The Elysian Fallacy Chapter 1: A perfect Day, a bleach fanfic

A/N: SO I HERD KUBO LIEKS FINALE BABBIES AND PRO BOXERS AND PPL FACING AWAY FROM THE CAMERA AND GIRLS IN APRONS AND DR. ISHIDA, SO I RITE FINALE BABBIES AND PRO BOXERS AND PPL FACING AWAY FROM THE CAMERA AND GIRLS IN APRONS AND DR. ISHIDA, I HOPE U ENJOY 3

(ofc I am not bitter how dare)

Okay, now for the real A/N: In a better universe, I would have all the time in the world to do this properly, i.e. start fixing this arc long before the final few chapters, but sadly, I do not :( Maybe one day, if I'm not too discouraged by all the undoubtedly brilliant fics that will come out in the near future, but for now, I'm tackling the end of Bleach accepting pretty much everything till 684 as canon. Some elements from 685 and 686 will be kept, but most of it will be chucked away for good.

Just be warned that the story will not necessarily be told in chronological order, as evident by the fact that I'm starting from the very end. Think of this as a collection of character pieces that will fill in the gaps from the end of 684 onwards. While this fic will focus heavily on my favorite characters, I plan on doing at least one chapter for all the main players, to tell their stories from their own perspective.

Since ffnet's fields are very limiting, here's the full gamut of the tags on AO3, just so you guys know what you're getting into:

Pairings: Shihouin Yoruichi/Urahara Kisuke, Hirako Shinji/Sarugaki Hiyori, Kuchiki Rukia/Kurosaki Ichigo, Inoue Orihime/Ishida Uryuu

Characters: Urahara Kisuke, Kurosaki Ichigo, Shihouin Yoruichi, Kuchiki Rukia, Hirako Shinji, Sarugaki Hiyori, Tsukabishi Tessai, Inoue Orihime, Ishida Uryuu, Abarai Renji, Sado "Chad" Yasutora, Aizen Sousuke, Shihouin Yuushirou, Gotei 13 | 13 Court Guard Squads, Visored (Bleach), Original Male Character(s), Original Female Character(s)

Cultural notes:

Zabuton: Floor pillows

Yasuda Kinen: Horse racing event taking place in Tokyo every June

A Perfect Day

The pale hand reached for Zangetsu's blade, spindly fingers grasping the cold steel for dear life. Before him, the remnants of a god ribboned out, tapering into inky black gossamer that threatened to fade into non-existence.

"The path… is being closed. Ichigo… the path to a world with no fear. The present world… Soul Society… and Hueco Mundo… they were meant to become one.

Life and death, twisted and fused together, they were destined to all be one and the same.

But now… that will likely never happen.

You have yourself to thank for that… Ichigo.

Sadly, because of all your efforts here… life and death will never lose their current forms, and all those who breathe will continue to pass each and every day by living in fear of death.

For all eternity."

A final rasp, a swan song laced with poison, and the thick, black rain began to fall, fall, fall…

"Kurosaki! KUROSAKI!"

"It can't end like this."

"It always falls on you."

.-. .-'. .-. .-. .-. .-. .`-. .-.

:::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\

' `-' `.-' `-' `-' `-' `-.' `-' `

NINE YEARS LATER…

JUNE 3RD, 2012 A.D., KARAKURA TOWN, JAPAN – MID AFTERNOON

It seemed different, somehow.

Still familiar as a sight, a place distinct and easily recognizable between other places, like Home, or Park or Clinic. However, visiting Warehouse came with its own set of Rules (no touching the floor or the exposed rods, no running) on top of already existing ones: it was yet another place "we never visit alone."

Some Rules were fair (no running down the stairs – a lesson learned with pain) and others weren't. This one was beginning to make a little sense; without the solid warmth of Daddy's bigger hand, Warehouse seemed taller, its corners darker. A vague memory of being snugly strapped against Momma's chest for one of their earlier visits wasn't helping matters, either.

But opportunities like this didn't come along every day, and after slipping out of Clinic without being noticed and getting so far, it would be a waste not to give it a try.

Because being alone meant breaking the most unfair Rule of them all:

No climbing.

That one was a particularly difficult Rule to accept, especially for Warehouse. Because Warehouse had little nooks that would fit smaller feet, and outcroppings, and high walls like Grandfather's Home but even more interesting, and it would be perfect for climbing.

Momma and Daddy would never have to know.

Getting a hold on the crumbling beam was easier than expected. The harsh, dark red coating on the jutting rod above was a little unpleasant to the touch, but the grip was still solid. And yet some fear of slipping remained. Practicing at Home had helped a lot, but sometimes hands and feet just didn't seem to do what they were told, which was annoying.

But Momma had once said other children at this age didn't climb so well, which had felt really nice to hear, so practicing in Warehouse should make it easier to climb up the beams at Home and make Daddy gasp again and say that word that "we should never, ever repeat."

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING OVER THERE, YOU LITTLE TURD? AND HOW DID YOU EVEN GET IN HERE ANYWAY?"

Jumping off the beam was not even a conscious decision, even after recognizing the voice. Aunt Hiyori was always loud but funny and not mean, but she knew Momma and Daddy, and if she told them about this it would mean being Grounded, which didn't happen very often, but was boring and unpleasant when it did.

Running away and hurrying back to Clinic seemed like the best option, all the while hoping that Aunt Hiyori hadn't taken a good look.

Overall, the operation had been a bust, which was a shame. It was an ever bigger shame that lingering just a few seconds longer would've netted some much-desired praise, as Aunt Hiyori said, "Heh… Snot-nosed punk runs like the wind…"

Momma would have been proud.

.-. .-'. .-. .-. .-. .-. .`-. .-.

:::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\

' `-' `.-' `-' `-' `-' `-.' `-' `

JUNE 3RD, 2012 A.D., OUTSIDE THE KUROSAKI CLINIC, KARAKURA TOWN, JAPAN – MID AFTERNOON

"Why do you always walk like that when you're wearing a dress?"

Rukia's steps came to a halt, her eyes seeking out Renji. "Like what?"

Grinning, Renji pushed his shoulders back and puffed his chest out. "Like this," he said, performing what Rukia could only assume was an exaggeration of her own walk, his lower body swaying side to side. "It's like watching a bell on legs."

Decidedly subdued by the mockery, Rukia locked her knees and pressed her arms tightly around her torso, scurrying forward to the entrance to the clinic. "Do not. Shut up," she muttered, ringing the bell.

Truth be told, it was refreshing to be out of her Shihakushō for the first time in a long while. The slim sundress, so reminiscent of the one Ishida had made for her a decade ago, lent itself to a more relaxed gait.

And alright, perhaps she had been trying to make the skirt sway like a bell. Only a little bit.

"Fine, I'll keep it zipped for the rest of the day, how's that?" Renji said, chuckling.

True to his word, he stayed silent and she was spared from any additional commentary as the sound of footsteps came behind the glass door. Ichigo's distorted silhouette entered into view, slowly becoming clearer as he approached and pushed the door open, a bright smile on his lips.

"Yo!"

"Hey!" she greeted back.

As Ichigo took them in, his gaze seemed to linger on her for just a little longer. It barely lasted a second, but she saw it, the way his smile faltered, the shadow that passed over his eyes. As swiftly as it had come it disappeared, and when his smile returned, the artifice of it strained his face. With a swift tilt of his head, he beckoned them inside.

If Renji had noticed the strange behavior as well, he didn't say anything, and simply followed Ichigo into the clinic. For a moment, Rukia hesitated to follow, unsure if what she had seen merited any concern or if it had been little more than a trick of the light. Logic dictated that there was no reason whatsoever for Ichigo's sudden shift in mood. Her gut instinct told a different story.

Closing the door behind her, Rukia stepped inside, eyes trained on Ichigo. "Oh-hoh, I see this place is just as popular as ever! Why…" she said, cupping her hand around her ear. "Yup, I think I even hear some crickets inside!"

Though it didn't make him laugh, the pointed remark worked as intended: it pulled Ichigo straight out of his oddly-timed reverie, his face now animated with what she knew was genuine emotion. "This is an emergency clinic… So being empty is a good thing," he drawled. "If you're done with the stand-up routine, feel free to come inside."

They followed the ambient babble of what sounded like television into the living room, where Tatsuki and Mizuiro were sprawled onto the large couch. Tatsuki was busying herself with her phone, while the latter gently bobbed his head to the tune of the music pouring out of his headphones. A pleasant, borderline familiar aroma Rukia couldn't quite place was wafting from the open kitchen door. On the other side, the sounds of muted conversation were punctuated by the odd clang of something hitting against metal repeatedly. The noise and the scent stirred a memory awake, and with a pang of nostalgia, Rukia suddenly recognized it as the sound of poprcorn kernels being cooked. One of the more odd delicacies of this world, but one she had enjoyed trying nonetheless.

It was Keigo who spotted their arrival first, seemingly on his way out of the kitchen, emptying a fistful of popcorn into his waiting mouth. His gaze fell upon them before Ichigo had even said a word, and he rushed forward, eyes alight with an intensity that made Rukia take a discreet step backward. "AHH, RUKIA!" he said, drawing the attention of his two friends. "A PLEASURE AS ALWAYS, RUKIA! MAKE YOURSELF AT HOME—" He indicated the couch. "—NEXT TO ME IF YOU WA—"

His sentence was cut short when a projectile magazine landed on his head, courtesy of Tatsuki. "Don't go gettin' overly familiar!"

