Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Of Violence ❯ 22: Of Blame ( Chapter 24 )

Of Violence

Chapter Twenty-Two: Of Blame

 

“This table really is too big for just two,” Jyuushiro commented as he swept his gaze over those gathered around him, the darkness lifting around his eyes at having so many of who he considered his family near to him.

 

At a glance, Ichigo could see that Jyuushiro still appeared haggard and worn, as though he hadn't had any decent sleep in the past week or so, which was likely true. And yet, he was set to return to regular duties the next day. Ichigo knew that he could probably use more time but also that his division needed him now more than ever.

 

Izuru smiled. “Yes, it is nice to have everyone together,” he said pleasantly, trying to keep the atmosphere around the table enjoyable, despite the somewhat awkward tension in the air.

 

After Ichigo and Byakuya had come to pick up the children earlier, they had been invited to dinner and couldn't very well turn Jyuushiro down. It should have been a pleasant affair, except for the odd behavior that Ichigo noted in his children. Kaien was acting oddly, pushing his food around his plate and very obviously sulking as though he were unhappy about something. And Syaoran was shooting her brother strange looks, while participating in the conversation. Ichigo wondered if something had happened, but no one had mentioned anything earlier to him.

 

Popping a small bite into his mouth, Ichigo focused on his children. “And what did you two do today?”

 

“Zuru-jii-chan helped me with my kanji,” Syaoran explained proudly. “I know at least ten more now.”

 

Byakuya lifted his brow. “Congratulations,” he replied, pleased as ever to hear it. “You're picking it up very quickly, Syaoran.”

 

She beamed at the compliment, even as Ichigo turned towards her brother.

 

“Kaien,” he prompted, “what about you?”

 

“Nothing really,” Kaien replied as he poked listlessly at a piece of fried egg on his plate. “Just the usual, I guess.”

 

Ichigo barely held back on his frown. Kaien usually enjoyed speaking about his exploits, and in great lengths. The strange behavior was beginning to nag on the edge of his conscious now, and he resolved to talk to his son when they got home. Now, however, wasn't the place nor the time.

 

“I'm afraid I was feeling a little ill earlier,” Jyuushiro explained with an apologetic expression. “I wasn't able to spend as much time with them as I planned as I was resting. But perhaps next time I'll be able to help Kaien with some of his techniques. Would you like that?”

 

The boy shrugged and focused intently on his rice. “It's fine.”

 

Definitely having a talk when they got home, Ichigo confirmed. The day Kaien didn't show any interest in sparring was a day something was definitely wrong.

 

Izuru took a sip of his water and tried to turn the conversation around. As they had all been doing since dinner was served twenty minutes ago and Kaien had proven particularly non-compliant to conversation.

 

“How is your division holding up, Ichigo?” he questioned. “I know Yumichika-san has been busy as of late.”

 

“If not for him, it would probably be a disorganized mess right now,” Ichigo admitted and ducked his head with a hint of shame. “I don't know what I'd do without him.”

 

The blond nodded in agreement. “I'm sure. The paperwork must be stacking up in light of recent events.”

 

Ichigo's head throbbed, and though the food was delicious, he still found himself pushing it around his plate with the end of his chopsticks. Emotional turmoil did not a happy stomach make.

 

“The unwanted mail has been stifling,” he agreed with a faint sigh, wondering how many more envelopes would be gracing his desktop when he went into work tomorrow.

 

Yumichika had been doing a fine job of filtering out the obvious ones, but something must have gotten out to the masses. They were being more sly in their requests now, sending them in envelopes that bypassed Yumichika's scrutiny and managed to appear in front of him anyway. Ichigo considered not opening any of it and just dumping it all into the trash. If it was important, the old man could send it to him by way of messenger.

 

“I know the feeling,” Jyuushiro murmured sympathetically, thinking of his own unwanted stack of mail that was already building up in his office. “My inbox has been stuffed with recommendations for the position.”

 

Byakuya frowned, a touch of anger stirring inside of himself at the thought. “Already?” he questioned, surprised by the audacity and thoughtlessness of the more ambitious Shinigami.

 

Jyuushiro nodded. “I opened one,” he replied quietly but slumped a little in his seat as an uncomfortable expression flickered across his face. “But I couldn't stomach the rest. They were--”

 

“Stop it,” Kaien muttered, breaking into the conversation with little regard for politeness. Somehow, his utterance was sharp enough to cut through Jyuushiro's speech, despite the fact he hadn't even raised his voice.

 

Quiet fell across the table as the eyes of every adult turned towards Ichigo's eldest son. Kaien was staring at the tablecloth, working his jaw noticeably and his fingers were clenched around his chopsticks.

 

Ichigo lowered his hand and focused his gaze on his son. “Kaien,” he began slowly, feeling an edge of anger and something else - grief? - in his son's reiatsu. “What's wrong?”

 

The boy was shaking, and after sucking in a breath, he jerked his head up and glared at his grandfather. “Just stop it,” he repeated more strongly this time, as though he had gathered his resolve. He shoved back and rose to his feet, chopsticks clattering to the tabletop. “How dare you replace okaa-san?”

