Written for the March Challenge on Prompt Bingo, LJ.

Prompt: #9 – "At night, when my daughter is sleeping, I sit next to her bed and cry because I will never be good enough to be her mother."

Someday

In the dark corner of a small cave Kenpachi sat with his back leaning against the rough rock walls, listening absently to the pattering of rain outside. Night had long descended upon the land, and yet he still hadn't the urge to close his eyes and lay himself to rest – or maybe it was because he just couldn't.

Kenpachi wasn't a man who thought much – when it came to fighting, he used his brawn rather than his mind, and that had always been enough to get him through without so much as a shallow cut in the chest. But that night, he found himself drifting off not into slumber, but into his own thoughts. He had neglected his mind since that fateful day when Yachiru was ripped away from him because whenever he allowed himself to drift away, he would inevitably think of her. That sweet oval face would appear in his mind's eye, and though hazy, he could see her clearly. Her eyes looked at him with warmth that he so longed for, and it only pained him to know that he could no longer indulge in those eyes now that she was gone.

Yachiru had left him with an emptiness, a hollow in his chest, that had corrupted him from within. It made him go on a wild rampage, slaughtering anyone who dared step in his path. But, contrary to beliefs, he wasn't cruel – he was uncontrollable.

And when that rampage ended upon a meeting with a certain child, Kenpachi didn't know what to think of his fortune. Either it had turned out for the better or worse, he had not the slightest idea. But still, he went against his own distaste for children and took her under his wing, reminding himself that Yachiru would have wanted that. She had always the desire for little 'Chirus of her own, but no matter how hard they tried, she didn't seem to meet the necessary conditions.

With her in mind, he had named the kid Yachiru to honour and, though it still hurt him deep down, remember her. But as the weeks rolled into months, he had begun to regret his decision in taking the child along with him. The Yachiru he now had with him was no more than a sack of potatoes slung over his shoulder, ceaselessly bawling in his ear like her life depended on it. And he himself was being a rather lousy caretaker, what with him yelling at her all the time to get her to shut up, only to have her crying even louder than before. It was during times like those that he wondered how the late Yachiru could have wanted these little… demons living together with them.

That, and also the fact that Yachiru deserved better. An infant like her needed someone to care for her, to feed her with proper, regular meals. Kenpachi knew nothing of children, much less about caring for them, and so he felt a stab of guilt whenever he observed her eating whatever scrap of food he managed to scavenge from the streets. They were always hungry, always without enough to eat, and yet Kenpachi pushed all the food he found to her. He didn't know why he forfeited his own body, why he was so intent on satisfying her needs more than his own, but whenever she licked her fingers clean and cast him a wide smile that seemingly spoke of gratitude, he felt as though he was the one who had enjoyed the feast.

But still, he felt like he wasn't good enough. He wasn't cut out to be a guardian. He fought for himself, not care for others…

Yachiru was the only exception.

No sooner had he thought that, the infant twisted around in his hold. Despite his mental urges, the whimper that she emitted soon turned into a full-blown wail. Kenpachi clasped a hand over her mouth, muffling her, but she bit down on his palm with her two stumps of teeth. It didn't hurt in the least but, along with her mounting cries, it drove Kenpachi to the edge. He held her up by her armpits, gave her a little shake.

"Shut up, runt!" he hissed, but she cried harder. He squeezed his eyes shut, mind reacting fast, and soon he had her buried in his chest with his lean arms wrapped around her small, curled frame. Maybe she was cold? Hungry? He didn't know. The attempts he tried in hopes of shushing her weren't quite working too.

In remembrance of Yachiru who, once upon a time, had stroked his back in order to quell his flaring anger at some asswipe who had the nerve to lay his grimy hands on her, Kenpachi proceeded to rub the child's back in fast motions. He slowed his movements when he noticed that it wasn't working, and the circular, soothing strokes gradually quietened her.

"All right, runt?" He looked down at her, brushed the hair from her eyes so that he could see how she was doing. She rubbed her nose, sniffing, and peered up at him through bright orbs that brimmed with unshed tears. "The… fuck?" He scoffed, unconsciously running his fingers through her matted hair. "What's gotten into ye?"

Her only reply was to curl up and bury her nose in his chest. He hadn't expected her to understand what he was saying, with her being a mere baby and all, but the way she suddenly burst out into tears, breaking through his disturbing thoughts, was rather unsettling. It seemed like she understood his musings, had the power to delve into his mind.

And Kenpachi – he found that he still hadn't the urge to take his blade and slice her head right off her shoulders. He knew he should have, that she had done way more than to annoy him to the edge of his sanity, but he couldn't find it in himself to do so.

As Kenpachi observed the child drift back into slumber, puzzled over what had just happened, his thoughts returned to Yachiru. His 'Chiru. How she so wanted to have a child but couldn't. He was very much aware of the pain she sustained for her disability, and there was many a time that he cursed the shit gods for it.

Kenpachi didn't quite fancy being a parent, but now, with 'Chiru in mind and the sleeping baby in his arms, he found himself with a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, a smile that spoke of puzzlement and odd satisfaction. Though it was hard to imagine himself a doting father, he knew that he was already one, and though not as good as others, he was certain to improve his ways.

Running his fingers through the child's hair, a gesture that he often did to 'Chiru, Kenpachi tightened his hold around her small body and leaned back. Thoughts of her began clouding his mind's eye, but for the first time since that fateful day, he was comforted rather than tortured by bittersweet memories. He could picture perfectly how she would be smiling down at him, watching him with that infamously protective streak of his now averted towards the child.

He knew he was never going to be as good as Yachiru at parenting… but then again, he was Zaraki Kenpachi. Nobody could take him down… except maybe a bawling brat who had the power to effortlessly freeze him in place with just an innocent little smile.

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