Funeral

Like everyone, I have a choice. Cry and be depressed for my lack of action or grow from this to prevent more suffering. It was definitely the most simple decision to pick the latter, but the guilt that I possessed made it difficult. No matter how much Dad reassured me, I couldn't help but imagine what his thoughts were.

The mind is a powerful weapon and it can be extremely destructive to oneself. When I met his gaze and he weakly smiled at me, my brain created thoughts of how Dad blamed me for Mom's death. It wasn't just him. Everyone at the funeral who gave me a short glance including my brother made me feel responsible. I was being crushed and I knew it.

Still, I didn't cry. I don't have that right.

When they brought her casket and I obtained a chance to see her one last time, I didn't take it. I wanted to remember my Mom by her shining smile, not her cold, lifeless body.

Once it was over, I realized what was going to be missing from my life. From now on, I won't eat her chicken noodle soup when I get sick. From now on, there won't be bedtime stories or humming to lull me to sleep. From now on, I won't have her unbelievable confidence that aided me through my school and football activities. From now on...I have to wake up to a cruel reality.

Arriving home, I didn't have an appetite, so I went to bed early. I read to myself for the first time and I kept going until fatigue caught up and forced me to sleep. Fortunately, it was a dreamless night, and I woke up the next day to a bright morning. Something that at present aggravates me more than anything. How can this world keep going? How can it just forget? I didn't understand it, and I resented it slightly.

As the first one up, I tend to help out Mom in the kitchen and that was why I decided to make breakfast today. I was grateful for my ability to power through anything no matter how horrible life was. This state, however, was fragile. Someone can insult me or hit me, and I would revert back to normal self.

I guess the smell woke up the members of the Kurosaki household and eventually, they all appeared at the dining table and took their respective spots. Yuzu and Karin copied what everyone else was doing which was just staying quiet. Even for Dad, he was unnaturally silent and seemed more focused than anything. Ichigo, on the other hand, looked like his soul was shattered.

"Good morning everyone." I broke the silence as the eyes were all on me minus Ichigo. "I uh, made something to eat. This is my first time cooking a complete meal for once so sorry if it's bad."

Dad made an effort to smile, but I spotted how strained it was. "Thanks, Sora."

"Thanks, Big Brother."

"Thanks, Bro."

"...thanks."

"No problem." I awkwardly laughed to wave off the gratitude. "Just leave the dishes in the sink when you are all done. I'll take care of it." I gained an appreciative nod from Dad.

As we were wordlessly eating, I decided to step on some toes. Figuratively of course.

"Ichigo." He looked at me. "This is going to be hard for you, but can you answer my questions?" His slight shifting in his seat spoke volumes of how uncomfortable he was.

Maybe he thought that I was going to ask about Mom.

"Perhaps you could talk later," suggested Isshin. "How about we just eat for now?"

I shook my head. "I have to confirm something. It's very important to me." He reluctantly nodded. "Ichigo." My eyes met his. "Can you see those...things?"

The one who surprisingly reacted was the adult in the room. "...what are you talking about Sora? What things?"

"Ghosts. Humans with chains on their chests. Have you ever seen them?"

"...yeah." Isshin winced.

"Me too." Ichigo's eyes widened in surprise. "How about the monsters? Have you seen them too?"

"Monsters?"

"Nevermind." I smiled. "Finish your food. Today is a Friday and we have to get to school soon. Can you get ready by yourself?" He nodded in response. "Okay. Dad. Can you come help?"

"All right."

It was a simple breakfast that consisted of scrambled eggs, pancakes, and shredded bacon with a glass of milk for us kids. It was more American than I would've liked, but it was what I could produce with the time we had and my current skills. The normal Japanese breakfast was a bit out of my league at the moment.

Watching everyone eat the first mouthful, I was staring at them to see any bad reactions. So far, they seemed satisfied and I felt the heart to take a bite of my own.

It was shocking.

The food...there was no taste to it.

I ate another spoonful of everything that was on my plate and the flavors were not there. Even the chocolate milk had no taste.

What happened to me?