“I want to hate you all,” Ishida went on, dragging the words out like barbed wire. “You killed all of my people, and my grandfather still wanted to help you, and you let him die….”
Silence. But warmer now. Had Kurosaki moved to block the wind? Typical. If he froze, it was his own fault.
“But you… you kept fighting the Hollows, when it wasn’t even your war. And Rukia – she had to know what the law would do to her. But she helped you anyway, because she believed Hollows should never destroy any more lives. And Renji, Yoruichi-san, Ukitake-taichou, who protected ryoka even from the captains because it was the right thing to do….” Uryuu slumped against warm black silk. “I want to hate you, so much.”
“I hate Grand Fisher,” Ichigo said quietly. “He killed my mother. Tried to kill my sisters, and me. I won’t sleep easy until that bastard’s been pulverized and sent back to hell.” He took a deep breath. “But I don’t hate all Hollows that way. Not after I had to deal with Orihime’s brother. They’re monsters. They’ve got to be stopped. But – not all of ’em asked for it.”
Ishida blinked water off his eyelashes. That wasn’t just the wind stopping. It was warmer. Just a little.
“So hate Kurotsuchi,” Ichigo went on. “Hate Yamamoto-Genryuusai, and the Council of 46; they gave the order, and he for damn sure carried it out. Hate all of Seireitei if you have to. But Rukia? Renji? Hanatarou? They weren’t even konsou’d when the massacre happened. Hell, for all we know, they could’ve been Quincys before a shinigami got to ’em. Did you think of that, wise guy?”