1

"He was the most adorable little boy. He would always hold on to Masaki's hand with the cutest smile on his face. He picked flowers for her from the parks and gave her the drawings that he did in school. He would always leave the last candy for her and give her the bigger half of his favorite chocolate ice cream waffle. When Masaki cooked, he would always tug at her skirt and offer to help fill the rice bowls, carry the dishes and prepare the dinner table. He was inseparable from her. Masaki was his world, his entire, entire world."

He sighs and his thumb flicks against his cigarette, its ashes falling on the ground between his feet.

"I should have been there. I should have saved Masaki. I should have saved him. I should have stopped everything."

She does not speak. She has no words.

And he says, "I destroyed him."

The whiffs of tobacco mingles with the dampness of the night, creating a pungent smell of grief she can almost taste upon her own tongue.

"I should have been there. I knew. I felt something was wrong. I had this sick, awful feeling in my gut that told me something was wrong. I should have gone with her. I should have gone to her." He presses the hilt of his hands against the bone of his brows, his body bent like in a fervent prayer. His fingers curls into a fist. "I saw the sky was overcast. And I gave her an umbrella. And I kissed her. And I told her to have a safe trip. And," he relaxes the fist and places his palms together. "And I never saw her again. I never saw her breathing, warm and… alive again."

He drops the cigarette that has now burnt too close to his hand. "If I had not opened the clinic that day. If I had gone with her. If I hadn't given her the umbrella. If I had kept my powers. If I had ran to her when I felt something was off. The thousand of probabilities run through my head. Years, so many years and they still run through my head. She was my everything. She was everyone's everything, Yuzu's, Karin's, Ichigo's, and I destroyed all of that."

His grief, she can now taste; it is bitter, and strangely not unfamiliar, even if the grief is not hers.

"He looks so much like his mother." The words come like tears that fall in the rain, meant to be unseen.

And quite suddenly, she understands the familiarity of that bitterness that lingers at the back of her throat.

Because she has seen and heard it so many times. It is resignation to a fate that can never be changed, regret that one cannot erase and pining that will never disappear. It is the same. So many times she has seen it in her own brother and now, unexpectedly, she sees it in this man who has never shown a trace of sorrow in front of his children.

And she knows that it pains him. Every time he sees the son he loves, he sees the woman he loves. And he will see how powerless he has been and he will allow the guilt and anger and sadness to bury him alive. All this years he has been miserable but has never admitted it to anyone.

She exhales soundlessly, her breath condensing into clouds of white fumes in the cold air. Soon it will be a year. With the cherry blossoms all gone, it will soon be a year. "You are a good father, Kurosaki-san. You held the family together when it threatened to fall apart. You had never let go. You were always there for him, for the whole family. Ichigo knows that."

"But you know, there are times when I realize that I have to let go. Times when I realize that he's all grown up in a world where he no longer needs me to hold his hand. Times when I realize that I have to learn to let go." He closes his eyes, the trembling of his long lashes apparent against the shadow of the orange streetlamp. "Because he has found another hand to hold on to."

"Kurosaki-san…"

"Don't let go, Rukia."

She shakes her head. "I've done nothing for you to trust me. I've only placed him in harm's way and…"

"Ichigo," he says, "He's a sword without a sheath. A sword without a sheath is a sword that lives in fear of hurting others. You became his sheath, Rukia. When you came, you became his sheath and he changed. He changed into the man he would have surely become if Masaki had never left."

He turns to her, his gaze deeply sorrowful. "I've kept too many secrets, done too little, pretended for too long and made him blame himself for the sin that was mine to bear. So as awful as it is of me to ask that of you, don't let go. Because right now, there's nothing I can do to help him."

He looks away. "And Rukia, nothing terrifies a father more than the realization that he cannot do anything for his only son."

- YL -