Genre: Some bittersweet humor, I suppose
Characters: Hitsugaya and Matsumoto
Summary: Only she was capable of making him understand.
Sometimes, he didn't want to do anything. Sometimes, he just wanted to lean back in his chair and forget everything. Sometimes, he wished he was still lost in his dreams with Hinamori.
But then Matsumoto would charge into the office three hours late, complaining about the weather and how, because it was so dark and gloomy, she had thought it was still night time. And that was why she was late. It wasn't because she had been drinking with Abarai and Kira far into the early morning. Certainly not.
Whatever had given him that idea?
He would grimace and indicate the large pile of paperwork stacked neatly on her desk. She would huff and stomp over, all the while complaining about how she was so mistreated and how her taichou didn't even have the tact to say good morning to her. Then she would proceed to doodle on the margins of the reports for a good portion of the day before falling asleep on the couch.
She would snore, and he would smirk as she nearly rolled onto the floor. And he would newly understand, as he did every day, walking over to her desk and taking half of the unfinished logs back to his own.
He could never go back to that nothingness.
Because if he did, the Tenth Division would be left with no one but Matsumoto to run it.
And he couldn't allow that.