A Letter To Tite Kubo: What Ichigo Taught A Directionless Kid In India.

Dear Kubo Sensei,

I was in my late teens, around sixteen or seventeen, when I first discovered Bleach, almost 16 years ago. I was reading Naruto at the time when I came across an ad on a piracy website that, for some reason, featured Ichigo standing in a pose with his huge-ass zanpakuto. I had no idea that a random banner ad was about to become one of the most important companions of my life. It intrigued me, so I searched for it and started watching.

Back then, there was no way to watch Bleach or directly in India. I had two options: visit piracy sites and risk my laptop being attacked by viruses, or watch it on YouTube, where each episode was uploaded in parts and occupied only a tiny portion of the screen, while the rest was filled with a static image or some random video playing in the background.

I squinted at that sliver of screen like it was a treasure. Later, when YouTube started banning such videos, piracy became the only option. Once I had caught up with the anime and could no longer wait for new episodes, I started reading the manga on pirated websites as well. I simply could not stay away from your world.

Over the years, two of my laptops were spammed with viruses and had to be rebooted several times because of my love for anime and manga, especially the Big Three. My brother also beat me up over it, but it was worth it. It was always worth it. To me, Ichigo was never just an anime character. He was an inspiration to keep moving forward, even on the days when I did not know where forward was.

That doesn’t mean I still sail the seas, we have proper channels and streaming giants like Crunchyroll, Netflix and Hotstar who make it easier for us to watch anime now.

Back then, I would listen to my friends say things like “I wanna do this” or “I wanna do that,” so sure of themselves, while I sat there confused about what to do with my life. I felt like the only one without a map. Then Ichigo taught me that simply doing your duty towards your family with dedication, and going to any and all lengths to do what’s best for them, is enough.

I did not need an elaborate goal in life to be happy or to bring happiness to my family. His steadfast nature, his love and dedication to his family, and his protective instincts felt so relatable that it almost hurt. For the first time, I felt that someone understood me and that I was not broken for being directionless.

It was not just Ichigo, either. Orihime, the love of his life, also taught me a thing or two about love while I was falling in love myself. She showed me what it means to love someone selflessly, without keeping score and without asking for anything in return.

I even used her “five births” dialogue to impress my girlfriend at the time. Luckily for me, she was not an anime fan back then, or she would have given me an earful for plagiarising Orihime. But the feeling behind those words was real, and I learned it from you.

Bleach was there not only in my happy moments but also in my tough ones. During my engineering days, I had a major fallout with my friends and family, and I felt incredibly alone. It was the kind of loneliness that sits on your chest at night.

At the same time, Ichigo was dealing with issues with our uncle Tsukishima, and it truly felt like I had someone beside me who knew how it felt to be alone. He did not fix anything for me, but he sat with me in the dark, and sometimes that is the only thing a person needs.

But the main thing Ichigo taught me was to stand on business when it comes to family. He never ran away from his responsibilities towards them, and he never faltered. I still try to imitate that in my life today, though being human means that I do falter, unlike Ichigo. Every time I do, I think of him and try to get back up. That is the best I can do, and I hope it is enough.

That is why, even now, my gaming name in various gaming cafés in Mumbai is still Ichigo. I don’t know how many of them are still running, but that name stayed with me. I was teased for keeping a Japanese name as my gaming name, especially since “Ichigo” can easily be turned into “Aai cha Gho” in Marathi, my mother tongue, which is basically a bad word.

Yet I kept it, because crumbling under immense pressure is not something Ichigo taught me, even if it meant being an outcast among my friends. Back then, people who watched anime were considered weird and childish, and some still think so today. It stung to be laughed at for something that meant so much to me, but I would rather be an outcast with Ichigo than fit in without him.

A few years later, I cried in front of the girl I liked. Why? Because I had just finished reading the final chapter of the Bleach manga, and the realisation hit me that from then on, Thursdays would never be the same without Ichigo, and that I would be lonely once again. In a time when a man showing his emotions is looked upon as a sin, I did exactly that, and I could not control it.

I did not even try to. I had watched Ichigo cry in front of his father and in front of Rukia, without shame and without hiding it, and you showed me through him that those tears do not make a man weak. They make him real. So when mine came, I let them fall in front of her, and for once I was not afraid of being seen. A part of my life was ending, and the tears came on their own.

That is also why I took part in online forums to discuss Bleach and Ichigo. I could not let go, so I found others who could not either. I would defend him, and you, Kubo Sensei, for having the best art style among the Big Three, and for creating a character like Ichigo, who gave directionless people like me an anchor to remember what is important and what to do when. I was also part of that massive community who raised their voice online and demanded the return of Bleach anime and had to wait more than half a decade to see our demands being delivered.

And today, as I watched the final episode of the anime on Hotstar, all these feelings and moments of my life came rushing back to me. I am going through a time in life when life does what it does best: breaking a person from the inside, slowly, piece by piece. And yet, I feel no despair. Once again, you taught me through the anime that despair can only be trampled by the brave. Just like Ichigo, Orihime, Sado, Rukia, Renji, and everyone else, I need to be brave.

You may never know how many lost kids found their footing because of an orange-haired boy you drew. I am one of them. For all of this, I want to thank you, Kubo Sensei, from the bottom of my heart.

Even if we have no form, our steps will not stop.