Growing Up With You

by HadenXCharm

When we met, I was just a stupid kid. I probably drove you nuts, but you never sent me away. I remember those long summers together when I was trying so hard to become a man, and you made thing seem so easy. That kid is a warrior now, but I still remember. I'm proud, this is who I've become, and I will not falter. I will not look back. (Twin-fic to Growing Out of Me - Ikkaku POV)

1. Chapter 1

When I first meet you, I look at you like the stars that shine. You're so pretty, I can't believe it. Wow... I didn't even know that things that pretty even exist. I wonder how you got like that and I know it couldnta' been by accident. You must be an angel. I have to follow you.

Of course, I figure out that you're not actually an angel, because where are you wings, otherwise? Maybe even though I know that, I still stay because you feed me. I didn't know right away that you have spirit power like me, but when you offer to buy me meat even though I just kicked your sweetie in the junk, I say yes right away. How can a hungry boy like me resist?

I thought you might've been mad and just wanted to go kill me somewhere like you were with that guy, but ugh, that meat is so good. I can't help myself, I just can't help it, and I come with you and I eat so much. I can't remember the last time that I ate because I legally bought something. I try not to steal, because I'm not very good at it, but it's not like I'm just going to find bread or fish laying in the middle of the woods. Gotta' eat somehow.

I keep following you and you keep feeding me. I love you.

You walk in front of me, always in front of me, and your hair is so pretty from here. I'm not short for my age, but I'm shorter than you are, and your hair is right there, so close by. It's dark and long and shiny like a fish's back. It's beautiful.

The first time I touch, you jump so high that I thought you'd hurt yourself by stepping on a stick or something, but you whip around and look at me, eyes so wide that I can see white all the way around the purple part. I put my hand on my mouth, because I feel bad. You're mad at me, aren't you, and I feel so bad that I can't stop looking at my feet. You tell me not to do that again, ever, and I don't. I don't, but I always remember how it felt. It was so soft, softer than a bunny's fur.

I pick you handfuls of flowers, and sometimes you say they're weeds, but I can't see the difference. You know the names, and I didn't even know flowers had names. You know tree names too and rock names and you never forget my name either. You never call me 'stupid' or 'gaki' or 'bozu' or 'bastard', and you don't say to me, 'fuck off.' I love you.

You don't talk so much, but I try hard to get you to, because everything you say is important. It sounds that way, at least. You don't look old, but you know a lot of things. When my shinai started falling apart because I let it rest in a puddle for too long, you figured out how to fix it by drying some new bamboo and tying it in with a piece of cloth.

Yumichika, you're so smart. I love you. I love you so much, Yumichika.

I walk behind you, and you look back a lot. I don't know why. Why do you do that, huh? I'm right here. I'm even holding your hand most of the time, so it's not like you're thinking I got lost. I wonder why you do that so much. It can't be me that you're looking back at, because I'm obviously right here. I turn around a lot too because you make it seem like someone's following us, but no one is. It's just me, and it's just you.

I'm so happy I'm with you. You're so weird, but I think you're good. I like you. You're prettier than everyone and smarter than everyone, and even though I guess you're not nice, you're not mean to me either, and that's pretty good, I think. You are really good, and I want to stay with you. You keep on letting me hang around, and I'm so happy.

I know you think I'm annoying, because I can see so on your face. Your nose crinkles when I get more dirty than usual, and you don't really smile at all. Not even when I make a fish-face. I don't get why. I'm happy with you, aren't I? I'm smiling all the time. Don't you like me too? No one else does, but I think that you must, because you don't tell me to go away and you don't leave without me.

I'd think you were trying to, if it wasn't for all the times you look back for me.

My steps are smaller than yours, even though my legs are long and stupid and skinny like a dumb bird. I have to walk fast to keep up, even though I can hardly see you talking a step under that kimono. You walk so calmly that it's like you're floating or something, because your feet are so quiet. You wrap your yukata so that the neckline is really high, and your hands are always hiding in those sleeves, and it makes me want to get inside there and be hugged and warm. My momma would let me inside her coat. She'd carry me, but you don't. You never do. I was so tired that one time, but you still wouldn't. I guess I'm too big for that now anyways, huh.

Screw it though, I'm still holding your hand. I'm not too old for that, and I'm gonna' do it, cause' I wanna'. You don't get to hide your hand in that sleeve all the time with me here. I'm gonna' grab your hand as many times as it takes. It's not like you ever pull away, but when I let go and get distracted, back it goes, like you're trying to hide. I won't let you. I want to hold your hand so that we're always together.

