A whole new title, but the plot still remains the same. Well I hope you still enjoy the story nonetheless. There's nothing new in this chapter, except that I deleted the author's note at the end. I don't think you should know of what happened to me anymore –grins sheepishly- As always, I do not own Bleach nor La Corda.

Winter Sonata 01

Stroking the Notes of Ice

Heavy footsteps made their way down the staircase, the impact of the foot against the step echoing in the rather empty hallway. They then dragged themselves along the wooden floor in the direction of the kitchen, halting before the dining table. Owner of said elephant feet dragged the chair and settled down quickly, scowling and resting his chin on his palm.

His stare fell upon the figure standing before the stove. Smoke soon reached the ceiling as the smell of sunny-side ups overwhelmed his nostrils. The adolescent, however, took the fragrance as an everyday matter, and scoffed instead, tapping his foot and watching his father impatiently. He would be the last one to leave the house again today, and if he had a choice, he would leave for school straight away, but nooo…the thought of going hungry during lessons and distracting his classmates by the growling of his stomach would earn him a detention. Of course he wouldn't allow that to happen again, and he made sure he told his father that. But the breadwinner of the family made no evident effort.

He knew his old man was aware of his presence in the kitchen. He knew his old man was just ignoring that presence. But couldn't he at least pretend to know that his hungry son would be late for school for the fifth time and give him the breakfast he needed!? Damn, sometimes he wondered if his father's mental stability was passable in terms of parenting…

The sliding of a plateful of breakfast and a glass of orange juice against the dining table soon came into view. On the plate were two sunny-side ups, a sausage above each egg, and a line of…sliced strawberries along the bottom of the eggs. Overall his breakfast of the day looked like the smiley face treat his classmates told him about…except with a slightly gayer tone. The eggs and sausages were fine, actually…but the strawberries were definitely the last straw.

"Iiiiiiiiiiichigoooo!" the chef yelled out in ecstasy, only to be met with a clenched fist to his face. The father of the adolescent, Ichigo, merely laughed it off and wiped the blood away from his nose as if it were an everyday occurrence (in all actuality, it was). He stepped behind his son's seat and grabbed him by the shoulders, earning him a growl from the young teenager. "Ichigo, this is the effort your old man put into for your sake…sniff," Isshin said, wiping crocodile tears from his eyes. "And now you get to brag to those friends of yours about how caring your father is! Ahh, imagine how jealous they will be of you, Ichigo…sniff, your father will be so proud of you…aren't you proud of your daddy too?"

The adolescent's scowl just deepened further as he poked his egg with a fork and forced all the yolk to leak out. "Yeah, swell," Ichigo replied dryly, poking the other egg next. He watched the yellow fluid flood the plate, bathing the sausages and strawberries in yolk. "I'm practically shedding tears of joy right now, so could you please get the hell away from me," the orange-haired teenager spat darkly, rolling his eyes.

"Ah yes, this is what the puberty book always says; something-something about…about…hmm." Isshin looked down on his son, who had picked up the glass of orange juice and begun gulping the refreshment hungrily, and turned, back facing the other's back, and snatched the pocket-sized puberty book, flipping the pages as noiselessly as he could. "…er…ah! It's something about…PMS-ing, isn't it?"

Ichigo immediately spewed out the orange juice out and slammed the cup against the table, wiping his mouth with his sleeve and fighting against the coughing fit. Oh, how much he wanted to shove his father's face into the mud outside right now…and leave him there for a decade or so. He stole a glance at the empty glass; what a waste of that orange juice. And all because of what?

The stupidity of his father.

"Dad, it is not PMS-ing! PMS-ing is-oh crud," the orange-haired adolescent mumbled, looking down at his beeping watch. He pressed the alarm button, and grabbed the plate. "I don't have time right now! I'm gonna be late for school again, and it's all because of you!" Ichigo yelled as he scrambled for an obentou box to store his food; he was going to have to eat on his way to school.

The sniffing of his father did not distract him, and neither did the not-so pitiful whining which he had gotten used to hearing every single day of his life. Cries of 'Ichigo, do you hate me…?' filled the house, but the cries were not answered verbally. Instead, the slamming of the main door became the answer, and it sent Isshin to his knees as tears streaked down his face like waterfalls.

