Remembrance of the Tired: KHR x Bleach

Chapter 1: Ichigo & The Start of The End

We haven't abandoned our other story, but this one kept bugging us, so... We don't own Bleach or Katekyo Hitman Reborn. More importantly, we hope you enjoy this story!

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Ichigo's tired.

He's tired in a way that he hasn't felt in a while. Back when the loss of his mom was still new and he couldn't grieve properly because he had to take care of himself, the house, his sisters.

But he wasn't allowed to cry, wasn't allowed to rest, wasn't allowed to just be a nine-year-old child, one who just saw their mother brutally murdered before their very eyes.

No, he had to straighten his back from where his tiredness caused them to slump. He had to swallow his guilt when he put his sisters to bed, wiping their tears, and comforting them as best as he could. He'd shoot glances at the closed door of the clinic where his dad was holed up in, having never realized that a door could look so dark and hollow.

So, he shoved away his want to curl up in some dark corner and whine for a comforting hand that would never come. Never again.

First protector.

Eventually the weight was familiar, eventually he didn't notice the burden placed on his too small shoulders.

He'd take his sisters to and from school. Make them breakfast, pack their lunch, prepare dinner. He'd wake his sisters up for school, help them get ready, help them with their homework, deal with their teachers. He'd forget about his own schooling, just focused on the twins.

They were his. His to protect. His to teach, love, guide. It sparked something in his chest that had been so cold before.

He'd ask the twins about their day, learn about their classmates, and memorized every word they said. He'd take them to hang out with their friends and dealt with the pitying eyes coming from all sides with a scowl. The gentle pats on his head, the empty condolences, the talking behind his back like he couldn't hear, couldn't understand.

In the end, he learned how to deal with it too. He'd always been a fast learner.

He's still tired.

Tired in the way he knows he shouldn't be and yet it settles on him like it never left. Back when he laid sprawled out on the floor, cheek smarting from the unexpected punch from his dad. A first, but not the last.

He remembered the burning feeling in his eyes, the fear in his sisters, and the nonchalance in his dad as he laughed it off. "Going to have to get better than that, Ichigo," he stated, a certain edge in his voice.

It had been nearly two weeks. Two weeks that he'd been MIA and that's how he greets them, him.

He swallowed his hurt. He thought that... well it didn't matter what he thought. All he knew was that the slump in his shoulders was at war with the way the warmth inside him wanted to lash out.

First protector.

He got use to the hits, the attacks, being always on guard. He got used to the feeling of what he once considered his home no longer being safe, the resignation lining his bones, the knowledge that he was at fault. Always at fault.

His dad was called Bastard from then on, in the safety of his mind.

But that didn't stop him from ensuring his sisters were never harmed. He made sure they stayed out of the way. Made certain to calm them down and to act like nothing was wrong. Everything was wrong, so wrong.

His sisters were smart though and they learned from him.

Where he subtly manipulated the Bastard to focus on him, that when anything went wrong in the house, like the Bastard tripping over one of Yuzu's toys, his frustration would be on Ichigo and Ichigo alone.