AN:Like whoa this was a hard chapter for me to write. First of all I had to figure a way to follow the last chapter (which admittedly was hard!) and second I had to find a way to give you all some information that would probably be a bit boring; aka: insight into Hitsugaya's mental self. So yes, its one of those necessary chapters… that I would cheerfully spork for each of you.

The good news is that I have a new Beta! Everyone wave and lay offering to Brittney because she took the time and effort to go over these 13 pages! And I am not entirely sure I would have made it through this chapter without her!

So without further delay! The chapter!

Chapter Five

It was late, enough so that he was no longer certain of the time, as the midnight call had gone up long ago. It had been even longer since he had given up the idea of sleep and thrown back the light covering he slept under in a mixture of disgust and frustration. He had padded across his room and into the living area to rest upon the window seat that had been calling his name since had first tried to find some sort of rest once Unohana had kicked him out of Hinamori's room and sent him on his way some hours ago.

He was restless.

His felt his lips twist into an amused half-smile. The previous captain of the tenth division had put in a large window because he enjoyed the sight of nature at all hours of the day. Yet the only time that the window served him any purpose was at night, or in the middle of winter when the world was covered in a blanket of white. The rest of the time long white curtains covered the large window, hiding his private retreat from the world.

Tonight he had left the curtains free and the window open and through it the cold air was washing over him with each stir of the night. It was helping to sooth the raw nerves that were still pulsing with each beat of his blood. Winter was coming, but even that knowledge did not dispel the haze that had settled around him.

He loathed this weakness.

His inability to move past the emotion-driven day, his failure to gauge Hinamori's movements, this was a weakness that still clawed at him. He should have guessed her movements, anticipated her need to understand; he who knew the Hinamori of old better than any other should her have been able to look past his own confusion and despair at her plight and guessed her intentions.

He was furious, at himself and at Hinamori.

Angry because she had not trusted him, had forgotten that there was nothing that he would not do for her, for what they had been before she had betrayed herself and been betrayed. She had forgotten everything that had haunted him for the last two years; had ignored her friends, family, and people who would lay their lives down for her; and had ignored everything that she had built in the years before the war.

She had forgotten who she was.

She had forgotten what he would do for her, what he would become, and what he had become for her.

He could not stop the anger that flared with that understanding, did not want to stop the fury that rose from the deepest part of him. He could feel it rolling through him in dangerous waves that would either rise up and fuel his determination to help her find herself or destroy them both.

He had felt it growing with each movement and word that she spoke or made in an effort to chase him away, to hide from the reality of the world that she had woken to. He could only wonder if she would shy away from the reality of the truth that had been reveled to her today. For both their sakes he hoped that she would not, that she would fight her urge to deny everything and learn how to heal.

And yet so much of that anger he directed at himself. He could have prevented her from running this evening, from hiding. He could have gone against them all and told them to tell her the truth. That her captain had died, that she was no longer part of the fifth division and that Renji was the captain who resided in Aizen's office now.

That the world she had once known was gone.

But would it have been worth it? He would never know now. He had trusted Unohana, he still trusted Unohana. It was the trust that he had once held in himself that was under fire. He was too involved in this situation. What little emotion he was willing to show to the world was wrapped tightly around the small vice-captain. What he hid from even himself and what should have only answered to him and Hyourinmaru, instead answered to her alone.

He would not be able to contain the monster that was slowly growing if she refused to see the truth. He was lost, floundering in a sea of uncertainty that he couldn't seem to find his way out of.

He didn't know how to react or how to handle the knowledge that even now, after everything that had happened, the parts of him that he had long ago closed off burned just as brightly for her as they ever had. It had been to long since he had felt anything but the burning need for revenge. The ice that resided so deeply within him had long ago consumed what small spark of emotion he had held before the war.

She had been awake for less than a month and she had already brought that spark roaring to the fore and sent his frozen walls crashing down; propelled carefully won control to the wind on icy shards that no longer answered his summons. He was locked in a mad scramble to find a balance but she was giving him no room to breath, no time to pull himself together and find the icy depths of his soul and pull it around himself. He was missing the walls that had protected him during the war, shields that had kept him sane during a time of hatred and need for revenge. He grasped for the edges desperately but the faster he reached the faster they slipped away.

It floored him.

He had seen the look in her eyes, the realization and the knowledge that everything would change. It had shone clearly in that broken gaze of hers. Behind the grief, the pain, the anger, and desperation, there had been understanding.

