I wrote this three years ago when I was severly depressed - I hated my life and I hated myself. But I found some small comfort in youtube and Bleach and thus this was born. I never finished it then as life changed for the better, but I reread it tonight and decided that it was time to give it a proper ending. This one-shot goes hand in hand with the song Last Man Standing by Markus Schulz, as I listened to it alot while I wrote this back in the days, so I only thought it appropriate to give it a small place in this story as well.

So many things have changed since those days three years ago, but as I reread this piece of work, I can still see some of those feelings I harbored between the words. Maybe that's how life works, maybe it isn't just about a straight timeline, but an ever growing, knitted web. The faults we make will always remain in it, visible if we truly look, but they will also fade away in the bigger picture as the web grows wider.

I wish you all the best,

- Theoris

If everybody felt the same and would come to me

If everything I had before, I could be the beginning

If all we knew had gone away, you'd call me the last man standing

And over the edge we will drift away

.

He woke by the thunder; the force of nature crying out louder than he possibly could and drowned all that escaped from his thin lips in a moment. As he quickly looked up, the poor creature found that he had no time to run for a shelter before the flood of a million teardrops grazed his face, hair and body - leaving no spot unmarked by its ruthlessness.

The hollow lowered his golden gaze and held out a hand to watch the heavy rain wash over his open palm. He followed the paths of the drops for a while before he slowly closed his fist, as if there was a tiny hope of being able to crush and completely erase the frustrated sensation that kept greeting his skin. He lowered his arm to rest at his side again, hands in his lap as he looked to the dark sky once more.

"It's rainin', King."

He knew why, of course. He had sought out Ichigo enough times before to know what the nasty weather meant by now. Not that it was such a surprise really in the hollow's opinion – no one could have asked for such a screaming downpour whilst being happy and content with life.

"What's it now?"

Usually he didn't bother to even ask, so the impulse was interesting enough to let him go with it to see where it would lead to. Usually the rain would come to life and die out all on its own, without the hollow's interference. Besides, the few times he had tried to interrupt and scold Ichigo for bringing forth such a monsoon without any concern whatsoever for the poor beings that tried to nap in his inner world, the teenager had just told him to shut it and then completely ignored any more from the hollow. To say it was bothersome was an understatement.

Of course he knew that when one was being sad it was a lot harder to think about others well-being at the same time. And since it didn't affect those whom Ichigo counted as friends or family, the hollow would have even less of a chance to ever being heard out. He knew that if Ichigo had the power to decide the matter on his own, he would have gotten rid of the hollow without a second thought.

The opposite of Kurosaki snorted bitterly. He would never admit it to the stubborn brat – at least not until he started to show some appreciation of his inner company – but he cared whether Ichigo lived or died. He had always done that. Not only because his existence was bound to the boy, but because he genuinely cared. At least enough to acknowledge that he did. Sure, it was always good fun to agitate the poor guy, tease him and give him vague answers just for the look on his confused face. And threatening to devour him was the highlight of the hollow's day. It was a good challenge for him to always try to outdo his latest go at it – and having Ichigo run a cold sweat was always worth all the work.

But yes, he did care in his own hollow way. He cared so much that even his subconscious had urged him to speak up to the teenager this time. Now he knew why too – something was off with the rain, it wasn't supposed to be this stormy. The wind had picked up in speed as well and shoved the hollow hard as he sat all open on a skyscraper. He frowned as the water fell down in his eyes.

"King!" he raised his voice, letting it be known even though the water did its best to drown it out.

"What's the matter, King?" He waited several seconds before he added with a little more annoyed tone: "I know you can hear me!"

There was nothing. Ichigo ignored him for all he was worth apparently. Or maybe he couldn't answer. He should be able to unless he was dead and he couldn't be since the inner world was all in place and stable (or at least it felt so even though most of the hollow's vision was now blurry and grey from the storm).

This was horrible. No, it was worse than that – this was a complete disaster. The pale one shivered as a particularly strong wind blew past, pressing his wet clothing tighter against his small frame. This was hell and Ichigo had no idea. He never had.

"Hey, Ichigo! Seriously, this sucks so fuckin' hard! Turn off the tap, will you?"

This time there was a small reaction and the hollow immediately tensed up, ready not to miss any of it. He waited for the inevitably lashing out that was Ichigo's trademark answer for this sort of thing, but it never came. Instead he caught on to the most silent, half-hearted whimper of a suggestion to let him be.

The hollow was stunned. What was this weak-willed creature that rode on his back, demanding his power and beating monsters to pulps? Where was his King and who killed him to replace him with this shadow of a being? He couldn't believe his ears.

"What did you just say to me?"

Silence greeting his question this time.

"Answer me, King!"

He did, but in the exact same manner. No anger, no fear; just a cold, dead tone. Lacking all point and conviction it usually had.

The hollow wouldn't say that he was worried, but something was obviously very bad. And it didn't help that Ichigo wouldn't even let the tiniest hint through to him either. Could something have happened to one of his friends? His family? Maybe it was a new, overwhelming threat that had appeared… but no, if that was it he wouldn't be sitting here all wet and left out. He tried once more.

