Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Of Violence ❯ Chapter 20: Of Tears ( Chapter 22 )

a/n: I was pleasantly surprised by the response to last chapter and I promise, I will prove your trust in me. I'm sorry, but there's still a bit of sadness before the happy end. And one more bump in the road before the sailing turns smooth.

 

I recommend listening to “Guardian Angel” by Red Jumpsuit Apparatus when reading this, as I did while writing it.

 

This part hurt me to write as much as it hurts to read. And even when I read over it, I feel the pain in my chest. But I cannot just skip over these reactions either, so please bear with me.

 

I know nothing about Japanese funerals, or funerals in general, so I made it up as I was going along. Hopefully, it contains some element of realism.

 

Of Violence

Chapter Twenty: Of Tears

 

He was dragging his steps, and Ichigo knew it. But try as he might, he couldn't force himself to lift his feet any quicker. His entire body felt weighted down, pushed by some greater force than his own strength. His eyes were red and raw, and it didn't help that he was now trapped within a gigai. It was a necessity for being in Karakura, where his children were currently within his sister's care.

 

He couldn't put it off any longer. If he had felt Rukia's death, then he knew his spiritually aware children had to have felt something as well. They were most likely confused and upset, worried about their father who hadn't mentioned any sort of vacation to Karakura. And the last thing he wanted to do was upset his kids, especially Syaoran who was still getting over the lingering traces of her pneumonia.

 

Ichigo's only consolation was that he wasn't alone. In unspoken agreement, Byakuya had come with him, and he was a silent, comforting presence at Ichigo's side. He drew strength from Byakuya's attendance. And for just a moment, he was able to handle the thoughts skittering across his mind.

 

His brother-in-law had his own reasons for leaving Soul Society at the moment. Ichigo knew he was avoiding the summons of the Kuchiki clan, considering his nieces and nephews far more important than bureaucratic pandering. He didn't blame Byakuya one bit. The Head of the Kuchiki Clan was sometimes too heavy a burden for his friend to bear.

 

He bit back on the disconsolate sigh that threatened to spill from his lips and betray everything he was trying to maintain and lifted his gaze. His childhood was right before him, lights cheerily shining behind familiar curtains and filling his heart with some comfort. There was no feeling like coming home. But he still felt the place beside him where Rukia usually stood that much emptier.

 

Yet, on his other side, there was another presence. One that he couldn't entirely ignore.

 

Ichigo felt the most sudden and strangest urge to grab Byakuya's hand and entangle their fingers together. His own hand even twitched at the abrupt thought. He held back from following through with the action, however, and focused his attention back on the house. He still felt grey eyes watching him.

 

Squaring his shoulders with more assurance than he actually felt, Ichigo strode up to the front walk. The light came on automatically as he neared, bathing the lawn in an orange glow. The door opened before Ichigo could even begin to debate between pulling out the key or knocking, and bright light revealed Yuzu. Just past her, Ichigo could hear and sense his father and Karin. The worry emanating from the house was practically palpable.

 

“Ichi-nii,” Yuzu murmured sympathetically and stepped aside to let him in. “I'm so sorry.”

 

The strength in his shoulders sagged just a bit more as Ichigo entered his childhood home, familiar sights and smells offering little comfort. And then, he was being wrapped in his sister's arms, her sympathy not unexpected. It took every effort not to let the tears fall again, but they banked behind his eyelids.

 

“I'm okay,” he managed to say gruffly, but it was a lie, and the both of them knew it. “I just... I'm okay.”

 

She pulled back and looked into his face, disbelieving but choosing to let him hold onto that minor untruth if it helped with the pain. And then, her gaze slipped past him to Byakuya, sympathy deepening. Yuzu went past him and enveloped Byakuya in a hug that the Kuchiki noble didn't dare try to escape.

 

“Yuzu, is that...” Karin came around the corner from the hallway, and her question died on her lips as she caught sight of her brother. “Ichi-nii.”

 

He felt really, really tired at the sight of the sympathy on her face. He didn't mind so much since she was his sister, but he knew he would have to start expecting this from everyone. The condolences and the pity. The rumors would start again, and he doubted that people would hold back now that Rukia was gone. The uncomplimentary comments that had been spreading would only get worse.

 

“Hey.” He gave the thinnest and tightest smile his sister had probably ever seen. “Are Kaien and Syaoran awake?”

 

Karin nodded, taking the few steps down the hall that separated them. “They're with Goat-Face in the kitchen. He's making cocoa.” She made a face that expressed how fond they all were of his father's hot chocolate, but Ichigo couldn't even manage a hint of a chuckle at the old family joke.

 

Isshin's hot cocoa was only marginally more edible than Urahara's tea, and that was saying something. Even Yama-jii with his iron stomach wouldn't touch the stuff.

 

Behind them, Yuzu had finally released Byakuya and was subtly wiping her face. “They didn't want to go to sleep until they saw you,” she explained. “Especially after we told them you were coming.”

