Disclaimer: I suddenly got the ownership for Bleach yesterday. For free. Oh, wait, that was a daydream.

Author's Note: Hey, I realised that all my chapters so far start with the word 'Tōshirō'. So I'm keeping up the tradition here. Heh.

2nd Author's Note: This story was originally planned to be funny all the way through, more like the two previous ones. But after thinking it through (thus the delay in posting), I finally decided against it, because (a) I wanted to try my hand at writing something that didn't resemble a crackfic, (b) I got this idea at the same time as the original one, and (c) I couldn't think of a single funny idea that wasn't completely OOC for Hitsugaya. So I apologize if this one isn't up to my usual standards, since I've had precious little practice at this genre. *crosses fingers* Anyway, hope you enjoy the chapter, and review!

Tōshirō sighed.

He had been staring at the block of ice for two hours and he still hadn't thought of anything.

In fact, he had walked around it so many times that he could almost memorize everything about it – its size and shape, the number of tiny cracks and imperfections that marred the otherwise smooth surface, even the exact shade of bluish-purple that it was.

The only real problem was that he just couldn't think of anything to do with it.

Tōshirō was quite glad that he still had the rest of the day ahead of him to sculpt the ice. He suspected that it would take him at least another hour to think of a usable idea.

The taichō would much rather be off training with Hyorinmaru than do this. Or out fighting Hollows.

"Come to think of it, even paperwork might be preferable over this," he muttered to himself.

Unfortunately, as it would seem, creativity was not one of the taichō's strengths.

He sat on the thick blanket of snow, running his hand over the ice. Briefly, Tōshirō considered taking Matsumoto's suggestion. Although winning by releasing Hyōrinmaru would really be quite unfair to the other contestants, he thought.

The ice dragon gave a snort of agreement.

So Matsumoto's suggestion is out of the question. He racked his brains for a moment. A sudden thought occurred to him.

Tōshirō wondered what Hinamori would do in his place.

Hinamori…

Thinking of his childhood friend reminded him of his days in Rukongai, when he had just arrived in Soul Society. Afraid, alone.

Defenseless.

Of course, he had been fortunate enough to arrive in Junrinan, the First District of West Rukongai. It was the most lawful district, being closest to the center. He couldn't have ended up in a safer place, considering the things he had heard from those who had lived in other districts, like Abarai and his own fukutaichō.

But the fact remained that, although Tōshirō had been safe from physical harm, he was still open to other attacks.

There were things that could hurt more than swords or fists, as he knew all too well.

Sometimes, he wondered what would have happened if he hadn't met Hinamori, or his grandmother. Most of the time, though, he didn't want to think about it.

It was only because of the two of them that he had happy memories of his years in Rukongai, even though he had been lonelier after Hinamori had left for the Academy.

Then he had met Matsumoto.

More like bumped into her. The taichō thought of their first meeting. Quite literally.

Tōshirō wondered whether either of them would have guessed back then that he would become her taichō. He didn't think so. They had seemed to be an unlikely pairing at the time, being as different as they had been.

As they still were, he realized. But their differences had somehow united them, allowing them to complement each other, even though they contrasted like light and dark did.

The thing was that, Tōshirō couldn't even begin to imagine himself without these people by his side – and that was saying a lot.

Ever since childhood, he had been wary of relying on anyone, and avoided it almost completely. The feeling had only intensified as the years went by, with him sailing through the Academy, and graduating within a year, gaining him the title of "child genius"; and yet later, when he joined the Gotei 13, rising through the ranks by merit of his skill and abilities.

Nevertheless, he had never felt the need to be independent more keenly than the first time he had put on his captain's haori. The white garment, with the division insignia emblazoned on the back, seemed to tell him that he was on his own now, and he couldn't – wasn't supposed to – rely on anyone other than himself.

Even so, the pair had managed to worm through his defences. And as much as he would like to deny it, Tōshirō had come to rely on them in many ways, for things big and small. Things that he would never thought that he needed, and which he would never have had otherwise.

Support. Protection. Comfort.

And above all, friendship.

It wouldn't change, he knew. The two of them would always remain at his side. There would be occasions when their trust in each other wavered. There always were.

Maybe it was childish to think so, but he sometimes let himself believe that everything would turn out all right in the end, because they would always be there for him.

No matter how much I refuse to admit it.

A sudden trickle of water across the back of his palm brought Tōshirō back to his senses. He shook his head, trying to clear it, while wondering whether the mountain air was getting to him. Or maybe it was just excessive exposure to Matsumoto.

After all, the taichō was known for many things, but not for his sentimentality.

Just then, a glint of light caught his eye. The weak sunlight was reflecting off a groove on the ice that hadn't been there before.