 

A deathly quiet swept through the room, making the air heavy and still. Hands paused, no longer interested in the meal laid before them. And even Syaoran was gaping at her brother, aghast and confused by his behavior. Byakuya and Ichigo exchanged a glance, but it was Jyuushiro who responded.

 

“Kaien, I'm not trying to replace anyone,” he put in softly, hand lowering to the table as all desire to eat was washed out of him at the accusation in the young boy's eyes.

 

“You are,” Kaien insisted, hands bunching into fists at his side. “I saw them on your desk. You're already looking!”

 

Ichigo's eyes widened. “You were snooping around?” he questioned with a raised eyebrow twitching. He was a little angry that Kaien had so rudely stuck his nose where it didn't belong. And not only that, but he was accusing his grandfather of something purely on that sneaky behavior.

 

“I wasn't snooping,” Kaien cried, and his eyes shimmered with tears borne of frustration and anger, though he refused to let them fall. “They were there, and I accidentally saw them!” He swung his gaze back towards Jyuushiro and pinned him with all the fury that a grieving child could hold. “How dare you replace her?”

 

All the color had drained from the elder man's face, and Jyuushiro swallowed thickly. “I would never--”

 

He wasn't even allowed to finish his statement before Kaien was continuing, “It's your fault in the first place, and now, you want to give it to someone else?”

 

“Kaien!” Unexpectedly, the first chastisement came from Syaoran, who was both aghast and hurt by her brother's actions. “Why are you saying that?” she cried, voice thick with emotion.

 

Ichigo was already rising to his feet, circling around the table to where his son was still shooting accusing glances at his adoptive grandfather. “Kaien, stop.”

 

“No,” Kaien shouted, shaking his head furiously and filling his eyes with a heated glare. “If it weren't for him, kaa-san never would have died. I won't let him replace her, too!”

 

Izuru's hand settled on his husband's arm, trying to offer some comfort in the midst of the roiling emotions that were spilling into the room in an enclosing tangle. Jyuushiro was shaking beneath his touch, and for all his eloquence, he simply couldn't find the words to refute Kaien's accusations. The guilt that had been riding on the back of his mind surged to the forefront with full force, drumming painfully on his heart.

 

It was Byakuya's voice that broke the heaviness in the room, sounding final in its sharpness. “Kaien, that's enough,” he stated shortly with a look of pained disbelief glinting in grey eyes.

 

The boy, eyes widening at what was as near to an order as Byakuya could issue to someone who was not his subordinate, clamped his lips shut and tore his gaze away to focus on the far wall. It was obvious that more was teetering within his mind, but he kept it to himself, shoulders shaking as emotions tumbled through him. More turbulent than his young mind could properly understand.

 

A bit surprised by his own initiative, Byakuya exchanged another look with Ichigo, who was torn in finding his own words. Moving to his son's side, Ichigo lowered himself until he was eye level with the boy, hating the obvious distress in Kaien's face. He was still shaking. And though anger was writ into his expression, his eyes glimmered with unshed tears.

 

“Kaien,” he began gently and reached for his son. “You know that's not true. Why would you say something so hurtful?”

 

Blue eyes dragged towards his father. “Because it's his fault,” Kaien repeated, voice cracking and barely more than a whisper. “If she hadn't gone on that patrol like he told her to, kaa-san wouldn't have been killed. I can't... I won't...” His gaze found the floor again, a safer place to look, his jaw set in anger. “I hate him.”

 

And then his arms were full of his son, who was clinging to him like he had when he was much, much younger. Shaking with silent tears.

 

Ichigo found himself speechless as he wrapped his arms around Kaien, unsure what to think of the entire fiasco. Patting the trembling boy on the back, he lifted his gaze to Jyuushiro, feeling the urge to apologize for his son's behavior.

 

“I'm sorry. I--”

 

“It's fine,” Jyuushiro interrupted, swallowing through the choked feeling that gripped his throat. “He's right in many ways. If it hadn't been for me...” he trailed off and gazed down at the table where it seemed safest.

 

No one was quite sure of what to say next, and wordless quiet swept into the room. All interest in the wonderful dinner was abandoned as the food grew cold on their plates.

 

Biting back a sigh, Ichigo politely excused himself. “I'll be right back,” he explained, confusion still swirling through his mind as he turned away from the table and urged his son to come with him. “Just let me talk to him. We'll get this sorted out. Come on, son.”

 

Kaien meekly followed his father from the room, refusing to look at anyone else as he kept his gaze locked on the safety of the floor.

 

The silence left behind by their exit was broken when Syaoran rose from the table, determination brightening her face. “Nii-chan's wrong,” she declared loudly, perhaps a bit too much since it echoed in the tension of the dining room. “We can't blame you for what happened to kaa-chan. And I'm sorry he said it. He shouldn't have.”

