Curtain Call

By: SneakAttack29

Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach. All rights go to their respective peoples.

Quick Author's Note: This is the shortest chapter to date, and I'm sorry it is so short. This and the last chapter could have probably been a singular one, but combining them just seemed like too much. I'm not going to ramble much here, so without further ado, I give you chapter 10!

Enjoy!

Chapter 10: Gravest Mistakes

"Even your gravest mistakes shouldn't stop you from moving forward."

-Edward Elric, Fullmetal Alchemist

"Oba-chan, why is your room so plain?"

From where I'm over by my closet packing clothes away into a small bag, I peer over at my godson in a little bit of shock. The dark-haired boy is standing in the middle of what amounts to a small one-room apartment, looking around at the emptiness with curiosity. I blink a little before I return to setting the hakama in my hands atop the other stacks of folded fabric. "Why do you ask?" Purple eyes don't look at me as he shrugs in that offhand way children sometimes do.

"It's just…empty. Mama says that when you decorate, it means those things are special and you want to see them all the time." I note an edge of depression in his voice, and a frown tugs at my lips. I see where this is going. Guilt washes over me.

Turning, I motion for him to come over by me, so I can speak and continue to pack for this impromptu "sleepover", to use Eiji's words. "I see. You know I have an office here, right?" He nods. "I keep most of my important things in there. I'm not in my room very often unless I'm sleeping. I won't see anything in here if I'm sleeping, now will I? But when I'm working, all I have to do is look up, and there are things to remind me of who and what I love and why I do what I do, why I am a Shinigami." He pauses, kneeling next to me as he chews over my words. For being only five, Eiji is smart. Scarily so, and he understands far more than someone his age should. An old soul, Haruka calls him. It's appropriate.

"But if you keep them in here," he says slowly, "then they're the first thing you see when you wake up! The first thing I see when I wake up is the picture of Chichi-ue." A pang echoes through my chest at the mention. Haruka ensured early on that Eiji knows who his father is. The boy does not know that he is alive, though the thought that Tatsuyoru is dead remains hazy and something skimmed over. The woman has enough sense to know that children, even those as smart as my godson, can talk when they shouldn't, and the boy knowing that his father is alive isn't a good idea. However, none of us could bear to lie to him outright. We are all aware that the ambiguous answers bother him, but it's an unspoken rule to leave it lay at this point. Though I'm sure that given a few years, Eiji's patience to leave it be will run out, and the questions will begin in earnest. Until that time, all he has as a reminder of who his absent parent is remains an old photograph from the man's academy years. The formality with which he refers to the former Fifth Seat is either out of distance or respect, and no one has been able to figure out which.

I smile, and I'm afraid it emerges sad despite my best attempts. "I see your point. I confess that I never thought of it that way. Would you like to see my office before I take you to your Oji-san's apartment? This isn't the only room of mine you've never seen, now that I think about it."

"Can I?" he asks with a blossoming grin that I know means he is more than amenable to the idea. I nod lightly, and he gives a cheer both in response to my acquiescence and to the motion I make to give him permission to look around the room some more. Eiji is a curious being, and there's nothing here that could hurt him.

However, what I did not remember is that there are things hidden here that can hurt me. Things I apparently did not hide as well as I first believed.

A tap on my shoulder as I am fastening the last of my spare uniforms and casual wear drags me out of my mental checklists to see Eiji standing behind me. Something is held in his hands, something I cannot make out. "This is pretty, Oba-chan. You should wear it!" His smile is innocent as he drops the object into my confounded hand. However, the glint of metal and chain that I see causes me to freeze.

No.

I'd forgotten about this, stuffed it away in a corner since I couldn't bring myself to get rid of it for stupid reasons of which I've long since lost recollection but still feel compelled to obey.

I know this necklace.

I remember it.

And I wish I didn't.

The wind is soft as it whispers through the pines of the Seventy-Third district. There's a chill upon it, hints of a cold winter in an even colder world that I do not look forward to. However, for the moment, I'm glad for the dusk frigidity that bites through my unseasonably thin kimono. Ten years ago, when I first stumbled across this hut and this man who took me in, the cold was something I knew to fear. Something I knew to run from because at the end of the day, it meant freezing to a second death if one did not find adequate shelter. Doing such is something extraordinarily difficult to accomplish when one is a lone child in a far-out, shambled district that cares not for anything beyond self-interest. Especially so when one is a child cursed with the need for the ever-so-scarce commodity that is food.