"Talk to me, Ichigo. What is upsettin' you so?"

No answer at all this time. It should be annoying to him like it was any other time, but right now an unfamiliar feeling of sadness embraced him instead. So he just sat there, becoming colder by the minute but making to effort to get up and trying to find anything close to a shelter; he was way too soaked already.

Time went by with no change at all and the hollow was feeling more depressed by the second. He stopped thinking and just felt everything that fought its way into his mind. The guilt was overwhelming; tearing up his insides and pouring tears of pure salt in all of his wounds. He felt like crying so badly, to ease some of the building tension and psychically just letting it all out, but he couldn't. Or maybe, somewhere deep in his mind he knew that it wouldn't help any longer anyway, since this was something beyond tears and screams.

The hollow felt a shiver of panic through his veins. He didn't want to sit here in all the feelings without doing anything, but he couldn't figure out a single thing with appeal to do instead anymore. This was possibly the worst feeling of them all.

"Just make the rain stop."

He knew there were slim chances of Ichigo even hearing him in the downpour, but he had to ask. Even though he didn't felt like he was granted the privilege to ask anything of anybody right now.

"Please, King. I hate this."

Everything spun around him, so he closed his eyes; seeking redemption in the darkness but no one but himself greeted him there. And he hated himself too. It was all his fault. No one could say anything else and not be called a liar. They should throw him away and bury him alive and it still wouldn't make up for anything. Oh, how he wanted it all to end, he was so damn sick of these thoughts reappearing day after day, month after month, year after year. Maybe he should just end it. Yes, he really should. But no, if he did that he would get away from all the pain, and he didn't deserve that. What to do, he needs to do something, anything, now now NOW…!

"Make it stop…" the hollow whimpered out and clutched his head in his hands, shaking it in mental agony before he abruptly stopped. Make it stop? Wait a minute.

The pale one looked up to the cloudy sky as something even darker clouded his vision. Make what stop exactly? The rain, or this stream of feelings that clearly didn't belong to him. The hollow clenched his teeth hard and threw a rough punch down into the skyscraper as he half rose to his feet.

"Ichigo, you wimpy sucker! How dare you just throw all of your lame-ass feels straight in my face? I'm so gettin' your hide for this!"

Not that the hollow needed any more conviction to make action of his threat, but it was the whimpering answer that sounded disturbingly much like something close to 'do as you wish' that really drove him over the edge.

"Oh I will," the hollow bit back as he closed his eyes, concentration on raising his Reiatsu to the point where it would guide him out of Ichigo's inner world.

"You can fuckin' count on that, King."

He was so mad by now that he was actually shaking. Something was terribly wrong and incredibly infuriating and the pale copy of the substitute Shinigami wasn't just going to stand idly by and watch the world collapse without even knowing why.

He opened Ichigo's eyes easily enough. Actually, there hadn't been any resistance at all in this overthrowing of the throne and that alone made him frown greatly. The hollow quickly took in the atmosphere. He was lying on the teenager's bedroom floor, all curled up in a ball with his naked arms hugging his legs hard. He ached all over, but with a quick flex scan he concluded that he wasn't actually badly hurt or anything. Aside from a horrible headache and very sore muscles, Ichigo's body felt fine. It did protest severely though when the hollow decided to sit up. How long had Ichigo been here?

"What have you been up to, you silly ass?" he muttered more to himself than to the point of interest. Speaking of; he didn't really know what Ichigo was doing in his inner world right now, but he had a strong feeling.

A powerful wave of pain flared up in his head and he put one colorful hand up to cover his eyes as he waited for it to pass. That's when he felt it; there were raw and rugged spots along his cheeks that stretched when he changes expression. Something was on his face, but it wasn't thick enough to be scratched of. Curious and somewhat annoyed, the hollow in Ichigo's appearance got to his feet and staggered out of the room down the corridor for the restroom. The sight that greeted him in the mirror made his own eyes grow bigger.

Ichigo looked completely awful – that bad that this was probably the worst state the hollow had yet to see him in. The teenager looked like something very heavy and uneven had run him over several times and made long stops over his face in particular. The hollow leaned closer, inspecting the red and swollen areas underneath the eyes as well as the strange texture on his cheeks and lifted a couple of hesitatingly fingers to the worn skin as it dawned upon him. Ichigo had been…crying?

He couldn't believe it. He really couldn't. It was so horribly far from the reality he was used to; Ichigo being rude, headstrong and noisy - full of instinct and conviction. This was the very opposite of his host, the king he'd so often threatened, fought and urged onward. This wasn't even comparable. This couldn't be the same human, surely…?

The hollow just stood there and stared for a long time, trying his best to make sense of the swirling chaos. Something really bad must have happened, that was the only reason for all this - even though Ichigo's rough state was still hard to take in. Something had happened, but what?

His first instinct was to check upon the teenager's family members and it was done easy enough. Ichigo's sore legs bore him to Isshin and the twins rooms in an instant but soon returned to his bedroom when their even and calm breathing had convinced him that they were all out of harm's way. The next possibility was that something had happened to any of Ichigo's friends. The hollow quickly ran over all the Reiatsu's of the ones he could remember as being important to the orangette but found that everyone was separated and probably all sound asleep at their own homes. Nothing seemed out of order here either.

