"A wife who loses a husband is called a widow. A husband who loses a wife is called a widower. A child who loses his parents is called an orphan. There is no word for a parent who loses a child. That's how awful the loss is." – Jay Neugeboren

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White flakes.

There were white flakes that fell from the sky. Small and fragile, just like the small body they fell upon. They tickled his nose, landing with a cold touch before melting into tiny droplets. He sneezed, blinking his big eyes as they absorbed in everything around him.

"Shiro-chan?"

The large teal irises zoomed in on the pretty lady standing in front of a kitchen area. He yawned, rubbing his sleepy eyes as he attempted to wake up. Her black hair cascaded down her back in smooth streams and her teal eyes shone with unmatched loved for her child. She walked over to him, kneeling down to his eye level and giving him a sweet smile.

"What is it, sweetie?"

"Mom…" he muttered tiredly before pointing at the open window nearby. "Snow…"

"I'm sorry," his mother apologized, moving to close the window that was located right above the couch arm. "I opened it for a bit to cool off the house. I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's okay, Mom," he said cheerfully. "I'm not sleepy."

Much to his dismay, he let out a big yawn. His eyes watered up, causing him to rub at his eyes. His mother poked at his nose, giving him that familiar knowing grin that she always showed whenever she was right about something.

"Go back to sleep, Toshiro," she whispered. "Little children need sleep if they want to grow. You want to be big and strong like your father one day, don't you?"

Toshiro shook his head. "I'm not sleeping until Daddy gets back! I want to see him before I do!"

"You father is still busy, Toshiro. He won't be back until tomorrow morning. If you sleep now, you can see him faster."

He pouted. "Why? He's never home when I wake up anyways…"

Gentle arms encircled him, bringing him close to his mother. "Toshiro, try to understand. It's a big village and it's still relatively new. It needs strong leaders to help guide it on the right path."

"But Mom! Why's it so important that Dad can't even be home most of the time?"

"You'll understand when you're older."

"I'm four! I'm old enough!" he retorted, crossing his arms and scowling at her.

She giggled at him, messing up his spiky snow-white locks. "You need to be much older, Shiro-chan."

Toshiro frowned at her before he sighed. It was always the same conversation. Whenever something complex was talked about and he asked why it was so, she would say "you'll understand when you're older" before she ruffled his hair in a playful manner. Exactly how much older did he need to be? Did he need to be as old as his parents? If so, that would take forever! He was already smarter than most kids his age, which his father was very happy and grateful for, but his mother always treated him like a baby that couldn't understand anything. Uncle Hashirama acted more like a kid than he did and he was the Hokage for kami's sake! He hated being treated so diminutively, but he loved his mother nonetheless. She tended to be right about things in life most of the time.

He lay back down on the couch, his drooping eyes focusing on the ceiling. As much as he resisted, he was slowly losing his battle to stay awake. He felt his blanket being tucked under him and a loving kiss was placed on his forehead.

"Sleep now, my precious winter child."

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Rays of light.

His eyelids fluttered open, the familiar ceiling greeting him. There was perpetual quiet and the sunlight had just begun streaming in through the window. He sat upright, grunting as he stretched his arms and legs. Smacking his lips, he rubbed his eyes to clear his vision before he slid off the plush cushions of the couch. He then stiffened when he felt another chakra in the room; a chakra he immediately recognized. He turned around, a huge grin breaking out on his face. He rushed up to the dining table, pulling on the person's pant leg.

"Dad! Daddy, wake up! It's morning!"

There was an initial groan before his father languidly lifted his head up from his arms. His normally spiky hair had managed to become more unkempt and shaggy than normal. Weary red eyes focused on the tiny child tugging on his clothing. The exhausted expression brightened and a small smile graced his normally stoic features.

"Ah…Good morning, Toshiro. I didn't startle you, did I?"

"Of course not!" Toshiro happily replied. "I sensed that it was you."