With a final huff and swipe of my brow to clear it of chilling sweat, I finish packing disturbed soil atop the hole beneath a tree I had been filling in from where I had dug it out earlier in the day. It nears sunset now, so my task took me the whole span of daylight hours. My stomach growls to second the realization. I am not allowed to eat until my given chore is completed, which it thankfully is as of the last armful of dirt.

"That didn't take you near as long as it did last time," a voice calls out from behind me as I stand straight again. Within milliseconds am I whirling stiffly to face the approaching figure. In this instance, the person is blurry as are the rest of my surroundings. A hazy dream, hazy memory. "You're getting quicker. Good."

My head is bowed as has been beaten into me quite soundly. But this crushing and enduring gratitude, this deference, is something I'm quite happy and more than willing to show. Praise is a rare thing from this man, something I yearn for more than my next breath. "Thank you, Nii-sama." Where my long hair, the length something determined for me by my brother years ago, hides my face with my head dipped, I secret my eyes shut tight. He doesn't like me not being impeccably aware of my surroundings, but I deign a moment to allow myself to beg the fates for this to go smoothly, for once. I beg for the chance to finally prove that I am not a burden to Nii-sama after all these years of abject failure.

"Hm? What's this, now?"

Trepid, my eyes quickly snap open, hazel grey locking on something that makes my throat sink to my stomach. Something gleams on the sparse grass, something that quickly disappears within the grasp of my brother's palm when he bends down to scoop it up. I recognize it quickly as a trinket, nothing special, that must have…must have escaped the confines of what I was instructed to bury. Nothing was to be spared, it was all to be encased by the earth. No trace was supposed to be left.

No.

Not again.

"Yoshiko," he chides once the small tinkling sounds that indicate his fiddling with the necklace have ceased. "Look at me." I allow myself a final wince before I clear my expression and comply. Well, try to clear my expression. I can feel my eyes tugging wide, scared, enticingly apologetic and overwhelmingly regretful all in one. My brother's gaze is cold, sharp, and puts the cutting breeze and memories of harsh winters to shame. Without fail, this look is always intense, bitter, bleak, biting, far too much.

He sighs, shakes his head, and tuts at me. "Why do you always have to disappoint me, child? It was a simple task."

"I'm sor—"

"I didn't say you could speak," he growls, which makes my jaw snap closed with a click. I barely restrain a whimper. I barely keep eye contact. His hand fists further around the metal in his hand, so much so that it causes it to grind against itself with a cringeworthy scratching, and he is angry now. "You disobeyed me. I clothe you, feed you. I took you in off the streets and ensure your survival, and this is how you repay me every time! Ungratefulness—I taught you better." He appears to relax some once the urge to scream seems to dissipate and his volume lowers. Another sigh, and he uncurls his fist to study the trinket settled neatly in his palm. A fuzzy, wry smile, a shake of his head, and he allows the pendant to dangle. Kindness, I think it is, causes him to ignore the tears leaking down my face.

"A souvenir of your own, is it?" he asks. "Is that why you left this out? Did you think that you could sneak this by, something to remind you of fond memories? You may speak now, and do not lie to me, Yoshiko-chan." A strange flutter of…something strikes me at the sound of my name. I can't understand why. Distaste? But it is my name. I am not supposed to dislike my name. This name my brother so graciously gave me when he did not need to dignify my existence with one—I am meant only to love it, be grateful for it, be pleased of my luck to have it.

There is another flutter, one I am more familiar with that fills me with an even stranger context. Fear. Fear of my brother, but fear that is not of the unknown. This is fear for my life. And I do not know why. He saved me, after all.

He will not accept the truth of it, that it was an accident. And he is far more likely to punish what he does not want to hear. "Y-yes. I w-wanted the rem-minder, Nii-sama. I wished t-to b-be like N-Nii-sama."

A slow, lazy smile spreads across an otherwise stoic face. I feel like cheering. Yes! I said the right thing! I said the right thing!

"Of course, you did. Hmm." Suddenly, the necklace is tossed at me. I fumble but catch it. "You may keep it."