I really really like you, Yumichika. I love you. You're so beautiful. You're so cool. I have to hug you so that you know. I have to give you a kiss, because I can't hold all of this in. I like you so much. I wanna' be near you all the time. I don't think you like it, but you don't tell me no, so I keep on hugging you, petting you, holding your hand. You don't smile, so I think you're sad about something. You're all alone except for me, so I'll be your friend. My mom told me that sometimes sad people just need to feel that someone cares. Maybe you're so lost and lonely that you won't know that I care unless I touch. I don't have enough words to say it, and I can't control it, so I have to touch.

Yumichika, you're so cool. I want you to like me this much too.

You always know things beforehand, don't you? I get into trouble a lot because I think I know what I'm doing, but then it turns out that I really don't. I feel really stupid when that happens. I talk a lotta' crap, don't I? You don't seem real to me with the way you know things. How can you know so many things? How do you have so much self-control of your body that you've never lost your temper or yelled or hit me, that you've never spanked me?

I want to be like you.

You always seem to know everything, you're so smart. You'll tell me things before they happen, and then I'll realize that I've gotten hurt in the past by doing the exact same thing and that you were right. I might get sick in the rain you say, and I have before from playing in it. I probably won't be able to make a jump that big, you say, and you're right, I've missed in the past and hurt myself. As long as you don't make it sound like I have to listen, I do.

'That fall is too high, climb down a little further first,' you'll say, and I don't listen because I think I know better, and I leap from the tree. I twist my ankle around, and it hurts so bad. That's what I get for not listening to you. You always know. You know what's good, and I start listening.

I listen to those mean kids a lot too. Mean grown-ups, mean shinigami, mean shop-owners. I can't help but listen. It's easy for them to pick on me, I know it is, because I look different, don't I? It's not fair for them to say those things when they're not true. I'm not stupid, I'm not ugly, I'm not worthless, right? I'm not, I'm not, and I repeat this over and over, but the words never come out right when the moment comes, and I get so frustrated when I try to tell them to stop that I can't say anything and before I know it, I'm crying. I'm so mad and embarrassed, I'm so mad and I want to do something, but it all just comes out as tears. I'm the worst. I'm a baby.

You're always so calm when I'm a mess. You never cry, Yumichika. I bet grown-ups never cry.

I always walk behind you, with you in front of me, so I can see where you are. I like looking at you. I want to feel your hair again so bad. I don't think I've ever wanted anything so badly. I wonder how it feels on your neck. Is it ever itchy or annoying? Does it get in your face and poke your eyes? I want to feel it so badly. I think I had hair when I was little. I think I did, but I'm not sure.

The other boys tease me all the time and it makes me so mad. I have to try hard not to cry and kick a tree when I think about it. Sometimes I can't stop thinking about it and I start crying anyway. It makes me so mad to think about the stuff they say. They make me so so mad that I can't even talk. I hate them. It's not my fault that I can't grow anything on my head. It's not. If I could, then I would, but I can't. All they do is try to make me feel bad, and it works every time. Someday, someday it won't hurt, I tell myself, but I don't believe that. I'm always gonna' look like this, and people are always gonna' tease me for it. I'll always feel bad about it. I'll grow up maybe, but I'll always remember what they said. I'm so mad. I hate being this way. I hate that they always have to remind me of that. I feel like freak. I hate myself.

I feel like a lizard boy.

You don't touch me to comfort me. You never do, and I don't know why. My mom used to hug me and hold me a lot, and I crave that, I want it so bad, but you never do. Come to think of it, you never even pat my back in return when I hug you. I mean, I'm not tall enough yet, but I can pull you down around the shoulders or hug you under the armpits, but you could hug me any time you wanted, and you don't, so I have to do it. You don't look like you like it, but you don't push me away. What I'd do to know what could make you hug me back.

When I was like seven or eight and I was starting out on my own and I'd start crying, it'd be a dumb circle of me almost calming down and then getting mad again and crying again, and it didn't stop until I cried so hard that I threw up or I got tired out and fell asleep. It was the saddest, worst thing in the world. I'm awful.

Now that you're here, you of course see me when I lose control of myself, but you don't comfort me. I want you to hold me so badly. I want you to put your arms around me and rub my back until I can calm down, but you never do.

My arms are hugging my knees, and my head is resting there as I sob and shakily tell you what happened. I feel like a baby, and the embarrassment of it just makes the bad feeling worse. I feel so stupid in front of you like this, and you won't touch me or look at me. I'm a mess. "They said it again," I choke out angrily, hitting the ground repeatedly and wailing. It wasn't fair, it wasn't fair that they could say that. They don't have a weak point like I do. They don't have something that I can talk about that will turn them into this weak mess, like they do for me.

