One of my very rare holiday stories. As we prepare to bow out 2010, I'd like to take a moment to say a huge thank-you to everyone who has read, reviewed, faved, PMed, Tweeted, and otherwise put up with me over the past twelve months. You guys are amazing and I hope we all have a wonderful year going forward.

I give all of you my best wishes for a Blessed Solstice, Merry Christmas, and a Happy (if somewhat belated) Hanukkah. For all the holidays I have missed and those of you who do not celebrate, may the spirit of the season be with you and bring you all the joy in the world.

SPIRIT OF THE SEASON

It was December, the Winter War so recently passed that many of the injuries were still fading, when the Seireitei awoke to a world of white.

Renji, peering out the window from his bed, blinked a few times, shrugged, and got up to dig the old pair of boots he'd gotten from the Living World out of the bottom of his clothes-chest.

Once attired, he made his way out of his rooms and down to the Sixth Division's main yard, where he found Captain Kuchiki sitting on the veranda outside his office, wrapped in a woolen cloak and watching the snow. The man's usually flinty eyes were oddly soft, his expression peaceful. Wordlessly, Renji sat down beside him, and the pair spent the next hour watching the flakes fall in comfortable silence, until the obligations of their duties dragged both of them inside to attend the paperwork.

Despite the chill, the shutters on the office window were left open, so they could both watch the snow.

Shuuhei and Kira awoke more-or-less simultaneously. Neither was entirely surprised to find themselves half-dressed on the floor of the Ninth Division office, a forest of empty sake bottles having sprouted around them from the polished floor.

When they regained enough of themselves to open the shutters on the office window, it took several minutes of blinking and eye-rubbing and a cautious joint venture into the courtyard to determine that no, this was not merely some heretofore-undiscovered hallucinatory side-effect of hangovers.

Shuuhei mumbled something about getting to the newspaper office, because there had to be a story printed on this, when was the last time it had snowed in Seireitei? And Kira nodded, mumbling something back about returning to his own Squad's barracks, because he was responsible for them at the moment.

Both men were still hesitating when a load of snow slid ponderously off the roof and directly onto their heads.

They popped up seconds later, shaking snow from their eyes and cursing. By chance, they met one another's eyes over the drift of snow between them, and the absurdity of the situation somehow struck all at once.

Shuuhei did eventually go to the newspaper office, and Kira did eventually return to his Squad, but not until they'd both laughed themselves breathless, their stomachs and faces aching with the strain.

Nemu was the only member of the Twelfth Division who saw the snow. She stood, silently entranced by the beauty of the falling crystals, until her Captain, her father, her master, bellowed furiously from within the building for her to get back in here and do your work, you lazy cow!

Nemu went. But not before she had committed the memory of this winter magic to her heart, where it would remain untarnished for as long as she needed to keep it.

The Fifth Division, Captain gone and Lieutenant still healing, stared listlessly at the snow as they continued with their daily routine. It might have gone completely ignored, if one tiny, brave unseated officer hadn't plucked up his courage in the middle of lunchtime, stomped out into the courtyard, and begun rolling a giant snowball.

Then another, which he stacked on top of the first.

Then a third, which he stacked on top of the bottom two and began carving at with his Zanpakutou.

Within a few minutes, he had managed to produce a crude but recognizable snow-statue of Sousuke Aizen. Nodding satisfaction with his work, he took a few steps backwards, collected another handful of snow from the ground, and rolled it into a tight sphere.

And then let fly his snowball directly into snow-Aizen's face.

The head of the snowman was knocked cleanly off and onto the ground, and the spectating Shinigami let out a collective cheer.

From that moment on, it was a stampede into any area of undisturbed snow that could be found, and snow-effigies of the former Captain were sprouting up across the entire Squad grounds, only to be destroyed again by barrages of snowballs, Zanpakutou strikes, and occasional kidou blasts.

By the end of the day, the grounds of the Fifth Division were covered in puddles, scorch marks, small craters, and unrecognizable heaps of blasted snow. The officer from the First Division who was overseeing them surveyed the disaster with raised eyebrows, then turned back to the entirely sheepish assembly of Fifth-Division officers...

...and begun applauding.

At the Fourth Division, Retsu Unohana smiled softly out her window at the sight of the falling snow, then quickly began issuing orders. The Fourth was to prepare for an influx of minor complaints; bruises from falls and snowball fights, chills and frostbite, and begin mixing the medications for the common headcolds that would begin coming in a week or so later.

And once those preparations were carried out, any member of the Fourth Division not attending critical duties was under orders from their Captain to go outside and have fun.

Still smiling, Unohana made her way to the Division's kitchens. After all, any proper snow day required hot chocolate, and she meant to see that there was plenty to go around.

At the First Division, Genryuusei Yamamoto looked out his window and grumbled fiercely into his beard. He was not, and never had been, tolerant of cold and snow, much the same way that ice-wielders were intolerant of excessive heat.