Tōshirō realised, with some surprise, that it was actually part of a carving on the ice, which – considering that it was where his hand had been – had probably been caused by him unconsciously releasing reiatsu when he was thinking.

However, it was only when he backed up a few steps that he saw what the carving actually was.

An expression of satisfaction flashed across his face for a moment.

He finally had an idea.

Thank you, Hinamori.

TWO HOURS LATER…

Matsumoto stifled a yawn.

She had been skiing – or, at least, trying to ski – for nearly three hours, and she was tired. Admittedly, about half that time had been spent "resting", which meant doing other recreational activities that didn't involve ice.

But she still had to admit that her efforts were futile. Ice was her taichō's element, after all. Not hers.

And speaking of taichō…

Even though she knew that it was childish, Matsumoto couldn't help the feeling of resentment at her taichō. He had chased her away after spending one hour looking at the ice – she had no idea why he didn't get bored – and repeatedly ignored her suggestion of using Hyorinmaru to win.

She was convinced that he would beat everyone else hands-down if he did that, and told him so in the most authoritative and convincing manner that she could muster. But he had just continued to walk around the block of ice, muttering something about "unfairness" before shooing her away.

Sometimes, Matsumoto thought that her taichō was just too morally upright for his own good. In her opinion, being so ethical couldn't possibly be good for anyone's sanity.

And yet he didn't have any problems with it. She had given up on understanding why that was so a long, long time ago.

Time to check on him, I guess.

Returning her skis, Matsumoto began the trek back to where she'd left her taichō.

She wondered how he was doing.

He straightened up, fingers slightly numb from the constant contact with the ice.

As he inspected his work, Tōshirō wondered how long it would be before Matsumoto came to see how he was faring.

The question was answered almost immediately.

As her taichō had guessed, Matsumoto was actually quite nearby.

In fact, she was standing beneath a tree right outside the clearing he was in, and had been there for a whole minute. But she didn't see him anywhere, and the block of ice appeared the same to her.

Or was it?

Matsumoto frowned. She wasn't sure, but she thought that the surface of the ice seemed slightly less even than it had just now.

It might have been a trick of the light, though. She stepped forward, moving towards the ice. Only one way to find out.

The fukutaichō let out an involuntary gasp as she saw what was on the ice.

Taichō did this?

She could barely believe her eyes.

The series of carvings extended from one end of the block to the other, depicting various scenes from her taichō's life.

Her gaze travelled from one picture to another. Him, as a child, in Rukongai – talking to his grandmother – playing with a younger Hinamori – a noticeably taller Hinamori, now leaving for the Academy – meeting Matsumoto herself for the first time – joining the Academy – being accepted into the Gotei 13 – training with both Hinamori and Matsumoto – achieving his bankai – and finally, becoming the taichō of the Tenth Division.

"Matsumoto." Her taichō's voice broke her reverie. "You're back."

She whirled around to see him standing barely a foot behind her, concealing his reiatsu as usual. Was it her just imagination, or did he really have a small smile on his face?

"So what do – MATSUMOTO!" Tōshirō let out a yell as his words were cut off by Matsumoto's tight hug. Or as close to one as he could get, considering the sudden lack of air that followed.

Almost reluctantly, she let him go. "Sorry!"

Her voice sounded contrite.

Of course, both of them also knew that the emotion was a hundred percent fake.

"Never mind." He stood beside her for a moment, looking at the ice. Then he began to walk back towards the chalet.

"But taichō, it's so nice! You're going to win this competition–"

He interrupted her. "You promised. Three months of paperwork if I win."

She nodded distractedly. "I didn't know you were so good, taichō! I don't think any of the other taichōs would believe this!"

As she continued to ramble on as they approached the chalet, Matsumoto imagined how her taichō would look like wearing the green scarf that was the first prize. It would really suit him, she knew.

Of course, she wasn't going to tell him that it matched him because she had chosen the gift, after all.

And she definitely wasn't going to tell him that the "mystery gift" that came with the first prize – that, incidentally, had been suggested by her, too – was a hug from her.

There was no way she was going to tell him that.

No. Way.

Ever.

Tōshirō thought, for a moment, that he had seen an extremely evil smile pass over Matsumoto's face

He dismissed it as a figment of his imagination.

After all, what else could she do to him anyway?

END

3rd Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I really need to practice writing this kind of stuff more often. My speed decreased, like, by half when I was writing this. *sigh* I'm kinda tempted to post my original bubbling-with-OOCness-and-crack idea as an omake. Maybe I'll do that someday. Hmm.

4th (and last) Author's Note: I'll be waiting here for your reviews, and thanks to all who have reviewed so far! You guys have made this fic my most-reviewed one so far! (Yes, I'm pathetic, and happy to cross 10 reviews. So what?) More stories are in the pipeline, so feed the author to increase productivity! Thanks again!