared to take another sip of his drink. Why did he come? "I came for Orihime and Matsumoto," he said without thinking, and without noticing the exchange of Looks between the other shinigami.

"So sing with Matsumoto!" Yumichika exclaimed.

Hitsugaya just slid his gaze over to Matsumoto. Matsumoto held her mic loosely now, and at his look she turned and smiled lopsidedly. Her cheeks were tinged with the slightest bit of pink. indicating that she was a little inebriated, at least. "Why not, taichou?"

He honestly didn't know if he wanted to do this, and only partially sober at that. Alcohol seemed to strengthen his inhibition rather than do away with it.

Shuuei successfully grabbed the other microphone without stabbing Yumichika in the thigh this time. "I'm singing now!" he proclaimed.

"I'll sing," Hitsugaya said decisively, putting his cup down on the table next to Matsumoto's bottle. As he did this, Matsumoto fixed his shoulderblades with a curious look, and Yumichika wrestled the microphone from Shuuei's grip.

"Here, Hitsugaya-taichou," Yumichika offered, handing Hitsugaya the mic with one hand while pushing Shuuei's face back with his other hand. Hitsugaya took the mic wordlessly.

Matsumoto continued her staring.

Without looking at her, Hitsugaya said, "Yes, Matsumoto?"

She jumped, not aware enough to have noticed him noticing her. "Oh, it's nothing, taichou!"

Rukia must have hit the play button because the song was starting. It was a recent hit, not hard to sing, and about falling in love with your best friend. Something about the song nagged at Hitsugaya, but he couldn't pinpoint it in his daze. There was definitely some alcohol in that drink.

The song started with green text, which indicated that both people should sing. Hitsugaya and Matsumoto sang. The text didn't change colour, even halfway through. That was when Hitsugaya realized that the song wasn't a duet.

Rather than stop singing, he continued. The song was nice enough. You didn't have to be particularly skilled to sing this song. Matsumoto was taking it easy, leaning back against the couch and propping her legs on the table. His gaze flickered to her exposed legs. She'd worn a skirt tonight, which he didn't often see. An odd feeling overtook him, and he directed his gaze back upward, but the song was just ending.

They scored 100. Ikkaku imitated a crowd cheering. Orihime called a congratulations. Renji wanted the microphone. Hitsugaya just about relinquished his, until Rukia piped up, "The next one's a duet, too."

Hitsugaya drew back immediately. He sat against the couch with the microphone on his lap. His gaze drifted once again to Matsumoto's legs, and he swung his gaze up, disconcerted. He didn't know what he was doing with himself. He needed water or something. Something not alcoholic.

Renji started to make a fuss, but the next song was already starting and Rukia pulled him down, causing him to land, hard, on his behind. He shut up after that and reached for his beer.

The next song was a true duet. Matsumoto led. She sang about the universe and how large it was and how she needed to find someone in it. Hitsugaya stared at the floor, listening hard, and missed his cue.

Matsumoto decided that she loved it when Orihime came visiting.

Already over the course of a week, they'd been to kareoke twice, eaten out three times, been to the beach, and now they were cooking together!

Matsumoto stirred a peanut paste and a red bean paste simultaneously - fillings for her mochi - while her oatmeal cookies baked in the oven. Orihime was making a multitude of toppings for her shaved ice, some of which were raspberry-chocolate, orange-raisin, peanut butter-breadcrumb and blueberry-mint. She didn't know where it came from, but Orihime was crushing mint using a mortar and pestle. She loved the effort Orihime put into her cooking.

She sampled her red bean paste, catching a generous dollop with her finger and popping it into her mouth. As she was tasting it, she realized just what she was doing, and darted her gaze over to the window.

Hitsugaya was, indeed, still sitting on the windowsill and - to Matsumoto's partial unease - watching her. His eyes seemed to be extra bright turquoise in their evaluation.

Her eyes were wide as she swiftly took her finger out of her mouth and, in a very unsexy fashion, wiped her hand on her apron. He held his gaze for another moment, blinked, and turned his head away to look out the window. She was breathing hard, suddenly.