 

Ichigo sighed, feeling his heart clench again. “Thanks. I don't know what I'd do without you guys,” he replied, the surge of affection for his family momentarily combating the pain inside of him.

 

He left Byakuya with his sisters and moved further into his childhood home, following the sound of voices. First, Syaoran and then Kaien followed by Isshin's usual bluster. The old man's teasing sounded forced, as though he were trying to make everything seem alright when it clearly wasn't. Ichigo might have just loved him for that.

 

Rounding the corner, he stood in the doorway of the kitchen and looked in at the sight. Isshin was standing at the counter, back to the doorway and mixing up three cups as he looked down at the two children. By the expressions on their faces, however, they didn't seem to be buying his assurances that the “Isshin-Brand-Hot-Chocolate-of-Love” was delicious. In fact, Kaien had that predictably contentious look on his face.

 

He watched for several long moments, wanting them to enjoy a moment of happiness, even if it was partially forced. And then, he spoke to gather their attention.

 

“I wouldn't taste it either,” he said, attempting humor that failed miserably. “It's been known to leave you bedridden for days.”

 

Kaien and Syaoran whirled at the sound of his voice, and Ichigo sucked in a breath at just the sight of them. In spite the teasing of their grandfather, it was clear that they were just faking as well. He could easily read the confusion and the worry in their faces. He could see the subtly false way Kaien was holding himself proud and tall and saw the edge that Syaoran hovered on, a definite sheen behind her eyes.

 

They knew something had happened.

 

“Tou-chan.” Syaoran immediately rushed to meet him, wrapping her arms around his belly and burying her face in his shirt. Whatever else she said was muffled by the cotton.

 

He placed his hand on her hair and soothed it down, only faintly noticing that it was shaking. “Hey, sweetie,” he murmured and hated himself for being unable to control the tremor in his voice.

 

He lifted his gaze to Kaien, his son watching him with a mixture of emotions. Ichigo crossed the floor at a much slower pace than his sister until he stood just before his father, arms folded over his chest. Determination was writ into his features as he met Ichigo's gaze evenly, looking far too old for his age.

 

“Where's okaa-san?” he demanded, as if he had already known all along what was going on and was waiting for his father to confirm it. But behind the fake bravado, Ichigo could see the fear and the sorrow.

 

Syaoran's fingers tightened in their grip on the back of Ichigo's shirt, saying nothing further. He felt her tears dampening the fabric, and it was very nearly his undoing.

 

Ichigo felt his breath hitch, and the words locked in his throat. He reached forward, grabbing Kaien with his free hand and pulling his son towards him. Kaien reached up, grasping onto his father and forcing his head back to look up at Ichigo. If he noticed his sister's silent weeping, the boy didn't say anything. But the fear was in his eyes already, and despite his greatest efforts, they too were growing moist with unshed tears.

 

“Tou-san!” Kaien insisted, demanding answers that Ichigo hurt too much to give. But he had to because this was something he couldn't push off telling them. He couldn't evade this question.

 

He opened his mouth to speak, but only one phrase managed to emerge.

 

“I'm sorry,” Ichigo croaked, the words dry and raspy and oh-so painful. “I'm so sorry.”

 

Syaoran's trembling became that much more apparent as she wiped her face on his shirt, though the tears continued to flow. He wouldn't be surprised if his clothing ripped from the force of her grip, little hiccuping sobs emerging from her silent figure. Kaien's response was much more demonstrative as he both froze and then jerked free from his father's hold, the emotions tearing at him.

 

“Why are you sorry?” he nearly shouted, hands balled into small fists. “Where is kaa-chan? Where is she?” Each question was practically frantic, and his voice broke on the last one as his lower lip trembled.

 

Ichigo looked at his son, eyes red-rimmed, and felt every ounce of his own agony crashing over him. “She's gone, Kaien,” he said as gently as possible and felt the warmth trickle down his cheeks. “She's gone.”

 

His son was far too old to not know what his father meant. Blue eyes the same damn shade as his mother's widened before he reacted in a way that Ichigo had expected. The wild swing he took at his father was way off course and never had chance of hitting him with the tears blinding his sight.

 

“It's not true,” Kaien moaned sorrowfully, collapsing forward into his father's free arm. “It's not true. It's not.” His voice cracked again, and the last hold cracked into pieces, the tears falling all too freely now.

 

Ichigo caught him before he could hit the ground and pulled Kaien into his hold, right next to his sister. Kaien threw a few more weak punches, fists slamming against his father's unyielding chest, before he succumbed to the embrace. All attempts at dignity were thrown aside as he began to weep without holding back.

 

The guilt grew stronger, and Ichigo felt like a terrible parent as he tried to soothe his children with his own love and affection alone. But it clearly wasn't enough by the force of their sobbing, and he had never felt more helpless in his entire life. Their grief was tearing him apart.

 

He felt Byakuya's presence before he saw him and looked up to find the Kuchiki heir entering the kitchen. His father had vanished, likely to speak with Yuzu and Karin, but Ichigo scarcely paid that any attention. He met Byakuya's eyes briefly and helplessly before the other man placed his hands against Syaoran and Kaien's backs.