"You're beginning to recognize the differences between separate chakras already…That's impressive."

"Dad, why are you sleeping at the table? The table's supposed to be for eating food, not sleeping."

"A table tends to look comfortable when you're exhausted."

"Why were you gone so long? You promised you would help me with my training yesterday, but you never showed."

His father frowned, turning his gaze towards the wall. "I was busy…"

"You always say that!" Toshiro snapped. "Is your work really that important?"

"It is very important. It's crucial to the village as a whole."

"Can't you forget about the village for once? You're never home anymore…" His tiny arms wrapped around his father's leg. "I've missed you."

Toshiro felt strong hands grasp his small form, lifting him up before setting him on his father's knees. He looked up into his dad's red eyes, finding them filled with remorse.

"Forgive me, Toshiro. I know I haven't been consistent with my promises, but believe me; I'm trying. It's hard to balance the importance of family with the welfare of Konoha."

"I don't mind that Konoha is important…" Toshiro growled. "I just wish someone else other than you would do the work. What are Uncle Hashi and Madara-sama doing while you do that stuff?"

"Your uncle has been just as busy as I have. And the Uchiha…he's been focused on other things."

"Sure doesn't look that way a lot of the time."

His father laughed. "That is very true, considering how much anija attempts to avoid it. However, as observant as you are for your age, you haven't seen the mountains of paperwork he has to do on a daily basis."

Toshiro gaped. "You mean Uncle Hashi actually does something!? I thought he just sat around all day doing nothing!"

"Yes. Your uncle actually does productive work when you're not looking."

He smiled at his dad. "I bet you're always trying to get him to do it though; right, Daddy?"

"Unfortunately, yes," his father sighed. "I hope you never have to deal with lazy subordinates when you're older, Toshiro."

"How much older do I have to be?"

"Much older."

"That's what Mom always says. Why do you two always say that?"

"We say it because it's true."

Toshiro stuck his tongue out at his dad, who merely gave him a disapproving frown in return. The white-haired child then regretted his action when he saw that expression on his father's face. He gave the elder man an apologetic look. He knew better than to encourage his father's wrath. It was a scary experience to endure.

"You are staying home today though, aren't you?" Toshiro asked hopefully. "You promised to show me the Water Dragon Jutsu."

"You want me to do it now?"

"Yes, now! Please! If you don't, it'll be another month before I get to see it!"

"Very well. I can show you if you're that eager."

"Finally!" Toshiro cheered, wrapping his arms around his father's neck in a tight grip. "Thank you!"

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Blissful awe.

He watched on as the majestic figure of a dragon swirled around his father's form. The water danced before his eyes. No matter what his father did in terms of Water Style ninjutsu, it always left Toshiro mesmerized. It always made him want to learn more from his dad. He then found himself scowling at the thought that his dad would be going back to work the next day.

He let out a surprised yell when felt himself getting drenched. He sputtered, coughing out water that had entered his mouth. He shook his head to rid himself of excess liquid from his hair. He heard a laugh from nearby. He looked up, finding his father giving him a mischievous smirk.

"Hey, no sneak attacks! That wasn't fair!" Toshiro exclaimed.

"If you want to be a shinobi, you must always be alert to your surroundings," his dad said, ruffling up his wet hair. "That's something you still lack, Toshiro."

"I know…" Toshiro muttered, his eyes downcast. "I'm trying."

"Toshiro."

The white-haired child perked up, looking up into his father's deep red eyes. He never knew what his dad was thinking behind those red pools. He was almost always thinking about something and it made Toshiro curious. What did his father think about?

"Why do you want to be a shinobi?"

Toshiro tilted his head in confusion. "What do you mean? I think it's rather obvious."

"Oh? You think so?"

"Yeah," he grinned. "I want to be a shinboi so I can be just like you, Dad. I want that more than anything. I want to be strong, so I can protect our family and our home. I want to try to be Hokage one day too! Uncle Hashirama can't stay Hokage forever. He's gonna get old eventually. Even if I don't become Hokage, it's still an honor to serve as a Leaf shinobi, isn't it?"