"Aren't you excited to taste our cooking, Toushirou?" Orihime enthused, oblivious to what had just passed between Matsumoto and Hitsugaya.

"Mm," Hitsugaya barely agreed. He stared out the window at what Matsumoto knew was a not-very-nice view of the ninth division barracks. This was her place, after all.

Matsumoto felt too fragile to be doing so, but she wanted to stomp out the awkwardness of what may or may not have just happened. She said as boisterously as she could, "If taichou doesn't eat it, we'll just eat his share, won't we, Orihime?"

Orihime laughed girlishly and loudly concurred. Hitsugaya looked up, his brow no longer furrowed and his eyes reflecting mild shock.

She didn't know what to make of his reaction. He was throwing her off so much lately. She just smiled tightly at him and nodded succinctly once, then turned to the counter to fill her mochi.

Had she really just said that?

Hitsugaya's stunned gaze rested on the back of her blonde head, which sported a jaunty ponytail today. He couldn't remember the last time she had put her hair into a ponytail. He knew she thought she looked best with her hair down. So why was she wearing it up?

All he could seem to do lately when it came to Matsumoto was question. Why was she wearing her hair up when she thought it looked better down? Why was she coming in to work an hour late in the mornings? Had she really been cured so much?

He should've been happy, or at least satisfied, that his and Orihime's plan had worked so flawlessly. All it took was a little bump in the right direction, and Matsumoto was nearly herself again.

Except. Except she wasn't, was she? She might go out more in the evenings and tumble into the office late. He even spotted one of her fashion magazines yesterday, the little perfume sample open and stinking up her side of the office. But when they'd gone to the beach and he refused to lie on the sand for more than an hour, she hadn't used her puppy-dog eyes on him. She hadn't given him a bone-crushing hug, not for months now. She was restored, her own internal sunshine shining again, just not on him.

He looked at her for another moment. Her front was covered by a spotless apron and tied with a little bow in the back. Her feet were bare against the kitchen tile - was she wearing an anklet? Her ponytail fell over her shoulder.

He turned back to the window, his chin in his hand. Could it be?

"Bye, Toushirou!" Orihime called over the threshold of Matsumoto's home. She called as if Hitsugaya were 20 metres away and not 2.

Still, Hitsugaya turned to her, eyes warming, and waved. "See you tomorrow, Orihime." He looked past Orihime to where Matsumoto was standing. "Matsumoto, see you tomorrow."

Matsumoto looked up and gave him a smile with half of its natural brilliance. "See you, taichou!"

His gaze flickered to the ground for a moment, then he nodded. As he walked away and Orihime called more see yous, he put up a hand to wave. Orihime didn't close the door until he disappeared around the corner.

Turning to Matsumoto, Orihime thrust her arms into the air and stretched contentedly. "That was fun! I really like cooking with you, Rangiku!"

Matsumoto repeated the smile. She hated to do it, but her brain was just overflowing, and she couldn't seem to make the proper facial expressions. "Your shaved ice was delicious," she said, noticing that it sounded like an apology.

Orihime proved that she was not obtuse in the least. "Is something on your mind?"

Matsumoto hesitated. She said quietly, indicating that they retreat farther into the house, "Let's get ready for bed."

Orihime just smiled and nodded, then headed off to use the bathroom first. She finished quickly, coming out in a sleep shirt and pajama pants patterned in sheep. Matsumoto went to the bathroom next, in silence. She brushed her teeth a bit too hard, and thought about how to tell Orihime all that she wanted to tell. When she came out, hair down, clad in an oversized shirt, Orihime was pulling back the covers of her makeshift bed. She insisted on sleeping on the floor. Matsumoto was thinking of kicking her out and forcing her to sleep on the bed.

She joined Orihime on the floor. She lay on her stomach. "I haven't told you about my love life lately."

Orihime smiled kindly. "It's alright. You are now, aren't you?"

Matsumoto felt a bit of pressure lift from her conscious. Orihime made things so easy. "I like a guy," she said, then paused, looking up at Orihime, "But he doesn't like me back."

