The rain. He had always disliked it before now, but what he felt at this moment was beyond that. Strange, why would that be? Wasn't that what Zangetsu always said to him?
Wait. Something wasn't right. That name that he spoke in his thoughts, it had resonated within his own being in a way he had never felt before. He felt as if...but that couldn't be. That simply wasn't possible. But then again, who was he to decide what was impossible and what wasn't?
"Release the spell, hurry!"
"That voice," he said, his black hair flowing in the wind, "seems rather nostalgic." Turning his head to look at the view on his right, he continued talking to himself as one hand reached out to touch the black bandages on his face, "Feels nostalgic too. Almost like a dream long forgotten being dreamt once more."
"I'm sorry. I just..."
A thunderclap roared in the sky above, causing the windows around him to reverberate. "Powerlessness, not a good feeling, is it, Ichigo?" he asked as his form began to waver. First, between that of a Vastro Lorde, then that of Yhwach, and that of the form he had used to defeat Aizen in a time so long ago. His identity was becoming distinct, he could tell that now. He was becoming a part of his own past self's soul.
"I see. I'm Ichigo Kurosaki."
"Yes," he said, his form once more settling on that of his final getsuga, "it's time to stand up, Ichigo!"
Then, with a sudden burst of wind, a zanpakutoh, larger than a mountian, swung down from the heavens and cleaved itself within the structure of one of the skyscrapers. A single snowflake fell from the hilt of the blade; when it landed on the ground, the form of a beautiful woman, clad in all white, strode forth into the mindscape.
"I did not expect for there to be anyone in here," she stated matter-of-factly, "just who are you?"
"I am the power that dwells quietly in this boy, to be used should he ever become Shinigami," he replied.
"I am Zangetsu."