Fulfilling the prompt 'secret rendezvous' for the recent Bleach Het Community activity. This fic actually turned out extremely different from what I'd initially imagined (it's pretty much a totally separate take on the prompt now - summary may hint at that XD). I'm still just a beginner at this pairing, so I hope you'll enjoy, nonetheless. :)
Title: For A Glimpse
Author: Harmony (Silver Harmony)
Characters/Pairing: Hinamori, Aizen/Hina, blink-and-you'll-miss-it-Kira/Hina
Word Count: Approximately 926.
Disclaimer: Not mine – otherwise this pairing would be canon.
Notes: This has been cross-posted to aizenmomo, asterisk_plus, bleach_het and kurosaki_clinic.
Feedback: Very much appreciated, as I would like to write much better Bleach fics. Your concrits mean a lot to me, especially when it tells me what you think of the story and what I can do to improve. Please and thank you.
Summary: It still felt like she was seeing him each morning.
Momo felt it was her job to keep his office spotless and tidy.
She didn’t open the windows, but she always left the door open for air. Captain Aizen always preferred it that way, and she kept it that way, even when her subordinates had uncomfortably suggested that the room be kept closed. It was only up to her, now, to keep things running the way they always should. This morning, just like every other morning, she carried a tray with a single teacup over to the work desk, her eyes briefly meeting the small, framed portrait that stood on one of the large shelves behind it.
She placed the steaming cup onto the desk and lifted the stale full cup from yesterday’s morning.
‘Jasmine tea,’ she said under her breath, the corners of her mouth faintly curling upwards. You always drink the same one, Aizen-Taicho.
The cold cup clinked as she placed it down onto the tray. All of this, it was the same thing that she did every morning, without fail, ever since she had become vice-captain underneath him. It was the same smell of hot tea, the same remnants of gentle reiatsu lingering in the walls, the same warm sunlight streaming through the windows. She was used to it – it was part of her daily routine, and she wouldn’t miss it, not for anything.
Momo pulled out the piece of cloth hanging from her obi and began to run it over the desk, even though the surface had gathered hardly any dust since the previous morning. Captain Aizen might have known that it was her who wiped down his desk every day. She never had to tell him it was her; he smiled at her with tender gratitude as he stepped into the office each morning, and she always felt an unashamed flutter of pleasure and pride, just seeing it. Every day, anything was worth a glimpse of that smile.
Her fingertips passed a small fracture on the edge of the desk; she had accidentally knocked the tea tray into the smooth surface several years ago. She remembered that she had been so distressed and apologetic that Captain Aizen had to reassure her afterwards that she had done no terrible damage. Her hands ran over the fracture each day, and her fingertips remembered its shape, its roughness.
Taicho – I’m still sorry.
It didn’t take long. After she was done, she moved on and skimmed the cloth briefly over the spines of the record books left on the shelves, even though they were barely covered in any dust, either. Everything was kept clean, and nothing smelled musty; even if it did, she didn’t notice.
‘I’m done,’ she eventually said distantly to the portrait, pleased. Momo straightened up and placed the used cloth down onto the tray. Captain Aizen would always be proud of her for working so loyally, so willingly hard for him, and she would always admire him for inspiring it in her. Her fingers absent-mindedly reached out to the desk, to the petals of the flowers that she had brought over in a vase just the previous day. Soft and tender, its scent faint, but present all the same; just like him.
If she held her breath, she could almost feel him there.
‘Good morning.’ Always a gentle voice. ‘Hinamori-kun.’
She whirled around suddenly. Her heart pounded.
But it was Kira standing there, in the doorway. He was gazing at her, his features mild with concern; she could already feel his reiatsu reaching her, surrounding her, such that she could barely feel the last lingering traces of Captain Aizen's reiatsu dwelling within these walls anymore, and she couldn’t help but miss it. There was something about the blond's presence, maybe, that was too comforting. Kira, so kind, so faithful… he was always so worried for people other than himself that sometimes it was hard for Momo to believe that he had been betrayed by his captain. She knew why: despite their losses, he and Hisagi were getting by.
A faint, dull pain began aching somewhere inside her.
‘Just cleaning up?’
‘There wasn’t much to do,’ Momo answered, willing her lips to curve into a smile. ‘But I’ve finished.’
His eyes brightened with what looked like some degree of relief, and for a fleeting moment, Momo secretly wished that his expression of concern had lingered just a little longer. As soon as the thought crossed her mind, she felt utterly guilty and selfish. She bit down on her lip.
‘Why don’t you come join me for breakfast?’ Kira offered.
She nodded in gratitude. ‘I would love to, Kira-kun.’
He nodded back in acknowledgement, and turned and walked away, out of the office. Silence, calm and still, returned to the space that he had left behind.
She slowly turned her face to look to the shelf. Captain Aizen, his gaze ever-warm, was smiling at her, just like he had every day when he stepped into the office. She tried to ignore the muted aching in her chest. Whether or not he was there anymore, it still felt a little like she was seeing him each morning; it was her secret, and whatever anyone may have thought, it was still worth it. Anything, just for a glimpse of that smile.
‘I’m going now, Aizen-Taicho,’ she said softly. ‘I’ll be back tomorrow morning.’
She carefully gathered up the tray on the table, lowered her head briefly and left the office.
There was breakfast, and then duties to return to. After all, everyone else was getting by.