A calm, quiet afternoon at a park.
That's where Kuroh resides with his family.
Although, to be more accurate, his grandfather and older brother stayed at home. His grandfather was a frail, old man, and his brother, Haru, had insisted on staying home with him, most likely to listen to the countless stories the elderly man had.
At the park, however, his sister, Mari, runs straight to the swing set, their mother at her side and pushing her on it. Kuroh remains with his father on a bench, where an invisible veil seems to separate.
The short boy kicks his feet absentmindedly, and begins looking over at his father. He's a tall man, with dark brown hair, blue eyes accesorised with thick-rimmed glasses, and a few freckles here and there on his face.
"Dad, why's it that you're in a suit? Aren't you hot?" Kuroh questions. Sure, the air was cooling down with the approach of autumn, but still, the suit seems suffocating.
The freckled man blinks at his son's inquiry, and smiles softly before he loosens his tie. "I suppose I could afford to dress a bit more casually when we go out like this." He adjusts glasses while patting Kuroh's head. "But for today, don't worry about me. I'm fine."
Wide, greyish-blue eyes stare at him. "Are you sure?" Kuroh presses.
"Yes, Kuroh," his father soothes, "Now then, speaking of worry, wouldn't you prefer to be playing out on the playground rather than speaking to me right now?"
Kuroh shakes his head, a light smile on his face. "This is fine. It's nice to be able to talk to you." His smile widens when, once more, his head is pat.
A light silence fills the air between the father and son. What interrupts it is his father gently tugging at his hair.
"We ought to get to get your haircut soon. You're starting to look like your mother."
Kuroh shrugs. "That's not so bad."
"I'm sure, but you should hear your mother when she complains about getting tangles. Sometimes she even yanks her hair by accident when she gets up in the morning."
"I do not." A slim, black haired woman approaches the duo, a sleeping Mari resting her head on the woman's shoulder. Her hair is down, and she flips it off her other shoulder, her warm eyes focusing on her son. "Kuroh, he's exaggerating, I've never had that much trouble with my hair."
She crouches down to stroke Kuroh's hair. "Besides, your hair's a fine length. Granted if it does get a bit longer you'll have to start using a hair tie."
Again, the thought of that doesn't sound so bad to Kuroh. In fact, while his mother rarely does put her hair up, when she does, it's styled in a wispy braid or loose bun. And no matter what, she looks pretty and is always nice.
His mother smiles. "Thank you, Kuroh." She straightens up, careful not to disturb Mari, and suggests that they return home for today.
Without warning, Kuroh's father picks him up and nods in agreement.
"You know, now that the leaves are changing, it would be nice to go out and see some of them sometime soon," his father notes.
His mother nods in agreement. "A family outing to look at leaves?"
"It's a popular thing, you know."
"Perhaps we should go, then. Would you like that, Kuroh?"
The boy nods, a wide smile on his face. "That sounds fun!"
- Break -
A dim, hazy light covers Kuroh's face. He slowly opens them, barely focusing on the particles of dust seeming to sparkle in the rays of light.
Eventually, he sits up, painfully aware that he isn't in a commercial bed, but a traditional, old bed on the wooden floor.
The eleven year old rubs his eyes – they sting, for some reason. So does his nose. In his chest, there's the faint weight of something he can't pinpoint.
Looking around the room, his gaze rests on a clock and its time.
His eyes widen.
I overslept!
Just like that, he shoots up from bed and rushes to get dressed appropriately, muttering to himself about how much of Master Ichigen's time he must have wasted now. He's stumbling out of his room and hurries to Master Ichigen's side.
"Ah, Kuroh, good morning." The man's warm voice greets Kuroh as any other morning. His smile, however, drops a bit at the state Kuroh is in. "Kuroh, are you alright?"
The boy shakes his head, panting a bit from his rush. "No! I mean! Yes, yes, I'm fine, Master Ichigen. I'm sorry for sleeping in so late." He bows his head, hair covering his eyes.
He doesn't move and remains silent.
At the feeling of a hand stroking his head, Kuroh stiffens.
"Master Ichigen?"
"Your hair's gotten long, Kuroh. You should start wearing it up to keep it from getting in your face during training tomorrow."
Kuroh straightens up with a puzzled expression. "Tomorrow? Wasn't it today?"
"I had a change of heart, it appears I only got up a few minutes ago myself, so it seems today is one of leisure for the both of us." Ichigen speaks while pulling a piece of ribbon out, and calmly bunches Kuroh's hair up into a pony tail. "There. Much better. That look suits you." He gestures to one of the few glass windows in the residence, and a faint reflection of Kuroh is visible.
Kuroh is quiet for what seems to be years, his blue eyes widened slightly and fixated on stray strands of black hair. The sting in his eyes and nose return, along with the weight in his chest.
"Kuroh?" Ichigen crouches near the boy, firm hands on his shoulders. "Are you alright?"
A tight feeling rushes into Kuroh's throat and he hastily rubs at his eyes, a genuine, but out of nowhere smile on his face. "I. I'm fine," he mutters, "Yes, I'm just fine. I really am." Why is he smiling? What is he crying? He really wasn't sure.
But if there's one thing he's sure of, it is that he would never cut his hair.