A/N: I honestly wasn't aware so much when I wrote this oneshot. I just poured in what I wanted to and made a sort-of messed up plot. After reading it, I kind of thought it was pretty confusing. The part near the end too, kind of looks like a bit of crack to me. But despite all my efforts, perhaps I did pretty good? D:
So, enjoy if you can. Review and constructively criticize if needed, but it's appreciated. :)
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.
A Dance Upon the Frozen Heavens
The tenth division's headquarters was littered with hundreds of Shinigami that day.
The crisp air was potently tainted by the thick and awry scent of sake. The blazes of the torches were brighter than usual in the night, as the Shinigami were constantly frolicking about, drunken on their asses, doing nothing but hissing, cooing, and, occasionally, fainting. There was nothing to do but enjoy the pleasures of a drunken spirit, and celebrate a wondrous victory that the Shinigami had sought through hardships, death, and betrayal.
Toushiro Hitsugaya wasn't exactly a person on par with parties like these. Perhaps it was his age, but he was not impressed by the way people had thought this was the literal meaning of "fun". He scoffed from time to time upon seeing his own fukutaichou, Rangiku Matsumoto, his supposed right hand woman, ever haunted by hallucinations of her own drunken self. Her eyes glimmered like some sort of perverted animal, ambitiously seducing the men around her (not to mention, his taichou as well). Well, her zanpakuto is literally a neko (or perhaps, not) as far as he knows, or some sort of other wild animal, and perhaps "great" minds like theirs think alike in ways - including ones that would literally take looks and behavior into consideration.
For the hours that passed the young taichou remained seated beside his zanpakuto, the ever-so silent Hyourinmaru, and also Rukia Kuchiki, who, like him, was generally uninterested in the volatile substance known as sake. Toushiro adored the sight of how Kuchiki-dono had remained to be one of the most respectful and refined of all the Shinigami in the party, even surpassing the young taichou himself. She was royalty, after all, and she lived in a kind, manner-instituted household that trained her to be the lady she truly is.
"Oh captain! Don't be so shy… Come on. Take a sip!"
Toushiro, disgruntled by the way his fukutaicho acted, refused the drink Rangiku offered with much dismay. He sighed, wishing the party would finally end. As much as he thought how ridiculous and rash Kuchiki-dono's idea was, it was still safe to say, that probably, in some way, her plan would work and lure out the Toju that had also attacked her manor yesterday during their own celebration. However, as hours passed with no anticipated results, the hope of ever finding those Toju grew dim.
"Hitsugaya-sama, may I please walk out, for just a while? I duly promise you that I will be back before the party will end," Hyourinmaru requested, almost out of the blue.
Ever since Hyourinmaru had returned to him, he was loyal – nearly in terms that Toushiro was a lord through his ambitious gray eyes, and he was his servant, personally responsible to the well-being of his lord, and would gladly give up his own flesh for the sake of his.
"Sure, Hyourinmaru. May I know why?"
"I wish for a short time for myself, if it isn't much trouble for you, Hitsugaya-sama."
Hyourinmaru took a bow in front of his master and everyone else, including Kuchiki-dono and her zanpakuto, Sode no Shirayuki. Kuchiki-dono was very impressed on the way Hyourinmaru had treated his master with so much ideal respect. Not even her zanpakuto could outmatch the gentleness of his request, even if she was the most beautiful of all Zanpakuto in Soul Society.
Sode no Shirayuki, being a fateful Zanpakuto like herself, sensed an entropy building inside of Hyourinmaru – his stern expression finely masked his true emotion over his master, and she was perplexed by his action.
"Rukia-sama, I am wondering as well. May I also leave for a while, like Hyourinmaru?"
"Of course. I can't blame you two if you are both discomforted by the idea of a party. Go on, try to relax somewhere else."
And like Hyourinmaru, she hid her expression to a form of a grateful smile, and unknowingly by her master, she followed the distressed Hyourinmaru through an alley.
The moon was at its peak – Hyourinmaru breathed the life that he was born into. He collected all thoughts, all memories, and all sights, before finally releasing these thoughts and return back into the reality he was forced to face. The cosmic heavens cried to him like a persuasive mantra in his mind, pleading him to return to the reality that he was supposed to be in.
As a sword. Just as a mere sword.
He summoned his own zanpakuto with his will, and shaped the secluded area he was in, into a pseudo-paradise landscape that was littered with ice and frost. He decorated it with an intricate ice design that surpassed the true works of an artist. He scattered the ice all over the area, leaving no single space behind, leaving no corner unfrozen. He promised to himself to return everything back to its original state, but for now, his desires was conflicted by the duty of a zanpakuto and the duty of being a spirit, and he did not bother to protest, but show to others that he had a heart like a human did, and felt what they also felt before.