Always the more composed of the three, Mizuiro pulled down his headphones, smile at the ready. "Rukia, it's been a while!" he said. "I like what you've done with your hair, it really suits you!"

"You mean what she's neglected to do with it?" Ichigo quipped as he led them deeper into the living room, hands in his pockets. "It's been the same for nine years now."

Mizuiro shrugged. "It looked just a touch longer to me," he said, then turned to Renji. "Hi. It's… Renji, right?"

Renji waved at the trio casually. "Yup, Renji. Guess this goes to show how often Ichigo talks about me," he said, smirking at the offending party.

"Right, because the Tiniest Dictator over here gives me plenty of time off to visit and have lengthy discussions about you with these guys," Ichigo said, jutting his thumb toward her.

All earlier feelings of concern evaporating on the spot, Rukia was in the middle of contemplating the most painful way possible to retaliate, when her plans were cut short by Karin and Yuzu bustling out of the kitchen.

"Out of the way, comin' through!"

"The popcorn and soda has finally arrived!"

Laden with the most ridiculously large bucket of popcorn Rukia had ever seen, Yuzu came to a halt right before her, the top of the popcorn mound bobbing precariously. "Ahhh, Rukia!" she said, her face lighting up with a smile. "How've you been? It's been almost a year since we saw each other!"

There was no accusation in her tone, merely a hint of well-intended complaint, but it brought forth a blush in Rukia's cheeks all the same. "I know, it seems like forever since I've last seen you guys," she said, flashing Yuzu an apologetic smile.

The realities of her position and duties in the Gotei left little room for social calls, especially to the human world, and though she took great pride in the work that was being done to restore the Seireitei, it didn't make the lengthy separation from her earth-bound friends any easier. Privately, she resolved to do her utmost to manage her time better in the future, try and fit even short visits to Karakura into her schedule as often as she could.

"But uhh…" Rukia went on, feeling her ears grow warmer. "You've… you've gotten big since then…?"

"Nice save," Karin said, smirking at her. "Wait till dad sees you, he's gonna flip."

"So is it starting anytime soon?" Renji said, taking a seat between Tatsuki and Mizuiro.

"There's still some time," Mizuiro said. "But judging by the non-stop promos, it should be getting close. They'll probably do a pre-match show to introduce the fighters and all."

Keigo plopped onto the couch, digging a hand into the gigantic bucket of popcorn Yuzu had laid out on the table. "Maaaan, all this fuss over one match?" he said, tossing some kernels into his mouth.

"It's the World Heavyweight Title match," Tatsuki said, staring at him incredulously.

"Hate to break it to ya, but the only boxing nerd in this room is you," Keigo said, grinning. "And Chad, obviously."

"Well feel free to go take a nap upstairs, too, if it's boring you so much," Tatsuki snapped. "We're still waiting on people, anyway."

.-. .-'. .-. .-. .-. .-. .`-. .-.

:::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\

' `-' `.-' `-' `-' `-' `-.' `-' `

JUNE 3RD, 2012 A.D., KARAKURA GENERAL HOSPITAL, KARAKURA TOWN, JAPAN – MID AFTERNOON

Yamaguchi Kiyo sauntered down the corridor, coming to a stop outside the glossy white door. She gave it a gentle rap, then waited for the familiar voice from within to grant her entry, only to be met with silence.

"Dr. Ishida?" she called, but received no answer yet again. Tentatively, she tried the door handle, peeking in through the ajar door discreetly. "Dr. Ishida?"

The Doctor's office was empty, and curiously enough, there were no signs of any recent activity within the office. No tell-tale coffee mug, no laptop and assorted paraphernalia, no paperwork scattered across the desktop. As far as she could tell, the Doctor hadn't even shown up for work today.

Kiyo closed the door behind her and made her way over to the third floor's reception, where a nurse was clicking away at her keyboard, the glare of the computer screen reflected in her glasses. "Excuse me, I was told I'd find Dr. Ishida—"

"Out for today, I'm afraid," the nurse said, glancing away from her work for a moment to flash her an apologetic smile. "You hadn't heard?"

"Heard what?"

"Today was the big day, this TV program the doc supposedly couldn't miss. The whole floor's had their ear talked off about it all week."

Kiyo's eyebrows arched high at the insinuation. "The Director allowed this?"

Chuckling, the nurse glanced over her shoulder toward either side of the corridor. It seemed to Kiyo that she was checking for any incoming staff in the vicinity, as she proceeded to lean in a bit closer to whisper, "You know how it is when it's family. The Director's gotten soft on us lately," she said, pulling back. "Not that the break isn't well-deserved, mind you," she hurried to add. "Dr. Ishida is nothing if not a hard worker."

.-. .-'. .-. .-. .-. .-. .`-. .-.

:::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\

' `-' `.-' `-' `-' `-' `-.' `-' `

JUNE 3RD, 2012 A.D., KUROSAKI RESIDENCE, KARAKURA TOWN, JAPAN – MID AFTERNOON

"I'LL GET IIIIIIIIT!"

As Yuzu swept past him to answer the door, Ichigo sunk deeper into the soft couch, a bowl of popcorn balanced on his thighs. "What's with the leg? You okay?" he asked Tatsuki, nudging her with one foot.

Propped up on top of the coffee table, Tatsuki's bandaged right calf was lit up under the glowing arc of Sōten Kisshun. Waving one hand airily, she turned to him. "Just a stupid training injury. Orihime insisted on treating it herself," she said. "Can still kick your ass even with a limp, in case you were wondering."

Deciding not to dignify that with a response, Ichigo shoved a handful of buttered popcorn into his mouth, then offered the bowl to Tatsuki, who simply crinkled her nose and shook her head.

Behind her, Ichigo saw Mizuiro slipping out his headphones again and looking straight past them. "Ohhh, if it isn't Ishida!" he said. "Didn't know if you were gonna make it."

Following Mizuiro's line of sight, Ichigo turned to find Yuzu and Ishida ambling into the living room.

The reaction was involuntary: as the case was with every one of his visits to the human world as of late, Ichigo was immediately stricken by the visible change in Ishida. Though younger-looking than his twenty-six years, he looked more the part of the adult with each passing day.

But beyond the merely observable, there was something about the way he carried himself. The Ishida he had known in highschool had been comfortable walking in the shadows, unnoticed. Today, the air of effortless ease that surrounded him demanded the attention of the entire room. As he exchanged hellos with everyone, all ambient sounds faded into the background, and Ichigo could do nothing but stare.

Ishida looked serene, in charge of himself.

Happy, even.

"Didn't know if you were gonna make it."

The world slowed down to a near stop, and he could hear it again, the sound of the heavy black rain pouring down in torrents, flooding the entire world until he was drowning, choking in it—

"Look!"

He heard Rukia's voice as though from afar, distorted, the familiar sound pulling him out of the thick, syrupy haze. Eyelids blinking rapidly, Ichigo watched as she hurried over to Ishida, her fists tightly clenched around the sides of her skirt. She held it stretched wide, a broad grin on her face, then spun around once, the skirt fluttering alongside her movement.

Ishida chuckled at the sight, setting aside the magazine he'd been carrying under one arm. "I knew it would suit you really well, Kuchiki-san," he said.

More to keep himself anchored to reality than for any other reason, Ichigo forced the incoming wave of nausea into the back of his mind and spoke up, his drawl loud enough to be heard throughout the room. "Yeah, yeah, yeah," he said. "What he's not telling you is that this is probably a seven-year-old design or something."

One eyebrow arched over the rim of his glasses, Ishida shifted his gaze over to him. "A classic never goes out of style, Kuros—" The words died on his lips at once, the second eyebrow joining its twin in clear surprise.

"What?" Ichigo said, brow creasing under the peculiar scrutiny of Ishida's gaze.

"Are we not talking about the state of Kurosaki's hair?" Ishida said, turning to Renji and Rukia for answers.

If there was anything that could have dissolved any and all remaining sensation of unease within him, it was the mere mention of that subject. Nearly upending the bowl of popcorn as he rose up on his knees, Ichigo pointed a finger straight at Ishida in warning. "There is nothing wrong with my hair!" he said, a chorus of laughter serenading his exclamation.

"Just going prematurely bald, then?" Ishida quipped.

"Ichigo had a little accident," Renji said, a little too eagerly.

He'd never been particularly vain about it, certainly nowhere near as much as Renji was, but the loss of his painstakingly grown-out hair was still a sore subject. 'Little accident' seemed like too light a description for it.

"Still struggling with the simplest of kidō, Kurosaki?" Ishida said, working out the subtext at once.

Lips pursed, Ichigo straddled the backrest of the couch and leapt to the floor, marching forward. "I'll show you struggling," he spat at Ishida, then promptly held his palm open between them, where a rapidly growing, pulsating sphere of yellow energy bloomed into being. "Whaddya call that?"

Clearly unimpressed, Ishida glanced at the sphere over the rim of his glasses. "Unstable, by the looks of it," he said, eyeing the crackling outline warily.

Renji apparently agreed. "Oi, Ichigo; hold back a little!"

"I am!" Ichigo hurried to say, even as the sphere continued to balloon up to the size of a beach ball. "It's just this stupid gigai—"

"YOU'RE GONNA BLOW THE WHOLE HOUSE UP, YOU MORON!"

