A/N: Warning - This was inspired by Bleach Chapters 541 and 542. Major Spoilers.
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, and never will.
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Force Majeure
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force ma·jeure -
noun \ˌfȯrs-mä-ˈzhər, -mə-\
Definition: 1) a superior or irresistible force; 2) an event or effect that cannot be reasonably anticipated or controlled – often compared to an Act of God; or 3) a legal clause in a contract between two parties which protects both from the intervention of acts of war, terrorism, or any other unpreventable event.
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"My name is not Zangetsu."
(Nameless, he had awoken to a silently raining world brimming with untapped power and limitless potential, and somehow he could always hear a child crying in the distance and felt a never-ending need to grow stronger)
"What I am is the manifestation of the quincy powers dwelling inside of you. I am Juha Bach and at the same time, I am not Juha Bach."
(Looking back through his own memories, he realized that he was the shadow of a quincy king, trapped inside a human boy, and eventually, he realized that he and the boy were the same. They were both searching for something just out of reach)
"I am not an enemy . . . I am not an ally . . ."
(Under the rain, he had watched his charge grow little by little and move forward without ever calling for help, yet always- always-lacking something . . . like a lost soul wandering through life)
"However, my wisdom and fortitude have never lead you astray . . ."
(That first contact with the shinigami - My name isn't shinigami; it's Rukia, Kuchiki Rukia! - he had felt his heart strum with fear. Quincy did not exist with shinigami. He would be denied from his charge, and he had seen the shinigami power brimming beneath the surface of his soul each day; he knew his charge more than any other, knew him like his own being – for they were one and the same, weren't they? - The boy wanted power and would call for it - the power to protect those in front of him - yet this shinigami power would consume him instantly; he – they weren't ready. So he gathered together his own scant quincy power, born from a mother's blood and a king's disposition, and moved forward. Perhaps . . . there was still time . . . time to teach.)
"My only deception has been telling you my name."
(It was not difficult – quincy and shinigami have always balanced each other out, like yin and yang. It was a struggle, but he buried that ocean of power, beneath sideways buildings with glimmering reflections and smoky mirrors. They would only show the boy the bare surface of his soul. Then, he settled down to wait for his wielder to call his name – the name of a zanpakuto)
"Ichigo . . . have you really not noticed it this entire time?"
(He did not expect to grow attached - to both the name and this stubborn boy. That was not how it was supposed to be. He was supposed to be strict and stern. He was supposed to guide his charge away from this shinigami path of pain and suffering, of fighting battles made for warriors that were centuries –centuries!- older than the human teen still floundering down the path of life. He was supposed to limit the power – to repress it to the point that the boy could do nothing but give up on these scant dreams of saving mountains of people at the cost of his own. He should have known it wouldn't work. He should have known that he could never deny his charge anything - least of all, himself)
"All those times I taught you the intricacies of your zanpakuto . . . I used the powers of your hollow."
(In the end, he had underestimated it. That ocean of power was not going to be denied - would not be tamed or supressed by something as weak as him. So, when the manifestation of that small remaining fraction of shinigami powers appeared - an arrogant, stubborn brat as white as snow with eyes of yellow-gold - he knew what he had to do, and just who would be teaching his wielder the ways of the zanpakuto.)
"When you were unable to wield the powers of your zanpakuto . . . those times . . . when your life was in mortal danger . . . the one responsible for saving you was never me. It was always your Hollow."
(And there in lied his sorrow. He could not save his charge, and he could not teach him. He had only been able to watch with a father's fear and a teacher's worry, as that small remaining shinigami fraction grew stronger and stronger, and his own quincy powers dwindled. Soon - too soon - his charge would need him no longer.)
"I never wanted you to become an actual shinigami. For that very reason, I did everything in my power to suppress that latent potential . . . even going so far as to be your primary source of power."
(It was selfish, but he wanted to be the only one. He wanted to bear the only name that his boy called. He wanted to be the only weapon that his boy wielded.)
"Why you ask? Do I really need to explain why I wanted to keep you out of harm's way? Becoming a shinigami means risking life and limb and always exposing yourself to numerous perils. You would experience pain. You would writhe in suffering. . . "
(How many times had he seen his charge bleed? How many bones had he broken? How many tears had he shed in despair? His wielder had suffered, and he had watched as every self-preservation instinct flew out the window. He watched as the boy threw himself at monsters and kings and gods, leaving his soul shattered. He had watched as those shattered pieces reformed into something stronger, like a sword forged in the fires of war. Who would protect his boy now? Who would keep him from harm's way now?)
". . . and you would eventually die by my hands."
(The king's memories that he carried spoke of death and destruction, and called for the end of all shinigami, including his boy. He would do anything – had done everything - to protect him from that fate, even if it meant that his charge would hate him)
"I couldn't allow you to become a shinigami. Doing so would mean that I would have to take your life . . . "
(In the end, that was never an option. He would have turned his powers upon himself if he could - gone against his very nature of being, if it meant salvation for his boy.)
". . . or so I thought. As time passed, you eventually became a shinigami. You jumped at the chance and trained diligently . . . I must admit it made my heart waiver. Before I knew it, instead of trying to impede your progress, all I wanted to do was to help you and watch you succeed."
(He had watched his boy thrive in the life-and-death lessons of swordplay and battle. He learned quick and dedicated everything of himself into growing stronger. His own beliefs shattered against the strength of his charge's determination and his sheer will to save all he can with whatever power he had. Who was he to deny him that? Who was he to sheild his boy from his very soul?)
"Even now . . . even if it means doing this, I'm more than happy to relinquish my hold over you."
(Even though a small selfish part of him wanted to stay beside him - wanted to see what kind of world his boy would make and the waves that he would leave through every spirit realm in the wake of his full potential.)
"Ichigo, you've become strong. This entire time standing next to you, I've watched proudly as you became a man. The pride I feel is indescribable."
(Urahara Kisuke. Kenpachi Zaraki. Kuchiki Byakuya. Grimmjow Jaeggerjaws. Ulquiorra Cifer. Sosuke Aizen. Every opponent was a stepping stone for his boy, and he had watched defeat after defeat with pride and a little bit of awe - had relished in the fact that his charge had beaten them with but a mere fraction of his true power. He had watched as his boy had been overtaken by despair and sorrow, and he had watched his wielder rise again and again to become the man he now saw. He wondered what would they say when they realized it-when they-shinigami, quincy, hollows, humans- saw the limitless potential that he saw at every moment.)
"I'm finally at peace."
(And he was. His job was done. His boy – man - would survive and thrive and move forward as has always been his nature, and he could finally - finally – rest. But first, this child needed to learn one last thing - the final piece to the puzzle.)
"Ichigo . . . what you have been wielding up til now has only been a fraction of your power . . .
the fraction that I was unable to suppress . . ."
(That fraction had been as stubborn as his wielder-had refused to be actually supressed or denied what was rightfully its place. So he had allowed it to help his charge become stronger and brighter, until its power burned like a white blaze in shadow - his shadow. No longer would it be denied its time in the sun, and no longer would he make it stay in the shade.)
"The time has finally come for you to fight with your own true power. Take it . . . it's yours . . . That is your real zanpakuto . . ."
(How it hurt him to say those words - to say this kind of good-bye when all he really wanted to say was . .)
". . . That is the real Zangetsu."
(. . . I love you, my son. Farewell.)
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A/N: This is just a little Zangetsu drabble. Ichigo's soul is so complex that I just had to immortalize a little piece of it. Reviews are welcome.