Toshiro Hitsugaya absolutely hated the beach. That and its three main attributes: heat, sun, and sand. Everything that a typical beach has on a clear, sunny day, which was exactly what today was.

The sun, glowing in the sky, beat down on the beach, painting the sand a shimmering gold. Laughter and the splash of water filled the air, emanating from the Soul Reapers who had decided to take a much-deserved day off. Ichigo and his friends were in a lively game of beach volleyball, their shouts and the thud of the ball punctuated by the rhythmic crash of waves. Most of the females were sprawled out on the sand, either taking naps, reading, or basking in warmth.

Amidst the joy, however, one figure remained conspicuously absent from the sun and the sand. Nestled inside of a wooden shack sat Captain Toshiro Hitsugaya. The interior offered a cool refuge from the heat, and Toshiro was sucking on a snow cone, leaning back against the edge of the table. He was clad in a standard green tank top and simple black cargo shorts, well-suited for a day on the beach, even though he would likely never go outside once during the entire day. He occasionally glanced out the opening, a subtle frown tugging onto his lips as he watched the revelry unfold. The boisterous games and the raucous laughter were a stark contrast to his preferred environment of quiet contemplation.

But the tranquility of his shaded sanctuary was about to be shattered.

A figure was walking across the sand toward the shack where Toshiro was stationed. It was you, as expected, as you had been lingering around Toshiro quite often. You had witnessed the Captain's self-imposed exile and had decided that enough was enough. You were determined to drag him, kicking and screaming if necessary, into the fun.

You reached the entrance of the shack, the sudden coolness hitting you like a refreshing wave. You could see Toshiro clearly now, his silver hair gleaming in the light, his back turned and completely oblivious to your arrival. This was going to be interesting.