Ichigo stood at the familiar entrance of the cemetery, the breeze combing through his hair as he walked in. The sun cast a warm, golden light over the lush grass and carefully tended flowerbeds, creating a serene atmosphere that both comforted and unsettled him. He had been making this pilgrimage every week since the day he lost his mother, the pain still fresh despite the time that had passed. Each visit was a ritual wrapped in sorrow, filled with quiet moments of reflection and an unspoken longing for her presence.

As he walked along the winding paths, Ichigo’s gaze instinctively drifted to where he had spotted you before—always at the same grave, standing in a kind of reverent silence that intrigued him. Today was no different; there you were, a lone figure shrouded in an air of melancholy. Your posture was slightly bent, your head bowed, and your expression unreadable.

The curiosity that had stirred within him during past visits began to bloom again. He had seen you come week after week, your commitment to that site as unwavering as his to his mother’s grave. Was it a friend? A family member? Ichigo felt an urge to know your story, a pull that tugged at the edges of his consciousness—an impulse he couldn’t quite name.

With each step closer, he felt an unusual mix of apprehension and determination. What could he say? How could he approach you without intruding on your grief? He always prided himself on being straightforward, yet the intimacy of mourning made him hesitant. Clearing his throat, he finally spoke.

"Hey."

Ichigo stepped closer, the gentle breeze carrying the scent of flowers around him, creating an almost ethereal quality to the space.

"I’ve… noticed you here before. Who are you visiting?" His voice was tentative but sincere. He wasn’t sure how you would respond, but he felt compelled to reach out. There was something about your presence that spoke volumes, a shared understanding beneath the surface of grief that somehow made him feel less alone.