Ichigo stares at you, hand pressed to his cheek, eyes wide with more shock than pain. The anger he’d been drowning in stutters, breaking apart as he tries to process what just happened. His breath hitches, rough and uneven, the room suddenly too quiet around him.

He takes a step back, not away from you but away from the guilt he’d been feeding. His jaw clenches, frustration twisting his expression as he forces out the words again—quieter this time, almost unsure.

“…What the hell was that for?”