DISCLAIMER: First things first, I am not Tite Kubo (I haven't even been to Japan) so I don't own anything that appears in the Bleach manga.


PROLOUGE

No one knew.

Rangiku didn't know and didn't notice. She became too busy ever since Gin was released from all charges and placed back into captaincy, much to Kira's pleasure. Momo didn't notice either as she was too busy trying to get the fifth division back on track and healing from the scars Aizen left.

Toshiro didn't want anyone to notice; he liked that they were oblivious to some things in his life.

It was during this time of the year. It was Spring again, light and airy, sweet and happy. It was her season, her time. The sister of Winter.

It wasn't common knowledge , but before Momo came into his life, Toshiro had a family; he had a sister once upon a time. Now, that time has passed, and they had gone.


"Ohayou Shiro-chan!" Don't. Please, don't say that.

"Its Hitsugaya-taicho, not Shiro-chan." Don't remind me how much of a failure I am.

"Demo, Shiro-chan is much cuter!" Odd, that was the same reason she gave…

"We're not at home, bed-wetter Momo. We have responsibilities." How… how is it that you act so much like her… How?

"Mou! Shiro-chan is so mean." You never knew, I wasn't always like this… "I have to go now. A lot of paperwork to do. Ja ne~"

"Hn." Don't let them know. Good Toshiro, don't let them suspect anything.


"Toshiro!"

"What do you want, Kurosaki? And it's Hitsugaya-tacho to you." You ignore the second half of the sentence and continue.

"What's wrong?" That catches me off guard. Don't. Please, let me keep my mask. Let me keep this one secret at least.

"What do you mean? There is nothing wrong with me." It's good to act ignorant. But you ignore what I'm saying once again.

"What's wrong:" You say it a second time, and now i feel my mask breaking. Your voice told me that you were the same. We are the same. We had to grow up far too early.

"Toshiro, tell me." Here, you ask me with the same intensity. I can't handle it anymore. I swiftly turn around and head back to my office. You follow, understanding what I mean, making it look like nothing happened and everything was how it was everyday. No one suspected anything.

We enter, and again you ask, "What's wrong?"

I sigh and finally relent, "I had a sister." It was simple and blunt, but you understand.

"What happened?"

"She never came home."