"SHUT UP, NO I'M NOT, I JUST—"

But he never managed to finish that sentence as just then, the sphere lost all semblance of structure and ruptured in a loud, but thankfully contained explosion. The less fortunate part was the fact that it blew up right into Ishida's face.

With a pained cry, Ishida took a step back, one hand draped over his eyes. There's was a very brief moment of silence, and then everything happened at once. It became impossible to make out a single word in the ensuing moments, Ichigo's apologies, Ishida's cursing and everyone else's worried cries blending into a unified, unintelligible din.

"What happened, is everything—?" a voice suddenly cut in through the noise, and Ichigo saw Inoue clutching the doorframe leading out of the kitchen. Her eyes snapped open wide the second she took the scene in. "Uryū-kun!"

As the commotion slowly died down, a pink-cheeked Ichigo averted his gaze from Inoue checking up on Ishida, and immediately regretted it: in between Rukia rolling her eyes at him and Renji chortling, he might as well have endured Ishida's withering stare a little longer.

"It's… it's not so bad," Inoue was saying, a tremulous smile on her lips as her fingers swept past Ishida's blackened face and glasses, going over his partly burnt eyebrows. "I'll set it right once I'm done with Tatsuki-chan's leg."

Thankfully, Inoue's presence not only had a calming effect on Ishida, but when he marched off to the bathroom to wash up, the incident was mostly forgotten in the light of her catching up with Renji and Rukia.

"…oh, that reminds me!" Inoue said. "Uryū-kuuuuuuun! Did you get the magazine?"

Ishida's muffled voice came from within the bathroom, and Ichigo was able to make out the words 'coffee table.' Inoue scurried over to fetch the magazine in question, her face aglow with pride as she flipped it open before Renji and Rukia and pointed at a particular page.

"…Pictured, Ishida Uryū in his atelier that sits above the small crafts shop on Himeji Street," Renji muttered, reading out loud. "You guys still run the crafts store?" he said, turning to Inoue.

"It doesn't turn a huge profit," Inoue said, shrugging as she undid the apron she had borrowed from Yuzu when she'd arrived. "Sometimes it barely covers the cost of rent and the clerk's paycheck, haha. But we didn't want to let it go."

"Damn, Ishida; I didn't know you were so photogenic!" Rukia called out with a grin. "Looking goooood."

It didn't take an actual visual to picture Ishida's reaction as he muttered something unintelligible from the other room. Ichigo could see him as clearly as if he stood before them, pushing his glasses back and flushing red. Over Inoue's shoulder, Ichigo skimmed through the article praising Ishida's small but tasteful collection of handcrafted clothes, unable to smother a smile. In light of nearly burning off his friend's face, Ichigo decided against asking when the cape collection was going to be released.

"Kurosaki-kun, can you give this back to Yuzu-chan?" Inoue said, folding the apron in her hands into a neat little bundle.

"Thanks for the cookies and all, but I told you, you didn't have to; we already had plenty of snacks," Ichigo said.

"Well, they're for Tatsuki-chan," she said, handing him the apron. "You know she can't have any of those sugared, salty—" Upon seeing the mildly guilty expression on his face, Inoue grimaced. "You didn't offer her any of those snacks, did you?"

"…No?"

"Oh, Kurosaki-kun…"

"She didn't eat any!"

"I'm perfectly capable of saying 'no,' Orihime," Tatsuki called, turning to look at them over her shoulder. "Even if Ichigo struggles to follow a simple set of instructions."

Rolling his eyes, Ichigo decided not to engage. "Can't seem to do anything right today," he muttered, then hurried on to add, "You can let some of them go by," as Rukia opened her mouth to weigh in.

Whether she planned on retorting he never found out, as the phone rang at that moment, and Ichigo hurried to answer, grateful for the opportunity to escape further scrutiny. The caller on the other end of the line was not a familiar voice, and though the request was a little odd, Ichigo didn't question it.

"Oi!" he called to the room at large. "Hospital calling for Dr. Ishida," he said, jiggling the receiver in his hand.

Still engaged in conversation with Renji and Rukia, Inoue paused for a second, then pawed at her skirt pocket, retrieving her phone. "Oh, shoot, I left it on silent," she said, grimacing at what Ichigo could only assume were several missed calls. Slipping it back in place, she dashed over to him and gave a quick apology before picking up the receiver. "Hello?"

"I thought Orihime was a physic?" Renji said once Ichigo rejoined them, bobbing his head once toward Inoue.

"Physicist," Rukia corrected him.

"Yes, that. Since when is she a doctor?"

"Inoue got a Ph. D a couple of months ago," Ichigo said.

In the second of silence that stretched in between his explanation and Renji's reaction, it dawned on Ichigo that it was unlikely Renji would be familiar with the term. Instead of looking confused, however, Renji adopted an expression akin to someone being let in on a scandalizing secret. Almost immediately, he schooled his expression to one of mild disapproval and leaned in to whisper to him, "Dude, not cool; that stuff's private. Lower your voice."

It was clear from the splash of color on his cheeks that Renji had completely misinterpreted the title. Ichigo was about to ask what on earth he was talking about, when Renji's earlier comment clicked, and it became obvious he was under the impression Inoue was a patient in the hospital, being treated for something of a delicate nature. "…A PHILOSOPHER'S DOCTORATE."

"Yeah Renji, geez!" Rukia piled on.

"Oh, because you knew what a Ph. D was," Ichigo said, arching an eyebrow at her before clearing up the confusion. "Doctor is a general title you get when you're qualified to teach at a university level. Physicians are called Medical Doctors."

"Then why's the hospital calling her?" Renji said.

"The university is conducting a study in collaboration with the hospital," Ishida said, sauntering back into the living room as he patted his face dry with a towel. "Orihime was in charge of calibrating their MRI; she left behind instructions for today, but I guess the technician must've misplaced her notes or something to that effect."

Out of the corner of his eye, Ichigo saw Renji glancing at Rukia questioningly, only to have her shrug back, equally at a loss over what was being discussed.

The conversation soon shifted into playful ribbing over the clear favoritism Ishida's father was showing Inoue: sparing no expense for the refurbished office he had secured for her in the hospital, allowing her as flexible as a schedule as he could, and various other small acts that betrayed how much he doted on his daughter-in-law. And despite the many and colorful adjectives Ishida often had to share in regards to his father, it was clear by the barest hints of a smile on his face that he approved of this behaviour whole-heartedly.

Ichigo's attention was drawn away from the discussion by the sound of approaching footsteps, and he turned to find his father stumbling downstairs. Excusing himself, he made his way over to the foot of the stairs, leaning against the wall.

"Did we wake up the kid?" he asked.

It took his father a moment to respond, his eyes still glazed over while he seemingly stared at the blank wall, unseeing. "Hnnn?"

"The explosion," Ichigo said when his father turned to look at him, a glimmer of worry in his eyes. "Did it wake her up?"

"No, no… She is, ah… she's still…"

It was then that Ichigo realized, much to his horror, that his father had yet to pounce on Rukia and be his typical, embarrassing self. Which could only mean that something else was gnawing at him, and Ichigo had an inkling as to what that might be. "Dad… Where is Midori?"

The confrontational tone broke any and all vestiges of self-control his old man had left. Grasping the banister, teeth digging into his lower lip, he leaned in to whisper in a tortured, hushed voice. "I don't know!"

"YOU LOST HER? HOW THE HELL DO YOU JUST LOSE A SLEEPING KID?"

"Okay, you have no idea how quiet the little runt is! She hardly ever speaks as it is and let me tell you that is not normal for a kid her age okay I raised three children three Ichigo I know that stuff don't look at me like that these are the facts all three of you were talking up a storm when you were toddlers it's just how things are! And she just acts all cute and quiet with her big pretty eyes like a sweet little girl and then just BLAM I didn't even realize—"

The stirrings of their argument hadn't gone unnoticed by the small crowd that was gathered in the living room, and it was Karin who stepped forward to defuse the situation. "What's going on?"

Before his father had a chance to start moping to try and garner Karin's sympathy –a nearly impossible feat as it was- Ichigo turned to her first. "Dad lost Midori."

"WHAT."

The news travelled throughout the living room like wildfire.

"Aw, shit."

"Lost who?"

Even Inoue put her call on hold, placing one hand over the receiver. "Midori-chan is missing?"

"Geez, it's a wonder any of us ever made it past infancy!"

"YOU MAY THINK THEY'RE JUST WORDS, BUT THEY HURT DADDY JUST AS MUCH AS STICKS AND STONES, KARIN."

It was Rukia who put an end to the uproar, raising her voice above the din. "Okay, everyone, let's not panic: spread out in the house and the clinic. She's probably just hiding somewhere."

As everyone nodded in unison and stepped in line, Renji walked up to her, muttering into her ear. He kept his voice low and discreet, but Ichigo was close enough to make out his words. "Shouldn't we be able to sense her spiritual signature if she was close?"

Rukia let out a sigh in begrudging agreement. "Probably. Still… considering who her parents are, would you really be surprised if she can cloak her presence, even on a subconscious level?"

"…Good point."

Within seconds, cries of 'Midori!' echoed throughout the entire house. Curtains were pulled aside, nooks and crannies were thoroughly examined, furniture all but upturned in search of any signs of the girl.

Ichigo was just pushing himself up to his feet after checking the underside of the couch, when Keigo approached him.

"Who are we looking for, again?" he whispered.

