BLEACH BLEACH BLEACH

So like. This artwork was doomed to be a time sink from the moment I started working on it digitally. That's because I decided my first project would be rendering these grasshopper guts (it was the only photo I could find online that showed detailed insect guts smh). It took me... however long this looks like it took x 10000 bc I'm UNBELIEVABLY slow these days. Months of spare time! I still had my old job when I started this omfg

So then I finish them. Finally. And I'm kinda... scooching them around the canvas, seeing where to put them... and I realize I'm a fucking Jackas who doesn't EVER plan his shit right, cuz they don't even REMOTELY fit in the bg where they were supposed to go! How do you even DO that??? I genuinely amaze myself sometimes!!! So I had to rethink the entire composition, changing it from just showing their heads (fun! easy!) to their whole... chest and arms and FUCKING HANDS AAAAGH

all so Mayuri can be working on my pretty insect guts, which are now sitting inside a rather awkward, nebulous Bug

Anywayyyy this was a rough project from start to finish. Still feel like there's some really big mistakes staring me right in the face, but I've stared at it so long that i'm totally blind to it.. and it doesn't help that my tablet just keeps geting worse, part of me is amazed it's still working but the rest of me is Full Of Hate And Rage bc it flickers SO FUCKING MUCH AAAAGH

The chatter and laughter from her officers reaches her from downstairs. Maybe she should go back. She’s tired, but she can muster up some energy and keep the small party going. Perhaps by that point she’ll have more courage to enter her room.

She sighs through her nose. This won’t do. She needs to be stronger than this if she wants to move on with her life. She didn’t leave the confinement of one room for another. No, it was her mind that confined her. The rooms, her own and Fourth Division’s, were just an excuse.

She slides the door open.

The smell of fresh flowers rushes up to greet her. The moonlight spills in from the window and illuminates her bed and a square of the floor. With a trembling hand, she reaches for the light switch and flicks it.

She enters soundless and slow, her feet sliding rather than stepping. A new, strange feeling grips her as she takes in her old surroundings. It’s like she’s entered the room again for the first time, but it’s not the same as when this room became hers after Ichimaru left.

She tried to find an anchor, something that will make her feel like she’s returned home. The vase with flowers from the Fifth Division gardens. The window she stared out of from her bed, wishing to be free and lamenting how dark and listless her days were. The bookcase with items from her past; the sketchbooks lining the bottom shelf, her novels taking up the top two shelves.

It’s the former that gives her pause. The day she’d opened one up on to a portrait of Aizen comes to mind. She suspects she won’t feel the same panic if she were to look upon any drawings of him now. She should get rid of them, tear them from the books. The same for the novels he gifted her, ripping out the pages where he signed his name. The task is daunting, and one that she will not to be able to do in one day. Perhaps across months, years even. Because even after resolving to stride forward, she can’t let go of some things. Again she wonders how long it took Shinji to shed off the pieces of Aizen he’d clung to – if he held on to anything of the traitor.

She keeps searching, and stops when her gaze lands on the small figurine of the two children. It never fails to remind her of her childhood with Hitsugaya. Once it would’ve brought her comfort, perhaps elicit a smile out of her, but now it’s only a reminder of a time before the battle at Fake Karakura Town.

It’s not his fault, Tobiume reminds her.

“I know,” Hinamori responds aloud. She's certain he's deeply hurt by his actions, if the vague updates Rangiku gave her are anything to go by. And though she fears and longs to see him in equal measure, there's that flicker of anger. Why didn't he see her? Why couldn't they have started again together?

Sighing, she rubs her face. It's no use pondering further tonight. She needs to get back into her work first.

She closes the door and unhooks Tobiume from her hip. After putting her blade on the bed, she eyes her bathroom. The door is open, and her reflection in the small mirror stares back at her.

She walks up to it. It’s the first time she’s gotten a properly look at herself in the last four months. Until now, she’d seen herself in the reflection of windows, looking more like a phantom than something physical and breathing.

The scent of her soap, flowery with hints of honey, makes her nose wrinkle. She’s never noticed how strong it is, or perhaps it’s because she hasn’t used it in so long. She doesn’t look down at the soap bar, her eyes fixed on her mirror reflection.

It’s only small changes, nothing as drastic as her mind sometimes made her believe. It feels like with all that has happened, she should look dramatically different. The bags under her eyes are faint, and her cheeks a bit thinner. She’s certainly paler, her skin stark against her eyes and the few faint freckles on her cheeks. Her hair desperately needs a proper wash and haircut.

“…I think when I get out of here, I’d like to change my hair too. Will you help pick a new style?”

She hasn’t forgotten her conversation with Rangiku. She has to focus on getting back into her role this week, but perhaps next week or the one after that, if Rangiku is free...

There, now she has something to look forward to. She lets the small joy that brings motivate her to have a bath and wash her hair. The air is redolent with the soap’s flowery scent, and it follows her after she’s changed into a sleeping robe and returns to her bed.

She props zanpakuto against the bedframe before falling back on to the mattress. She hasn’t had a decent night’s sleep in months, and lying here in the stillness, on her own bed, she’ll fall asleep within seconds once she closes her eyes.

What keeps her eyes open is the faint sounds coming from downstairs. Her officers. She presses her lips together, her emotions rising up again. Only a few hours ago they welcomed her back, all gathered in the main barracks hall, cheering and applauding the moment she stepped in. So many smiling and relieved faces, from the officers she befriended to the recruits she has yet to speak with.

She doesn’t understand. After everything she did, how can they be so understanding? She had snuck out into a battle she wasn’t prepared for and put the Division’s reputation and her lieutenancy on the line. Surely some wouldn’t want her back, would be suspicious of her or question her capability to lead. She hasn’t been here when they needed her most.

She’d looked over at her captain, standing in the corner, arms folded and chatting with Genji. As if sensing her gaze, he’d met it, and his grin widened a fraction.

"When I was over at the Division earlier, for all of the damage Aizen did, I still saw the comradery and teamwork. And I’m willing to bet, above all else, it’s because you were second-in-command, keeping those values alive, that Fifth Division is still that way.”

Had he convinced them to give her another chance?

For those few hours, all of the doubts, the darkness and melancholy swept away. She didn’t think about Aizen or worry about what the future held. Because Fifth Division wasn’t just Aizen. It’s everyone here. She needs to remind herself of that everyday.

And if she truly has everyone’s forgiveness, she won’t waste the opportunity given to her to make up for her absence. With that in mind, she scoots further up the bed until her head is on the pillow. Finally, she sleeps.

_____________________________

Stepping back into her old room had been one thing, but stepping back into the office is something else entirely. At least in her room, Hinamori knew nothing was likely to be moved or touched, and if she cried no one would see her get emotional.

