[ Let’s just say that Yagen’s been judging the anatomical inconsistencies in those lewd poems for quite some time now. In private, of course. ]

Wha—Ichi-nii?!

[ Taken aback, Yagen freezes up at that glare, seeing the sorrow behind it and feeling very, very awful about it all of a sudden. Yet he stands there uselessly, mouth agape as Ichigo finally vents his frustrations and then it’s the tears—it’s the fucking tears—that get him to relent.

He quickly throws his arms about his brother’s neck, now that it’s conveniently within reach, his hand still clinging tight to that sparkler he’d been given. ]

I’m sorry…

[ What else can he say? He’s never been terribly good with words. Words and feelings, even. After all, he’d felt neither love nor hate for his final and most infamous master. But for his brothers, for Ichi-nii…there is no describing that very real and very human in his chest—one which defies medical knowledge, if only because this knowledge cannot tell him the shape and breadth of love. ]

I’m sorry; please don’t cry, Ichi-nii. I…more than anyone else, I only wanted to see you smile…