The captain of the fifth division scratched his nose as he looked searchingly up at the front of the division barracks. The smell of new paint stretched its long fingers into the unwitting nostril of every passing shinigami, a constant, tangible reminder of their metaphorical "fresh start". The black character 五, emblazoned on the whitewash, was gleaming in the sun. There was nothing to suggest the trauma and hatred his subordinate had inflicted on the place during his years on the run, no visible contamination on the pristine paintwork, but the aura of distrust hung over the place, embedded into the very fibre of his new officers. He couldn't supress the growl that grew in his throat, flashing his teeth in a bitter grimace.

And I was so sure I had the measure of you, Sousuke. I was so sure I could stop you. But you'd planned for that as well. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, thinking of the bony layer that would form there, now as irremovable a part of his as his own Zanpakutou, his own hand.

"Ugh." With another grimace, Shinji shook the memories from his head. What if, if only… such thoughts were pointless and infuriating. Now he owed it to his former, no, his reclaimed division, to help heal the wounds that Aizen Sousuke had left behind.

"Er… Taichou?"

"Eh?" Shinji looked over his shoulder to see a man leading a procession of awkwardly-standing shinigami. Closer inspection showed they all appeared to be carrying a long door panel between them. His moody expression lightened to one of quizzical confusion. "What on earth are you doing with that?"

"We've brought it from seventh, sir. It's the new door for your office?"

"I get a new door?"

"Yes-sir…?" The head of the door-wielding procession was panting slightly. A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead.

"Well, cool!"

"Yes…" The shinigami looked blankly at him. Shinji continued to grin jovially back.

"Er, sir? You're standing in the doorway…"

"I'm what, sorry?"

"The doorway?"

"Oh!" The captain scratched the back of his head sheepishly as he stepped aside. The lead door-carrier looked relieved, moving lopsidedly into the comparative gloom of the entrance hall. "Well… keep up the good work! Yaay!"

There was no reply except a slightly perturbed expression from one or two of the shinigami as they moved past him.

Hmph. Never mind. I'll see them later.

He turned on his heel and walked more purposefully across the courtyard. Before he'd gotten distracted, he'd been on his way somewhere.

The sun was sticky hot; the shadows that crept over him as he approached the inside of the high wall surrounding the barracks offered a slice of cool relief. A small table was positioned beside the gate, and a bored-looking gate guard standing beside that. A bottle of water rested temptingly on the edge of the table. Shinji tried not to stare too hard at it, instead nodding to the guard as he approached.

"Sir."

"Nice work Toyota."

"Toyoda, sir, thank you."

"My bad, sorry… are you drinking this?" Shinji flicked up the bottle of water and caught it in his right hand.

"Er, well… no."

"Awesome! I owe you one!"

Shinji left the shade of the wall and moved out into the dusty, dry street. There was someone he had to meet. Someone who had been conspicuous by their absence at his captain's inauguration two days previously.

Shinji shielded his eyes from the sun as he walked down the centre of the road. People walked past him, but in the sheltered edges of the walkway, and he strolled interrupted, his unenthusiastic expression showing little of the thoughts that bombarded his skull.

The betrayal to the Gotei had been vast, lives upturned, blood spilt, loyalties trampled. But Hinamori… Hinamori Momo had perhaps, lost more than any other in the Winter War.

Brainwashed, poor kid. Shinji winced. He had been filled in on the events leading up to Aizen's treacherous departure, but there was more than that. He had witnessed first-hand Momo's exploitation. She had recovered from the psychological effects of Aizen's first attack. Time, care, and her own determination, had drawn her will away from the man who had so used her. She was stronger, she had wanted to make amends… But even her attempts for justice had been soiled by that man. Even after he'd attained everything he desired… he couldn't resist using his power over her one last time.

And I let him do it. To think I could have killed him a hundred or more years ago. Shinji was becoming frustrated again. The plastic of the bottle crunched in his fist. He wrenched the lid off and tipped it over his head, allowing the lukewarm water to trickle down his hot, agitated neck. He was aware of a woman watching him in confusion from the shade of a tree.