"Midori," Ichigo said, now coming to the realization Keigo had no idea who she was. By the time he and Mizuiro had arrived, Midori had already been dropped off at their place and had been –allegedly as it turned out- taking a nap. "She's a little kid, looks around three, maybe four years old. Brown hair down to her shoulders, dark skin, grey eyes."

"All right, but who is—?"

"Urahara-san's daughter."

"Urah—? The shopkeeper? He has a kid?"

Ichigo let out a snort; he couldn't really fault Keigo for his reaction. "Yeah, I'm still having trouble believing it, myself. Well… Actually he has three kids, but the other two are adults now. He dropped Midori off a few hours ago to go pick up the other two from the airport."

Keigo still seemed to be confused about the supplied information. "Isn't he dead? I mean… not dead-dead, more like… you dead."

"He is."

"…And… the mother is 'dead,' too?"

"Yup. You've seen her around: Yoruichi-san."

"…The uber hot chick that can turn into a cat?"

"Yes."

"Sheeeesh. Lucky bastard… But seriously, how does that even… work?"

Getting tired of Keigo trailing behind him all over the house and certain he didn't really want to answer that last question, Ichigo turned to him warily. "What do you mean, Keigo?"

"The whole baby thing! They're dead! Or… spirits, whatever."

"It works the same way it does anywhere else."

"…Are you telling me that Soul Babies happen when, what, the Soul Sperm meets the Soul Egg?"

There was really no way to respond to this other than give Keigo his most withering stare, and before any more inane questions could be posed, the sound of the doorbell ringing rippled throughout the house, effectively spreading a tense, eerie silence in its wake.

Ichigo's eyes met Rukia's as she sprinted back from the clinic, sporting an identical grimace to the one he wore. Trying to think positively for once, instead of the more likely, dreaded scenario, Ichigo shrugged at her hopefully. "You don't think…?"

"Yes, because toddlers have the good sense to return after they've escaped," Rukia drawled. "She can't even reach the doorbell!"

"Some days, I'm still surprised you can," Ichigo muttered at her, deciding then and there not to prolong the inevitable. Walking over to the door, he took a deep breath in then yanked it open, coming face-to-face what with they had all feared the second the chime of the doorbell had pierced the air.

"Heeeeeey, it's Urahara-san!" Ichigo called out to the house. "EVERYONE, IT'S URAHARA-SAN AND YORUICHI-SAN AND EVERYONE ELSE. THEY'RE HERE. RIGHT NOW."

As the five former and current members of the shōten lingered behind the door, sharing identical looks of bewilderment, it was Yoruichi-san who broke the awkward silence. "You saw us three hours ago," she said, blinking at him.

If her expression betrayed that she was confused by his greeting, the welcome she then received by everyone else only made the situation worse.

"Eeeeyyyyyyy, Urahara-san!"

"WELCOME YOU GUYYYYYSS."

"HEEEYYYYYY YOU BROUGHT URURU AND JINTA I LOVE URURU AND JINTA I'M SO GLAD THEY'RE HERE I THINK I'M GOING TO GO TAKE A WALK NOW TO COOL MY HEAD OFF."

In response to the onslaught of violently cheerful greetings, Tessai leaned in over Urahara-san's shoulder to take a careful sniff of the interior. "Has someone been… baking?"

Feeling his entire back breaking out in cold sweat, Ichigo let out a high-pitched, almost hysterical peal of laughter. "Ahahaha, classic Tessai!"

As Yoruichi-san's narrowed eyes landed on him, Urahara-san hurried to put his hands up in an attempt to placate the incoming explosion. "Don't look at me; I didn't sell them anything."

Still rooted at the spot, Ichigo tried to will his frantic mind to come up with something, anything to distract them with, before they could start questioning why they were being held up at the entrance. He was just beginning to construct the most elaborate, humiliatingly transparent lie, when salvation arrived in the form of Hirako, of all people.

"Someone lose this?"

To Ichigo's utter relief, he saw that Hirako was carrying Midori in one arm, the little girl's face contorted into a sheepish scowl.

He wasted no time trying to make sense of how that had even transpired, the short-lived feeling of elation giving way to panic: somehow, he needed to communicate to Hirako to keep quiet about whatever circumstances had led to him finding the kid.

"Wha—? Midori? Why are you—?" Yoruichi-san began, when something within her clicked. "WHY IS SHE WITH HIRAKO?" Her cutting glare homed in on his father before she turned back to Hirako.

"Hey," Hirako said, raising his free hand in a plea for peace. "I just found her runnin' outta Hiyori's—"

His words came to a stop as soon as he spotted Ichigo making sharp, cutting motions with one palm across his throat, but Hirako either didn't understand the signal, or simply didn't want to get involved in this mess. Quite frankly, given the look in Yoruichi-san's eyes, Ichigo couldn't even fault him.

"Yeaaaaah, I have no idea what this is all about," he said, gesturing vaguely at Ichigo. "I just came to deliver the munchkin." He made a move to hand Midori back to her father's waiting arms, but the little girl, her eyes suddenly round with delight, shot right past him and jumped into Ururu's arms, instead.

If Ichigo was taken aback by the appearance of a rare, beaming smile on Ururu's lips once the toddler buried herself into her embrace, it was nothing compared to the shock someone else was currently experiencing.

"Midori…" Urahara-san said, sounding close to tears. "WHY?"

"She sees your ugly mug every day," Jinta said with a cackle, kissing Midori's little hand when she reached out for him. "Of course she's missed us."

Though the cold fury still lingered somewhere in her eyes, Yoruichi-san didn't press the matter any further and pinched her daughter's chin gently, giving her an only mildly scolding stare. "We'll be talking about why she was running around Hiyori's later."

Ichigo didn't know whether to applaud or not when Midori hid her face into Ururu's neck as they all stepped indoors. It was a perfectly child-like reaction, but something about the cool intelligence that always seemed to be reflected in the little girl's eyes made him think this was nothing but a perfectly executed act. Urahara-san had once mentioned development in Souls was the same as what one might expect from a human of the same visible age, but Ichigo wouldn't be surprised to hear that the girl in question was a little sharper than her contemporaries.

Even armed with that knowledge, he couldn't deny it was still a little disconcerting, witnessing the decelerated growth of a child born of two souls: though she had arrived to this world barely a year after the end of the war, Midori still had the appearance on a human toddler. Equally disconcerting was the fact that every time he looked in a mirror, Ichigo now saw the face of a nineteen year old (or whereabouts) staring back at him, and not the twenty-six year old man his time on earth dictated he should look like.

For once, after almost twelve years of dealings with Shinigami, Ichigo was beginning to fully grasp the concept of mortality, the way death was an inextricable part of a Shinigami's life and occupation.

His friends were aging at a rate that now seemed frenetic to his eyes. His sisters were already physically older than he was, for crying out loud.

He understood now, why his father had chosen to return to the human shell Urahara-san had once crafted for him. He understood why Urahara-san himself still doted on Jinta and Ururu, even though they were now adults in their own right.

He understood now, what Rukia had told him once, many years ago, about how fragile human life was.

Even more fragile than any of them realizes. If only they knew, if only—

"You gonna close the door or what?"

Blinking, Ichigo turned to Renji and took a second to parse his words, then nodded sharply and shut the door with a loud thud. He could feel Rukia's eyes on him, but he avoided her gaze, focusing instead on his old man, who was patting Urahara-san on the back and muttering something about 'the pain of being a father to spirited daughters.'

Somewhere in the midst of exchanging hellos, Hirako bid them all goodbye despite everyone's insistence that he was welcome to stay, mentioning that he was visiting Hiyori today.

"Ikumi-san says hello, by the way. Hiyori's wordin' was a little more vulgar, to be honest, but I figure that's what she meant. Give 'er a call sometime," he shot at Ichigo as he headed for the door. "Have fun, y'all. See ya around."

"Four hundredth and fifty seventh time's the charm, eh, Hirako?" Yoruichi-san called at his departing form, a smirk on her lips.

Hirako lingered by the threshold long enough to give her an only half-hearted glare. "….Shut up," he muttered, then closed the door behind him.

By the time everyone had settled down, the doorbell rang for one last time, revealing a harried-looking Chad who apologized for the delay at once. After a quick hello at the grown ups who had retired to the kitchen, Chad hurried back into the living room.

"Finally, the man of the hour!" Keigo said. "Your big debut's about to air!" His words were accompanied by what could only be described as the world's most ostentatious and cringe-worthy wink.

"My what?" Chad asked.

Mizuiro let out a snort, grinning at Chad as he took his seat by the couch. "The music video."

There was a momentary pause on Chad's features, then Mizuiro's words connected. "Oh, good grief…" he said, cupping his palms over his reddening face.

"I still can't believe you wound up becoming the most famous of all of us," Keigo said.

"Us?" Mizuiro said, searching for Ichigo's eye to share in the disbelief. "Were you ever seriously in contention?"

"LAST I CHECKED, US INCLUDES ME AND YOU, SMARTASS!"

"Quiet, it's starting!"

Ichigo had never before witnessed anyone as singularly uncomfortable as Chad seemed to be at that very moment, when the TV screen lit up with the scene of a woebegone-looking boxing ring, where a lone fighter was training. He was no actor, but as far as Ichigo was concerned, Chad was pulling it off more than convincingly.

Already an indie sensation for years, Chad's band had made their first true breakthrough to mainstream when a producer had asked for the rights to use one of their tracks in an upcoming film's soundtrack. The rest, as they say, was history: Hasegawa Kenzo's biopic, airing soon after his first shot at the World Title match tonight, was slated to be a success.

