Crack The Shutters | Chapter 3: Silence

When Matsumoto said this restaurant was "fancy", Tōshirō was expecting the same average diner. However, upon entering the building, he made a mental note to not ever underestimate Rangiku's words. "Fancy" just wasn't the word. He was almost certain they wouldn't be able to afford the meals here, they looked so divine and exquisite. Hitsugaya wasn't aware his Lieutenant's arm was still linked with his until she pulled away from him and made her way towards a waiter so he would find them a table.

Raising his gaze, he admired the chandeliers, the brilliant landscape paintings hung across the walls, the red, lavish carpet, the spiral staircase leading to a second floor. No wonder Matsumoto's paycheque ran out within a couple of days! If she was spending it on shopping and on places like these, it was amazing she still had an apartment back in Soul Society.

'Captain!'

So engrossed with his surroundings, Hitsugaya wasn't aware the waiter had already found them a table. Approaching Rangiku, mouth slightly ajar, he tried to think of what to say. Rangiku laughed at his priceless expression.

'How sheltered are you? Believe me, I've seen better places.'

Tōshirō frowned. 'Should you be saying that out loud?' Not that she'd give a damn if anyone heard. Together they sat down opposite one another, fortunate enough to have a table next to the window. It was a great view of the park, and the snow only made the scenery that much better. Dropping his gaze to inspect the menu, he almost fell of his seat when seeing the prices. 'We can't afford this!'

'What, why?'

Trust Rangiku to act so oblivious. Tōshirō seethed. 'I can only afford a glass of water over here, and that's still too much money they're asking for.'

'You're so harsh on yourself, Captain. Why don't you treat yourself for once? Nothing wrong with being a little rebellious, right?'

'Matsumoto...'

'Fiiine, but if you're not having a meal, I still am.'

Tōshirō opened his mouth to object, then sighed and gave in. Maybe it was a little silly of him to respond this way, but Hitsugaya was naturally very strict on how much money he spent. He rarely –– if ever –– spent money on himself, let alone food. But how many chances did he have to eat at a place like this? Glancing around at the other meals being served, he had to admit it would be a shame to miss out.

'All right,' he said.

The next problem was actually finding a meal for him. There were so many! When the waiter arrived, Tōshirō groaned in irritation. Hang on a second. Rangiku decided she may as well order first, seeing as her Captain was struggling. 'I'll have the chicken marengo, with a side of salad.'

When it was Tōshirō's turn, he still hadn't decided. This was so unusual. The Captain was the type who just went ahead with something without thinking over his options. '–– I'll have the same, please,' he said. The waiter nodded and asked for drinks. 'Uh––' Flipping heck! Can't he decide for me? 'Same as what my friend is having,' he said, gesturing to a sceptical Rangiku.

'Well, seeing as we're sharing everything, Captain, maybe we should have something to celebrate.' Turning to the waiter, she said, 'How about the Krug Brut Vintage? We'll have water as well.'

'Very good,' and the waiter made his leave.

Tōshirō frowned at her. 'The Krook... what?'

'Krug Brut Vintage. I had it once before. Probably was a bad idea to have downed the whole thing by myself, but it was tasty. If you look at your menu, Captain, you'll see it's actually the most expensive champagne––'

'What?' Grabbing his menu, Hitsugaya furiously searched for the drink. His eyes almost burst out of their sockets when he realised how much this was. 'Are you insane?' God, how much he wanted to wipe that grin off her face. 'I get that you wanted to celebrate my birthday, Matsumoto, but this is too much. Anyway, I don't like alcohol.'

It was as if the roof had fallen onto them. At once the smile vanished from Rangiku's face and she stared at him as if he were some creature from another planet. 'You don't like––? Who... Who doesn't like alcohol?'

'Me,' he murmured.

Staring at him for a while, Matsumoto wanted to laugh, but she wasn't too sure how. She understood if her Captain didn't like certain types of alcohol, but all of them? 'Well, by today, you should have a fondness for at least one type. I'm taking you somewhere that'll literally be serving you different drink after drink.'