"Ikkaku, I don't accept self-pity," you say quietly, resolutely looking the other way, sitting in a seiza like nothing's going on, like I'm not screaming my head off over here. I get through with my tantrum, my arms and legs getting tired out, and I just clasp my hands over my mouth, snuffling and gasping uncontrollably, trying to calm my breaths, but it doesn't work. I need you to rub my back and help me breathe slower. I shuffle over to you and put my face against your arm. You gently push my body away and I flop over dramatically with a sob at the rejection.

I ball up on the ground and sniffle. I want my mom.

"You have one minute to stop crying, or I'm walking away," you say, and I know you mean it. You've done it before. I have to get my body under control or I'm going to be crying by myself in the woods. If I get it together, I have the opportunity to stay near you.

"Okay," I whimper miserably, and I wipe my eyes. I take a long sniff and a deep breath and I feel much better.

You give me a satisfied look and stand up. I scrub at my face with my knuckles and wrists until I don't feel so sticky. My diaphragm hitches every once in a while without my control, and it takes almost an hour for that to stop, but otherwise it's like nothing ever happened. You don't bring it up and I'm glad you don't. I'm so embarrassed by it. I'm too big for this, aren't I. I'm too old, but I can't help it.

I wish you would hold me when I'm crying. I don't cry when I'm sad, but I can't take embarrassment. I feel so ashamed of myself that I can't help but bawl, and it just makes me feel worse. The problem is I can't stop once I get started. Sometimes I seriously can't and you walk off and leave me until I cry myself out. It'd be easier if you'd just help me feel better. I want you to hold me and tell me that I'm not those things that those people call me. I try to hug you when I cry, but you don't let me.

Maybe you think I'm ugly too, like they do. You call stuff ugly all the time, and I feel ugly too. You don't love me, do you. I touch you because I love you, but you don't touch me. Hardly ever. You don't love me. You won't hold me and you don't want me close. Don't you care when I feel bad? Why don't you care when I cry? Can't you see that I'm breaking apart? It'd be so easy for you to help me, why won't you? Hold me, hold me together, please.

"They did it again!" I'm screaming this time and kicking my legs. I'm so mad! I am so mad! I hit my shinai against a tree as hard as I can and the force rattles up my arms. I want to break their skulls, I want to knock their teeth in. How dare they, how dare they, it isn't fair! "They called me it again," I blubber, finally calming down from my tantrum and breaking into tears, dropping down to my knees. I am such a mess. They're right about me.

You won't hold me. You won't even look at me. My face is ugly like this, isn't it, red from tears, wet from snot, drawn into a ghastly grimace as I wail at the sky. Why was I born like this? You won't hold me and I can't stop crying. I feel like a lizard and I can't stand it.

I want my mother.

"They keep saying it!" I howl, sobbing once and then screaming until I feel my throat hurt. I flop onto my hands and knees and cry, watching the ground get wet.

"But you beat them up, didn't you," you say plainly, turning away from me. I paused in my crying for a moment, breath shaking. I did beat them up. You're right.

But... I hadn't been quick enough to keep them from saying it in the first place though. I'd still had to hear it. I'd still had to be humiliated. My lip quivers and I shake with rage, my eyes welling up. I try to keep my mouth shut to keep the crying inside, but it doesn't work. It still comes out. My eyelashes are sticking together now and I can't focus on anything, nothing is here inside me but me being angry and hurt and upset.

You still don't look at me, so bland in your tone. "Become even stronger, and they won't dare open their mouths against you." I blink my wet eyes.

I wonder if a day like that will come where they'll be so afraid of me that they would never speak cruelly to me, I wonder if I could become that strong that they wouldn't dare insult me.

I wonder if one day I could become a warrior, and when people see me the first thing they note won't be how strange I look, but how strong I look.

I sniffle, my howls ending as I lapse into silence, hiccuping and sniffing every once in a while. You've told me things like this before, to become stronger, and I try. It makes me feel so much better when you say things like that, because now there's something I can do about it. I don't have to sit here and take it when the screams come out of me. I can do something about it, I don't have to let this happen. You know everything, don't you. You're so smart, Yumichika.

I feel pathetic, I feel so ashamed, but I pull myself together. It gets easier every time, and soon, I'm whimpering, not blubbering, I'm sniffling, not whimpering, and before I know it I'm just telling you about how I feel instead of ever even breaking into tears. Those days of me being unable to stop myself from screaming and wailing are gone.

You tell me to get stronger, but you never say 'take it like a man', or 'man up', or 'shake it off' like he always did... You don't say 'it's okay', or 'they're wrong' like she did. You tell me to prove them wrong. I do. I always do. When I grow up, I'm never gonna' let anyone make a fool outta' me. I'll be strong enough then to shut them up.

I'll get stronger, until those words don't hurt anymore.