Ichigo, on the other hand, was racing against time. He sprinted like he never sprinted before, munching on the sunny-side up and the sausages before slurping the egg yolk, leaving the strawberries aside. It would do fine for a snack during break time, after all.

That is, if he managed to escape from break time detention.

The greenery and pale blue skies were the closest things to nature he could ever be before the serenity of the scene was replaced by the bustling streets and irksome traffic jams along the highway. Bungalows and terrace houses seemed to stretch along the streets forever, just like how the beautiful blanket above them stretched to never-ending means…

He closed his eyes and sighed, relaxing against the cushiony seat of the limousine. "Is something the matter, obousama?"

The treasure chest opened, revealing the glistening emeralds from within. "Hm?"

"Is something the matter?" the concerned voice repeated. "If you don't mind me saying, sire, you have become noticeably tired recently…is something wrong?"

"…No, it's nothing," the young master replied, shaking his head as he did so. The chauffeur said nothing in return, and the white-haired adolescent rested his elbow on the door handle, pressing his cheek against his palm, and eyes gazing out into the skies through the window. If not for the annoying, though unclear, reflection of himself on the window, he wouldn't be so petty over a matter concerning appreciation for nature.

Music sang out to his ears, but he shrugged it off inwardly; it had been the norm for him since the day he was born. The flute's beautiful and peaceful tone came in first, before it attempted to reach even higher notes at a softer and gentler wave. Synchronizing piano notes followed soon after, playing one octave lower than how the flute sounded, and then the cello, the instrument playing the lowest notes of the piece playing from the music disc.

To his surprise, the piano went solo not long after. The young student could tell that the pianist was amazingly skilled, playing from some of the lowest piano notes and suddenly playing five octaves higher without any transition, and yet the notes sounded as if they had merged together, not separate and stiff as some pieces could possibly turn out to be. It was like the lower notes and the higher notes were…in harmony.

A few minutes passed before the young master relaxed and gazed into the nature once more. The piece ended too abruptly; it was a pity, really. There could've had been more room for the piano and cello to shine, but the piece had ended off with the flute playing solo, and a soft violin tone at the background along with nearly undetectable music from a wooden flute. If not for his sharp hearing, he wouldn't have had been able to tell exactly which instruments contributed to the background music and which didn't.

He sighed, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. No longer would he ever get anything more than a few winks of sleep, even in his present exhausted state. There were just too many things to settle, in school and at home. No one in the Hitsugaya family had been getting well-earned rest for weeks, and that included the maids, the servants, family chef, and even the chauffeur himself.

He hadn't really wondered why, but it wasn't like he cared about it much. His parents weren't willing to say anything, and when the maids and servants were questioned, they tried to change the subject. Obviously his parents must've had given them a 'pay rise' that would shut their traps…if there was one thing the heir to the Hitsugaya family business really hated other than idiots, it would be that.

The view suddenly changed to a horde of students, wearing the autumn-style uniforms, dashing like madwomen up the slope. A few clumsy bums tripped on their own foot and caused an uproar while the domino effect took place. Hitsugaya scoffed; idiots would remain as idiots, after all. Nothing changed around here, he figured.

The front door closed quietly as he watched his chauffeur place his gloved hand on the handle of the limo door, pulling it open. As much as he hated to be frank, he really didn't want to come to school this early; he'd rather be late for once, but since he had already reached school, he didn't really have a choice. It had taken a while before the Hitsugaya successor was willing to step out into the open, grabbing his school bag as he did so. He sighed and adjusted his uniform neatly, buttoning up his collar. Typical model student.

But of course, what would a model student be without the existence of—

"HITSUGAYA-SAMA!!"

…fangirls?

"Rukia-san! Rukia-san!" Said raven-haired girl blinked when she heard her name being called, and looked to her left. A taller female came running towards her, waving her hand continuously. "Ohayou!" the orange-haired girl greeted. She stopped her running only when she reached the school gates.

"Ohayou, Inoue-san," Rukia replied with a smile. The soft slam of the limo door behind her indicated that the chauffeur was ready to drive back home. She turned, watching a figure with jet black hair similar to hers walking to the school gates, and her smile immediately faded away. "N-nii-sama, I'll see you here after school, right…?" she mumbled as she bowed respectfully.

