Chapter Three: Letting Go

"Tell me."

"No."

"Tell me."

"No."

After the third iteration of this on the third hour, all of their school friends by now looked amused and puzzled. "What exactly are you no-ing, Ichigo?" Tatsuki had to ask.

Ichigo had been in an increasingly bad mood. "She wants to know about Mom," he said flatly. None of their other friends seemed to know what this meant, but Tatsuki paused and her eyes widened.

"You," she said, her eyes flashing, grabbing Yoruichi's arm as everyone left the classroom for morning break, "come with me. You two as well."

They left a silent, dark, and sour Ichigo in his seat and left the classroom behind a storming Tatsuki. She was the only one who seemed to know what was going on. They found a corner of a courtyard surrounded by lockers outside, in the chilly morning air, and Tatsuki whirled around to face the three of them - to glare at a surprised Yoruichi in particular.

"What is your problem?" Tatsuki demanded.

"What is my problem?" said Yoruichi disbelievingly. "I'm trying to help; what is your problem -?"

"I get that you're trying to help," said Tatsuki, as if trying to hold onto a small sliver of patience. "But this is not the way to do it."

"All I did was ask him how his Mom died. It's not supposed to be a hugely secret piece of information," said Yoruichi, irritated. "What did happen to Ichigo's mother? Why does he only live with his father and sisters?"

"Look… it's not my place to say," Tatsuki sighed. "It's one of those stories that you don't just tell for someone else. But let me tell you my side of the story. Because he was nine, and I'd already been his friend for five years when it happened.

"You probably can't even picture Ichigo as a little kid. He was this total wimpy, big-hearted dork. Quirky and odd, bright and curious, a total nerd, always grinning. But more than anything, do you know what made him smile biggest? His Mom. He was a total mama's boy.

"Really. I always used to beat him in karate fights, because he wasn't very strong, and whenever I beat him he would start crying. It was super annoying. He was the guy; wasn't it supposed to be the other way around? But then his Mom would come in. And he'd look around. All his tears would dry. This huge smile would come onto his face, and he'd run into her arms. He didn't even care who was looking.

"The day after everyone heard she'd died, when we were nine, he didn't go to school. He didn't go to karate, either. So I went looking for him. He was at the riverbank where everyone heard she'd died… pretty brutally. He'd been there all day. And he did that for days. He told his Dad he was walking to school, and then he walked to the riverbank, and he stayed there all day. He wandered up and down the bank, looking lost, silent - not even crying. He squatted down when he was tired and then wandered some more. I'd watch him.

"It was like he was… waiting for something. Waiting for her."

He was hoping she'd become a Plus, Yoruichi realized sympathetically. And she was going to hazard a wild-ass guess that Masaki never became one.

"He completely changed after that," Tatsuki finished, trying to smile. "It was… terrible to watch, actually. He stopped crying. He started winning fights. But he was never the same. He was all… dark and stoical and closed-up and tough. Like you're seeing now.

"And he's been that way ever since."

That explained a lot. Ichigo was still stuck in the place he'd been when his Mom died. He was a story on pause.

"So… don't you get it, you can't just… pester him about that. Like it's not a big deal. Because it is a big deal," said Tatsuki with effort, pained.

Yoruichi frowned. "... Yeah," she said seriously. "I get that. I'll apologize."

Chad and Orihime looked very sad, quiet. It was plain neither of them had known any of this about Ichigo.

"I'd do anything," Orihime whispered as they went back to class, "to give his mother back to him."

"Yeah," said Chad quietly, looking down.

"Me too," Yoruichi realized, and what really got her was that she couldn't. It was one of the only things no Shinigami could do.

She sat down next to Ichigo as their class filtered back into the classroom.

"I suppose you got my whole life story," he said darkly.

"... Tatsuki only told us her side of things. She didn't say what happened to your Mom, and she didn't say what your Mom was like," said Yoruichi. "I'm sorry. I'll stop picking. I'll… think of some other way to fill in that part of your life instead."

Ichigo relaxed, looking tired. "Thanks," he said softly.