Glaring at the snow outside for another moment, he turned and stomped back to his bed. Lieutenant Sasikabe trailed him, ensured that his Captain was happily situated and did not require anything, then quietly slipped off and out of the Division Headquarters.

He so rarely got a chance to enjoy a snowfall.

Regardless of the snow, Captain Soifon ordered her Squad out for their daily exercises. It was the duty of the Second Division to protect the Seireitei at all costs; a day's lapse could not be forgiven, even for something as rare as snow.

That said, even Soifon was not incapable of ignoring the occasional snowball hurtling across the training grounds when her back was turned.

Kyouraku, sprawled out in his customary perch atop the roof of his office, scraped together a little pile of snow that he could chill his sake-bottle in. It might have been nicer to have the wine warm, especially with snow falling all around him, but who was he to waste such a generously-offered resource? Leaning back, he sipped at his cup and began mentally composing a poem comparing the snowflakes to the color of Jyuu-chan's hair.

He was barely halfway through the bottle when Nanao appeared from within the office, her eyes snapping amethyst fire as she spun to address her useless drunkard of a Captain -

-only to freeze, astonished, at the sight of Shunsui Kyouraku, snowflakes glittering in his dark hair like tiny diamonds, staring up at the sky with an expression of utmost peace on his face.

The tirade that she had been preparing fled her throat. After an awkward moment in which she was quite certain he caught her staring, she cleared her throat and muttered something about not rescuing him if he froze his lazy backside to the roof-tiles.

Kyouraku laughed delightedly and motioned for her to join him. Still arrested by the sight of her Captain in the snow, she actually considered it.

The Eleventh Division spent a long, bewildered moment staring at the snow, taking in the pristine whiteness of the usually dust-choked training yard.

And then Yachiru leaped off Kenpachi's shoulders to land headfirst in the undisturbed whiteness, shrieking about a snowball fight.

The battle eventually encompassed the entire Division, and everyone was thoroughly soaked and completely exhausted by the end of it, but spirits were so high that not even Yumichika could find it in himself to complain about his sodden hair.

Tetsuzaemon hesitated, hovering awkwardly at his Captain's elbow as Komamura tilted his head, surveying the snow-covered yard. It hadn't occurred to him until now that his Captain might never have had the privilege to see snow; it was so rare a phenomenon in Seireitei, and Iba had no idea how often - if ever - it snowed outside the city walls.

After a few moment's consideration, however, Komamura began stripping off his gauntlets and shoulder-armor, leaving his Lieutenant staring with wide-eyed shock as he quietly removed the trappings of his office and set them aside. Even his haori was lifted away, neatly folded and draped carefully over the railing.

Then, while Iba and a good portion of the Division looked on with undisguised curiosity, Komamura grinned broadly, the expression strange on his wolflike face, and leapt into the snow with a happy yip, sending a plume of white crystals into the air.

A gape-mouthed and stuttering Tetsuzaemon was roused from his incredulous stupor only by a carefully-tossed snowball conking him in the head and knocking his sunglasses from his face.

His two third-seats otherwise occupied - having inadvertently challenged one another to a snowman-building competition - Jyuushiro Ukitake slipped carefully from his office, meandering his way with seeming aimlessness through the maze of buildings that made up his Division's compound. As he walked, he greeted every one of his officers that he passed, encouraging them to enjoy the gift of the snow as they could. He passed snow angels, snow fights, and what he was reasonably sure looked like a small catapult being loaded with armloads of snow.

Bemused, he waved to the red-faced and whistling group of young officers clustered around it and continued on.

The markers, small granite obelisks set at the edge of a broad field, each bore a neat cap of snow on their peaks, funny little hats over serious gray faces.

He was not in the least bit surprised to see her there, on her knees in the snow, her head bowed, talking softly to the largest of the obelisks as the snow continued to drift down. Nor, when he stepped up beside her, was she surprised to see him. Smiling gently, he knelt beside her in the snow and settled a hand over her tiny shoulder.

Her responding smile was a little timid, a little sad, but it was the smile of a stronger woman than she'd been those many years ago, when she had lost the man she idolized to the machinations of a Hollow and shown him the mercy of her own blade.

Giving her shoulder a light squeeze, he turned forward, and they prayed together for the departed spirit of Kaien Shiba, the man they'd both held so dear.

Tears were streaking down Matsumoto's face, but they were sharing space with a smile, the first one he had seen on her face since she'd entered the last battle, since she'd wept over Gin's still form that so-short while ago.

Blue eyes, made brilliant by the tears rimming them, turned towards him, and he was rewarded with the sight of Matsumoto's tremulous, wonderful smile.

"Thank you, Captain," she whispered, as the snow continued to drift down. "Thank you so much."

Hitsugaya smiled faintly, nodding his head in acknowledgment. "You're welcome, Matsumoto."