Summer Rain: Chapter 03
To and fro, back and forth, to and fro, back and forth. He did not know how to stop, so along that river bank, he just kept walking.
He wanted to believe that if he looked for her long enough, she would come back. That if he tried hard enough, that awful thing that had happened would be rescinded into a past that had never been. That if he waited long enough, she would come and take his hand with that big, familiar smile on her face, and tell him that he had been a good boy.
Exhausted, he sat down on the grass, his knees drawn up against his chest. Quite suddenly, he was terrified, because he realized that he could no longer remember what his mother's voice was like. He could no longer remember what it was like to hear his wonderful mother calling his name with that distinctly joyous tone that he loved so dearly. The memories were all slipping away so fast.
Unconsciously, he had begun to claw at the grass patch beside him. He pulled out the roots of the plant and kept digging deeper and deeper and deeper into the dry ground till the skin at the tip of his fingers began to tear. He had not realized his wound till he stopped and pressed his palm against the ground in preparation to get up. He then crawled over to the river and dipped his injured hand into the water, wincing silently as the grass, soil and blood got washed away. He saw that his face had somehow gotten dirty as well, and he cleaned himself up, knowing that his father and sisters would not be happy if they saw him returning home filthy.
Noticing that the sun was setting, he knew he had to head back home soon. He looked up and he could see Tatsuki standing on the other side of the river bank, watching him with a strange look on her face. He stood up and dried his hands against his pants. He had seen her stop several times for the past two weeks, but all she ever did was watch him. Perhaps she was wondering when he would return to school and his karate classes, as he had been missing them ever since his mother passed away. But he could not find the will to go. He was not prepared to endure the looks and whispers that would go on behind him when they thought he was not listening. Or the condolences that they would extend to him, pretending that they understood how he felt, when in actual fact, they did not. They could not understand. How could they understand?
So he did not care for any of that phoniness.
Right now, it was more important for him to find his mother.
What if he missed his mother while he was in school? What if his mother was stuck somewhere and waiting for him to help her?
He could not take such risks since he was probably the only one who would be able to see her. Shifting his focus away from Tatsuki, he picked up his schoolbag and left the riverbank, knowing that he would be coming back tomorrow. And the day after tomorrow. And the day after the day after tomorrow…
He was not going to stop. Not till he found her.
Not till he found her.
- - -
It was raining today. Still, Ichigo relentlessly tried to search every nook and cranny of the river bank, walking its full length till there was nowhere for him to go, then walking back to where he started. The water had already gotten into his poncho, his shoes were thoroughly soaked and he was trembling violently from the cold, but he continued on with his search. He slipped and scrapped his knee, for the soil was slippery with the rain, but imperturbably, he got up and carried on with his search.
"ICHIGO!"
He looked up. Tatsuki had decided to stop today. "It's raining, Ichigo! Go home!"
He stared back at her blankly, not bothering to formulate any form of response. Nearly like he had not seen her, he then simply turned away and continued searching. He did cast a brief glance at her as she walked away, and she had this expression that looked almost painful. The look irritated him slightly, because it felt like Tatsuki pitied him, but he brushed that emotion away as soon as it came, because he knew that he had to find his mother.
Today was so similar to the day she died. To his young mind, it appeared extremely rational that since the two days were alike, therefore this would be the day he would find her. So he kept searching. Even when the sun had set and he could barely see clearly, illumination of the street lamps greatly dimmed by the torrent, he just kept on searching.
He was muddied, tired and hungry, but he refused to stop. He was unwilling to waver from his staunch belief that today would be the day when he would find his mother.
Then he heard footsteps behind him. He turned around excitedly, logic of all things possible seemingly to have vanished in that brief moment of blind hope.
And his heart fell. It was his father.
"Let's go home."
Ichigo's eyes widened as a strange sort of anger rose up to his throat. He glared back defiantly.
His father frowned in response, looking slightly frustrated. "Ichigo, let's go home."
He wanted to take his son's hand, but instinctively, Ichigo slapped the outstretched hand away and took a step back. And he abruptly kneeled onto the ground, his body locked in a fetal position, with his arms tucked determinedly between his thighs.
"Ichigo."
Ichigo refused to either respond or budge. His body simply curled even more tightly.
"Kurosaki Ichigo." His father's voice came out harsh and unfeeling, barking his full name like he was commanding a soldier. Ichigo could not remember ever hearing his father sound so angry before.
A hand grabbed his upper arm with bruising strength, fiercely pulling at it in an attempt to break him out of his position. And then, quite suddenly, Ichigo started to scream. It was like an unannounced explosion of that anger that he had tried to suppress, and he could not even understand why, but he simply kept screaming and screaming and screaming. He could not stop screaming even when his father released him. He just kept on screaming. He did not know how to stop. It was like something in him had snapped and he could not stop himself from screaming. He could not curb the emotions that were bursting out of him, threatening to swallow him up in its depths.
"Ichigo!" This time, his father's tone was hushed and intense; he was whispering the name of his son.
But still, Ichigo could not stop screaming. He wanted to scream till he died. He wanted to scream till someone would drown him in that river that was overflowing onto the river bank. He wanted to scream till he could undo everything that was done, till he could right the wrongs that he had committed, till he could wake up from this nightmare that did not seem to end.
And then he was pulled into his father's arm, his head pressed so hard against his chest that he could hear his father's heartbeat inside his head. And then his screams were replaced by choked whimpers, like the whine of an abused puppy begging for forgiveness. He gasped desperately for air through his constricted throat and he could not repress the uncontrollable shaking that had taken over his body. But he could hear the steady heartbeat that belonged to his father. A soothing rhythm that was loud, clear and steady against his ear. A rhythm that was alive. It was a tranquilizer to his insuppressible madness.