On top of providing his musical talent, Chad was one of the two band members making an actual appearance in the music video tie-in for the movie. When he had first received the casting call, Ichigo remembered Chad quipping that he hoped his abuelo would forgive him this one transgression of using his strength for personal gain.

"Geez, you look more the part than any of these scrubs do," Renji said, to the agreement of all present.

"Yeah, Chad," Ichigo said, giving him a playful elbowing. "You should've been a boxer."

Chad's only response was to scoff gently and continue to watch the screen through the cracks between his fingers.

"What the hell?" Tatsuki said, glaring at the room at large. "I thought we all gathered to watch Chad's music video and cheer him on; what's with the attitude?"

Behind her, Inoue sauntered toward the couch playfully, her long hair dropping over one shoulder as she leaned over the backrest to meet Tatsuki's eye. "Did we, though?"

Now looking utterly lost, Tatsuki turned to them one by one, alarmed by the sea of identical smirks that were all directed at her. "W-what?"

Wordlessly, but still grinning broadly, Inoue pointed at the TV screen. With the music video now over, a few last-minute ads were being broadcast in preparation for the match. Including the long-awaited first ad for the all-star Japanese Olympic athletes that were slated to compete in London in a few months' time.

"Oh, Orihime…" Tatsuki said, hiding her crimson face behind her palms and sinking low into the couch as a dynamic shot of her in her boxing gear flashed through the screen, subtitled by:

Arisawa Tatsuki, Women's Boxing.

Letting out a squeal, Inoue wrapped her arms around Tatsuki's head gave her a tight squeeze. "Tatsuki-chan's gonna be in the Olympiiiiiics!"

Emerging from within Inoue's embrace with a deep flush as brilliant as a glowing sunset, Tatsuki turned to him. Her tone was only marginally accusatory. "You knew about this?"

Ichigo could only shrug, dissolving into laughter when Tatsuki threw a pillow at him. She tried in vain not to smile at the applause and compliments that poured forth following the ad, Keigo straight-out emitting a celebratory whistle.

"Ohhhh, I know what we need!" Inoue said, standing upright and bouncing on her feet. "Big group picture, now that Sado-kun is here and we're all together!"

Her suggestion was greeted with a round of groans at first, but it didn't take long before they all acquiesced, once Tatsuki made the very valid point that the only way to quiet her down was to get it over with.

"But you're gonna have to spread out around this couch, I am not moving," she said, folding her hands atop her belly and lying back with a smirk on her face.

It took a while to find a configuration that worked for a small crowd gathered around an even smaller couch, but eventually, they agreed on the taller members taking a seat on the zabuton by the floor. Someone called for Urahara-san to come take their picture, and it was then Ichigo noticed Ishida was still standing on the side.

"Oi, Ishida! Today," Ichigo said, motioning sharply toward the couch.

"I'm not going to be in the picture," Ishida said, a hint of impatience in his voice.

"Why the hell not?"

"BECAUSE YOU SINGED OFF MY EYEBROWS, KUROSAKI. NOT AN OCCASION I WANT IMMORTALIZED."

Ichigo didn't know what was more pathetic; the amount of time it took to resolve the argument, or the fact that Ishida, at one point, agreed to be in the photo only if his back was turned to the camera.

"OKAY, NOW YOU'RE JUST ACTING LIKE A BRAT."

The retort ready in his mouth, Ishida swivelled around to respond, coming to a sudden halt when Inoue calmly stepped up to him. "Orih—"

Whatever he was about to say never left his lips as Inoue began to run her fingers through his front bangs, quickly rearranging them so they swept across his forehead. Taking a step back, she admired the result of her handiwork with a proud grin, her clever fingers adjusting a few last tendrils of hair. "There. No sign of missing eyebrows now. Will you take a picture with us?" she said, smiling softly at him. "Wouldn't be right without you."

On any other occasion, Ichigo would've never let him live this down, but the sooner they took the damn photo, the sooner they could relax and watch the match.

And so he kept his mouth shut, as Ishida's eyes glazed over and he let out a noise that sounded like, "Mmmffnngh," then let Inoue guide him to the front by the hand, holding her gaze the entire time.

"Okay now," Urahara-san said once they had all settled down, his phone camera at the ready. "Everyone smile and say: Isshin-san has not even begun to feel sorry for losing my daughter."

"H-HEY!"

.-. .-'. .-. .-. .-. .-. .`-. .-.

:::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\

' `-' `.-' `-' `-' `-' `-.' `-' `

"Kurosaki! KUROSAKI!"

"What the hell were you thinking? You had him! One blow, that's all it would've taken! He was already half-way gone—"

"I can't— I won't… It can't end like this."

"It always falls on you."

"…I said no. This isn't how it's going to end. This isn't what we fought for."

"Kurosaki, wait!"

.-. .-'. .-. .-. .-. .-. .`-. .-.

:::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\

' `-' `.-' `-' `-' `-' `-.' `-' `

JUNE 3RD, 2012 A.D., KUROSAKI RESIDENCE, KARAKURA TOWN, JAPAN – LATE EVENING

As discreetly as he could, Ichigo slipped one finger into his pocket and pressed down. The corner of the black phone peeking out of the denim lit up into life: the numbers on the clock read 11:42. Almost there. Still, he had known disaster to strike in a fraction of the time they had left; he was not allowed to relax quite yet.

Locking the phone back into hibernation, Ichigo redirected his attention over to the discussion on the Seireitei's never-ending restoration project, but not before he caught Rukia in the act of averting her gaze.

As far as he could tell, there were no signs of suspicion etched out on her face, but then again, she had never had trouble acting. Sandwiched between Renji and Keigo on one of the large zabuton on the floor, she slipped back into the conversation with ease.

No-one else seemed to have taken note of his momentary distraction. From his seat in the armchair by the TV, he had a fairly unobstructed view of everyone in the vicinity.

Over at the dining table, Mizuiro and the twins were far too engrossed in a game of cards against Chad and Urahara-san's kids to notice. In the dimly lit living room, the TV screen played a re-run of last week's Yasuda Kinen horse race on mute. Heavy with junk food and a fair few glasses of sake, half their group was sprawled out on the zabuton, seemingly struggling to stay awake. Their already wavering attention was split between the only marginally interesting program and the lazily carried out conversation.

Inoue had already nodded off against Ishida's shoulder more than once, but seemed determined to stay awake despite his repeated suggestions that they excuse themselves for the night. Ishida himself appeared to be wide awake, though visibly tired. The only person not currently stifling a yawn or even bothering with any pretense whatsoever was Midori, already passed out in her father's embrace, her small arms loosely wrapped around his neck. Next to them on the couch, Yoruichi-san would steal the occasional glance before diving back into the conversation.

"…long enough, hasn't it?" Ishida was saying. "Nine years without a Captain at the helm… Doesn't this make Kuchiki-san's workload almost twice as great?"

"You doubting my multi-tasking capabilities, Ishida?" Rukia said with a challenging grin.

"It wouldn't be the first time, to be honest," Renji said, then hurried to add. "Having a vacant Captain position for so long, not doubting Rukia. Many of us already do that on a daily basis."

"At any rate," Rukia said, landing a punch on Renji's arm. The intent had been seemingly playful, but judging by Renji's soundless cry, appearances were deceiving. "Finding a replacement for someone of Captain Ukitake's caliber is… not an easy task." Though the pain in her expression was visibly subdued from what it had been in the first few years, Ichigo could still see the effect the loss of her superior had had on her.

And she was not alone; the mere mention of his name rendered them all silent for a few moments, Rukia's pain rippling throughout the room, now mirrored on the faces of all those present, whose lives had been touched by the late Captain Ukitake.

"She's right," his father said, breaking the lull in the conversation. "It's not unusual for the process to take many years in times of peace. When I left the Gotei, I imagine it took—"

"Two months," Renji said.

"I… what?"

"That's how long it took for Captain Hitsugaya to be promoted."

Cheeks reddening at the soft chortling that permeated the room, his father crossed his arms before his chest. "Well… just goes to show… the promotion is not immediate."

"I'm surprised none of you have been offered the spot," Ishida said, addressing Urahara-san, Yoruichi-san and Tessai. "Yadōmaru-san was asked to return, wasn't she?"

His comment drew a reaction out of both the three of them and the other Shinigami in the room. As the former shared a knowing look, it was Renji who answered Ishida's question first. "Oh, we offered all right…"

"But there are only so many ways—" Urahara-san said, one hand lazily stroking his daughter's back.

"—you can say 'No' before it becomes…" Yoruichi-san piled on, brow creased in search of the right word.

"Impolite," Tessai finished for them.

"Sure, let's go with that," said Yoruichi-san, grinning.

"You weren't tempted?" Rukia said, wrapping her arms around her shins and resting her chin against her knees. Her bare toes dug leisurely into the zabuton, a tendril of hair tickling her nose when she gently leaned her head to the side. "Not even once?"

"With all due deference to Kuchiki-dono," Tessai said. "We made our choice a long time ago. Not that the offer wasn't humbling. And there really was no need; Hachigen-dono is doing a wonderful job, from what I hear."

"I swear I thought you were preparing to move back," Renji said. "I remember Yoruichi-san spent that whole first year back and forth between Karakura and Soul Society."

"Mmm, carrying another man's child, no less," Urahara-san said, effectively yanking Ichigo straight into the conversation.

