EDIT!!: I'm currently reworking/editing /all/ the chapters of this story in preparation of finishing the outline... which i hope will be sooner as i have most of the plot holes filled in my head! (grins)... so, i has finished this one... there will be some obvious diffs in the convo with matsumoto (who i feel i butcher in this fic, the poor dear), and some sentence structuring differences in the first half... otherwise, the second half is essentially the same, with some minor typo fixes... hopefully this workthrough won't take too long and i'll be back on track with this fic... (sweatdrops) anyway, now you all know i'm still alive and i'm coming back!! (celebrates) hope you enjoy and even more, hope you can review! tell me if it's better now... lol. though if you've already reviewed the old version, i don't think you can again. ah well, any feedback would be welcome. thanks muchly and i'm off to work on chapter two!

Chapter One Reflections of the Past

Hitsugaya cursed silently to himself. He cursed that horrible inability to control himself that had caused this mess in the first place. He could easily tell by glancing at Unohana-Taichou's face that she was aware of his secret. Truthfully, it wasn't an excessively hidden secret, but he still preferred that he be the only one aware of its existence. But now, she knew and was determined that he act. She had asked quite clearly. Why did he not speak to Hinamori-fukutaichou? Why did he wait, when she so obviously was waiting for a reason to wake up? He was fractionally confused as to how she did not understand that however. It was as painstakingly obvious as the fact that she knew his deepest thought. Why didn't he speak to Hinamori?

That was easy. Hinamori wasn't looking to him. She was trapped in her own mind and searching for a way out, a reason to emerge from her protective shell. The problem was that she wasn't searching for Hitsugaya at all, whether as a taichou or a childhood friend. She was looking for Aizen. The knowledge ate away inside him. She had loved Aizen, purely and utterly, and now was reaching deep in her own soul for a reason to go on living. She needed to know why she was betrayed, but she wasn't going to get it. So without Aizen, she gave up hope. She wanted Aizen to give her her reason. Hitsugaya was his murderer, a villain. How could his words ever reach her?

After all he had done, he knew it was unfair. From the very first, he had always protected her. He had encouraged her and pushed her towards what she wanted. She had no idea how much he had gone through for her. His dedication was unquestionable, and, until now, untraceable. Now she knew. Unohana-Taichou knew that Hitsugaya protected her. She probably knew that he loved that idiotic Hinamori. How could she have fallen for that Aizen! But he knew that too. Aizen was easily everything Hitsugaya was not. She had told him of their first meeting so many times. How he had saved her from the Huge Hollows. How he had been so gentle, telling her how strong she was. Hitsugaya had listened, as he always had, and hated the man from the very beginning.

He paced back and forth in his office. That was his problem lately. He simply couldn't focus on a single topic. His mind followed disjointed ramblings that all led back to Hinamori. His gift and his curse. He blessed the day she found him as the day his whole life had turned upside down. He cursed the day she met Aizen. That was the day she left him for good. He had failed her. Failed her utterly. Little she knew how much he loved her. The naive little fool! Yet he still wasn't sure if he meant Hinamori or himself. He closed his eyes tightly against the pain. A mistake. He saw her again in his mind, her life ebbing away as swiftly as the blood pouring from her side. He saw her body splayed on the hardwood floors, her eyes wide and dull, her blood pooling outward. In that instant, his heart had broken and his mind had snapped. Looking back, he couldn't even clearly recall the next few minutes. Unohana-Taichou said that wasn't surprising, considering his injuries, but he knew better.

The minute he saw her dying on the floor, he had died inside. And in turn, his spirit had lost control completely, subject to the grip of Hyourinmaru's rage. He had died inside, and all because he loved her. Because he had failed to protect her. He had failed to avenge her. He died simply because he couldn't live without her. How could he ever look her in the face again? All he remembered was the blur of icy rage, the spray of blood and Aizen's arrogance. His clearest memory was of lying on the ground, his consciousness slowly fading. He had realized that this was what had defeated him. He had wanted to die without her, so he fought to ensure that he would. He almost wished he had succeeded.

The door creaked open and he looked up dully, only just realizing he was kneeling on the floor, staring at the opening fusuma in bemusement. It was Matsumoto. "Taichou?" she asked uncertainly. She was surprised to him sitting there, in a position consumed with emotion. He stood up without responding to her query.

"Yes, Matsumoto?"

"I had some extra paperwork from the fifth division to deliver..." Her voice trailed off uncertainly.

"Thank you. I'll deal with it in the morning." He walked over and removed the papers from her hesitant hands.

"Are you all right, Taichou?"

He looked at her steadily, his expression revealing nothing. He paused for some time, deciding carefully how to answer. "I'm fine, Matsumoto."

She stared at him, gaze piercing. Unreasonably, he felt as if she was analyzing his insides, as if she could read anything and everything in his mind. Trying to decide whether or not he was lying, no doubt. "Then why do you have such large, dark marks beneath your eyes?" She waggled her eyebrows teasingly. He was not amused.

"I don't have time for this, Matsumoto. I have to get to sleep now in order to have enough hours in the day to finish all this extra paperwork."

