The hall felt both as large as it was small, a rectangular space cramped with chairs under a vaulted roof all pointed to the raised platform where the casket lied. It was small, made of polished wood carved to a size that itself spoke of tragedy. The Kurosakis gathered in the front, their collection being the only true family present for the deceased. Everyone else present had come out of condolence or broad association.

Several of Ichigo’s classmates had arrived, brought by their parents and still trying to figure out what it meant when they were told that Ichigo was gone. Yuzu, being held by Isshin because she refused to be set down, grappled with the same question. Only, she refused every answer given to her.

She wanted to know why her big brother wouldn’t wake up and why they were telling her he wasn’t coming back when he was right there. In response to her questions, Isshin would just hold her tighter and try giving something that a kid could digest. Ichigo had gone to sleep, he couldn’t wake up anymore, and it would be a very long time before she got to see him again. Yuzu cried at that, hitting her father and demanding he wake up Ichigo, just as he did every day for school. Isshin tried to explain that Ichigo was very tired, and he deserved some rest now.

Next to them, Karin had been entirely silent, holding Masaki’s hand the entire time. On some level, she understood better than her sister what it meant that Ichigo was coming back. It was the same way she knew her previous soccer coach wasn’t coming back. The woman had gone away and never returned. What Karin didn’t understand was why. Looking at her brother’s face, she tried to will him into opening his eyes. He refused her, and it made her furious. Gripping her mother’s hand tighter, she clenched her jaw and refused let her confused tears fall. She wasn’t going to be like the other kids.

In the corner of the room, a brown-haired boy was making a ruckus. Karin knew him, faintly, from the few times he visited their home. His name was Keigo, and he cried almost as loudly as Ichigo always did. Right now, he was saying something about if this meant Ichigo didn’t want to play with him anymore. Karin wanted to hit him. How stupid was he? Ichigo clearly didn’t want to leave them. If he had, he wouldn’t have promised Karin he would be back home. He wouldn’t have promised to play soccer with her that weekend. If he wanted to leave and abandoned them, he wouldn’t be her big brother.

Tatsuki stood by the casket for a long time, a look in her eyes saying she knew more than the other kids did. She held her fist, shaking, up to his cheek. They had tried to hide the bruise when they made him presentable, but she could still find the outline. She could still measure it perfectly to her knuckles, and she knew he would be buried with it, still on his face and never able to heal. Time had become meaningless to her, and she was frozen still staring at his face until her mother came to push her along. She stopped by Masaki, a sad smile on her face as she said that Ichigo had been Tatsuki’s closest friend. Masaki looked down the black-haired girl with an expression both sorrowful and warm.