"You are never letting that one go, are you?" Ichigo said, sighing.

Apparently, neither was Yoruichi-san. "Thankfully, Kisuke was very understanding and agreed to raise her with me."

It was an old joke, one that had long ago stopped being funny, if you asked him, but Ichigo was spared from any further humiliation, when Keigo's sudden cry drew the attention of the room.

"Okay, how the hell did you just do that?" he said, as a jockey pranced about the TV screen atop his steed, smiling and waving to the cheering crowd.

Inoue shrugged, a demure smile on her lips. "It's just how it works: horses that stay in the pack the longest before breaking away in the final leg have increased chances of winning."

This answer didn't seem to satisfy Keigo, and if Ichigo was being honest, he couldn't understand how Inoue had predicted the winner either.

"Inoue-san is right," Urahara-san said. "It's the same in motor racing: by getting into the slipstream of the racer in front, you gain the aerodynamic advantage."

Inoue nodded; apparently, Urahara-san's explanation made perfect sense to her. "Plus, in horse racing there's also the element of the animals inevitably tiring out, so by letting the lead deal with all the wind resistance, the back horse has more energy left for a last sprint."

"So… wait…" Keigo said. "Can you predict the winner of every horse race? 'Cause that could be… potentially profitable."

Inoue let out a chuckle at that. "I suppose I could, as long as the races all include perfectly elastic spherical horses moving through a vacuum," she said, now laughing in earnest.

Whatever point she had just made seemed to fly over everyone's head, Ichigo saw to his relief, save for Ishida, who gave her a fond smile, and Urahara-san, who genuinely seemed to find her comment funny.

"It was a good joke," he said with a shrug, when Yoruichi-san arched a questioning eyebrow at him.

"Nerds," she said, shaking her head.

Though the general consensus was that the joke had fallen flat, it did seem to stir a memory awake in Tatsuki. "Wait… Is that why you had that round cow plushie in your room for ages?"

"Ohhhhh, that was a gift from Uryū-kun!"

Next to Inoue, Ishida went from porcelain-pale to deep red in a matter of milliseconds. "Orihime…"

Undeterred by his hand gently squeezing hers, Inoue went on to provide details, much to Ichigo's delight. "I was giving this lecture to freshmen and every professor I'd ever had always went, 'Consider a spherical cow,' " she said, her voice taking on a rigid, deep timbre. "So I thought why consider it? People always learn better with visual aids, right? So I had this idea of showing the students a spherical cow and Uryū-kun made me one for my lecture!"

"Well isn't that just darling," Rukia said, smirking at Ishida, whose entire upper body now resembled a beet in color.

"Her name is Maru-chan!"

As much as he was taking pleasure in the fact that Ishida was paying for his earlier bad karma, Ichigo soon realized that with the momentary shift in attention, this was a prime opportunity to slip away for a short break without drawing any suspicion. Excusing himself, he made his way to the bathroom. As soon as the door closed behind him, he slipped his phone out, fingers shaking while he checked the time yet again.

11:59.

The sensation that had been bubbling within him since morning reached its boiling point. The fear was no longer settling in, sinking its claws deeper and deeper. It was simply there.

Heart galloping, he held the phone before his eyes in silence, counting every second. Four, three, two, one…

The moment the digital numbers morphed into 12:01, Ichigo let out a breath he hadn't even been aware he'd been holding in. He was barely able to pocket the phone again, the tremor in his hands exacerbating, and he reached out to grip the rim of the sink for support.

Breathe… just breathe… It's over.

Swallowing hard, he pressed the flush once, then turned the tap on and cupped his hands beneath the stream. The cool water felt refreshing against his feverish skin, quelling some of his anxiety, but he knew he couldn't stay locked in there forever.

With a sigh, Ichigo padded his face dry, taking a deep breath before he pushed the bathroom door open. The second he did, he nearly jumped out of his skin.

"You need to get your act together."

Ichigo barely managed to suppress a cry at the unexpected sight of his father blocking his exit. Standing broad by the doorway, he kept his arms tightly wound across his chest, his dark eyebrows knit together.

"I…. what?" Ichigo breathed out.

Pursing his lips, his father glanced at both sides of the corridor before leaning in. Though his expression softened somewhat in its severity, a gleam of worry still haunted his eyes. "At this rate, Ryūken is going to become a grandfather before me. If you act now, there's still time—"

"Oh my God!"

"DON'T MAKE ME GIVE THIS SPEECH TO KARIN AND YUZU!"

Shoving his old man aside, Ichigo hurried out into the corridor, his gait quickening. "LEAVING NOW."

"AT LEAST TRY TO HAVE A CHILD OF THE OPPOSITE SEX; THAT WAY THEY CAN MARRY AND WE CAN INHERIT THE HOSPITAL—"

In a desperate attempt to escape his father's antics, Ichigo bypassed the living room entirely, not in the mood to deal with the teasing that would undoubtedly await there. Instead, he made a sharp turn for the kitchen, eager to grab a cool, calming glass of water, only to find Rukia perched atop the counter, cross-legged, munching on some leftover popcorn.

Of course. Of course. Because why would I not run into the most inconvenient person possible at this precise time?

Pinching the bridge of his nose and shutting his eyes, Ichigo addressed her. "Please tell me you didn't hear—"

Rukia let out a guffaw that plainly stated: You wish. "Hear what? That Isshin yearns to be a grandfather?"

Sighing, Ichigo opened his eyes again, meeting her smirk head-on with one of his own, while she continued to chew ostentatiously, one slipper dangling off her bobbing foot.

"Guess that would require you getting yourself a wife first."

Arms folded before his chest, Ichigo approached her slowly. "Not necessarily. Look at Urahara-san and Yoruichi-san."

"Mmm, yes," Rukia said with a nod, fishing the last few popcorn pieces out of the bucket. "I am positive a certain brother of mine would have nothing to say about that. He would be especially thrilled to hear you're taking a leaf out of Yoruichi-san's book."

Chuckling, Ichigo came to a stop before her, filling the space between her legs. Her eyes followed his movements as he came to rest his hands against the counter on either side of her, his arms bracketing her smaller frame.

Rukia set the bucket aside, making a show out of licking her fingers. He was sorely tempted to help her finish the job, but she soon leaned back, supporting her weight against her extended arms, a challenge written in her heavy-lidded eyes. "I know what all this humming and hawing is really about."

"Oh?" Ichigo said, leaning in.

His efforts to end this conversation were thwarted when she shoved a knee between them, forcing him to keep his distance. "You are never making Captain before me, lowly Third Seat. Best make your peace with that."

"I think it's been well-established I have no issues dating a superior," Ichigo said, and they both knew this to be true. Just as the both knew Rukia's statement was also true, to an extent.

Dealing with Byakuya as his partner's brother was challenging enough; dealing with him as his brother-in-law was a kind of headache that belonged in a league of its own. And as much as he'd tried to conceal it, it hadn't escaped Rukia's notice that he had been harbouring the need to prove himself professionally without her by his side. Then again, the notion of leaving the Thirteenth Division, even for a potential promotion to Captain, was beginning to look less and less appealing every day.

Perhaps she was right.

"Fair enough," Rukia said, pushing herself up until they were breathing the same air. Her eyes softening, she threaded her fingers into his hair, her thumb brushing against his cheekbone. "Any other issues I should know about?"

There was no point feigning ignorance; he had felt Rukia's eyes on him throughout the whole day, every time the cheerful façade slipped, if only for a moment. Ichigo opened his mouth to speak, his eyes downcast as he searched for a way to let her down easy, at least for now, but he never needed it.

"You'll tell me? When you're ready?" Rukia said.

Ichigo bumped his forehead against hers gently, nodding. "I will. Just… not tonight, I—"

"When you're ready."

One day, soon, he promised himself as he turned to kiss the hand that still stroked his face, she would never have to ask that question again.

.-. .-'. .-. .-. .-. .-. .`-. .-.

:::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\

' `-' `.-' `-' `-' `-' `-.' `-' `

"The path… is being closed. Ichigo… the path to a world with no fear. The present world… Soul Society… and Hueco Mundo… they were meant to become one. Life and death, twisted and fused together, they were destined to all be one and the same.

But now… that will likely never happen. You have yourself to thank for that… Ichigo. Sadly, because of all your efforts here… life and death will never lose their current forms, and all those who breathe will continue to pass each and every day by living in fear of death.

For all eternity."

A final rasp, a swan song laced with poison, and the thick, black rain began to fall, fall, fall…

The hand that gripped Zangetsu slackened its hold as the long ribbons of black began to fall apart, ever-diminishing into threads of ebony silk. And he could feel it, the presence, pulse after pulse of waning power rippling through the air, but he knew it would never fade entirely, it would never stop, it would never end.

"For I shall find the future… that one moment in time where each of you feel the greatest amount of joy and happiness… and it is there I shall slaughter you.

So from this point forward… every time you indulge in your own happiness, you shall think of my words. And in that moment, when you do… you will remember my looming shadow… the terror of death I now promise you.

For all eternity."

Like a snake, slithering away to safe haven to devour its own tail and begin the cycle anew, it was retreating. The spindly fingers began to relinquish their hold on the blade one by one, each scattering into a thousand particles like ashes in the wind, the ashes whence it would be reborn again and again and again.

…No more.

His hand shot out, clamping down atop the dissolving arm. A thousand pupils contracted and zeroed in on him, the tatters of their existence suspended in mid-air, a corona of black, and in its center there was only he.