'Are you trying to get me drunk?'

Rangiku smiled sweetly at him. 'Me? Get you drunk? Why, no.'

Tōshirō stared at her bluntly.

'Oh, c'mon, Captain! You're so boring sometimes.'

'I–– Excuse you! I am probably the most entertaining and kindest man you're ever going to meet, so watch your words. Remember I am also your boss.'

Somewhere within her, Rangiku growled, as if there was some sort of beast desperate to pounce. Yet she controlled herself. Admittedly, she was a bit too fond of a man who managed to tell her what to do, there were so little. Most either ran away from her or had an instant nosebleed. Not Tōshirō, though. He was practically immune to her charms.

Which, in some regards, was infuriating. Being her boss, and a fierce and handsome boss at that, she was quite fond of challenging him. Tōshirō never seemed to cooperate, though, like she just wasn't interesting for him. Which was odd. How could any man not find her interesting? Usually, Rangiku was the centre of attention, she had that much of a character.

'Yes, Sir,' she said quietly, hiding her smile behind the menu, eyes on him.

Tōshirō swerved his gaze to the flowers he bought her. She had placed them to the side, on the windowsill. Studying the variety of colours, he wondered how many other men had bought Rangiku flowers. Or, how many men had gone further than that. How many men had kissed her lips, held her close, touched her? The idea admittedly irked him slightly, but he didn't show it.

Folding his arms, he faced his Lieutenant again. 'How have you been?'

The question was a little awkward. 'I'm fine,' she said, narrowing her brows.

However, Tōshirō didn't want that as an answer. Leaning forwards in his seat, he lowered his voice just so she could hear, 'I meant long-term wise, Matsumoto. I know you've had it rough, and I just wanted to make sure you were all right.'

A pause, hesitance, then a smile. 'You're so silly, Captain. Like I said: I'm fine. Anyway, it's your day today. What are you doing asking about me? How have you been?' At first, it sounded like she was mocking him, but she was genuinely interested.

Falling back in his chair, Tōshirō held her gaze. Rangiku was stubborn, and private about matters which scarred her. She knew exactly what he meant, but if the topic made her this uncomfortable, it was best he avoided it. 'A bit bruised. Two days ago I almost broke my arm from training.' There was also the huge gash across his side. 'Other than that, I'm doing okay.'

'You work yourself too much, Sir.'

'Says you,' then he smiled a little.

'Breaks are important! How can you live life if you're working all the time? No wonder you're so grumpy. You have no one to be with, you're always at your desk.'

The smile had vanished in replacement with a scowl. Tōshirō hated it when people criticised his work-ethic, especially if this someone was Rangiku. He knew she had a point, though. The relationship he had with Momo was distancing, and the friends he made in The World of Living were out of his life. In fact, one could even say he only had Rangiku.

Was that lonely? Hitsugaya wasn't a needy person. In fact, the man was independent and strong-willed. He never required someone for comfort, never found himself going over to someone for a talk. Was that still loneliness, though?

Shrugging, he said, 'At least I got you to drag me away from work, then.'

As soon as he said this, their meals soon arrived. Their chicken marengo was certainly a masterpiece. Tōshirō's brows shot up. A chunk of chicken was in the centre, dripping with tomato juice, and decorated with olives, garlic, and a little salad. It smelt delicious, too. Tōshirō's mouth was watering by the time the waiter had poured their champagne.

Looking up at his companion when the waiter left, Hitsugaya didn't know what to say. 'How many times have you been here?'

'Oooh,' Rangiku thought hard, picking up her glass of champagne. 'Lost count.' Tōshirō widened his eyes. 'Now, Captain,' she raised her glass, 'Happy birthday. Here's hoping you live for another so many years.'

'I'm sure I will,' he said, clinking his glass with hers. He took a sip, and squirmed slightly by the taste. 'Unless something happened. What with our jobs, it is pretty unpredictable when one of us might just drop dead.' Then he realised that was not good conversation, especially at the table. 'I went on a little tangent there.'

