Author's Note: Yet another interesting chapter to write. Most of this has to do with Aizen's betrayal and how it affected Hinamori and Tobiume. Therefore the scenery is very descriptive. Tell me what you think!

Tobiume

Hinamori Momo is a paradox.

In some ways, she is very young. Physically she is pretty in a girlish, modest way. She is kind and caring to everyone, and gentle like a young maiden. She can be carefree and laughs as though the weight of the world does not rest on her thin shoulders, even when it sometimes does. Sometimes she is unsure of herself like a teenage girl. She is infuriatingly naive and as trusting as an energetic puppy.

In other ways, Hinamori is wise beyond her years. She loves with the intensity of someone who has seen generations of death, and with her whole heart, goodly and purely. She has an aversion to violence, but understands that it is sometimes necessary to keep order. She cares for me like a mother or protective older sister, trying her best not to stain me with the blood of our enemies. She is as responsible and uncorrupted as a saint because she knows the kind of power she wields. She is as loyal as the oldest hound dog.

Hinamori was wholesome once. She was more young than old, more pup than hound. I remember gritting my teeth in frustration at her gullible ways, at her lack of discipline. How bitter I grew when I saw and felt the love that she showered on her colleagues, on Hitsuiga Toshiro and Rangiku Matsumoto and Sosuke Aizen. Those three people in particular she would have sacrificed everything, everything, even me for.

And one of them betrayed her.

How can one strike at an energetic puppy, yipping and ready to play and learn? How can one crush a blossoming flower in the palm of their hand, or grind a newborn butterfly into the dust with the sole of their shoe? How? How?

How did I not realize what that damnable Sosuke Aizen was doing to her?

I, who am one and separate of her soul. I, who am her ultimate soul mate. I, who am her same. I should have caught on from the very beginning, and yet I turned a blind eye to all of the signs. I ignored how the grass dulled in color and grew sharp under my feet in the tranquil gardens that is Hinamori's inner world. I dismissed how the roses grew speckled, and how the daisies lost their petals, and how the irises turned gray. I stopped lounging in the trees so I wouldn't have to face the fact that the branches would no longer support me. Only when the giant plum tree in the center of my universe ceased giving plump, violet fruit did I realize what was happening. By then it was too late.

Hinamori Momo was broken, and by association I was too.

Selfishly I looked for someone to blame. I wanted to blame Aizen, but Hinamori wouldn't allow it. After all that had transpired in the outside realm, she still loved him as her superior and as her friend. I tried to crush my Shinigami with guilt then, because of her nativity and her poor judgement, but one cannot shatter what has already been obliterated. My accusations buzzed around her ears like roaming flies, but she did not hear them. I gave up.

We clutched each other desperately as we watched Hinamori's inner world, that which we had regarded on of the most beautiful places on Earth and in Soul Society, whither away. Miles and miles of lush greenery browned and turned to ash. The starburst chrysanthemums shriveled. Bright yellow daffodils that dotted the meadows curled into feminine faints. Glistening white lilies closed like the fist of a skeleton. Violets dropped their petals to the ground, one by one. Bluebells rotted from the roots up. Orchids, which were once gorgeous streamers, became limp, dried vines.

Even the mighty trees that were the foundation of the gardens suffered. The sprawling oaks, the lustrous maples, the swaying willows all rotted like the rinds of jack-o-lanterns after Halloween. Even my prized plum tree became a decrepit black shell of what it once was.

I cannot express the sorrow or fear Hinamori and I felt during this time. Our haven became a wasteland before our eyes. The days grew cold and sky was bleached into the blank, harsh white of bones. It was so bright that whenever I looked up tears filled my eyes. The same happened to Hinamori, but for a very different reason.

"That is the white of a Hollow," she would say to me as tears dripped down her face. I knew that she was thinking of her duties and how she was neglecting them. I knew she was thinking of Aizen and his control over the monsters we battled. Perhaps she even feared that her grief was turning her into one. I have no way of knowing what deluded thoughts were going through her mind in moments like these.

Slowly, I helped soothe her out of her depression. Now I understood why she loved the way she did, because if I had been alone in helping her then Hinamori and I surely would have died from heartsickness. But we had the friends, the true friends, to aid us in our time of need. Hitsuigia Toshiro, Rangiku Matsumoto, Izuru Kira, Abarai Renji; all those who grew to love Hinamori as she loved them. Their worry and their care were the rains that colored the bleached sky purple and nurtured the garden below. Slowly the grass grew green again, the flowers bloomed, the trees became healthy. Although I hated rain because it was water, because it left me lethargic and weak, and because, let's face it, I don't like getting my hair wet, I was glad for it. I was glad to see Hinamori healing.

But I noticed a brick wall forming around the leagues and leagues of gardens. It was elegant and clean like everything else in Hinamori's world, but I saw it for what it truly was. It was a defense, not around her inner world, but around her heart. Hinamori had learned, at the most basic level, how to be shrewd. She had grown and I was proud of her.

Though the gardens are plentiful and breathtaking again, they still have not been restored to their full magnitude. The birds do not sing as cheerfully, the jasmine is not as fragrant, the moss on the roots of the trees is still not the vibrant shade of emerald I had come to know and love. While my beloved plum tree blossoms, it has still bore me no fruit.

I had always regarded Hinamori's childish ways as a flaw in her character. Now, as I examine the extravagant wall she has constructed to fortify our gardens I realize that it is thicker than I had originally thought, and it is made of tough brick. I begin to miss Hinamori's niativity. I understand that it was not a flaw in her character at all; it was what made everyone love her so. I see now that Hinamori was not the one who was flawed.

As I look up at the new addition to our gardens, I swear to myself that one day I will see it crumble into dust.