Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any of its characters.

My brother had always been the one I had always loved most.

We did everything together; we shared our toys, we shared a bedroom, we shared a hair color, we ate watermelon and ice-cream – and sometimes watermelon ice-cream – together on hot days, we had snowball fights on crisp winter days, we ran to school together every day, and we supported each other through everything.

Which is why growing up listening to my brother's wail was always very difficult. He was too young to understand that, sometimes, kids could be mean for no reason; they could throw harsh words, and pick on your weaknesses without understanding the consequences. The white hair did not help, and I had to watch helplessly as mother yelled at him furiously one day for stealing the kitchen scissors and attempting to cut off the white locks.

I resented those kids, wanted to make them pay, but, so easily catching sickness when I was young, had no way to get them back, to fully protect my chibi self in the way a big brother should, and so I resented myself, too.

It was even worse knowing that all I could do was make promises of a better future with no way to actually know if my predictions would come true. He always looked so hopeful though, that I loved seeing his face light up, and his little fists wipe away any evidence of tears.

I could never escape the guilt that maybe his strange aloofness once he grew up was my fault. The promises I had made never came true. He didn't understand that kids picked on those they liked, because they were new to, and unsure of, their feelings, and he became so detached that, soon, others left him alone altogether. He was friendless.

I did my best to fill the void. I made sure we still spent plenty of time together, walked to school together every morning, attempted to convince him to join a school club, gave up when he refused point blank, and looked out for him to the best of my abilities.

I knew my little brother adored me, worshiped me even. He came to me with everything, all his problems. Even if I had wanted to tell our parents of the horrible truths of what his life was becoming, I couldn't, not when knowing that I had his full and complete trust.

Maybe that was the problem. Maybe that was why, as he grew up, he shied away from people, showing no interest in friendship, or love, as so many of the boys his age were beginning to do. If anyone came too close, they were shunned away with a glare. He was not very inviting, even to the people who whole-heartedly wanted an invitation.

Once, in junior high, there was a girl who liked him. She thought his indifference was cool, and her crush was very obvious; when he passed by in the halls, I would see the dreamy look in her eyes; when he would look her way, I would notice that she would giggle. I convinced her to confess, thinking it would be a good thing for my brother.

Despite her shyness, she agreed. The day before Valentine's Day, she badgered me with questions about him; his favorite sweet, his favorite flavor of chocolate, whether he liked extravagant or simple wrapping. I answered all her answers carefully, knowing she was the best chance to make my brother happy.

Then next day, when chibi me and I arrived at school, there was a small package of dark chocolate awaiting him in his shoe locker, wrapped in a curled pink ribbon. His admirer was watching timidly from across the hall, hiding behind some lockers and peering around them. It was cute.

But chibi me, who had grown up to taunts of kids making fun of his love for sweets after seeing him devour a plate of amanatto when little and declaring it old man food to match his old man hair, only saw it as a prank.

The young junior high schooler watched with tears in her eyes as he cruelly ripped apart the wrapping, and dumped the entire present into the nearest trash bin. She ran away crying, her friends throwing my brother dirty looks before following. After that, girls quickly learned that liking Hitugaya Toushiro was a waste of time, and he was avoided.

High school was the same story. He was thought to be a pariah, and quickly alienated. I watched helplessly as my little brother shrugged it off, hiding his hurt on the inside. He didn't understand what he had done to deserve this treatment, and really, he hadn't done anything.

Because, sometimes, things just happen, whether we want them to or not, and if they don't kill us, they make us stronger. And I told myself this, as well as reminded him over and over again, when, during my seventeenth year, I coughed up my own blood at the dinner table, when I was rushed to the hospital in an emergency ambulance as fluid filled my lungs, when I was told that I had been diagnosed with tuberculosis.

It was so...unreal, somehow. Sitting in that office chair, learning that I might...die someday. Someday soon. I didn't really believe it. It had to be a joke, right? Any minute now, the doctor was going to drop that serious expression, wink at us, and cry Gotcha!...right?

My mother began wailing, my father screaming at the doctor, my brother dashing out of the room with a look of horror on his face. I wanted so badly to follow him. To run away from this.