Rangiku tried to smile. 'Don't worry–– I do that all the time.'

'What, speak pessimistically about your death?'

'It's a gripping topic to discuss, Captain.' The sarcasm was heavy in her tone, and, for a second, he wondered if he had upset her. He changed his mind, however, when she began to slice away a bit of her chicken and speak, 'By the way, if you complain about your meal here, they usually pay you back half the price.'

'I hope you aren't guilty of that.'

'Mebbe.'

'Matsumoto,' Tōshirō groaned. 'I'm surprised they still let you in. You must be a very odd customer. Coming frequently but always leaving with a complaint.'

'You're obviously a virgin to the world of a free market.'

'I'm just honest, Matsumoto.'

'Honesty doesn't get you very far, Sir.'

'At least you still have people's trust.' Rangiku met his gaze, and in that one look she knew what he was hinting at. Honesty. A bitch. A pain. Most of the time, Rangiku hated being honest. She would rather swim in lies, live a world which wasn't real. After everything, though, who could blame her? Tōshirō wanted to, but he couldn't. He cared too much–– a great weakness of his.

It was terrible that being around Tōshirō, someone she respected highly, made her lose her appetite. Matsumoto loved food, but she was easily disturbed. While she could be emotional, that didn't mean she was weak or incapable. She was very much a capable woman, able to follows orders and get what she wanted when she wanted.

Right now, though, Hitsugaya managed to make her feel small and she hated that. She hated that about him: his pessimistic, awful manner. Death was not something she wished to discuss, she didn't want to imagine him gone. The thought of losing him, Tōshirō, the boy she met all of those years ago, was painful. She didn't want to imagine; didn't want it to ever come true.

When he was nearly finished with his meal. Tōshirō noticed Rangiku wasn't even half way. She seemed distracted, eyes focussed on outside, watching the snow fall. Narrowing his brows, he had a sip of water. 'Your dinner will get cold.'

He made her jump slightly. Looking over to him, eyes slightly wide, she tried to think of something to say. Instead, she only ended up playing with her food tediously. Tōshirō chewed on his lower lip.

'You're oddly quiet.'

'I'm sorry, Captain,' she said. 'I'm just not hungry. Don't mind me. How's the food?'

He wasn't convinced. 'Really good, actually. I wouldn't say it's worth the money, but it's all right.'

Even though her appetite had gone, that didn't mean she was no longer thirsty. Rangiku reached over to the bottle of champagne and poured herself another glass. Choking on his food, Tōshirō tried to stop her from pouring more alcohol into his glass but it was too late. 'Let's not waste our money then,' she smirked, leaning back in her chair with the champagne.

Sighing, he sipped a little of the liquor then flinched. 'Eurgh, it's disgusting.'

Rangiku burst out laughing. 'Your face is hilarious. It's not poison, it won't kill you.'

'Actually, genius, it is poison. And even if it won't kill me, that still doesn't mean I have to drink it.' Tōshirō watched her down the glass of alcohol without a problem, and when she was about to grab some more, her Captain took the bottle away. 'I don't think so.'

'Aw,' Matsumoto huffed and propped herself on one elbow. 'You're no fun.'

'It's my birthday, so I get to decide what happens.'

'... But you're not going to be drinking that.'

'Irrelevant. I don't want you toppling all over the place. I'd be held responsible, and I'll have to suffer the embarrassment.' He certainly didn't like the expression she wore right now. 'What are you looking at?'

'Guess,' she folded her arms.

As if he was an angel to save her, the waiter came round to check if the two required anything else. Before Tōshirō could decline the offer, Rangiku beat him to it.

'We'll have another Krug Brut Vintage.'

'We?!' Tōshirō exclaimed. He was about to refuse the order, but the waiter had already gone. Throwing a glare at her, it was amazing he didn't explode on the spot. 'Matsumoto!'

'Your fault. You were being all strict.'

'For your sake!'

'Uhh, right. I'm pretty sure I remember you saying, "I'd be held responsible,' and "I'll have to suffer the embarrassment".' She mocked a groan, and laughed afterwards, aware her Captain would like nothing more than to strangle her then and there.

