Ichigo was sure something had just happened, that the world was different from what it was a moment ago, but before he had time to dwell on it, the girl had seized up, violently.
She had curled up into a ball in the grass, with her eyes shut tight, breathing heavily. It was obvious she was in great pain, but beyond that he couldn't be sure. But then her dress rode up in a spasm, and Ichigo understood.
It was a thick scar, the angry raised line stark against her pale skin. It stretched up the side of her thigh, disappeared beneath her dress, and then ended at the nape of her neck—an incredibly long scar. That had to have come from a serious wound, and it couldn't have healed properly.
So there was the source of her pain. But how was he to alleviate it? All throughout his military service, he had been trained to destroy, and not to heal. He didn't know what else to do, so he grabbed the beer bottle from where it had fallen and pressed it into one small white hand.
After a moment, she sat back up, letting out a small whimper she didn't think he heard at the action. She fumbled with the stopper for a moment, hands shaking. The stopper finally came free with a small pop and she raised the bottle to her lips. She downed the bottle in one go, and when she was finished, the trembling had subsided somewhat.
She looked up at him, and he just stared at her for a moment. Her hair was rumpled, and there were bits of grass sticking out. There was a sheen of sweat on her unnaturally pale face, and there was blood where she had bitten through her lip in the height of the pain. Her dark eyes were wide, and held a depth of sadness Ichigo didn't think he'd ever be able to understand.
And suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to gather her up and never let go.
Ichigo hadn't ever really been good at denying himself anything—so he did. He wrapped the girl up in his arms and shifted her into his lap. He engulfed her—she was so unbearably small.
"You can let go of me now," she mumbled after a long moment, and she sounded so fragile and broken he hugged her all the tighter. "I'm OK."
"Like hell you are," he growled back. "What happened to you? I've been in the military since I was 15, and I haven't seen a scar like that until now."
She simply shook her head.
He didn't press the matter any further—after all, he'd hadn't ever said anything about his Hollow, and never really wanted to—and they stayed like that for a long time.