And with that the chest of emotions he had locked away had opened and spilled forth.

Possession? Determination? Comfort? Rage?

He knew that some part of him had always claimed her as his, claimed her smiles, her laughter, and her innocence as something to be treasured by him and him alone. It was a side that he had carefully kept hidden from the world, something that would be seen as a weakness. Her vulnerability had brought it streaking to the fore in hard fast waves that had confused him even as he embraced it.

Her tears had brought forth an emotion that had become alien to him during the course of the war, where anything but cold detachment would bring you down long before the sword of the enemy would. And yet, when her anguish and pain had reached forward, the need to comfort her had risen as surely as his need to defend her and this other nameless emotion he could only start to place a title on.

He closed his eyes, suddenly weary. The mantle of captain was riding his shoulders like a lead weight, something he had not felt since the war. He would push himself as far as he could, would tap into every resource he owned for her. The wind blew strongly and the curtains flared beside him. Anything she requested of him.

For as long as he felt the anger that burned brightly in him, for his own forgetfulness and his own misunderstanding he would be whatever she needed. For in the long run it was he who had forgotten what the war had taught him about himself. He had sworn that he would not fail her again. He had gained the revenge that she would need to heal, but he had forgotten so much else, had forgotten the things that had always made Hinamori his.

He opened his eyes and gazed in determination at the still cloudy night sky. He would give her what she needed, be that time, space, or a strong arm to help her stand. He had failed her twice: his inability to protect her from Aizen and now his inability to give her the answers she so desperately needed.

And while his heart beat in determination and he could feel Hyourinmaru strengthening that drive to protect, he wondered if perhaps he would fail her again.

He stood as the sun came peeking over the tops of the nearby buildings; today was a day of practice and trail for his division. If he was going to meet that challenge he needed to prepare. It would be a long day if he did not manage to gather his thoughts before he took his place in front of the men and women who made up his division, a long day indeed.

He would have to trust Matsumoto to deal with Hinamori today.

-----

Working with swords was an intricate dance that required agility, strength, knowledge, and patience. It was something that either came naturally to a person or you worked hard and long to master the skills that were needed to survive in their world.

Sword play had come easily to him; the intricate flow and dance, give and take had become as natural as breathing to him once Hyourinmaru had reveled himself. It had become a second nature to him and for years he had reveled in the knowledge that he could control the tempo of a battle and that no foe could stand before him with the hope to prevail. And then Aizen had come with his falsehoods and gentle speeches of war and dominion and he had learned that the sword brought other things besides justice and balance. It brought death, blood, and hatred.

And yet it had also taught him that there was more to a battle than self-control and the ability to read the enemy in front of you. That the blood and sweat that one spilled was far more valuable than knowing complicated kata's and having the swifter sword. There was more to their world than preventing the next hollow attack.

He cast a critical eye over the troops that were moving in a slow rhythm together as they warmed their cold muscles. He cast a disapproving eye on some who were not giving their work the proper attention and a thoughtful look on those who had obviously been training themselves above and beyond his requirements. Good, they had learned something from the wars then.

But they were behind schedule for the morning and that was making him irritable. He had gone out early that morning when an emergency call had been issued. A group of the recruits had gotten themselves into a tangle with a pair of hollows that they could not handle. As the captain on duty, he had taken time from the scheduled training that morning in order to assist them. It had taken time that he had not been willing to grant.

And so now they were just reaching the halfway point of the program that he had set up for the day. A program that would keep him wrapped up and away from keeping an eye on Hinamori and Matsumoto's schemes and dealings as they moved Hinamori's things from the fifth division to her new quarters beside Matsumoto. He trusted Matsumoto but Hinamori had worn herself out yesterday and no amount of casual comments and assurances from those involved had assured him that she would physically be able to handle the demands such a move would place on her.

He turned a careful back to his division and nodded in satisfaction at the smoothness of their motions and sweat that was pooling on their brows. They were warm, which meant that it was time to move onto the next level of the kata they were practicing. He cast a glare at the sun, and it seemed that perhaps he would not finish in time to check in with Matsumoto and see for himself how things were being handled.