Why me? That was the only thing that went through my head. The hell with fate. I bet this was only happening because some God, deity, Kami – whoever controlled fate and the universe and who was attacked with deadly diseases – thought it would be funny. Ha ha, let's all laugh at the poor, innocent teenager, who's life had now become a hell. I wonder how he'll deal with it – how exciting!

Why was I chosen to go through this? Had I not lived a good enough life? I had done my best to help my brother, to keep him happy, to please my father, to make my mother proud. I had good grades, I played on sports teams for my school, I made my high school a better place as the student council president. Was it really not enough?

I could do better, I decided. If that was the reason, I could study harder, get better grades, join more teams, win more matches, do even more good, volunteer, cook, relieve my mother of her burdens, help father more at his company, get chibi me some friends, maybe a girlfriend. If I did all that, would my disease go away? It had to; I was offering so much...right?

And I am ashamed to admit, that in that moment, I was completely and utterly selfish, my family's grief not registering in my mind as I argued with fate. And gave up against fate.

If I'm going to die...why bother with anything? Why bother doing better at school, helping mother, helping chibi me? I had already done so much, and it had not been good enough. Why bother with more? Soon enough, I would be rotting in the ground, and no one would be bothered to remember me. I was just one of the hundreds of kids in my school, one of the billions on the planet.

But then my little brother returned. The room quieted down as the doctor's office door clicked open, and we all were dead silent as he walked in, his expression so blank it was almost frightening. Though not as frightening as a deadly illness. He ignored everyone, spared them no glances, and saw only me. I sat, perfectly still, as he settled next to me on the sofa, and wrapped his arms around me.

"We'll get through this," he whispered.

And that's when it settled in. The final stage of my grief. Acceptance.

I wasn't the only one going through this, and would suffer along; my mother and father would lose a son; my brother, an older, role model sibling; my team members and student council members, a friend; and my teachers, a student. And I would lose them. No...we wouldn't.

It was like he had said. We would get through this. Together.

And during my eighteenth year, I added another person to our together.

It had only been a year, but my illness was getting worse.

"I'm sorry," I overheard the doctor say to my parents., "but he's progressively worsening. The antibiotics didn't help, but staying in the hospital isn't either."

"Can't you do something?" I heard mother snap. "You're the doctor."

"I'm sorry, but I can't perform miracles."

Not wanting to get caught, I had hurried away, and with those troubling thoughts in my mind, had walked into the wrong room – the one next to mine. Inside, I found her.

As I found out later, her age was equivalent to that of my own brother's, but those sixteen years had been kind to her. She was indefinitely the most beautiful creature I had ever had the luck to lay eyes on.

She definitely had spunk. That first day we met her, we were strangers, and yet she had still sent me a scowl, though after an awkward standoff.

"Who the hell are you?"

And so our friendship began.

Kurosaki Karin. My new friend, the girl who was passionate about soccer, could laugh easily, cared nothing for manners and polite protocols, and had a small hand that fit so daintily in my own as we exchanged our names and a handshake.

She was enchanting, exhilarating. So different from those I had met, so easy to speak to, too special to allow out of my life forever after only that one day. In her presence, I even forgot that right next door was my hospital bed, possibly my death bed.

I pitifully asked her when I would see her again. I needed to see her again. And when she agreed to meet with me once more, I couldn't help the smile that widened across my face. Or the one that broke out when she made me laugh by calling me a creeper, and then a textbook, the next time we met – the day she got her cast.

The talk inevitably changed to one on my disease; I had known it was coming, could tell, from her personality, that she was the curious type. I could never express the gratitude I felt when she didn't apologize for my sickness, didn't show me pity, or try to show me understanding. She knew that that was not what I needed, or wanted.

That was what convinced me that she was truly spectacular, and I wished there was some way to know her outside of this hospital, as just a regular person.

So imagine my surprise when chibi me announced, once he had shown up during visiting hours, that she was a student at our school. How could I have missed this exquisite girl, albeit two years my junior, in the hallway?

