Chapter 2 Sword Wounds

A/N: Hitsugaya x Hinamori. Sword wounds that don't heal.

Disclaimer: Bleach doesn't belong to me.

Sorry for any gramatical/factual errors.

Paperwork was piling up. It had now reached to such a ridiculous height that Rangiku could no longer see her taichou's silver-white hair above the neatly stacked pile. One of it was tilted dangerously, threatening to tip over and spill to the floor.

"Ne, taichou,"

She heard him give a grunt in reply. A hand appeared above the pile. "Matsumoto, get me an ink block."

She got up from the couch and took the necessary item from the supply cupboard. She heard him grate the ink and continued writing. "…You don't have to do this, you know."

"Be quiet, Matsumoto," Came Hitsugaya's bored drawl and his arm came up again, holding out a sheaf of papers. "Make yourself useful and deliver this to the eighth division. And while you're at it, stop by the fifth and get me their training schedule, will you?"

Rangiku sighed. "You'll work yourself to death, taichou."

"And you'll be whooping for joy," Came his sarcastic reply. "No, I won't give you that satisfaction."

"You're not that charitable, I see," Rangiku took the papers and sashayed out of the office. "Want some dango?"

"No," He grunted and the mountain of paperwork receded slightly.

Rangiku finished her deliveries but stopped at the fourth division HQ. It was peaceful, the chaotic period that extended well beyond the Aizen episode finally stopped. Isane greeted her at the main hall. "Rangiku? Are you ill or something?"

"Ah, no," Rangiku laughed sheepishly. "I just came to visit Hinamori."

Oh," Isane's expression softened. "Go right ahead then. Taichou had just finished her daily checkup."

"…is she waking up?"

Isane sadly looked away. "Unohana-taichou says that's up to her… if she wants to wake up…or not."

Rangiku nodded and continued to the critical care wing. Most of the rooms were empty now, save for one. And to her surprise, Hinamori had a visitor.

Shadowed in the pale afternoon sunlight, his slight figure drooping, Hitsugaya looked old. Sadness and fatigue marred his young face, pain lurked in his eyes. Every inch of him bespoke suffering.

"…Matsumoto."

Lord, even his voice had lost his edge. How could being in the presence of Hinamori's corpse-like being change him so much? She bit her lip and took a step backwards. "I'm sorry, taichou. I didn't know…I didn't know you were here."

Hitsugaya continued to stare at Hinamori's still form. "I can still see her," he said so softly that Rangiku strained to hear. "I can still see her lying in her own blood."

"She won't wake up," He continued bitterly. "She's given up everything…she's lost hope in life. Everything she had ever believed in was a lie, everything that held her up till the end shattered when Aizen stabbed her with his blade." His fists clenched painfully. "Hinamori…"

Rangiku decided it was wise to leave her captain alone now. For all his greatness, Hitsugaya was still a child, and a child sometimes needs to cry.

Alone.

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