He gazed over at Ichigo's closet and narrowed his eyes. The freeloading Shinigami girl wasn't there this time, he was sure of that. Perhaps…

No, there was another of her silly notes left at his desk, saying something about leaving for a couple of days to return to Soul Society. That wasn't anything to work yourself up for really.

"I don't get you, King," he sighed and roughly sat down on the bedroom floor. He had to regret this quickly as pain shot back from his actions. That's right - those aching limbs. It looked like Ichigo had been in some kind of fight and it didn't look as if he had walked out of it victorious. The hollow raised a hand and felt a particularly sore spot on Ichigo's neck in a form that strongly suggested the shape of fingers.

Feeling his annoyance returning, the hollow got back to his feet and returned to the bathroom to inspect the damage better. Stupid teenager, going all over the place and getting hurt all the fucking time. He couldn't possibly keep an eye on him every god damn minute really. Even hollows needed to rest. Of course he would always feel if Ichigo's life was in danger, but seriously; he could need some breaks as well. And if this is what happened when he had one, if the boy went and got him beaten up on purpose, then…

Well, the fuck did he care for, really. It just felt so completely in vain when Ichigo obviously didn't care himself, the stupid ass.

"You're so fuckin' dumb. You hear that, King? You can look for another retarded horse 'cause I ain't puttin' up with this anymore. You keep fighting so hard to protecting others 'round you and yet you don't give a shit about yourself and it makes me sick..! Who's protecting you, Ichigo? Who's protecting you now?"

Silence kept greeting him. Most likely, Ichigo wasn't really conscious over there in the inner world, however that could work out. The hollow scowled hard back at the youngster in the mirror.

"I'm so fuckin' done with you." He really wished that the teenager had heard him, but even so he had no more to say to him. He really felt done this time. He'd had enough by now and he deserved so much more than what the little shit was handing him.

The hollow wasted no time as he exited the bathroom and headed down the stairs to the hall. On his way towards the front door he stopped by the kitchen to grab something for the grumbling feeling in Ichigo's stomach. With a scowl of disgust the hollow snatched a couple of dried toasts from the counter and headed for the door.

The cool night greeted his for once colorful skin with a gentle breeze that he invited into his lungs with a long, forceful intake. It felt incredible to actually possess a real body again and the hollow had every intention to make the most of it.

He had barely taken more than a couple of steps into the night when he felt something strange in one of his pockets. He grabbed it and found a crumbled piece of yellow paper that only deepened the mystery. The hollow carefully straightened the abused material out and read the black and bold letters on it. It was a date.

Ichigo's counterpart frowned as he tried to make sense of the situation. Was it today's date? He couldn't really tell and even if he could it wouldn't give much away; he didn't know of any important days here in the human realm. Unless…

He shut the door behind him and ran back into the house. On silent but amazingly fast feet he made it up the stairs again and into the Shinigami's room. He could spot the calendar right away since it was hanging right beside the entrance and the hollow ripped it clean of the wall for a better inspection. He placed the uneven scrap of paper over the others, concluding that he had been right all along. But why? Why would Ichigo keep today's date on him? And…

The hollow froze into place as all the pieces hit home. It was the seventeenth of June.

He put the calendar back and returned to the bathroom as he inspected the red and swollen face of his host in the mirror. At once all the bruising and the dried tears made sense. Ichigo had left to join a fight he knew he couldn't win. He had then spent the remainder of the night lying on the floor crying his guts out and hadn't bothered to place a single thing in his empty stomach. Because today was the seventeenth of June. Today was the anniversary of his mother's death.

The silence was deafening. It was a strange and unusual occurrence, but the hollow was at a loss for words for the first time in his existence. He stared into the face he had called dumb only minutes ago, those round brown and swollen red eyes that stared back at him and realized that he wasn't mad anymore. He felt empty, as if Ichigo's pain had just wiped him clean from any possible emotion. It was overwhelming and suffocating at the same time and if he was entirely honest, even a little scary. It felt completely wrong.

So the hollow did the only possible thing he could think of. First he turned on the tap to cold water and drank as much as he dared to and after that he washed the orangette's face carefully and thoroughly.

The bed creaked welcomingly when he crept in and tucked himself in as comfortable as possible before he closed Ichigo's eyes and made way for his king's consciousness to return to its' rightful body again. The hollowed stayed close behind the Shinigami's eyelids and made sure that the dreams that appeared were kind and calm before he left and materialized beside Ichigo's bed. It would take a great strain on his Reiatsu tomorrow for doing this, but the hollow didn't care as he sat down cross-legged beside the bed and rested his elbows on the edge. He would stay here until the teenager woke up, and that was the end of that.

"...and who will protect you, King?", he asked again, more to himself this time as he rested his chin on his arms and tilted his head to the side. There was the beginning of a sad smile in the corner of the hollow's mouth, but no one could have made it out in the darkness even if they had tried.

"Who will protect you?"