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A cool breeze drifted in through the open window. Ichigo sat on the plush armchair with the foot rest raised up and Toushiro cradled sideways in his lap, head nestled against his chest. By now, the little shinigami had relaxed his hold on Ichigo's shirt, instead latching onto one of Ichigo's large hands with both of his small ones.
He held the lean fingers tightly, playfully nibbling on the tips like a fluffy kitten while Ichigo bounced him in his arms and stole little kisses in between nibbles. Ichigo tickled his flat stomach lightly; Toushiro squirmed, biting back giggles.
He'd torn the toilet paper off his ankle soon as they got in the door then stuffed it down the back of Ichigo's shirt. Ichigo had almost dropped him getting it out. Toushiro's smirk had been wiped off his little face by the deep, breath-taking kiss Ichigo had stolen from him.
Ichigo pulled his hand free, moving it out of Toushiro's grasp. Toushiro's little arms reached out, fingers grabbing at empty air like a child grasping for its favorite toy. Ichigo kissed the tip of his pert nose as he reached out and grabbed one of Toushiro's feet. "They're so pretty and perfect, like the rest of you. How could anyone destroy such beauty?"
Toushiro's face clouded over momentarily and he tried to press himself further into Ichigo's protective embrace. His turquoise eyes glazed over and his voice was soft, barely audible. "For beauty. For modesty. For obedience." Ichigo said nothing; he just held him and let him tell his story.
"I was born in a small fishing village along the northern coast. I never knew its name- I was young when the barbarians from the continent invaded. They were defeated, but they didn't leave empty handed."
A slight tremor ran down Toushiro's spine. Ichigo tightened his hold as the boy's petite hand fisted in his shirt once more. "They took you."
Toushiro nodded against him. "They said I was too pretty to leave behind, or kill. I was a gift, a spoil of war, to the Mongolian empress. She'd taken over China, and now had her eyes on Japan. I lived and grew up in her palace. I was her favorite play thing. She couldn't wait until I grew old enough so she could- she could-"
He broke off and shuddered, burying his face in Ichigo's chest. Ichigo rubbed his back, silently listening. Though outwardly calm, inside his heart was breaking. The icy little captain had been through so much pain. Ichigo hurt enough at the loss of his mother, but Toushiro had lost so much more. His friends, his family, his home- all had been cruelly stripped away from him at a tender age.
Toushiro turned so his cheek was pressed over Ichigo's heart; he could feel and hear it beating. The lull of Ichigo's heart and his strong, warm arms comforted the taichou, made him feel safe.
"I don't remember much, except her eyes were cold, and her hands hard. She liked to hurt, and broke the things she touched. Her gardens, though, were big and beautiful. I remember them because I'd wanted so badly to play in them." Vivid, sad cerulean flooded the green blue orbs. Toushiro trembled, small hand jerking in Ichigo's shirt.
Ichigo kissed his forehead gently. He felt the boy's pain. He could easily picture a toddler Toushiro staring out at pretty flowers, lush green grass, and trees filled with birds, bees, and butterflies. Toushiro's small fingers would reach out, aching to go chase the creatures or roll in the sun warmed grass. But he'd never gotten the chance becauseā¦
"What I remember the most though was the pain in my feet. It never went away, even after the two year binding process was over. Those days in the garden were pure torture. The empress' healers insisted it was 'good for my health' and would 'soothe my troubled soul'."
Toushiro sneered, and Ichigo was relieved to see a spark of the fiery taichou's usual self. "I wanted to run, to chase butterflies, but I could barely totter on those twisted stumps!"
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