The raven-haired man stopped in his tracks and turned to face his bowing sister, expression unchanging. "Don't bother about such petty details, Rukia," he spoke coldly. "Make sure that you get to your class before you are late. I will not tolerate late students."

Before his sister could reply, he had already departed for the teachers' staff room. Rukia released a relieved sigh that was tugging at her vocal chords, trying to relax even after the stiffening conversation with her older brother. A warm hand rubbed against her back smoothly, and the violet-eyed girl turned to look at a certain redhead who had his hand on her back, grinning and finishing off the relief procedure with a few pats on her back.

She smiled at her childhood friend, and then at her classmate. They turned and walked through the school gates together before settling down on a bench nearby. The restless redhead kept on pacing up and down the school grounds while Rukia was busy capturing the moment on her sketchbook. Inoue, on the other hand, was flipping through the pages of her recipe book to see if she could get any inspiration for dinner that night.

Renji couldn't stop checking his watch, and even gave it a few flicks to make sure the battery didn't run out or something. Rukia stared at him like as if he were a complete dolt, but continued minding her own business with the sketching, also impatiently checking her own watch at ten-second intervals. It wasn't long before the school bells rung melodically, and the once empty school grounds were immediately filled with packs of students running for their lives.

The ground shook as if an earthquake were occurring, the fresh leaves from the branches above disrupted Rukia's fantastical world of art as they got in her way, and the apparently latecomers screamed to each other to hurry up before the discipline master could get a tab on them. The red-haired pineapple gave a yelp when a random student amongst the crowd stomped on his foot. He jumped into the air like a high jumper and fell to the ground, landing on a pile of autumn leaves.

Said student turned around and ran towards the supposed casualty, reaching his hand out. "A-ah! Warui! Daijoubu ka!?" Instead of a clear answer, a spike of red hair popped out of the pile of leaves, and surprised the clumsy student off his feet. They blinked blankly, before the one responsible for Renji's sore foot pointed at him with his index finger. "R-Renji!?"

"Ichigo!?" the pineapple-styled student yelled back. He grunted and slapped the hand away, placing his own hands in his pockets. "You pig-face, where the hell have you been? We're late, and it's all 'cuz of you!"

"Oi, don't go around accusing me!" Ichigo protested as he jumped to his feet. "If you don't wanna be late, then why the hell are you and Rukia and Inoue still hanging around here!? Just go to class already!"

"We would, if not for some oversleeping pig!"

"Who are you calling-!?"

"Both of you, shut up!!" Rukia screamed at the top of her voice, smashing a coconut on each of their heads. Mentally, she smirked evilly at the two of them on their knees, groaning as they held their poor, injured heads which began harvesting little painful sores. Slurping the coconut juice hungrily and handing the other coconut to a frightened Inoue, she grabbed the two boys by their collars and held them to their own feet. "Stop arguing like the idiots you are, and let's move it! Nii-sama will certainly give us all detention if we don't rush to class now!"

"Byakuya…? Hey, isn't his lesson like, after Kyouraku-sensei's?"

Rukia sent Ichigo a glare and knocked his head against the now hollow husk of the coconut. The orange-haired strawberry nearly swore out loud when he saw little birdies flying about in his vision. "Baka! Today is Thursday! First period of the day is nii-sama's lesson! Kyouraku-sensei's lesson is after nii-sama's!"

"Alright, alright, cool down, Rukia…" Ichigo scowled, rubbing his sore head. "I wouldn't have such a bad headache if not for you and that stupid coconut of yours…" Pause. He turned to Renji, and they both blinked confusedly. "…By the way, where did you get that coconut?"

The raven-haired girl flashed them an evil grin. "It was on sale yesterday. Nii-sama bought them for me. I just brought one to school to have it for break."

"D-d-did you say…Kuchiki-sensei bought them for you!?" Poor Ichigo couldn't say anything; he was too mortified to. A firm grip came to the stunned strawberry's shirt as the red-haired pineapple began shaking him senseless, trying to get him out of his daze. "I-Ichigo! It's damn trouble! Kuchiki-sensei must've cursed this coconut and made it so thick and hard that it hurt when Rukia knocked it against us! We're cursed! We've been cursed by the Kuchiki curse!!"

