Hitsugaya pushed away thoughts of those times, distraction found in the process of brushing off every last snowflake and unwrapping the scarf from around his neck. He folded it with care, the warmer a gift from Hinamori one birthday long ago, and draped it on the back of the sole visitor chair.
"Captain meeting," he explained to his delay, two words that would not be answered or greeted. Hitsugaya frowned, at himself for that whimsical hope of a response, and looked out the window to watch the snow drift through the air. Hinamori had not been given a room with a window at first, but he knew that she liked her fresh air, especially as she slept. The fourth division did not like to have suggestions made, but with some strings pulled and a few quiet words with Unohana, Hinamori had been moved to a private room with a window to the inner courtyard. Fresh air and a peaceful view would greet her when those soft brown eyes opened once more.
Until then, Hinamori continued to slumber, locked in the coma that descended when a trusted blade pierced her skin. He sighed, irritated at the heavy guilt that memory brought, and sat down on the edge of her bed, careful not to disturb her. Though past the hesitation that once kept him from the room -- a near insurmountable guilt over failing to protect and avenge her -- he often moved in a fashion to avoid disrupting her, even locked in this deathly sleep as she was.
Silence stretched during his vigil, words not to be lost on ears that could not hear them. Hitsugaya watched Hinamori, outwardly calm as the drifting snow. Long though he did to hear her voice, he could find a measure of content in listening to the soft breathing, no longer supported by the kidou and medical technology of the fourth division. Soft that the sound was, it was a reminder that she continued to live. That, barring all other hopes, was the key foundation of his self-denied optimism.
The burst of a firework interrupted his reverie, the herald of a winter festival. Hitsugaya blinked and looked at the window, landscape tinted in a fading red as the colours fell. Irritation briefly touched his features, but he shook it away. Disruptive sound that it was, the bright colour it added to the sky, combined with the snowfall, created a brilliant scene. He looked back to Hinamori, unable to enjoy the moment with him. She loved fireworks almost as much as she did snow, it would have been a wonderful sight to wake up to, but nothing stirred on her pale features to indicate that chance.
Hitsugaya sighed at the straying thoughts, running a hand absently through his hair. Green eyes looked upon the sleeping girl once more, the brilliant colours of the fireworks shedding light on her. The corner of his lips turned up, an amused smile at his own observations. Slow and awkward, he reached out and closed his fingers around her still hand. "You always looked best under the fireworks," he murmured, squeezing her hand gently. "Hinamori, wake up soon so we can watch them again."