Lullaby
By LoveAnimeForever
"I'm home!" Ichigo's voice rings throughout the house with false cheer.
When I turn to face him, his dinner in my hands, ready to be set out, his face is strained, his smile made of plaster. His reiatsu is weary and thin, unlike before – before all this, when it was warm and loving. It hurts to see him like this, knowing that he's pretending so we don't worry, knowing that it's killing him inside. We – Karin and I – know that there's something up, though we pretend not to, so he doesn't worry. (All this pretending, I don't like it – we're a family, we shouldn't be like this…) But we have little bits and pieces of information from when he wakes up screaming at night, things like "Aizen! I'll kill you!" or "Hichigo! Stop it! Let me back out!" or "Rukia! Renji! No!" that we bring to Urahara whenever we have the chance. He never used to tell us anything, but now even he is too exhausted to keep up the mysterious façade. Some things we still don't know about, but we get the gist of it – Ichigo, instead of going to school as everyone believes he is (that was Postuff at school, apparently) is getting into battles on a daily basis. He could die, too, just like Rukia and our father. It's not a pleasant thought.
But, even though all this is happening, when he comes home, it's our job to make life normal for him – as normal as we can get, anyway.
Lullaby, lullaby,
Go to sleep my strawberry,
When you wake up in the morning,
Everything will be alright.
I'll never admit it, but I drug his dinner. Urahara approves, says it helps him rest, and supplies harmless sleeping pills, so I guess it isn't that bad. Like this, Ichigo can rest easier – he doesn't have a choice. Karin helps me get him, bleary-eyed and protesting weakly, upstairs. Every day, he will ask, what's going on, Yuzu, what's happening, why am I like this? And of course, both of us are so guilty… We daren't tell him, and he wakes up unknowing. So now, we're in his room, I'm on his bed, sitting against the headrest, and we've arranged Ichigo on my lap. Karin leaves as I thread my hands through his hair, like our mother used to do, and I start singing.
Na na na Na na na
Na na na na na na na
Na na na Na na na
Na na na na na na
"Is he asleep?" Karin pokes her head round the doorway, and I nod, gently adjusting Ichigo to lie properly on his bed, careful not to wake him.
We leave, praying that tomorrow he will be as peaceful as he is now, that we will no longer need to do this, the once comforting lullaby now a haunting melody of guilt.