"Hinamori." She jerked at that soft voice. She coughed, wiping at her messy, wet face and looked up at Hitsugaya. His slender legs were bare; a large haori engulfed his slender frame. The sleeves were too long, coming way past his dainty hands, and the haori hem came to just below his knees. It was held in place by a pink scarf hastily tied into a messy sash. His thick, fluffy hair was in disheveled spikes. He had the I-was-just-torn-out-of-my-lover's-bed look. He wore Matsumoto's top and used her scarf as a sash to hold it closed.

His large turquoise eyes were a bright cerulean hue with an emotion she couldn't name. It wasn't the undying love she'd hoped for. This was the look you gave a whimpering puppy that had been kicked. "Go away, Shirou-chan." She turned her head away.

Hitsugaya frowned as he padded softly over to her then knelt down in front of his childhood friend. He'd always been there for her, and always would be. Even if he was exhausted with it. She took. She took and took and took until he couldn't give anymore. Not physically, but emotionally.

Still, he felt a responsibility to her. A long-suffering duty, like the paperwork that came along with the captain's cloak. She was older than him, physically, but he felt like her older brother. Someone who had to look out for her. She needed someone to, unlike Rangiku- she was strong. Her maturity, like her sanity, was highly questionable, but she could take care of herself.

"Hinamori, I'll always be here for you." His voice was flat- how many times must he prove it to her? "I understand you've been through alot, and are having trouble coping-"

Her head flew up, tear drops clinging to her lashes and watery, red-rimmed, brown eyes narrowed. "Don't patronize me, Toshirou!"

His hands tightened in the folds of Matsumoto's haori. "It's Hitsugaya-taichou." When had their relationship become so strained? When she began to serve under Aizen.

"Not to HER it isn't!" Hinamori spat the word out like a curse, and Hitsugaya stiffened. He wanted to defend Rangiku, but he couldn't bring himself to raise a hand or word against his little sister and best friend.

Hitsugaya stiffened, looking her square in the eye. "Rangiku is special to me. And I ask that you treat her with the respect she deserves."

Hinamori sat up a little straighter. Her tears had stopped, replaced by anger. She had to make Toshirou see the truth. Maybe he didn't know about Matsumoto's reputation, and she had to enlighten him. "You know she's been with other men. Many men."

Teal eyes narrowed, but she plunged on. Maybe she could salvage this, save him from himself. "Kuchiki-taichou."

He shrugged, the black collar slipping and revealing a pale, delicate shoulder. "She loves me." He stated simply.

"Abarai-fukutaichou."

"They're just friends. Drinking buddies."

"Izuru-fukutaichou."

A shrug. "I love her."

"Hisagi-fukutaichou."

Another shrug. "Again, meaningless, drunken one-night stand."

"That's been repeated multiple times."

He didn't look away. Contrary to her intentions, it was she who wavered, who broke first. Her resolution was crumbling. This last blow would wound even him. Hadn't she hurt him enough? No, she had to do this. For him. For them. For her own sake.

She raised her brown eyes to his aquamarine ones. "Ichimaru-taichou."

His small body didn't move- he didn't blink, twitch, or tense. But it was there. In his wonderful, beautiful, mesmerizing eyes. Their hues of blue and green shifted with his moods. He was a frosty little taichou, but everything- his moods, thoughts, feelings- were revealed in those captivating orbs. Right now, there was more green than blue. A light green tinged by dark blue- sea foam green with determination. "Matsumoto is with me now, and that's all that matters."

Hinamori flinched at his tone. It was final and brooked no argument. Tears sprang once more to her eyes. She sniffed, then buried her face in her hands.

Hitsugaya sighed. He knew, emotionally, she was still healing from Aizen- she would never get over her taichou. Even after she'd tried to kill him, he forgave her- he helped her. But what she wanted this time, he couldn't- wouldn't- give. "Hinamori, I'm sorry you had to find out about Matsumoto and I like that."

She shook her head. "B-but why her? I thought you'd wait for me."

Hitsugaya went to run his fingers through his tousled hair, then frowned when Matsumoto's too-long sleeves got in the way. Really, just how long were her arms? The covered his hands by a good several inches. He massaged his temples, fingertips covered by the black cloth. He didn't want to say it, didn't want to hurt her further. He wanted to let the fragile girl down gently, but she refused to take the hints. "What was between us died long ago."

"NO!" Her tears fell faster and her bony shoulders shook. "Shiro-chan! Aizen-sama's g-gone. It's just us again. We can-"

"No, we can't. You chose him, Hinamori. If he were to appear here, now, you'd go to him without a second's hesitation." They both knew it was true. She was trying to get over Aizen, but he would always be a part of her. Even if she didn't want him to.

"It's not true. I'm over him. Really! I'm- I'm me again. So we can go back to the way it used to be." Tears ran in steady streams down her cheeks.

"We'll never be that close again. That died when…it happened."