Chapter Text
The screech of metal against the wall hurt his ears, sound getting louder, closer, and he held his breath, bringing his knees closer to his chest. Ichigo had left his bedroom to hide in Juno's, under her bed—she wasn't there—faced away from the door so he could try to run—like last time—and kept his eyes peeled on the door.
Closer...Almost...
The ear-piercing screeching finally halted, and so did He. Right in front of the door, Ichigo knew it. Just like he knew He had to have known all along but was taking his time, kicking open each and every door he came across—he counted—knowing Ichigo knew.
The door swung open.
Ichigo didn't breathe.
He walked in, and Ichigo felt time stretching into infinity, watching sock and sandal-clad feet getting closer. Sword trailing behind Him, dragged across carpet-clad floor.
Ichigo didn't move, even when He circled around the bed, not bothering to check underneath, his steps almost making no sound.
Numb and unfeeling, his eyes dragged along with the sword to his right, coming into sight soon enough. He knelt down, and Ichigo could feel Him place a hand on the bed for support, before his smiling face came to view.
"Found you."
—•—
He carried him to the library, Ichigo's favorite room after his own, not because of a love of books but because of the window that gave a view of the night sky that Ichigo particularly liked.
Both his hands were holding him up, and Ichigo's legs had already come up to encircle his waist for added security, and his chin was placed on the other's shoulder. The sword was tucked away in it's sheath, and the handle bumped against his thigh as the other walked on.
He made his way over to the window, and sat down on the sofa, back to the arm so that his long legs stretched out over the cushions, leaving him sitting on his lap.
Ichigo's forehead had settled on the other's collarbone, and his companion's chin rested on his head, but he could tell even without the contact, that the other's eyes were on the star splattered sky. Ichigo's head didn't leave his resting place, but he moved his head to observe as well.
The third time.
The daze enshrouding his senses and the fog in his mind lifted, like a blanket, and Ichigo finally uttered, "Why?"
Black-yellow eyes looked at him, and as if obeying a silent request, Ichigo raised his eyes to meet His.
"You tell me, King."
—•—•—•—
The police found a family of four brutally murdered and their bodies cut up from a long blade, with only one sole survivor—the son, adopted, covering in fear and in shock under his sister's bed. No forced sign of entry, supposedly not a burglary attempt gone wrong. The orange-haired boy couldn't give them anything, didn't speak for a month, and ultimately revealed nothing after breaking the silence.
According to police reports, it was the second time the boy Ichigo, currently Ichigo Takashi, had faced a murder. Both murderers were still on the loose.