Disclaimer; I don't own Bleach. 'nuff said.
Maybe he had loved Kanisawa. Maybe she had simply been helpful at some point in time.
He no longer remembered.
He couldn't even really remember Aoga's face.
Then again, he had a photo of the three of them together. But looking at it made his scars hurt, and he had shut it away long ago. Maybe he didn't want to remember.
But every now and again he would remember, be reminded, force himself to think about it.
And he would think that maybe he hadn't been lucky that day. Sure, those three had been brave. They'd saved him.
But what if he'd wanted to be with Kanisawa and Aoga?
He shook it off, thought about other things. His zanpakuto. His paperwork. His - it was his now, wasn't it? - division. His friends.
Because despite losing those two, he still had friends. Drinking friends, work friends, whatever overall lable they were given, they were still his friends.
People to stand by and fight by and fall for. Because he would fall.
No matter how much luck he may have, one day his sword would falter, and he would fall. He knew that.
So he simply tried to make it matter now.