She rolled her eyes at him. "You do not. You don't expect me to buy that totally implausible lie, do you? Especially when you consider you spent last night watching over Hinamori when you didn't think anyone was watching." Her eyes were accusatory, suddenly serious. "And several of the nights before it.

He flinched inwardly, rather shocked to know she had seen him. His external control was perfect however and his voice was perfectly calm. "Go to sleep, Matsumoto." He sighed. "You don't need to follow me around at nights. You need your rest as well."

"Why won't you talk about it, Taichou? About what happened? I know it's not very you-like, but you ought to talk to someone."

"Because there's nothing to discuss. And I dislike talking. You know that. It's why you spend the day filling silence with chatter." It was his eyes that told her he was finished with the dialogue. Unequivocally. She retreated, a tad bit stung by his refusal and more worried than her slightly light-hearted banter indicated about her Taichou.

He knew where he was going before he exited the doorway. He didn't think about his destination, it was simply automatic. The only source of inspiration he had ever possessed, the only treasure he had ever valued was Hinamori.

Hitsugaya was known among the Gotei 13 as the boy genius. The prodigy. He was by far the youngest captain in centuries. He knew the only person who could come close to understanding why was the ryoka boy, Ichigo. All he needed was the motivation. The proper inspiration.

Since his entrance into Rukongai about fifty years prior, he had known he was different. He had sensed inside a duality to himself. It was as if an entirely (yet not wholly) separate entity lived inside his own mind and understood his thoughts. It even seemed to possess a personality all to itself. Additionally, he was constantly hungry and it was only later that he realized this was unusual compared to the other konpaku. He didn't understand himself, which he found confusing. He kept this knowledge locked inside, knowing how it would seem to others. It was his first conscious act of control over his own personality. It was the first of many. It had not taken long to understand himself. He needed, craved his personal privacy. To that end, his emotions, his motivations and his thoughts were no one else's business. Therefore, it was important to rein himself in at times in order to avoid revealing too much.

His inner personality was always silent. It never spoke, never asserted itself and never acknowledged its identity. He knew it was there, however. It whispered in his mind unintelligible murmurs at random moments, the hissing voice distracting his hearing and focus. He also felt flashes of mood, of some unfulfilled dream or desire yearning deep within himself. Sometimes it was an exultant euphoria, and others it might be some terrifying anger. He didn't understand the motivations for the emotions, but he knew they were not his own and that he felt them to a lesser degree than his inner counterpart. He burned with curiosity to discover what these odd signs might mean. He wanted to know why they were there, what they meant about him. Somehow though, he had managed to shelve his intense frustrations in that area.

He started the day he met Hinamori. The first time he looked into her eyes and admired the curves of her face, he knew he was lost. He knew inexplicably and incontrovertibly that he would be there for her forever. His life would be meaningless without her. Then she had smiled at him and he had felt unaccountably conspicuous. He had looked away, confused by his reactions to her and rather gruff as a result. Instead of being offended by him, she found his tendency to push her away endearing. After meeting her, his center, he had no desire to pursue his other goals. He knew that discovering his other aspect would mean leaving her behind, so he ignored it. He pushed all of those thoughts to the back of his mind because he wanted to stay with her.

He basked in her beautiful innocence and lived on her sheer joy. She never knew how he felt and he preferred it that way. Outwardly, he treated her with a rather brusque detachment that she seemed to find amusing, as if she could see through the shell he presented. He devoutly hoped she could not, but somehow, Hinamori had always seemed to understand him better than he understood himself. She never misunderstood his sarcasm and she always knew when to comfort and when to offer privacy. What she had never understood was his need to protect her. Her image of who he was in relation to her was always connected to a little boy spitting watermelon seeds. At the very least her insistence on referring to him as "Shiro-chan" was proof enough of that.

And then she had had the gall to leave him. He put his whole life away for her, completely unacknowledged while she discovered herself. She discovered her own shinigami powers and was suddenly filled with an overpowering drive to expand, train, learn and otherwise explore that area of her gifts. After he had purposely decided to put off, permanently if necessary, investigations into his dual nature for her, the callous abandonment she was completely unthinkable, not to mention a tad bit cruel. He had tried everything to convince her not to go, culminating in his informing that if she left, things could no longer be the same. She would change, he would change and neither would be able to treat the other the same as before. She was choosing to abandon him. She had glossed over his arguments, insisted on her own path and swished out the door knowing that he would accept whatever decision she made. And he had. After all, what other choices were left him?

But the same way that she understood him better than himself, he knew her. She was trusting and innocent. Despite knowing of evil in the world, she couldn't see it in people she had already chosen to trust. She loved completely and utterly in a way that struck him as beautiful and incredibly dangerous. All she had to do was misgive it once. How could he protect her from those who would take advantage of all she was if she was miles away, totally beyond his reach? But partly, he knew he was lying to himself.