The violet-eyed Kuchiki knocked Renji next and shook the both of them violently. "Stop making nii-sama sound so horrible and let's go! Seriously…I think you two have been watching too many horror movies lately…"

At Karakura Academy, everyone was part of the Karakura Academy family. The staff, the pupils and even the cleaners. The staff, which included the principals and the teachers, would be known as the heads of the family, leading the pupils – who would be the ones moulding the future of the family – into doing the right things and making the right decisions. The children of the family would be like obedient little doggies, following their masters' every command, but at the same time, they could be the worst of the devil children, rebelling at every second of every minute of every hour of the day. The cleaners would of course be the servants and maids, doing their best to maintain the best cleanliness and service to the family.

All in all, would you say that Karakura Academy was the best family of all the families out there?

Parents, teachers, and some of the students agreed that it was certainly a choice they did not regret. However, that might not be the case for most of the students who were practically forced into studying there, or perhaps avoiding some personal matters that required some looking into at home. But the most likely case would be when the students get detention from their teachers.

And so, while all their classmates were busily enjoying themselves in the canteen or down the hallways, or maybe even actively taking part in physical activities out in the field, only they had to stay behind in class, stuck with nothing but a room full of chairs and tables, and a blackboard which was deprived of its chalk.

When Byakuya told them that they had to stay back for detention, Ichigo and Renji protested that they didn't mean to be late, and began making up lame excuses to cover up the fact that Ichigo had caused them to be late (Renji brought that matter up, but Byakuya wouldn't hear of it). After the teacher of the period before break left, the Kuchiki entered the classroom and practically chased all of the students out with his infamous death glare, asking for his sister and for her friends to remain.

Admittedly, Rukia didn't dare provoke her elder brother, and Inoue thought the same. But Ichigo and Renji wanted their damned break, so they were gonna get that damned break even if they were gonna get the damned break by forcing Byakuya up the wall. They wouldn't mind returning to school to serve their detention during the holidays; all they wanted was their damned break, and hell, they were gonna make sure that they get that damned break.

Byakuya just told them to stay back after school for saying the word 'damned' so many times.

He even went so far as to bring the box of chalk into his possession, claiming that he would return it to the class after the break. Clearly, he didn't want any of the ill-mannered children to speak badly of him by writing rubbish on the board. Ichigo and Renji were already misbehaving during class by passing notes to each other, mainly talking about how much of a scary jerk he was. He was already merciful enough not to send them to the discipline master.

Thus, boredom sunk into their empty skulls as time passed by. Strangely enough, back then they wished – they, being the guys – that there would be an extension of break time to an hour. But now, they could only wallow in the depths of depression and utter boredom, watching the minute hand move along at a turtle-like pace. Heck, they wanted the next teacher to come in right now and teach them the syllabus for the day so that they could impress their classmates, but of course, that wouldn't happen.

Because their next sensei just so happened to be Byakuya again.

Surely the teacher who gave them the detention wouldn't want to let them off so easily by shortening the detention period. If they were to mutter the word 'beg', they were certain that the Kuchiki would break a pencil and send the halves hurling towards them. Not that they had witnessed or experienced that before; they only heard of the few horrifying experiences from the lips of their fellow schoolmates and seniors who either have or had Byakuya as their sensei. One time the newspaper published a short report on how two rebellious students ended up in the hospital after pissing an anonymous teacher off. No doubt that that 'anonymous' sensei was none other than Kuchiki-sensei himself.

No wonder he was known as the Akuma Sensei (Demon Teacher).

Ichigo gave a groan and made it as pained and tortured as possible. "C'mon, Renji, let's get outta here," he declared, poking the dazed pineapple.

Rukia looked up in her mid-sketch. "And just where do you think you're going, Ichigo?" Without him realizing, her fingers moved quickly to make a mini-sketch of him at the corner.

"Somewhere you can't go, Rukia," the strawberry replied, smirking a little.

The sister of the Demon Teacher, however, didn't like that witty smirk he had on his face. And Renji grinning along wasn't helping. "Yeah, Rukia, never heard of nature's call?"

