DISCLAIMER: Nope. But I do own the sk– whoops. Not going to tell you. Read.

Author's Note: Hey guys, sorry for the long wait. I wanted to write this earlier, but got… distracted… (read: became addicted to drawing characters from Bleach, mainly Hitsugaya) and ended up putting it off again and again. Finally, I managed to coerce myself into writing, so there. I decided to split this into two parts, since I wanted to publish this fic today, but I'm just too tired to finish the whole story tonight. (Besides, this part is very long already, trust me.) Part 2 for this should come out within the next three days, as long as I don't get sidetracked again. My thanks to all who reviewed the last chapter, and hope you enjoy this one! Cheers!

Tōshirō closed his eyes wearily.

The taichō's eyes were bleary from looking through the huge stack of paperwork that had made it to his table, most of which needed authorization by either himself or Matsumoto.

Who, unfortunately, does not seem to be here right now.

In fact, his fukutaichō had been missing since lunch, which was a rare occurrence, even for her. Normally, she would drag herself back to the Tenth Division headquarters, and either doodle on their paperwork or sleep on the couch, depending on how hungover she was.

Pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes in a futile effort to revive them, Tōshirō wondered, briefly, where Matsumoto had gone. She hadn't gone drinking, he knew, since he had just seen Kira, whom Matsumoto wouldn't drink without, pass outside the windows of his office.

So where has she gone to?

"Taichō!"

Speak of the devil.

Tōshirō winced as the loud sound of his fukutaichō's voice hit his ears. His head was beginning to pound.

Looks like my question is about to be answered about… now.

The current object of Tōshirō's annoyance bounded into the room, taking in his posture.

"Ooh, taichō, have you been sleeping? You –"

He turned to glare at her. The glare, which would have sent some to the Fourth Division immediately, had barely any effect on Matsumoto, although it did help to quieten her, something Tōshirō was extremely grateful for.

"I have been doing paperwork, Matsumoto." The taichō hardly bothered to keep the sarcasm out of his voice, ignoring Matsumoto's – obviously faked – puppy eyes. "You do know what that is, don't you? If you don't, let me tell you. Paperwork is something that both you and I are supposed to do, not something that you dump on me before going out somewhere and subsequently disappearing for half a day!"

By the end of his sentence, Tōshirō had, in his usual way of multitasking, finished skimming another report from his third seat and was about to sign it when a piece of paper landed in front of him.

His eyes immediately caught the bold black words written across the top of the paper. The nature of it suddenly became clear to him, as clear as the throbbing pain from the now full-blown headache.

Barely a split of a second later, Matsumoto found herself, yet again, the victim of her taichō's icy glare, although this one was far more potent, and seemed to carry the promise of retribution if the owner of that glare was not satisfied.

Which he wasn't, not at all.

"Matsumoto." His voice was as icy as his glare. "What, precisely, is the meaning of this?"

"Don't be like that, taichō," she whined. "I spent three days trying to get this approved. I even had to go look for Yamamoto-sōtaichō himself!"

Tōshirō's glare did not diminish in the slightest bit. If anything, it intensified.

"That does not explain why I need this." He pointed at the piece of paper that lay innocently on his desk.

Matsumoto sighed.

She wondered how she was going to explain to her taichō why she had applied for two weeks' leave from work for him.

Much less the paper that she now hid behind her own back for her own leave from work.

ONE WEEK LATER...

Matsumoto shivered slightly as she stepped out of the small chalet. The snow was coming down rather thickly for this time of the year, as the resort manager had informed her when she had rented the chalet.

She couldn't help but agree with him.

Although Matsumoto was certain that there was at least one person she knew who didn't think so.

"Taichō?" she called out, voice slightly muffled by the scarf around her neck.

No answer.

She guessed that he was hiding up some tree, brooding, which would be easy given his small frame, even though both of them were in gigai.

Well, at least it's better than last week.

Matsumoto snickered at the recollection of her taichō's reaction when she had told him where she planned to bring him during this holiday. Or, as he had – quite accurately, in fact – put it, abduct him to after forcing him to miss two whole weeks of work.