Somehow, without knowing quite precisely how, he was inexplicably certain that following her, that following the path of the shinigami would lead him to his other self. And with Hinamori no longer around, there was nothing to keep that compulsion at bay. Finally the two forces within him both wanted the same thing. The same goals were present. Both following Hinamori and the pursuit of his inner self led to training as a shinigami. He held off on the decision for a couple of years, not wanting to follow right away. Her obsession with captains, and one in particular, grated heavily on his nerves. Aizen was getting the affection, the devotion, the hope and adoration that Hitsugaya craved from her. And Hitsugaya had been the one beside her, listening to her for all these years! He needed to get out of the little boy mold she had forced him into. To do that, he needed to wait for her to graduate first. He needed to grow up totally away from her so that when he saw her next, her image would be completely new and different. He knew instinctively that it would always be Aizen who was his rival, the one he needed to fight. Hinamori was not the type to change affections constantly and she had chosen Aizen.

Hitsugaya started suddenly, vaguely surprised. Already, he had arrived in Hinamori's sick room. Apparently, he had been too lost in reminisces to notice the journey at all. He was not surprised, however, to find himself standing next to her bed, gazing into her slumbering face. Her dreams were not good this night, that much was obvious. She wasn't moving or struggling, but he could see in the lines around her mouth and the squint of her eyes the endless worry she tried to suffer through. He wished she would wake up. Of course, that would deprive him of these sleepless nights of watching her, but in some ways, the benefits would be worth it. There was no telling how she would react to consciousness however. Would the trauma of her experiences simply blot the memory from her mind? Would she be too insane with grief to cope? Would she still believe him to be Aizen's killer? Could her mind possibly snap beyond comprehension? Or could she possibly realize what scum Aizen had been and actually move through her betrayal? That last was probably too much to hope for. His best guess was some combination of all of them and hopefully mostly that last choice.

He had long ago memorized the burnished shine of her hair in moonlight, the pale glow of her skin in the dim lighting. He knew every curve of her face, the way her body was slowly losing definition as she continued without eating. She had stopped when Aizen "died" and very little nutrition had been gained during her current unconscious state. He was worried about her gradually decreasing ability to survive like this. He said nothing, simply gazed at the only person, the only soul his heart was dedicated to, as if this reality were less real than his memories. His fists clenched and unclenched spasmodically, his mind remembering her smile but his eyes seeing her downcast frown.

Hinamori stirred vaguely, moaning unpleasantly. Her lips murmured quiet whispers he couldn't quite distinguish, despite his straining ears. He would give anything to know where her thoughts were drifting. Any hint as to how she would react upon waking.

He sat down in a chair next to the bed and shyly slipped his hand in hers. Her skin was light and slightly scabbed, and partially rough in texture. It was warm and fitted to his own palm in a way that his mind could only describe as intensely perfect. He couldn't quite understand why he was breaking his own advice by this interaction but his mind was currently ignoring that tidbit of common sense. Part of him whispered, She's waiting for Aizen. Why are you confusing her with the wrong hand? The other part answered impatiently, Shh! Her hand is in mine the way it's meant to be. This is important. Though he couldn't have answered why such a thing would be important. The words poured from his mouth before his mind had realized its individuality.

"Hinamori. Don't give up. Don't let one person destroy you. Come back and rediscover who you are. Decide what truly matters. But don't let it end in your defeat. Put up your own counterattack." He half-smiled to himself. How could he have thought she'd do otherwise? Overwhelmed with grief, she still picked up her sword, controlled her reiatsu, and quite seriously prepared to take on a captain in battle! His Hinamori would never lay down and take such a response. It was only a matter of time. But still...

He had never believed that she would doubt him either. He had never believed that she might turn on him on the word of even beloved Aizen. Him, her Shiro-chan. The person she'd known the longest. The one person she should never have had to doubt. He sighed. He couldn't help but worry about her. It was his favorite hobby and a nightly ritual. He had a feeling if he tried to stop, he'd just have that much more trouble trying to sleep then he did now, when he worried all night.

He released her hand and stood to leave. The later the hour, the greater the chance he would be found. It was far too close to morning. Her turned, striding towards the door when he heard a hacking cough from the bed behind him. He whipped around, staring transfixed at the bed. He had never imagined...

Hinamori had her hand raised in a fist to meet her series of coughs and her eyes squinted shut more with each cough-induced shudder. The fit didn't last long and her hand slid back to her side. Her eyes blinked open and riveted on Hitsugaya's still form in the doorway. Her eyes widened just a little. "Hitsugaya-kun?" She shook her head to clear her muddled thoughts and her memories returned with a frightening jolt. "Hitsugaya-kun!" she exclaimed, angrier this time. "Why are you...? Why are you?"

Hitsugaya stared blankly at her, still in a state of disbelief. The mental part of him was clicking into high gear, realizing very quickly that this was going much worse than he supposed it might. His emotions were having a much harder time of piecing everything together.

"You're awake," he blurted somewhat obviously and still very much unsure.

"Yes, I think both of us can see that," was her irate reply. "Why are you here when Aizen-Taichou..." Her voice drifted off into sudden silence and he knew she was remembering the stabbing. The moment when she must have realized all the hopes and beliefs she'd sustained were falsely betrayed. Tears welled up in her eyes but they did not spill over. "GET OUT!" she shouted at him.