This office, changed or no, it will surely make her remember the times before. She’ll either long for the way the office used to be, or wish the new captain had changed the setup, or maybe she’ll react in a way that even she can’t predict. She wishes she had Renji’s resilience, that attitude he used to exude at the Academy: sometimes you’ve got to do it, even if it’s painful. But isn’t that what she’s trying to do now?

With a trembling hand, she clutches the handle.

“Lieutenant.”

Hinamori twists to her right. Genji approaches, his strides purposeful and wide as his smile. Despite the nerves thrumming through her, she can’t help but smile back. “Good morning, Isawa-kun.”

“I thought you’d still be in the mess hall,” he says, coming to a stop in front of the office doors. “I was going to set everything up before you came.”

“Ah, well, I didn’t think I should stay too long.” She gestures to the stack of documents he carries under his arm. “You must have a lot to update me on.”

His smile falls and a concerned frown takes its place. “It would have been fine if you wanted to talk with everyone for a little while longer.”

“Oh, please don’t get the wrong idea! It was great to eat breakfast with everyone, I really enjoyed talking with them and finding out what’s been happening around here.” She sighs, lowering her hands. “But while talking with everyone, it just made me want to get back to my duties even more. Everything is going to be different from now on, whether we like it or not, and I need to know where things stand for us.”

Genji nods. “It’s true. I must admit, it’s taken some getting used to with Captain Hirako.”

“Did you see him this morning? Before he went to his meeting, I mean.”

“I did. He was in good spirits.” Then, with a chuckle, “He was wearing something called a ‘tie’ around his neck, you’ll probably see him wearing it when he comes back.”

It reminds Hinamori of the strange black garment he wore when they first met. “I see.”

She’s about to suggest stepping into the office, but she looks at her third seat, really looks at him for the first time in a while. She’s worked with him for decades; no one is as fast as he is in combat and he’s a diligent worker when it comes to the desk job side of things. She knew only bits and pieces of his personal life: he came from one of the higher districts in the south, has two adoptive parents and a younger brother he looks after and visits on his days off, and he likes spicy foods.

She remembers his last visit to her in Fourth Division, when she asked him to give his opinion on their new captain.

“I’m sure you’ve seen while speaking him that he gets to the point,” he’d said. “It might come across as blunt, but he means well. It also helps he already knows what the role entails, so he doesn’t have to brought up to speed.” He chuckled weakly. “Must admit, I thought because of how long he had been in the World of the Living, he’d have forgotten. He showed me, that’s for sure.”

He’d grinned and gave her a firm nod. “I knew for sure he was a good person when he reinstated you as lieutenant. There’s no one else who can do this job better than you.”

A lot had been put on his shoulders on top of coping with Aizen’s betrayal, and despite it all, he still manages to smile and carry on like his usual optimistic self.

Hinamori fixes him with a solemn gaze. She feels the need to repeat what she’s already told him, to truly emphasis how much he’s done and how he should commend himself for it. “You’ve done a lot for the Division, Isawa-kun. More than a third seat should ever do.” She bows her head. “I’ll never forget it, and I will make it up to you and everyone else. I promise I will work hard to show your belief in me isn’t wasted, and that I will atone for my actions against the Division.”

“Ah, that’s not necessary!”

She straightens. “You’ve maintained the Division’s spirit. You made sure that didn’t change.” She thinks to apologize again, but somehow, despite the guilt welled up in her, it doesn’t feel right. No, instead, she smiles. “Thank you, Isawa-kun.”

Genji stands a little taller; then after a beat, he bows. “Welcome back, Lieutenant. It is truly good to have you back with us.”

“And it’s good to be back.” She glances back at the office door. “We should get started with the updates you need to give me.”

“Yes, of course. It won’t take too long, I hope. I need to oversee the flash-step training in thirty minutes.”

Her smile widens at that. “Still the fastest in the Division, then?”

“I have a reputation to keep!” he says with a laugh, and Hinamori joins in. If there was anyone who could keep the Division buoyant during these troubling times without leadership, it’s Genji with his infectious smiles and laughter.

But the merriment dies down and there’s a pause. Hinamori realizes he’s waiting for her to open the door. She takes in a breath, holds it for a second longer, and as she breathes out as quietly and naturally as she can, slides the door aside.

Genji walks past her while she is stunned, unable to move.

“I probably should have warned you,” he says ruefully, back still turned to her as he goes to the captain’s desk. “Captain Hirako rearranged the office a little. I made your desk stay where it was, I wasn’t sure if you wanted it changed or not.”

Hinamori stares into the office not with anxiety or dread or guilt, but in bewilderment.

As Genji said, her desk remained - save for the fresh flowers in the small vase she kept in the right-hand corner – but the captain’s desk is no longer opposite hers on the left side of the room. It’s now close to the back wall with all sorts of strange accoutrements and objects along the front, and next it is a strange box on a stand with wheels at the end of each leg. Behind the desk are the two bookcases which are mostly stocked with tomes of Soul Society laws and division records.

She points to the glossy, colorful assortment of whatever lines the middle shelf of one bookcase. “What are those?” But before Genji could provide an answer, she also points at the box next to the captain’s desk. “And what is that?”

“Those are Captain Hirako’s.” Genji sets the documents aside on the captain’s desk, goes to the closest bookcase, and pulls out one of the things from a shelf. “He calls them 'vinyls’, or 'records’ sometimes. They have music on them.” From what Hinamori deduces is a protective cover, Genji pulls out a large disc. “I vaguely remember these from when he was last our Captain. I don’t really know how to set it up, but he plays it using the record player over there.” He points to the device on the stand. “You’ll see him do it at some point. He brought all of these with him from the World of the Living.”

She purses her lips. “He plays music while he works?”

Genji slips the vinyl record back into its cover and slides it on to the shelf. “Not all the time, but he does seem to like it every now then.” Genji lets out an amused huff. “It’s strange music if you ask me, I don’t really understand it. You can talk to him if you don’t want to have music playing, he’s relaxed about it.” He throws an arm around the room. “I think he’d even be open to changing anything here if you wanted.”

Hinamori nods slowly. He didn’t sound like he was strict or wanted things a certain way without argument. Even when she talked with him for the first time, she got that sense about him. Even so, perhaps this was going to be harder than she thought. She prefers quiet while working, but it seems her new Captain likes the opposite.

“I’ll talk with him.” She conjures up what she hopes is a convincing smile. “In the meantime, we should get to your updates and notes.”