 

Almost immediately, Syaoran loosed herself from her strangle hold on her father and threw herself at her uncle, wrapping her arms around his neck. Somehow, he wasn't surprised. She had been more and more clinging to Byakuya lately, going to him for comfort when she used to go to her father. Byakuya was startled for all of a second before he enclosed his niece in his arms and smoothed down her hair, trying his best at a comfort he wasn't sure how to give.

 

“I'm sorry,” Ichigo murmured again because that was all he could say to them. “I'm so sorry.” He rocked Kaien in his hold, wishing he had the power to go back and change time, to fix this.

 

He hadn't protected her as he had promised himself he always would. Ichigo knew that logically he hadn't been there and that he couldn't have done so. He knew that Rukia had always been bound and determined to live by her own strength. That she would have been angered by him even suggesting she needed his protection. Yet, he still felt as if he had failed his children in some way.

 

Ichigo closed his eyes and simply endured, locking down on his own pain for the sake of absorbing his children's. It didn't help that Rukia's presence had been lessening in their lives before her death. Now, they would never see her again, and that pain couldn't easily be cast aside. They were too young for this, and in that moment, Ichigo felt every reminder of losing his own mother. He could sympathize with them more than anyone, as if the past had only served to repeat itself.

 

“...not... fair...”

 

Kaien's mumble, nearly swallowed by the fabric of Ichigo's shirt. And his continued snuffling, nearly made his father start.

 

Unbidden, he recalled a young boy standing on the edge of a river, searching endlessly for a mother who wasn't coming home. He remembered consuming feelings of guilt and the pain that came with hiding what had felt like the utter truth. And he remembered trying to lock it all inside just to save those around him from his own misery.

 

He refused to let either Kaien or Syaoran suffer the same way he had, even if it meant he had to bear it all on his own. They were lucky in that they already understood the existence of Hollows and that they wouldn't be confused. And they were also fortunate that they hadn't had to witness it with their own eyes. Ichigo was so very grateful for that small blessing.

 

He lowered his head and pressed Kaien close to his chest. “No, it's not,” he agreed, keeping the lecture about life not being so to himself for now. “It's not at all.”

 

Banishing thoughts of the past from his mind since he didn't need more sorrow on top of the misery he already felt, Ichigo offered his comfort to his children. His hand continued a consoling rub across Kaien's back. And he endured the sound of Syaoran's quiet whimpers.

 

They remained in the kitchen like that for a long time, the smell of Isshin's failed hot chocolate lingering in the air. Ichigo didn't dare move until he felt Kaien's sobbing trickle down to sniffing and hiccuping. Proving that he was running low on tears, though his grief remained strong. The strong grip he had on his father's shirt lessened just slightly, and Ichigo took that as a chance to move him somewhere more comfortable.

 

He gently scooped his son into his arms, ignoring his faint murmur of protest. Beside him, Byakuya copying his motions. For the first time in a long while, Kaien curled close to him as Ichigo carried him up the stairs. He had exhausted himself with his tears, and the sight of his dampened face nearly set Ichigo off again.

 

Upstairs, he located the room that Kaien and Syaoran were sharing and gently lowered his son to the bed. He was surprised when hands curled into his shirt and refused to let go, asking without words for his father to stay. Understandable considering he had just lost his mother. Kaien probably feared losing anyone else important to him.

 

It wasn't even a choice to Ichigo. He obediently lowered himself to the bed beside his son, letting Kaien curl up beside him. One arm settled around the boy and the other curled around Syaoran as Byakuya laid her down on his other side. He was reminded of the night a few months ago when they had both come to the bed with him for his own comfort. Things certainly had come full circle.

 

Exhaustion was sinking its claws into Ichigo as well, trying to drag him under its unwavering tide. He looked up at Byakuya, the other man's face unreadable. But from the other room, a new noise joined the atmosphere. That of Mikan and Ryuunosuke waking, and they were not happy about it. Ichigo had the suspicion that they were somewhat aware of the distress threading through their family.

 

He heard footsteps down the hall, someone responding to the twins' cry, and realized that it was Yuzu, her soft voice immediately following. But with an exchange of glances between Ichigo and Byakuya, the elder male left the room as quietly as he had entered to see to the twins. Ichigo let himself relax then, focusing on his eldest children.

 

They were still softly crying as he held them, but fatigue was pulling at them more strongly than at himself. He murmured nonsense soothing words under his breath that they probably didn't hear but just the sound of his voice was comfort enough. The tears eventually dried as his children succumbed to the tug of sleep, clinging tightly to his side.

 

Only then did Ichigo allow himself to let go. The emotions of the day and the feelings crashed over him. The events flooded his mind, reminding him over and over just who he had lost. He held his children that much tighter without hurting them and let the sobs come, though they were quiet and lacking in movement.

 

He wondered how he was going to do it. True, he wasn't alone in this. And sure, he had more help than he knew what to do with. But he couldn't bear to see his children in pain, and this was certainly agonizing. Not to mention the twins, who had never even gotten a chance to truly know their mother before she was cruelly taken from them.