'I'm going to kill you.'

'I'd like to see you try.'

Their staring contest was put to an end when the waiter slammed another large bottle of alcohol into the middle of the table. Instantly both Shinigami bolted for it, catching the bottle together. Rangiku pulled it her way, and Tōshirō pulled the bottle his way. Both glared, a menacing grin stretched over their lips.

'Better save some for later,' Hitsugaya said, voice deep and threatening.

'Later is later. Now is now. I want some now.'

'I'm your boss.'

'That so doesn't matter to me at the moment.'

'It should. I could get you fired.'

'Oh yeah? Over a bottle of alcohol? Good luck with that.'

Tōshirō cocked a brow. 'There's also your laziness, the mess you make in the office–– Do you recall bringing those sweets in the other day? I went out of the room for five minutes, come back, and there's just litter all over the floor. Who had to clean it up? Oh, that's right: me.'

'Not my fault you have no control over me, Captain.'

He stopped himself from saying something very inappropriate. Unlike Rangiku, Tōshirō was well-mannered –– for the most part –– and kept things strictly professional –– for the most part. 'You can have the bottle back as long as you promise to work harder. That means working your actual shift, Matsumoto. Ten hours a day, at least. Not the usual two.'

'I work longer than two!'

'Naps don't count.'

'... damn it.'

'Well?'

Rangiku pouted. 'Fine. I'll work for that long, then. Don't expect my work to be quality, though.'

'Oh, it will be,' and he let the bottle go.

Falling back into her seat, Matsumoto held the bottle protectively to her, looking most disgruntled. Then, she unscrewed the top and poured another glass. Tōshirō folded his arms, proud of what he had done. That was one way to get her to work. Blackmail. Excellent.

Placing the bottle down, she watched him grin at her. 'What are you looking at?'

'Guess,' he mocked.





The tables were turned and it was Rangiku's turn to bask in the glory of watching her boss die in humiliation. Given the bill, his lower jaw literally slammed onto the table. Fortunately, they had traded some Kan for pound coins, so were able to afford their meals. Just. Reluctantly paying up, Tōshirō couldn't stop scowling and throwing dirty looks at each passing waiter until Rangiku had dragged him out of the restaurant.

Checking his pocket watch, Tōshirō saw the time was nearing five in the afternoon. It was a little sad how the day was flying past when he was enjoying it. Yes, somehow, despite how much money they were spending, Tōshirō was having a good time. He would do the same for Rangiku's birthday, if she weren't so grudging to celebrate it. Of course, he respected her wishes and strayed away from such a topic.

Arms linked again, Rangiku suggested they walk through the park. It was much larger than Tōshirō previously assumed, and they found themselves strolling for more than an hour. The majority of the time, it was in silence. The sound of their shoes crunching in the snow, the sound of children playing, and the gentle fall of snow–– all of that was soothing, in a way. In so long, Tōshirō felt normal, felt human, and he liked that. He liked that a lot.

... and then he realised, he didn't want to go back. Not yet. He didn't want to go back to Soul Society, to return to work, to fight Hollows, to await death. To fight. Welcome war. He didn't want to go back to that yet. He could live for hundreds of years, but that still wouldn't feel like enough. Not enough for him to truly enjoy life.

'What are you thinking about?'

The man was disturbed from his thoughts when Rangiku spoke. 'Nothing.'

'You look like you're thinking hard. I recognise that look. The frown you make. It's funny.'

'Just life. Nothing interesting.'

They stopped walking when Rangiku placed a hand at his chest. Facing him properly, her expression had transformed from amusement to concern. 'You've been closed off like this before, Captain. Call me obsessive, but I know when something's bothering you. Didn't you have that friend who told you it was good to discuss things which bothered you?'

'Uh, yes. I'm looking at her.'

'Right. And I was correct, wasn't I?'