______________________________

Shinji reads the draft of the Seireitei Communication article on his way back to Fifth Division. An idea cooked up by Kensei lieutenant to reintroduce them to the Seireitei. He’s on the third page when he’s back in the barracks, heading towards the office. He only looks away when he ascends to the second-floor and comes out on to the balcony of a smaller barracks building. He frowns at the paragraphs about what happened to them after they were forced out of the Soul Society. He’s willing to be open about it, but did everyone need to know this much detail?

“Captain!”

The call comes from down below. Shinji tucks away the draft into his sleeve. “Hey!“ he shouts with a wave. "Stay there.”

He eyes the balcony railing and can’t help but grin. It’s been ages since he forewent the unspoken rule of never leaping down to the ground floor. A part of him wants to, but he needs to set an example and show Hinamori he isn’t some nutcase. He steps away and takes the stairs in the corridor between the two barracks.

When he emerges opposite her in the courtyard, she’s still sitting on the veranda and has a secret, amused smile. It’s one of the few genuine, unrestrained expressions he’s seen from her. “What’re you smiling about?”

Hinamori blinks out of here reverie, the corners of her lips falling. “Nothing, Captain.”

He steps down into the garden and crosses over to her. “Sorry to keep you waiting, I was chatting with Captain Otorobashi and Captain Muguruma. How did it go with Isawa-san? He bring you up to date with everything?”

He passes her on the steps, planning to drop off the draft article in the office before grabbing something to eat.

“Yes,” she says, a little flustered. “I think I’m across everything.”

“Good.” Well, that settles it, they can go to lunch and then get to work. But then, perhaps she’s only saying that. Maybe she has burning questions that need answering now. He stops before the office doors and turns around, and she comes to a sudden stop only three feet away from him.

“Anything you want to go over right now or can it wait until later?” he asks.

Hinamori cocks her head to one side. “Was there something else you needed to do?

He could commend her for having her priorities better lined up than his. “Nah, just wondering if you wanted to talk about it after lunch.”

Uncertainty passes over her face, and she tries to cover with a nervous smile. “Not everything, but…could we go over the finances and concerning district reports after a short break?”

He nods. “Yeah, they’re good places to start.”

She thinks he’s about to turn back into the office, but instead he looks out into the courtyard. Something she can’t name passes through his eyes, and after a beat he sits on the veranda’s edge. “Must admit, it’s different from how I remember. Used to be a lot less plants and those trees were a lot shorter. It’s not bad though.”

She too turns back to the garden. “When I started, there were a few plants, like the suzuran. Over time we just kept adding more plants.” Her expression falls, darkened by melancholy “There used to be ayame too.”

Shinji frowns at her. “Yeah? What happened to them?”

She shrugs stiffly. “I’m not sure. I think someone dug them up because… they were Captain Aizen’s favorite.”

Much to his chagrin, he’s annoyed that he has learnt something new about the traitor. “That bastard had a favorite flower?” He throws a hand out to the garden and snorts. “If that even was his favorite. Thought he’d go for something more regal or something with a double meaning, knowing the way he worked.”

He looks back to her, prepared to keep ranting to take her mind off her melancholy, but her gaping mouth and widened eyes shrivels his indignation up. He looses a nervous chuckle. “Hey, what’s with the look?”

“I-I, uh…” She turns away from him and sits on the steps. “I guess I just didn’t expect you to say that.”

How he can say his name without the title or speak about him without experiencing rage or misery? He’s certain that's what's on her mind amongst everything else she's trying to process.

Shinji is again reminded of how long her path to recovery will be. He was like her in the beginning, only difference being Aizen’s name evoked fury and guilt, two things his inner Hollow loved to stoke to get a rise out of him. It’s been so long since then he’s forgotten how much it affected him in the beginning.

“She was taken aback by the office” Genji warned him only minutes ago. “She may want to discuss the layout with you.”

Truthfully, he hadn’t thought of her while moving his old stuff back in and rearranging the office. As selfish as it was, he’d only thought of how good it was to be back, wanting to get into the swing of things as soon as possible. There was a time he would’ve thought this was impossible, but here he was, back in his old office, back to duties he once thought tedious and boring -- maybe he still does, but the rose-tint hasn't yet worn off.

Perhaps she believes he removed Aizen’s items, but he hadn’t. When he’d started, the office was bare save for the tomes on the bookcase and Hinamori’s desk with her personal effects. He hadn’t thought to ask Genji why the office was so sparse, had just assumed someone cleared out whatever needed to be removed. When he worked with him Aizen only had a few things on his desk -- only to keep up the façade, Shinji later realized -- but he doubted he had added to collection when he was appointed Captain.

But what he had were gone, taken away probably around the same time the ayame flowers were dug up. All done in her absence, not giving her the time she clearly hoped to have to say goodbye to it all. He is the last person who will criticize her for wanting such a thing, but he also can't fault his Division for trying to move on in their own way.

He returns his attention to his lieutenant. Her gaze is away from him, and the fidgeting of her hands makes him almost wince. This is not how he wanted things to start for them as leaders of the Division. “Hey, listen, if you’re not a fan of the office the way it is, we can discuss it, ya know?”

Hinamori flinches, startled out of her thoughts. “Huh?”

“Isawa-san came to me before. He left training for a bit and told me you were shocked when you saw it. Look, I probably shouldn’t have changed it all on you like that before you came back. I got carried away with it. It’s your workspace too, so you obviously get a say in how it should be.”

“It’s not that,” she says. After a beat, she sighs through her nose. “More than that, I was just surprised. I thought everything would be the same as before.” Her gaze returns to the gardens. “That was a silly of me. Time passed while I was in Fourth Division, but I think it’s only hitting me now just how much. Besides, it’s…it’s your desk. Why would I have say over where it goes?”

Real diplomat this one, Shinji thinks. Judging from how the seated officers described her, he already had the impression she has a tendency of putting other’s comfort over her own.

He shrugs, trying to bring some brevity to the air around them. “Maybe you have a point, it’s the captain’s desk. I arranged it that way because it’s what I’m used to, back when I was doing my first stint at this job.” He grins. “Maybe I could use a change too, you know? Like I said, you’re working in there too, so if you wanted your desk where mine is or somewhere else, do it. We’ll arrange it whatever way works.”

She stares at him with a mixture of bewilderment, but he can tell something dawns on her for the first time. He knows this won’t be the only time he’s on the receiving end of such a look. She has many epiphanies ahead of her, ones he’s already gone through. The difference is he’ll be here for her and all of his officers to get the through it.

Eventually, she gives him a tepid smile. “I don’t mind the layout of the office, really. I-I must admit, I like to work in silence, but…the music you listen to, what’s it like?”

Now that’s more like it. Shinji beams and waves an arm toward the office. “Come on, I’ll show ya!”