"What the hell happened to Masaki?"

Urahara looked up from the spreadsheets detailing the accounts of his shop and sighed. He was sitting in the front entryway, up on a platform, though it was night and the store was closed. Yoruichi stood there, hands on her hips, scowling.

"I was wondering when you'd get to that," said Urahara.

"So? The lady never became a Plus even though her kid stuck to her like glue. That's enough to make anyone stay behind, especially a Quincy remnant. What the hell happened to Masaki?"

"Remember, she was a Quincy remnant with sealed powers," said Urahara softly. "Like Isshin with the Shinigami."

"What the hell does that have to do with anythi -?"

"She was killed by the Hollow Grand Fisher."

Yoruichi's eyes widened.

"Ichigo doesn't know," said Urahara. "But he ran into the Hollow's lure on that riverbank. He thought he was saving a girl from jumping into the river and drowning herself. All he knows is that his Mom still had enough presence to scream and run after him. She jumped on top of him and used her body as a shield. When he woke up, his mother was dead and bloody on top of him. The girl was gone and, unbeknownst to him, so was the Hollow.

"The worst part?" Urahara smiled grimly to Yoruichi's horrified face. "Grand Fisher is still at large. Masaki's soul is still inside him."

"How the hell am I supposed to get him through this if I'm not allowed to tell him it was a Hollow?" said Yoruichi incredulously.

"Get creative," said Urahara with a humorless smirk.

"I think I've figured out a way around the Mom issue," said Yoruichi on the walk to school the next morning. She was more cautious this time.

"Great," said Ichigo flatly. "And that is?"

"Well, your Mom wasn't defined by how she died. How about… I come to your place after school, and you tell me what she was like in life? You know, some memories you have of her. Fond memories."

Ichigo paused completely on the sidewalk. "Yeah," he realized, brown eyes widening slightly. "That… actually might work."

Yoruichi smiled. "See?" she said. "I'm not always pushy. Sometimes I have good ideas."

"Running off of the minimal information I have, we'll see," said Ichigo, and she realized he was actually smiling and making a joke.

"Hey!" she said, play-shoving him. "I'm being nice!"

They went to school that day, and their friends were surprised to find them perfectly cheerful again. "What's up, guys?" said Yoruichi as she and Ichigo, now full of cheer, sat down in their midst.

"She's found a solution," said Ichigo dryly at their stares. "After school at my place, I'm telling her good memories instead."

"That… sounds wonderful," said Orihime warmly. "A good answer. I know I always prefer to talk about happy things in front of my brother's shrine."

"Yeah… and after I lost my abuelo in Mexico… I mean, I always prefer my good memories of him, too," Chad admitted.

"See?" said Tatsuki, smiling warmly. "We get it."

"... Thanks, Tatsuki," said Ichigo, and in his own muted way, they could tell he meant it. Tatsuki gave a friendly two fingered salute.

They had a pleasant lunch together, and that afternoon after school, Yoruichi walked home with Ichigo and they entered through the back door again. "SHE IS BACK! I KNEW YOU COULD DO IT, MY SON ICHIGO!" Isshin thundered from his hospital office with the door open connected to the family room.

"Oi," said Ichigo, irritated. "We're still not dating."

"Yeah, I'm way above his level," said Yoruichi.

"Hey!" said Ichigo, offended.

"What? I was offering support in defense of your argument," said Yoruichi with mock innocence.

"Nice to see you again, Yoruichi," Yuzu smiled from where she was vacuuming the rug. She was the mother substitute, it seemed.

"Hey, kiddo," said Yoruichi, winking and ruffling her hair on the way by.

"Just so you know, Ichigo, her going up to your room again looks very suspicious," said Karin from the table where she was doing homework, smirking.

"You're as bad as Dad," said Ichigo as he entered the stairs.

"Hey! I am nothing like Goat-Chin!" Karin shouted heatedly, as Isshin cackled knowingly from his office.

"I have infected them!"

"AAHH!"

Thundering could suddenly be heard below.