 

Dark eyes glimmered. “Thank you, Syaoran,” Jyuushiro murmured as she crawled into his lab and wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. “I understand where your nii-chan is coming from, however. I cannot dismiss his pain easily.”

 

Fingers wrapped around Jyuushiro's hand, squeezing them gently. “Jyuu,” Izuru murmured sympathetically, well-acquainted with the overwhelming feelings of guilt. “You cannot blame yourself.”

 

“As you have told me before,” Jyuushiro replied, misery heavy in his tone and drawing his shoulders towards the floor. “But until this horrible rending in my heart eases, I will always feel this way.”

 

“Senpai,” Byakuya stared, unable to keep his silence. “Believe me when I say that Kaien is only upset right now. But none of us blame you. Not I nor Ichigo.” And Byakuya, in his new and unusual role of consoling kouhai, somehow found the right words to say. “Please, do not tear yourself apart over something that could not have been prevented or anticipated. None of us want to see you in pain, and I am certain that Rukia would not either.”

 

Jyuushiro, whose eyes had fallen to the table, looked at his former student with nothing less than sheer gratitude. His words had not completely erased the guilt, but they did have the intended effect of alleviating the blame he placed on himself. A shaky smile, stretched around the edges, was cast Byakuya's way as Jyuushiro squeezed his husband's hand for strength.

 

“Thank you,” he whispered, swallowing down the moisture that wanted to spill from his eyes. “Your words mean much to me.”

 

A small hand patted him on the arm, Syaoran gazing up at him with some anxiety in her expression. “Don't worry, ojii-chan. Kaien will come around. I know he will.”

 

Another of those small smiles was offered to his precious granddaughter, who wanted nothing more than to comfort her grandfather. “Your forgiveness is more than I deserve.” He closed his eyes, allowing the consolation that was being offered.

 

He only hoped that Kaien could come to understand as well.

 

- - -

 

No matter how much he stared at them, the boxes would not sort themselves out. Ichigo stood in the doorway of the spare room where he and Byakuya had placed Rukia's belongings and glowered at the four squares of folded cardboard. He really didn't want to poke through them a second time, but it was also a job that needed doing, though the quiet of his own house was unnerving.

 

The twins were asleep. Syaoran was reading in her room. Kaien was lying down, or at least, his son had claimed he was going to bed. Judging from the fatigue in his eyes and the way his gaze seemed focused on the floor, Ichigo was inclined to believe him. The stress of the day had taken its toll on Kaien, and while he had completely clammed up after yelling at Jyuushiro, it was obvious he was still mentally torn about it.

 

After the disastrous events at dinner, Kaien had withdrawn into himself, and Ichigo eventually had to excuse his family from Jyuushiro's house. The couple completely understood. Byakuya had remained behind, Ichigo assuring him that he would be fine with the children on his own. Besides, it would do Jyuushiro some good if Byakuya remained, assuring him that no one truly blamed him for Rukia's death.

Arriving home, Ichigo had dismissed Tohru and watched as his eldest children vanished to their respective rooms. Silence descended on his household, and he hadn't liked it one bit. He had spent time with the twins as he brooded over Kaien's behavior and then tucked them into bed at the appropriate time. Which then led Ichigo to his current position, having felt at a loss for something to do next to distract himself.

 

Sighing to himself, Ichigo forced his feet to step into the room where he lowered himself to the floor beside one of box. Glaring at it another moment more, he finally reached out and opened the flaps. Brightly colored wrapping paper was the first thing to meet his eyes, and a memory joggled at the back of his conscious.

 

Syaoran's birthday present. He had nearly forgotten that they had found it. Almost ridiculously relieved to have a reason to put aside going through the boxes for another few minutes, Ichigo removed the gift from the box and rose to his feet. No time like the present to give the item to its true owner.

 

It wasn't like him to avoid doing something, but in this, he felt he was justified. Let him save himself at least one measure of pain for the day. It had been hard enough as it was.

 

Tucking the gift under his arm, Ichigo stepped into the hallway and made straight for Syaoran's room. The silence of the house seemed to envelop him, and even the whisper of his tabi on the floor was overly loud. It was depressing, and he could firmly recall when it seemed his home could never shut up. It had been weeks since Kaien had run naked through the house, encouraging his father to chase him. How ironic that he should miss those innocent pursuits.

 

Ichigo paused outside his daughter's room and peeked inside. She was propped up on her bed, thumbing through one of her favorite books. It was one that presented a challenge but wasn't so difficult that she couldn't understand. Syaoran was determined to surpass her brother in all things possible, despite the years of difference between them. Not that age really mattered with the amount of reiatsu both were cultivating.

 

Smiling to himself at the sight, he rapped his knuckles against the door frame, prompting her to look up. “Tou-chan,” she greeted, carefully marking her place and setting the book aside. “You can come in, you know.”

 

He took her up on the offer, stepping inside and giving her full view of the colorful box tucked under his arm. Her eyes immediately locked onto it, and she sat up a bit straighter.

 

“What's that?” Syaoran asked curiously before he could even get a word in edgewise. A hint of excitement, always for the possibility of a present, entered her tone.