His father shook his head. "You have a long way to go if you ever want to reach the title of Hokage, my son."

"I know. That's why I want to train with you as much as I can. You know a lot of jutsu and even created a few yourself!"

"You have your mother's willfulness, that's for sure," his dad sighed, running a hand through his shaggy white locks.

"I thought it was better to aim high and miss than to aim low and not put any effort into it?"

"There is such a thing as overachievement."

"I'm not overachieving anything! I know I'll get as strong as you one day. I just need to grow a bit taller before I do…"

"You still have time before that happens. Until then, enjoy your childhood while you can."

Toshiro lowered his head and frowned. "I'd enjoy it more if you were there more often…"

His father gave him a remorseful look. "Toshiro…"

"Say, do you think you can teach me that jutsu?" Toshiro suddenly asked.

His father's eyes widened. "You mean the Water Dragon Jutsu?"

Toshiro nodded eagerly. "Yeah! I loved it! I really want to learn it!"

"That jutsu is far too advanced for someone at your level."

"Nothing's too advanced for me. You should know that by now, Dad."

"It's a B-rank jutsu that has a maximum of forty-four hand seals. You must perform them in a specific order exactly; otherwise, the jutsu will fail."

"Pleeeeeeeeeease, Dad? I don't really ask for much from you."

"What did I just say about overachievement? I can teach you jutsu, but I'm not starting off with something as complex as the Water Dragon Jutsu."

"Fine," Toshiro huffed. "If you say so, Dad. But mark my words, I will learn it eventually!"

"I'll be looking forward to when you do."

Toshiro laughed, smiling as he brushed his dripping bangs out of his face. He let out a disgruntled sound when he felt a towel scrub at his body, soaking up the water that had clung to his form. He peeked through the cloth, spotting his father smiling at him in the way he always did when the two of them were alone. His father rarely smiled around other people. It made Toshiro feel special that those smiles were almost always directed at him or his mother.

"I think that's enough entertainment for one day," his dad said, picking up Toshiro and holding him in his arms. "Wouldn't you agree, Toshiro?"

"Not really."

"Too bad. What I say goes."

"No fair, Dad! Can't you show me some more jutsu? Please?"

"Maybe later."

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Silent tears.

Those were things he thought shinobi were never supposed to shed. Shinobi were supposed to hold back their emotions. They were supposed to be infallible. Toshiro always believed his father to be the epitome of how shinboi should act: calm, calculating, and deadly powerful. So why?

Why was his father crying?

Toshiro stood in the doorway, seeing his father at the table with a sake cup located not too far away. He had been there all night as far as Toshiro knew. He knew something really bad must have happened. His dad wouldn't be acting like this if it wasn't. He could only speculate what was going on. He carefully plodded up to this father, tugging on his pant leg.

"Dad? Can you please tell me what happened?"

His dad slowly lifted his head, looking at Toshiro with raw red eyes. He maneuvered off the chair, kneeling down to his son's level. He gently pulled Toshiro in a tight embrace. The unease Toshiro felt only intensified when he could feel his father trembling slightly.

"Your mother…was killed."

Toshiro felt his heart stop in his chest for a good second. A lump formed in his throat as his mind processed the words. Killed. His mom was gone. Dead. He'd never see her beaming face again. She'd never be there in the mornings to serve him omelets covered in grated daikon. She would never bid him goodnight with a kiss and be there to comfort him again. His eyesight blurred before tears trailed down his face, soaking the shirt his face was pressed against. His grip on his father increased as the pain in his chest grew. He tried to hold back the emotions. Shinobi showed no emotions. A sob escaped his throat despite his inner protests. He soon broke down and began crying into his father's shoulder. A hand rubbed against his back, a chin resting on his head.

"Why…?" he barely managed to say through his hiccups.