Screw it. He lobbed the now-empty bottle over the nearest wall and disappeared into shunpo. The street was left empty apart from the hanging dust and the small, evaporating spots on the ground.

"Just this way sir."

Shinji followed the lab coat-clad twelfth division officer, a tawny-haired woman, out of the lift, and into a well-lit corridor. The building didn't have the clinical, scrubbed look of the fourth division, but was not what he had expected from twelfth either. It was clear someone had tried to make an effort to make the wing more homely and habitable, though a perpetual smell of burning seemed to cling faintly to the walls.

"First door on the right."

"Thanks." The woman bowed respectfully before retreating back into the lift. The doors slid shut with a pneumatic hiss, and Shinji was alone.

What do I say? He strode purposefully down the corridor, but stopped before her door, one hand on the doorknob. What would she think? Would she remember him? Worse, if she did, would she blame him? How much did she know about his past?

He couldn't put this meeting off. The thought was ridiculous. But as he stood in the silent hallway, Shinji felt the fear growing in his chest. What would she say? Would she accuse him?

She has every right to. You owe her the chance. So march right in there and let her.

His fingers tightened on the door handle, before he realised he really ought to be knocking. He tapped softly on the wood.

"Come in."

Not allowing himself to hesitate, Shinji let himself into the room, turning to make sure he wasn't going to catch his haori in the doorframe, and that the door was closed, before turning to look at her.

A young woman sat in a chair beside a low window sill. The sun shone cheerfully through the window, casting mottled patterns on the floorboards through the swirly patterned glass. Unlike everywhere else in Seireitei, the room was pleasantly cool, odd, since the window was only fractionally open. Vases of fresh flowers stood on every surface, and it seemed as if someone had done their best to make the room homely. Drawings and sketches were scattered on a hardwood desk. Shinji allowed himself to take all this in for only a moment, before moving across to where Hinamori Momo sat. She smiled pleasantly up at him.

"Hinamori-fukutaichou, I'm Hirako Shinji."

Her lips parted in a grin, showing small, even teeth. "I know. It's nice to meet you, Taichou."

Shinji returned the smile gratefully.

"Please, sit down. I was hoping you would come and visit me. I was sorry to miss your swearing-in, but they wouldn't discharge me."

At this, Shinji's eyes flickered to the young woman's hands. They were folded neatly on her lap, but the sleeve of her left wrist had been tugged up slightly, and he could see her tiny wrist, the bones prominent beneath the skin. On the other sleeve, he could discern what looked like a small plastic tube, a reminder that all was not yet healed here, despite the vice-captain's serene expression. She had a kind, pretty face, but even the bright smile couldn't conceal the bags that darkened her eyes.

"Na, it doesn't matter. A lot of pomp and waffle, I'd rather have missed it if I could."

She looked surprised. "Oh, no. It's one of our oldest traditions. Right from the beginning, the ceremony of a new captain is a very important event. Tradition. I remember Shiro-chan's inauguration…" she tailed off, smiling to herself. Shinji didn't quite know what to say.

"Well, I'm here now."

"Yes, you are, Taichou," Then in half a second, Momo's eyes had darkened and she spoke urgently. "I'll be out soon. The nurse says I'm better every day, and I can be discharged soon, and then I can get back to my duties for all the things I've missed out on and-"

"Whoa! Woah, woah, woah, hold up! I didn't come here to hurry you up, Hinamori-san, I'm here to introduce myself!" Shinji looked aghast at his companion. She seemed to be panting slightly, desperate in her assurances. "You'll be here as long as you need. Besides, I'm an old hand at the job, I'll manage." He lifted the corners of his mouth in a smile again, and she smiled uncertainly back.

She doesn't look old enough to have had all this happen to her. Shinji thought with distaste. As much for himself as to lift the awkward silence that had fallen upon them, he nodded to the nearest vase of flowers.

"You've got a fair few of them. Lots of admirers?"

Hinamori giggled. "Not like that. But Shiro-chan and Kira-kun send me flowers every week. And those ones are from Renji-kun, Nanao-chan… and … Isane-san." She pointed each out as she spoke. "Sometimes Rangiku-san brings me strawberry daifuku."

