Author's Note: This is just a little one-shot fic I wrote in honor of White Day, a holiday celebrated in Asia that is sort of like Valentine's Day, except boys are supposed to give gifts/chocolate to the people they respect, admire, or have a crush on (Heh-heh.). Plus, the name "White Day" seems to be a very good reference to Hitsugaya's hair, no?
The fourteenth day of the third month.
March 14.
White Day.
This annual day for the male confession of one's love was actually one of Hitsugaya Toshiro's most disliked holidays, along with the day that occurred exactly a month before, St. Valentine's Day.
And he had plenty of reason to dread the day, too.
As soon as he had woken up, he had dearly wished that he could somehow get his dainty hands on a remote control of life and fast-forward right through the day. Unfortunately, no such object existed, and if it did, it was probably lost in the bowels of one of Adam Sandler's fictional residences.
With a soft sigh, the child prodigy sat up, running a hand through his unkempt snowy locks. He rubbed his eyes, which were dull from a lack of sleep the previous night, before standing up to neatly fold his sheets, roll up his futon, and stow it away back inside the cabinet.
Then, he made his way across the room to a small, cramped, closet, pulling out his typical articles of clothing, smoothing the fabric with his hands to rid them of their annoying wrinkles. He put on his kimono, his slender arms slipping easily through the wide sleeves, and then pulled on his hakama, fastening the simple obi around his thin waist. Next, he put on his white tabi, and then finally, over his kimono, he pulled on his haori, which proudly bore the symbol of the tenth division.
Juuban tai taichou, Hitsugaya Toshiro.
But not quite. There was one thing missing.
He moved to a rack on the wall, on which was placed his trusty zanpaku-to, Hyorinmaru. He looped the katana's strap over his shoulder, adjusting it into a comfortable position before finally stepping out his bedroom door and making his way towards his office.
Upon finally reaching his office, he pulled open the rice-paper door, shutting it behind him. He was surprised to see his fukutaichou, Matsumoto, already there.
"Good morning, Matsumoto," Hitsugaya greeted curtly. There was no need for many more words other than those to be said. After all, he had work to do.
"Mornin', taichou," Matsumoto responded cheerfully with a casual salute. "Happy White Day, too, by the way."
"Don't even remind me," Hitsugaya muttered, irritated as he seated himself in front of his copious oak desk.
"Ne, taichou, don't you have a gift for me?
"Excuse me?"
"A present."
There was a pause before Hitsugaya spoke again. "As a matter of fact, Matsumoto," he replied tartly, "I do have a gift for you…" At this point, he pointed to a menacing stack of paperwork which was sitting on his desk. "It's right here. Have fun."
"Aww, taichou! You're no fun!" Matsumoto whined.
"Shut up," Hitsugaya grumbled. "We've got to get these stupid forms filled out."
He pulled his drawer desk open, ready to take out his calligraphy brush and ink block in order to get straight to work. However, what met his eyes instead did not make him the least bit happy.
His drawer was crammed full of parcels, cards, chocolate boxes, and gifts. He narrowed his eyes, noting that all of them seemed to be from male shinigami, the majority of which were addressed to him.
With a growl of irritation, he took each offending object out of his drawer, placing them on his desktop, one by one. By the time he was done, he had succeeded in making a pile roughly twenty times the size of Matsumoto's famed breasts.
"Ooh, how cute!" Matsumoto giggled. "So many gifts for you, taichou, you must be one admired guy, right?"
"Shut up," Hitsugaya muttered, sorting through the pile and removing a package, tossing it to Matsumoto. "This one's addressed to you," he informed her.
"Hmm?" Matsumoto inquired, catching the airborne parcel and observing it, turning it about in her hands. "Weird, it's from Hueco Mundo."
"Then toss it into the trash. It's probably a bomb or something."
"Throw it away!?" Matsumoto protested. "No! It's from Gin, and it's specially for me!"
"If you insist," Hitsugaya sighed, "But before you open it, please help me dispose of this mountain of useless junk."
Curiously, Matsumoto put her own package aside, moving to her captain's desk, curious to see who had sent her taichou so many packages. She looked at each one, musing to herself.
