"I'm sorry… I couldn't avenge you…"
Under the pouring rain, Ichigo Kurosaki stood before his mother's gravestone.
"Mom…"
"Hey—" Isshin Kurosaki walked over with an umbrella. "Seriously? I thought you'd already left. Didn't expect you to still be here." He tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Here. Take it."
"No."
Ichigo Kurosaki refused, only to have the tip of the umbrella jab him on the head.
"You're already soaked…"
Another poke.
"What's the point of an umbrella now…"
Another poke.
"Whatever…"
Another poke.
Ichigo Kurosaki finally snapped, grabbing the umbrella and swinging it at his overly handsy dad.
The Kurosaki household was, as always, a picture of fatherly affection and filial devotion.
"Time really does fly…" Isshin Kurosaki said with satisfaction as he watched his son finally raise the umbrella. His gaze returned to his wife's gravestone. "Your mom's been gone ten years already…"
Ichigo Kurosaki turned to look at him.
"It's been six."
Isshin Kurosaki: "…"
"…What a shame."
"What do you mean, 'what a shame'?! That's four whole years off! Four years is enough for an elementary school kid to make it to high school!" Ichigo Kurosaki snapped.
"You've got quite a way with words," Isshin Kurosaki said, looking genuinely impressed.
"That's surprising."
"What are you getting sentimental about?!" Ichigo Kurosaki bristled. "You can't even remember how many years it's been since your own wife died… Just hearing you talk pisses me off!"
"Well…" Isshin Kurosaki sighed lightly. "Seeing you this lively… your mom would be relieved, watching from above."
Ichigo Kurosaki's gaze wavered.
Would she really?
No.
She wouldn't.
Because Mom's soul had already…
Ichigo Kurosaki noticed the smoke curling up from Isshin Kurosaki's fingertips.
"Didn't you quit smoking? Back when Yuzu and Karin were born."
"She complimented me once," Isshin Kurosaki said with a chuckle, scratching his head.
"Early on, when we were dating. Said I looked cool holding a cigarette. Thinking back… that might've been the only time your mom ever praised my looks."
He bent slightly, his eyes passing beyond the gravestone, as if looking into the distant past.
"So I only smoke once a year. On this day. Right here, in front of her grave."
Ichigo Kurosaki stared at the gravestone, his eyes, like the rest of him, completely swallowed by the rain.
"Don't keep that stiff face on!" Isshin Kurosaki slapped him hard on the back. "I keep telling you to pull yourself together!"
"Why…" Ichigo Kurosaki clenched his fists. "Why can you still smile like that… Why does no one blame me…"
"I couldn't do anything… I couldn't do anything at all… When Mom died… and just now…"
Rain flooded into Ichigo Kurosaki's eyes and spilled back out.
"Why?! None of you blame me! That just makes it hurt more! Why won't you yell at me instead?! That would at least make me feel better… Why…"
Isshin Kurosaki blinked, confused.
"Why would we blame you?"
"…Huh?"
"If we blamed you for Masaki's death, she'd be the first one to chew me out," Isshin Kurosaki said with a smile. "Her death was never your fault."
"In fact," he continued softly, "the woman I loved gave her life to protect her child."
He pointed at Ichigo Kurosaki with the fingers holding his cigarette, his eyes gentle.
"The woman I loved traded her own life to bring you back."
"Dad…"
Ichigo Kurosaki looked at him, and suddenly felt that his Mom had been right all along.
The way he held that cigarette really was cool.
Isshin Kurosaki drove a knee straight into Ichigo Kurosaki's waist.
"Ow! What the hell—!"
"Oh, come on," Isshin Kurosaki snorted. "You really are a hateable little brat."
"Live properly, Ichigo. Live well. Grow up. Slowly go bald. Outlive me." Isshin Kurosaki turned his back and started walking away. "And after that, if you can, die with a smile."
"Otherwise… how would I have the nerve to face Masaki?"
"Stop hesitating," Isshin Kurosaki said, taking one last drag before crushing the cigarette out. "For someone like you right now, it's still too early to carry that kind of sorrow."
"I'll be waiting for you down the mountain."
Ichigo Kurosaki withdrew his gaze from his father's retreating figure and turned back toward his mother's gravestone.
Live… well.
The rain gradually tapered off. Suddenly, Ichigo Kurosaki heard a strange sound and turned toward it, but all he saw were branches swaying in the wind.
Just now, that sound was…
Frowning, he turned back to the gravestone. At some point, a bouquet of flowers had appeared there.
When did this get here?
Ichigo Kurosaki jolted, reaching out to pick up the bouquet.
Nestled among the flowers was a cross-shaped pendant.
There was also a photograph.
In the photo, his short-haired mother was smiling brightly. On her right wrist hung a cross-shaped pendant identical to the one in his hand.
Beside the swaying branches, in a place Ichigo Kurosaki believed to be empty, a gaunt man adjusted his glasses, watching as Ichigo put on the pendant. After casting one final glance toward the gravestone, he turned and disappeared into the darkness.
...
"Aaaaaaah!"
Inside a white, cavernous pit, shrill screams echoed amid splashing blood.
"Waaaaaaaah!"
Grand Fisher was nailed to the ground. Around him, several humanoid creatures with cracked, broken masks writhed, their grotesque limbs moving as they remodeled his body.
"Stop screaming," one of them warned with clear disgust. "Or I'll tear you apart right now."
"Seriously," another complained. "We taught you so much about Shinigami, and you still ended up beaten like this."
"That's right," a voice from outside the pit added coolly. "You should know this isn't the time for official action yet. If there's a next time, I won't clean up your mess."
"S-sorry…"
The mask on Grand's head was ripped away violently. He staggered to his feet. His once monstrous body now took on a human shape, the mask on his face reduced to a fragment clinging to his jaw.
"I won't make the same mistake again."
Grand Fisher rolled his shoulders, his eyes burning with malice.
"Just you wait… Muten Natsu."
"You say…"
A voice tinged with amusement echoed through the darkness.
"You've seen Muten Natsu?"
"S–Szayelaporro-sama…"
All of Grand Fisher's earlier arrogance vanished instantly, replaced by rigid respect.
"Yes… that's correct."
"Then tell me more about him."
The man hidden in the shadows was tall and slender. Behind an eyeglass-shaped mask, his golden eyes gleamed with excitement.
"It's been such a long, long time since we last parted," he murmured with a soft laugh. "If he saw me like this now, he'd be absolutely shocked, wouldn't he?"