Title: The day Hinamori died

Rating: PG 13

Pairing / Characters: Hinamori Momo

Word Count: 501 words

Warnings: No spoilers I can imagine, just warnings for suicide

Summary: Hinamori finally takes her own life

A/N: The credit for this does not go to me. I may have wrote it but another's idea spawned it.

She had been planning it for weeks.

Once out of the coma, once she had learned of Aizen-taichou's cruel betrayal and subsequent defection to Hueco Mundo, of Hitsugaya-kun's terrible injuries – injuries he had sustained trying to defend her life – and of the other events that had taken place in her absence, the idea had been planted in her mind.

She would kill herself.

Unable to understand why her heart was still tied to her captain, unable to understand why she still believed Shirou-chan had betrayed her, Hinamori knew that the only way to free not just herself, but her childhood friend from the dark bonds that tied them both together, was to just end her life.

To no longer be.

To no longer suffer, as Aizen had clearly meant her to.

In the dark of the night, when she was alone, she fantasized about the many options that could spell out the end.

Poison, procured from the twelfth division's stores.

Rope, from the general supplies office.

Drugs of varying levels of strength, stolen from the fourth division.

In the end, none of them seemed effective enough.

When I die, she thought, I want my death to have some meaning to it. A symbol of the life I willingly tied myself to.

In the end, she simply lay on her bed, idly stroking the length of the scar that ran down her stomach. Even Unohana's skills had been unable to fully heal it. In some twisted way, Hinamori preferred it – a tangible reminder of the captain she loved and hated in equal parts.

Even at the end, Hinamori was never certain when or how the idea came to her. Perhaps she had dreamed it, like so many other things, perhaps it had always been uppermost in her mind and she had never noticed it. The scar on her stomach… she would open it with her zanpakutou, allow her blood to spill across the floor and let the last of her breath flow from her lungs…

It was remarkably easy, just how simply the scar opened beneath Tobiume. There was no pain at first, just a feeling she vaguely remembered from her childhood when she had picked at the scabs on her knees.

Skin, parting.

Her blood was warm, almost unbearably hot on her icy skin, and as she let her zanpakutou fall to the ground, Hinamori placed her hands on either side of the gash, watching dispassionately as blood stained them crimson. Another irony, Hinamori thought; my hands have been stained with blood since I became a fukutaichou.

But no more. She fell to her knees slowly, wrapping a bloody hand around Tobiume's hilt. Darkness was creeping in at the edge of her vision as her body fought to support itself in its dying throes.

Even as Hinamori surrendered herself to death, she found it in herself to laugh.

Aizen-taichou had never meant for her to live.

It was just typical that even in his absence, she was still obeying his wishes.