Shinji raised a smile again, which she returned, before lifting her notebook off the windowsill, and beginning to sketch. He watched her in silence for a minute, before she spoke.

"Is it true they're rebuilding now?"

"Yep. I get a new office and everything. I think my new office door has been stolen from seventh division though…"

She blinked at him. "Stolen?"

"Eh… not… really. Never mind."

"Well, I hope they don't take down the peach tree outside my office window. I know I'm not there to enjoy it at the moment, but the blossoms are beautiful at this time of year. I missed seeing them."

"I won't let them touch a single tree without your say-so."

She smiled brightly. "Thank you, Hirako-taichou."

"It's nothing, Hinamori-kun."

It was true he had spoken without thinking, but he couldn't have anticipated the effect that single address would have on the young woman. She flinched as if struck, and her eyes became downcast, fixed seemingly on her lap. "Please don't call me that."

Shinji's eyes widened as he realised his mistake.

Shit.

"I'm sorry, Hinamori-san."

She remained frozen in her seat. The temperature in the room seemed to have dropped from cool to chill. For a moment silence hung in the air. Shinji bit his lip in agitation, furiously berating himself. Eventually, she spoke, in a small voice.

"Forgive me. It's not your fault."

"Hinamori-"

"Everything…" her voice cracked. "Everything reminds me of him." She looked up, and her face was anguished, tears streamed freely down her cheeks, dripping onto the page of her notebook. "I see bits of him everywhere!"

Her head spun, looking around the room, as if expecting the man Shinji so despised to appear from behind the desk, the curtain, to stroll in through the door. Her eyes fell back to her sketchbook, and Shinji's followed. A small moan escaped her, and she tore the page from its bindings, thrusting the crumpled sheet away from her, before she returned to destroy the other pages. Alarmed, Shinji moved out of his chair and across to her, pulling the notebook gently away, and taking both of her bony wrists in his hands.

"Hinamori-san, look at me." She did, her tortured brown eyes meeting his with a look of anguish.

"He is never coming back. Not ever."

She pressed her lips together tightly, more tears spilling from the corners of her eyes.

"I was betrayed by him as well, you know."

Her eyes appeared to uncloud slightly, the shaking in her shoulders calmed.

"What did he take from you?" the words were no more than a whisper.

"Everything. My home, my position, my dignity, and the dignity of my friends. But Momo, I fought back. Just as you are doing now. He has no hold over me now. And nor will he over you."

She drew a deep, shuddering breath.

"You have to believe you'll come through this. Because I promise you will. I promise."

Her eyes remained fixed on his, but she slowly nodded.

"Promise me you'll try and let him go."

"I promise." The words were barely audible.

"Good. I believe you. Now…" He stood up carefully. "I need to make sure Komamura isn't tearing down the HQ on a hunt for his office door, if my suspicions were correct."

She raised a watery smile. "Don't let my peach tree become a casualty of a war over a door."

"Hell no. Wouldn't want to make you angry, I hear you're Kido corps material…?"

Her expression brightened, and she blushed slightly. "Who said that?"

"Just a bird. In your peach tree."

She smiled again. Shinji picked up the battered notebook and placed it on the windowsill. "I want to see that in one piece next time I come, ok?"

"Hai, Taichou."

"Good. Later, Hinamori-fukutaichou."

With a final smile, Shinji turned away, slipping softly out through the door.

In the safety of the corridor, the smile dropped instantly from his face. He moved back towards the lift in silence, hitting the button as though it had insulted him, before dropping his head into his hands.

It was as he'd feared then.

He couldn't shake the image of that anguished face. Even now, from the depths of the maggots nest, Aizen Sousuke continued to torture her. One day she'd be free from her paranoia, the constant reminders of him which lurked like phantoms in her mind. But the memories would never leave her. And that was something he would never be able to stop blaming himself for.

The lift doors hissed open, and Shinji stepped into the metallic space, which was thankfully empty. The doors slid closed, shutting him in alone with his own inescapable guilt.