I am quick to clutch the chain that I never wanted to my chest and bow deeply. "T-thank you, Nii-sama! I do n-not deserve y-your k-kindness!"

"I give it still. However," he chides, and I hear the frown in his voice, "as you did not complete your task competently, you are not to eat. Those are the rules. And I expect quite the haul tomorrow, understand? Something from…oh, the Seventieth district would be acceptable." So, he means the Sixty-Eighth, then. I wince into my bow. The distance will be near impossible to cross in time. But I will do it. I will not fail again.

"Yes, Nii-sama."

"Now, let's get your new treasure around that neck of yours, and then it is to bed with you."

I turn obediently to let my brother fasten this trinket of memory around my neck, facing the lump of disturbed soil that it would reside in had I not made a mistake. The weight of the pendant, a glazed purple hyacinth that is simple yet still expensive for this far out in Rukongai, settles against my chest. It is too long for me, but I will grow into it.

One more glance at the pile of dirt is allowed before I turn to the ramshackle hut in the distance, the packed soil one of a line consisting of around twenty more mounds of disturbed earth. A thought occurs to me then. I do not recognize it until later, much later. A small, strange whistling accompanies it that I ignore. I will think this more definitively as the years go on, as will I grow to hate my name while the one day grows nearer and nearer.

Monster, I think unknowingly. Kozaki Kiyoshi is a monster. My brother is a monster.

I grip the pendant tight in my hand.

I gulp and tremor. A huff of air leaves my lips, and I try to school my features before I look at Eiji again. The memory plays out behind my eyes, the fear, the cold, the bite of metal into my palm, the hunger that was not sated that night nor the next. Years ago, I think. So many years ago. My fingers not encircling the damned hyacinth pendant dig into the floorboards beneath me to the point of pain, reminding me that I am in my barracks in Squad 10 and not the forested clearing in Rukongai amidst piles of dirt and beneath trees that speak of too many secrets.

"Oba-chan?"

The title bestowed upon me by this little boy is the final key to grounding me to the present reality, and I snap back into my body as if tugged by a rubber band. The feeling is refreshing, if not draining at the same time. The smile I give him is weak as I hide the necklace away behind my fingers.

"This…," I start, taking a breath and pausing as I try to figure out how to phrase what I want to say. "This is a memory, Eiji. But it's one I haven't been able to bring myself to face yet."

He frowns, staring at my hands contemplatively. "So…it's not a good memory? Why do you keep it?" I reach over to a nearby cabinet to place the necklace within its depths, making a mental note to remember it is there so as to later tuck it away in its designated spot out of mind. Once that is done, my previously occupied right hand reaches out to ruffle his hair affectionately.

I advise, "Even bad memories have lessons we can learn from. And sometimes, they're reminders that keep us from making the same mistakes over again. Or we sometimes cling too tightly to the past and have trouble letting go. It depends on the memory, and it depends on the person."

"Why do you remember it, then?"

My hand moves to comb through his bangs, silent a moment. Eyes roving across his curious face, his little head tilted cutely. However, his stare is serious. Understanding. I say it a lot, but this boy is wise far beyond his years.

"It reminds me of my regrets. And my mistakes." His nose wrinkles.

"That doesn't sound like fun."

I chuckle. "It's not, but sometimes it's necessary." The nose wrinkles even further.

"…If that's what it means to be an adult, I don't wanna." My chuckle turns into a roaring laugh as I shoulder my bag, stand, and scoop Eiji into my arms. In light of our conversation, I'm willing to forego my rule that he walks on his own when inside a building for the sake of the comfort and grounding his weight brings me.

Tapping his nose, I say, "Oh, Spider Monkey. That day won't come for a long time. You have nothing to worry about."

"Are we going to go see your office now?"

"Of course!" The fake cheer slowly becomes less forced and more real as we meander down the halls. A few Shinigami we pass give Eiji a grin and a wave, by now used to seeing the boy in the Division with either myself, Hitsugaya, Matsumoto, or, on occasion, Haruka. He never fails to bring a bit of exuberant cheer, and I know I'm not the only one to appreciate that.

We don't take too long to get to my office, and I slide the door open with perhaps a little more showmanship than is necessary. "Ta-da!" My godson giggles as I let him down to explore, figuring I can grab some paperwork to do while I watch the boy at Hitsugaya's.