"The life of a shinobi is always filled with dangers. Your mother knew that any day she could die because of that. She died a noble death protecting the village she cared about. In a way, she was protecting you too."

Toshiro pulled away, looking up at his father's face with tear-filled eyes. "But why Mom!? Why couldn't it have been someone else!?"

"If it was someone else, they would be experiencing the exact same pain you and I are feeling now," his dad explained.

Toshiro remained quiet, sniffling as he clutched his father's shirt.

"Toshiro, if you become a shinobi, you will be responsible for your life and as well as the lives of your comrades. Even if you do become a great shinobi, you could still die. Is that truly what you want?"

Toshiro's grip increased. He pulled away from his dad, looking him in the eyes. He wiped away his tears before a determined look crossed his face.

"I will become a shinobi. I'll become strong and I'll find some way to stop the fighting. You, Mom, Uncle Hashi; you all mean everything to me. If you die…"

"I'm not going to die, Toshiro."

"You better not die!" Toshiro snapped, more tears trailing down his face. "Dad, I don't…I don't want to lose you too."

"I won't die," his father swore, tightening his hold on his son. "I promise you that."

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Crawling years.

He huffed to himself when he saw the line his dad had made against the wood support of the walls. He felt his dad ruffle his hair as he looked at the line in comparison with the other markers on the corner of the wall. He hadn't grown much in the past two years. His father was six feet tall! The top of his hair barely reached his dad's waist! Why was he not getting any sort of growth spurts yet!?

"When am I going to get taller!?" he irritably snapped.

"You'll get there," his father said. "Why are you so fixated on height?"

"Because everyone at the academy makes fun of me because I'm the shortest one in class. They don't care if I'm the nephew of the Hokage; all they care is that I'm the perfect one to pick on."

"They've been teasing you?"

"My height, my hair, my personality, my skills…the whole nine yards."

"And you haven't told me this sooner because…?"

Toshiro fidgeted under his father's eyes, knowing those red irises were piercing through to his soul.

"I wanted to handle it on my own," Toshiro explained in a soft voice. "If I can't deal with my own personal problems, how can I call myself a future shinobi?"

"Toshiro, I know I said it's important for you to be able to hold your own as a shinobi, but sometimes it's necessary to ask for help from others."

"Like the teachers are going to do anything about it."

"I didn't mean the teachers."

Toshiro perked up, looking at his father's face. "Dad?"

"No matter what people say about you, be proud of who you are," his father said. "You are my son. I know you'll become a warrior like no other one day."

Toshiro smiled lightly. "Thank you, Dad…I'll try to live up to you."

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Ominous words.

"Hokage-sama has fallen in battle."

Toshiro bit his lip, but kept his tears in check. Uncle Hashirama was dead? He was the Hokage. He wasn't supposed to die. Who would protect the village?

Even though he hated how his uncle treated him like a two-year-old, Hashirama was still family. He was one of the people he had wanted to protect when he became more skilled. Now he would never get that chance. His uncle was gone. He would no longer call him "Shiro-chan" and offer him sweets in an annoying fashion. He would never see him have his massive mood swings again.

"It is the start of a war between villages. We need your guidance now more than ever. As his brother, you're the prime candidate to take over. Tobirama-sama…will you take your brother's place and serve as the Second Hokage?"

Toshiro watched his dad, seeing no expression cross his face when he was told of the fate of his brother. He could see sorrow in his father's eyes, but determination as well. He knew what his answer would be before the words even left his mouth.

Toshiro hung his head low, knowing he'd be losing his father for good.

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Loneliness.

There was no pleasant greeting. There was no warm welcome. There was no life in the house other than him. Two years had passed since his uncle's death. Eight years old, yet he already experienced the loss of all those he cherished. His mother was dead, his uncle was dead, and his father no longer had anytime to associate with him. His dad might as well have been dead to him.