"We… are not done."

And as he mustered every scrap of strength he had left, he watched the swirls of black pull back toward the center, reconstruct. For all their alienness, there was something very human in those eyes as they shot him a warning look, cautioned him not to go any further.

Even they were not immune to fear, and like all cornered animals, once trapped, their only recourse…

…was to fight back.

"Can't seem to do anything right today."

"GO FRICKIN' FIND HER FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!"

"I… cannot be the only one who made it."

"Rukia! It's been a while!"

"You'll tell me? When you're ready?"

"You seen Kazui?"

"Geez, is a wnder any of us eer made it past infancy!"

"Rukia, u seen Kazui?"

"GO FRKIN' TELL HER WHN U'RE READY"

"Icannot betheonlyone who's— ready?"

"It'sawonderIcan'tseemtodoanythingrighttodayI'lltellherwhenI'mready."

The scream died in his throat before it could make it past his lips, his lungs seizing with the breath that froze solid in his chest, the shock to his system too severe to even register as his mind flooded with possibility, a hurricane of information he could not parse or make flood of and he was hurricaning the probabilities dying in his lungs no lips no mind no future drowning in the future of his chest and it was all he could do to hold on to a last shred of consciousness before the black whirlpool swallowed him whole.

.-. .-'. .-. .-. .-. .-. .`-. .-.

:::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\

' `-' `.-' `-' `-' `-' `-.' `-' `

"Kurosaki! KUROSAKI! What the hell were you thinking? You had him! One blow, that's all it would've taken! He was already half-way gone—"

"No."

"What do you mean no? This isn't the time to be petulant, we have to—"

"I can't— I won't… It can't end like this."

"Like what?"

"Every way we do this…"

"It always falls on you."

"…I said no. This isn't how it's going to end. This isn't what we fought for."

"Kurosaki, wait! Listen— LISTEN TO ME."

"We are not going to survive this, Ishida."

.-. .-'. .-. .-. .-. .-. .`-. .-.

:::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\

' `-' `.-' `-' `-' `-' `-.' `-' `

JUNE 4TH, 2012 A.D., KUROSAKI RESIDENCE, KARAKURA TOWN, JAPAN – MIDNIGHT

Shedding her nebulous veil, the crescent moon slipped out into the sky, brandishing her horns. Out in the small front yard, Ichigo leaned back against the wall and let her light illuminate his face.

The ache in his temple throbbed in sync with his heartbeat, and Ichigo closed his eyes, repeating the three word mantra in his mind in the hopes that he could will it into reality.

It's over. It's over. It's over.

Was it, though? Would it ever truly be? Or was he cursed to live to the end of his days in fear, waiting for the day when every hard-earned victory, every dream realized, every beautiful memory made would be torn out of his grasp?

Could he even count it as a victory? If fear continued to dominate his life, creeping in the shadows behind every moment of doubt, could he ever honestly say he had won?

His thoughts were cut short when the doors to the patio slid open and out came Urahara-san. Ichigo's immediate assumption was that Urahara-san had been sent out to check up on him, but he merely gave him a nod in acknowledgment and dug his hand into the inside pocket of his haori.

"This is a familiar setting," Urahara-san said, pulling out his pipe and a matchbox.

Ichigo had an inkling as to what he was referring to, but made no comment as Urahara-san passed by him and came to lean against the adjacent wall, lighting up his pipe.

"Why the long face, Kurosaki-san?"

"It's nothing," Ichigo said, belatedly realizing his response had come a little too quickly.

It didn't take someone of Urahara-san's perception to discern the lie.

Still, the older man said nothing for the time being, enjoying the first drag of smoke leisurely, which gave Ichigo the opportunity to try and change the subject. "Your kid's weird. Even by your own personal standards," he said, and he knew Urahara-san wouldn't misread this as anything but some well-intended teasing. "Keeps getting weirder every year."

Urahara-san gave a gentle chuckle, a tendril of smoke escaping his lips. "Yes, she is."

His tone was nothing short of adoring, the soft smile painted on his features unlike anything Ichigo had ever seen on the face of his erstwhile mentor. In the eleven years he had known him, Ichigo could only recall a handful of times when he'd been witness to a glimpse of pure, unadulterated frankness from Urahara-san.

And in that moment, it became impossible to contain the mental images of him unmoving –Gone, gone- or broken and hollow –"I… cannot be the only one who made it." He had seen it all, over and over and over again until he could look no longer, until it became easier to count the survivors than spare a second's thought to the garden of bones that spread before his feet.

In that moment, Ichigo's chest swelled with such joy to have him there, alive, before his own two eyes, well and whole and smiling, and the words spilled out of his mouth before he could stop them. "I'm glad I got to meet her."

Beneath the shadow cast by his ever-present hat, Urahara-san's gaze flitted over to him. "So am I," he said.

If he were a betting man, Ichigo might've been willing to risk a fortune that his mentor hadn't lamented the loss of right eye for too long. The eyepatch that now filled the void for what the war had stolen from him only served to add more mystique to his stare, along with the faded scars that ran the length of his cheeks.

In the short silence that followed, Urahara-san never broke eye contact until Ichigo turned away, still unsure as to what to make of the older man's words. Had he just referred to himself, to Ichigo, or both of them? With Urahara-san, he could never be certain. More importantly, he had responded without a moment's pause, without challenging the significance behind Ichigo's words for a second.

If Rukia was the one person in his life capable of discerning that something was wrong within the blink of an eye, Urahara-san was the person who would work out the why equally fast.

And yet he said nothing still, merely tilting his head backward until it gently bumped against the wall. "Day's over," he said, exhaling a trail of smoke. "Do you know…" Urahara-san went on, with the nonchalant attitude of someone discussing the weather. "I've had the strangest feeling of déjà vu hounding me all day long since morning. As though I'd lived through this exact day before, only with deliberate differences, both minor and major."

Ichigo's fingers clenched against the stone beneath his fingertips involuntarily. In the seconds it took for the true meaning of Urahara-san's words to sink in, Ichigo ran the emotional sprint from shock to doubt to relief and back again more than once.

Head whipping toward his mentor, Ichigo was equally surprised to find him wearing a soft grin that was far less playful, but instead betrayed something akin to camaraderie. "You— You, too? How…? Did everyone else—?"

Urahara-san shook his head. "No. If my working theory is correct, the only ones likely to experience this phenomenon are you, myself, Aizen-san and perhaps a few others," he said. "Anyone who stood at the threshold between life and death while you were confronting Yhwach."

There was little reason to contest this: Urahara-san's so-called 'working theories' tended to fall on the side of accuracy far more often than the opposite.

"Were you expecting this?" Ichigo asked.

Urahara-san nodded. "As were you. On some level."

It was no use to question why this conversation hadn't come up over the course of nine years. Ichigo himself had never once shared this knowledge with anyone, save one person. Even if he had known how to put into words something he wasn't certain he even understood, he hadn't dared utter his concerns for fear that they might spring into realization.

"You've been carrying an immense load in silence for nine long years," Urahara-san said, seemingly reading his mind.

"I didn't… I didn't know how to…"

"I'm not chastising you, Kurosaki-san."

"It took me a long time to really understand it, any of it," Ichigo said, turning his gaze over to the dark, spangled sky. "But I knew, even then, I…"

Urahara-san remained silent, allowing him the time to find the words to articulate thoughts and feelings he had never before shared.

"You probably figured it out from day one," Ichigo said, once he'd found his voice again. "Hell, it… it was so blatant even I realized it the moment I saw it, even if I couldn't quite piece it all together perfectly. It was… it was Ishida. That tipped me off. In every single future, every single thread… he was alone."

"Deliberately isolated."

Ichigo turned to face Urahara-san, nodding. "It's because he was Yhwach's successor, wasn't it?"

"Yes. I confess I do not have enough data to back up my theory," Urahara-san said. "But from what I was able to discern through research in later years, the ceremony Ishida-san underwent meant that if any of Yhwach's reiatsu survived to ensure his future return, it would happen through him. I suspect his choice to isolate himself was Ishida-san's way of keeping everyone out of harm's way. Or perhaps he hoped that if he never allowed himself to be truly happy, he might stave off Yhwach's return for good."

There was a wry, almost pitying smirk on Urahara-san's face as he spoke those final words. It might've made Ichigo feel patronized on Ishida's behalf, if he didn't already know the truth: in every universe, every possible future he had seen, Yhwach had never once failed to return. A mere shadow of an existence, but an existence all the same, hounding their steps like a specter until he chose to make his return.

And every single time, it would be on this very day. A day he had relived over and over again for what had felt like an eternity, all within the span of a single breath.

"Do you think he's really gone?" Ichigo asked, hating his own voice for sounding so small and so very terrified, but at this point, he figured there was little he had left to hide from Urahara-san.

In response, the older man slipped his hand into his pocket and retrieved his phone. "Well, if he's not, then he is being terribly rude," he said, one eyebrow arched at the vibrant screen. "It's already eleven past."

Ichigo couldn't help it: he laughed.

"He's gone," Urahara-san said. "You made certain of that a long time ago, when you made the choice to not live in fear."

"I did, though. Just for today. I was terrified."

His admission caught Urahara-san's attention. Aware of the other man's persistent but worried gaze on him, Ichigo slipped his hands into his pockets, head rolling against the wall to stare up at the sky.