As he shifted his stance the men and women in front of him slid into position, understanding through years of training what was coming. Those who did not followed the others' example. This was how he taught the kata's to such a large group. He gave orders for them to split up by rank, so that those with less skill would stand between those who the abilities needed to complete the kata's flawlessly. He slid Hyourinmaru through the air in a neat procession and watched with satisfaction as the rows in front of him followed his movements.

Training day was both the day he hated the most and a day he enjoyed. A double whammy of a moment that normally left him feeling satisfied that his division was not going to kill itself and filled with sorrow that some day soon he might just very well have to send them out and have none of them return. The war had taught them the vast importance of insuring that every member of each division was given ample opportunity to train and to teach.

To teach because each member of each division had a different experience when they were faced with life and death, to fight and kill or be killed. In those moments, things were often revealed to some that were not shown to others. New skills were learned as the ability to turn a blade away was grasped or how to dodge a particular strike came to mind. When one was facing imminent death, knowing someone else's trick on how to duck or having combined several to form your own new skill could be the difference between an endless sleep and waking the next morning.

It was something he encouraged within his division and a part of each training day was set aside so that after the sparring if someone had learned a new trick or wished to test themselves against his own sword to see if an idea would stand up, he let them.

Today, where he normally offered them patience and a calm sword, he was agitated, irritable, and it reflected back at him in the eyes of those before him. He reeled in his temper, ignoring the impatience that was churning through him. He was tense, but he would not let that affect his division's ability to perform, to battle their way back from the dark depths of defeat and despair. He was their captain and he would shoulder that mantle today, even if it meant that he was to be kept from the one place he wished to be above all others. He would trust Matsumoto to handle it.

He let his sword continue in a smooth pattern and watched as many of them with a critical eye as he could. Matsumoto would have normally been with him, moving through the ranks, correcting a foot, or showing someone at a much slower pace. He would have to make do without her today.

He kept the indecision tightly reigned in so that it did not take hold of his countenance. But the rhythmic motions and terse commands were doing nothing to help him control the edginess that had been building for most of the morning, an edginess that only grew at the idea of taking Hinamori from her comfort zone in the fifth division and plunging her into his ranks.

He agreed completely with Unohana that this was the best course of action for Hinamori. That and having her closer meant that he would be able to keep a better watch over the girl. And yet he could not settle the uneasy feeling that continued to build.

Again, the same repetition of stances and blocks, the movements had long ago been ingrained into the depths of his muscles so that each move took no thought and each pass of Hyourinmaru was effortless. He needed the mindlessness of it, the endless rhythm and circling for his mind was not with him this day. He cast glares at those who were not paying the proper amount of attention to his motions and explanations, things that he no longer needed to listen to. He had spoken the commands enough that he could afford to let his mind wander, but that excuse would not suffice for those in front of him.

But wander his mind did.

Hinamori was now completely under his care. Earlier that morning the last of the papers had been sighed, by him and Renji, and Hinamori was now officially in his division. She was listed as the third seated member but in reality there was an unspoken acknowledgement that she was to spend as much time recovering as she needed. Therefore, nothing had really changed in the dynamics of his world and for now he would not need to worry about finding a way to keep her duties to a minimal. Matsumoto would ensure that she was kept busy working as her aid, but nothing more for now.

And yet, for her, everything was changing and that was contributing to the tense silence that was surrounding them all.

The tenth division and the fifth division differed in a lot of their ways. For one, he was nowhere near as laid back with the men and women under his command as Aizen had been. He demanded a certain level of ability and willingness to learn from his recruits and from his seated members and he expected a willingness to teach those lower and the ability to operate on many levels at once. He was not worried that Hinamori would not be able to meet his demands; what worried him was her ability to adjust to the schedule, the work, and differences that made up each division.

He sighed and forced himself to concentrate on those standing in front of him. There was simply nothing he could offer Hinamori or his vice-captain as of right then. He would lose himself in the rhythm of the sword, in the call of Hyourinmaru and he would dance with those in front of him.

Intricate movements as old as time would take root in his world, would again teach him calm, quiet, and how to block everything from him but his goal. He would cast his feet on the ground, but he would not be bound to it. Even if it took him a lifetime to reach the peak of this mountain that rose so strongly in front of him, he would best it. He was a dragon, Hyourinmaru shimmered briefly in his hand for the first time in weeks, and he felt his lips quirk in a half-smile. He would not be defeated so easily by the unrest and disquiet that held him in an iron grasp.

