- I know your face all too well, still I wake up alone
Fiction when we're not together -

Title: Flowers For A Ghost
Genres: Romance/Angst
Rating: T (for now)
Couple: HitsuMatsu

Flowers For A Ghost
Chapter 1.

This time, there was no urgency. Silence fluttered the room, and he was wrapped in a sheet of ice, soothed and barely breathing. His heart thumped, weakly, battling against the dreams which rattled in his mind. It had been a very long time since Captain Hitsugaya endured dreams. Not ones of smiles and laughs. Usually, his dreams were filled with darkness and dread, of monsters who loved to come out and play. That was why he always awoke so suddenly, sweating, panicking, dizzy, scared. Except this morning. This morning it was different.

A dream took control of his mind that night, but there were no monsters, there were no hands grabbing onto him and pulling his body apart. Instead, he was a child, running with a girl; she was faster than him, and he struggled to keep up. The further she ran, the less he could see, and soon, she was out of sight. It came so quickly: his sight was lost in an instant, and that was where his dream ended.

During his dream, he felt no fear. Not even panic. He was aware that the girl was leaving him, refusing to wait, but he wasn't scared; he didn't scream at her to wait. It almost seemed as if he were surrendering, wanting to lose sight of her. So why did he wake up, breathless, sweating, and frightened? It didn't add up. It didn't make sense.

A soldier does not suffer nightmares, and a soldier does not endure fear.

Tōshirō whipped off his sheets and fell to the ground, quickly scrambling to his feet and opening the curtains. Light beamed in through the window, making him squint and retreat. A headache was coming on (again), and he could feel his knees wobbling. For the moment, he tried to keep calm. It had only been a dream and the way his body responded should not be acknowledged. Now, he was in control of his emotions and limbs.

Grabbing his shaving foam and razor, Tōshirō glanced at himself in the mirror and almost didn't recognise the reflection. When was the last time he shaved? A white stubby beard was growing, and he couldn't believe he hadn't noticed his appearance until today. The dark rings under his eyes were the least bit inspiring. Smothering the lower part of his face with shaving foam, Tōshirō removed the facial hair, accidentally nicking himself at his jawline.

Damn it. Sighing, he studied the wound in the mirror. It was bleeding terribly. Damn it, damn it. Washing his face, Tōshirō dabbed the injury with a tissue until the bleeding finally ceased. Dressed, Tōshirō headed for work without any breakfast. The day was slow and gradual, and when Hitsugaya returned to the office from a meeting he hoped his Lieutenant would be busy with paperwork. He was surprised to see her cleaning the windows instead.

How can anyone procrastinate that hard?

'Get down from there, Lieutenant. You can wipe the windows after you've finished work.'

'The dirt was distracting me. I can't focus on my work if I'm distracted,' Rangiku replied, refusing to return to her desk. Tōshirō rolled his eyes, but had to admit it had been a long time since the windows were given any attention. However, something told him she wasn't wiping the windows because she just wanted to avoid work. There was another issue as well.

A long time ago, he might have scolded her for slacking off, but now he decided to turn a blind eye. The Captain glanced over at her pile of work, frowned, and sat behind his desk. For a moment, he just sat there, listening to the squeaks of Rangiku's cloth against the windows. It then occurred to him Rangiku had been wiping in the same place for the past five minutes, and that her eyes were focussed on what was happening outside.

Tōshirō was on his feet again, joining her. 'You can't just wipe one part of the window. Other parts need attention too.' Snatching the cloth from her, he rubbed out a mark.

'I was doing fine on my own, Captain. You doubt me that much?'

'No. I just noticed you weren't really wiping them,' Tōshirō looked at her. 'Either you're killing as much time as possible, or something is on your mind, and you're not sure what to do about it.'

'Maybe I just like being thorough,' she teased, grabbing the cloth from him.

Tōshirō narrowed his brows. 'I highly doubt that.' Thorough? Thorough just wasn't in Rangiku's dictionary, especially when it came to tedious tasks like these. The faster it was done, the better. 'You know I hate it when you lie to me, and I know when you're lying. Actually, as we're discussing this, it might be worth me mentioning you haven't been very honest with me recently anyway.'

'I have no idea what you're talking about.'

'Really?' Hitsugaya challenged. 'I distinctly remember the other day that you said you had to attend a Vice-Captain meeting. There wasn't one. I later discovered you used that as an excuse to get out of work. Oh, and I still have the paperwork you allegedly completed. If you'd like it back, I left it where it was, under the floorboard.'

