Characters: Hitsugaya, Hinamori
Summary: Her eyes are the only sign of life, and even that isn't too reliable.
Pairings: HitsuHina
Warnings/Spoilers: Spoilers for Soul Society arc
Timeline: post-Soul Society arc, pre-Arrancar arc
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.
"Hey, Hinamori. …I'm sorry I haven't been by to see you for the past few days. I've had a lot to do."
When he comes to the hospital Hitsugaya is told that Hinamori's conscious again, but really, though her eyes are open and they follow him around the room Hitsugaya wouldn't call the state Hinamori's in consciousness. Her waxen face is expressionless and slack; though her eyes swivel and move there's no light in them, nothing resembling life except for the fact that, yes, they are moving. She doesn't move, her breathing light and shallow. There's no words coming from her.
It's as though Hinamori's been paralyzed. Whether this is due to the cocktail of painkillers, antibiotics and sedatives she's been prescribed, due to lethargy or some malaise on her heart and mind Hitsugaya can't be sure. It's like he's staring at a stranger who's donned Hinamori's skin.
Where has that sparkle gone?
A little bit of wind from the open window (someone's left the window open; who, Hitsugaya doesn't know) rustles in Hitsugaya's white hair as he strains for words to say to her that maybe Hinamori will respond to—something that will reach her. Something that can be gentle and reach her, even though Hitsugaya's never been good at being gentle. It's just not in his nature to be gentle, it's not something that comes naturally to him.
But he'll try anyway, for her sake. He owes Hinamori that much.
"Listen…" Hitsugaya breaks off, and licks his dry lips. He can't think of what to say—and what's he supposed to say to someone who can't or won't respond?
Her eyes are fixated on the ceiling now and Hitsugaya wishes she would look at him. Look at him, for just a moment, so he'd know she's still listening. If she was ever listening at all.
His own breath, meanwhile, fills up the room and makes the air stale and dry and unbearable to be in. Hitsugaya remembers the sight of her black blood on the floor and the light flashing off of Aizen's glasses—fear and rage had overwhelmed him and he hadn't thought about what he was doing. Rushing into vengeance without thinking it over first isn't something he'll be attempting in the future, Hitsugaya promises himself (Though he'll break the promise later, and for the same reason, the reason it's always been, for her, always for her).
Hinamori doesn't answer, just as she never answers. Hitsugaya suddenly finds himself wanting to apologize to her, and he has no idea why.
Maybe it's because he can't understand her. Maybe she really is trying to talk to him and he just can't hear her because he's too wrapped up in his own pain and fear to hear her.
But this seems unlikely. Hinamori is lying flat in bed, unresponsive except for the open, glassy eyes that occasionally flicker to let others know she's still breathing. She's probably thinking of Aizen—her captain who lured her in and skewered her like a pig for the slaughter while still smiling. The captain who hoodwinked her, had her taken in but never really cared about her at all, anymore than he cared about anyone.
Hitsugaya stands and sighs, the action painful thanks to his own bandaged ribs. His own wounds are not entirely healed; that much allows him to, on the most superficial level, understand what Hinamori's going through.
He leans down, considers kissing her cheek but stops himself just before. Hitsugaya can't quite bring himself to this level.
The breeze sighs through the open window as he leaves. The song it sings, neither of them know.
Hitsugaya can feel Hinamori's eyes on his back for hours after he's gone.