Said raven-haired seventeen-year-old stared at them suspiciously; they were up to something, and she had a vague idea what. After knowing them since elementary school, she was sure that those two had something up their sleeves, and they would always give the excuse of going to the toilet where they could discuss their secret plans without any females disrupting them. How…smart and idiotic it was, at the same time. Smart, because she and Inoue would have no idea what they were up to. Idiotic, because if her respected brother just so happened needed to answer nature's call as well, he would be able to get hold of their plans and prevent further damage to his reputation.

She sighed anyway; she couldn't do anything, could she? After all, she had run out of spare coconuts. "Fine, go and be the stupid idiots you are. But don't expect me to explain to nii-sama on your behalf!"

"We don't need to explain anything to that high and mighty nii-sama of yours," Ichigo retorted, swinging an arm around Renji's neck, and allowed his hand to hang loosely. "So, Renji, about the killer homework that Byakuya gave us…"

"Ughhhh! You two are just incorrigible!" Rukia yelled after them, popping her head from the doorway. She tore out the sketch she was working on and rolled it into a ball, sending it hurling towards them with all her might before making a retreat back into class, deciding that she should start on a new piece – and call it 'Death and the Strawberry', dedicated to her nii-sama enjoying himself while slicing strawberries and mixing them in a juicer to make himself some strawberry squash.

Ichigo felt something tap against his head. He scratched the itchy part while a crumpled ball of white caught his eye. He and Renji halted in their tracks. The orange-haired strawberry then bent down and took the ball of paper, slowly unfolding it. On it was a rough sketch of two bears and two rabbits; one of the bears had a body like that of a strawberry's, and the other had hair like a pineapple's, while the shaded rabbit was biting on the strawberry, and the supposedly white rabbit crying and isolating itself away in a corner.

The two of them had twitched noticeably on their way to the toilet, the words 'I'll kill Rukia' surfacing in their minds not too long after. They crumpled the piece of paper, and Renji stuffed it in his pocket. That would serve as a reminder to get that girl later.

Ah, the washroom wasn't that much further now. Just turn at the corner and—

"What the—oi!"

And the next thing Ichigo knew, his back was kissing the floor. He heard Renji's stifled laughter before it eventually burst out; oh, how much he wanted to kill both Rukia and Renji…and who in the name of hell knocked him down anyway? He was going to kill that person too, whoever he was.

He leapt to his feet and dusted himself. His mouth opened to yell at whoever was at the ground in front of him – served him right – but no words came out. The orange-haired strawberry blinked at the person who had just knocked into him, or should it be the other way around? Renji confusedly pushed the strawberry's jaw back into place, but it just fell wide again. He waved a hand in front of his seemingly traumatized classmate, hoping to get a slap for his hand to get out of his vision, but he gained no response.

Ichigo, on the other hand, felt that he had suddenly been transported into another world – a world without Renji, Byakuya, Rukia, Inoue, and even the school or home itself – where only he and the fallen party existed. His stare did not leave the snow white hair that gave the colour white a bad name, and that figure…that stature…

"Um…Hey, are you ok?" he asked concernedly, offering to lend a helping hand. But the other party dismissed it with a wave of his hand, and stood on his own two feet on his own, dusting himself as he did so. Ichigo realized; he hadn't seen the other person's eyes, or his face, for that matter. "About just now…I'm sorry. It was my fault. I wasn't looking carefully. I won't let it happen again, I swear!"

"…I'd rather not have a next time," the white-haired student replied, finally opening his eyes to take a good look at the accident-causer. Ichigo sucked in a sharp intake of breath; those eyes…they were the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. Never once in his life had he seen someone who had such unique and beautiful eyes, no, not once.

"Ah…from your uniform, you look like a student from the Music Department, right?" Ichigo asked curiously, eyeing the familiar suit that only Music Dept. students could wear. "It…must've been hard to get into the Music Dept, eh? Heard there are lots of tough entrance exams…"

A silvery white eyebrow raised at the sudden change in subject, but the white-haired music student paid no heed to it thereafter. Instead, he closed his eyes and placed his hands in his pockets. "It's none of your business," he replied coldly, gluing his eyes to the ground next. "Now, if you may excuse me…I don't wish to be late for my next class."

