There once was a man, who fell in love with a raven haired woman who had a incurable disease. This was a disease that was at that time unknown to man, thus, there was no cure. She would die. Despite that, the man ignored the advise of everyone around him and took the beautiful lady as his wife. Though she was frail with sickness, they led a happy and contented life. Until one day, two pieces of news changed their lives
One, the woman was expecting a child.
Two, she would, without fail, die should she carry the child.
The woman had a stubbornness streak in her. No matter who tried to persuade her, she would not give up her baby. To feel the beginnings of a new life within her was something she would never destroy willingly. This was a symbol of their love, she thought, and refused all the advices from the doctors. Not even when she began to lose weight. Not even when her long, beautiful hair started falling. Not even as her gums bleed and her teeth dropped, she would not abort the baby. By the seventh month of expectancy, she had to stay in the hospital permanently as she was now too weak to eat. The man stood by her quietly all these while, holding her hand, silently supporting and respecting her decision. But one day, she started to have a violent coughing fit. Blood splattered the white sheets as she coughed blood out. The doctor gave her a tranquilizing shot, and sent her to the operation room. The baby must be cut out from her, or both mother and child might not survive. The man could only watch helplessly as his wife was rolled down the aisle into the operation room. The light above the door of the room went out, signifying the end of the surgery. The doctor went out, to give the man two pieces of news again.
One, he is now the father of a healthy newborn boy.
Two, his wife has passed away.
The man closed his eyes as he absorbed the news. It was then he heard the cries of the baby. His son. The final gift his kind-hearted wife gave him. He turned to the nurse standing beside him, carrying the child. The child has inherited both his and his wife's hair. Even as a newborn, the baby already as a crop of raven-black hair. It was then he decided he would continue living for the sake of his son.
The son grew up to be his pride and joy. Watching his son go through milestones of life has made him feel blessed and contented. His son was a genius. He aced all the tests in schools, excelled in sports and was popular. He never had to worry about him. Instead, it was the son that fretted over the father. He would always catch him stare out the window with a faraway look. He knew his father could not get over the loss of his mother, even after all these years. He would then try to occupy his father by telling him about his school life or try to get him outdoors. His father never even went out with anyone after his mother's death. It was not because of his looks-he had long black hair that went to his waist and an air of gentleness and sorrow that had once captivated many- it was because of his father lack of interest. For his father's sake, he hoped that he would one day find a woman to be his step mother.
When the boy was eleven, he fainted in school during the flag raising ceremony. His father was alarmed. He quickly brought him to consult a doctor, and once again, the doctor gave him two pieces of news.
One, he has inherited his mother's disease.
Two, he will not live to see a new year.
And thus, the boy's home shifted from their apartment to a hospital room. His father shifted with him, home becoming nothing but a shell with his absence. It has merely became the place where he goes to when he is not at the hospital or the office. It pained him to see his son grow thinner and thinner, becoming but a former shell of his healthy cheerful self.
Strangely, the boy's hair did not fall out like his mother's did. Instead, it turned white. Snow-white. The father took this as a sign that maybe, just maybe, the boy might be sparred from the same fate as his wife. That he might be sparred from feeling the same agony he did when his wife died. Hope entered his life, only to be diminished as the boy's condition grew worse. His gums began to bleed, and his teeth soon dropped. He could only survive on the drip. His coughing fits began, some lasting for hours before they receded. Each cough pierced through his heart, and each splatter of blood twisted it. The boy could tell that his father was sad, thus he tried to give him a smile. His gums hurt, and his body trembled with the effort.
"I… wish I can eat… some sweets now… but I can't… will you eat some… on my behalf, dad?... It'll make you… feel… happier," he said, his voice rattling.
The father took a look at his son's face, and nodded, giving him a weak smile, and left the room.
With his back to the door, he began to cry silently. He sank down to the floor, his entire body shaking, trying to not make any sound. Inside, he could heard his son coughing again.
"Please, if there is a god, take away my son's suffering. Let me suffer instead. I'm willing to suffer on his behalf. Let me be the one that lies on the bed, that coughs out his lungs, the one that dies… Please, stop it… Let me take over…" he pleaded with the sky, tears rolling down his cheeks.
In the room, the coughing stopped.
The father rushed into the room. The boy lay on the bed, with a peaceful smile on his face. The doctors and nurses rushed in, but the man knew it was too late. He was gone.
The next morning, the mailman came round his house to deliver the paper. As he was leaving, he saw a man sprawled on the living room floor. The man had white hair of waist length.
It was later found out that the man on the floor was the man who just lost his son. The cause of death? No one was sure. Some said that he had died of grief and loneliness, that he pined for his son so much that his hair turned white. Others said that he also had a disease, and that was why his son's hair turned white too. Whatever reason it was, the man died with a peaceful smile on his face, knowing that his wish would be fulfilled.
Hitsugaya Toushiro turned and stared at the Ukitate Juushiro, the captain of the thirteenth division. He gave Hitsugaya a fatherly smile as he held out an arm load of sweets at him.
"Ukitake-taichou, I told you that I don't like sweets," he chillily replied.
"Oh, but eating sweets will make you feel better! You always look so glum, I thought sweets will help you!" Ukitake replied happily. But his face was then contorted in pain as he started coughing. Blood smeared his white handkerchief. His coughs got louder and louder, each sounding more painfully than the previous. He doubled up with pain. Hitsugaya's brows furrowed in concern.
"Are you okay, Ukitake-taichou?" he asked, voice lined with worry. At the sound of his voice, Ukitake stood up and wiped away the blood. He gave him a weak smile, and said, "I'll feel better knowing you ate my sweets." and dumped all the sweets into his hands. He messed up Hitsugaya's spiky white hair with one hand and slowly walked away.
Hitsugaya stared at the back of the leaving taichou. Somehow, he always felt a connectedness with the white haired man. It was as if… they knew each other when they were alive. It also seemed that he had somehow…sacrificed himself for him. Hitsugaya shook his head. That was impossible. He looked at the sweets in his arms. He would never admit it to anyone else, but he sort of like it when Ukitake gave him these sweets. Looking left and right to make sure no one was looking, Hitsugaya unwrapped a sweet and popped it into his mouth.
Hiding in a corner, Ukitake smiled as he saw Hitsugaya's contented face