 

“Byakuya and I found this for you,” he explained, handing her the carefully wrapped package.

 

She took it gently, eyes flicking over the wrapping and the small note attached to the top. Recognition dawned in an instant. Her birthday present from her mother. Big brown eyes took on a distinctive sheen as Syaoran cradled it in her arms protectively.

 

“Thank you,” his little girl murmured, fingers hovering over the bright blue bow. She was hesitating; he could see that much. As though it would be some travesty to ruin the obvious effort it had taken to decorate the gift.

 

Ichigo hesitated and watched as she lingered over the wrapping. “Aren't you going to open it?”

 

She nodded and then looked up at him, as if that should be explanation enough. “I will, but...”

 

He understood then, just what she was asking. She tried so hard to be strong. It would be rude of him to not accept her attempts. He inclined his head.

 

“I'll just be in my room, okay?” he replied, not wanting to return to that room with its cold boxes. Stepping towards the door, he paused on the threshold and looked back at her. “Come talk if you want.”

 

Syaoran nodded again, distracted, and he took that as her answer. Ichigo watched for another lingering moment before leaving his daughter alone. This was something she wanted to keep private, and he was going to respect that. It was between mother and daughter, after all.

 

Forcing himself to take a deep breath, trying to will away the tension creeping into his body, Ichigo headed towards his own room. Something else he had been avoiding at every possible instance since the day Rukia had died. It hadn't been so bad when they were only separated, but with her gone, her former presence had seemed that much more acute.

 

Stepping into the familiar room, walls soaked with both his and her reiatsu - and if he concentrated, the lingering hints of Aizen's as well - he steeled himself. It was becoming easier to handle the memories, letting them wash over him rather than trying to repress. If he just accepted their return and didn't fight it, they were less painful to relive.

 

Mechanically, he moved towards the dresser and stripping out of his clothes, he put on his nemaki. It was probably too early to be preparing to sleep, but for some reason, he just felt tired. After clearing out Rukia's apartment and then the disastrous dinner at Jyuushiro's, a part of Ichigo just wanted to sleep.

 

Thinking of Jyuushiro ultimately turned his thoughts towards his son. Kaien's behavior had shocked him, though belatedly he realized he should have seen it coming. He had been sullen and withdrawn before Rukia's death, and it had only gotten worse afterwards. And it wasn't far to go, especially for a child, to jump from his mother's death to placing the blame. Ichigo was only surprised that Kaien hadn't turned his anger on him.

 

He knew that he needed to talk to Kaien, explain the truth and help him understand that it wasn't Jyuushiro's fault. The older captain suffered already. He didn't need to think that his grandchild hated him as well. Izuru and the children were the only things keeping him relatively happy at the moment.

 

Ichigo wondered just what he could say to his son. Kaien was hurting, and Ichigo found himself without the proper words. He knew all the questions Kaien was asking himself and the world. All the unfairness and all the anger. But there wasn't any proper answer to that emotion. He knew that himself.

 

With a sigh, he wandered over to his bed and threw back the covers. Chilled feet were grateful for the warmth of the blankets as he slipped beneath them. One hand reached out to flip on the bedside lamp, even as he reached for the well-used copy of his favorite book. He needed something to clear his thoughts.

 

A footstep, just a faint shuffle really, in the open threshold distracted him. Ichigo shifted his attention to the doorway and found Syaoran standing there. Her eyes were red-rimmed and brimming with oncoming tears, but her hands were empty. There was no sign of the gift.

 

“What is it, sweetie?”

 

She looked at the ground, biting her lip in a search for composure. One little hand clutched on the doorway. “I don't blame Jyuu-jii-chan,” she murmured, more to herself than to him before she lifted her eyes to her father. “But I miss her, tou-chan. I can't help it.”

 

The lost pain in her voice made Ichigo's heart clench for her, hating that she had to feel that agony. And wordlessly, he held out his arms. She came to him in an instant, climbing up onto the bed and into his lap. She curled there, much bigger than she had been when she had done this as an even smaller child, and leaned against his chest. Ichigo was quick to settle her comfortably, gently stroking a hand over her head and hair in a manner that had always been soothing.

 

He rocked her lightly and tried his best to comfort must have seemed like an unbearable pain. “It's okay to miss her,” Ichigo murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head and laying his cheek against her hair. “I miss her, too.”

 

Ichigo heard her draw in a heavy breath, shuddering with every attempt not to break into wracking sobs. “Nii-chan's mad because I should be angry. But I don't want to be.”

 

“It's okay not to be upset,” Ichigo assured her, voice soft and low in the quiet of the room. “I'm really proud of you for being so strong, Syaoran. But you know, it's okay to cry.”

 

She reached up with one hand, and her fingers wrapped around his arm and squeezing tightly. He could tell by the subtle shake to her body that she was already taking his advice, though her weeping was very quiet.