Although I wouldn't call it "forcing him to miss work". She pondered the phrasing for a moment. More like "allowing him to take a break from his job". Sounds much better.

In her honest opinion, her taichō's expression of utter horror had been worth all the trouble she had gone to.

And it was all because Matsumoto had told him that they were going to the beach.

The beach.

Honestly…

Tōshirō shook his head in disgust. There were always times when he didn't know what his fukutaichō was thinking, but he had been seriously doubted her sanity when she told him that they were headed for the beach.

Matsumoto, of all people, should have known how much he detested going to beaches. Or anywhere hot, for that matter.

The only reason that she had gotten out of the taichō's office in one piece, unharmed, was because of her set of backup tickets – evidently suggested by Ukitake – to a resort in the Swiss Alps.

Which was where they were now.

He made a mental note to thank the Thirteenth Division taichō once he returned to Soul Society. That, and berate him for not telling Tōshirō about Matsumoto's plans. Although, now that he thought about it...

As much as Tōshirō hated to admit it, he was actually enjoying himself here.

Sort of, at least.

To some extent, that was to be expected, since he was always more agreeable when surrounded with ice and snow, both of which were present in abundance at the resort.

Then there had been the skiing lessons that Matsumoto had signed both of them up for – when she had done that, he had absolutely no idea. Being as familiar with the ice as Tōshirō was made him excel at it, even being called a 'natural' by the coach. His fukutaichō, however, had not been so lucky. She ended up stuck on the beginner's slope while he moved on, something that brightened up his day considerably, much to the amusement of his zanpakutō.

Of course, Hyōrinmaru had been even more delighted when Tōshirō had finally consented to release him on the icy slopes. Both shinigami and zanpakutō reasoned that it wouldn't matter either way.

After all, this was the Swiss Alps. No one was really going to notice if the amount of ice covering the ground increased overnight.

In other words, this was the perfect place, both for training and having fun.

Not that Tōshirō was about to tell Matsumoto that.

He was honest and all that, but a taichō's sense of pride came first.

Especially when it came to his fukutaichō.

A black-cloaked figure left the chalet quietly, heading towards the offices of the ski resort. It broke into a jog as it neared the office.

"Sir!"

The resort manager, who had been locking the doors, looked up at the newcomer. He smiled as he recognised her.

"Good evening, ma'am. How can I help you?"

She checked for eavesdroppers before replying.

"I need to ask you for a favour."

The manager listened as she carefully detailed her plans for a certain guest at the resort.

Matsumoto ran towards Tōshirō, wildly waving the leaflet she held in her hands.

"Taichō! Look at this!"

Reluctantly, and with a distinct sense of dread, Tōshirō accepted the paper, reading it quickly.

According to several eyewitnesses, his strangled yell could be heard a kilometre away.

Pink.

The signboard was pink.

Remind me why I am here again? Tōshirō asked himself.

He knew the answer, of course. It was because Matsumoto had, after much bargaining, agreed to do three months' worth of paperwork all by herself if he did one thing.

Win this competition.

"And it had to be an ice sculpturing competition," he muttered to himself.

Somehow, Tōshirō suspected that his fukutaichō had something to do with organizing the competition. It was too much of a coincidence that it was only announced the day before, especially considering that this was the first time the resort was holding such a competition.

Unfortunately for Matsumoto, Tōshirō did not believe in coincidences.

to be continued...

2nd Author's Note: There we go :) Hope you liked it. As I said earlier, the second part should come out soon, as I have already thought of the general plot for it. Any suggestions, however, are greatly welcome, especially since this is the first fic in this series that isn't pure crack. Maybe I'll try at some fluff. Who knows? (Although I must admit that to be an unlikely possibility.)

3rd (and last) Author's Note: As usual, please do review! (And wish me good luck too, preferably. I'm running for my school's student council election, and voting is tomorrow! *freaks out slightly* Hopefully I will see at least one review before I head off to school, then. Otherwise I really might freak out. =S ) I'll be waiting!