He turned his full attention to his troops for the first time that afternoon, the ice and peace that so often came with Hyourinmaru's unleashed presence calming him. Each flick of his wrist was mirrored, each stance copied, his soft chants and each movement followed to the highest level of detail and attention. He watched in approval as they to slowly became lost in the rhythm and beauty of their deadly dance.

Perhaps this afternoon would not be as long as he had thought it would. He nodded his approval at one of the recruits at the front when she performed the complicated kata with a flawless ease that spoke of long hours of practice. She smiled quickly before redoubling her efforts.

He slipped into the next phase of their early morning work and turned his back on his division, trusting them to follow his lead.

Perhaps not that long at all.

Some hours later he wiped the back of his hand against his sweaty brow and nodded at the man who was now picking himself off the ground, a sheepish expression on his face, before he picked up his soul cutter.

"Again," Hitsugaya said, his words cutting through the silence that had greeted the man's request to test a new idea of his. Indecision slid through the man as clear as day. Hitsugaya was by far the better swordsman but the idea was a good one, it just needed to be tweaked.

"Again," he repeated.

The man came at him and Hitsugaya slid right before bringing Hyourinmaru up to block his strike. The man slid into his defense position and Hyourinmaru countered swiftly before feinting one direction and with the same speed moving in other. Moments later the man was on his back staring back up at him. He nodded in approval.

"You were faster that time, again." They repeated the motion several times before the man understood how to block the movements that were sending him to the ground. By the end of it the man was sweaty, red in the face, and obviously weary, but there was a large smile of understanding on his face.

"Thank you, Captain," he said, bowing.

Hitsugaya returned the courtesy with a half-bow of his own before turning towards those who had lingered to see the outcome of the impromptu lesson.

"Anyone else?"

A few shook their heads while the rest remained silent. He waved his hand, dismissing them.

"Finish out your daily duties and you are done for the day." His words were greeting with small, tired cheers and smiles. He sheathed Hyourinmaru and headed for his rooms. The sun would set in an hour or so and he needed a bath desperately.

Thirty minutes later he was blessedly clean. The hot water had done wonders to help him fight off the weariness that a day with a sword in his hand had brought, and Matsumoto had left him some cold cuts of meat that had easily been made into a dinner of several sandwiches.

The sun was setting neatly against the backdrop of the buildings around him when he finally made it to Matsumoto's room. She and Hinamori were settled over plates of food and talking in low tones when he arrived. Matsumoto looked up in slight surprise when his tall shadow filled the room before relaxing. Hinamori looked up at him in confusion before a hesitant smile lifted the corners of her lips.

He felt his own smile start in the depth of his stomach and slowly start to slide its way upward before he caught it. He offered her a half-smile in return. She dropped her eyes and he moved into the room.

"Have a productive day?" he questioned, one brow rising at the obvious signs of weariness on both of their faces. Hinamori looked like she was ready to keel over, he realized, shooting Matsumoto a concerned look. Even with the care the fourth division had been giving her, she was still much weaker than he would have liked. And while he was certain Matsumoto would have kept her work to a minimum, it would not take much to wear the small woman out. He was surprised she was not already in bed somewhere sleeping.

Matsumoto nodded at him while idly pouring herself another cup of sake. "Yes, we were able to recruit a bit of help and some of the large and smalls things have successfully been moved," she said, her tone weary, before she downed the glass in one go. "Hinamori is a lover of stuff."

The girl in question made a small face, her expression guarded behind the weariness.

"You have more stuff than I do," she muttered, her voice not carrying the heated tone that would have once graced her voice. He exchanged a glance with Matsumoto once her attention was back on the food in front of her, small smiles sliding briefly across their features.

"You are a pack rat," the blond woman sniffed in return.

Hitsugaya quirked a brow at the two of them. "Do you need anything else tomorrow?"

"There is still a couch, bookcase, and some other god-awfully huge piece of furniture that we did not get moved today," Matsumoto counted off on her fingers. "And some boxes that were just too heavy to bother with by the time we got to them." She shot him an exasperated look. "She has lots of stuff."

He nodded. "I will round up some volunteers and we can get the rest of it moved tomorrow."

Hinamori's eyes widened at his words before she ducked her head to hide whatever else she was thinking from them. Another glance with Matsumoto, full of unspoken words, and he wondered if perhaps she had not been quite as happy to see him as her small smile had offered. He quirked a brow at his vice-captain in question and she shook her head in answer. He would have to find out later then, he realized; neither woman would talk with the other in the room.