 

Kaien was absolutely right. It really wasn't fair. But if he were to be honest with himself, nothing in Ichigo's life had ever been. Not four decades ago and certainly not now. He had always managed to pick himself up and trudge onwards, and Ichigo supposed that he would have to do again and now. That didn't make the pain any less.

 

Gently rubbing his children's back, Ichigo urged them into a deeper, more relaxing sleep. And prayed that their dreams weren't haunted by nightmares.

 

Despite the emotions running ragged through him, Ichigo eventually fell asleep as well. And he was glad for the lack of dreams. He didn't want to be tortured by either happy memories or cruel nightmares of Rukia's death. The complete darkness was most welcome, and it was sometime later that he awoke, though he wasn't entirely sure what had disturbed him from his sleep.

 

Frowning, he glanced at his children. Syaoran and Kaien were deep into sleep, still too worn out to do much more than that. With great care, Ichigo extricated himself from the bed. He noted with much fondness that they unconsciously reached for each other. For once, not arguing but getting along as siblings should. It tugged at his heart.

 

Smiling to himself at the endearing sight, he carefully reached for the blanket folded at the end of the bed and draped it over their sleeping forms. It wouldn't do for Syaoran to have a relapse. Ichigo pressed a kiss to their foreheads, feeling the burdens weighing heavy on his heart. But sleep was now the last thing on his mind.

 

He quietly left the room, pulling the door behind him but leaving it open enough to let in a wide sliver of light. Syaoran was still sometimes frightened of waking up in complete darkness. With that, he stepped across the hall to the room the twins were currently occupying, taking momentary refuge in Isshin's room. Knowing the old man, he was either at the geta-boushi's or snoring away on the couch downstairs, forcing Ichigo to find his own place to sleep. Like the closet in his former bedroom.

 

He stilled at the thought, standing in the threshold of the doorway, memories crashing over him. Of Rukia sleeping in his closet like it was her own personal bedroom. He could still remember the sound of her damned Shinigami phone chirping at all hours of the night. Or his sister's complains that her clothes were disappearing. Or her popping out at him from nowhere just when he thought he was alone.

 

Crack.

 

It was only a faint sound, but it broke Ichigo from the memories. He blinked and looked around, only to notice that the grip he'd had on the door frame had been less than safe. He had somehow managed to crack the wood in just a gigai. He was pretty certain he had the geta-boushi to blame for making one that was slightly less than human. Or perhaps his madly swirling reiatsu had something to do with it.

 

Shaking his head, Ichigo forced himself to release the frame and followed through with his original plan. He stepped into the room and to the crib that had been set up, always pulled out of storage whenever he came visiting. Karin liked to joke that he never came without bringing some new son or daughter.

 

Mikan and Ryuunosuke were asleep, as they always seemed to be lately when he had chance to see them. Ichigo resolved in that moment to spend more time with them awake. He didn't want to seem like he was neglecting his children. Infants were so impressionable, and the last thing he wanted was for them to grow up without the feeling of being cared for. He loved them too much for that.

 

He reached down and gently stroked their soft cheeks, careful not to wake them. They were so innocent at this age, so untouched by the pain that was rippling through their family. And Ichigo was glad that at least someone was spared that agony, even if they would feel it to a smaller extent when they were older. Perhaps by then, he would know the words and be able to explain things better.

 

Mikan didn't stir at his touch, but Ryuu turned his head, nuzzling his father's chin. It was a sight that nearly made him tear up again, but he held it down, instead concentrating on the loving swell in his heart. By kami, he loved his children. He didn't know what he'd do without him.

 

Leaning on the crib, he smiled down at the young twins. “I'm sorry,” he whispered, not letting his voice carry any further than the door. “You won't get to know what a great person your kaa-chan was. She loved you guys.”

 

Neither twin stirred at the admission, not that he expected them to. Feeling choked, he leaned over and kissed each on their foreheads. He lingered for a few minutes more and watched over them as though guarding their sleep before he allowed himself to leave. He left the door open behind him, always careful to listen and then headed downstairs.

 

The house was utterly silent around him, and a quick glance through the kitchen window showed that it was fully dark outside. Street lamps gave him glimpses of an empty street. It was late enough that most of the neighborhood was asleep, which meant that his household likely was as well. Ichigo, however, had no wish to return to slumber.

 

He didn't really have a destination in mind, roaming through the house for the sake of roaming. But as he passed the den, he caught sight of a lone figure and paused. Through the darkness of the room, he saw the door to the backyard pushed slightly open. And in the gap, he could see someone sitting on the back porch. A flutter of long black hair identified the individual.

 

Padding silently through the room, Ichigo stepped up the door and peered through the gap, admittedly spying just a bit. Byakuya was merely sitting there, staring at the bowl in his hand filled with a clear liquid. Beside him, a sake bottle rested innocuously. Byakuya didn't even appear to be drinking, simply gazing into it as though it held the answers.