She came across a small card, and she opened it. "Hm," she said to herself, inhaling. "It smells like cherries."
On the inside of the card was a drawing, done in glow-in-the-dark crayons. A drawing that looked like a demented version of her captain, with some cherry petals in the background.
"Cute," she sniggered.
"Matsumoto, just throw it away. You don't need to look at it."
"Um, taichou…it's from Byakuya-taichou."
"…"
"…"
"Throw it away," Hitsugaya ordered through gritted teeth. "Now."
"Yes, sir," the buxom fukutaichou answered. "You'd better get going, taichou, there's a captain's meeting today."
"I'm aware of that," her captain answered, "And I'll be on my way now. God help you if I return and find that all this is still on my desk."
"Yeah, yeah. Just leave already."
And leave he did.
No sooner had he exited his office, Hitsugaya was instantly surrounded by a group of his subordinates, all looking at him intently and thrusting packages and parcels into his hands.
"Hitsugaya-taichou! Happy White Day!"
"Hitsugaya-taichou, please accept these flowers!"
"No! Take my chocolates first, Hitsugaya-taichou!"
"Hitsugaya-taichou!"
The young captain resisted the urge to break out Hyorinmaru and turn the entire area into a giant glacier.
"I'm sorry, but I can't take these," Hitsugaya said as calmly and as politely as he could, not wanting to freak out his subordinates. "I appreciate it, but please, keep them for yourselves."
"But, taichou-"
Pretending he couldn't hear, Hitsugaya departed the area as fast as he could. Oh, the wonders of shunpo. It was on days like these that he was eternally grateful for whoever had taught him those magic steps.
The captain's meeting was a nightmare.
As soon as he had stepped in, he was quite uncomfortable at the fact that several of the captains were staring intently at him, as if they expected him to do some kind of circus trick or something like that.
Even the sotaichou had a boquet of flowers waiting for the grumpy prodigy, which he promptly turned down.
As he took his place between Kenpachi and Kyoraku, he couldn't help but notice that Mayuri was shamelessly staring at him with a rather ravenous expression. Kyoraku's eyes, he realized, were resting on his rear end, and even Kenpachi coughed a little and scooted the slightest bit closer to him. It was seriously starting to freak the poor prodigy out.
To make things worse, Ukitake made a point to approach Hitsugaya, brandishing a basket full of confections. In short, it looked pretty much like premature diabetes and childhood obesity.
"Hitsugaya-taichou!" the captain of the thirteenth division called out brightly, plopping the heavy basket right into the little captain's arms. "Happy White Day! Have some candy!"
"Why the hell are you always-"
"Because," Ukitake declared, cutting Hitsugaya off in mid-sentence. "We're both Shiro-chan, aren't we? Anyways, today's our special day! It's White Day!"
Hitsugaya stared at him blankly before turning to Kenpachi and handing him the basket of sugared goodness. "Please give these to Kusajishi-fukutaichou," he grumbled.
Ukitake looked like he was about to cry.
"Hitsugaya-taichou!" Mayuri called out, beckoning to the boy with those creepy, pasty fingers of his that seriously needed a proper manicure. "Do I happen to be a respected colleague of yours?"
"I suppose," Hitsugaya answered. "I consider everyone in the Gotei 13 to be respected-"
"Good! In that case," Mayuri blathered, interrupting him quite rudely, "I'd like to receive a gift from you!"
"Erm, what are you talking about?"
"Your body!" the insane scientist answered eagerly, his eyes bulging with excitement. "Please give me your body! I wish to experiment on you! After all, you are the youngest to ever attain the taichou rank, and you would be an interesting subject to study! How's about it?"
Hitsugaya looked horrified.
"I-I'm sorry, but I'll have to decline." With that, he turned away, muttering to himself angrily. What the hell was all this shit and why was it happening to him? What had he done to deserve it? It seemed as if the holiday had been created for the sole purpose of driving him insane.
Much to his relief, the meeting ended fairly quickly, and Hitsugaya hastily exited the room, hurrying back to his own office. He intended on locking his door tightly, and if anyone were to ask to see him, he planned on blackmailing Matsumoto into telling them that he was out on a mission.
He flung his office door open, and instantly began fuming, ranting loudly, and by just hearing him, one could tell he was seriously pissed off.