____________________________

Hinamori came bounding down the path to him with the widest grin he’s ever seen. He stood from his spinning tops, perplexed. What could have her positively glowing like a firefly? She’s a cheerful person by nature, but this felt like elation, as if she’d achieved –

Oh.

Only one thing could have her this elated. And sure enough, once she skidded a stop to him and spoke to him so fast, he was only able to pick up a few words – “Shinigami” and “go to the Academy” – it’s exactly hat eh thought.

Still, he grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her once. “Hinamori, slow down! I can’t understand you.”

She doesn’t even lecture him for what he did, was practically shaking beneath his grip. She took in a breath, the only one she inhaled since before she started speaking. “I’m sorry, Shiro-chan, I’m just so excited!” She pulled out a piece paper from her sleeve and nearly smacked it into his face. “Look! Look!”

His didn’t comprehend the words before him at first, and some dazed part of his mind thought the words were simply to long and complicated for him to read yet, that Granny had yet to teach them t him. But as the world snapped back into place, and his eyes danced along the paper, seeing the words he knew, the same ones she’d said before, he practically snatched the letter from her.

Her exam results, and an official welcome to the Shinigami Academy, signed and stamped by the head of the whole Academy.

“I passed the exam!” she exclaimed. “I’m going to become a Shinigami!”

She rambled on about getting a uniform and other supplies, about how it’s taken just over a decade for her finally get to this point. She reminisced about the day she came to him and showed she could conjure up an orb of light between her hands, how that moment led to this.

He didn’t take any of it in, disorientated like he’s been knocked over the head. He knew this day was coming, had told him time and again that she would leave eventually.

He didn’t think it would hurt this much.

He lowered the letter, and something in his expression made her stop talking. Her grin fell, and she blinked as if coming out of a trance.

“Congratulations,” he offered.

She didn’t miss the hollowness of it. “Wait, what’s --?”

He handed back her letter before he turned away and went back to collect his spinning tops.

He heard the paper being folded up and confused sounds and attempts to start a sentence. He remained in this disconnected state, as if he’d let go and floated away to the back of his mind. His body bent over and scooped up the spinning tops, and he took out a pouch from his obi to put them into.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he said without looking behind.

“No, there’s…” Her steps scarped against the ground. “Are you upset that I got into the Academy?”

That jolted him back into control of his body. He froze, midway through drawing the strings on the pouch.

Her steps stopped. He could sense she was close enough to reach out and touch his back. “You’ve always said you were didn’t care about whether or not I went to Academy.”

He turned, too sharply, walked past her towards the back the house.

“Don’t go!” she chided, following him. “I’m still talking to you. I-I don’t understand, Shiro-chan, I thought you --”

He rounded on her, nearly crashing into her she was so close. “Don’t call me that!” he snapped.

She flinched, eyes wide and hands raised in alarm. But he kept going, hands balled at his sides and his voice raised. “Why don’t you just leave already?! You’ve clearly wanted to be there more than here for so long! So just go already!”

“T-That’s not true, I…” She faltered and kept trying to finish her sentence. When her eyes became glassy with the threat of tears, it’s like a bucket of ice cold water poured over his head and washed the anger off him.

“Hinamori…” His hand twitched at his side, wanting to reach for her. Instead he balled it into a fist.  “Forget everything I just said” he said weakly, half turning from her.

She shook her head, appalled. “No, I can’t. You do care about me leaving. Why does it upset you so much?”

He stared hard into the ground, refusing to respond. But in a way, perhaps it gives her an answer anyway.

“Do you hate the Shinigami?” she broached. “I know most Souls are suspicious of them, even though they fight to protect us.” Then, when he didn’t say anything, she added more quietly, “Are you worried I won’t come back?”

The corners of his mouth deepened, and with a snarl, he turned and stalked up the stairs back into his house. “Go home.”

He stopped himself from slamming the door, but after it’s clicked into place, he thumped his head against it.

Idiot! he cursed at himself. You stupid idiot!

But he couldn’t ignore the hurt that’s welled up and overflown. He couldn’t ignore the annoyance he felt towards Hinamori. And for what? Pursuing her dream? Trying to make this world and the World of the Living better places? At the cost of her life. To have blood on her hands from Hollows and disobedient Souls. Doing it alongside beings that did not inspire trust. Going to into worlds and places beyond any Souls’ comprehension.

He heard her run away, down the path, the skip gone from her steps.

_____________________________

Hitsugaya walks into one of Fourth Division's barracks, seeking out the recovery ward his officers are in. There’s quiet chatter around him, nursing officers providing updates or doing check ups, patients speaking to each other or visitors in their rooms. He follows the direction an officer at the front gave him, and he soon arrives in the right hallway. It’s the fifth door on his left, and their beds are at the end of --

A trace of warm reiatsu. He freezes, heart seizing and a gasp escaping past his lips. A nurse officer he nearly bumped into gives him a concerned look, but keeps moving past him.

Judging by its strength, she’s not actually here. Of course she isn’t; after the lieutenant’s meeting this afternoon, Rangiku informed him Hinamori been discharged yesterday afternoon. It’s traces she’s left behind. They’ll be gone by tomorrow.

He makes to go into the recovery ward, but passes the doorway. His legs rush him in the direction of her reiatsu. He shouldn’t do this, looking foolish at best and delusional at worst for seeking it out. What good does finding it do when it’s not really her?

Regardless, he marches down the corridor, wending around officers and patients, until he reaches the source. A private room, large enough to fit three patient beds. But he only sees one with a bedside table, and next to it are two empty visitor chairs. The curtains are drawn back, revealing a view of one of the Division’s gardens.

He steps into the room and looks around, taking in the room from corner to corner. This is where she spent the last few months. Did she while away her days drawing or reading between visits from officers and friends? How often did she simply sit and contemplate or ruminate on what happened?

He strides further in and stops at the bedside, next to one of the visitor chairs. He imagines Rangiku in it, sitting across from Hinamori in her bed. His lieutenant would’ve made her happy, pulling out a smile from her and probably gossiping about things going on at the Women’s Association. Among other friends of hers, he heard Izuru visited her too. Would they reminisce about their Academy days? Share their experiences with the betrayal of their former captains?

He shudders and rubs his eyes with the heels of his palms. It strikes him how easy it would’ve been to come here. To sit by her bedside like everyone else. Perhaps seeing her would’ve given him the right words to say for once. He almost had them when speaking to her from the World of the Living, but then the past crept in.

He tries to imagine her before him, sitting on the bed, waiting for him to speak. Would he really be able to speak with her? To take her hand in his and wait for her reaction to his colder reiatsu, the difference between his left and right limbs? To relive what happened and see the way it's affected her?

How many times had said harsh words to her out of anger when she needed ones of support the most? Rangiku was right to call him out last week and prevent him from visiting. And yet --

“Captain Hitsugaya?”