Then Ichigo brought his arms up, scrambling frantically for grip onto his father's wet shirt, pulling himself into a tighter embrace. He had not realized how he had grown to so desperately crave this scorching warmth against his own body. And he had not realized how emotionally starved he had become since the day his mother had passed away. He had not realized at all.
And he began to cry, for the first time since his mother's death. He began to moan and wail and scream, the flood of emotions that he had kept all locked up all gushing out in one enormous tirade. "I KILLED MOMMY! I KILLED HER! I KILLED HER! I KILLED MOMMY! I KILLED HER! I KILLED HER! I KILLED HER! I KILLED HER! I KILLED HER! I KILLED HER! I KILLED HER! I KILLED HER! I KILLED HER! I KILLED HER! I KILLED HER! I KILLED HER! I KILLED HER! I KILLED HER! I KILLED HER! I KILLED HER! I KILLED HER! I KILLED HER! I KILLED HER! I KILLED HER! I KILLED HER! I KILLED HER! I KILLED HER! I KILLED HER! I KILLED HER! I KILLED HER! I KILLED HER! I KILLED HER! I KILLED HER! I KILLED HER! I KILLED HER! I KILLED HER! I KILLED HER! I KILLED HER! I KILLED HER! I KILLED HER!"
The grief was destroying him from the inside. And to think that he had actually believed his grief had been emptied out when he had finally seen his mother's ashes being buried under the soil. But he would come to understand that grief came in waves. It would swallow him up and then recede, and then when he was not looking, he would be overcome by it all over again. The grief had broken him in ways a nine-year-old should never have been allowed to know, and it would continue breaking him for all the years that he would live. And he would learn that grief would never disappear. And he would also learn, in many years to come, that he would be able to convince himself that he was never responsible for her death, that there was nothing that he could have done, but he would still never be able to forgive himself.
So he kept screaming those words of guilt, screaming till his lungs felt like they had collapsed on itself, screaming though he knew that it would not make him feel any less guilty. His father's arms hugged him tighter. He just held him quietly in his embrace, allowing Ichigo to slowly fall silent with the soporific rise and fall of his father's chest.
"Daddy…"
"It's okay, Son. It's not your fault. It's not anyone's fault. So you don't have to search anymore. You don't have to search anymore."
No words came, and a long time passed.
Then his father finally let go of him, and he brought Ichigo onto his feet while he remained on his knees so that he was nearly the same height as the boy. His father reached out and took his hands, squeezing them firmly in his. His father's grasp was so different from his mother's. Hers had always been gentle, while his was strong. But they were both warm. And both made him feel safe. These hands were like making a promise to protect him and these hands would never let go even if the world come crashing down on them.
"Daddy…" His voice cracked.
"This was never anyone's fault, Ichigo. Not you, not mine, not anyone's. So why don't we go home now? Your baby sisters are both wondering why their big brother's not home yet. They miss having a big brother around."
"I couldn't protect…"
"It's all right," he cut him off gently. He smiled uncertainly for some reason, and his eyes appeared moist, but it was so dark that Ichigo could not be sure. He had seen that look before, on the day of his mother's death, but he had forgotten. But there will be a time, when he is much older, that he will recall that look in his father's eyes, and finally understand the meaning behind it.
His father brushed through his wet orange hair and rested his large palm against the nape of his neck. "Son, you can't protect everyone. There's only so much that one person can do. None of this is your fault. None of it. So you can stop looking now. You can stop looking for her now. We'll be fine. You understand that?"
Ichigo stared back at his father's face vacantly, his vision blurred by the tears that would not stop coming.
"Come on, Ichigo. Tell me that you understand what I'm saying. We'll be fine. Understand?"
Ichigo had heard his father's "we'll be fine" innumerable times since his mother's death, but this was the first time he really believed him. He finally nodded affirmatively as he brushed away the tears from his swollen eyes with the back of his hand.
His father rustled his hair and kissed his forehead before he lugged him up and secured him against his waist. The last time Ichigo had been carried this way was probably when he was four or five, just before his sisters were born. And being held like that again - it felt nice. His father picked up his schoolbag, and discarding the umbrella that he had brought along with him, he began to walk home. "Son, one day, when you are big and strong, you're going to find someone else that you would want to protect with your life. But before that time comes, I'll be the one protecting you. Not just you, but Karin and Yuzu as well. I'll protect all of you. How's that?"
Ichigo tightened his arms around his father's neck. As he pressed his cheek harder against his father's warmth, he was certain, without a shadow of a doubt in his mind, that he would always be safe in his father's arms.
- - -
His eyes fluttered open and the first thing that registered in his head was that every single inch of his body was aching like hell. Staring at the artificial azure sky above him, he briefly wondered how long he had been asleep. He still felt so damn tired.
"Ah, Kurosaki-san, you seem to have woken up? Shall we carry on with our training then?"
Ichigo firmly grasped the hilt of his sword that lay beside him, catching some loose gravel between his fingers in the process. He stood up, and seemingly right on cue, his stomach growled. Quite audibly. The blond shinigami's chuckle was hidden behind his fan, but the amusement in his pale eyes was not lost on him.
Ichigo responded with a sheepish grin. "After lunch."
I've found that someone, Dad. And this time, I WILL protect her. With my life.
- YL -
Note:
Death leaves a heartache that no one can heal. So love the ones that you should love, even if you hate them, because you don't want to look back, thinking that there must have been something else that you could have done.