I feel calmer, more in control of myself now, and I'm so proud. I hope you can tell, I hope you notice that I'm doing what you said to do and that I feel so much better. I'm not a mess now unless I choose to be. I have a choice and you showed me that. I don't have to be a slave to their words. I be what I choose to be. I feel more like you. I feel much calmer, and I don't feel like an explosion waiting to happen.

Now that I'm not in distress all the time or having fights with those guys, I have more time to play, and I start making different friends, friends who know that I'll beat them up if they don't show me the same respect that I show them. I'm not mean, I don't think I'm mean to them, but they know not to mess with me. We play, but I always come back to you after a little while. I should probably feel like a little kid around you, but I don't. I feel like a man with you.

We leave our district together, and I don't complain. I don't have anything here that I'm leaving behind really. I like to travel with you, although I don't understand why you're always looking back when you lead. We're not going anywhere in particular, right? So what does it matter? What do you have to be unsure of?

I start to pay closer attention to you now that we're spending all day every day together, walking from the early morning until about an hour before sunset. You seem to know people everywhere, at least that's what I assume, since you talk to a lot of men with a smooth voice and a little smile that you never use around me. You let them touch you, and I don't understand. Why don't you let me? Don't you like me too?

"Why did that man spank you?" I ask one day, because I'd been pondering it for about an hour but couldn't figure out why. "Is he your dad?" I wonder.

"He's old enough to be," you mumble.

"Huh?" I don't understand, but you don't explain.

That guy turns up again when I'm playing with you. You don't play with me very often, but you were today, and I don't want to be interrupted by this man. I'm having so much fun playing that I don't want your attention to be taken away from me. He's grinning really wide and I don't like the looks of his yellow teeth. I wonder if I'll grow hair on my face like that when I become a man, and I hope I don't. How could this guy be your friend? He's… he's really ugly.

You tell me that you want to play hide and seek, and that I should hide first. I don't want to. You were just teaching me to play pick-up sticks and I want to finish. That guy makes a low sound but I ignore him. He's not the boss of me. I tell you that I don't want to play hide and seek right now, I want to finish our game. You tell me again to go hide so that you can come find me. It's a game, you say. It'll be fun.

I don't want to. I was about to win pick-up sticks. Besides, I know this game. I know how you play hide-and-seek. You're a bad seeker. You take so long. I tell you I don't like that game and that I want to stay with you guys.

That man hits me in the side of the head so hard that I feel like my brain rattles in my skull. He actually boxed my ear. He really hit me. "Owww!" I yell, and I scowl viciously and kick him in the ankle. He hits me again, and you're there, you're watching, but you don't tell him to stop.

You look nervous and it scares me. I stop short from where I was punching him over and over in his stomach. The hairs on my back stand up. I didn't know that you got afraid of anything. If you're afraid, then there's something to be afraid of. I'd better listen.

"Ikkaku, I'd like you to go hide. I'll start counting right now," you say calmly, eyes telling me to go.

I say 'okay' and run off. I could hear you start counting, but after a bit, I was far enough away that I couldn't hear you anymore. I hide in a tree for a really long time. I sing some songs and kick my legs, I hang from the branches, I mope, and when you finally find me, you're by yourself and you don't look so good.

"I hated him," I tell you, and I climb down. I'm jealous and mad, but it's okay. You're back now, and we can play some more.

"Yes, what a filthy man," you agree, and your voice sounds scratchy.

You say you ache and you don't feel like playing now. You must have gotten tired out from playing with him. I'm so jealous that I feel like hitting something.

We go into town together later in the week, and after we eat, we're walking down the dusty road, and the back of my neck starts prickling, and I feel sick. Dread claws up my spine and up ahead I think I see him. It's not him, but it looks like him. You and he have never met, but I must have seen him before, because he's familiar. He's tall and big, and I don't like him. My knees are hurting and wobbling around. I don't think I can walk in a straight line.

To my dismay, he comes up to us and starts talking to you. Oh no, are you friends with him too? You're giving that little smile and touching your neck slightly. No, don't talk to him. Take us away from here, I beg in my head.

He gets mean and scowly and leans close to your face. I'm so scared that I think I'm going to pee. I think I'm going to throw up, but I just hold onto your belt, standing behind you. It's stupid, because he's way bigger than you too, but you're so calm, like things are okay. Things must be okay then. You know what to do. You know what to do, you always do, and as long as you're there, I will be safe. I just have to stay back here, and I'll be safe. You'll keep me safe.

I hold onto you tight, but you push me off without even looking at me. I'm huddling behind you, bunching myself up really small, hoping that he won't look at me, that he won't see me, but you're walking off, leaving me there by myself. Immediately, my throat closes up and hurts like it always did before I had a meltdown. I'm panicking and I think I'm gonna' throw up. I really think I'm going to throw up, I'm going to cry, you have to stay here with me, he's looking at me!

