Disclaimer: I claim no ownership over 'Bleach' nor am I profiting from this.
Entering 2019 with an update dump. I hope everyone is doing okay.
Everyone else has become comfortable with waking up for midnight bathroom breaks and drinks. Toshiro occasionally wanders into the wrong room, but willingly returns to his on most nights. Izuru must suspect something because he begins leaving his door cracked and checking on him during their nightly routine.
Izuru waits until he's brushing his teeth. "Is something happening? Is it something Kenpachi can know about?"
Renji searches for something to watch. His morning toothpaste stain has been wiped away with Juushirou's diligent deep cleaning. He settles for some missed fingerprint on the faucet handles.
"You're going to be a worse mother hen than Momo," he threatens. "I can already see you changing."
No one should be worried anymore. He's eating everything placed before him. Chores are done. Chores here aren't even difficult or physically demanding like some previous foster homes. Here, chore requirements include scraping his dirty dishes, making the bed, and picking clothes and towels up from the bathroom floor. Juushiro and Shunsui make no fuss over his hair or preference for the shower over the luxurious bubble baths Momo enjoys.
Eventually, their patience will thin. Chores will increase. Someone will shave his head during the night. Izuru might protect him this time or offer to take whatever punishment is brought up.
Everyone swears this place is permanent. Juushiro and Shunsui are genuine people. Getting comfortable is dangerous, but he won't smash those hopes for his siblings. Rubbing turns the fingerprints into an ugly smudge but seems to satisfy Izuru.
"I promise to leave the door open in case you need something. Doctor Shihouin would probably invite you in for a session." Izuru moves towards the door. "You should face this eventually."
Yeah, he knows. Kenpachi continues threatening to reach down his throat and extract the problems from their hiding spots. It doesn't matter what anyone believes or promises. Something will happen and the patient facade will collapse.
Renji waits for the door to close and then begins his nighttime routine over again.
Anyone else would demand he quit stalling the inevitable bedtime. Here, Juushiro and Shunsui actually wait for them to finish. Neither has completely mastered tiptoeing or whispering. Everyone else receives their goodnight while he curls up against the wall, evening his breath and relaxing into an 'asleep' position.
Juushiro always perches on the edge. Sometimes, when he feels well enough, he sits up and recounts the progress from today. Even on the worst tantrum days, he manages to find something. Tonight, he requests Shunsui do it, citing a sore throat.
"I haven't heard Renji use any homophobic language since entering our house. You may continue thinking the words however much you want."
Juushiro's laugh is raw. Both he and Shunsui wait for the inevitable hunching over and hacking fit, but it never comes. He wheezes but remains upright. It doesn't matter though. Shunsui's voice becomes thin and crisp.
"You're going to bed right now. I hear another wheeze? I hear a little cough? Oxygen tank can sleep with us in bed tonight."
Maintaining his even breathing is difficult now. When does the real arguing begin? Juushiro and Shunsui seem the types to leave a room rather than argue around children, but he's guessed wrong in the past.
Juushiro moves first. He doesn't attempt denying or even giving a defeated sigh.
"I think our oxygen tank might be necessary for tonight," he admits quietly. "I'm certainly not in the danger zone, but requiring denying ourselves peaceful rest because my illness has us worried? I find that extremely inconsiderate."
Juushiro's admission mercifully cuts their routine short.
Nothing here is what people have promised. Renji kicks the blankets off, sighing, relieved as the house quiets down.
Liars are always better than false promises. Liars are familiar, routine things.
Everything's silent when he wakes, pajamas cold. He can't bunch up the sheets and push them around his feet tonight. A small movement has the mattress squishing. He looks between his dresser and laundry hamper, hopeful for some quick fix. His school uniform hangs, ironed and probably smelling like whatever detergent his foster parents use.
Gin never ironed. Laundry was done once a month in the same washtub which functioned as their bathtub. Once, it functioned as his toilet, during that week in the closet. Kenpachi didn't even know about his time in the closet. It was supposed to make things better. Living in the closet was going to teach him a lesson. Gin never specified what the lesson was though.
Sprinting through the darkened hallway is dangerous. Gin would sit up sometimes, determined to make sure he wasn't sneaking into the kitchen for any extra food. Tiptoeing isn't any better since he doesn't know where the creaking boards are. Renji lies in the damp space, wiggling his hips back and forth until the pajama pants slide down. Shivering, he grabs the soiled covers and pulls them over his head.
It is a familiar, routine thing.