Orihime was sitting Indian-style, and propped her elbow on her knee so she could lean her cheek into her palm. "What makes you think that?"

She tucked some hair behind her ear. "He told me he's not ready. And I told him I'd wait for him."

Orihime nodded, seeming to comprehend the situation quickly. "How are you doing?"

"To be honest," Matsumoto gave a fragile smile, "It's killing me."

Orihime's mouth and brow contorted with a bit of pain for her friend.

Matsumoto held her arms tightly around her chest and spoke to the blanket beside her foot. "It's getting hard for me to act proper around him. I just... I like him so much. I want to grab him and tell him to like me back, already," she laughed a self-conscious laugh, darting her gaze nervously over to Orihime and back to the blanket. "Who knows if he'll ever come to like me that way."

Matsumoto was surprised when Orihime touched her arm. She looked up, and Orihime's soft, encouraging face was right there.

"Just be yourself," Orihime said. And though it could've been the most cliched advice in the history of the world, Matsumoto truly and deeply believed in it, and in Orihime.

In the morning when Matsumoto woke up, she felt better than ever, even though she had slept on the floor next to Orihime. She smiled. Neither of them had ended up taking the bed.

"Good morning, taichou!" Matsumoto greeted happily, late by a mere five minutes that morning. She came in toting a sizeable container - her mochi container. She plopped it down right next to Hitsugaya's customary cup of green tea.

"Oi, Matsumoto," he began slowly, "What's with the early-morning mochi?"

Matsumoto blinked at him in astonishment. "Taichou, I figured I could keep them on your desk today. It's much bigger than mine."

Hitsugaya glared at her in a subdued fashion. She turned away to her desk, missing his grumbled, "What am I? A storage facility?"

It was nearly ten minutes before Hitsugaya looked over and saw exactly what Matsumoto was doing. She was leaning back in her chair, feet up on her desk, and cradling a magazine in one hand and a cup of green tea in the other. He watched her blue eyes speed down the page for about ten seconds before speaking up. "Matsumoto. I don't think that's work."

He was ignored. Matsumoto put down her tea and turned a page.

This got under Hitsugaya's skin a little more than usual. This, plus all her behaviour as of late... all her behaviour toward him...

Hitsugaya cleared his throat. "Matsumoto-fukutaichou?"

"Yes, taichou?" she said distractedly.

"Where's Orihime?"

Matsumoto stared with a little more intensity than usual at a part of a page, mouthing words to herself. Then she looked up, replying, "She's visiting Rukia. Ichigo's supposed to come visit today."

He hadn't known that. How did Matsumoto know that? He crossed his arms. "When is he arriving?"

She shrugged.

Discontent, he pressed her further. "How long is Ichigo staying for?"

She flipped a page, then flipped back, then flipped again. "I think he's going back when Orihime does." She went on reading.

He nearly huffed, but stopped himself and relaxed into his chair. Determined to calm down - just why was he so riled up anyway? - he took his cup of tea in hand.

Just then, a loud slurping broke the silence. He whipped his head up at light speed to see Matsumoto drinking from her own cup.

Disgruntled, he put his cup down and pulled his sleeve up. No tea, then. Soutaichou needed his opinion on the latest addition of plum trees to the Seireitei gardens. He'd actually found the time to stroll through the gardens, and they were really-

Sluuuurrrp.

Hitsugaya's mouth bent into a frown and his gaze shot up to his lounging lieutenant. "Matsumoto-fukutaichou."

Matsumoto actually looked up at him over her magazine, which he had not expected, her lashes fluttering in an imitation of innocence. Her mouth quirked to the side. "Yes, taichou?"

He felt his throat dry up. He coughed, cleared his throat, then he said, "Matsumoto, could I speak with you for a moment?"

To his satisfaction, she closed her magazine, stood, and walked over to his desk. To his dissatisfaction, she went over to her mochi container and began to untie the cloth it was bundled in.

He chose to ignore it. He could talk to her like this casually still. He watched her fingers maneuver over the series of knots she had tied, slim and graceful.