He stared at the frosted land, his dream breathed into life. The beams of moonlight reflected the clear and untarnished glass-like floor, and beauty had revealed itself to him. But his heart was incomplete – there were things missing. No matter how hard he wanted to remember, he could not.
And in that moment a single snowflake fell upon his forehead, its cold temperature utterly foreign to him. Soon, the miniscule amount of snowflakes grew into an abundant amount – snow poured down from the sky like the gods answered his call, and his eyes glowed from the awe he felt now.
Yet his heart still felt incomplete. There was still something missing.
"Are you impressed, Hyourinmaru?"
Hyourinmaru coiled to his back, his zanpakuto in hand, to see his visitor as an incoming threat that garnered over to his violence. But he saw his visitor and he lowered his sword – Sode no Shirayuki joined his own paradise, almost as if she was responsible for the creation of it.
"If you thought that I was invading you, I think not," she said, all the while looking back and forth through the frozen paradise. "This is mine, the snow that fell upon your head, the missing figure in your paradise of the purest of cold."
He remained silent, as the man he is, with not much intention to reply to her words. He understood her and he deemed that it was unnecessary to tell her that he understood, for it was obvious in his eyes.
"This is still not paradise, though," Sode no Shirayuki sadly admitted, her lips curling into a frown. "A true paradise is what lies in the heavens – is that what you were trying to mimic, Hyourinmaru? Our old home?"
His eyes widened from her words. He remembered her undying pleasantry, the way how she dressed as the most beautiful being in the heavens, and acted as the most gentle one. His face remained stern and his zanpakuto wielded tightly inside his clenched fists, though not feeling any threat whatsoever from a comrade. He then thought about the way he held his sword, how he was born to be accustomed to bloodlust, and yet, he never denied his destiny. He was meant to be Zanpakuto, like the millions they were inside their home.
It was nostalgia that he felt; it was nostalgia that he loved.
But these memories were nothing more than clips that are unimportant to a life of a zanpakuto, and he wasn't a man who dwelled in the past. He was a man that dwelled into the after.
"Our old home is nothing. It is out of our reach now."
Sode no Shirayuki grew pained over how Hyourinmaru threw away the world he once knew.
"Out of our reach, Hyourinmaru? Then what is this I see… a land built by your own hands that imitated the world we once knew?"
Hyourinmaru froze, though not literally, and allowed her statement to relay through his thoughts. He always loved the future, yes, and he thought that the past was useless, yes, but nothing seemed to make sense now, after Sode no Shirayuki's statement.
"Am I right, Hyourinmaru?"
"Yes. Perhaps you have a point there, Sode no Shirayuki."
Perhaps they were the only ones who truly remembered how life was built inside the comfort of their old homes, how they lived peacefully and accordingly with no conflict, no evil, and no animosity.
"I was king, then."
"And I was queen."
They were two, extraordinary beings, born of ice, born of snow, fated to live the lives of the two most powerful beings in the face of the cold heavens.
"Do you still remember the dance we always adored?" Sode no Shirayuki asked him.
"I never bothered to remember that, because it was unimportant."
"Unimportant?" Sode no Shirayuki remarked, eyebrow raised. "I preserved it, Hyourinmaru, while you adorned it."
"Then perhaps, it was important after all. And I find myself to remember it."
"Of course, Sode no Shirayuki."
Hyourinmaru's zanpakuto disintegrated from his hand, and with that same hand he held hers. They held each other, too close to comfort, but inextinguishable warmth existed beneath the connection of the two. They swayed back and forth, with the taps of their feet forming a familiar rhythm, as each called a chant.
"Some no mai… Tsukishiro."
A swirl of light emanated in a circular formation from their position, a beauty of an attack guised into a harmless figure of splendor.
Pillars towered and surrounded them, their daunting figures suddenly relapsing into a soothing shape, as they motioned in a circular pattern, winds erupting in between that brushed against their hair.
"Tsugi no mai, Hakuren."
The ground punctures in points, with lights streaming out of the empty holes, and white light showered the landscape and ice filled the once empty roof.
The roof gradually forms into a prismatic diamond flower, shining brilliantly across the evening sky, its figure dominant over the whole of Seireitei.
"San no mai, Shirafune."
The corners of the landscape form immaculate, white swords governing the enthrallment of the dance, and the purity of the paradise.
A great cloud covers the radius of their position, and beautiful ice flowers begin to fall, their weight unparalleled by its looks, and their number lower than death's worth. One fell upon Sode no Shirayuki's head, and she was content. And so was he.
The paradise they knew was gone. They were fated to meet each other once again, into each others embrace. Though the melancholy of a reality remains redundant in their eyes, memories continued to glow from within their hearts, concerned not to end it, but to cherish it.
It is odd indeed, that cold beings like them felt the love that warmed all.