Despite my disappointment in myself, I saw an opportunity in her; a friend, finally, for my younger, tortured brother.

But, from day one, I was well aware that chibi me and Karin held no friendliness towards one another. I played ignorant to their glares, exchanged across my hospital bed, and their arguments, staged when they believed I was too far to overhear. I had hoped that it would pass, but when it became apparent it would not, I took matters into my own hand.

"Ive always worried for my brother," I told her one day, after finding an excuse to send chibi me out of the room, to fetch me some water to wash down my snack of ohagi; regretfully, my idea that they would bond on their way to the cafeteria to buy the dessert had not worked.

"You see, he does not trust people easily, meaning he does not make friends easily, because...his classmates had the tendency to bully him when younger, and I've always worried. But now that he has met you, he finally has a chance for a friend, which relieves me. So, thank you."

It worked. Sometime later, I noticed a small change in their relationship.

They collaborated to make my life happier at the times when my sickness was well enough to allow me a chance at normal activities; although my ice-cream cake on my nineteenth birthday had been a failed attempt, our trip to the amusement park had been one for the memory books, as well as our trip to the beach, our Christmas dinners together, our cheerleading at each other's spots events at school.

They were civil, no longer glaring, and able to joke with one another from time to time, though sometimes, embarrassingly, at my expense. He opened the door for her sometimes, she occasionally gave him a ride to the hospital.

Perhaps that, more than anything, convinced me of my true feelings towards her. She was...brilliant. She was able to make me feel normal, able to lift my brother's spirits after so many of my own failed tries.

Little by little, I began seeing her in a different light; a more pure, wonderful light, if that's possible.

I knew that my brother worried; he tried not to show his feelings on the matter of my attraction, but my own difficult nineteen years of experience had gifted me with wisdom – enough to understand the emotions he kept secret for my sake – yet also filled me with a desire for contentment; I wanted her, and I understood that chibi me resented that.

But he couldn't understand. He had never felt this way; this non-platonic desire towards someone, an ache when that person was not near, an urge to protect them from everything, despite knowing they could care for themselves perfectly fine, because you want to be their knight in shining armor.

And I certainly did feel that way about her. She was tough yet kind, serious yet not without a sense of humor. She was able to make me laugh, she was able to make me forget about my illness, she was able to make me feel normal.

It was anguishing to have her so close to me everyday. And so I made my move.

Never had I imagined that she would say yes, become my girlfriend, and someone so precious to me that it hurt to be apart, the way it had previously hurt to be so close. I was on cloud nine, seventh heaven, just heaven; she loved me too!

By the time I reached my twentieth, our relationship was at its best. Long walks, peaceful talks in the hospital room, dinners in the cafeteria, and silence as we enjoyed each other's company. I couldn't believe I had been missing out on so much for so long in my life. But no matter – I was complete and happy now. Content.

So when that awful day came around, the day when I colored myself and my hospital room and my brother with my blood, the only regret I had was having only a year with her, only two with us – me and her and chibi me - together. I could have had much longer, much more happiness. Other than that, I was blissful, and at peace.

Which is why, as they rushed me to the operating room, as I pictured the smiles that had been present on my girlfriend's and my brother's face for so long and for so many days since we had all come together, just before I drifted off from the sedatives, and for the rest of my life, I wished for nothing but their future happiness.

Edit: I fixed my crappy ending! It's still not that great, but since I wasn't in such a rush this time, it's better than the last one. I dedicate this chapter to MeteorLeopard, who gave me the idea to write in Jyuushiro's POV all the way back in first chapter. Thank you very much! He really deserved a chance to tell his story, though I personally hate writing in first person; it restricts so many chances at different emotions of other characters.

Wow, this story is ending up really long. If everything had gone like I planned, this would have been the last chapter, but I still have one-two more to write, depending on how long the next one is.

For those of you who keep up with all my stories, I've decided that I want to finish this and Melodies Unheard before focusing on the others, so don't expect an update for my other stories until that task is done - unless I get hit with some great inspiration or something. It would just be so much less pressure to get two stories out of the way first. Please bear with me! I will be working on the others from time to time, just not updating as frequently.