"Should we go back and help?" Yoruichi suggested.

"Nah," said Ichigo. "Leave them to fend for themselves."

And so they entered his room again. He took the bed, and Yoruichi took the desk chair with a notebook and a pencil. "I am making notes on your oh-so-fascinating life," she said, though in private she knew she was doing it mostly for show. "So… go ahead. Happy memories of your Mom."

"Okay. Well…" He sat back, sighed, and began. "She always smelled really relaxing. Like lavender perfume. I don't know if that's the kind of thing you should put in a school report… or anything… but that's the first thing to come to mind. Lavender perfume… and rainfall. Because it was raining on the riverbank the day she died. There were all these weeping willow trees… and it was dark and shady… and she smelled like lavender. So I always get all these memories whenever I experience any of those things.

"She, uh, she was really pretty. She had these wavy cinnamon-colored curls, and she always wore this really nice makeup even though she didn't need it. She used hand lotion, so when she took care of you, when you were sick, her hands were always really soft. And she wore sweaters, and skirts, and little chain necklaces - really classy, you know?

"She was a good Mom. She was a nurse for Dad, and a homemaker, and she tried so hard for us. To make our early memories safe and happy ones, full of nurture and love. She was a great cook. She loved singing along to the radio while she was doing stuff around the house - just sort of softly, to herself.

"She always smiled and pretended she was happy, even when she wasn't. She had this great sense of humor - she was really good at dealing with my Dad and how spazzy he's always been, and she had this calm, joking, playful sense of humor. She could pull him down off a big show of energy with a teasing, sarcastic, laughing little remark. She was smart, which helped, super smart. And he was… God, he was besotted by her. He never said it. You could just… tell. Dad told me once that he used to be a flirt, but I never saw it. For as long as I've known him, his entire life has always been either During Masaki or After Masaki.

"She was really tough, too. Forward. But she was never in your face about it. She never judged anyone else by their strength, and she was really understated in how she showed her own. Mom was a rock. That was all. She never actually judged anyone, really. I think people liked that. She pulled people in.

"She pulled us in. She was our whole solar system. She was our sun, and everything in the house revolved around her. So when she was gone… it was… it was tough." He swallowed, his voice gruff and his eyes distant, misty. He wasn't even in his bedroom anymore. "No one knew what to do. The sun we'd all revolved around… it was gone.

"And… you don't get it, Yoruichi, I took that from them. I saw that girl I thought was about to jump into the river… I ran across the street full of cars to try to save her… because I'm an idiot. I thought I was some big fucking hero. I'm not.

"And… and Mom ran across the street after me. She was hit by a car instead of me. Her body pushed me out of the way…" Now he was choked up. "And saved mine. I woke up… and I turned around on the bank… and her eyes were just staring into mine. Blank, you know? She was just lying there. Dead. And I was covered in her blood. And I shoved her away from me, and my nails got under her skin, and I got to my feet covered in mud and blood, and I threw up.

"And then I just started screaming. I don't even know what I was screaming. I kept screaming her name, apologizing to her, begging her to come back. People who'd stopped had to pull me away. I got hysterical. I really started screaming. In the ambulance they had to sedate me. That's the last thing I remember from that day. The ambulance, and the doors closing, and her body and the riverbank starting to fall away…

"And… and no one was angry at me. That was the part that got me. That was worst. Because I'd done that. I'd taken her from them. If it weren't for me, she'd still be alive. And it just would have been so much easier… if someone… my Dad, my toddler sisters… had gotten angry at with me. Had screamed at me. Had hated me. I mean - I hated me!

"But no one else did. Everyone just… forgave me. And it was sickening because - because I didn't deserve to be forgiven."

"... Have you ever apologized to them? Talked to them about it? Talked to your mother's memory about it?" Yoruichi asked softly.

"... No." Ichigo shook his head slowly. "In the end…" And he'd withdrawn into himself darkly. "In the end I guess I'm just chicken-shit."

"Do you know which car hit her?" Yoruichi asked. "Was… was anyone arrested?"

