An old head, held up by small shoulders. Startling white hair, already beginning to grey, twisted at the nape of his neck. Blue eyes, screaming innocence, which do not belong to a veteran. That is the first memory she has of him: great and powerless.
The boy had observed her with a funny curiosity. This bizarre, gorgeous creature: his own adjutant. From appearance, she was clearly a couple of decades older than him. Enough time missed between them in order for their behaviour to be different; she the mature one, he the foolish child. And yet, they saw the other as equals.
Initially, she considered him tiny and fragile. Something desperate. Frantically pursuing a trap to control his wild abilities. The child froze everything that he touched, and it was tragic. His own grandmother’s heart had nearly turned to ice. That is, if she didn’t step into his life before fatality took its toll.
The next time they met, he was gowned as a recruit. Ready to be judged and criticised and harshly disciplined. He was still small, and he was still old, and he was still curious about her. The boy held out his hand–– already soiled in dry blood––and she noticed how smooth his fingers are, the roughness of his palm; he held her gaze.
And then she realised
it was his eyes. They possessed no naivety whatsoever. There was nothing reflected in this boy’s face which showed the mind of a youth. This boy was ageing, this boy had lived many lives, and he was tired. An exhausted soldier who held far more knowledge than beyond her years
She was shocked by the depth of his voice. Already the Gotei 13 had shook something wild in him.
Snapping out of her reverie, she decided to tease him: ‘Ah, you remember! Turns out there is a brain in that thick skull of yours.’ She knocked his head lightly with her knuckles.
He scowled. She laughed.
Her laughter was like rain, and he was immediately caught in the storm.
But his feet were stubborn. Legs strong, and his whole body resisted the urge to run. For some reason, he was attached to her. He had to hear her laugh again, had to be near to her. It was a connection that he could not describe, but all he knew was that she was important.
Their fates were sealed in that one handshake. If he had known––if they had known––how absolutely vital he would be to her, then perhaps he would have been more terrified than he is now.
Do you still ship hitsumatsu? Any news/hopes/works/theories about them?
UUh nice, thank you for that ask! Yes, I am still shipping HitsuMatsu!! And actually I’ve drawn a lot of HitsuMatsu doodles recently so yeah I’m somwhat active with that ship.
Although I must admit that I don’t feel to be the person who is suited to write beautiful essays, I would recommend my friend’s blog! (Just ask her any questions about HitsuMatsu she is happy to answer them :D) Anyways I am always open to ramble about how much I love them, but I don’t think that this was part of your question? <3
I absolutely love HitsuMatsu. Even if you don’t ship them I hope you understand their special relationship. It goes beyond a captain and a commander, they genuinely care for each other’s well being in every regard. Toshiro considers her someone who showed him that his life had meaning, and Rangiku considers herself an assist to someone’s life when no one was to her’s, she wants to help someone she cares about. They aren’t in love with each other as far as I can see. But the care and admiration they have for each other makes me flutter. Anywho what I’m trying to say is there a special relationship between these two that is undeniable. So don’t you dare disrespect HitsuMatsu ya dig!?