They had thrown his hat onto the ice, and the pond wasn't completely frozen over. They dared him to go get it, but he needed no encouragement. His mother had knit the hat for him, especially for him, and nobody else. It wasn't a floppy, too-big hand-me-down. It was his own hat, and it fit him perfectly.

He carefully stepped, and slowly, but no amount of care could have kept the thin ice from rupturing beneath his feet. He couldn't swim.

Hitsugaya's hair was frozen white, when they fished him out. But they never found the hat.