 

Shifting his position, Ichigo was granted a glimpse of the noble's profile and nearly gasped at what he saw. His heart gave a flutter of hurt as he caught the wet tracks glistening down Byakuya's cheeks. It wasn't the flooding weep of his children but a slow slog through sorrow. And Byakuya, the stubborn bastard, was facing it alone. Ichigo should have known to expect such behavior.

 

Firming his lips, Ichigo didn't even have to think about his next move. He slid the door open with enough room for him to ease out and then closed it behind him. The sound attracted Byakuya's attention, and the noble turned to look up at him.

 

“Ichigo, what...?” His question died on his lips as Ichigo lowered himself to the porch behind Byakuya and wrapped his arms around the older man.

 

“I know we haven't officially talked yet,” Ichigo whispered, encircling his arms loosely around Byakuya and resting them gently against his stomach. “But just let me do this for you.”

 

It hadn't even required much thought on his part. He had just reacted and done this for his friend. Byakuya who had been by his side and hadn't once cried but had been supporting him, even though he had to have been hurting himself. First Hisana and then Rukia, as though the two sisters were fated to provide him with so much pain. Or worse, as if he were constantly doomed to lose those important to him.

 

If Byakuya'd had any intention to argue, he clamped down on it the moment Ichigo spoke. Instead, he relaxed into the embrace and lowered his head, focusing his gaze back on the cup of sake. His fingers tightened around the porcelain, and the still untouched alcohol wavered.

 

“I should be the one comforting you,” Byakuya said softly, as though reprimanding himself for what he considered a slight on his part.

 

“And you have,” Ichigo assured him and set his chin on Byakuya's shoulder, selfishly stealing some of the other man's warmth. “Just by being here. But you know, it's okay to be human, even if you are the great Kuchiki Byakuya-sama.”

 

He sensed more than saw the small smile that flitted to Byakuya's lips. His grip on his sake bowl faltered as he ducked his head and brought it to his lips, taking a small sip of the alcohol. It was then that Ichigo felt the slight tremor to Byakuya's shoulders, and he just knew that the noble was crying. Though it was difficult to see with the veil his long hair created around his face.

 

Ichigo swallowed thickly, the sight of a man as strong as Byakuya taken down by grief something that was going to lodge inside of him for a long time. Unconsciously, his hold tightened just a bit, and he leaned his head to the side. He could feel the softness of Byakuya's hair against the side of his cheek, and even for him, currently in the role of comforter, it was a consoling feeling.

 

Nothing more was said between the two of them that night. They simply sat in a companionable silence as Byakuya freely released his sorrow.

 

For tomorrow, the funeral, would be even worse.

 

* * *

 

Sick of the rumors and the backstabbing and the sycophancy, Ichigo made Rukia's funeral a private affair despite the captain-commander's and the Kuchiki elder's wishes. She was his damn wife; it was his damn decision to make. And Ichigo didn't care what anyone else had to say on the matter, threatening them with Shirosaki if they dared argue. Those unwelcome were barred from attending by Kenpachi and some of the eleventh division, and Ichigo made sure that only their real family and friends were able to pay their respects to Rukia.

 

He wasn't sure how he managed the entire ceremony, how he kept himself together. He had plastered a fake facade of composure, while inwardly he was crumbling to bits. But for the sake of his children, he couldn't break down. And so, he held Kaien's hand, his son clinging to him in a way he hadn't for a few years, and let his child know it was okay to cry.

 

Syaoran remained stuck to her uncle as though she feared he, too, was going to disappear at any moment. Her eyes were red-rimmed from constant tears, and her initial attempt at composure had failed the moment they began receiving guests. Byakuya, for his part, was as collected as his best friend, his mask far more believable than Ichigo's own. Then again, the Kuchiki noble had far more practice than his brother-in-law.

 

Despite everything, Ichigo still found himself going through the rituals and the rites on almost automatic. It was as if he thought it wouldn't be true if he didn't completely experience it. Or maybe he was simply stunned by the whole outcome. Either way, he received condolences politely and responded as he was supposed to but was otherwise unaware of the events surrounding him.

 

What the others offered to the last of Rukia, he didn't know. He didn't see Renji's reaction or Jyuushiro's tears and pale face. It was only those closest to him that he noticed. The freshly picked flowers that Syaoran had so carefully selected for several long hours, choosing only those that were unmarred and brightly colored. The stuffed rabbit Kaien had once cuddled to sleep, given by a son who now had more important things to fear than the dark.

 

But he was most surprised by what Byakuya had given.

 

A small sheaf of papers bound together in an amateurish fashion with only a hint of bright color peeking from the white. Drawings. A whole collection of them. Ichigo vaguely remembered the Kuchiki siblings sharing the same artistic ability, despite not being related by blood. How very appropriate.

 

The ceremony seemed to drag on into eternity when all Ichigo wanted to do was grieve in peace. He couldn't do that, however, until the others who wanted to pay their respects were finished. He could only stand by, nod his head, accept condolences, and watch as those who actually loved and respected Rukia offered their last words and wishes to her. He was glad though for how many there were. It was a consolation that despite what had happened, she had not been abandoned by her friends and family.

