Hinamori thought that perhaps... perhaps she was the idiot Hitsugaya-kun always called her. Perhaps she had been intolerably selfish, to feel sorry for herself. Not knowing her parents, always wondering who they might be, walking up and down streets looking at all the faces, thinking, "Maybe that's them..."

But to have them and then lose them... to have actually met them, even for a moment, and then to know that without a doubt, they were gone, to not even have the hope that someday they might magically appear and come for her... that was worse, surely? She felt ignorant. Stupid. Naive.

But at his last sentence, her heart warms. Her face turns up into a smile. Hitsugaya-kun. Granny. "Mm," she murmurs. She simply looks quietly at the painting in front of her, smiling, happily, not really looking at the painting so much as through it. She, at least, had not had a solitary childhood. Though her personality would have forced her to seek out company in almost any form; nonetheless she had been blessed, to have found such friends, such family as she had.