"Aizen Sousuke, you are charged with treason against Soul Society and degradation of your office as a captain in the Gotei Thirteen!"

The newly chosen Central 46 stared bitterly as one at the sole man they held responsible for the Winter War and resulting upheaval in Seireitei.

Councilman 38 leaned over his side of the second level of circles that surrounded the lone prisoner.

Aizen glared back as best he could from his seat, bound to the chair that severed his spiritual pressure and crippled any remaining reiryoku he had left. "You judge me?"

The tone dripped with arrogance and only served to further ignite those judging him.

Several of the councilors grumbled irately, still wounded from the last attack – from the inside – on Soul Society.

"I would like to execute you many times over," Councilman 38 spat at the prisoner.

"You deserve your throne," another, Councilman 17, added as he leveled a loathing stare at the former captain of the Fifth Division. "That's the only throne you'll ever get."

"Spare me your drivel." Aizen wanted to laugh at them, but was in no position to provoke his sentence any longer. He'd yet to hear it; the Council insisted on yammering on about his broken trust issues. He looked around at the congregated council that sat in judgment of him. "All of you, you worms that squirm in the shadow of that thing. That Soul King. Have you no respect for yourselves?"

"Enough!" Councilman 41 bellowed. A slap of his hand to the rail before him resounded in the tall building. "No more!"

Aizen would have smiled had he the means to. "How does one bow to a worm such as that thing?"

A few shouts for his execution rang through the council.

"While Hell is not deep enough to contain you," Councilman 38 continued, "you will be remanded to Muken for the next eighteen-thousand years of your miserable immortal life!"

"So generous," Aizen couldn't resist. "You will all await my return?"

"Such mockery!" Councilman 26 shouted.

"It must seem like a long sentence to beings so inconsequential," Aizen said dryly, enjoying their fury. "And so very mortal."

"Twenty-thousand years!" Councilman 38 was livid. "Bind him again!"

The sentencing didn't quite reach the ears of the shinigami in Seireitei, but everyone knew it was taking place. The new members of the Central 46 hadn't suffered through the slaughter or treasonous treachery that the current shinigami had, but they were aware of the devastating results Aizen Sousuke had wrought on the shinigami body en masse.

The rush to election was necessary. Everyone wanted stability restored to the wounded psyches, the damaged morale, and the restless ranks in every division. Most afflicted was the Fifth Division, but the Ninth and Third Divisions had seen trials, too. No one forgot who had brought on the recent war, a war that surpassed the confrontation with the Quincies, as this one had grown from within Soul Society.

But across the collection of division buildings between the sentencing being handed deservedly to the Winter War's only surviving menace and the First Division's compound, three captains had just escaped an especially well-placed tongue-lashing.

"Now that was a waste of a good afternoon," Zaraki Kenpachi grumbled as he strode down the street, towering over his fellow lashees. "Coulda been doin' somethin' useful."

"You? Useful?" Kuchiki Byakuya spared him a brief glance. "Aside from brute strength, what other use could that possibly be?"

"Oh, I dunno," Kyouraku Shunsui drawled, scratching his neck where two days' growth of beard had escaped his attention. "I suppose he could get me a lead on a stylish eye-patch."

Zaraki gave a hearty chuckle that frightened a few of the frailer shinigami at the next intersection of streets. "Yeah? I'll have Madarame bring ya over a spare."

"Ken-chan!"

A pink blur zipped between the captains and landed on Zaraki's shoulder.

"You're back!" Yachiru chirped, leaning over his neck to see him. "Did you get into trouble? Did you rip him a new one? Did you –?"

Zaraki cleared his throat, which drowned out whatever else the small girl was saying.

Shunsui and Byakuya both lifted an inquiring eyebrow at the second question.

"The Old Man coulda been worse, you know," Shunsui said. "He could have made us agree to receive our captains' haori in public again, before our troops."

"Not me." Byakuya was ignoring Yachiru, who was eyeing him attentively. "My men would turn their backs in respect for me. No self-respecting shinigami wants to see their captain's weaker moments."

"Ken-chan doesn't have any weak ones, do you, Ken-chan?" Yachiru countered.

"'Course not." Zaraki dared either captain to argue the point.

Neither did.

Shunsui stopped walking and glanced back at the street behind them. Ukitake Juushirou and his two third-seated officers were hurrying to catch up. Shunsui sighed.

"I have another dressing-down to endure," he said, and then thinking of his own lieutenant, he added, "and another when I get back to my division." He grinned. "That one won't be so bad..."

Byakuya moved on. "I have a division to organize." His thoughts drifted a bit. "And an order to place to the Fourth Division."

"Get me one, too," Zaraki said.

"You can get your own haori." Byakuya moved off down the street to where his red-haired lieutenant was approaching to meet him.

Zaraki's eye narrowed on him. "But ya said you'd pay for our –"

"I said I'd pay for mine." Byakuya didn't turn around.

Shunsui shrugged when Zaraki looked to him. "Can't cost much," he said. "They're pretty basic..."

"Pulling double time as vice captain and standing-in as captain of Ninth Division is gonna wear you down," Ikkaku said as he and Hisagi left the informal lieutenants' meeting. He rubbed his bald dome, wishing he'd brought that silly knit hat with the bunny ears Yachiru had given him. The winter sun beat coldly on his scalp. "You can't do it all."

"Ah, I won't have to...forever," Hisagi said with a sigh, hoping he was right. "Once the squads can get back on level ground, things will go back to normal."