She was. Tōshirō could recall clearly when he approached her once, just to talk to her. That was a while ago, though. He was younger, she was younger, that was before everything. Truth be told, he did feel better. A lot better. Rangiku had this strange, happy persona about her. Just being in her company made the day seem that much brighter. Still, that didn't mean he liked to open up. The two were complete opposites: Rangiku was expressive and open. Tōshirō was detached and private. He struggled to speak, struggled to see eye-to-eye with someone because, for some reason, he felt they wouldn't understand.

After spending seventy-years with everyone running away from him, scared of his presence and spiritual essence, it almost became instinctive for him to, also, flee. He was a man of ice, his heart was cold, as was his touch. Taking hold of Rangiku's warm hand against his chest, he let it fall. What he had thought about wasn't something he wanted to say.

'This isn't a matter you can fix with words, Matsumoto. I just think too much, that's all.'

I think about dying. And he knew she wouldn't want to know. After what he witnessed in the restaurant, it became clear death to those close to her was... too much. The last thing Tōshirō wanted to do was hurt her; she had been wounded enough. It made him a little angry. Of all people, why her? There were so few people who had the sun dancing around them. Why did Rangiku have to suffer?

... why do I care so much? She was nothing more than a colleague. Someone he met years ago. Nothing else.

Inhaling deeply, Tōshirō placed his bag of clothes down. 'Don't worry about me.'

'You never talk about anything, Captain. I respect your selflessness, but sometimes I think you work too hard, or you try too hard. Ever since you became a Shinigami, you've been eager to impress, show others that you weren't affected easily. There's no shame in having emotions.'

'Emotions are dangerous, Matsumoto. You're foolish to embrace them.' When he caught her gaze, he instantly looked away, afraid he was going to make her upset. Surely he didn't have that much power over her. Not to make her cry. Not like that monster had.

Taking hold of his arm, Rangiku stepped closer. 'That's silly philosophy, Captain, and hypocritical of you. Why can't you just be honest with me?'

'I am grumpy, Matsumoto. You're absolutely right,' he said, now looking at her, his emerald green eyes like fire. 'That's because I can't ever stop thinking. I didn't want to go back to Soul Society, because in those few seconds just walking with you, I'd never felt more human.' A pause. He swallowed. This was terrible. He couldn't believe he was letting the mask slip. 'When I go back, I'll forget all about this, and be focussed on work again, focussed on destroying Hollows and restoring peace. I'll be focussed on death again.'

Tōshirō didn't know what he was expecting. Maybe a slap across the face, or for her to laugh, he wasn't sure. Never had he had such an intimate conversation with her and, suddenly, he was afraid. Afraid of what she might do. Even though he was taller, bigger, stronger, he was still a little boy all over again, lonely, without anyone to offer a hand.

Gods, he was a misery. Who would want to be around him? Both were broken, insignificant shards of a missing puzzle.

Maybe it was anger, or sadness, fear, he wasn't sure, but Rangiku tightened her grip on his arm. 'You won't die.' They were already dead, that was for certain, but there was another gate to pass. Many had already passed this gate, vanished, and there was no way of searching for them again. 'I don't want you to die, Captain.'

The temperature had decreased phenomenally, but she wasn't aware. Maybe it had been a mistake to ask him about his thoughts, to know what horrors lurked in his mind. Ichimaru's death had torn her apart. Rangiku didn't want to imagine how she would feel if her Captain slipped between her fingers, too. For Gin, she knew he would eventually die, she knew he would eventually leave for good.

If his death had fallen her into a hole of darkness and depression, it was terrifying to know what Tōshirō's death would do to her.

'Don't think such stupid things!' Now it was anger, denial, some sort of frustration which he hadn't witnessed from her before.

'You must have an open mind, Lieutenant,' he insisted, but each time he spoke, he hated himself a little more. 'Anything could happen. I may be alive today, but––'

'Stop it!' His expression softened when he realised how exhausted she was, exhausted with him and everything. Exhausted with thoughts and what a future might bring. 'I don't like it when you're like this,' her voice was soft, a little distant, but her lips were warm, gentle against his own. They kissed once, shortly, and it was hard for him to focus afterwards.