Hitsugaya startles and wheels around. A Fourth Division officer stands in the doorway, perplexed.

“Apologies, Captain, are you all right?”

Is the vulnerability obvious? He’s quick to wipe it away from his expression and walk out of the room. “I was looking for the recovery ward where my officers were taken.”

“Oh. I can take you there if you’d like,” the officer offers.

“No, thank you. Just give me the directions.”

Hitsugaya pretends to take in the same instructions he already knows. All the while, he casts surreptitious  glances back into the room. I should have visited. It takes everything within to keep his expression neutral in front of the officer. Because it feels as though his heart sinks like a stone in water. He remembers his officers staring at him after the battle, seeing his progress. In awe, in fear…

After the officer is done, he nods his thanks and leaves too quickly.

_____________________________

They were sitting in companionable silence, Hinamori looking out the window at the falling snow and Rangiku flipping through a copy of the Seireitei Communication. Isane would come by shortly to take Hinamori away for a check-up. A part of Hinamori argued that she should make more of her time with her friend, but there were days she simply wanted to sit with someone and not speak a word. Rangiku seemed to understand this, having not spoken a word in the last fifteen minutes.

Still, a question bubbled to the surface in Hinamori’s mind. One that she had pondered for long hours in Fifth Division when she confined there, and one that had returned recently. In the quiet, she had been thinking on it, but looking to her friend, she wondered how she would answer it.

“Rangiku-san?”

Her fellow lieutenant looked up from the magazine. “Hm?”

“Why did you decide to become a Shinigami?” It’s meant as an innocent question, but at Rangiku’s furrowing brows and narrowed eyes, she regretted asking it. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“No, it’s fine…” The tone of her voice said otherwise.

Hinamori shook her head. “Please, you don’t have to answer. Just forget I said anything.”

In the silence that followed, Hinamori stared too long at the space between them and Rangiku raps her fingers on an arm of the visitor’s chair.

I had to go and make things awkward, Hinamori chastised herself.

“I was following him.”

Hinamori blinked. “Huh?”

“I became a Shinigami because I was following…Gin.” Rangiku let out a sigh through her nose. “It’s not the only reason. I also thought I deserved more than what I had. That should’ve been the main reason, but it wasn’t.” She smiled oddly. “Silly of me, really. I followed a boy who I was never going to catch up to. He was always far ahead of me, out of reach.”

Hinamori’s lips clamped shut. She’s been let in on something close to Rangiku’s heart; she needed to tread carefully. “It must have been a lot for you. To come from where you grew up to get into Academy.”

“It was night and day,” she said. “It took so much work to get there, but I just knew...” She raised her gaze to meet Hinamori’s. Her smile widened a fraction, the hardness of it softening. “I suppose what matters is I’m here now, better than where I used to be.”

Even with all that pain? Hinamori wondered.

“What about you?” Rangiku asked, crossing her legs and leaning forward. “What made you decide to become a Shinigami? If you want to share, that is.”

It’s jarring to hear the question asked aloud to her. Now that it was, she found her answers jumbled. “I guess it was…I mean, it started when…”

Hinamori shook her head. It did little to clear her mind. Her gaze returned to the snow outside. It was like a reflex, something she knew seeing would calm her nerves. As faint memories of the Junrinan danced at the edges of her mind, the answer became clearer.

“I wanted to help others the same way I was,” she said, stilling watching the snow. “I used to remember more clearly how I came to the Soul Society, but it’s faded over time. When  first arrived, I could remember the face of the Shinigami who performed a konso on me. I wanted to see them again, to thank them for being so kind to me and for giving another life, even if I was sad to leave me old on behind.

“For years after that, I hoped I had spiritual potential.” She laughed weakly. “I don’t think I’ve ever been happier than the day I discovered I did. However, by the time I was attending the Academy, I had forgotten what that Shinigami looked like. I still wanted to help others, and I didn’t want my potential to go to waste.”

“That sounds just like you,” Rangiku said, and Hinamori could hear the fond smile in her voice.

“It changed again when…” Shame made Hinamori peter off and hang her head. When I met Aizen, and all I wanted to do was become his lieutenant.

“It’s like I said: what matters is you’re here now, and you can choose what comes next.”

She wasn’t surprised that Rangiku picked up on her unspoken words. She can’t help but smile because of it.

“In my experience, your reason isn’t set in stone,” Rangiku continued, causing Hinamori to return her gaze to her. “That reason continues to evolve as you go along. You find other reasons to keep going, even when your original one doesn’t mean as much to you.”

Hinamori wanted to grab those words – because they were right, so right -- and hold them to herself like a blanket against a blizzard. Yet no matter how much she tried, or how much she repeated them to herself in the hours after Rangiku’s visit, they didn’t sink in and banish the melancholy from her.

_____________________________

They’re walking the streets of the South First District when Rangiku laughs. “You can’t stop touching it.”

Hinamori frowns, then realizes that she’s been wringing a hair strand between two fingers. “I…I didn’t –”

“It’s fine,” Rangiku interrupts. “You’re just getting used to a new style.”

I suspect it will take a long time, Hinamori thinks.

Half an hour ago, her hair was longer. She’d been nervous, but she felt ridiculous it was over  something as simple as a haircut. She’d wanted this, hadn’t she?

When she heard the ‘snip’ of scissors, her gaze had darted over to Rangiku’s reflection, standing behind her and the barber.

‘Don’t worry’ she’d mouthed, and with her words and the next few snips of the scissors, Hinamori managed to get through it.

“I will say though,” Rangiku adds, “this one makes you look really cute!”

“Oh, you think so?” Hinamori says, suddenly self-conscious.

“Yeah, totally!”

It hadn’t been her intention to get it cut for that reason, but she decides to take it as a bonus. “Well, then, thank you. And thank you for being there, I don’t think I could’ve braved it on my own.”

“I’m sure you could’ve, but I wouldn’t have missed this for the world! Making a change like this can be a big deal, right?” She brushes a hand through her own hair. “I would know.”

Hinamori giggles. “We both have shorter hair now, don't we?”

“We’ll be setting a trend before you know it! Just imagine Ise-chan or Captain Ukitake with shorter hair.”

“Rangiku-san!” Hinamori half exclaims, scandalized.

That renews Rangiku’s laughter, and Hinamori finds herself joining in. There’s relief there, too, that they can still have the same comradery as they had developed during her time in Fourth Division. Only now they can go to places together and speak more freely.

“Oh, we’re here!”

Rangiku grabs Hinamori by the elbow and pulls her down an alleyway.

“Why here?” Hinamori asks, searching the alleyway for anything that stands out. Long rows of stalls and shops line walls. It looks like it’s mostly home wares and beauty products.