Rangiku inhaled. 'Someone's been busy.'

'Yes, someone has. I just wish this someone was you.'

Wait –– was he telling her off? Rangiku caught his gaze and almost winced. His irises seemed to glow, daring her to respond. From where she stood, she could feel his spiritual pressure, how it slowly circled around her body, chilling the blood which ran through her veins. She shivered once, and decided it would be wise to just stare out of the window. That was a far nicer view. Over the years, Tōshirō had grown, his appearance maturing, until he finally looked like a man.

There was no problem with this. However, it was how dark he managed to look. His tanned skin was a shocking contrast to his snow-white hair, which was messy and untamed. The Captain's eyes were still as proud as a wild beast's, but they now possessed this distant anger in them, and Rangiku wasn't sure why. Tōshirō was brilliant at covering his emotions. She hadn't witnessed him furious for such a long time. Only Rangiku would be able to analyse his features so well, though.

'I don't want my windows to be cleaned, Matsumoto. I want you to obey my commands.'

'When have I ever not obeyed your––' That was when she noticed the cut across his jawline where the razor had caught him. 'You're bleeding,' she said, carefully dabbing her fingertip against the wound just to be sure. She was right. 'Are you incapable of looking after yourself, Captain? Or do I have to come round and babysit you?'

Groaning, Hitsugaya allowed the Shinigami to fetch a tissue from her desk and wipe away the blood from his jaw. Tōshirō's gaze dropped, watching Rangiku, trying to catch her eye but when she raised her head to look at him, he turned his attention away.

'You look better shaved, Captain.'

At first, he was insulted, then realised she was only throwing him a compliment. Or, better, advice. Nodding, he waited until Rangiku had removed the blood. 'Thank you.' A pause. A small, uncertain twitched across his lips. 'You have paperwork to complete.' It wasn't what she wanted to hear, and he felt his heart drop when she placed the cloth back into his hands and found her desk.

Sitting down himself, Tōshirō placed the cloth away, and began to organise his paperwork and write away. He was a machine, unable to be stopped, not even splitting his focus to whoever required his attention. Tōshirō much preferred to remain undisturbed, and, thankfully, Rangiku was there to make sure his privacy was guaranteed. When he was half way through, he swiftly flicked his gaze to his sleeping Lieutenant.

A roll of the eyes. 'Matsumoto!'

At once Rangiku jumped in her seat, blinked several times, confused. Tōshirō shook his head and returned to work. Matsumoto sleeping on the job wasn't so bad. At least she wasn't skipping off somewhere.

'If you keep waking me up like that, Captain, I'm bound to have a heart attack.'

Tōshirō pulled a crooked smile. 'Good. That would mean less noise.'

Wow. Rangiku threw him a look. 'Charming, Sir.' Then she tutted. 'You'd hate not having me around.'

'Maybe.' She recognised that expression and, for a couple of seconds, she allowed herself to smile before quickly letting it vanish. No way she was giving him the pleasure of knowing he made her laugh. Tōshirō wasn't an idiot, though. Whatever the situation, he always noticed her smiles; they were full of life, and made his life that much brighter. She, in every way, was bright. Even though he would never admit this to her, Tōshirō would fall into a pit of darkness if she were no longer by his side.

If anything, she was the only individual he knew who could see some positive element in the world, and he would always treasure that. Treasure her.

The office fell into silence again, and after a few more hours, he heard Rangiku stand to her feet and approach his desk. From the corner of his eye, he watched her grab the cloth from the desk and continue wiping the windows. Tōshirō pretended to not notice, but, instantly, he started wondering why she automatically hurried over to distract her mind like that. It might not have been the paperwork which directly affected her, but it was something else. Something horrifying.

When the clock struck four in the afternoon, Tōshirō stopped writing. He looked over at Rangiku, who had now given up wiping completely, eyes on whatever was out there, allowing her mind to drift. Tōshirō wanted to ask what was wrong, what had made her act this way. Then, he realised: that was none of his business. If wiping the windows, or doing something utterly ridiculous like that helped her get through the workday, then so be it.

But... he still wasn't satisfied. There was something wrong.

'I'm meeting Abarai for some training. You have a good evening, Matsumoto.'

A quick nod, but she barely heard his words. Tōshirō paused, then allowed his heart to split in two. It was so obvious what was wrong, and he cursed himself bitterly when leaving the office. Was this disappointment? Disappointment it took him this long to realise what was wrong? Why, her unusual behaviour had been frequent for quite a while. He had just never witnessed it like that before, never witnessed her character switch, and he knew she also noticed. Noticed that her mentality was beginning to crumble.