"No. That was the weird thing. There were no dents in any cars." He swallowed. "She didn't even look like she'd been hit by a car. It was like… like a huge animal had ripped claw marks into her back. And she was dead. I never saw her again."

"... Ichigo, can I share something with you? There's only one rule. There is a reason I transferred cities and homes. I have a dangerous past I'm trying to escape, and you… can't know how I know this," said Yoruichi slowly.

"... Okay," he said at last, frowning.

"You're not going to like it," she warned him.

"Okay."

"I… I've seen this pattern before… and I don't think your mother was hit by a car."

Ichigo's eyes widened.

"I think someone or something killed her… but it wasn't you."

Ichigo straightened. "How -?!"

"Remember the rule," Yoruichi warned him, pointing.

"You can't seriously expect me not to ask!" said Ichigo furiously, disbelieving.

"You can ask. And I can't answer. It's… physically dangerous for me, Ichigo," said Yoruichi, frowning and looking away, holding her arms around herself. "You're just… going to have to trust me. There are some things about my past you might not ever know.

"But I think your mother's death might have been premeditated. I'm pretty sure your family's no longer in danger, but you… didn't kill your mother."

Ichigo paused - relaxed. And then his eyes widened and his whole body relaxed. He clutched at his chest, breathing deeply. He sat there, his eyes a bit watery and red, for a long time.

"... You really think so?" he whispered at last.

Yoruichi looked over at him sadly. "Yeah. I do," she said meaningfully, and he looked up. "It wouldn't have been your fault anyway. You did something reckless… so don't be so reckless. But your intentions… they weren't bad. Murder implies intention. You didn't murder your mother because you didn't intend her death.

"Even had it been a car accident, it still wouldn't have been your fault."

Ichigo swallowed and looked down.

"You were just a dumb kid, Ichigo," said Yoruichi gently, exasperated. "Everyone's a dumb kid at some point. But I stand by what I said. I think someone was trying to lure you in."

"Why?" Ichigo looked up. "And why did they stop with my Mom? ... It's one of the things you can't tell me," he realized, seeing her reserved expression. He took a deep breath and nodded, ran a hand over his face and stared unseeingly at the closet as if it held all the answers to life's big questions.

"Tatsuki told me," said Yoruichi at last, "that you used to be a radically different person. That you changed after your Mom died. I think it's because of guilt. I think you've had this hanging over your head for a long time and you've let it define you."

Ichigo frowned. "I… don't like that," he realized. "But… I don't know who I am… without anger, and guilt, and… heaviness, I don't know. I sound super angsty and whiny, don't I?" he said in disgust.

Yoruichi suppressed a smile. "Only a little bit."

They looked at each other and laughed softly.

"Thanks, Yoruichi," said Ichigo, "for butting in."

"No problem. I can help you figure out who you are without the guilt, Ichigo," said Yoruichi. "But… you have to really get past this first."

"What do you mean?" said Ichigo slowly.

"I want you to somehow say something you would say to your Mom. As if looking her in the eye. I know it sounds cheesy, but I think it would help. You could visit her grave, but you don't have to. You could write a letter and keep it locked in a desk drawer. Fuck, I don't care. I don't even have to see it.

"But you should say something to her, Ichigo. Stop wallowing in self-pity and calling yourself chicken-shit. Actually tell her something.

"And… what you told me, about wanting your family to hate you? This is the part you're going to dislike most.

"You're going to have to talk to your family."

Ichigo

Ichigo decided on the letter, not the graveside conversation. At first he hated himself for taking what he saw as the easy way out, but then he heard Yoruichi in his head get exasperated and start yelling at him. Some of the self-hate went away and he smiled a little, wryly, to himself.

In her own pushy, tough-love way, Yoruichi actually was a good friend.

At least he was doing something, he decided, so that night after Yoruichi left, he sat at the desk in his room, took out a blank sheet of paper and a pen… and stared at the sheet of paper. Twiddling the pen. Nerves, writer's block, and confused fear all mixed up inside him. Now that the moment was here, he was terrified.