“It’s why I suggested coming to this district.” Rangiku points to a store off to the right. “There’s this store with hair accessories I go to sometimes. They're pricey but they aren’t cheap-looking or cheaply made." She winks at her "They're made with a Shinigami in mind, so they last a long time and can take some damage. After that, I wanted to do some clothes shopping if you’re up for it. What do you say?”

Hinamori blinks, looking past her friend and down the alleyway of stores and stalls. How is something as simple as bringing her to a store and wanting to shop with her so heartfelt?

It must show on her face, because Rangiku’s grin falls. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“No, it’s nothing,” she’s quick to assure. “Please, don’t worry. It’s silly, but I’m actually really happy. I haven’t been out in the Rukongai in so long, and this feels like a gift.” She shakes her head, embarrassed. “I think today’s been quite the day, and all I did was get a haircut.”

A softness passes over Ragiku’s face. It’s not like when she shows sympathy or relief. It’s something more vulnerable, and it worries Hinamori.

“It wasn’t just a haircut,” Rangiku whispers.

She may have gotten her hair cut for the same reason as her. To show she is moving on. But for Hinamori, it goes a step further. The idea of using her hair cloth and ribbon again feels like it’s from another time long gone by, but it’s a reminder of the routine she had every morning. One she does not want to revisit for several years.

“If you’re too tired, we can go back,” Rangiku offers.

“No,” Hinamori says, an earnest smile shaping her lips. “I want to find something new for my hair. I can’t tie it back anymore, but if these accessories really are that strong, maybe I can get a clip or some pins.”

_______________________

Nearing the room for the lieutenants meeting, Hinamori puts out her senses for the reiatsu. Almost everyone is there, except for Nemu and Yachiru. Genji attended these meeting her place while she recovered, and she’d read all of his notes from them the night before.

Still, she barely feels prepared. How will the room react when she enters? Should she start with ‘Hello, it’s good be back’? Or ‘I apologize for absence’? Or ‘I want to keep working hard with all of you’?

She rounds the corner, the entrance doors ahead, only to come to a stop when she spots two lieutenants blocking her way halfway down the corridor.

“Yo, Hinamori!” Renji comes up to her and Izuru follows behind.

She nearly drop her grin into a wince when Renji claps her too hard on the shoulder. “Abarai-kun, Kira-kun! It’s good to see you both.”

“Good to have you back,” Renji says.

“You’re looking well,” Izuru says. “How have you been?”

“Yes, I’ve been well,” she says. “I’m settling back in to my duties, but I promise to keep working hard like everyone else.”

Renji chuckles and Izuru nods.

“What are you two doing out here?” she asks.

“We figured it’d feel weird to go back in alone,” Renji says. Before she can think how considerate her friends are, Renji jerks his chin at the meeting room entrance. “Come on, lets head in.”

“Actually, before we go…” They wait for her to continue. She had planned to do this after the meeting, but now feels like the right time. “I wanted to thank you both for visiting me while I was recovering. It took me a long time to leave Fourth Division, and I apologize both of you for waiting for so long. Now that I have returned to my duties, I promise I won’t let either of you down.”

Renji and Izuru share a look. It’s not secretive, like other ones she’d seen exchanged between them when they visited her. There’s a fondness, as if seeing a family member succeed and sharing that small victory with each other. It makes her press her lips together, flustered.

After a beat, Izuru lets out a quiet snort and his lips form a gentle smile when his gaze returns to her.

“You’ll find your way of dealing with it too, like we all have.”

“I know you will,” he says. “Welcome back, Hinamori-san.”

“You’ve always been the braver one of the three of us,” Renji says. “Facing down challenges, even when the odds were against you. We knew you would get back on your feet sooner or later.”

Hinamori chuckles. “I don’t know about being the bravest one, but thank you.” She looks to the door at the end of the hallway, and despite the nerves returning, her smile stays in place. “We better go in.”

Walking down the hallways with them takes her back to her Academy years. So many times they walked together, even when they were going to separate classes. They’d eventually gone on their own paths, perhaps by Aizen’s design, but they remained friends. Aizen, for all he did to monopolize her time and mind, could never take that away from her.

Entering the meeting room, there’s no big celebration like she was half expecting. Everyone goes quiet, until Isane stands from her seat and greet her. Chatter breaks out and they come up to her one by one to welcome her back. Rangiku remains behind, smiling from where she sits. Behind her is Nanao, beaming and completely forgetting about the documents she was reading before.

A few eye her with uncertainty. It stings, but it’s understandable. She will take that over pity or distrust.

All the while, Izuru and Renji don’t leave her side until Yachiru and Nemu arrive and the meeting begins.

_______________________

Hitsugaya observed his ‘allies’ fight Harribel, waiting for the opportune moment to strike again. While they hadn’t landed a scratch on the Espada, they were proving to be a formidable force for her, with her having to go on the defensive.

He really could’ve left this fight to them. It was hard to ignore the part of him that wanted to flash-step away and confront Aizen. Though the shorter, blonde woman was abrasive, she’d been right about him getting ahead of himself. Everyone here wanted to confront the traitors, and while he couldn’t gauge the motives of these new ‘allies’, he suspected their goals were different from the Soul Society’s, but perhaps not his.

He returned to the present when they both released their weapons into their shikai forms, and he didn’t have time to wonder why they suddenly have Hollow masks. As they go in to strike again, his attention snapped at an opening at Harribel’s side. He dove in.

“Reign over the frosted heavens, Hyourinmaru!”

Ice flew ahead of him, set to collide with the Espada. Rather than dodge the attack, she turned and glared at him. Despite her usual stoicism, he knew she had been infuriated after she broke out of Hyouten Hyakkaso. She was ready to enact vengeance on him, and he’d been ready to try every Bankai technique at his disposal until these ‘allies’ showed up. She’ll stop at nothing to avenge her fallen subordinates, striking him and whoever stood in her way.

She broke his ice into pieces that flew in every direction. He and the two others avoided the shards, and he kept his focus on Harribel. She still had her eyes on him, and was pulling her arm back to likely shoot a water missile at him. He readied Hyourinmaru to freeze her attack.

The air shifted behind her. She looked over her shoulder. “Lord Aizen…”

She sounded as stunned as Hitsugaya felt. He couldn’t move, paralyzed by the traitor’s sudden appearance. He should strike now, just as he’d wanted to this whole time, but he remained where he was as Aizen cut the Espada through the mid-section. As her blood sprayed through the air, he said something Hitsugaya didn’t register.

It wasn’t enough to take her down. With a growl, Harribel impaled Aizen. For a second, Hitsugaya truly believed he'd lost his chance to kill the traitor.