"What is the meaning of this pointless holiday!? Already, the drawer I have worked so hard to clean out has been once again messed up by some hooligans thinking it would be nice to leave me their junk. And then, when I'm trying to leave, I'm assaulted by my own subordinates asking me to take even more junk. When I finally get to my meeting, the sotaichou tries to give me some stupid flowers! Who the hell does that!? Ukitake is being unbearable, as usual, and Mayuri, that freak, had the nerve to ask me for my body, and-"
"Wow, Toshiro, looks like you're really having a crappy day, huh?"
Hitsugaya paused abruptly, his eyes widening the slightest.
He knew that voice.
And he knew who the only one who dared address him by his first name was.
"Kurosaki…?"
"Long time no see, Toshiro!" Ichigo responded brightly, giving him what he obviously thought was a cheery and winning smile. "What's with the sour face?"
Hitsugaya glanced from the grinning strawberry, and then to Matsumoto, who was sheepishly pretending she had been filling out paperwork the whole time.
"Matsumoto, what is the meaning of this? What is Kurosaki doing in my office?"
"Ah, he came all the way here from the real world just to see you," Matsumoto explained nervously, not liking her captain's icy tone the least bit.
"Yup!" Ichigo nodded cheerfully. "Sorry, Toshiro, I know you're probably really sick of getting presents and stuff right now, but I hope you won't mind just accepting one more."
Hitsugaya glanced dismissively at Ichigo before letting out an irritated sigh. "Fine," he finally said, "Since you went into all the trouble to come here."
Matsumoto giggled, which earned a death glare from her captain. She knew better. She knew that her taichou had always had the tiniest, slightest crush on the substitute shinigami.
"Great," Ichigo beamed, handing Hitsugaya a small envelope. "Go on," he urged, "Open it and read what's inside."
With a roll of his teal eyes, Hitsugaya opened the envelope, taking out the letter that it contained, squinting to read the messy handwriting that had been scrawled upon the paper.
"Toshiro:
Close your eyes and turn around, please.
Signed, Ichigo."
"Close my eyes?" he demanded indignantly. "Why would I do a stupid thing like that?"
"Just do it, taichou!" Matsumoto encouraged.
So sighing grudgingly, feeling like a fool, Hitsugaya reluctantly closed his eyes, their aquamarine color now hidden behind the fringe of dark lashes.
"Now turn around…" Matsumoto coached.
"I know!" he snapped angrily, before slowly, oh-so-slowly turning around.
And he instantly regretted it.
No sooner had he turned 180 degrees, he suddenly felt something soft and warm press against his lips, and something that he presumed was a hand placed gently against the side of his cheek.
Confused and bewildered, Hitsugaya seemed to be frozen to the spot with shock. Oh, god, he wasn't about to be raped, was he? His purity was being plucked from him like a flower, and all he was doing was standing there and letting it happen!?
And then something slimy, something wet, something most definitely unwanted flickered across his bottom lip.
What the hell…!?
Hitsugaya's eyes shot open.
He found himself staring directly into Ichigo's chocolate-colored irises.
He opened his mouth to protest in order to save his pride, but he never had the chance to let the words come out.
Startled, Ichigo lost balance, stumbling forward.
And his tongue.
Went straight into Hitsugaya's slightly parted lips.
The prodigy's eyes were wide with what seemed to be a mix of horror and shock, before he, too, lost balance and toppled backwards onto the floor, Ichigo pitching forward along with him and landing on top of him, their lips still locked together as if against their own wills.
Matsumoto clapped her hands to her mouth to stifle her laughter.
Hitsugaya said nothing.
Ichigo said nothing.
They both lay there on the floor, lips pressed together, staring at each other in mute shock.
And then the office door burst open.
Several of Hitsugaya's subordinates stood there, carrying news from the sotaichou that they had received via Hell Butterfly.
Imagine their surprise at the scene that was waiting for them.
Some freakish, orange-haired punk.
On top of their taichou.
Kissing their taichou.
"…"
"…"
"…"
"…"
Hitsugaya swore, that was the worst White Day he had ever had the misfortune of living through.
Ichigo, though, could have assumed that it was his best.