I stand there for a second staring up at the guy, shaking slightly, and I feel my knees going weak as this smile slowly spreads on his face. I feel a breath leave me and suddenly I'm running, I'm running after you and whimpering softly. I miss my mom, I want my mom, but I only have you. Please, please don't turn me away. I can't be by myself with him back there watching me go.

You're the grown-up, I need your guidance, I need your reassurance. "What if he follows us?" I whine helplessly, looking back over and over. I need you to say it'll be okay, that you'll kill him, that you'll beat him up and not let him hurt me.

"What will you do if that happens?" you ask in return, and I pause...

Maybe if he follows us, I'll pop his eye out and bite him. I tell you that out loud, and you nod in satisfaction. You don't say anything else and I wonder for a minute why you'd even...

Huh.

I already feel a little braver.

I stop turning around and just hurry after you.

Your advice was always like that, cryptic, and it made me think for myself. It was never easy things, it was never openly loving, and it made me feel powerless, but eventually it seemed to work. Sink or swim was a pretty risky method, but lucky for me, I could swim pretty okay once I got going. How did you always know it would work? It must be because you're a grown-up. You just know these things.

I've never thought of you as my father, or even my older brother. You're not my 'nii-san' or my 'aniki', you're just Yumichika. You're just… there, I guess. You're not the boss of me, you'd don't tell me my bedtime or punish me ever, but I still need you like nothing else I've ever felt.

Maybe you remind me a little of my older sister when she was around. I never thought you were a girl of course, not even once, but it's just that only girls out here are pretty, and you're just so beautiful. Your face, I just love your face.

I like you so much, Yumichika. I'm so full of beans, I'm so wound-up and I want to share that with you. You're so calm and flat sometimes that I want to try to wake you up. I have so much energy, I want to run and play, but you don't. You want to sit and rest, but I want to play. Please play with me. Don't you think I'm fun?

I've accepted that you don't like wrestling or getting dirty. You pet every single toad and bird and snake that I catch to show you. You say thank you when I pick pretty leaves and flowers and give them to you. You won't play leap-frog no matter how much I ask, you absolutely refuse to wrestle, or dig holes, or play in the rain. You always say you're too tired or that you're sore.

You don't like to play, I guess. Maybe grown-ups just don't like playing anymore. The only kind of playing you ever do is when I absolutely beg, or when you meet with those guys. You've called them your playmates before when I ask if they're your friends. I wonder what kind of games grown-ups play. They must be secret. I think that for a long time and I'm jealous. Maybe when I grow up, then you'll play with me.

We stay in an inn for the first time instead of sleeping in a field, and I'm excited to sleep in the bed. Aw man, it's been ages since I slept in a bed. The straw pokes me all over and it's really itchy, but it's raining today and I don't want to sleep in the wet grass outside. It doesn't smell good in here, but I can fall asleep easy with you next to me. You're so soft and warm, your heartbeat… oh…

Once when I came back from playing, I heard noises and waited outside our door, because it was closed and had something tied around the handle. I didn't understand what you were doing, why a man opened the door and let me in after a while, and then left with a nod. What I did understand was that we ate that night and that we traded rooms for a better one. I didn't make the connection until I was tall enough to look in your eye without tilting my head up.

I know you don't like those ugly men. I know that you don't, that they're not really your friends, because even though you smile when you start talking to them, after they're gone, you don't smile. I think that when I grow up and become a man, I can marry you and then you won't have to touch those ugly guys ever again. You'll be happy with me, I promise. You'll smile all the time, only at me. We can get married, and I'll be your best friend. We'll go everywhere together forever.

It feels right, so it must be right.

I have to hurry and become a man. That way, you won't need those guys, you'll only need me. To grow up, I have to be stronger.

I want a sword so bad, but I'm not ready for it. I know I'm not. Even so, you get me a bokken, and I'm so happy. I look so cool with this. I let you have my shinai and we fight together if I beg you for long enough. You're so graceful. You beat me, but I'm learning fast. Oh, Yumichika, you're so cool. You move like water. I fix my grip like you show me and now I never drop this thing. When I have a sword, I will never drop it, I promise.

I want to become strong, I want to fight by your side. I have to grow up, but I know that I can't eat too much anymore. It occurs to me about the money – where exactly do you get it? You always have more and then more, but I don't think you have a job, since we're always moving from town to town. I think… I think you must get it from those men, but what do you have that they want? What would they pay for?

I think... I think you kiss men for money. I hope I'm wrong. I don't want you to. I think that you kiss men, and there aren't any good-looking men out here. I can't believe that you'd have to do something like that with ugly people, so I try to help the food last, I try to help the money last so that you don't have to do it so often. I'm so so hungry, but I pretend that I'm not as hungry as I really am.