 

“I'm not mad, but...” Syaoran hesitated, struggling to control herself and speak the right words, and Ichigo waited with patience. She could take all the time she needed. “But I wish I could be mad at something. Then, I could be that instead of sad.”

 

“It's not good to trade one emotion for another,” Ichigo said carefully, not wanting his daughter to succumb to the madness that was revenge and rage. It wasn't healthy.

 

He didn't want Syaoran to fall into the pit that had stolen his youth from him either. Where he blamed himself from his mother's death and where he blamed himself for not being strong enough to save her. He would do whatever it took to make sure she and Kaien didn't suffer as he had.

 

His fingers stroked lightly through her hair, easing out a knot if he found one, but otherwise consolingly gentle. “I know how you feel, sweetie. But it doesn't help to be angry at anything. In the end, you'll end up feeling sadder than you were before.”

 

“I guess that makes sense,” Syaoran murmured, voice thick with tears. “But still...” she trailed off and snuggled closer against his warmth, tugging her legs up under her.

 

“But?” Ichigo prompted.

 

If it were at all possible, his daughter buried her face in his chest, enough so that he could barely hear her next words. “I wanna know why. Why did she have to die?”

 

It was the inevitable question that Ichigo had been dreading. The one that didn't have a right or wrong answer, but he knew was important all the same. Wincing, Ichigo rocked her in his arms, hoping that he didn't screw this up completely. And hoping that his words might even serve as a comfort to himself. After all, “Life isn't fair” wasn't a suitable answer to give, even if he'd learned that the hard way himself.

 

“There's no why, Syaoran. Sometimes bad things happen, and... we just can't explain them. Or prevent them,” he paused to take in his own breath that was just a touch unstable for his own pride. “We just have to accept them.”

 

Silence swept through the room as she considered his words, fingers tightening around his arm desperately. “You'd have saved her,” Syaoran finally whispered against his blue nemaki. “I know you would've.”

 

It hurt, by kami, it hurt. Her absolute trust and faith in him was a nearly tangible pain, and it took everything Ichigo had not to cry himself. Because she was right.

 

If. Ichigo's pain was ruled by the laws of “if.” So much could have been spared had “if” been just a bit more merciful.

 

“Yes, I would've,” he said through a closing throat. “With all of my power.” And it almost sounded like a promise, but to what, he didn't know.

 

Her face pushed further into the cloth. “I wish that you could've,” Syaoran continued, even quieter than before.

 

Ichigo swallowed thickly, passed a lump in his throat that refused to shrink no matter how stridently he wrapped himself in his composure. “Me, too,” he whispered. “Me, too.” He leaned down and kissed the crown of her head.

 

The small noises emerging from her were most definitely attempts to hide the fact that she was crying. Ichigo chose not to comment on it, simply letting his daughter finally release her grief. He didn't even say a word when his nemaki dampened or when the grip on his arm had to be painful, even for her. He only held Syaoran close and wished not for the first time that he had been given the chance to save Rukia.

 

It wasn't that Syaoran hadn't cried before, but Ichigo knew that she had been holding herself back, trying to be strong. Just like when she had fallen sick, she had been trying to protect her father by not adding to his own pain. Ichigo was giving her the chance now to finally let it free, to allow the sorrow to wash through her in hopes of one day finding it a little easier to breathe.

 

Calloused fingers gently stroked over her hair, a repetitious motion that never failed to comfort Syaoran. Ichigo wished to know what Rukia had given her, what had finally pushed her past the dam of her control. But he also knew that it was something between mother and daughter. If Syaoran wanted to share, she would show him at a later point.

 

The minutes crawled by, not that Ichigo was counting them. He would give her as long as she needed. The tears gradually eased, leading to a tired collection of soft sniffling as Syaoran gradually relaxed in his hold. The shaking and tension laxed into fatigue as she slumped against him, falling under the spell of his fingers in her hair.

 

“Tou-chan?” Her voice was hoarse from the weeping, and she sniffled, one hand rising to wipe the sleeve of her robe across her face.

 

“Hmm?”

 

She hesitated. “Can I... stay with you tonight?” It was asked, almost as if she feared he would turn her down. But he wouldn't begrudge her this, not now.

 

“Of course. You know you don't need to ask,” he replied softly and stopped stroking her hair to gently wipe his own sleeve over her face. The woven fabric of his nemaki wiped away the last traces of her tears, though he didn't doubt her eyes were swollen and rimmed with red.

 

Syaoran heaved a deep breath, slowly releasing it in an effort to calm herself, though it came out shuddery. The painful grip had completely vanished, but he could tell that her small reiatsu still rippled with grief. Only time would tell.

 

With a sudden yet careful heave, Ichigo lifted her into his arms. Syaoran released a squeak of surprise, flailing to grab onto him for stability.

 

“Tou-chan!”

 

“Bedtime for little girls,” he explained, turning to the side so that he could tuck her into the covers. “Even pretty princesses.”

 

She looked up at him through brown eyes indeed encircled by puffy redness, her face still damp. The corner of his nemaki softly wiped away the last traces of tear tracks before Ichigo leaned over and rubbed noses with her, something his mother used to do for him a long time ago. Despite her sorrow, she managed a light giggle.