Yet, even though he knew what was wrong, why did it affect him so? The last time Tōshirō felt this way was–– years ago. It was as if her misery had unlocked a door within him, and released the dread. Exhaling slowly, he stopped walking through the hallways and closed his eyes. There was no reason for panic or frustration. He had to remain calm. Many feared his anger and rage, and they had good reason to. Out of the majority of powerful Shinigami, Tōshirō was one of the most frightening.

'That's all?'

Slam!

'... Ah, bloody hell, Hitsugaya! You can be such a drama queen–– Oi!'

Wam! Blood sprayed across the floor, and the redheaded Shinigami flew back. Wiping his wounded cheek, he looked over at the younger man. A devilish grin reached his lips, and, grabbing his zanpakutō, he positioned himself properly before darting towards the Captain.

'Zabimaru, "Roar"!'

Like a whip, his zanpakutō came for Hitsugaya. In a flash, the Captain dodged out of the way, but Renji was prepared for this. He jolted his arm back, allowing Zabimaru to swerve and cut across Tōshirō's cheek. Hitsugaya seethed, shocked he allowed himself to get hurt, and by an insubordinate too. Was he distracted? By what? Surely he wasnt––

'Quit worrying over what's for dinner, Captain, and focus on what's happening here!'

'Hyōrinmaru, "Sit Upon The Frozen Heavens"!'

'That's more like it.'

A dragon of ice roared, bursting from Hitsugaya's zanpakutō and aiming straight for Renji's, jaws open. Renji had Zabimaru attempt to slice through the dragon's neck, which, at first, appeared successful. However, Tōshirō was stronger than he assumed. The dragon was in his control very quickly, and ice exploded around the redheaded Shinigami, freezing him in place. Growling in frustration, Renji tried to break free of the ice cemented around his body.

Shit. 'That was a bit much, Hitsugaya.'

It was. Too much. Tōshirō swallowed and soon had the ice melt from Renji's form. The room had grown drastically cold, and Renji found himself shivering. Although Hitsugaya's abilities were admirable, they were–– different. Dangerous, even. The man had trained very hard since he was young and, now, he was almost invincible. Of course it was pointless of Renji to even bother fighting against him, but Tōshirō was ridiculously eager: he wanted to have someone to train with.

'Sorry, Abarai,' Hitsugaya said, sheathing his zanpakutō. 'I went a little ahead of myself there.'

Renji watched the Captain walk to the other end of the room to fetch his haori, and cocked a brow. 'Want to tell me why?'

'No,' Tōshirō said. Because even I don't know what's wrong.

Then he sat down on the floor and lay down, resting his hands behind his head. Ever since he left the office, leaving Matsumoto alone with her godforsaken precious windows, he hadn't felt as stable as usual. Maybe it was the frustration of knowing something wasn't right, or maybe it was the fact he didn't trust her to finish her paperwork without him watching. Or, maybe, it was because he simply didn't know. One would only go through such measures to distract themselves if–– if they––

–– If they weren't happy.

Closing his eyes, Tōshirō wished he could stop thinking.

'You look tired, Captain.'

'I'm not tired,' Tōshirō said. 'I sleep plenty.'

'Uhh...' Renji sat down beside the resting Shinigami. 'Fine, not tired due to lack of sleep, then. I mean, tired in general.'

Tōshirō opened his eyes. 'I'm tired of secrets, Abarai.'

Renji looked at him. 'That's funny, seeing as your the King of secre––'

'Very funny.' Sighing, the Captain sat upright. Then he started chuckling. This was so bizarre. 'I think I know what's wrong with me.'

'You mean there's only one thing wrong?'

Tōshirō could feel his heart: pounding heavily against his ribcage. It was comforting, to know he was alive. His mind raced, so quick and filled with ideas, words and confusion. He was clammy, felt a little sick. Despite the emotions crashing through him, he felt all right. The anger had gone, and in replacement was this sort of odd numbness.

It was funny that, sitting there, all he could think about was one individual. He wondered if she was still in the office, working, wiping the windows, drinking alcohol with fellow colleagues, doing something stupid like she would. Yet, he doubted that. After observing her earlier today, she had shown a shadow hovering over her, constant and grinning. It was killing her slowly.

And, like an idiot, he just watched from afar. Let the demons take their toll.

'I'm in love.'