Disclaimer; I don't own Bleach. Nuff said.
Deceiving and Growing
It was odd, coming here the first time, the second time, even the third, realizing that the trees would always be flowering, petals raining down on her with soft and gentle caresses. The only time it was different was when it rained, the bitterly cold water turning the ground into a mire of mud, the trees shaking in a fierce wind that on any other day would be a warm, reassuring breeze. It had rained a lot recently, she noted, kicking at one of the branches littering the ground.
The other thing that had stuck her as odd was the spirit. It wasn't so much the size - after all, she should know better than anyone that size doesn't matter - but so much as that the form didn't suit. The small, almost sprite like creature with a laugh like wind chimes in a summer breeze and a voice like silk and honey did not match the zanpakuto's power. Firebird, they said, but the form she knew suited the name Flying Plum better, that much was evident. The small, bird-like wings in crimson gold contrasted sharply with the light pink blossoms that were her hair. She hadn't noticed anything wrong with the zanpakuto, in fact liking the smaller, childish spirit a lot more than Rangiku's lazy cat, Hitsugaya's roaring dragon, Abarai's snarky chimera. So Tobiume and Hinamori had spent years perfecting their bond, the zanpakuto letting her see what she wanted, both with the firm belief in protecting each other and those around them with the brightest of fires.
But Tobiume had noticed Hinamori's comfort in the known; in the way she knew what would happen, the way the papers were always the same sort, her route to and from the division's offices the same. And Tobiume's whispered warning fell on deaf ears - I need room to grow, Momo. Normalacy and structure are inhibiting. You honestly think this is my real form? - Hinamori herself too wrapped up in thoughts of being the best vice captain with no dreams to ascend higher. Bankai was a captain's job, she assumed, and Tobiume's flame grew a little colder with each day that Hinamori was content to be nothing more than a diligent vice.
As she lay there, in the wet ground, rain falling once more as she let the memories wash over her, Tobiume growled from the shelter of the trees. You're not a child. Didn't you pull your hair up to look more mature? Are you going to let this one thing prevent you from protecting those you love most?
"Shut up." No more than a whisper, all the girl could manage. Here was safe, even in the near torrential downpour, here was light and dark in a happy medium, here she wasn't scarred, broken, defeated. Here it didn't matter that she'd been abandoned by everything she'd ever believed in.
The trees were petal-less for the first time, when she next opened her eyes. The mud held her down and it was with great effort that she scrambled to her feet, futile efforts to brush off the dirt even as the rain continued. She could have been out for days or mere minutes. She'd always managed to lose track of time in here.
Branches and withered flowers littered the ground.
It had used to be a pretty place. But now even Tobiume hid from view, way back in the trees, away from the girl that didn't realize that the gentle sprite was only the first stage. The zanpakauto had grown tired of Hinamori's attempts to hold on to some shred of her childhood, had removed its warmth. I chose you for a reason. I wanted someone who would help me grow. I wanted you because you could grow too.
Fire isn't anger. It doesn't have to be hot. True fire is the absence of heat, Momo. What do I have to do for you to realize that? I won't break this bond. I won't. She shivered, freezing, the wind ripping through her shinigami robes like they didn't exist. Like she didn't exist.
Her existence was worthless, a mess of confusion ever since she'd found her dead captain alive and holding his zanpakuto to her flesh. She was broken, she realized with a whimper, she was scarred, broken, defeated. Dead. She had been left for dead, with no one to come to her aid, no one but her captain with his suddenly cold face.
She woke up screaming.
The fourth division members had never heard a more chilling noise.
She hadn't returned since that day, hadn't dared pick up her zanpakuto and face its materialized form. But now it was forceful, pulling her back as Hitsugaya faded from her vision and she wanted to scream for him to help her but what could he do, really? He'd looked defeated at her insistence that her captain was being used, and he was so far away now. Fire ripped at her body and she realized with a sinking heart that no matter how much it rained the still petal-less trees continued to burn, all the brighter as wind whipped through them. She screamed for the sake of screaming, cried because it only added to the water running down her face.
The fire was cold to the touch, far colder than anything she'd ever felt, probably even colder than Hitsugaya's bankai and she realized for the first time that she was afraid of herself, afraid of the zanpakuto spirit that regarded her with a frown. Are you going to let yourself become ash?
No.
Are you going to give in?
No.
Will you continue to stay as you are?
No.
Are you afraid of this coldness?
No.
Are you unhappy, Momo?