 

“You're silly,” Syaoran murmured, and then, her jaw nearly cracked with the force of a yawn that attacked her. “But I still love you.”

 

There was nothing more healing than to hear those words from his children. Ichigo warmed, the feeling chasing away the chill of remnants of loss.

 

“I love you, too, princess,” he responded as he slid down beside her so that his presence could help ease her into sleep.

 

She twisted around to get comfortable, ending up curled on her side. Syaoran looked up at him, and though she resembled her mother greatly, her eyes were a different color. And for that, Ichigo was grateful. One small hand reached up, her face losing the brief amusement and shifting to solemnity, so near an adult.

 

“It's okay for you to be sad, too,” she whispered, as though he needed permission to let go as well. “I won't tell if you cry.”

 

Sweet kami, he loved his children. Though often Ichigo worried that they were growing a bit too fast. Here, he was, still struggling to catch up and trying to remember when they had stopped in needing him so much and him needing them even more.

 

“I know,” he told her, warmed by her words. “Just go to sleep.”

 

Syaoran shook her head. “M'not tired,” she protested, but the next yawn that attacked her completely belied her statement.

 

He smiled, reaching to tuck a strand of hair behind her ears. “Liar.”

 

“The light's still on.” Another faint protest, a vain attempt at fighting off an inevitable bedtime. He wondered if that was ingrained in all children, no matter how fond they were of sleep.

 

“I'll turn it off in a minute,” Ichigo assured her, and the conversation seemed so blessedly normal that he felt his shoulders lose an edge of tension. She was still mourning, the grief still hovered in the air, but it was lessened by the normality of it all.

 

Snuggling into the comfort of the covers and her father's familiar and reassuring presence, her eyes shuttered closed. “Night, tou-chan.”

 

“Good night, Syaoran,” he murmured and lightly stroked his fingers over her hair. He knew it was the quickest way to soothe her into unconsciousness.

 

It didn't take long, stress and grief quickly pulling Syaoran into a deep sleep. Ichigo waited until her breathing had evened out and her body slackened before carefully extracting himself from the bed. She didn't even stir, and he was reassured that she was asleep. He planned to return soon enough, but first, he had three other children to make sure were sleeping soundly.

 

Rising to his feet, and ignoring the creak his aching back made, Ichigo turned off the light, bathing the room in a dim darkness. He left the door wide open, allowing the light from the hallway to spill into the room. A quick glance back confirmed that Syaoran was still asleep, unbothered by his quiet exit.

 

Stepping into the corridor, Ichigo checked on the twins first as their room was the nearest to his. Just a few doors down. The door didn't creak as he pushed it open, a stream of light falling on their sleeping faces. Curled together as always with Mikan stealing most of the blankets. Ichigo found a smile flitting onto his face at the simple sight, the two of them sleeping peacefully.

 

Sure of their health and safety, Ichigo left the door cracked and moved on to the next room. Although he had tucked the twins in himself, he could never shake the urge to constantly check on his children. A fear that if he didn't they would disappear on him perhaps. He wasn't certain. He just knew better than to trust anything in his life to luck or fairness. Rukia's death was positive proof of that.

 

Stepping down the hall, he headed for Kaien's room, stopping briefly at Syaoran's to turn off her light. The first sign of something unusual was the fact that the door was open. His eldest child had wanted to keep it closed lately, some small effort to prove he was growing up since he didn't need the light of the hallway Ichigo supposed. Peering inside, he found empty sheets and an empty bed, and irrationally, his heart leapt into his throat.

 

He didn't need to panic; he needed to think. His son was old enough to leave his room without being escorted for any number of things. The bathroom or a glass of water, for example. Forcing himself to calm down and take a breath, Ichigo closed his eyes.

 

He ignored the organ pounding a fierce rhythm in his chest and focused on controlling his reiatsu, letting out small tendrils. These he directed to search for the burgeoning seeds of his son's own. His initial assurances of bathroom or kitchen were unfounded. He expanded his senses further.

 

Kaien wasn't on the back porch either. Or in the playroom. Or the main room and the back garden. And then finally… there. The small dojo that Ichigo used to practice his hand-to-hand that was connected to the side of the house.

 

A breath of relieved air escaped him, and muttering under his breath for a son who had worried him, Ichigo followed the small yet growing threads. His pace took him through the somewhat darkened home, which always seemed so still at night, and to the sliding door of the dojo. It was cracked open, and he peered through the gap, catching sight of his son. Kaien was kneeling on the floor, his back to the door, and his gaze seemingly locked on the stand that held his bokken attached to the wall. They often sparred here when the weather wasn't cooperating.

 

Slipping inside, he knew Kaien heard him when the door rattled into the port. “Why aren't you in bed?” Ichigo inquired as he padded across the floor. His words echoed in the empty space.

 

“Not tired,” came the short response, Kaien not even turning to acknowledge his presence.

