what did you ask for? (to be with you)
Hitsugaya stares at her as if she’s speaking in tongues. He turns his attention back to the more scenic sight, missing the look Hinamori gives him. She’ll describe it as longing, in a much later time when they’re all grown up. Today, as they finish dinner with his grandmother, she’ll break the news. It will be the first time that he'll become uncomfortable with winter. His seasons, previously enjoyed with performative nonchalance, will lose color and comparatively feel dull than any others before.
Hinamori can barely keep up with Hitsugaya’s strong, nimble limbs. She might be older (if we assume by height), but their ages might not be too far apart for her to be breathless like this.
It’s the cold, Her exhale immediately gets lost in the curtain of thick fog. She relies on her feet and muscle memory and the numerous indentations left by fellow dwellers to not veer off the trail. At the peak, there is a statue, and while West Rukongai does not necessarily worship, there is a belief that the stones molded into shape will grant your prayers, only that you have to climb it on the first day of snowfall.
Which turned out to be in the negatives today.
And yet, Hitsugaya is conquering the cotton killer fluff with a sleeveless undershirt and blind faith. He is warm where she is cold, and this natural affinity to adapt in harsh conditions stirs a foreign envy in her.
“Slowpoke!” His voice almost a howl. “We need to get back before my afternoon nap!”
“Shut up!” She yells back. It’s her folly, she guesses, to miss the crevice and slip against the crack. It’s a steep fall, her mind registers. I’ll probably die.
Calloused hand thrusts out from the icy veil to grab her wrist, followed by a grin so cheeky it can only be from someone indomitable.
When they reached the top, his sight was first grabbed by the sea of clouds while hers was the statue. It was simply a pile of rocks stacked on top of one another in dubious balance, but it managed to weather the biting wind, as well as the gasping heat and the torrential rains that came seasons before. Hinamori held her head down and prayed to this resilient structure.
“Be like this statue,” she replies, a bit lost in thought, “despite the changes.”
Hitsugaya stares at her as if she’s speaking in tongues. “You should have asked for a good harvest and lots of watermelons!” He sticks out his tongue in usual childhood annoyance and turns his attention back to the more scenic sight, missing the look Hinamori gives him. She’ll describe it as longing, in a much later time when they’re all grown up.
But today, as they finish dinner with his grandmother, she’ll break the news. “I’m going to Soul Society.”
It will be the first time that Hitsugaya becomes uncomfortable with winter. His seasons, previously enjoyed with performative nonchalance, will lose color and comparatively feel dull than any others before.
When Rangiku, his future lieutenant and his would-be confidante, finally sniffs him out due to his uncontrollable reishi, Hitsugaya sets in plan his destiny in Seireitei. After all, Hinamori wasn’t the only one to make a wish to that statue on that day.
A childhood plea but a sincere intention all the same.
To be together, even for a little longer. Despite the changes.
