Chapter Text
Ichigo’s dad Isshin had always been fond of the word ‘soulmate’ and had referred to Ichigo’s mother as it as interchangeably as “dear” or “honey” or “my love” or “my beloved” or any number or other such endearing names. Masaki’s death hadn’t stopped him, and he still directed those loving words at the ridiculously large photo he’d had printed for the family shrine.
Once when Ichigo’s family visited her grave, Ichigo had lagged behind Karin and Yuzu after they’d bid farewell to their mother. He found it so much . . . harder to say goodbye to his mum. He was already, only twelve and the girls were so much younger so bounded back better and it’d been two years since Masaki had died. (Been killed and it was his fault, no it wasn’t, but sometimes it still felt that way, no matter what the therapist and his dad had said).
Ichigo turned back for one final goodbye till next year to see his dad bowed over the tombstone. One hand gently curled over the top and the other pinching the bill of his cap. Ichigo saw his mouth move to say a word before he peeled his hand from the stone and pressed it to his lips, touching his fingers to the kana of her name in a brief kiss. Ichigo walked up behind his father and tucked his hand into his dad’s much larger one.
Isshin turned to his son in surprise and let Ichigo spur him back into observation with a tug from the little hand folded inside his.
“Hurry up or we won’t have time for dinner, old man!” shouted back Karin, clapping a hand to her mouth and not needing to turn to carry her voice.
Not wanting to make them worry about him, Ichigo jogged over and closed the distance before Yuzu looked around to check up on him and Isshin. He caught up and opened his hands to let his sisters place their even smaller ones within his.
Isshin smiled behind them, before racing after them and belting out a question about who was going to take daddy’s hand only for Karin to shoot him down.
Through his full-body crying about his daughter had abandoned him, Ichigo ruminated over how he could have sworn the thing his dad had said had been “soulmate”.
A year later, Ichigo lagged behind his sisters again and, this time, Isshin saw him press a kiss to his mum’s name; eyes gleaming, just after his dad and just before tucking his hand into his dad’s clenched fist again. Ichigo tugged at his dad and began leading him away seconds before Karin could call.
For years after, Ichigo would still wait for his dad to say “soulmate” before joining him to say goodbye.
Occasionally, one of Isshin’s patients would ask about the possibility of him re-marrying or dating. When Mrs. Higashi insisted he could date her granddaughter or any other suitable girl, Isshin turned back with a grin stretching his face and happily explained that he’d “already found my soulmate. I’ve had my happy ending and I’ll always have my kids. There’s nothing more I could want.”
Ichigo had slipped inside the door and been waiting to speak, but was stunned by his father’s words. Isshin saw him over Mrs. Higashi’s shoulders. “Aaah. Dinner time already, Ichigo? I’m afraid I’ll have to kick you out now,” he said, gently handing the prescription to the elderly lady.
“Thank you, doctor.” She put her hand over his cheek. “I understand perfectly. I would never exchange the time I had with my Mizuki for anything.” She grinned back. “I suppose we should leave that sort of thing to the next generation now, shouldn’t we?” she said, patting his cheek with her paper-wrinkly fingers.
Isshin took her hand in his and helped her to stand. “I feel the exact same way.”
She hmmphed agreeably, folding the crisp sheet up and stowing it away inside her purse.
“But that’s no excuse for you to skip your appointment in two weeks.”
“Ah, monkey faeces.”
Isshin snorted and let her shuffle out of the clinic still complaining with a wave. “Ichi?”
Ichigo woke from his stupor.
“Could you get the door for me?”
Ichigo flipped the sign over and locked the front door while dad packed some things away.
“Come on.” Isshin scooped Ichigo into his arms and headed upstairs. Ichigo was a lot taller than the last time his dad picked him up but if the man found it difficult he showed no sign of it, closing and locking the inner door behind him and breathing into his son’s hair as he walked. He stopped before they could reach the girls.
“It’s all right, Ichigo. I miss her too.”
The boy clutched onto his dad tighter.
“Go ahead and cry. It’s gonna be all right.”
Ichigo screwed his eyes shut, squeezing tears down his cheeks.
After a few minutes, Ichigo motioned to be let down and Isshin let him stand. His son was already pawing at his face and collecting his composure when Isshin reached out to wipe his cheeks.
His dad dropped a hand onto Ichigo’s head. “No rush, Ichi. Take your time.” The man bent down and kissed his son’s forehead. “I’m sure Mrs. Higashi won’t bring anything like that up again either,” he said, still peering into Ichigo’s shining eyes.
When Isshin had spoken to Mrs. Higashi with that sense of shared understanding earlier, Ichigo had thought his dad looked so much older in that moment.
(Like the years suddenly became visible, but not through any lines on his face. It was like a weight on his shoulders that wearied him but not in any way that he noticed. Ichigo noticed. When Isshin stood at his mum’s grave and somehow found the resolve to carry on. When old war vets came to Isshin for pain relief and to share their stories—”the pain they feel can’t be relieved just through meds, Ichigo. Soldiers need to talk too.”)
Ichigo didn’t want to be tucked into bed anymore, but after his dad passed by Karin and Yuzu’s room, he came to Ichigo’s room; the door left conspicuously open.
Ichigo was turned away, but didn’t resist the peck to his forehead.
Isshin pulled the duvet up to his chin and pressed it in at his sides, ruffling his son’s hair fondly and wishing him a “Good night, Ichigo.” He flicked the lights off, and let the door quietly click behind him as he left.
Ichigo fell asleep, the smell of phantom cigarette smoke wafting past his nose, tangling itself in incense and fresh flowers.