 

Nodding more to himself, Ichigo lowered himself to the polished wood floor beside his oldest child. “Felt like practicing?” he posed, easing into the conversation carefully. The tension in Kaien's reiatsu only proved that he was still perturbed over the day's events.

 

“Not really.” Kaien really was an eloquent child.

 

From the corner of his eye, he could see Kaien's hands folded into his lap, fingers firmly enmeshed. There were also dry tear-tracks on his face. But he was otherwise solemn, gaze still locked on the wall as though he had been meditating. It was strange to see his normally energetic child sitting so still and somber.

 

“I see.” Ichigo went silent for a minute, joining Kaien in contemplation, before he broke the subdued atmosphere again. “Want to talk about it?”

 

Kaien visibly flinched and then just shook his head negatively.

 

Taking a breath, Ichigo closed his eyes and tilted his face towards the ceiling, praying for the right words. Why did it have to be so difficult? He had put off this conversation because he wanted Kaien to have some time to think. But he also didn't want his son laboring under misconceptions. He again wondered just how he was supposed to approach this and still found himself floundering.

 

A part of him wondered how Isshin had ever survived this. How he had kept the will to not only live but to appear his normal albeit insane self after his own wife had died. And a small sliver of respect blossomed in Ichigo's chest at the resolve and effort Goat-Face must have used.

 

“Okay,” Ichigo began as he came back to himself, lowering his head again and looking over at Kaien, whose shoulders had started to hunch inwards. “But I really think we should talk about your ojii-san.”

 

There was another visible wince. “I don't want to,” Kaien mumbled. His hands clenched a bit tighter around one another.

 

“I know,” Ichigo replied with understanding etched into his tone. “But Kaien, you're misunderstanding something, and I don't think that it is fair for you to be angry with Jyuu-ojii-san over a mistake.”

 

The moment of silence was heavy with tension. He could tell that Kaien was fighting something. “I saw them,” he hissed angrily, shoulders tightening with latent hostility. “I did.”

 

Ichigo took a breath. “I'm not saying you didn't,” he replied carefully, realizing that he trod on very unsteady ground and a single misspoken step could send Kaien in the wrong direction. Best to choose his words cautiously. “You may have seen them, but that didn't mean your ojii-san was actually considering. In fact, he was quite angry about receiving anything. He would never think to replace your kaa-san. Never. He loves her as he would his own children. As surely as he does me and you.”

 

His son's gaze locked on the ground. “It's still his fault,” Kaien choked out, chewing on his bottom lip. “If he hadn't sent her--”

 

“Kaien,” Ichigo gently interrupted, not even wanting him to finish his sentence. “Your kaa-san chose to take that patrol. To protect everyone, including us. That was she why she went.”

 

Tears swam in his eyes, threatening to spill. “And he let her go,” the boy cried, very obviously just wanting someone, anyone really, to blame. As if that incrimination would somehow make it easier to bear. “He didn't even stop her.”

 

As if anyone could stop Rukia when she was determined. Not even Ichigo had found a way to do so in the decades they had been married. But he didn't see any use in telling his son that either. In his grief, he wouldn't understand the strength of his mother's will.

 

Kaien's shoulders were trembling now, but from anger or sadness or even a mixture of both, Ichigo wasn't sure. But he thought that he was beginning to understand the main source of his son's pain. And the reason he had lashed out at Jyuushiro, seemingly without any provocation.

 

He must have been running the same thoughts over in his head for the past week now, wanting to find some reason out of something unreasonable.

 

Ichigo lifted a hand and laid it on Kaien's shoulder, relieved when the comfort wasn't immediately shaken off. “You're not really mad at your ojii-san,” he said in the softest voice possible, trying to keep the echoes to a minimum. “You are angry at me... and your kaa-san.”

 

When Kaien didn't immediately respond, either to argue or confirm, Ichigo knew that his suspicions had been correct. Kaien's silence was an answer in itself.

 

“And because of that,” Ichigo continued. “You're angry with yourself because you don't want to be mad at her.” Squeezing his shoulder, Ichigo gently forced his son to look at him, meeting sorrow-dimmed eyes. “She didn't want to leave you, Kaien. Or your brother and sisters.”

 

There was a trembling beneath Ichigo's touch as a single tear broke through Kaien's control, snaking down his cheek. “I know that,” he said, and his voice cracked. “But I don't... I don't wanna...” Words failed him as more tears joined the solitary one that had escaped before.

 

Ichigo felt the pain clambering in his own chest once again, hating to see his children crying like this. His hand slid from Kaien's shoulder to cup the back of his son's head, and he pulled Kaien against his side. He tucked the boy under his arm, felt the shaking of his body and wished for a way to make this easier, less painful for his children.

 

There was a sniffle. “I don't wanna hate Jyuu-jii-chan,” Kaien managed to get out, fingers twisting around each other as he wound them in his own lap. “But I... I'm so mad, and it hurts, tou-chan. I really miss her.” He buried his face against Ichigo's side, trying and failing to restrain his grief.