Opening his eyes halfway, he looked down at her. Then sighed in defeat. 'I'm an idiot to think like this, I know, but I can't help it.'

Words were clearly not working, and Rangiku was tired of words. They were meaningless, and with her Captain, it was like talking to a wall. There was no response, no result. It amazed her how he was still a child inside, still growing, even if he looked her age.

Bouquet of flowers gripped tightly in her left hand, she wrapped her arms around the back of his neck and shoved her mouth onto his, stopping anymore words. Tōshirō's eyes closed, and he nearly fell limp, but he responded almost at once, returning the forcefulness of her lips, slanting his head to the side to deepen the buss. He hadn't ever properly imagined kissing Rangiku. In fact, he found such thoughts inappropriate. Yet, for someone who had never kissed another before, he was surprisingly confident. Maybe it was the thought of knowing it was her he was kissing, no one else. Really, the only person he would ever have to kiss would be Rangiku; only she mattered this much.

He was thankful to have placed his bag of clothes down. Both hands free, he let them rest gently at either side of her face, trailing a thumb across her cheek, his lips sliding over her own, catching them again. His breath had quickened slightly, and she could feel it against her, cool and nervous. When his hands fell from her face, she clung onto his coat, not wanting him to pull away.

Instead his hands came to rest around her waist and he held her close, tightly, fiercely, but his lips were always gentle, always careful. However, for a second or two, they had to break away for air. With sheer reluctance, Hitsugaya pulled away first, but his arms remained around her waist. It didn't take him long to realise why death frightened Rangiku so much.

He would be leaving her, and she had been left before. Abandoned.

'I'm not going anywhere without you,' he whispered against her lips. I'm not him.

They barely gave each other time to rest. Rangiku heard him, but she didn't want him to speak. As long as he knew, understood, then that would be enough. They were kissing again, and he gave a little surprised groan when she bit down on his lower lip affectionately. Her hands had fallen from around his neck to the scruff of his collar, pulling him against her, another hand fallen further to land on his shoulder. After what seemed like hours, thoughts began to collide into Tōshirō's numb mind.

What am I doing...?

Surely this –– what they were doing –– was confirmation of how they felt. Not only to them, but to everyone else as well. What fools fought in wars and admitted love to each other? Emotions were dangerous, as was affection. Falling for someone only made them more precious, more valuable, it only made them a target for the enemy.

Made them become their weakest spot.

Tōshirō could never allow Rangiku to become a target.

So he broke their kiss, and this time his arms fell to his sides. 'I apologise. That was––'

'It's all right,' she said, flustered. He noticed how her cheeks were blushing. 'I think we got a little too ahead of ourselves.'

'Yes.' He exhaled slowly, thankful his heart was beginning to calm down. Picking up his bag, tried to refocus his vision, but he couldn't stop shaking. This was very bad. Tōshirō was always in control of his limbs. If he was trembling, then that meant he was still in shock. About what happened? About their kiss? How ridiculous.

It was obvious Tōshirō felt awkward about their little moment together. This was not a surprise, but she couldn't help smile slightly. His innocence was amusing. 'I was thinking, Captain, when we left the restaurant. It might be worth us renting a room at a hotel. Separate rooms, of course.' She wasn't sure what conclusions he would jump to after what occurred. 'After all, I don't intend to have a short visit in that pub we're going to later.'

There was also the fact they didn't need to rush to go back home. If heading back to Soul Society had such a negative impact on Tōshirō, then maybe they should stay away from there for a little longer. Tōshirō wasn't exactly jumping with joy about this pub Matsumoto wanted to take him to, but she was right about the restaurant, so maybe there was no harm in giving her another chance.

'Fine. You have been planning the day anyway.'

'Tsk, you'd be useless without me. I only make it better.'

Grabbing his bag of clothes, they continued their walk through the park. The snow was beginning to fall harder, and he was certain they would need to find shelter soon before the flakes came down sharper. 'Sort of,' he said in response to her statement.