It was true the universe, or whatever power mastered destiny, gave her a bad hand with Sousuke and those fifteen years of Hell she spent with him. It was enough to put wrinkles across her face and tint her honey skin some ugly grey, it was enough to ruin her once lilted voice, it was enough to weigh down her limbs.

But this was enough to put an extra century or so on anybody's face. It was more than what was called for with what she had already suffered.

She was okay though. She, Momo Hinamori, knew how to manage when every part of her ached. She dared argue that it was when she was most productive- anything and everything that kept her mind off her heartbreak, her grief, her horror, her self-loathe. Even the mass destruction the Quincies caused rolled off her back and she took it in stride so long as she didn't dwell on the amount of tally marks on her sheet. Not even the smell of burnt fat and gore really affected her.

Nanao's hand clasped her shoulder as they watched other officers heave yet another charred husk onto the cart. Her friend had tied a wet rag around her face as if it would smother the fetid air, but she wondered, as she watched Nanao's eyes shine, if it was partly to catch her tears. Nanao's coldness was bravado. Was she put in the field, it took every fiber of her self-discipline to hold herself together. She wasn't seasoned to battle, or it consequences, like their coworkers.

"Rest," Nanao's voice was almost lost in her rag, but it would've been easy to guess what her friend would've said regardless if she could've heard it or not. "You've been up even longer than our captains. You're useless if you collapse."

The concern in her voice betrayed her intentions, but Nanao was smart and knew what buttons to push to get people to do what she wanted. She was almost as good as Sousuke in that way.

She wordlessly handed over her clipboard and made her way through the debris. She wondered if she had stayed up long enough she wouldn't toss and turn for hours until she actually fell asleep, she wondered if she was exhausted enough she wouldn't remember her nightmares. They plagued her even worse at that time than even just after Aizen stabbed her.

The tents were a virtual city that had sprung up in a matter of hours just after word of Juha Bach's death circulated. They weren't meant to serve privacy or privilege, only as a center where officers could rest and refuel until they had to return to the mess that lie just outside of it. It was always full and always busy, but the only sounds were that of quiet snores, footfalls, chopsticks against trays, a sob every couple of minutes. It was the place where the massive losses finally sunk in, without any distractions. She hated the place for that reason. It made it even harder to breathe than where the smell of death coated nearly her every orifice.

She laid on a low bunk. She didn't bother with the blankets because they were well-used and filthy and of no comfort to her. Blackness consumed her as soon as her head hit the pillow. Thank God. She may not able to hold herself together otherwise.

She was a light sleeper when she wasn't comatose. Bumps, whispers, feather-like touches were enough to rouse her in most cases. It was her excuse why she didn't sleep for days- it was impossible for her to wake when she was worked to her very bones, but a relatively sedentary lifestyle, like her work normally was, made it difficult.

That time, it was an argument that woke her.

However much she loved her brother, however glad she was that he was alive, he needed to tone it down if he wanted to keep his vocal cords.

She took her arm off her eyes as she sat up. And then, for the first time since the invasion, tears sprang to her eyes as her gaze laid to rest on a familiar head of blonde hair and the handsome nose that peaked just beyond his bangs.

"Oh my god, Izuru!"

She didn't care how many eyes were on her as she raced over to him. All of her boys were alright, all of her boys were home and in one piece. She had kept it together the entire time, she was allowed at least one lapse in her stoicism.

Izuru caught her wrists as she made to hold him. It was then her sight caught it; the mass in the shape of his arm that seemed to absorb every bit of light that hit it, the hole in his side.

Her sobs turned into horrified shrieks. It felt exactly like the first time she discovered the body of a lover, how it felt like it was she pinned up on that wall instead Aizen. It was as if her chest had been blown off too that moment. Her eyes ached, she couldn't catch her breathe, and then it went as dark as that arm.

She wondered, for half a second, if that entire thing had just been a bad dream. But Izuru was still there, the hole in his chest and his arm still in clear view, and Toushirou called her name as he held her upright with his forearms under her pits. She must've been out for only a few seconds….