When there was a pause, however, he knew it couldn’t be real. Sure enough, the illusion broke apart on Harribel’s weapon and she was stabbed through from behind.

Hitsugaya watched her fall as Aizen again spoke. One of the ribbon-like protrusions of her Resurrection form has been cut from the rest of her and fluttered away in the wind.

He knew he shouldn’t be shocked by Aizen's sudden move. He was traitorous to his core, even to is fellow allies. There’s something horrifying about this, however. Something that filled the pit of Hitsugaya’s stomach with dread. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a thought whispered beneath the roar building up in his ears.

She was supposed to avenge her fallen subordinates.

________________________

Granny didn’t ask any questions when he appeared just after dusk. She has a gift for knowing what he needs without him saying so. She’d welcomed him in, handed him a cup of tea, and let him go to the back.

There, Hitsugaya took off and folded up his haori, taking that weight off him for the time being. Now he’s lying on the veranda, tea at his side and resting his head on his arms. A gentle breeze blows through, tousling his hair and the trees. There isn’t a cloud in the sky, and the moon is out of sight.  

His gaze traces the stars, searching them as if they hold the answer he seeks for his conundrum. But much like the distance between him and the sky, it’s out of his reach.

He remembers so many nights star gazing, by himself or with Granny, a few times with Hinamori.

He doesn’t tread further into those memories. Hearing susurration of the leaves, he’s taken back to the battle's aftermath from three weeks ago. Ice cracking after he withdrew his weapon from the Adjuchas. His hazy reflection looking back at him. An undefined one, with the colors of his uniform and hair. Something not yet shaped or brought into clarity.

“Swinging your blade out of a sense of duty is what a Captain does. Swinging your blade out of hate is nothing more than base violence.”

He grunts as if his own words punched him in the chest. He hadn’t thought of his hypocrisy since recovering in Fourth Division, reliving every moment of his confrontation with Aizen, trying to pinpoint the moment he failed. Had he made the same mistake again?

He didn’t hate the Adjuchas or the Gillians beyond the usual animosity between a Shinigami and a Hollow. The battle was won, but he didn’t go there out of any noble cause. He didn’t think of the Humans in the city under his jurisdiction. He didn’t remind himself of ensuring the balance of Souls and Hollows. He spoke the usual rhetoric at the Adjuchas out of habit, not because he was a proud Captain of the Gotei Thirteen.

He told himself he went to because it was an opportunity to see how much his training had improved his skills. Did he need a battle to know that? Why not with a sparring a partner?

The moment before he went to the World of the Living surfaces at the front of his mind.

“It’s been…” She can’t finish, or perhaps doesn’t want to with present company surrounding them. It’s been months since you were last in a battle.

He resists clenching his jaw at the implication. My skills haven’t dulled, he wants to tell her. If anything, they’ve improved. I’ll prove it to you and myself.

Had it really been because of that? A way to vent frustration?

He pushes himself up to sit. With his head hanging low, he takes several sips of lukewarm tea. Granny went to the trouble of preparing this for him and he’s let it cool too much.

It’s not the only time he’s recently left something for too long. He recalls Rangiku tired smile from weeks ago, a sign that they’d been going in circles withthe same conversations. Mingawa’s wane smile and how he remarked his training had shown in the battle. The reactions of his officer, either awed or fearful. His powers had the ability to impress some and frighten others. In the end, they also had the ability to hurt everyone, and some know that from just seeing him in battle.

And what had he done to combat that perception lately? The last time he spoke about something not related to his training, his failings or his work was Rangiku, and that was months ago. He'd forgotten about restarting his Seireitei Communication article. Between today and when he was released from Fourth Division, he'd only visited Grabby twice.

He hasn’t sat down in the mess hall with his officers for dinner in months. Did Tsunashi ever start up the shogi club he proposed months ago? Had Daiwa recently made any new clay sculptures?

He doesn't

That emptiness, because his victory had only been for himself. Not for his officers. Not for Rangiku. Not for Hinamori. His training is his atonement, and he's done it alone. And like always, he’s done it to himself.  

As a child, he would sometimes imagine himself in a void, a world empty of everyone. The only company he’d have is his own shadow, unwillingly attached to him.

Then, when Hinamori came along, she found a place in those daydreams. The world was theirs. He didn't want to experience things on his own anymore. He wanted others there too, even if it was from afar or there was only a few of them. And she had been the one he had the most memories with, the most experiences.

He almost lost her by his own hand, and he may have lost her as a friend. It would have been so simple to visit her. Perhaps that even of itself would’ve been enough, but the way his heart aches tells him otherwise.

He’s nearly lost Rangiku too. Rising up the ranks of the Division, he’s lost more people who could’ve been friends along the way than those who aren’t Shinigami ever will.

“Believe in everyone.”

Hinamori had told him that on a night like this when he’d gone too quiet. It was as she’d read his mind, seeing the loneliness he often shoved away. In that moment, he didn’t believe in himself, but he did in her. That she could form connections with most, that she was his friend.

A long lifespan meant more people you come to care about will die, but she made him see it also meant a better chance of forming connections unlike other beings in the other worlds. Of opening oneself to experience the worlds together. And even if he can never fully atone for what he did, even if their friendship is now forever severed, he can't find a way out of the emptiness on his own.

Something forms in him, reaching him like a water burbling through a crack in the earth. He'll let it grow into a river, perhaps a lake. It feels right, as bright as the fire from inside Granny's house. He looks towards a window, the orange glow inviting, even if he prefers the cold.

He finishes the tea and takes up his haori. When he comes back inside, Granny stands from the fire pit.

“Would you like another cup of tea?” she asks.

“No, thank you,” he says, handing her the empty cup. “I'm sorry we didn't get a chance to talk, but I need to get going.”

Granny’s smile falls. “It’s awfully late. Would you like to stay over? It’s no trouble to set up a futon for you.”

He can’t help but smile. The childish part of him craves for the familiar and warm, but he knows better. The veil was lifted decades ago when Rangiku showed him what he was doing. “Thank you, Baa-chan, but I have an early start tomorrow at the barracks.”

Granny sighs, but nods. “I understand.” She stands and walks with him to see him out the door. “Please visit soon."

"I will."

"Say ‘hello’ to Matsumoto-san and Hinamori-san for me as well.”

The breath freezes in his lung. He wills it out, but it rushes through his nose as a sigh. “I will.”

He means to bid her farewell and leave, but he hesitates. Granny gives him a questioning look, and he whips it away when he gently brings her into a hug.

“Take care, Baa-chan," he bids. "Don’t strain yourself.”

