A hand rested gently on his shoulder in an attempt to give him comfort. His brow twitched in slight irritation, but other than that there was no outward sign of annoyance, as calm and collected as ever.

"Well, if that's all." The noble huffed, his son close by, the commander Damian Talor. The silver haired man gave a sigh and a look towards the young prince offering an apology for the rash behavior of his father. It was one of the few things keeping Toshiro Hitsugaya from just kicking the man before him right through the window.

Finally the head of the Talor Family, in charge of affairs in Africa, left the boy to his peace. Behind him, hand still on his shoulder, Satoru sat in his throne, letting his weariness show through only when the other two had left.

"Well done." Satoru chuckled. "That man was always a particularly…open-minded man, shall we say."

"I wanted to strangle him." Toshiro growled.

His father let out a hoarse laugh at that.

"Once you're the Soul King he won't hound you so much." The current king teased. "Many more still think you too young, remember that."

"I'm used to it, trust me."

Now there was simply a slight chuckle.

They'd been at this for a week now, Satoru giving his son seemingly random things to do, showing him to different people that either grated the boy's nerves or made him extremely nervous. He'd been put to the test against various situations, both people and scenarios of possibility, like fights between families or even a full out civil war. One minute they'd be having a normal conversation and then his father would ask a very serious question. The young prince wondered if Sylfie was behind the style of question giving. Thankfully he'd grown accustomed to it and only hesitated a moment to think before answering. He still wondered how Karin could reply without batting an eyelash.

He shifted his thoughts away from her quickly, focusing on his father. The man truly looked like a ghost, pale and thin, his very shape seeming to blur slightly as he reached his end.

The center of Toshiro's mark still remained bare.

"Father, you should return to bed." Toshiro said with a frown, worried for the man.

"Oh, I'll be fine." Satoru waved him off. "Lean down a moment, I need to ask you something."

"There's no one here." Toshiro lifted a brow.

That piercing blue-green gaze quieted him and he leaned down so the man could whisper in his ear.

"Have you and Lady Karin, as they say, done 'it' yet?"

Toshiro snapped back up straight, face bright red, and refused to look his father in the eye.

"Wh-why would you ask that!?" He said, flustered. "Of course not! I…It's…um…"

Hearing laughter, Toshiro stopped talking and watched the white haired man nearly double over laughing despite how easily it could slip into a coughing fit.

"That's not funny!"

Satoru couldn't answer, as busy as he was with laughing. Frustrated, Toshiro kept his back turned, silently steaming with red still spread across his cheeks. The mere thought made him feel nervous.

"Alright, alright, I'm sorry." Satoru said, his laughter dying down as he tried to get his son's attention back, and not the angry kind. "It just came to me and I wanted to see your reaction."

"Hmph."

"Now, no need to be so cold." With shaky legs he managed to stand, Toshiro turning back to keep an eye on him. "Walk with me, if you would."

Not about to refuse and possibly let him fall, unable to get up, Toshiro stayed close by his father as they walked. They headed to the main room, slowly making their way to the balcony, the velvet carpet soft on their feet. There they stood quietly, father and son, almost indistinguishable from behind save for Toshiro's shorter hair and height. His father, though slouched, stood at five foot eight, while he was five foot five. He'd been happy to finally grow, no longer the tiny Captain that had to look up at everyone other than children.

"My son, tomorrow I will not be here."

The words were practically whispered, but they were nearly deafening to Toshiro, each syllable clear as a bell. His hands gripped tightly to the railing. Soft, wrinkled hands rested atop his own and the young prince turned to look up at his father with eyes full of pain and sadness.

"Do not despair, my dear son." The king spoke softly with a smile. "I am more than happy to pass on my legacy to you, and my life has had meaning to it. All I ask is you see me off with a smile."

"That's hard…" Toshiro looked downward.

"I can understand that." Satoru paused, taking Toshiro's right hand between both of his own, the hand with the mark over top of his son's. "You have more than proven your worth as King, Toshiro. May my power benefit you during your reign."

Teal eyes widened, fixated on the hand above his own, the white mark burning brightly with power. His own icy presence was suddenly muffled by the feeling of light and power, fully released by the King of Light for this one moment. White light rose from the king's skin before twisting through the air and becoming an icy blue-white, merging with the prince's to symbolize the transfer of power. Toshiro's hand felt like it was burning but he resisted the impulse to pull away despite the pain. Ice started to spread across the wooden floor as his Spiritual Pressure rose to match that given off by his father. From afar one would think they were testing each other, the two colors of their powers twisting and merging together. Anyone who dared enter was pushed roughly to the ground, experiencing first-hand the terrifying power of the Soul King up close.

Finally the white died away and the icy blue dominated. Heaving a tired sigh the Soul King pulled his hands away, letting Toshiro stare wide-eyed at the mark on his hand, transparent no longer and burning with the same icy blue light as the power around him and the ice glittering on the floors beneath him. The innermost mark of the King glowed white instead.

The mark dulled, though not completely, and the oppressing Spiritual Pressure died back down. The ice cracked and faded away to return to the air. If not for the startled, as well as frightened, look on the prince's face, the completed birthmark on his hand, and the utterly exhausted king, no one would know anything had just occurred.

Satoru collapsed and Toshiro snapped out of his trance in a panic.

"Father!" His voice cracked as his pain seeped through, his fear of losing the man greater than his control.

