The warm summer wind blew across him, making his hair flow with it. It was a lovely evening, really. He sat on the wooden steps of the porch, looking into the sunset. He didn't really like summer, but coming here was worth it.
It brought back memories.
Past the stares in the street, past the rickety old stalls that still operated in Rukongai, he had declared today an unofficial day of rest for himself. Back in his office, Matsumoto took her time filling in the oh-so-important paperwork that all captains had to do. What he didn't know, of course, was that she understood why today was so important to him.
"Hinamori!"
He was at her side in an instant. She smiled at him, as more blood spurted from her wound. Aizen's sword had struck true and clear, severing her spirit chain and spirit sleep, as well as dealing a mortal wound to her. They were far from any help.
"Shiro-chan…" she raised her hand weakly, and touched his face. "You've grown so much."
He placed his smaller hand over hers and held it to his cheek.
"Promise me you'll remember me." She said softly, a tear slowly running down the side of her face.
"Don't say that! You're going to be fine." He cut her off, desperately, not wanting to hear the truth. The rain pounded down upon them, as if sounding the final notes to her faltering life.
"Do you remember the days before we became Shinigamis? We used to sit at the back of your house, and eat watermelons. You just tunneled your way through them." She laughed, and choked up more blood as she did so. "You, the little kid who spat watermelon seeds in my face when I called you Shiro-chan, a captain now."
She began to fade, her breaths becoming more and more ragged.
"Hinamori!" he cried, cradling her head in his arms. Why didn't he take the time to learn healing magic? Why? "Don't leave me. Please!"
"Toshiro-kun, you have given me so much joy in my life. There was… never a time where I didn't enjoy your company. Arigato gozeimasu… Shiro-chan."
"Don't die." He said, his boyish voice breaking. "I don't have anyone else besides you. How can I live?"
"Baka…" she gasped, nearing her end. "You have so many people. You're a captain!"
"None of them understand me as much as you, Momo-chan." He tried to reason with fate, as if his explanation would bring about her redemption. He began to sob, losing control for after what seemed like ages. She smiled again, bringing his head down onto her chest.
"Even as a kid, you never cried." She said softly. "I am glad that I at least made you show some emotion. Goodbye, Shiro-chan. I will always love you."
"Momo-chan, don't go." He sobbed, burying his face into her still form. "I need you. Please…. Just…. Please…." He choked, tears finding their way out of his eyes.
She was gone; his childhood friend, the girl who paid attention to him when no one would. The girl who put up with his grumpy self and even came back to see him after being accepted into Death God school. She was gone…
A drop of salty liquid forced its way out of his cold blue eyes, making a trail down his face. There he sat, in his full captain's uniform, so powerful, so majestic. Facing the sunset, admiring the golden hue of the evening.
"Momo-chan…" he said, his voice breaking ever so slightly. Images of her life flashed before him. How she had admired Aizen so much, even going as far as to raise her sword against him. He had often wondered during that time whether she cared more for him, or more for her beloved captain. He didn't have to wonder any more. She was gone. If only he had treated her with a bit more emotion and love, instead of shunting her away with coldness and authority. What was he thinking? Compared to her, he was only a child. A child that she had cared for, even when the child became of a higher rank than herself!
"Gomenasai, Hinamori." He said, starting to shake with emotion. Who did he have left now? Matsumoto? She liked him, but other than that she had other matters to attend to. It was more respect than companionship in her point of view. The boy-genius buried his head in his hands and genuinely wept, something he never did. His sobs racked his minute body, and even Hyourinmaru knew not to say anything.
A thump of something placed on the ground startled him. Why hadn't he felt this reiatsu in the first place? He glanced to his right, and laid eyes on the juicy fresh watermelons that had been laid in a basket on the porch beside him. A hand patted his shoulder.
"Yo, Toshiro… kun."
"It's Captain Hitsugaya to you." He tried to reply as snidely as he always did, but he knew such acts were futile against Kurosaki Ichigo, of all people. "How did you know I was here?"
"My mother died on June 14th." The yellow haired teenager replied. "Every year during that day, I go and visit her grave. I always act a bit weirdly the day before, but no one really notices, except for Rukia. You were acting weirdly yesterday, Toshiro-kun."
Hitsugaya didn't bother to correct Ichigo. Despite his arrogant attitude and brash demeanor, at this time, this kid was actually a comfort to him.
"Go on, eat." Ichigo had already indulged himself in one of the huge slices of fruit. Slowly, the white-haired boy picked one up himself, memories flooding his mind. How they had sat here together those many days, calling each other names and eating that red fruit. Another surge of sadness rushed through him and he trembled as he tried to control himself.
"She's gone…" he whispered, his voice quivering slightly as he bit into the watermelon. The salt from his tears mixed with the fruit gave it a slightly strange taste.
He dropped the watermelon onto the ground.
"I'm sorry… I can't…" he stammered through his sobs.
To his great surprise, he felt Ichigo's arm around his shoulder. The bigger boy pulled him closer to himself, allowing the smaller framed captain's to rest against his shoulder. Normally he would have resisted, but not today.
"I don't need your pity." He managed to whisper out.
"Ah. Wakata." Ichigo replied, not too concerned. For awhile, both of them sat there, gazing into the sunset. If one were to pass through the backyard at that moment, they would be astonished at the sight a minute captain resting in the arms of a rank-less Shinigami with orange hair.
"So this is your house, eh? Hitsugaya?" Ichigo spoke to the silky white head that rested against him. "Eh, ano?"
Hitsugaya had apparently fallen asleep. Deep breaths emanated from his lungs, and once in awhile he shifted and muttered Hinamori's name.
"Ahh, how troublesome." Ichigo thought.
He gently picked up the captain effortlessly with one hand, the basket of nearly finished watermelons in the other. He looked back into the sunset for a moment. He could have sworn he saw his mother's face smiling down at him.
"I miss you, kaa-chan."
Through the twilight streets of Rukongai, as they drew stares from the crowd again, Hitsugaya, cradled in Ichigo's arms, finally felt at peace.
"Arigato, Momo-chan."