"I told you this would happen, you fool. I hope this makes you happy." Izuru growled. She was about to shout his name as her lover turned away, but it died into some pathetic blubber.

"Can you stand?"

Her head whipped to her brother then. She couldn't seem to gather her thoughts for a moment, and then she finally nodded.

"Kira's… a lot of things right now." Toushirou said. "I know you'll think this is your fault in some way if you haven't already, but it isn't. It's just hard for him for you to see him like this."

Her brother's reassurances fell onto deaf ears. It felt as if her heart tore from her aorta and sunk into her belly. She couldn't make herself stop crying, all the pain Izuru must be in whirled in her head. She barely registered when Toushirou shout for everyone to mind their own business.

"Grab grab something to eat and then get back to work." He told her then. She could do that, the work part at least. She wouldn't be able to eat so long as she was so emotional. Food didn't sit well in her stomach was she was like that.

The trip to her captain was a blur, his orders were a blur, all the hours she moved rubble and counted bodies were a blur. She couldn't even say if Nanao was with her or not. She could only replay that terrible sight over and over.

She was physically removed from that sense after someone grabbed her shoulder.

It was Renji, and Shuuhei was at his flank with trays under his arm. Her clipboard clattered on the ground as she fell into them. She bent them to her level and kissed their faces as they held her. It was hard to hold herself together around her lovers, when they cried together so often, when they made her feel loved and alright after her meltdowns.

"Ise tells us you've been out of it all day." Renji said as he picked her up by the back of her knees. Of course Nanao would tattle. Granted, she wasn't sure if she entirely blamed her friend, she thought as she laid her cheek on her lover's temple.

"Izuru's back and I didn't take it well." She sniffed. She knew she would cry again after she checked back into reality, she hated how gross her face was when she cried.

"Neither did I." Shuuhei said. He, like her, must've wailed. People like them just couldn't catch a break. Their hearts were always an open wound.

She sat between them on a fallen pillar. She laid her head on Shuuhei's shoulder as he set a tray on her lap. Rice and beans. She would light them a fire and warm her cold feet, but the idea quickly made her sick with the stench of burnt human flesh still so thick.

"Eat, you're as gaunt as a skeleton." Renji chided. She lamely touched her food to her lips, but like normal, she simply couldn't bring herself to have single meals. She couldn't stomach anything for days or weeks, and then binged when her body finally couldn't be starved anymore.

Still, she had been in less comfortable circumstances in the past. Little bites, she thought, so her stomach wouldn't heave. Just to make Renji happy.

"Where've you guys been?" She asked.

"Mostly in the west end of the Seireitei with squads seven and thirteen. We've been helping with reconstruction since that area's been cleared." Shuuhei replied.

"Good. I'm glad we're getting some of the barracks back. I can't stand the tents."

"You're never so abashed around us." Shuuhei said with some mild tone of smugness. That tone once made her knees weak and loins hot, but it didn't seem to do anything to her then. It made her even sadder for some reason. She still hadn't given them that. The thought made her relive every time Aizen fucked it, it brought back the phantoms of his unkind hands.

"I can keep you gentlemen clean." She snort, as if they all weren't still covered in welts and grime. "The tents are disgusting. So much filth can't be good for anyone's health."

"It won't be long. We are prioritizing living quarters, after all, starting with the captains' quarters and moving down. Everybody's been starting shit lately because of how packed together we are, so it'll be good to have real beds to sleep in." Shuuhei said.

She and Renji hummed.

Renji nudged her with his elbow. "How've you been holding up?"

Her tears dripped onto her rice. Shuuhei kissed her scalp and combed his fingers through the tresses. It didn't soothe her heartache like his touch normally could. It couldn't fill the hole in Izuru's side, it couldn't restore his arm, it couldn't bring back the sheen to his eyes, so of course it couldn't relief her aches.

Renji sniffed. "Eat," he told her. "We'll take this one step at a time. There are other bridges we have to cross before that one."

Part of her hoped her grief finally suffocated her.