 

His children were exhausted by the end of it, drooping where they stood and having long run out of tears. The day seemed to never end, and Ichigo couldn't have been more glad when the last mourner left, leaving him to his own business. And he was never more grateful for Byakuya's help as the noble ushered them to his house where he could take care of his children in peace.

 

He fed an exhausted Kaien and Syaoran and tucked them into bed, several hours too early. But they were too tired to care. And later, when he checked on them, he found one empty bed and the two of them sharing the other. Deriving comfort from one another. Kaien protecting his younger sister. It was a sight that never failed to warm his heart. Despite their constant bickering, they were still family.

 

Only when they were asleep did Ichigo feel he could relax and let go. He allowed the tense lines in his back to ease and released the pent up frustration that had been coiling inside. Several freeing breaths were sucked in as he changed out of his shihakushou, perfect for any important occasion, and into the comfort of a borrowed nemaki.

 

And then, he joined Byakuya outside.

 

The Kuchiki manor was silent, not that the lack of sound was different from the norm. The halls was shadowed from the extinguishing of the majority of the lights, and every servant had either returned home or to their quarters within the grounds for the evening. Very little stirred within the expansive and opulent manor, except for the two of them sitting on the porch to one of the smaller side gardens.

 

The soft noise of porcelain striking porcelain rippled through the still night, lit only by a pallid, crescent moon. Sake tipped into Ichigo's bowl as Byakuya poured what had to be their seventh or eighth shot of the night. Neither was really counting but neither were they trying to get drunk either. It was simply their memorial to Rukia, the last they would give that day.

 

Looking down at the clear liquid, Ichigo sloshed it around the bowl before drinking deeply. It had long ago lost its burn, leaving him with the wonderful taste against his tongue.

 

Beside him, Byakuya set down the jug and sipped at his own bowl. Next time, it would be Ichigo's turn to pour.

 

They had been performing this ritual for the past hour or so. Night had long fallen on Seireitei, ending one of the longest days in Ichigo's existence. Rather than return to his own home, which reminded him all too starkly of Rukia around every corner, Ichigo had graciously accepted Byakuya's invitation. His own house was far too familiar, bringing up memories that had hurt before, but were now agonizing to relive. And now, the children were asleep in their respective bedrooms, exhausted after their own day, leaving the two adults to share their grief.

 

The soft silence between them was neither awkward nor expectant. The two simply enjoyed the fine sake, a gift pressed into their hands from a grieving and worried Shunsui, and watched the fall of moonlight. Lost to their own thoughts.

 

Ichigo's eyes tilted back towards his bowl, half-empty and needing to be filled soon again. “I didn't want this,” he finally whispered, voice the first to penetrate the easy quiet between them. His bare toes wriggled in the cool and damp grass beneath his feet.

 

His eyes turned towards Ichigo questioningly, but Byakuya didn't speak. He knew that the younger man would elaborate when he was ready and not a second sooner. He had grown to learn that very well about his brother-in-law.

 

Sighing, Ichigo tilted his head back and ignored his alcohol for the moment. “I didn't want her to die.”

 

A brief wind stirred, blowing strands of dark hair free from its usual Kenseikan into Byakuya's face as he looked at Ichigo. “No one thinks you did,” he responded, sensing the echo of guilt in his friend's reiatsu.

 

Ichigo sniffed disbelievingly, tone full of bitterness. “They're not saying it, but I can already see it in the stares. They think I'm happy she's out of the way.”

 

“And what does the opinion of a bunch of nameless Shinigami who don't know anything mean?” Byakuya posed, tugging his nemaki closer to his frame in the wake of the chill wind.

 

Swirling around the sake before draining the bowl dry, Ichigo stared at the ground. “She went on that patrol to escape the words of those nameless Shinigami,” he muttered. “Among other things.”

 

Ichigo let out a snort of self-disgust. He huddled in on himself and stared out at the slowly dying garden in front of him. A few minutes passed in silence before he reached for the bottle and uncorked it, beginning to freshen their drinks.

 

“She must've hated me,” Ichigo mumbled then, half to himself and half to Byakuya. “In the end, she must have. Everything that happened, that she went through, it was much my fault, too.”

 

“Impossible. Rukia loved you.”

 

As though he hadn't even heard the words, Ichigo merely shook his head. “Everyone's trying to make me some victim, like I didn't have any sort of part in it. But even I can see it now.” His grip tightened on the bowl. “If I were half the husband I should have been, I would have noticed her unhappiness. I neglected her for everything else, the children, my position... you. I never even noticed how miserable she was.”

 

Ichigo slipped further into his morose mood, instances upon instances crashing through his memories. Moments where he should have realized, should have noticed her pain. And yet, he hadn't.

