As he walked into the chamber, it was almost as if he knew exactly what he would find. The sight before him, though he should certainly have reacted heavily, only made his eyes widen as he looked at the body of his dead friend, she who he had tried to valiantly to protect.
"You're too late," a booming voice said, so familiar and yet far too sinister to be who he thought it was…
Aizen was then behind him, and he spun, facing an insane grin. The glasses were gone and his hair was slicked back and oh, god, Hinamori's blood was hitting his feet, warm and cooling so fast and she was dead, wasn't she?
She couldn't be saved.
He didn't save her in time.
And by the looks of the blade that seemed to be falling in slow motion, he was next.
Just as the blade connected with his head, what should've been a starburst of pain was a lunge as Hitsugaya woke up tangled in his bed sheets and heart racing a mile a minute. Hinamori. She was… she was…
She was alive. He sought out her reiatsu frantically and only calmed when he felt it, holding onto it like a lifeline.
His recurring dream should have been anything but motivation to kill Aizen, but that was what it came down to. He would regret the day he let so much as a tear fall from Hinamori's fair face.