This is my longest chapter so far! I hope you enjoy it.
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any of its characters.
He is sick of all the pity and he is sick of all the fake sympathy. These people have never really known his older brother. They did not understand how heartbreaking it really was for him to wake up every morning and realize that he had his own room now. They did not realize how gut wrenching it was for him to come home everyday to a drunk mother, who did nothing but cry over baby pictures of her lost son.
Perhaps it is his mother's condition that has hit him the hardest. The bubbly woman has always been so dear to him; she has always been eccentric and happy. He has watched as her personality had slowly been sapped out of her over the years, ever since his brother had been admitted to the hospital.
Hitsugaya Rangiku is a broken woman now. Nothing anyone could say, not even her Gin – the love of her life, and the father to her children – could end her misery. She has lost her first born son, one of the proofs of the love between her husband and herself. No one lets her near the kitchen anymore - not since her husband became wary of the fact that her eyes lingered for far too long on the many knives.
She is not stupid. She knows that ending her life will not solve her problems. But the idea of cutting herself off from this pain is so tempting, and although her restrictions infuriate her, she cannot help but be thankful to her husband for preventing her from making that mistake. It helped her to clear her head and start the road to recovery.
The funeral is short and grievous. Many of his relatives could not make it; his family is too spread out across the globe, and those close by were too "successful and busy" to spare two hours to say goodbye to a family member. Many members of the community have come to give their condolences. He wishes they would leave; they had no right to be here when they really knew nothing of Hitsugaya Jyuushiro. Many of his brother's friends from school have come, too. The student council members look rather lost now that their president is no longer around to guide them. The tennis and track teams seem incomplete with their captain missing. In his eyes, none of them look upset or heartbroken enough. But he really doesn't care about their state; his focus is on patting his sobbing mother's back and avoiding the eyes of his unusually somber father, who is missing the large grin that made him, him.
It is during this task that he spots her.
She is standing not too far away with her family, holding her sister's hand tightly. He notes that her face bears no hint of tears, although her expression is grim, and he feels rather impressed that she can keep herself composed so well. She had been close to his brother, after all, second only to him.
For the longest time, he had only ever seen her as the girlfriend of his elder brother. She had always been there during visiting hours, making his brother laugh and show expressions that he had never thought possible of Shiro-nii. He met her the day she came for a cast, after breaking her ankle during a soccer game two years ago. He didn't like her. It was childish, but he felt as if she was taking away his brother, his best friend. Besides, he always felt as if Jyuushiro could do better than a loud-mouthed tomboy. It was only much later that he begrudgingly came to realize that she is actually a good person.
The guests seat themselves quietly as the ceremony begins.
"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to grieve the loss of a brilliant soul," the preacher begins, but Toushiro cannot pay attention. The preacher's words sound fake, because he speaks of a boy he has never met.
His mind blanks as he sees the coffin being carried out. His brother's corpse is inside. It is then that the realization hits him.
His brother is dead. Gone. Forever. His. Brother. Is. Dead.
The shock is too overwhelming. He wrenches his hand from his mother's and stands up. Nobody bothers to call after him as he runs away; the family is grieving, and his brother's friends have never gotten along with him. He doesn't care. He has never liked them much either.
He races down the paths of the cemetery, only stopping when he is so far away that he cannot see the burial anymore, and then he releases his frustration on a nearby tree. He punches and punches and punches. Soon, his knuckles rip open and blood pours out, yet he continues to assault the tree, all the while wishing that this was helping him to cope, even just a little bit. All it does is cause a sharp stab of raw pain to shoot up his arm every time his fist connects with the rough bark. It feels good.
"You should stop or that'll get infected," a flat voice from behind him suddenly says.
Surprised, he spins around and finds himself facing his brother's girlfriend.
Ex-girlfriend, he corrects himself. A dead man cannot have a relationship.
"What do you want?" he asks her snappishly. He really is not in the mood for her pity, or even her company. His shoulders remain tense as he waits for her to leave. She doesn't. Instead, she shrugs.
"Don't know," she replies. "Just couldn't stand being around all that fake crying, so I thought I'd see what you were up to."
His shoulders relax as her answer sinks in. So even she could feel the plasticity in the air. For some odd reason, he feels relieved. Perhaps because this proves that she loved his brother enough to tell the difference, or perhaps because it means he is not alone in hating the people gathered back there. Either way, his wish for her to leave vanishes, and instead, he feels grateful that she is the only one who bothered to follow and seek him out.
"I miss him too, you know," she says suddenly, shakily. "It's not only you. But hurting yourself won't solve the problem."
