Hello everyone, I'm back! I finally finished my novel and am taking a little bit of a break from everything for summer, so here is my newest fic! I hope you enjoy it and support it. However, I won't be able to update too hastily but I will try my best.
Chapter One
He Who Changed the World
There was a colossal explosion. Trees rippled, the water in the still lakes splashed and frothed and threw itself across the rocks that lined the pools. From the ground, it looked like a thunderstorm was brewing, the clouds had darkened with the night sky and the lights of Karakura Town hummed gently in the distance, giving off a warming aura of silky blue to mix with the deep blackness. Again, another explosion shot through the darkness. This time though, lights followed it, like bursts of lightning streaking behind a clap of thunder. One was a brilliantly lime green, twisting and turning in the wind, while the other was a jet of blood red, darting sharply through the clouds.
Then came the blast. A shot of pink light tore through the air, illuminating the ground below it. On the dusty, gravel ground far below, a young woman with cropped black hair covered her eyes, her gloved hands gilded with a sinister red glow as the light ebbed away in the air. It felt as though the air around them had been sucked out, a stillness holding their throats. She looked up weakly, her purple eyes sparkling in the moonlight. There was a cry and a splattering sound, like rain when the two lights clashed and bolted downwards at a ferocious speed. The young woman reached out, only to have an arm wrap around her and fling her to the ground.
"Move, you idiot!" She heard someone cry as the two lights hit the floor, chunks of stone and earth breaking up around them. She was not listening however, her hair splayed across her face as she caught sight of him at last, hunched over, his fiery orange hair shining, his face obscured. In the boy's hand, a lengthy, toothed black katana. His opponent, a gnarled man in a skeletal outfit, rose red collars of fur billowing about his snarling face. Clutching his weapon, an enormous, bone like claymore, he screamed. The orange haired boy shot out, stabbing forwards with an immense speed, severing the blade in two.
There was a stifled cry and with a thud, the skeletal, white haired man had hit the floor, his face in the mud, his arms lying still. As the boy garbed in black tendrils stood to his full height, he was assaulted wildly from behind, a lanky, thin man in black suspenders lunging at him, his eyes wide with madness. There was a stunning display of light and a messy confusion where no one knew what happened. The black haired woman stood in between the fighters, slumped and unconscious in the arms of the orange haired boy.
"You idiot!" Barked a young, pink haired girl, wincing, biting her lip as the lanky man's blade cut into her shoulder, the warm blood dribbling down her chest. "Ginjou may have saved us, but we couldn't save him! Don't you understand?" She shrieked in the night air, the orange haired boy looking up in disbelief.
"The one who saved Ginjou...was Ichigo!"
The river was still today. The sun beat down on the three people walking side by side, and, regardless of the weather, there was a dark presence lurking amongst them. At the front, young and proud, walked Karin Kurosaki, her raven black hair pulled up, letting her bangs hang down around her solemn face. Beside her, Yuzu, her twin sister. Her blonde hair was let down, resting neatly on her shoulders and held in place by a dainty strawberry hair pin. In between them, their brother trudged with his hands in his pockets, towering over the girls.
Even though the sun was raining down upon them, he still wore a purple jacket with the collar upturned, a jagged yellow line zipping across the back of it. He cupped his hand over his brown eyes, shading himself as he felt the warmth of the summer's day rustle his orange hair. His name was Ichigo Kurosaki. He was seventeen years old and today was the anniversary of the death of their mother, Masaki. It was family tradition to visit her grave, the stone standing proudly amongst the other dead. Although the young girls looked anxiously around for their father, Isshin, Ichigo knew the man had already visited in the early hours of the morning. He scoffed. The goofball couldn't even be here today.
However today, there was another grave Ichigo would visit once the girls had gone home. As they paid their respects, Karin and Yuzu left Ichigo to stand by himself, the boy staring down at his mother's name etched eternally onto the leaning stone. She had a nice grave, he thought to himself, it was worthy of her. He began to tell her how much he had grown over the past few years. Although Karin knew of his Shinigami self, he dared not speak of it that often in front of the family. It was fairly common knowledge these days, but still, Ichigo found himself most comfortable in the presence of the deceased. There were no spirits around. No Hollows either, which was a good thing, though he made a mental note of the fact there had not been any Hollows for quite some time.