Granny is only stunned for a second before she lets out a huffing chuckle and hugs him in return. She's probably thinking about the last time he did this, which would’ve been decades before he became a Shinigami. He can’t change overnight, perhaps not even in a decade or century, but he can start findings his way back to other Souls now.

_________________________

The next afternoon, Hitsugaya returns earlier than usual from his training. If he's to have dinner with his officers in the mess hall, he'll need to review the joint training schedules Rangiku will have picked up from Third Division.

He’s striding down a hallways on his way to his office when a door ahead of him slides open. Rangiku’s voice wafts out from it, and then another. Just as he recognizes it, the owner steps out.

Hitsugaya halts a few feet away. When he turns to go, Izuru startles seeing him. “Oh, Captain Hitsugaya.”

“Kira,” Hitsugaya says in way of greeting.

“Apologies, I was just on my way out,” Izuru says. “I came to deliver the training proposals.”

Hitsugaya nods. “Matsumoto said they would be done today.”

“Thank you for agreeing to the training. Please let me and Captain Otorobashi know if none of the proposal work for your training purposes.”

Hitsugaya goes to excuse himself and review the documents with Rangiku, who still hasn’t made an appearance. He only takes three steps before he stops.

It’s the only now that Hitsugaya notices Izuru trimmed his fringe. He can almost see both of his eyes. “Before you go…”

Izuru’s brows rise up a notch. “Yes, Captain Hitsugaya?”

“I never thanked you for your assistance during the battle against the Espada and Aizen.” He bows his head. “Thank you for healing Matsumoto, and for protecting her while she was incapacitated.”

Izuru tries maintain a professional exterior, but is lost for words.

Oddly, Hitsugaya finds himself needing to fill the silence. “Let’s continue to work together, in the joint training exercises and other duties. I’ll be counting on your strength in the next battles we face.”

Izuru doesn’t hide his bewilderment this time. “I--Yes, of course, Captain. You can count on me and Third Division to assist.”

“Likewise for Tenth Division.”

Izuru smiles slightly before he excuses himself. Hitsugaya doesn’t move, listening to the lieutenant’s departing footsteps until they're gone. That wasn’t as hard as he imagined. Yes, a part of him wants to cringe and avoid it, but more than that, it’s freeing. As if a part of him that had been sealed off for years finally saw the light of day, or the water from the cracks is slowly becoming a creek.

Swallowing against the tightness in his throat, he closes the gap between himself and the room Izuru exited from. Sure enough, Rangiku sits at the table by the lone window, a hand over her mouth and her eyes wide. On reflex, Hitsugaya crosses his arms and half glares.

“What’s got you bug-eyed?” he snarks.

She lowers her hand, revealing a wide grin. “Oh, nothing.” She pushes out the chair and picks up the training proposal documents from the table. “What can I say, sir? You’ve come a long way.”

He grunts and grits his teeth. “Don’t treat me like a child. I was ensuring our relations with Third Division remain strong.”

“Sure” – she lifts up the documents – “as if these weren’t proof of that already. I’m a bit proud of you, sir!”

Her smile remains as she walks past him towards the office while he follows behind, fighting being flustered by grousing under his breath.

___________________________

She was with her friends.

He was rooted to the spot, and she would only need to loo over her shoulder to see him.

But she doesn't. Her friends kept her occupied, congratulating and making a joke that got them all laughing.

Even if she were alone, he wouldn't approach. He stepped away, falling back into the crowded streets. A whole week had passed since he last saw her. Another week will go by, and another. Perhaps a month, maybe more.

Either way, he should have known this was coming. She was destined to be a Shinigami, and he to remain here. They're from two different worlds. They overlapped for a time, but a decade and a half is a drop in the ocean of how long a Soul lives.

___________________________

Another meeting with all the captains and lieutenants. Hitsugaya lets out a quiet snort. These used to be rare, now it feels like it’s happening every month.

As if reading his mind Rangiku says low enough so only he can hear, "Do you think it's about the negotiation attempts with the Espada?"

"Likely," he says back, but he's distracted. As per usual, Eleventh Division is not here yet. Thirteenth has either until Jushiro sweeps in and greets everyone looking his way. That leaves Twelfth Division and Fifth Division.

His heart leaps. She'll be here. He’d become so used to seeing the empty space where she used to stand, fearing for her position.

It's almost a minute later when there's a flicker of flame. In the distance, on the catwalk bridge, but rapidly getting closer.

Then, her voice. “…need to make sure we’re on time!”

“Hey, don’t freak out! We made it, see?” Shinji walks through the doorway, looking to his right, down at…

Hitsugaya gasps. Thankfully, Rangiku’s the only who hears it. In his peripheral, she looks to Hinamori and Shinji, then back at him with a hand floating to her lips. “Sir…”

It’s her.

She’s lecturing Shinji on something and he cows at her words, but Hitsugaya hears none of it. Her hair, cut the shortest length he's ever seen her with, sways when she turns her head towards an approaching Shuhei and Kensei. Hadn't Rangiku mention the chance? He can't remember, can only see what's in front of him. His hearing is muffled, First Division usual smell of old timber flushed out of his nose, his heart in his throat.

From behind, Rangiku puts a hand on his shoulder and leans down to his ear. “Sir, your reiatsu.”

He’d let some of his control go. None of the surrounding captains or lieutenant give any indication they’ve noticed, but he reigns it in. After taking in a few shaky breaths, he nods his thanks to Rangiku.

“Will you be all right?” she asks, straightening up.

As irrational as it is, he’s afraid to look over and see Hinamori staring back at him. Those eyes, the brown that sometimes lit up as if the fire within her Soul came the surface. He's also seen them darken and glaze over as life drained out of her.

"Shiro…chan…Why?"

Can he bare to see himself reflected in those just he had months ago?

“I have no choice,” he whispers.

Rangiku’s expression falls, as does her hand from his shoulder. “We’ll talk after the meeting.”

He’s not sure about what, because they’ve said everything at this point. Surely they have. And even if he is trying to be more open with others, the emotions whirling through him now are too private for her to know.

The doors of the meeting hall open. They’re ushered in by First Division officers like always, but Hitsugaya is rooted to the spot. Rangiku goes ahead of him, expression neutral and not looking back to check if he’s following.

He forces himself to move. His first few steps are stilted until he can feign a natural stride. It takes everything within him not to look back. It takes even more to go to his usual place in the hall and stare ahead.

Throughout the meeting, he can’t comprehend what the Captain-Commander or the Captains who step forward as they’re called upon say. He tries and fails to listen over the pounding of his heart in his ears.

Her reiatsu sparks. He hadn’t even realized he was keeping track of it. He looks over, compelled by a force like the wind making the leave rustle and moving the clouds across the sky, and finds her staring back at him.

__________________