You probably kiss men for money. That must be it, because they try touching you when they see you, they touch your body like they want to kiss you. Why wouldn't they want to kiss you? You're the prettiest person out here and you're so nice to look at. They're probably lonely living someplace like this and they like you. They want to kiss you, and you let them if they pay maybe.

I obsess over this, and once I realize that you probably do that with all those guys you talk to, I make the connection between your smile before to lure them in, and your smile being gone afterwards. You want them to think you like it, but you really don't. It hurts you to do that, but you want money for us, you tell me I'm a growing boy and that I need lots of meat and eggs to be strong and healthy. You don't really like doing that with them. You do it because you have to. You don't really like it. Once I realize that, I don't kiss you ever again.

You might have to do it with them, but I'll never make you do it with me. I want you to be happy so bad. You're always so good to me, and you deserve to only smile. I want you to find a man that you want to kiss. Sometimes you do and they'll come with us for a while.

Sometimes they really seem to like you too. I don't know why, but none of them ever seem to like me or want me around. You never tell them to leave me alone or knock it off, and I put up with it, because I can see how your eyes shine when they say they love you. I love you too, but you don't look at me like that. I love you too, Yumichika. I love you. Love me more than them. I was here first.

A man that you actually really liked leaves you. He'd been with us for three months, and then left. He was with someone else, and I could see that you're hurt, that you're insulted, because you walk around all day with this dazed look on your face. No matter what I do or say, you don't say a word, I can't shake you out of it.

You don't cry, but I can tell you're sad, you're really sad. You can't get up in the morning and you're just staring off to the side, lying on the ground motionless. I touch you, and you jerk wildly, but go still again. I heft you into my skinny arms and drag you into a sitting position. Your head flops lifelessly, and I swallow hard, lowering you back down.

How do I take care of you? Are you sick? Are you hurt? You can't be, I would know. You're just sad. You're so sad that I think you're dying. You won't move. You lay in my lap, and I hold your arms. I try to pick you up, but I can't quite do it. You're limp and heavy. Your head falls back and exposes your neck every time I stop holding it up. Your eyes are open, but you won't respond.

This is really scaring me. You always know what to do. You're the grown up. You can't be broken. You're the one who always fixes me, not the other way around. I don't know how to take care of you.

"Yumichika," I say, and I'm sniffling, because I can't stand to see this. I don't want to see this. "Yumichika, get up," I beg, but you don't move. I'm so scared. Yumichika, get up, please, you have to get up.

I hug you and sniffle. I beg and beg, but you don't move. "Get up, Yumichika," I whine, shaking you once. I rub my head against your chest and sniffle more. You move slowly then, a hand lifting weakly to drop onto my back and stay there. You make a small noise and close your eyes. You're hurting, but I don't see any cuts. That man hurt your feelings and I can't make that better. He made you sad, so sad that you can't function. He kissed someone else. That's okay, I have to show you that it's okay. As long as you can still move, you'll be okay.

"Yumichika, you are so pretty," I say brightly, smiling and sniffing the last of my tears away. You look into my eyes, half-lidded and dull, but I see a spark. "I know you'll get another date really soon," I assure you, "They'll be really handsome too."

I figured out that you only like men, at least you seem too, because you never give women that same little sly smile that you give men. You never kiss women. You talk to them, sure, but it's not the way you talk to men. All of your sweethearts have been men, and I think that's okay, but I feel like it's not the best thing to do, because I don't know if there are any good men out here.

I tell you I'm sure that you'll find a good man, and you give me the smallest smile and one little laugh. You get up and start walking really slow. I hold your hand, and you actually squeeze me back, just one time.

Don't get heartbroke over bad men like that. They don't deserve for you to get like that because of them. Just stay with me. I will never hurt you.

You don't talk much, but I don't like the quiet. I tell you every story I know and I wonder if you think I'm funny, because sometimes you don't laugh at all, but I can still tell you liked it. You're so quiet, and you don't smile. I wonder if you're an angel again who lost their wings somehow. How could someone so pretty be so sad and gloomy?

I want to explore. We're in North Rukongai, but I want to see the west, east, and south too. Apparently, there's eighty districts for each of these partitions. I have to see more of them, I want to know what the people are like there. Surely there's someone nice out here for you.

We have traveled together for a really long time, it seems, and I don't know what I'd do by myself. I don't know if I'd like to wander around on my own. I'd probably just stay where I lost you and live by stealing again. I don't want to be like that, but I depend on you. You decide what our lives will be from one day to the next. I like it that way, you know best.