"Matsumoto, you've been tardy getting into the office lately. Do you agree?"

She smiled easily and brightly. "Absolutely, taichou. Except for today."

"Five minutes is late." He crossed his arms.

"No, it's not. Any more than that and I'm legitimately late. But everyone knows that within five minutes is fine." As she detailed this unspoken rule to him, her hair fell from its place behind her ear, stirring the air with the smell of her shampoo.

He sat in mild shock. Had she just argued with him, as little as the matter was? What had happened to not wanting to overstep? What had happened to not seeming overbearing?

He stood, his chair scraping the floor loudly. He grabbed her wrist, and fixed her widened eyes with his own.

What about her hair, up in that ponytail? What about the way she sang like a pop star? He tightened his hold on her.

Don't forget that you love me!

His gaze faltered when she grinned. She unfroze herself, taking the top off of her mochi container. He slowly looked down into the collection of assorted mochi.

It was arranged in the shape of a heart.

He looked up. She was smiling absolutely brilliantly.

He unfroze.

And then he wanted to scoff. Heart-shaped food. It was just so Matsumoto.

It was a long time coming, but he just couldn't stop himself to arrange the perfect moment. As it was, he tugged her by the wrist, and when she fell forward, he was there to take her in his arms and hug her. He registered her arms making their way around him, too.

But after a brief moment, Matsumoto prodded his back. "Uh, taichou? I'm leaning over your desk. This kind of hurts."

Abruptly shy, he let her go, and they both bent back onto their sides of his desk. But then Matsumoto was bounding around the corner and crushing his cheek to her bosom, and all was right with the world again. He sighed and wrapped his arms around her.

When she pulled away, he saw a devious spark in her eye. He knew her well enough to expect something...

And something it was. He hadn't blinked before she put her lips on his. He felt her kiss all the way to his toes. His eyes slipped shut.

Their kiss ended once the shoji screen slid open and revealed Ichigo standing in its frame. "Wow, didn't expect to find you guys going at it, even if Inoue told me," Ichigo said in greeting.

Hitsugaya's hand remained at Matsumoto's hip. He was barely recovered from the dizzying kiss, but he still barked out, "Orihime told you what?"

Ichigo scratched the back of his head carelessly. "That you guys got together. What else?"

Matsumoto's eyes narrowed, but the side of her mouth pulled up into a smirk. Hitsugaya's brow furrowed deeper.

Orihime appeared behind Ichigo in the doorframe. "Hey! Good to see you together, Rangiku, Toushirou!"

Hitsugaya frowned and indicated that Orihime enter the room with a beckoning finger. Matsumoto cast a helpless look Ichigo's way, and waved him in too.

"Orihime..." Hitsugaya began, intending to segue into a reprimand. Upon the sight of her smiling face though, and Matsumoto's just over her shoulder, Hitsugaya reined it all in. He rolled his eyes at himself. "Thank you, Orihime."

"It was no trouble, Toushirou," she replied simply.

His remaining indignation ebbed away. "I'll... be sad to see you return to the material world."

She flushed pink. "I'm just glad Kurosaki came to escort me back."

A lightbulb flashed on in Hitsugaya's brain. Cogs and wheels went turning. He kept himself composed. "That's nice of him. How long do we have before you leave?"

Orihime ran her thumb over the lace hem of her skirt. Hitsugaya looked at her sandalled feet. She had painted her toes ballet slipper pink. He nearly pulled a Chesire Cat grin. "We're staying another week."

Hitsugaya nodded in response to this. He called to Matsumoto, who was currently immersed in conversation with Ichigo, "Matsumoto, a word?"

Matsumoto excused herself and made her way over to Hitsugaya by the bookshelves. "Taichou?"

"Orihime and Ichigo. We have one week."

Matsumoto picked up on this immediately. "I'm so glad you're thinking what I'm thinking."

Hitsugaya shared in her smile. "Oh, and Matsumoto?"

"Yes?"

"Kareoke tonight?"

"I thought you'd never ask."