Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach, or any of the Bleach characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo: the genius behind the captivating manga that started it all. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.

Wishing

Prompt: Grace for the day...

A/N: Written for afteriwake on LJ.

It was nice, getting away from Matsumoto's constant harassment. The woman had no idea when to stop screwing around inside the shops that lined the streets, and her captain had long-since grown tired of waiting for her. Without even a word, Toshiro had abandoned the shopping mall, deciding that a nice walk by the river would do his shot nerves some good. At least, if he was going to kill his lieutenant, it would be best to do so without getting himself caught up in a lawsuit.

Crisp, clean air filled his lungs, bringing a smile to his youthful face. This place, the river with all of its sweet serenity, reminded him of his home in the Rukongai. In the summers, he and Momo would spend their days romping about in his grandmother's garden, pulling up weeds for kindling and fresh vegetables for gourmet dinners. Old as she was, his grandmother was by far the greatest in terms of cooking. Far better than Momo could ever do, as she always seemed to destroy the stew's flavors as it boiled. Even he, being several years younger than his childhood friend, could outdo her horrid cooking in less than an hour.

He grimaced suddenly, passing by several memorial stones that had been planted alongside the lush green grass. Toshiro had never liked gravestones. They always seemed to bring back blurred memories that distracted him from more pressing tasks. Perhaps, if those faded memories weren't of his parents, whose faces he barely remembered, then he wouldn't have minded so much. He'd always wanted to know the people his grandmother had told him about. Sometimes, he would dream of meeting them, even if only in the World of the Living. Maybe, by some freak chance, they would recognize him.

A rustling in the brush caught his attention, causing the young captain to assume that Matsumoto was hiding there. He crept forward, being careful not to step on any twigs, and jumped into the bush, screaming at the woman about trying to scare him. Instead of landing on top of his idiot lieutenant, Toshiro found himself face-to-face with a girl who couldn't have been any older than thirteen. He stared into her eyes, noting the tears that had started to form. Before he could so much as apologize, the girl had flipped him over, pinning his arms to the ground.

"Who are you?" she demanded, pressing her shoe against the back of his head. "Why were you spying on me?"

Toshiro grimaced, giving her a dirty look. "I wasn't!" he spat, trying to clear his mouth of dirt. "I thought you were someone else!"

His answer seemed to have satisfied her, as she rose, allowing him to climb to his feet. The young captain sputtered and wiped the grass off of his shirt, staring angrily at a heavy grass stain on his chest. He shook his head, returning his attention to the girl.

"You're Karin Kurosaki," he said, turning to stare at the memorial stone before them. "Your brother's mentioned you."

She nodded, her eyes darting back to the memorial. Her hand ran across the stone's smooth surface, fingers tracing the characters that were engraved upon it. "This is my mother's," she said, staring at it with quiet eyes. "She died when we were just kids."

Toshiro nodded, turning his back on the stone. Frankly, he was a little jealous. This girl had known her mother, while he'd been forced to live a life with vague memories. He remembered the cold winter nights spent with his grandmother as a toddler, sitting on her lap and crying into the blanket she'd wrap him in. He would cry, not out of fear of the dark, as she had believed, but because he would wish, with all his little heart, that he had known his mother.

"Nobody knows," Karin said, "but I come here a lot. Sometimes, I'll show up late at school because I get caught up here. Usually, I pray, and wish, that she's been accepted with good grace in the next life."

Toshiro smiled, blue eyes caught up in the river's shimmering rapids. In that instance, at least, the two of them were alike.

I improvised with Toshiro's parents. I wonder if Kubo will reveal anything about them...