I'm getting older now. I can tell, because I've gotten a little taller, and my birthday has passed. I don't want you to come with me when I have to take a piss in the woods at night, even if it's spooky. I don't want you to watch me change when I need to dry my clothes. I don't want us to bathe together. I'm embarrassed, and I want privacy.

I don't want you to think of me as your boy. I want you to see that I'm a man, or nearly there. I might have a long way to go, but I don't want you to think you have to watch me while I'm in the river to make sure I haven't drowned. I don't want you to watch me get dressed. I don't want you to think that I'm so young that it's still okay for me to see you getting dressed.

I'm going to be a man soon. I promise. I want you to be proud. I want you to think I'm tough. I take up chewing on wheat. I whack stuff with my bokken as we walk by. When I get too cocky, you put me in my place and tell me that talking to you that way is inappropriate and unacceptable. I don't dare sass you, I don't dare be disrespectful. I love you, and I'll never talk to you the way those guys do, but… who else can show me how to become a man? I don't want to be like them, but who can I look to for guidance? You're not my dad, you never will be, and I don't know how to act to become older.

Maybe I'm trying too hard. I just need to keep training and before I know it, I'll be big and strong. I don't need anyone but you, and once I'm a man, you won't need anyone but me either. I'll be your man.

You don't get another sweetheart for a long time, but I see you talking to men a lot. You smell sour after you go off on your own and come back in the morning. I don't know what it is, and you tell me it's alcohol, and I believe you. I smell sweat too. I wonder if you've been fighting.

One day, you come home, and I can tell right away that something has happened. You didn't lose a fight, because I see no wounds, but you are in pain. I can see that you're in pain, even though you don't cry or make a sound.

A man hurt you. I can tell. I know it right away and my neck is burning and prickling with dread and rage. I've accepted that you don't like girls the way most boys do. You want a man, you want to love a man, and I think that's okay, but the men out here are rough and they don't appreciate you.

They're usually nice to you, maybe a bit sleazy when I'm there, but I'm sure they become mean when you're by yourself with them, because you come back sad. I can tell something really bad happened this time. Someone hurt you. You're in so much pain. You're walking so slowly and we have to stop after about an hour because you can't go on. You say you're just tired and hungry, weak from dehydration, but I can see you limp. A man hurt you. I don't know how, I don't know where, but I know that a man did this to you. I must have vengeance for your pain.

The fury that bubbles within me is unlike anything I've ever felt, and when I finally see it happen, when I see and hear them jeer at you and call you names that I don't quite understand, I can't hold it in. They pull your hair. I've never seen someone treat you that way, and what really gets me is that you let them do it. You send me away when I get my butt handed to me, and I'm so ashamed of myself.

I sit in our room and wait all night. You take so long to fight them all, and I'm afraid they will kill you, that you won't come home. I'm tearing myself apart wondering why I hadn't been strong enough to help you. What if you die because I wasn't there for you, because I'd been a weak little kid? I'm trying so hard to grow up, but it's not happening fast enough. When you finally come back, I'm bawling like I never have before. I'm so angry and afraid for you, I'm furious that I couldn't help, that you'd had to offer yourself for my sake, that you'd sent me away.

You're perfectly fine, you look just fine, but I know you're not. I'm checking your body, I'm checking your face and your arms, but I don't see any cuts. You didn't fight them, then… but then how had you come back alive? I don't understand, and I know that you're hurt, but I can't figure out where, and it's driving me mad. I want to make you feel better, but I don't know how. I scream and cry into your lap, because it isn't fair. They hurt you, I know they hurt you, and it's not fair. Why would anyone want to hurt you? You didn't do anything to them but grace their eyes with your beauty, and they'd hurt you. I'm so angry at the world and those men and myself for not being strong enough to keep their hands off you.

I know now that you didn't like when they touched you; you were drained. This is why you're tired and sore. It happens in private, where I can't see, but I know that they don't ever touch you gently. When they touch you, they hurt you, and you don't like it. You never had, and you never would. That smile wasn't real. That smile that I had so envied them for being bestowed with, it wasn't real. That smile that I'd wanted you to use on me, it wasn't real. That smile was a fishing hook, a lure, just to make them want you, and why wouldn't they? You didn't do it because you liked them better. It wasn't because you actually liked them. You hated being touched, and once I figure that out, I never hug you again. You might have to do it with them, but you don't have to with me now. I love you, and I won't make you.

It happens again, and then another time, and I'm so upset. I'm so worried for you, because I know that you're being broken down a little at a time, but I don't know how to heal this wound that I can't see. How long has this happened? How long have they been doing this to you? How long have you done this before you met me? I'm so worried, I'm so mad that someone could hurt someone so beautiful. I love you, don't they love you too? They seem to when you first talk to them, but you come back looking fine, yet acting completely different. You're so tired, you're always so tired and sore. You say you're sore and that you can't play with me. You walk like a sick person, like you'll break apart at any moment, and I hold onto your arm. I won't let you fall.