A blur of wind and Ruala was there, carefully lifting the frail old man into her arms, Sofia in her large panther form there to comfort the distressed prince. She kept him grounded while the guardian rushed his father off to the infirmary. He held tight to her fur, watching helplessly as the other two vanished deeper inside, leaving him with the panther. This was the moment he dreaded, the moment he had hoped to avoid for as long as possible. It was just as bad as he had thought it would be, a stab right to the heart, mind attempting to cover the truth with hopes he would make it. But then his earlier words would ring through his head; the king knew he would not live through the night.

Sofia purred in comfort, rubbing her head up against the boy's chest. She was to keep him here unless he was willing to witness the end for himself. That was entirely up to him. Currently all he could do was shake like a leaf and bury his face into the panther's neck fur. She wished to offer words of comfort but could not do so in this form, only able to offer physical support. The feline only wished a certain fire girl were here to bring him comfort.

'You should see him off.' Hyorinmaru offered in a low, quiet tone, avoiding the words sure to break his master down further. 'Remember what he asked? See him off with a smile. It will give him the peace he deserves.'

'Y…Yes…I will…' Releasing his tight hold on the familiar he brushed aside his tears and stood. Violet eyes gave him a questioning look and by now Toshiro could understand her body language to a certain extent. "I'm…I'm going to say goodbye."

The violet eyes softened and the white head bobbed in agreement, the feline walking next to him as they headed towards the infirmary.

At the doors he hesitated, unsure of himself, of whether he could manage a smile for something that cut him so deeply. Even now he couldn't seem to move, frozen in place by the fear of watching someone he loved dying before him. His hand shook as he held it up to open it.

A soft head gave a gentle nudge and he breathed deeply. The door slid open quickly so that he wouldn't have time to stop himself. The obstacle overcome, he made his way slowly, painful step by painful step, over to where Ruala attempted to keep the king alive a little longer.

The man was conscious once more and he placed his hand over Ruala's, pausing her healing, as he spotted the distraught boy walking towards him.

"Now, now, don't look so down." Satoru attempted to smile, voice practically a hoarse whisper, the smile strained with effort. A hand was held up.

Toshiro grabbed that hand like a lifeline, not bothering to hide the tears the streamed down his face.

"Please smile, my son." Satoru croaked, each breath taking too much effort. "You don't know…how much a room…lights up when…you smile."

"I can't!" Toshiro shut his eyes and held his father's cold hand to his chest. "I can't…It hurts…"

"Dear Toshiro…don't let my death…drag you down…" Satoru coughed and the boy tensed, holding his breath. "Well…it seems this…is it for me."

"No, please." Toshiro begged, leaning forward and putting his arms around his father, head on the man's chest. "Don't leave me…please…"

Ruala could hardly stand to watch the prince break down, could hardly listen to the sobs that racked the boy's body without tearing up as well. It was too much; she left the room. For a sensitive soul as she, watching the scene play out before her struck deep inside.

The same could be said for Toshiro as he held nothing back, unconcerned with pretending to be cool and collected when his father was leaving him forever.

"Enough of that, Shiro." Satoru sighed, using his son's nickname for the first time. That only stabbed the blade deeper into the boy's heart, though the sobbing stopped for a moment as Toshiro glanced up at the face of his dying father. "I can't leave you like this…"

With great effort, Satoru put his hand atop the boy's head, ruffling the soft white hair weakly. Finally, a smile broke through despite the pain still clear in those teal depths. The smile was enough for him.

"Goodbye, Shiro." The hand fell from his head but Toshiro quickly grabbed onto it. Blue-green eyes turned skyward. "Forgive me, Miyuki."

"Mi…yuki?" Toshiro blinked, confused. He had never heard that name before.

The thought was cast aside as the hand in his grasp went limp. Panic rose and his power flared with it, alerting Ruala outside that something had happened. She was quick to re-enter and come to the prince's side, though she paused before reaching him as she saw the lifeless body now before her.

"No…wait." The boy's voice became higher pitched with fear, his grip tightening on the limp hand. "You can't…you can't be gone…"

As if hoping to find something he concentrated on the man's Spiritual Pressure, searching out its source and hoping to still feel the soft light he'd come to know as his father's.

There was nothing. A choking sob escaped his throat as reality hit him like a Cero.

"He's…he's gone…" Toshiro spoke in a whimpering tone, heart heavy with grief. He fell to his knees beside the bed, watching the light fade from the mark on Satoru's hand, turning it black. If the blankness of his eyes and the limp hand hadn't been enough, the loss of color hammered it home that the former Soul King was gone forever, the transfer was complete.

The mark flared to signal his new promotion to Soul King, something that normally would be celebrated, something he should have been proud of. This was ignored in favor of grieving and depression, still trying to process the death of a loved one. He knew it was coming; he had been trying to prepare for it for days. He distanced himself only to be dragged right back, not wanting for one minute to stray from his father's side when he was needed most. And now the dagger dug deep, ripping a hole in his heart he knew he could never replace, right over the other wounds received from past experiences.

He supposed he was meant to do something now. Should he leave now and let the people know the title had been shifted to another? Should he remain secret for now to grieve in peace? Lost, he looked to Ruala for help, noticing the crystal tears in her eyes that mirrored his own streaming down his cheeks. The tiny feline said nothing, head low, ears drooping. A disadvantage to being the person most trusted by the king was that they were hit nearly as hard as the prince himself with his loss.

Ruala did not judge him, did not say anything. She simply opened her arms to him, to say she would be there, to guide, to comfort. To trust. There was no pressure from her to get over it quickly and move on. So, he accepted her embrace, as one would accept help from a sister. His first action as Soul King was not to stand proud or hide away.

It was to cry.

...just gonna...corner...yeah...i'll be back later...enjoy...