 

“Ichigo. That's not--”

 

Again, the other man seemed not to hear Byakuya. “I could use an excuse,” Ichigo continued bitterly. “But really, that's all it is in the end. I should have made her happy. I should have noticed… and I don't know... done something. It's--”

 

His words cut off mid-ramble as thin and elegant fingers gripped his chin gently, turning his face towards Byakuya. Ichigo had all of a moment to be stunned before lips were descending on his, pressing softly. The kiss was rather sloppy and messy as their mouths bumped together and teeth clanged briefly since Ichigo had been unprepared. But gradually, he realized the kiss for what it was and responded. Byakuya tasted faintly of sake and sorrow, if the latter even had a taste.

 

The agitation and stress that had been building in his bones and muscles, gradually eased away at the comforting touch, and Ichigo sighed. His fingers loosened in their death grip around his sake bowl. And then, the kiss ended as Byakuya pulled back, his grip falling from Ichigo's chin.

 

Ichigo blinked. “Byakuya...?” The question seemed to die on his lips before he even properly constructed one in his mind.

 

“You were speaking nonsense,” the Kuchiki noble explained with an almost confused blink of his own. He licked his lips briefly, as if to savor the feeling.

 

“And that was?”

 

Eyes shifted to the side almost embarrassedly. “My voice wasn't reaching you,” Byakuya explained. “So I thought something of a more demonstrative nature would.”

 

Ichigo looked at the other man, his cheeks reddening of their own accord as a light-headed feeling swooped through his brain. He blinked, glancing down at the sake. Just how much had he drank? Certainly not enough to become inebriated or even close to the amount he had consumed that one night. But this feeling was still faintly familiar.

 

Byakuya continued in the wake of Ichigo's silence, shifting his position in a manner that for anyone else would have been called a fidget. “But that's all you will get from me tonight,” he declared quietly and focused on his sake as though it held all the answers. “I meant it when I said I would wait however long it took.”

 

A surge of warmth washed through Ichigo at the words, and some of the sorrow that had been clinging like a wet blanket washed out of him. He wasn't alone. Without thinking, Ichigo leaned forward and captured Byakuya's lips again. It was a fumble at first, just like before, but Byakuya more quickly returned the kiss.

 

It was slow and warm, reassuring in its gentleness. Kissing Byakuya was so different from kissing Rukia, but Ichigo wasn't about to compare the two. He couldn't; it was impossible. In fact, he relished the difference, glad to see that it wasn't anything about replacement, one Kuchiki sibling for the other. He wanted Byakuya for Byakuya, and that was all there was to it.

 

Ichigo absorbed comfort from the kiss, the reassurance that he wasn't going to face this pain alone. And then, a strange sort of dizziness assailed him, and he slumped, breaking away.

 

“Whoah...” One hand lifted to his forehead, where he felt flushed and overly warm. “I didn't think that I drank that much...” Yet, his spinning mind seemed to point otherwise.

 

He mentally recounted. Between them, he and Byakuya had drank only five bottles. That was about two and a half for himself. Not nearly enough to intoxicate him.

 

Byakuya grasped his shoulder to steady him, quickly noticing the bleariness in dark eyes. “Perhaps your tolerance has been affected,” he suggested logically, which considering all that Ichigo had endured recently was highly likely.

 

Something that resembled a moan escaped Ichigo in agreement. “Yeah, maybe,” he mumbled as he swayed in place and dropped his empty bowl of sake. “M'tired.” The last was little more than a slur as he slumped into unconsciousness.

 

Despite himself, Byakuya was faintly amused by Ichigo's sudden lack of tolerance. Then again, the combination of emotional stress and lack of sleep and proper nourishment probably had more to do with it than anything else. Shaking his head, he corked the sake with one hand and left it sitting on the porch. Rising to his feet, he scooped Ichigo into his arms, unwilling to let his best friend asleep on the porch. Not with autumn weather bringing in chillier nights.

 

He was glad for the extra strength given to him thanks to being a Shinigami because Ichigo was not the lightest of individuals. Considering that they were nearly the same height and Byakuya was certain Ichigo outweighed him. Or at least he would have had he not been steadily losing weight recently. Byakuya resolved to make sure that he at least ate more. It wouldn't do for him to fall ill earlier.

 

He quickly made his way through the manor to the nearest room, which happened to be his own. It was more comfortable than the guest room anyway. Or perhaps that was just what he was telling himself. Either way, it was where he was going to let Ichigo sleep for the night.

 

Byakuya gently placed Ichigo on the bed, the man stirring at the movement. Feeling his heart warm at the almost innocent sight, Byakuya turned away with the intention of leaving. Before he could escape, however, fingers wrapped around his wrist, dragging him to a halt.

 

“Don't,” a voice asked, prompting him to face Ichigo once more. He noticed that brown eyes were trying to focus on him with marginal success. “I can't... no more cold beds.”

 

He hesitated though, no matter how much he wanted to simply oblige Ichigo's request. “And what if the children were to awaken before us?” the Kuchiki heir asked using pure logic that had nothing to do with his own desires. “What then?”

 

He could tell by the furrowing of Ichigo's brow that the younger man was trying to concentrate.