She reaches into her jeans' pocket and pulls out a handkerchief. As she steps forward to tightly wrap it around his open wound and stem the blood flow, he sends her an incredulous look. She'd never seemed the type to carry around something as feminine as an embroidered handkerchief. She sees the look she is receiving and rolls her eyes.
"Yuzu's idea," she informs him. "She thought I should have something to dry my tears, in case I wanted to cry."
"But you're not," he points out. He cannot keep the accusatory tone out. After all, his mother has been crying ever since the death two months ago, so why isn't Shiro-nii's girlfriend also mad with grief? He might have been impressed with her poise earlier, but that does not mean he cannot be suspicious of her ability.
"I just figured he wouldn't want me to." She inspects her handiwork as she tightens the cloth now wrapped around his fist. Once satisfied, she steps back and sends him a pained smile. "He never liked for anyone to be upset, and me crying would mean that I'm not a suitable girlfriend, because then I can't even grant him his most desired wish: For everyone to be happy."
His eyes soften at the explanation, and his heart goes out to this girl who understands his brother so well. This is a girl who loved his brother sincerely, and still does.
He remembers when he first met her, he was afraid for Shiro-nii. Afraid that his brother would fall in love with her too, and be heartbroken when he couldn't be with her. After all, he was sick, and could possibly die, and Toushiro worried that this story could only end in tragedy. But despite the obstacles, the two managed to end up together, even after knowing that one day, he would leave her. As he looks at her now, trying desperately to hold herself together for her lover's sake, even after their separation, he cannot help but decide triumphantly that his brother had one hell of a taste in women. But in a good way.
He looks down at his neatly bandaged hand before slipping under the shade of the tree he had just abused. He plops down and looks up at her. She hesitates for only a moment before following his lead. They sit back-to-back and in silence, both contemplating their own sad thoughts. Again, Karin, not being the patient type, breaks the silence.
"Do you remember last year, when it was Shiro's birthday, and we all wanted to surprise him with a cake?"
"But the hospital didn't allow any food to be given to the patients until it had been checked, to make sure its ingredients didn't interfere with anyone's medications," he remembers, smirking slightly because he knows what happens next.
He knows she is trying to lift both their spirits by remembering the good memories, but he finds her effort does not bother him as much as he knows anyone else's would have. Right now, he feels like she is the only one he could stand to talk about his brother with.
"We knew that," she continues, "but we were such dumbasses that we still got him an ice-cream cake."
"It was his favorite," he points out. She laughs loudly, and he feels his lips quirking up also.
"I know! But by the time we gave it to him, so much of it had melted that it was more like ice-cream cake soup." She smiles gently as she continues. "But he still ate so much, just because he didn't want us to feel bad after we went through all the trouble."
"And we begged him to stop, and told him we would get another cake. One that wouldn't melt."
"But now I'm sure that if we had gotten another one, it wouldn't have tasted anywhere near as good as the one we...drank." And she laughs again. He joins in, though his laugh is more silent and hoarse, because he has not laughed in a long, long time.
They talk a little longer, but soon the funeral is over. Her brother and his father find them and call them over. He stands up and then offers her a hand.
She looks at it for a moment before smirking and pushing it away. She stands up herself, then slaps the dirt off of her pants. He admires that. He admires that she does not allow herself to show weakness, even now, when it is an occasion when so many do so. It gives him strength, too.
As they walk towards their awaiting families, she looks at him.
"See you at school tomorrow?" she asks. And he is shocked by that simple question. It reminds him that although his brother is gone, life still continues normally. It reminds him that it is okay to grieve, but there is no need to be broken forever. More importantly, it reminds him that he has a friend in her; a rare friend who is willing to be his strength and trust him to be her support, too.
He has not had a friend in years. When young, kids thought he was too different. And as he entered junior high and high school, kids began alienating him. No one talked to him unless necessary, and everyone learned to be afraid of him. For what reason, he did not know.
But looking at this tough young woman, he remembers that a long time ago, even before she and his older brother became an official item, she did not fear him; she was willing to extend a hand of friendship.
"Yes," he replies softly, smiling at her gently. "See you tomorrow."
She flashes him a wide grin before running to her family and heading with them towards the gate. As she is exiting, she looks back one last time to flash him a smile and give a small wave.
It is only hours later, when his house is quiet and he is in bed, that he realizes that in the moment she looked back, the sun illuminating her face and her smile shining so sincerely, his heart sped up.
So that was kind of a HitsuKarin-ish moment. I hope you liked it.
I've been updating so frequently, but I have school tomorrow so my updates might come farther apart. No worries, the next couple will be updated quickly; Chapter 4 is already half way done and I've started on Chapter 5.
Any opinions are welcome!