 

“I know,” Ichigo murmured, his own emotions ragged and on the edge. “And I promise... it'll get better eventually. Just bear with it.”

 

Bear with it.

 

The only advice he could give. It wouldn't get less painful with time, but it would become a little easier to bear. The feeling of loss wouldn't be as clenching and cold, and eventually, the happy memories would bring smiles rather than echoes of grief. He hated that he couldn't say everything was going to be alright, that he couldn't just kiss the pain away. And in that, Ichigo felt very much helpless.

 

He heard his son take in a shuddering breath, and it was the only acknowledgment he received that Kaien had at least listened to him. Father and son sat in silence for an unmeasured time, surrounded by the calm of the dojo and sharing their grief.

 

Ichigo let Kaien have several long moments to reflect on his words before he patted his son on the side. “Please, don't blame your ojii-chan, Kaien. He wants nothing more than to bring your kaa-san back, too.”

 

A moment of silence followed his rather selfish request before he felt Kaien nod against him, head rubbing against his arm. “Okay,” he replied, voice thick from his tears. He snuffled and wiped off his face with the back of his arm. “Is he... mad at me?” The question was tentative and half-afraid.

 

Ichigo shook his head, though Kaien couldn't really see the motion. “No, son. He is upset more than anything. Jyuu-ojii-san really loves you, and what you said hurt him.”

 

“I'm sorry,” Kaien said, and his voice cracked again. The thought of hurting his beloved grandfather made him feel guilty, adding another emotion to the mangled mess currently threading through his reiatsu.

 

Patting Kaien affectionately on the side, Ichigo took in a slow breath. “He would be happy to hear that from you. He does love you, you know.”

 

He thought of the look on Jyuushiro's face when they had departed and Kaien had been studiously ignoring him, one of disheartened acceptance. Ichigo wouldn't push for anything from Kaien, didn't even think it was necessary to explain himself. Kaien's words had only deepened the guilt that Jyuushiro already lashed himself relentlessly with.

 

“I'll tell him,” Kaien whispered, tone holding an edge of remorse.

 

Ichigo didn't doubt his son for one second. And he breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn't completely screwed this up. He hadn't driven his son away by saying the wrong thing, and hopefully, he'd managed to provide some comfort.

 

Silence fell between them again as Kaien sniffled a few more times, the tears slipping down his cheeks more of a slow trickle than heart-wrenching sobs. Every once in a while, he would wipe at them. But he didn't try to break from his father's hold, and Ichigo didn't press for him to do so. After all, it wouldn't be long before Kaien would start avoiding his father's affection altogether. And Ichigo would be damned if he forced it on his son like Isshin had and still did him.

 

He could hear on the edge of his senses something stirring outside. Bird or small animal perhaps. And the wind pushing through the trees, a cold autumn wind. The soft swish as the leaves fell to the ground. He wondered how deep the snow would fall this year and remembered longingly winters past. And then unbidden, he thought of Byakuya and wondered how different the holiday season would be beside the noble rather than merely with him.

 

He also wondered just how odd it would feel without Rukia next to him and how strongly it would affect his children.

 

Ichigo thought of last winter, when things had seemed somewhere close to alright for just a short time. And he had the brief thought that things were getting better, that it was going to work out after all. It hadn't lasted. When the new year came, bringing with it the issue of work and stress, so did the strain. But he could still remember those flickering hopes and the happiness he had clung to so tightly.

 

At his side, Kaien stirred and sniffed loudly. “Tou-san?”

 

“Hmm?” Ichigo responded, removed from his increasingly melancholy thoughts.

 

There was a moment where Kaien struggled to put his words together before he continued. “I'm going to get stronger,” he replied, and it was nearly fervent, dangerously close to a vow. “Strong enough to protect everyone.”

 

It wasn't hard to draw the connection between his son's statement and the current situation. In fact, Ichigo felt echoes of his own words coming back to haunt him. A promise he had made to himself when he had lost someone important to him and when he had nearly lost those who mattered most. He thought of how everything seemed to cycle back around and repeat itself.

 

Ichigo patted Kaien's side, tilting his head to look at the ceiling as memories crested over him. “I know you will,” he replied and genuinely believed it. “I'm certain of it.”

 

All thoughts of denying Kaien his wish to become a Shinigami were crushed then and there. If that was what his son truly desired, Ichigo would not stop him. He understood the need, the desire, the drive to protect what was important.

 

Kaien made a noncommittal sound in his throat, something that Ichigo could interpret as a thank you, and that was all that was really necessary.

 

Nothing more was said between them until Ichigo urged his exhausted son up and guided the tottering boy back to his own room. There, Kaien threw himself down on his bed, burrowed half-in and half-out of the covers and promptly fell asleep. Ichigo was left to return to his own bed, where Syaoran was still sleeping peacefully.

 

He crawled in beside her and stared up at the darkened ceiling. The exhaustion of the day washed over him like a heavy wave. And soon, he slipped under the tide, following the rest of his household into a weary sleep.

 

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