He was silent as he took off his shoes. The silence was something he had gotten used to. No one other than his father ever understood him. He never got along with other children his age. As his prodigious skills progressed, the other students began to isolate him. Some were even afraid of him. He never knew why they were frightened of him; he hadn't done anything to them. He couldn't ask his father something as trivial as that since he was always so busy.

He missed his dad dearly.

But as the Hokage, the village came first over family. That was what it meant to be Hokage.

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Cold.

He didn't know how or when it happened, but he found himself far away from home when he woke up. He was surrounded by ninja he did not know. He panicked, yet he had somehow escaped from that prison. They hadn't expected a child his age to be as skilled as he was. Should they have expected anything less from the son of the Second Hokage? They were asking for it for underestimating him.

The snow swirled around him as he trekked through the slush. It was freezing. Chills raked his body and he couldn't feel his fingers or toes. Why did he have to be kidnapped? What was Kirigakure trying to accomplish with taking him? Absolutely nothing. His father wouldn't come for him. His one life placed against the many in Konoha; it was obvious which choice would be made.

Shinobi endure to achieve their goals; that was what his uncle had told him. He would do so for as long as he could. His goal was to survive; to survive and see his father again.

His legs failed him. He fell into the snow. He was so cold. Too cold.

He wanted to sleep.

So he did.

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Lingering regrets.

When he awoke, he found a chain attached to his chest. The cold no longer bothered him. He also found another him lying in the snow.

That's when he realized what had happened.

He sat there, looking over his own corpse and wondering what it was he should do. Should he stay put or wander off? He was no longer among the living. What was his purpose? Why had he not fully passed on?

He was brought out of his thoughts when he saw a figure dash through the snow. Familiar blue armor stuck out against the blank landscape. His eyes widened, recognizing the person as soon as they came up to his dead body. His body was turned over, revealing a pale and lifeless face to the one who looked on. Trembling hands placed themselves against his neck and chest. There was no sign of life.

This was third time in his life he had seen his dad shed tears.

His father cradled his corpse to his chest, his lower lip quivering from the raging emotions that burned inside him. He wanted to reach out to the grieving man. He wanted to comfort him and tell him he didn't blame him or hate him for not being there. He was the Second Hokage, but he was still his father. He meant everything to him.

Agonized screaming.

Teal eyes snapped open. A surprised shriek sounded out before he heard a crash. He snapped his attention to the busty woman and the scattered papers on the floor. He felt a vein pulse in his forehead as he clenched his fist.

"Matsumoto!" he yelled.

"Sorry, Captain!" Rangiku apologized, quickly gathering up the paperwork. "I was trying to be quiet, but I tripped!"

"Don't give me excuses," he snapped. "There's nothing there for you to trip on. You went out drinking with Hisagi and Abarai again and were trying to sneak back in here to hide the paperwork you haven't done; am I wrong?"

"Eh…"

"MATSUMOTO!"

"No, wait! Let me explain!" Rangiku quickly replied. "I saw you napping, but you were tossing and turning like you were having a nightmare. I was going to do paperwork, but I was concerned about you. So I decided to check on you. I wasn't expecting you to wake up so suddenly."

"It's a mediocre alibi, but I'm not convinced about the working part," Toshiro growled.

Rangiku pouted. "You don't trust me?"

"Not on your life."

"Well, can you at least remember what it was that you were dreaming about?"

Toshiro was silent, thinking back to the vivid images he had seen. Looking back on it now, he couldn't remember anything that had happened. All that remained…was the tormented cries of someone who had lost someone precious to them.

He'd never forget that voice.

Because Toshiro Hitsugaya looks like he could potentially be Tobirama Senju's son. Sue me. I blame the PBB for giving me ideas like this. They're too much alike to NOT be related in some way! I'm unsure whether to leave this as a one-shot or make it into a two or three-shot. For now, I'll leave it as is…unless enough people want me to expand on it.

Done out of my love for two of our favorite white-haired grumpy warriors!