Ichigo tried to imagine his mother's face, talking to her… but in his head she always looked angry and turned away, and he always felt cold in his heart and a lump in his throat. Something climbed half-clung up Ichigo's throat, words…

Fuck it, he decided, and he just started writing. Freeform, flow of thought.

Mom, please don't turn away. Please wait. I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

Just hear me out.

Look, I… I know you're angry with me. You're probably angry with me. I know why you didn't stick around. I know why. I took you away from your husband and daughters, your family. You're angry with me. I'm sorry. I was an idiot. I know it's probably not my fault, or not entirely, but I'm still sorry.

But, look - shouldn't you have wanted to stay for your husband and daughters? Why didn't you? Karin and Yuzu can See. You didn't have to look at me… or even talk to me… in order to say goodbye to them. I mean… it would have hurt, but I'd have understood. I'd have gotten it.

But you didn't stay. You left. I guess you didn't have enough to stick around for.

… Maybe it's not fair of me to get angry with you.

You know, it's weird. All these years I've been trying so hard not to cry. I was always such a total wimp as a kid - not a guy at all. And I thought - finally, after this - I could stop crying. Be a man, you know? But… I'm tired of not crying. I'm tired of pretending not to feel guilty. I'm tired of missing you.

I wish you were here. Everything would have made more sense if you were here. But if you were here, there wouldn't be a problem. But you're not. And now… I don't even know who to blame anymore.

I have all this anger, but no place to put it.

So I'll just say: I fucking hate that you're gone. That you're never going to see me grow up. It makes me want to punch people, and scream, and throw things, and do lots of things that I really can't. I hate even more that I know Dad misses you. And I hate even more that when you died, Karin and Yuzu had just entered preschool.

That's all the time you got with them. That's all the time they got with you. I got more time than them.

And I guess that's what I hate the most. That you loved life - and you loved people - and everyone loved you. And you're the one that died. What kind of sick fuck up there in the universe decided that? What sick, twisted fuck on a cosmic level could have prevented that from happening, and they didn't?

It's why I don't believe in anything. Fuck that noise.

Because it doesn't make any sense! It doesn't make any sense for someone to look at this beautiful, perfect, stupendous woman who has two toddler kids and her entire life going for her and loving family and lots of friends. And for them to then look at her nerdy, fuckup, wimpy son who can't even win a karate match against the only girl in his class, who can't stand up to any of the bullies who pick on him, who clings to her skirts all the time with his snotty, runny little nose, who does nothing of value and probably never will.

And it makes no fucking sense for them to decide to take out the Mom!

So there it is. The guilt. Then the anger at you. Then the anger at the world, at cosmic forces. And now it's all gone. And I'm just… numb. I don't know where to go from here. I don't know what to say. I wish you were here to help me figure out what to do.

But you're not. You haven't been for a long time. I'm not that snot-nosed kid anymore. I don't really know who I am.

And I've got to start facing up to things and figuring things out for myself.

So I guess I'll just end by telling you… I'm sorry. I don't know if you'll ever forgive me, but I am. And I forgive you… for not sticking around. And… I don't know about the universe. Maybe I'm right. Maybe there's nothing there. Maybe life just isn't fair.

Maybe you aren't there either. Maybe… maybe you're not angry, because as much as it hurts, you're not there. Maybe you remember dying and that's it.

And that fucking sucks. But there's nothing I can do about it.

So if you are still listening… I guess I no longer need you to. Pay attention to Karin and Yuzu, to Dad. Maybe they need it. But I'm signing off. I'll always love you.

But it's time to move past that.

Ichigo put the pen back down, his hand shaking. He put the letter in a desk drawer and shut the drawer, just as Yoruichi had recommended. The desk was blank, as if the letter and its contents had never been. But everything was different.

Ichigo sat back, let out a deep sigh, took deep breaths, his hand over his eyes in the desk chair. It took him a minute or two to realize he was crying - damn near silently, but crying. It took him even longer to realize he hadn't really cried since that day at the riverbank.