Ikkaku raised one eyebrow at him as they rejoined the busier Seireitei streets. "You think so?"

Hisagi's mind went to a few of his injured friends. Not all wounds were visible, but would take just as long or longer to heal than any flesh wound. "They have to. We can't keep going like this." He shrugged. "I'm going to stop by and see Hinamori-chan and Rangiku-san. She missed the meeting."

Ikkaku scowled at him. "Hey, give her a break, Shuuhei. She's battle-injured and probably not even conscious yet."

"I meant Rangiku-san. Hinamori-chan," Hisagi said with a thoughtful sigh, "she can just rest."

Ikkaku nodded and then caught a glimpse of a spot of pink across the next block of buildings. He knew who it was and what it meant. "Yeah, I'll catch you later then. I think Captain Zaraki's out of his meeting with the Captain-Commander."

Ikkaku parted Hisagi's company and took a street at the next intersection to join Zaraki a few streets away.

Hisagi decided the bald shinigami was in as good of spirits as he was going to get considering his loss at the fake Karakura Town. They'd all had losses, even among the winners.

He usually relished the opportunity to talk to Matsumoto Rangiku, especially ones that didn't include Kira Izuru and a bottle of saké, but this time he had a few reservations. The Winter War had changed nearly everyone in Soul Society and many in the material world. He wasn't quite sure what to make of some of those changes, and he didn't think Rangiku herself was quite certain what the future held.

He did know the War could have been worse. Much worse.

The deep toll of a bell pealed through the air, demanding the attention of every shinigami on the street. Across the buildings Hisagi could see a black banner rising from the foreboding-looking building that few had ever entered. It flapped in the cold air as it reached the top of the pole. He knew what it meant.

Central 46 had decided Aizen's sentencing.

When Ichigo opened his eyes, a strangely familiar sight welcomed him.

It took a moment for him to realize it was his bedroom.

As the recognition came, he sat up abruptly, a barrage of thoughts flooding his mind. He glanced from the empty doorway to the open window. His hand immediately went to his hair, his fingers brushing the ends. Why had it seemed like...?

Shoving the blankets back, he climbed out of bed and stepped into the hall. He pushed back the door to Karin and Yuzu's room and peered inside. No one. So he went downstairs, and, seeing no sign of the old man, he stepped outside, out into the crisp spring air.

The streetway before him was just as still and calm as his house. There wasn't even a spirit to be seen, he realized, after a moment of scanning the trees and the alleys.

Memories flooded back. Aizen. The Dangai. Isshin. Mugetsu. The Hougyoku, and Urahara, and the seal.

His powers – they were gone, weren't they?

Jamming his hands into his pockets, he gave an incredulous laugh as the surreal feeling that the discovery left sprouted through his veins. Aizen was done and over with. Soul Society was out of trouble. His friends were safe. And him, he was just a normal teenager again, wasn't he?

And wasn't that what he'd wanted all along?

After a few moments of enjoying the morning breeze, he turned to go back inside. He hadn't even bothered taking off his slippers, he noted, and thought about how Yuzu would've scolded him for it if she were home. She and Karin were probably at school right now. He wanted to see them again, to see how they were doing. How long had it been, anyway? How long since he'd lost consciousness after Aizen was sealed?

"Ichigo," a voice behind him called, making him stop in his tracks. He turned around to see Rukia standing further down the street, her arms crossed, head cocked to the side in that teasing way. "You're awake."

Wait... Why could he still see her?

Were his powers not gone?

Ichigo shoved off the immediate questions and shrugged, hands still in his pockets. "Yeah, so what'd I miss?"

"That's the first thing you say?" she muttered as she walked towards him, dropping her hands to her sides. "You'd have been better off waiting until the afternoon. Inoue-san will be crushed when she finds out."

He hesitated at the mention of Orihime. "Inoue," he mumbled, frowning. "Why'd she be upset?"

Rukia sighed and stood a few feet away from him, crossing her arms again. "Because she's been watching over you every waking moment, silly. And you go and wake up the only time she's not here, when she's at school? How selfish, Ichigo."

Ichigo scoffed and rubbed at the back of his neck. Orihime had been looking after him all that time? "So how long has it been, anyway?"

"Nearly a month."

He tried to hold back his surprise and instead only gave a vague nod. "That long, huh?"

She nodded too and asked, "How long have you been awake?"

"Just a couple of minutes."

"Oh." She paused a moment. "Well, I ask that because it won't take very long. For the last traces of your reiatsu to disappear, that is."

Her words caught him off guard. "So my power's gone after all?"

"It is," she said with a nod. "Your father told us all about it. You're still able to see shinigami right now, but it probably won't last for much longer."

"Oh." As hard as it was, Ichigo managed to work out a smile. "So I guess this is goodbye, huh?"

Rukia returned his strained smile. "Yup."

Ichigo opened his mouth to say more, but a flickering, glowing at Rukia's heels stopped the words from coming. A white light slowly, gradually moved up from her feet to her legs, and in its wake left nothing but thin air.

A few more seconds, huh? That was all he had left before she would disappear completely.

As if reading his mind, she piped up with a saucy, "Don't worry too much about it. I'll still be able to see you, you know."

He scowled. "That's just creepy."

She laughed. "I'll see you around, Ichigo."

"Right." He nodded as the glowing light reached her waist, creeping ever upwards. "See ya."

She dipped her head to him and he had to fight to keep the smile on his face.

"Thanks," he said, just as the light engulfed the last of her.

Then the white sparked into nothing, and he found himself alone in the street again.