Ichigo sighed dramatically at a timid rapping of his bedroom door. He set his scribbling pencil down for the first time in hours. It rolled aimlessly under the spotlight of a blaring desk lamp when Ichigo's stiff joints protested to a stand.
"Oi—Yuzu," Ichigo groggily exclaimed at the present face looking up at him when he reluctantly slid his bedroom door open. Ichigo sighed impatiently at the weak, hopeful smile he observed. Then, he replaced his unreadable expression with a sympathetic appearance. "Nani, Yu-chan?" He whispered curiously.
Yuzu pursed her lips and rocked back and forth on her barefoot heels in the dark hallway. "Um…um…"
Her older brother knelt down in his pajamas to her eye level and gently took hold of her forearms. He chuckled warmly. Fidgeting was a nervous habit that she still hadn't grown out of yet. "You can tell me."
It seemed she already knew what her brother's answer would be, but she continued. "Can you tuck me in?"
There it was, the imperceptible tension in Ichigo's jaw that showed even though he attempted to mask it. Yuzu sighed dejectedly the second she recognized it.
"Ask Oto-san, ne?"
She shook her head. "I want you to do it, Ichi-nii."
"Well," Ichigo released his assuring grip from Yuzu's arms for a brief moment to rub his eyes. "It's one in the morning. I know I'm staying up too, but, I've got a lot of work to catch up on, and…"
There it was, the same excuse he always came up with. Yuzu began to blink quickly as she fumbled for a new set of phrases and squeezed her tiny arms tighter.
"Stop it," Yuzu sobbed suddenly, piercing the dozing silence of the Kurosaki household with a heartbroken squeak. Ichigo swallowed hard as one large tear rolled down Yuzu's redden cheeks and splattered onto the cold, wooden floor. "You just don't want us around you anymore 'cause you're always running away! I hate you, I hate you!" She croaked. "You're not sorry. You hate me and everyone that wants to spend time with you!"
Ichigo pulled his sobbing little sister into his chest. "Yuzu…" He began, hoping the stirring sheets from the far end of the hall would quiet. Once the stirring ceased, Ichigo spoke softly again. "I don't hate anybody. You know that."
"Then why are you always gone?" Yuzu implored tremblingly. It was the only chance she would have in a long time to voice her turbulent premonitions. "You always leave us alone. Where are you going, Nii-chan?"
Ichigo remained silent for a moment, feeling incredulous for attempting a foolhardy façade of presence to the people that were closest to him. The thought singed his insides with guilt.
"…Okay." Ichigo stated firmly, rocking Yuzu gently in his embrace until her shoulders stopped shaking. Slowly, he stood up, holding Yuzu closer still. With his unoccupied hand, he shut his ajar door and strolled down the dark hall to a small, secluded room.
Entering Yuzu's room was like walking into an abandoned, pink carnival. A butterfly nightlight flooded her room with a violet, magical glow; stuffed animals crowded every shelf; wax crayon drawings threatened to mask the wallpaper completely; toys scattered the floor like the aftermath of war. Ichigo stood at the doorway and smiled nostalgically. Karin would have thrown away stuff like that years ago, by now.
A quiet sniffle just below his chin reminded him why he arrived there. He continued toward her miniature bed at the corner of the room next to a window with shimmering pink drapes. Gingerly, he set her down on the mattress covered with the quilt Yuzu's mother had made for her shortly after Yuzu was born. Yuzu giddily wiped her eyes and wrapped herself in the quilt.
Ichigo had a faint—yet accurate—recollection of where Yuzu kept all of her brushes. It had been a year, but he was relieved he could still remember.
A whole year, Ichigo realized. The burning sensation inside him flared.
The brushes were all gathered in a small, jeweled chest tucked underneath the feet of Yuzu's bed. Ichigo retrieved the chest and sank down beside her on the yielding fabric of the quilt.
She wouldn't stop smiling, and it unintentionally rubbed off on her older brother, who doubled over for a short moment to share a bout of anxious giggles. What the hell were they laughing about? Why was he so embarrassed? He couldn't tell. To anyone else, the sight of Ichigo Kurosaki with a glittering box of princess combs would've been a hallucination.
Ichigo commenced with a random selection from the chest.
"No! That one." Yuzu demanded, guiding her brother's calloused hands towards the dark brown brush with the softest thistles. He nodded, returned the box underneath the bed, and then adjusted Yuzu's doll like frame before him. When he stretched out his legs, he realized how soft her covers really were. It was almost as if he had slid his bare feet onto clouds of cotton candy. Yuzu giggled when she saw how content he looked just to wriggle his toes in her fabric, but she understood he was just getting comfortable. It had been a while since he combed her hair.
The first few strokes were a little hesitant. Yuzu no longer had the long tresses he was used to. In time, Ichigo found his rhythm. The therapeutic strokes became a meditational focus, like sensing reiatsu.
No, Ichigo corrected himself after some consideration.
A calmer concentration settled in his brown eyes. He returned to Yuzu's delicate crown after one long, thoughtful stroke to the end of her neck. This is different. Very different.
"Gomen," Yuzu whispered after a long silence.
Ichigo used his other palm to smoothly follow behind the comb tracing even spaces in her brown tresses. "Nani you?"
"You probably had important things to do."
"Shut up." Ichigo scoffed a little too loudly. He allowed the sweeping, feathery glide of the comb's hairs to fill his sense again. "It's okay to ask for what you want, Yuzu. What you feel is important."
After a pensive, tranquil while, Yuzu became drowsy. Ichigo returned the brush to its chest and tucked Yuzu underneath her bulky quilt. While Ichigo made sure the material was secure around her shoulders, Yuzu bravely pecked her brother's hovering cheek. Ichigo met her eyes for an admiring instant, and then he returned the gesture by giving her a tender kiss on her forehead. Yuzu smiled contentedly and rolled over to her side. Within seconds, she began to exhale in long, even breaths.
Why was it that Ichigo's soul had room for so many things, but his heart, at that moment, only had enough room for one?
Ichigo watched Yuzu's covers lightly inflate and deflate with every breath she took. He swore in his life that he had never seen anything so precious.
It wrought him to his core.