Perhaps Unohana, for once, was as wrong as the rest of them with her theories.

Hinamori looked up at him. "I received a missive from the first division to tell me that I had been transferred," her words were soft and he had to strain to here them. "Why?"

It took more willpower than he had known he contained not to look at Matsumoto and see the expression on her face. It would have provided all the warning he needed how to proceed, but with Hinamori looking at him with that lost expression he dared not.

"When you were in your coma I was giving guardianship over you, since your captain was not available." The truth, he would give her the truth.

Again, that hesitant expression he could not read. "Why was I transferred?"

"Now that you are awake it was agreed that I would maintain guardianship until you were strong enough to take back your vice-captainship." She was watching him carefully, her brown eyes guarded, her expression as bland as he had ever seen it.

"Who is the vice-captain of the fifth division?"

It was then that he understood what he could not ask his vice-captain. Being transferred could mean so many things: the captain did not feel that you were in the right place, you were considered incompetent or unstable, or sending you somewhere else meant that you had a chance of finding what you excelled at where you were not constantly clashing with your captain. When you were an upper seated division member it could mean the captain no longer had any use for you or that there were changes going to be made and he did not think you would adjust to those changes.

Hinamori could only assume the worst. That Renji did not want her as his vice-captain so he had sent her on her way or he thought that she would not adjust well. A blow to any one accustomed to being of high rank.

"As of right now, they have not replaced you. Renji is waiting for everyone to recover and start to get a semblance of themselves before he makes that decision or holds the trial." He watched as the spark that had been lingering so closely to the edge of her vision failed her. "It is also assumed that you will be taking back the mantle of vice-captain and so I believe there was a petition for him to wait until you were healed to hold the trials so that you could battle for your position."

Her eyes shot up from where they had been gazing intently at the patter on the table in the living room.

"If you are not ready in a few months, I have been told that as soon as you are ready you are free to challenge the vice-captain for your position back."

"Oh."

He watched as that information settled in and hoped that he given her something to work towards; if he had, it might speed her recovery. He frowned again at the look of exhaustion on her features before standing.

"What time would you like me to meet you in the morning?"

"Late," his vice-captain said instantly. "I refuse to rise before the sun tomorrow." He sent her a grateful look and she smiled in return.

He nodded. "I will have your volunteers there and waiting for you then about midmorning." This would give him the time he needed to work on the paperwork they had both neglected that day and give Hinamori time to recharge her energy levels.

Matsumoto made a face and downed another cup of sake. "Fine." She motioned for him to go and he nodded.

"I will see you in the morning then," he said, leaving them to their meal with a strange combination of emotions warring within him. He wanted nothing more to stay and ensure that Hinamori found her rest but he had the feeling that as long as he was there she would fight her weariness. For now he would leave it up to Matsumoto.

He let his fingers slid over the hilt of Hyourinmaru before closing his eyes with a sigh. Hinamori's half-smile played against the back of his eyelids. He wondered if he would get any rest this night.

"That is quite a weary expression for a Captain of the Gotei 13. Don't you think so, Nanao-chan?"

He turned, slamming his shields up quickly, barely managing to hide his surprise at the sight of Kyouraku Shunsui and his vice-captain Isane Nanao. The tall vice-captain offered her captain a look that Hitsugaya could not decipher, but he could read the expression on Shunsui's face. "Do you think some sake will cheer the good captain up, Nanao-chan?"

Nanao turned a considering look upon him and shook her head.

"Probably not," she said, her tone dry, at some unspoken acknowledgement between them. Hitsugaya was almost amused at how well they read each other and interacted, but he was finding it hard to be amused at anything these days.

"Have you eaten?" Shunsui questioned, tipping his large hat up so that he could look better at the man who had once been a boy shorter than himself; now they were practically eye-to-eye.

"Somewhat," he replied.

"Ukitake has asked us to see if you would like to join us for dinner."

One brow rose in slight surprise at the mention of the older captain before he nodded. Shunsui took it as the agreement that it was before turning and marching off resolutely.

"Come my Nanao-chan, we shall dine with fine company this night."

He felt amusement soothe the nerves that the sight of Hinamori had reopened at the sound of the lovely vice-captain grinding her teeth at her captain's words. It was a quiet walk to Ukitake's rooms, for which Hitsugaya was thankful. The nights were becoming chillier as winter quickly approached the Seireitei, and the part of him that would always belong to the ice and snow stirred in silent anticipation. It would not be long now.