He felt empty at the end, relieved, exhausted, tired. Spent, but not in a bad way. All these awful emotions he had forgotten were inside him… they were gone. It felt like the past six years had been a very long day, and it had ended, and now he was tired.

He remembered the distant scream of his name coming just before his mother's death in his head. Pulled it to the forefront. But… it didn't have the same weight that it used to. If anything, there was fear, that something else had done that and it… wasn't him. Protective feelings toward Yoruichi, and whatever shady past she was innocently running from.

His mind had moved on.

He cleaned himself up in the bathroom slowly, with shaking hands. Then he went down to the kitchen table mechanically, listened to his family bicker and laugh and argue with one another as if from a great distance, silently…

"Hey, Ichigo. You okay?" Ichigo looked up to find everyone staring at him. Their faces ran from nonplussed to outright concerned.

Well he couldn't let them worry. That would just bring guilt back again, and he was currently trying to avoid guilt. He screwed up his courage. Now was as good a time as any.

"Dad, why weren't you angry with me after Mom passed away?"

A cold, terrified, ringing silence followed the words.

"And…" Ichigo looked down. "And I know this topic always upsets everybody, especially Yuzu, and I should probably just let it go. But… I want to know. I was angry with me… and I want to know why everyone else pretended not to be."

He looked up hesitantly.

A pause. Then Karin scoffed. "I wasn't angry at you," she said contemptuously. "What the hell did you do? Contrary to your belief, the world does not actually revolve around you, Ichi-nii. I am kind of pissed off that you're obviously still obsessed over thinking it does, though."

Ichigo blinked in surprise.

"Yeah, I… I wasn't angry at you either," said Yuzu, soft and uncertain. "I guess I just figured… you didn't mean to do anything, and you had enough on your plate."

The feeling that filled him was forgiveness. What followed forgiveness was gratitude - gratefulness over a gift that he didn't deserve and he had anyway. Ichigo took a deep breath and sat back, studiously staring at the floor and trying hard not to get cry.

Maybe the universe wasn't always a complete horror-show after all.

"If I'd gotten angry with you, Ichigo, Masaki would have gotten really angry with me," said Isshin, surprised. Ichigo looked up. "I mean, think about it. She gave her life to protect you. If she'd resented having to do it, she wouldn't have done it. She wasn't that kind of person.

"I'm not angry. I fell in love, got married, and had children with a beautiful woman who gave her life for her kid. And we had lots of good times together. I'm really lucky. You're even more lucky, though. You're the kid she willingly gave up her life for. Good luck living up to that legacy.

"And eat your vegetables."

Isshin went back to his food.

"... What?" he said through a mouthful of food when he found all three of his kids staring at him. "Look, tragedy can seem romantic, but you're all too young to pull it off."

Ichigo gave a half-laugh and smiled. Yuzu was crying, but it was the happy kind of crying. Karin admitted, "This may be the one and only time I will ever say this, Dad, but you can actually be kind of cool."

Instead of getting joking and freaking her out, their Dad smiled. "Yeah. Masaki only told me I was kind of cool once, too. She used almost those exact same words. I was smoking a cigarette outside, leaning against a wall. I remember it because I'm pretty sure it's the only time she ever paid me a direct compliment. It was in college. I wasn't sure what the hell I'd done right accidentally, after all that trying on purpose, but it felt pretty great.

"It took me a long time, but I realized I'd finally met someone whose compliments made me feel like I was on the top of the world." He smiled reminiscently. "Try to find someone like that. Get old. Die after me. That's all I ask."

"... You don't care whether or not I become a doctor?" said Ichigo, surprised, remembering the other big part he had thought Yoruichi had wanted to talk about.

"Nah, I don't give a shit. Actually, if you're still living in my house twenty years from now, I might murder you," said Dad conversationally. "As a matter of fact, become anything else on the face of the planet except a doctor. Good luck figuring that out."

Ichigo came to the unexpected realization that his Dad was awesome and the rest of dinner was eaten in a surprisingly peaceful silence.