She screamed again, screamed until her throat was raw, until she was choking on her tears and the rain, hands numb from clutching mud and withered grass. "Unhappy?" she sobbed out, voice gaining a hard edge as her blurred gaze settled on the only real colour in the forest - the crimson gold wings - and she continued "Unhappy? How can I be anything but unhappy? This place is dead, Tobiume! And I'm as good as dead with it!"
No. You are alive, Momo. Your soul still burns. He smothered you, kept you banked as a means of holding power over you. But this place can bloom again from your own will, if you let it. We won't ever be the same, but we will be together. I won't let you give in, Hinamori Momo. You belong to me, not the traitorous man. The entirety of the thirteen squads could not keep me from claiming you. If you know nothing else, know that.
She shrank away from the silk and honey voice, shrank away because it suddenly contained so much more than that, a burning edge that spoke of heat and desire and want and need and all the things Hinamori had refused herself in her quest to become as Aizen wanted - a flame user that didn't burn. She would laugh if her broken voice had been capable of it, the irony of that simple statement washing over her. How could she not burn? Burn with her childish emotions, her desire to protect, to serve, to be something to him, burn with the flame that was and would always be Tobiume.
She was burning now and she could feel it, hotter, colder, a hundred times worse than it had been the first time flames had licked her skin and the name Tobiume had graced her tongue. The fire that didn't touch her was ripping down her defenses and tearing away the darkness she tried to hide in so desperately. "I don't want it! I don't! If he's not here, I have nothing! Why won't they believe in him like I do?"
Because people cannot trust as easily as you do.
"But he was my captain!"
He was a man of illusion.
"He was everything!"
You have so much more than just him.
"Everything, Tobiume, everything!"
Stand, Hinamori Momo. Stand, or I will tear you apart as he tried to. Why do you not see that which is around you?
She snarled in response. Snarled, because her words were failing her. She knew it was a forced belief, her mind trying so hard to hang onto the last sight of him, the kind man with the kind smile and the kind nature and the kind words and the cold steel forcing its way though her and the cold way her blood had felt upon her hands and the hard way she'd hit the ground and the blank stare as he watched her breathing slow and-
And she was on her feet, snarling, growling, fists clenched. "What am I supposed to do? There is nothing to believe in if not him!"
Believe in me. Let me become what I should so you can too. Swallow the flame, little one. They call you Firebird, yes? Let us become worthy of such a name. These wings will grow too.
"Tell me how!" Tears streamed down her face as thunder boomed, lightning ripping the sky open as the downpour continued.
I cannot. If you will not do this for yourself, then you will remain here, Momo. You will die, and I with you. That is our fate.
"Firebird?"
Fire is cleansing. It can eradicate anything it wishes, melt the coldest ice, evaporate the deepest water, banish the darkness and intensify the light. It will continue to burn, the strongest wind only fanning the flames, earth and wood only fuel to it. You have the strength to find this, if you want. But you must reach beyond what you are, beyond that man. Do not forget those that helped bring you here, but do not settle for their words. If you are to do this, you cannot trust anyone but yourself.
"What... what do you mean?"
Poor girl... Sleep. Quiet yourself, this place, your heart and your heat. Stop the rain, and we will start. Understanding will come.
As soon as the words were between them Hinamori had sunk back into the mud and this time Tobiume moved closer, wings outstretched to shelter her from the rain as it finally showed signs of lessening. Her gaze was intense, but she had faith. After all, she hadn't picked the meek girl because she liked this form; she had chosen her for the potential that burned just out of reach. The potential she didn't know she had, the potential Aizen had seen, used to his own end, allowed to shine in the directions he saw fit. But no more. Tobiume would see to it that Hinamori's potential was unleashed fully, even if it meant a larger scar than she already bore. The first time, Tobiume had allowed the gentle flames to lick at her fingers, the soft caress of wind and leaves and petals on her cheek.
This time it would be an all consuming fire that would not cease. Hinamori would suffer through it, or she would become ash. There was no other way, in the zanpakuto's mind.
The trees finally started to burn with real fire. They would plant new trees when she woke. New trees, and new memories, not to replace those that came before, but to strengthen what would come next.
Yes, she purred, stroking the captive dark hair. We will burn, Momo. But those that have reduced you to this state will find you impervious to fire if you make it through this. And immunity to fire is one of the greatest strengths a shinigami can have, little one. Let us burn, and we will grow.
Unohana watched carefully as the young vice captain tossed feverishly in her bed, sweat coating her forehead and warm to the touch. Whatever was going on, it was her honest belief that Hinamori would persevere. She had to, after all. Her zanpakuto was calling her, and no shinigami could refuse the call of such a powerful entity, no matter their physical or mental state.
When you were called, you went.