 

“I'll explain,” he answered, voice a bit hoarse. “They have to be told anyway. Just... please.”

 

It was the last that broke him, throwing all other hesitancy and questions out the window. It was so wrong for Ichigo to sound like this when Byakuya was used to him strong and indomitable. He didn't dare decline now.

 

Sighing to himself, Byakuya inclined his head in agreement, and the grip fell from his wrist. He moved to switch off the light, bathing the room in darkness, before returning to the bed. The uncertainty didn't strike again until after he had already laid down, wondering just how close he should be. It felt somewhat awkward, what with the miles between them. But then Ichigo solved the question for him and shifted closer until he could feel the warmth of the other man next to him.

 

Byakuya released a breath he didn't even realize he was holding as he heard Ichigo shift into comfort and then ever-so-casually throw an arm over him. Despite all that, he was surprised by how easily sleep came to him, sliding into slumber with the next few breaths.

 

- - -

 

“My, how cute.”

 

The voice singsonging above him forced Ichigo out of sleep and into a bleary sort of wakefulness. He winced at the far too happy tone and peeled open one eye. Peering through early morning sunlight, he caught sight of a familiar form at the foot of the bed.

 

A bed that was far too comfortable to be his own.

 

Ichigo finally realized he was lying on something warm, and the feel of someone's breath brushing across his ear was yet another telltale sign. Blinking, the night before suddenly rushed back to him as the fog in his mind began to clear. Despite having been a married man, he flushed profusely once he realized just whom he was currently sprawled atop.

 

Though no response had been given, the unannounced visitor continued, fan waving through the air. “You're lucky I came before your children decided to storm in and wake their father.”

 

There was a shifting beneath Ichigo, and he abruptly moved back as Byakuya stirred.

 

“Who let you in, Urahara?” came the noble's sleepy voice as Ichigo hurried to put a more appropriate distance. “That way I can punish them later.”

 

The shopkeeper laughed and shook his head, giving both men a knowing look. “Now, now, Byakushi. Is that what you should be saying to the man who saved you from a potentially awkward situation?”

 

“This is a potentially awkward situation,” Ichigo hissed in return, a bit annoyed but not too much considering that the geta-boushi was teasing him and that really said a lot.

 

He hadn't been teased by Urahara much since the end of the war. So he could endure the irritating behavior now if only that meant his friend wouldn't return to the fake smiles and melancholy. Shifting to throw his legs over the side of the bed, Ichigo realized that his robe had gaped open, and he hastily moved to draw it closed, not that it escaped Urahara's shrewd eyes.

 

He sought to distract the other man. “What time is it?”

 

“Approaching noon,” Urahara chirped far too cheerily for either of their comfort as that annoying fan continued to wave.

 

In the process of raking fingers through his hair, Ichigo paled. “Kami. I'm surprised the kids haven't come looking yet.” He rose to his feet. “They must be hungry.”

 

“Ah, don't worry,” the geta-boushi assured him. “Kuina fed them this morning and has been keeping an eye on them. And right now, Yoruichi is entertaining them.”

 

Ichigo snorted. “All the more reason to be concerned,” he retorted absentmindedly as he belatedly realized just how rested he felt.

 

The feeling of sadness was still there, tugging at his emotions, but the pain was lessened. Byakuya's warmth had helped to chase away the chill from Rukia's loss. From the corner of his eye, he snuck a glance at Byakuya, who for once looked as flustered as he did. He had to admit, a sleep-mussed and disarrayed Byakuya was just as attractive as a perfectly composed and put together Byakuya. It made him... cute, for lack of a better word, but Ichigo enjoyed his own health to dare something like that aloud.

 

Shadowed eyes glanced between both Ichigo and Byakuya for several long moments before the fan snapped close with a sudden sound, nearly making both of them jump. “Well, I'll just leave you two to your business,” Urahara announced, already wandering towards the door. “But you are expected for lunch in ten minutes so there's no time for fun.”

 

And then, he was slipping out of the door like the former ninja he was, completely escaping Ichigo's glare of death, which he had learned from the master.

 

Silence descended on the room. There was a rustle of cloth as Byakuya stood, idly adjusting his own nemaki until it was more presentable.

 

Remembering his own rather embarrassing plea, it took all of his self-control not to blush again. “Thanks,” Ichigo mumbled and watched Byakuya from the corner of his eye. “For staying, I mean.”

 

Grey eyes looked at him without the slightest hint of discomfort. “It was my choice,” Byakuya responded. “And you don't have to thank me for everything.”

 

“I know.” He stepped towards the door, pausing in the entryway and looking back at Byakuya with a hint of a smile on his lips. “But I'm going to anyway.”

 

Amusement flittered across Byakuya's expression. “Kurosaki stubbornness,” he teased, though it was with fondness.

 

Ichigo chuckled to himself and disappeared out the door, leaving Byakuya to whatever it was the noble needed to do before he was ready to present himself to the world. His children were waiting for him, after all.

 

- - - - -