That still sounds weird…

Opening cupboards and sifting through bookshelves with joy written all over his face, he climbs onto my desk chair after a few minutes of having to touch everything he can to watch me rustle through paperwork and take in the items splayed about. "The fan on the bookshelf is pretty!" I smile.

"Your Mama got that for me a few years ago at a festival. You weren't there, you were too little." I explain. "Said it matched my eyes."

"What about that painting?"

"Oh, that? I'm not sure. It was here when I got the office. You'd probably have to ask Akiyama-san, I think it was his. This used to be his office before it became mine, actually."

"Why do you have so many books?" He cranes his head to look over his shoulder and back at my bookshelves. True enough, they're almost overflowing with books and some scrolls, and I sheepishly rub the back of my neck at the realization that I probably need to cave and buy another one already.

My laugh is weak and guilty. "Well, don't tell your Oji-san, but sometimes I read when I'm supposed to be working. It's a bad habit." He laughs, a conspiratorial gleam shining in his eyes. He seems to be amused by the idea of keeping a secret, and I'm chagrinned to wonder how long it will be before Hitsugaya is giving me that stern raising of an eyebrow and telling me to mind what I do during work hours. I give it three days.

He nods, opening his mouth as if to speak when his eyes catch sight of the picture frame perched on the corner of the desktop. Instead of words, he gasps, leaning forward as much as he dares to point at it.

"That's me! And Oji-san, and you, and Mama!" My eyes dart to it, taking in the humorous sight of Haruka prying a three-year-old Eiji off of Hitsugaya's hair, me ugly-cackling like a madwoman to the side. "Mama keeps one in the living room!"

I nod. "That she does. Your Oji-san has a copy, too, but I don't know where he keeps it." Eiji just gives a face-splitting grin, jumping down to make another lap around my office. I shake my head fondly, gathering up more paperwork. A moment of silence lapses that is broken only by my shuffling through stacks of paper and the boy's soft footfalls. At least, it is silent until…

"Oba-chan, do you love Oji-san?"

I choke on air.

"E-excuse m-me!?" Coughing, I'm sure the look I shoot my innocent-looking godson is a cross between incredulous and crazy with a dash of slowly-combusting face. "I—wha—I don't… Why on earth would you ask that?"

He does that head tilt thing again. "Because you said earlier that you keep things here so that they can remind you of who you love when you're working. You keep that picture on your desk, and you love me and Mama. Oji-san is in there, too, so don't you love him?"

"I…I, uh…" I stutter, fumble for words because I'm not sure how to phrase this so it doesn't sound bad. Of all the questions to throw at me, it had to be that one? "Well, y-your Oji-san is technically my superior, Eiji. He's my boss."

Eiji blinks. "Why does that matter?" I know I'm blushing a quaint shade of vermillion, floundering hopelessly.

"B-because there…because it's not…because it does!" I squeak. "I have to keep decorum! That…that's entirely unprofessional!" I groan, facepalming. "Please, love, for the love of all that is good, please drop the subject."

I swear I hear him giggle, but I can't prove anything. "Okay."

"Thank you," I sigh, returning to my paperwork with heat still scalding my face. Thankfully, the boy seems just as content to return to his moseying instead of continuing to pry. More silence, a bit awkward on my part this time around, ticks by until I gather the last of my work and motion to take Eiji by the hand on the way out.

I feel like knocking my head into a wall when he speaks a singular question halfway out of the Division, though. "Oba-chan, what's 'unprofessional'?"

This is going to be a long few weeks…

Final Words: That flashback scene took a lot out of me to write, I'm not going to lie. I have PTSD myself and flashbacks can be touchy. However, they're exceedingly important to Yoshiko's development, and it wouldn't feel right of me to try to depict PTSD without staying true to what it actually is. Yoshiko handles it very well and very silently, but flashbacks and panic attacks and triggers can come out of nowhere. And that is important.

Some translations:

Chichi-ue: Father, a rather formal way of saying such.

Nii-sama: Brother, again a rather formal way of saying such.

I'm not going to say too much more because I'm exhausted and have to work in a few hours, so. The next chapter shouldn't take too terribly long (famous last words, I know), and I'm really excited. Things are going to start picking up a little from here on out. Mystery and plot twists abound. Be prepared.

R&R!
~Sneak