This is going to be the last chapter for a while. It acts quite well as an ending, but I know there are still a few things to be resolved, my crazy time jumping out of order writing made sure of that. Enjoy.
Chapter 8: Ladies
There were five women in Hitsugaya's life. They weren't all there at the same time, but they were all important.
The first was the old lady who had looked after him as a child. She was like a grandmother to him.
Then was Hinamori, she was his first love, but whether he loved her like a sister, like a friend or something else he never could disentangle.
Then came Matsumoto. Sometimes she was a mother, sometimes she was a child. She was always a friend. Matsumoto was his partner, his support, the one who drove him crazy and the one who kept him sane.
Orihime was only in his life for a short time, but he still cared for her. They were companions in quietness. He cried when she died. Both times.
The last was also one of the first, but his relationship changed with her so much. Yachiru had been an annoyance and a reassurance, the only shinigami shorter than him. She was always shorter than him, even when she got taller. And she was one of the few people who didn't act differently towards him after the end of the War. They had gown up together. That led to them growing close.
"Shiro-chan!" Yachiru bounced up to Hitsugaya. "Everyone is being boring."
"Hitsugaya-tachiou."
They were attending a party to celebrate Yorichi and Urahara's return to Soul Society. It was almost early morning and most people were asleep in garden. Hitsugaya liked the twilight. He had been looking for a blanket for Ukitake.
"Everyone is asleep." He laid the blanket over the shivering man who curled up comfortably.
"Yeah, boring"
Realising that he could never get Yachiru to be quiet Hitsugaya led her away from the sleeping people. "Let's go look at the sunrise from the top of execution hill."
Yachiru nodded and dashed away.
Hitsugaya found her sitting on the edge of the cliff, whistling a tune and swinging her legs back and forth. There was something adorable about her.
He sat down beside her. It seemed even Yachiru could be quietened by the beauty of a sunrise.
When the sun had well and truly risen Yachiru leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. She blushed, he blushed.
Hitsugaya didn't see her for a few weeks. But he remembered her and he remembered that kiss. He hadn't thought anyone would ever kiss him like that.
Once after they were much more comfortable, a few centuries later he asked her, "Yachiru, why were you the only one who could bear to stay near me after the battle with Aizen?"
Yachiru climbed into his lap and pulled his arms around her. Hitsugaya rested his head on hers.
"You got much shinier Shirou-chan. Too shiny for everyone else. But I grew up with Ken-chan so being around shiny people never bothered me. You're no worse than Ken-chan when he gets angry. But that time he chased you round rungokai for climbing into my room, then you were both too shiny. It was funny but it gave me a headache."
"Oh so you'd rather I hadn't snuck in?" Hitsugaya asked with a smirk.
"Hmmm, no. It was worth it." She snuggled into his chest and twisted to kiss his neck. "I like it when it snows and when Ken-chan gets to have fun."
Much, much later, when almost everyone who remembered what had gone before was themselves gone and memory became history, then legend, two people sat and had tea. Well one sat and the other dangled from the ceiling. Though she was very old, she still had pink hair. She dyed it now.
"Shiro-chan!" she called.
The old man woke with a start. He had dropped off in the middle of pouring tea. "Mm sorry." He tried to pour the tea, but it had frozen in the pot.
"Ah Yachiru-chan, I'm sorry."
"No worries Shiro-chan. Tea is stupid. Let's go for a walk."
The two old people wandered aimlessly through a sereitei which was very different from that of their youth. Gone was the distinction between seretei and rungokai. As they passed people bowed.
"Shiro-chan, Shiro-chan, Shiro-chan." Yachiru giggled. "You are too old to be Shiro-chan, Shiro-chan."
"I've always been too old to be called Shiro-chan." Hitsugaya had long ago given up trying to convince Yachiru to call him by his proper title. Now it didn't seem to matter. People were more likely to think he was too old than too young. He could still remember who it was who had always annoyed him by calling him Shiro-chan. He grabbed hold of Yachiru to stop her bouncing around and he held her hand. The two old people walked on like that.
The end grew closer. Soon only one person walked down the paths by the lake. The other had gone down fighting as she had always hoped, burning and glorious and victorious. "I beat the other guy, I beat him good... ....chan," she had mumbled.
That just left Hitsugaya. He wondered, as he often had before, how Yamamoto had felt. He missed his friends. But he still had people to protect. There were new threats, hollow hybrids created by a rouge scientist a few centuries back. And there were new shinigami being trained that he had to look after. Hitsugaya was still a protector.
But he was surprised many ways when he saw a flash of white hair in the ranks of graduating shinigami. He was surprised that the time had come. He was surprised at the sense of recognition, it was like looking at himself. In a way he was. But mostly Hitsugaya was surprised at how relieved he felt.
It would only be so long until his time was up. He looked forward to it.
And at the very end, when he had given up his life to protect everything and to usher in the new generation, Hitsugaya wasn't sad.
Everything was so white, so bright. But this time he was here to stay, at least for a while. The out of place feeling, which he had felt for so long that it almost became part of him, was gone. He was home and people were waiting to welcome him.
But even that ending ended. For nothing is permanent except change. Eventually, after many generations it was his turn to go back. The cycle of guardians had turned again. Hitsugaya was ready. The whiteness faded, everything became heavy and confused.
A young boy sat up in a field of snow. A snowball caught him straight across the ear. It stung. He looked round angrily for the person who had thrown it.
A young girl with golden hair was rolling around with laughter.
"You looked so surprised, Snowball," she giggled.
"Who are you?" the boy asked, scowling.
"I'm Moto Matsumi," she jumped up. "I'm dead. Who are you?"
"I'm..." the boy paused, a name dancing on the end of his tongue, "Hitsugaya Toshirou."
"Wow what a mouthful, Snowball." She shovelled snow down his neck and ran off laughing."
"Matsumoto!" he shouted.
"What?" Matsumi walked back, "That's not my name. It's Moto Matsumi. Say it, Matsumi."
"Sorry Matsumi, I don't know why I said that." The bright clearness where everything made sense was fading in his head. But when he looked in her blue eyes he could almost catch a glimpse of something clear and bright. A memory at the bottom of a deep pool.
Matsumi hugged him. "Aww you look so confused. I'm going to take you home with me. You've only just arrived right? Only just died?"
Toshirou struggled for a while, then realised he couldn't escape and muttered, "Sure," into Matsumi's shoulder.
"I'll look after you."
"I don't need looking after." Then Toshirou pushed her over in the snow and shoved some down her jumper. She scrambled up and pelted him with another snowball.
The two children laughed and played in the snow till it grew dark. Then they walked home.
All ends mark the beginning of something new.
So in the end (of sorts) I'm left wondering and hoping you'll wonder how things would have turned out if Hitsugaya and Matsumoto (yes that's her) had found each other instead of their respective childhood friends. If I get a good response and any more ideas then I might continue. Tell me what you want clearing up and I might.