Smirking, he wondered if maybe Kurumadani was finally pulling his weight. It was his first time visiting her since the last incident, so he sat down and crossed his legs before regaling his mother with the tale of the lost agent. As the cool breeze blew the flowers they had laid for her, he took it as a sign that she was interested. A smile wrinkled his lips and he looked up into the ocean blue sky. It was a nice day, this time. After a few more minutes he checked his watch and grumbled. Ichigo clambered to his feet groggily, preparing himself to visit the grave of Ginjou Kugo. After all, it was by his doing that Ginjou, the ruthless, crazed former Substitute Shinigami had even been allowed a proper burial.
The boy sauntered about the graveyard before turning a corner to where he knew the man lay in rest. He was shocked though to find someone else already standing over the grave. It was no one he recognised, none of the former members of Xcution, the motley band Ginjou used to run. The figure was a very tall and broad shouldered man dressed completely in a strapping white suit, with flowing black hair that dropped down his back. Ichigo decided to approach him and he stood beside, the two of them staring quietly down at the memorial.
There was silence for a moment. Ichigo took a second to glance at the man towering beside him. He was enormous, in stature as well as the colossal feeling of authority he gave off. Ichigo could not quite tell if he was a spirit or not. The man was beardless, but he had sharp cheekbones and a weary face, his eyes sagging slightly and he looked as if he was tired. His long, spidery black hair was shaggy and messy, almost like a mane. He had the remnants of a moustache reaching from the sides of his face to beneath his crooked nose and his large lips were turned up in a slightly wry grin. His hands were wedged in his pockets.
"It surprises me," he said at last and Ichigo nearly jumped. The man's voice was extremely deep and powerful, almost a baritone sound. Yet, at the same time, the undertone was gravelly and coarse, rough and unkempt, a little like his appearance. Tilting his head, he shot Ichigo a look. "It surprises me greatly that they would bury him, after all those crimes he committed," the man shook his head, sighing mournfully.
"Who would bury him?" Ichigo replied. The man made an astonished face before gazing over at the boy.
"Why, the Soul Society of course," the man said and Ichigo's eyes widened. So he was a spirit. "You...do know of the Soul Society, right? You're Ichigo Kurosaki after all, aren't you?" Ichigo nodded in reply. The man seemed satisfied and returned to staring at the gravestone. "Yes, as I was saying, it strikes me as odd to think that the old haughty commander of yours would allow a criminal such as him to be buried. Has he gone soft?"
Ichigo remained silent, wondering just how much to say. His eyes were still running over this man, trying to gauge who he was. Nothing about him was familiar and so Ichigo decided to stick to saying little.
"Maybe, but maybe he's just learnt something. I think after all the ordeals the Soul Society has faced lately, a lot of people are rethinking themselves," Ichigo explained, the man nodding in agreement.
"Perhaps you are right. After all, Aizen Sosuke caused the Shinigami quite a bit of trouble didn't he? Yes, he was quite the troublemaker indeed. I didn't really like the way he went about things, war, war is no trivial matter. It is not something you just walk into, no. War should be avoided at all costs, wouldn't you agree?" The man asked, Ichigo inclining his head. The man smirked, happy with the response.
"I suppose you're too young to really know what war is," he said gruffly, "but you will do," Ichigo looked over nervously all of a sudden, a grim, ugly sneer spreading across the man's lips as he walked slowly away from the graveyard. The boy felt around for his Substitute badge, the item wedged in his trouser pocket. "I wouldn't bother transforming if I were you. Cherish your time here today."
"Who are you?" Ichigo barked, his voice faltering a little as his fingers wrapped around the badge.
"You say that people are rethinking themselves after the ordeal with Aizen, but you don't understand. You could never understand. It's not just the trouble with Aizen they need to consider. There's plenty more, much more in Soul Society's rank closet. Eventually you'll discover it all, whether you want to believe it or not. Funny...," the man cast a shadowy gaze back over his broad shoulder at Ginjou's grave. "I can think of far more uses for that Substitute now that he's a corpse," the man snickered nastily. Ichigo shook his head.
"Don't just walk away from me! I don't understand anything you're saying pal!" Ichigo snapped.
"There's plenty you have yet to understand. But don't worry, it's not just you. The Soul Society as well. There is much they have to learn from," with that, the man turned briskly on his shoes and made his exit, waving the boy off with a lame hand. Ichigo stood trembling, his knuckles whitening around the badge's edges before he took his palm away. Deciding quickly that he would not dwell on it, he returned to his mother's gravestone and plucked a flower from the grass verge beside it, laying it with care on the ridge of the headstone.
"I have a bad feeling about this...I'm mature enough now to know when something is going to go down...I just hope I can act in time to stop it," Ichigo thought to himself, closing his eyes as he removed his fingers from the cold, bleak stone, the limp flower dangling over his mother's name. "Love ya, Mum."
Honour of the StarCross