Ichigo remained in a daze as the music student proceeded to walk past him, not seeming to give a damn about the red-haired adolescent's presence nearby. A sudden spasm clicked in his arm. "W-wait!" he called out as he suddenly turned around and grabbed the unusually thin arm, holding the owner of the arm back. "Um…I'm Kurosaki Ichigo. And…I wanna know your name." The shock expressed in the other's eyes hinted to him that it was a very sensitive matter to him, but before Ichigo could mutter an 'oh shit' he carried on, "'Cuz you know, I have a feeling that we'll meet again someday, and I wanna know your name so that I don't have to call you 'little guy' all the time, y'know."

Hitsugaya twitched when the orange-haired teen patted him on the head. It was as clear as glass that the other was treating him like some kind of baby, even for his age. Well, that explained why the doofus was so shocked when he saw that he was wearing the Music Dept. uniform. He probably thought that he was some kind of genius or something to be able to get into a high school at 'his age'. That just about did it…

He smacked the hand away and grabbed it by the wrist, turning the tables around. "If you think of me as a mere child, then you thought wrong." The grip on Ichigo's wrist tightened, earning a pained yelp from the one in pain. "Listen closely, Kurosaki Ichigo, because if I have to repeat myself the next time we meet, you will never see the light of day ever again."

"G…go on…" Ichigo groaned, voice strained and considerably at a higher pitch (oh gosh, Renji was laughing his ass off).

"I am not what you consider as a 'genius'," he began. "I came here only because I am eligible to, nothing more, nothing less. I passed the exams through hard work, and came to the Music Department only to further my studies centring music. If you, an idiot, cannot comprehend the hard work I have put into and think of me as a child no older than twelve, then you are what I would call the king of idiots. And I detest being around idiots," he added venomously, albeit loosening his grip on the other's wrist.

"…If there is nothing more, then I will take my leave." The white-haired teenager then released his hold, and turned, his back facing the orange-haired strawberry. He took a step forward before he paused, and turned to face him slightly. "My name is Hitsugaya Toushirou, and I hope that your feeling is wrong, because I do not wish to get myself acquainted with the likes of you," he added before walking away down the corridors.

Out of his curiosity, Renji took a peek at the white-haired guy who just gave his friend a good grip on his wrist. He stopped and looked around suspiciously, before he picked up the pace and almost looked as if he were jogging. Renji blinked twice in rapid motion, wondering to himself why the hell the brat seemed as if he were running away from something. High-pitched squeals came in his way, and a horde of fangirls came rushing by as they literally chased their dreams – well, the man of their dreams, anyway.

He gripped his classmate's shoulder. "Oh well…now that that's over with…Oi, weren't we supposed to—huh?" The red-haired general ed student gave the orange-haired adolescent a poke in the shoulder. "Oi, are you listening to me, Ichigo!? Or have you gone deaf from the shock?" When his friend did not reply, the dumbness of the Kurosaki started to worry him.

It shocked him even more when Ichigo suddenly spun around and looked at the now empty corridor like a puppy watching its master leave for school.

He looked at the red mark around his wrist, and tapped it gently. Well, it might've hurt…but it hurt for a good cause, he mused silently as his fingers curled themselves around the injury, enjoying the biting iciness sink into the bones of his fingers. A sad smile found its way to his face as he gentle ran his fingers over the crimson mark.

"…And that's all that matters, I guess."

"Huh?"

Ichigo did not say anything else. Instead, he turned to look once more, even though he knew he wouldn't see that tuft of white hair unless fate allowed him to. And he would very much rather see those beautiful eyes should the chance ever arise again.

"Toushirou, huh?" he asked no one in particular, smirking to himself. "It suits him."

I wonder what instrument he plays…

"…I hope it's the violin."

The white-haired music student entered the soundproof room, locking the door as he closed it behind him. He walked towards the piano calmly and lifted the cover up. The soft tone of 'la' filled the room before it died away and was replaced by the flipping of musical sheets. He got up from the seat and settled the notes down nicely on the stand before settling back down, playing a few more chords while he was at it.

He then stopped in the midst of playing a famous Chopin piece, and stared at the casing he placed at the foot of the piano. Silence thickened in the atmosphere before a sigh escaped its cage. The white-haired teenager carefully unlocked the casing and stood before the sheets stand, reading the notes as if they were words from a novel.

At once, Hitsugaya brought the sky blue violin to his neck and readied the bow, as he closed his eyes and stroked the strings for the first time in months.