The door was opened long before they reached the quarters of the quiet captain and Hitsugaya was not surprised to see that a large amount of food was out and waiting for them as they stepped through the large wooden doors and into the welcoming room.

Ukitake looked up from where he was seated next to the fire and smiled at them as they entered. "Ah you made it," he said in welcome. "I was wondering if I was perhaps going to have to dine alone this night."

Shunsui smiled out from under his hat. "With that much sake just lying around? Never fear my friend, I would not forsake you to such a fate."

Nanao rolled her eyes and settled in a graceful movement at the table. Instantly the males settled as well, though Hitsugaya knew it was from age-old protocol and manners that had the other two men settling, long years of ritual and practice guiding their movements when in the presence of a lady, even one known so well to them as Nanao Isane was. He followed suit, knowing he would feel awkward and gawky around the smooth and graceful men steeped in rich tradition as they were, but he welcome the normalcy of such feelings. For tonight he found himself craving that normalcy.

The dinner was a quiet affair with soft words passing between the three comrades, Hitsugaya listening with rapt attention to their light banter. He had eaten several times with them and knew well enough what they were offering, a night of companionship and easy banter instead of his own thoughts. It was a distraction he welcomed.

It was not until the fire was nothing but glowing embers and the sake was reduced to a simple jug that Shunsui was nursing happily that Ukitake turned serious eyes to him.

"Did Hinamori sustain any lasting damage during her night in the cold air?" he questioned.

Hitsugaya paused with his tea cup halfway to his mouth, tea that Nanao had kindly made for those who had no aspirations to drink the sake that Shunsui was consuming at an astonishing rate.

"She is well," he said, catching only a hint of the man's true question, his mind too fuzzy from the night of no sleep and day of hard work to play the careful word game that so often flowed between the captains.

"And you?"

He sat his cup of tea down gently before turning serious eyes on the man in front of him and sighing.

"It has been trying." It was strange, he realized, how one could sometimes read the emotion that flowed so easily from the blond man in front of him, while other times one was left grasping at straws and wondering if you truly understood him. Yet, tonight, even in his fuzzy state he could read the concern and worry that shone from the man, knowing as he did so only because Ukitake was letting him.

"It is never easy to help one you care about so far back from the edge as Hinamori as gone," Shunsui said before Ukitake could answer, his tone as serious as he had ever heard from the captain, a quiet reminder that there was more to the man than the sake and pretty vice-captain who kept him in line.

He nodded his agreement as Ukitake began to speak. "You have moved her in with Matsumoto?"

He nodded again. "Yes, Unohana suggested keeping her in constant company and Matsumoto thought it to be the best choice."

Again the nods from both of the men, while Nanao simply leaned back in her chair to listen, her dark eyes taking in the scene quietly. Hitsugaya was certain that she would later revel whatever conclusions she had reached to the men beside her. They were blessedly silent after their brief questioning and Hitsugaya took that opportunity to stand.

"Thank you for the meal," he told Ukitake, who stood as he did. He knew their intentions were good and that he would most likely seek their advice later on now that the door had been opened, but right now the wounds were still to fresh in his mind and his thoughts were too sluggish to analyze and explain the things he only half understood himself.

"Of course," the older man said with a smile as he walked him to the door. Out of the corner of his eye he watched as Shunsui leaned close to whisper to his vice-captain, who gave him a disgruntled look.

Ukitake laid his hand upon Hitsugaya's shoulder before he could walk out the door; he turned his attention back to the older captain.

"Give her the time she needs, Captain Hitsugaya," he said, his voice serious and low so as to not carry far. "But be careful that you do not step too far from her or she might slip away."

They two men watched each other for several long moments before Hitsugaya nodded in what he hoped was an understanding matter.

Apparently it was, for Ukitake nodded in return. "Do not hesitate to come by," he said, his voice cheerful once more. "You are always welcome around here."

Hitsugaya nodded his thanks once more before turning to begin the quiet walk back to his own rooms and perhaps to his own bed. He turned his gaze on the clear sky and high moon, feeling somewhat better than he had in a several days. Tomorrow they would finish transferring Hinamori into the tenth division's world and perhaps it would be the new start that they all needed to heal.