A/N: A word ‘challenge’ was mentioned so I had to write a fic where I used all of the prompts ‘:D Actually it wasn’t using all of the prompts that was difficult (just my perfectionism) but I don’t know how it seems to a reader. I especially want to note that I didn’t write both angels and shrines in the same story out of disrespect to any existing religion. Also, the ending was supposed to be happier (I got bad news and then didn’t feel like writing something very happy), sorry about it. I hope you’re all well and able to be where you want to be.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Matsumoto will be up and about in no time and then you’ll be transferred back to the healing wards,” Hitsugaya announced, marching along empty streets without even looking if his partner was following him or not – which, judging by the echo of rapid steps and slightly labored breathing behind him, she was doing. Streets lights were far and few between, coloring his hair and wings with warm yellow hue only for moments before he dived back into darkness, yet she knew where he was going. Whether he wanted or not, they had a bond – a bond that made them too good a battle pair for higher-ups to pass the opportunity to put them on patrol together. And maybe there was also a fact that he wouldn’t leave her alone, not in proximity of a possible enemy, no matter how pissed off he was.
“Hey, don’t make it sound like I should be on a hospital bed right now,” Hinamori huffed. “First of all, I didn’t get so hurt as badly as you two because I arrived later. Second, I’m a field healer, which means I work more outside of the healing wards than there, as you already know.”
As Hinamori said that, she had almost reached him, for which she had to stumble a step backward when he suddenly twirled around, a frown furrowing his eyebrows. Automatically, Hinamori’s wings fluttered to balance her, the fact that certainly didn’t pass by Hitsugaya’s sharp gaze, like neither did a deep blush that her cheeks acquired.
Why was it nowadays so difficult to be around him? It wasn’t his fault, she knew it, for he continued being the same person as always, worried about her well-being. If there was someone at fault, it was her. His proximity had begun to produce physical reactions in her she didn’t know how to interpret, how to deal with. Was it fine her cheeks flushed red when he looked at her, or was there a medical condition involved that had nothing do with him? Why would she stumble when he walked too close if there was nothing else than plain ground? Deep down, she feared she knew why. But if a realization were a person, she was continuously turning around when they came from the opposite direction, taking stairs instead of lift, blocking their number.
Because their bond was worth fostering, and not only because they fought well together. Despite difficult moments, for most of time their friendship was so easy. A wave of warmth washed over her when her mind transported her back to a moment a week ago, to the night neither of them had had to patrol, their laugh still ringing in her ears. In her company his usual frown disappeared (or at least very often), substituted by a slight smile, a teasing smirk or a small chuckle.
They had walked through the part of the town that was almost void of demonic and thus angelic activity too, hardly passing by any patrols, talking or just enjoying a silence they wasn’t used to associating with nights, stars usually witnessing a clash of blades instead of their casual hanging out. In outskirts of the town, moments before they had been about to turn and return, they had stumbled upon a shrine. In contrast to other shrines that worked as outposts to angels and helped to keep demons at bay, the shrine’s once bright colors had been dimmed, the same way its magical protection. When demonic activity had reduced in that part of the town and soared in others, there hadn’t been time or resources to take care of that particular shrine. Once it had served well, then discharged and forgotten.
Up until the moment Hinamori and Hitsugaya had found it.
Since it was a beginning of the spring, they hadn’t had fresh lavender, the flower that worked against devil, to recreate the protection the shrine had had, but they had planted seeds in the soil around the shrine and decorated it with dry lavender as a temporary protection until the plants would have grown. If Matsumoto had been there, she would have scolded them for using their night off for doing something that they could do in working hours without no one being able to say anything, instead of – well, it was better ignore Matsumoto’s suggestions what to do in their free time, she sometimes had funny ideas about Hitsugaya and Hinamori’s friendship.
Yet in their opinion – Hinamori voicing her thought aloud and a corner of Hitsugaya’s lip rising in agreement –, it had been the best use of their time because the company had changed everything. Though Hinamori had somehow managed to bang her head, scratching the same area on her forehead that a demon would injury the following day, they had had fun.
His fingers brushing the injury, almost faded into a sole memory, brought her out of her thoughts, sadness in his gaze trapping her and crushing her heart. Then he dropped his hand and turned to look at the same shrine they had visited a week ago, when it still had been in an area ignored both by angels and demons, before they had noticed a great amount of demonic activity there and sent Hitsuagya’s patrol into trap. Some parts of the shrine were burnt, tips of lavenders black, still reflecting the aftermath of the battle.
It could have been worse. Still, Hinamori didn’t like the tightness in Hitsugaya’s shoulders, the way he suddenly seemed to dodge her gaze.
When Hitsugaya finally talked, she almost felt a need to pinch herself to make sure she was dreaming – or having a nightmare, to be precise. “Do you ever feel that everything you do is in vain?”
No, Hinamori wouldn’t have given Hitsugaya the prize of the most optimist person, but asking questions like that, sounding like he was giving up, it wasn’t something he used to do. No matter how many times he fell, the Hitsugaya she knew stood up time after time. But everyone had moments of weakness sometimes, like when Hinamori had run to help wounded Hitsugaya ignoring a high presence of demonic activity near, in contrast to all the training she had had.
“Hitsugaya,” Hinamori said carefully, her eyes fixed on him to observe the tiniest change in his posture, “it wasn’t your fault.”
If possible, his posture tightened even more. “No? I couldn’t protect you.” His voice was composed by shards that tore Hinamori’s heart, shards of self-loathing, anger, sadness. She took a step forward, reaching out with her hand, almost dropping it but finally taking hold of his sleeve and leaning her head against his shoulder, feelings his tense muscles. “You’ve protected me many times in past,” she comforted him, “and I can protect myself, too. But sometimes we commit errors and luck isn’t on our side,” her lips tried to form a smile even though his desperate gaze were still on the half-destroyed shrine.
“I know,” Hitsugaya whispered. “Matsumoto and I would have died if you hadn’t come, but...I just...when I saw you...”
“I know,” said Hinamori this time, a tremble cursing through her body as an imagine of Hitsugaya on the ground flashed in her mind, his blood bright red on his wings and hair, his grip of his sword’s halt loosened. The anger and fear – love – that moved her before her mind had time to evaluate the situation. The understanding of their feelings for each other as she listened to his words and wrapped her arms around his waist, supporting him the way he always supported her. “I know.”
