I was thinking, there aren't many Hitsuhina fics out there. Well, there are, but not many with substance. One shots here and there get tiring after a while, so, I decided to make a multi-chapter fic. Hopefully I'll finish this one. ehe.

Aware; A hitsuhina fic by CherryIzzy, who is seriously contemplating changing her name from cherryizzy because it sounds crap, doesn't it?

Disclaimer: If I owned Bleach, I would have made Hitsugaya taller.


If only she would stop reading her horoscopes out to him, maybe he at least could get some paperwork done. But, no, his idiotic fuku-taichō just had to be 'in-tune' with the human world and let him catch up on this month's possible happenings. Apparently, Tōshirō was going to get lucky in love. So, he kicked her out. It didn't take much; just a roar of 'MATSUMOTO' and the busty woman was gone, like the ash of her Haineko. If only it were just as easy to get her to do her share of the god damned piles of paperwork piling up in the Tenth Division headquarters office.

Finally, some peace and quiet, to try and get the Hollow vanquishing sorted, the names of the souls they had passed on this week, and possible new entries and transfers to the squad. Almost all of the transfers were being requested from the Fifth Squad, under the circumstances that they were 'uncertain of their future in the Squad'. Tōshirō snorted cynically. They just meant they were too afraid to go on without their traitorous taichō and a fuku-taichō who was not in her right…Tōshirō stopped his thoughts right there.

Had he not vowed to himself that he would kick the shit out of anyone who badmouthed Hinamori Momo? And here he was, about to break his own vow of being behind Momo every step of the way to her recovery. Even if she hadn't woken up yet, and Unohana's requests for him to talk to her were futile, he had told her once, and he would tell her a thousand times. Not the way he was now. Maybe, one day, when he had become stronger, he would approached the dreaded halls of the Fourth Squads healing quarters, and walk into his best friends room and call out her name, and maybe she would respond.

Maybe. Tōshirō sighed and threw down his pen. Leaning back in his chair, he covered his face with his hands, running them through his hair and closing his eyes. Was it too much to hope that she would wake up on her own, fighting for herself, and wanting revenge on her beloved taicho? Probably. And anyway, hope, luck, karma, whatever you wanted to call it, was never on the poor kid genius' side, always working against him. And him always working against it. From the moment he had promised to protect Momo, he was always working against everything. He rose through the grades in the Shinigami academy, graduating early; he had become a captain in the Gotei 13 Squads within a matter of days, and from then on continued to uncover the plot against Soul Society. That was when Lady Luck smacked him in the face with her cruel Fan of Fate. It had almost cost him his own life, and the life of the one person he truly cared about.

And then the sadistic lady had left him here. Hiding among his paperwork, nursing an extremely painful headache and a bruised ego to boot. Contemplating whether or not to go visit his best friend, and just ask her to wake up. It's what Tōshirō felt like doing from time to time. Just shunpo'ing to the Fourth Division as fast as his reiatsu would take him and begging, pleading with Momo to stop torturing him and open her eyes and say his name.

Sighing once more, Tōshirō pushed back his chair and stood. He needed to take a walk. It was almost winter out, it would be cold. Good. If it was even the slightest bit warm, he would just whip out Hyōrinmaru and change the weather so maybe it would snow. Although, Ukitake-taicho may come out and force snacks into his arms for making the world 'shiro'ified. That man was beyond clinically insane when it came to the colour white.

So, just a walk. In the cold. That sounded great. He needed to clear his head, from whatever was plaguing his mind. Which was mainly the bastard Aizen and his bastard follower Gin. He didn't give two flying monkeys if the foxface had saved Matsumoto's life once, that was a long time ago, and she was more than perfectly fine now. Speak of the devil…

"Taicho! Hitsugaya-taicho!" The strawberry-blonde was calling his name, and Tōshirō turned his head to watch her sprint breathlessly down the walkways of their division. She stopped before him, panting slightly as she bent over to try and catch her breath. She was holding a Jigoku Chou on her index finger, and Tōshirō's eyes were fixed on it. "Hinamori-chan…she…"

"Spit it out, Matsumoto!"

"She woke up sir, and she's asking for you!"


Well...reviews?