"In the other timelines…" he began, trying to find the right words for concepts he wasn't even certain he understood fully. "I can't really say I was ever unhappy, it's just…"

Unbidden, the various scenes of domestic bliss came to him. The image of a doting wife, of a brown-eyed boy, sometimes a girl. Like image cutouts lifted out of an instructional manual on picture-perfect happiness, because really, what more could one ask for in life? And never mind the constant, nagging sensation that something about the scenery wasn't quite right, that something was amiss, like a splinter in his mind that only pushed in deeper the more he refused to acknowledge it.

"Something always felt… wrong. And today… Today I… I was reminded I haven't felt that way since. Not once. I didn't even realize what day it was until—"

Rukia in her flowing dress. The one constant in every single timeline. The converging point of a million separate lives. The wind making her hair dance across her face, her broad smile, her glistening eyes, her crossed arms, the slim, fluttering sundress Ishida made for her. Like the one he'd gifted her with a long time ago, on the day of their departure from Soul Society.

"I've decided to… stay in Soul Society."

"Until…" Ichigo trailed off, never voicing the end of that sentence. "The second I did, I was terrified. Not even of Yhwach, to tell you the truth. Well, partly, I suppose. I was mostly scared that… that I'd start to feel that way again. Like something was constantly out of place, like I'd… like I'd made all the wrong choices."

Ichigo turned to face Urahara-san once more.

"What do you think it is, about this day?" he said. "Why did Yhwach always choose today of all days to appear? Somehow, I don't think this was ever meant to be Ishida's happiest day ever. Not even in this life."

"I wouldn't say the happiest," Urahara-san said. "But I can tell you from experience that today is a very, very happy day for him, indeed."

As always, Urahara-san spoke with the confidence of a man who knew more than his interlocutor did, and for once, Ichigo was curious enough to ask, albeit wordlessly.

"That would be telling, Kurosaki-san," he said, smirking at the frown on Ichigo's features. "Don't worry; I'm sure you'll find out soon enough. And if you're still unconvinced Yhwach will not be returning, you should know I have already lived past the happiest day of my life. I can assure you there were no unexpected guests. Still, Ishida-san's personal happiness would certainly outrank mine, in an alleged hit list."

Ichigo watched Urahara-san give his pipe a very ostentatious tap before his eyes bored into Ichigo's.

"You took quite a gamble, choosing to go down this path instead of accepting any other when Yhwach's defeat was still possible in many of them."

And there it was. The reason he had never once spoken of his experience to anyone else, not even Rukia, not his father, nor Urahara-san. He didn't think anyone would ever quite understand, not unless they'd seen what he had seen.

"I suppose you think that was irresponsible," Ichigo said, hanging his head, but mentally preparing himself to defend his choice, no matter what the rebuttal.

"No. Not in the least."

This time, Ichigo was convinced he'd heard wrong. His eyes searching for the older man beseechingly, he looked for any sign of a lie on his features, but found none. Urahara Kisuke, the man prepared to do anything for the greater good, had nothing to criticize about the risk Ichigo had chosen to take on the backs of everyone he knew and loved.

"It takes courage to sacrifice one's personal happiness to ensure everyone else's safety," Urahara-san said. "But it also takes courage to know when it's time to fight back, to reject the reality you're presented with and fight for a better world."

Still lost for words, all Ichigo could do was stare in shock.

Urahara-san let out a chuckle. "Ahh, if only Aizen-san could hear me now," he said, lips upturned as he cleaned out his pipe. "Though to be fair, I don't think he ever quite understood why a world where life and death lose all meaning could never be the utopia he envisioned. He and Yhwach had that in common. And in my defense, I did try to create a better world… once. But I didn't try hard enough. Not until you came along."

Ichigo felt the sudden need to say something profound, something worthy of Urahara-san's praise of him, something worthy of what this man had come to mean to him, but his mentor never gave him the chance. Pocketing his pipe, he pushed himself off the wall and headed for the patio doors.

As he brushed past him, Ichigo prepared himself to say goodnight, but Urahara-san's hand landed on his shoulder, forcing him to make eye-contact again.

"They will never know, what it took for you to make this decision," Urahara-san said, and in that moment, Ichigo saw it, crystal clear, the gaze of someone who understood precisely what he'd been through. "I saw it all, just like you did. Timelines where I survived, others where I did not, many of which were… quite frankly all the better for my absence," he said, glancing indoors for a split second. Ichigo didn't have to turn around to know who he was looking at.

"I was never forced to choose," he went on. "And neither were you, but you still did. You watched your future split into a million different threads and it is not shameful to admit you sometimes wonder what choosing a different path might've been like. Or even quietly mourn for the loss of things that will now never come to pass."

The brown-eyed boy.

The girl with orange-colored pigtails that reached down to her waist.

A quiet life.

With a grin, Urahara-san gave him a pat and withdrew his hand. "You should ask Inoue-san to explain the concept of the multiverse to you sometime; I imagine she will make a grand production of it. And at any rate, I think it might help make your heart feel a little lighter, knowing that there are possible universes where your other selves are there to protect and love the things you found difficult to leave behind," he said. "The important question to ask yourself, Kurosaki-san, is this: was your choice worth it? To you. Right here, right now. In this life."

Tearing his eyes away from Urahara-san's cool, clever gaze, Ichigo felt his irresistibly drawn indoors.

To Chad, who would never have to break his promise again to make ends meet.

To Tatsuki, who had realized her lifelong dream.

To Inoue and Ishida, who always held hands under the table and stole doe-eyed looks at each other when they thought no-one could see, who had made choices that would never lead to a particularly wealthy life, but a nevertheless undeniably happy one.

And then his eyes sought out the one person they'd been looking for all along, and he could've sworn she sensed his gaze, she must have, because her gentle, violet eyes met his and she smiled until her cheeks were dotted with soft dimples, and he knew, he could see, the bright future that awaited her, the inauguration he wouldn't miss this time around, and there really was no other answer to Urahara-san's question, than:

"Absolutely."

.-. .-'. .-. .-. .-. .-. .`-. .-.

:::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\

' `-' `.-' `-' `-' `-' `-.' `-' `

"Kurosaki! KUROSAKI! Are you awake? Are you hurt?"

"No, I… I'm f—"

"What the hell were you thinking? You had him! One blow, that's all it would've taken! He was already half-way gone—"

"No."

"What do you mean no? This isn't the time to be petulant, we have to—"

"I can't— I won't… It can't end like this."

"Like what?"

"Every way we do this… you end up alone."

"What in the blazes are you even talking about? Are you sure you're not—?"

"I SAW IT. The Almighty's power... I had it, just for a moment. And I saw it all. Every possible way, every possible future. It always falls on you."

"…So what?"

"So what? SO—"

"YEAH, SO WHAT? If that's what it takes."

"…I said no. This isn't how it's going to end. This isn't what we fought for."

"Kurosaki, wait! Listen— LISTEN TO ME."

"NO. We are not going to survive this, Ishida. We didn't come all this way to simply survive. We are going to finish this now and end this cycle of fear for good. And then… then we are going to live."

And thus fell the sword of fate…

.-. .-'. .-. .-. .-. .-. .`-. .-.

:::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\::::::::.\

' `-' `.-' `-' `-' `-' `-.' `-' `

Kurosaki Ichigo / 26 years old

Hair Color /Orange

Eye Color /Brown

Occupation / Shinigami

A/N: You ever play one of those games that feature several endings, depending on your actions throughout the game? Well, that's the main idea here, and the reason why this prologue is just so damn happy (to an almost unrealistic degree) for everyone involved: this is the flawless ending! It was meant to serve as both a tease for Yhwach's return (the happiest day of their lives and all) and as an eerie déjà vu to the reader, like the one the characters themselves experience. Of course, not everything in our characters' lives is perfect as you will discover in future instalments, but this was just about as perfect a day as they could get, with all of them being at a happy, fulfilling point in their lives, and gathered together to celebrate their friendship.

Why 9 years later instead of 10? Because the London Olympics (where Women's Boxing first became an Olympic sport) took place in 2012 and the TYBW arc ends in 2003. The part about the Soul Sperm meeting the Soul Egg is a direct reference to Bleach Lists, which, if you haven't already checked out on tumblr, you really, really should.

What happened with the Soul King and the balance of the worlds? How did the nakama choose their respective careers? What changed in Soul Society? How did Ichigo end up in the 13th Division? How did Aizen get locked back in the Muken? For answers to all these questions, stay tuned :) Flashbacks are incoming. Obviously, that part about Yhwach's defeat, the different timelines and the decision Ichigo made deserves its own chapter, so I'm not hand-waving it and leaving it at that, don't worry. I just wanted to give you a small taste so you could understand the basic logic behind this story, then explore it fully when the time comes.

And yes, that includes a proper final battle that takes into consideration Kisuke's 'final' words, among other things.

And if you came here from tumblr, expecting to see two blond lil' shits instead of the little girl at the start, worry not! I'm getting there. Can't have one of them running around without his buddy, now, can we? ;) Shinya and Shion will be joining the cast soon enough, when it's time for them to come.

A/N #2: Only adding this due to some of the response I've gotten for this so far, which is generally positive, but certain people have been pointing out that they have trouble believing X or Y happened, considering how 684 ended. In case this hasn't been made clear enough by both my opening and closing A/N, this is not the BEGINNING of the story. What's coming in future chapters is going to explain exactly how all the characters got to where they are. So feel free to offer some CC, but give me some time to develop the story first, all right? :)