I do not own Bleach.
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He watched he as she shyly crossed the boardwalk to her captains' quarters, only the pounding of feet again wood could be heard, his turquoise eyes following her until she slid the door to Aizen's room shut. Silence.
Hitsugaya sat on the roof to his quarters letting the wind dance through his silver hair. He had always watched Hinamori take paperwork in and out of the 5th divisions captains' room at night. She was always so nervous around her captain, Hitsugaya could never figure out why. He was a boy genius, yes, but women, bah! No man could figure out a woman, not matter how high his IQ was.
Hitsugaya loathed Aizen, not because of how Hinamori felt for him. He knew she truly loved her captain with all her heart, that she made that obvious, but because it was so obvious that she loved him and yet the captain never did anything about it apart from play on her emotions.
Jealously? Maybe. He wasn't too sure.
He sighed heavily, rubbing his temples gently. It had been a hectic day, loads of paper work was due in but the 13th division captain couldn't keep his mind in one place. Hinamori ran through his head constantly, he had always been a brat to her in the old days in district 1 but his feelings had matured and now his heart ached.
He cared about the vice captain more than anything in the world, oh how he wished he could tell her. Hold her close and whisper sweet nothings in her ear but he knew he would never gain the courage to tell her. He could face the menos and worse but to tell Hinamori he loved her? No way.
The only way Hitsugaya could show her he cared was to protect her against anything or anyone. To that he had sworn on his duty as a soul reaper.
He, now, could only imagine his vice captain lying on his futon, drunk off her face on sake, not even bothering to continue with the work. He let out another sigh of annoyance, letting his mind slip from Hinamori a while
Hearing the door slide back open, Hitsugaya shot his eyes back to Hinamori's direction. He watched her jog across the boardwalk once again, her robes twirling behind her and back into her own room, sliding the door silently shut.
She never knew he was watching her and she would never know how much he loved her.
He was her "shiro-chan" and her, his "bed wetter Momo" always; he liked it that way.