I'm so hungry, but I promise myself that I won't let you near those men. Whatever you do with them is killing you, even if we need money. I'll hurt them if they come near. I'll hurt them so bad. I won't let them do it again. I can't keep you away from those men if you don't want to be kept away, but I won't let them take you and hurt you again. They're not scared of me, but I'm not scared of them either. I'll keep them away until you're better.

I can't bear the fact that I wasn't strong enough that time to fight at your side, to protect us both just like you were doing, but I will get stronger.

You talk more now, like you can feel my seriousness and want to bring me back to my lax ignorance. I can never go back all the way. I don't want to let my guard down and then find you dead. I'm a growing boy, but that doesn't mean you should be hurt every time you want to feed me.

I hold your arm, and you still walk in front, and we go slowly. You're sick. You're breathing through your mouth and your skin is yellowish. You need water. I have to get a job. I need to help feed us.

I do everything that I can, I search for money in the dirt, I pick through trash, I sweep floors, I chase away bad dogs from sheep, I watch babies for drunk fathers, and I get a few coins. You seem happy about it, but you only smile a little bit. I know from how your eyes look that this money isn't enough. I need more money. When I grow strong, I will be a bounty hunter and we can eat without worrying about money.

I find a shinigami badge in the dust one day, and I tell you about it with my black eye and sore teeth. "You really found a lieutenant's badge?"

"Yeah, but it got tooken away," I say, sniffing. My nose was bleeding again. They beat me up for it. I was gonna' sell it, but the shinigami came back for it. I hate them. I've met some okay ones, but they don't seem to really care about us.

"Where was it taken?" you ask pointedly, like you always do when you want me to reconsider my words, and I think for a minute. 'Taken', that sounds better in my ears.

"Taaaa'… Ta' the… Hm, I don't know, actually," I muse. "They just took it after they beat me up. I gave him a big bruise though, boy, was he mad!" I laugh, grinning widely.

You smile. You really smile.

I can feel my spirit energy growing as I train, and I train all the time. I will not let you be hurt again. I can't stop you from roaming at night, but I won't let that happen because of me again.

I will become stronger. I promise.

I wake in a cold sweat, and I can feel tears on my face. Suddenly, I'm crying hard, shocked, and holding my tummy. I roll to the side and crawl away as fast as I can, just before I throw up in the grass. I hurt, and I'm sniffling and smacking my lips. I spit a few times and let out a weak sob. I miss my mom.

You died. You died and you were bleeding. I couldn't see from where, but your clothes were red and your head rolled towards me. Your eyes were open. They hurt you. They touched your body while you were still warm, but you were already dead.

I can't stop crying, and I miss my mom.

You're lying awake and looking at me in the darkness. I take a few leaves and wipe out the inside of my mouth, spitting a few more times, weeping. I hurt all over. My stomach hurts. I have to get stronger, I have to. I promise I will. I won't let that happen.

I'm afraid that I'll fail. I'm not growing up fast enough.

I want to be held. I'm too old for it now, but I want to be held. You won't hold me. I know that you won't, so I don't try, but I still want you to anyways. I miss my mom, but it's you that I want now. I want you.

I shuffle over to you where the grass is still warm and flat where I'd been laying. I take a deep breath and look at the sky. You give a sleepy sigh and I tell you about the dream.

You put your hand on my chest, snaking it out to me and resting it there. It moves slightly with each of my heartbeats. "Now you," you whisper ever so softly, eyes glowing in the moonlight.

I reach out and move my hand over your yukata, and after a moment I put it inside onto your bare skin. You're warm. I want to snuggle you, but I don't. I won't hug you anymore, because I know you don't like when those men touch you. What if my embrace reminds you of them and you hate it? I won't do that. I will never do that.

I'm afraid, I'm so afraid. If you die, I'll be all alone. That was the scariest part of my nightmare, was waking up and thinking I was alone. I'm not alone, though. I feel your heart beat under my palm, and you're smiling wider now, looking into my eyes.

You never say 'I'll always be here', or 'It's okay'. You never have, because that's not true. But you're here now, and that's what you're trying to tell me.

I scootch closer into your personal space until our bodies touch just slightly. I'm so tired, and my heart is beating fast from that nightmare still, but you're here. You're alive. I can feel it against my hand. Each heartbeat between us is telling me, 'live, live, live.' I feel it, and you feel it. I will live for you, and you for me. Deal? Are your eyes telling me that right now?

Your eyes drift closed in sleep and your hand slips down my chest a little. You whisper good night and sweet dreams.

I'm sniffling a little bit, but I smile.