Hinamori had been about to thank Okita for at least attempting to help... when she heard his voice. The voice she was ashamed to admit she'd almost been dreading, the voice she'd longed to hear. And suddenly, no one else mattered; not the man who had helped her, not Ulquiorra, not anyone. Her body went rigid, ringed brown eyes wide and round as she turned to face him.

She couldn't help drawing a sharp breath when she saw him. If she hadn't known any better, she might not have even recognized him. That warm, inviting look in his eyes, only enhanced by the thick lenses of his familiar glasses. The shaggy locks of hair she'd come to adore over the years she'd served under him. Gone.

It felt like a punch to the stomach. Worse than that... it was almost comparable to the moment her dear captain had run her through with his blade. What has Captain Ichimaru done to him?, she thought to herself, the beginnings of outrage boiling up in the pit of her stomach. Hinamori only realized when she heard the faint crumpling of paper that her hands had balled into fists. The pamphlet was a crumpled mess in her grip.

When he smiled, however, the anger began ebbing away almost as quickly as it had surged up in the first place. He'd changed... but his smile hadn't. That soothing, kind smile. Aizen's smile.

Truthfully, even if it had been the cruelest of callous grins, that's what she would have seen before her. The memory had been ingrained so firmly in her mind that she simply couldn't comprehend anything else -- no, she refused to believe there could be anything else. That was one thing that could never change, even under Ichimaru's influence.

"Captain Aizen..." Hinamori's voice scarcely louder than a whisper, quivering faintly.

Was he the one that had bought her there? Did that mean he really was the reason everyone had begun vanishing?