A/N: MisSent here. For those of you who are joining for the first time, welcome! This work is a reboot of an incredibly old, unfinished story. If you want to give it a go, look up The Weight of Thy Sin. For those of you who are rejoining me, hi again! I hope you'll be patient with me as we restart this journey on another note.

Chapter 1

Rain. Why is it always raining?

Oh. This dream again.

"…"

A sharp pain in his forehead. He opens his eyes to darkness. No, not darkness, just…a little darker. Shadow, creeping along his peripheral vision.

The weight is familiar. A welcome heaviness. It pulls him together. Grounds him, gives him purpose. Direction.

"—osaki."

He looks up. Someone else stands before him. Who—?

Small and battered, petite and ragged. Breath coming in gasps, one arm hanging limply at her side. The red rain paints her face crimson. Or is it the blood on her face that reddens the falling rain?

It doesn't matter. He knows what he must do. She is responsible. She must pay. Her emerald eyes narrow. Defiance flits across her face, quickly replaced by fear.

He will have his—.

"Kurosaki!"

Ichigo jerked awake, another pellet of chalk finding its mark squarely on his forehead. A collective chuckle rippled through the classroom as he pulled himself together, quickly wiping away the faintest trail of drool from the corner of his mouth. The teacher folded his arms across his chest, a disapproving scowl working its way through the aged creases of his face. "Have a good time in Wonderland?"

Ichigo mumbled an apology and sat up. Whether this satisfied the teacher or not he had no idea, but it did have its intended effect: the teacher unfolded his arms and resumed droning at the lectern about the historical intricacies of Japanese government.

The second his back was turned, Ichigo slumped again and stared out the window, lazily resting his head on an arm.

Summer had snuck up on him from around the corner, and thanks to his activities in Soul Society the previous semester, he'd found himself in dire need of remedial classes, a realization that had been equal parts depressing and frustrating.

Three months. That's how long it was since Ichigo had recovered from his assault on Soul Society, how long it had been since his life had switched from daring rescues and survival at all costs to worrying about how he would pass math without having to cheat.

Though he didn't at all miss having to fight for his life while constantly on the run, he couldn't help but desire some excitement in this otherwise dull daily routine.

His eyes wandered to the girl sitting just next to the window, whose dark hair reflected the bright midday sun's light in deep shades of violet, and frowned when she made eye-contact with him and waved over-enthusiastically, drawing the attention of a few of her neighboring students.

Rukia had returned around a month ago, voluntarily and with only one string attached: she had to resume her post in the town, which meant regular reports back to Soul Society, hardly comparable to a death sentence. He was glad she had come back with such ease; it had meant confirmation that his dear friend was safe, a great relief to himself and his friends.

But this quiet, this state of peace, felt…uneasy. Ichigo didn't consider himself one who craved violence, but his brief foray into the bloodshed involved in heated battle had given him some food for thought regarding the true nature of peace. Peace had to be fought for, had to be wrested away from conflict, and he was starting to feel as though any form of concord that lasted too long meant something was looming over the horizon, just waiting for the right moment to collapse on top of every precariously placed piece of fragile peacetime.

The revelation of Aizen's machinations played a pretty big part in this unease; if Ichigo understood correctly, Aizen, the fox-eyed Captain (Gin, was it?), and the blind Captain had been part of the Shinigami Corps for such a long time that this betrayal had come out of left field entirely. Ichigo had no doubt that up until that point, no one would have ever suspected such a sinister plot originating from within the Captains' ranks. Which led to a self-sustaining doubt: were there any other traitors they weren't yet aware of?

The dreams didn't help either. A recurring reverie, borderline nightmare about someone needing to be killed had been plaguing his restless nights. The bits and pieces that stayed with him past the sleepy hours of the morning were nonsensical, difficult to put together in any useful way beyond 'these dreams are annoying.'

A crumpled piece of paper landed squarely on his nose, causing him to jerk back in surprise a second time in far too few minutes. He glanced daggers at Rukia's turned back, knowing full well that she was the culprit and was merely feigning ignorance.

He unraveled the note.

Quit looking like such a grouch!

The note ended with a small graphic of what Ichigo could only surmise was supposed to be a cute bunny. Chappy, from what Ichigo remembered about Rukia's excited babbling about rabbits and Soul Candy. He resisted the incredible temptation to throw it right back, knowing his luck was not nearly good enough for that to go unnoticed, and instead crumpled it up and stowed it in his pocket.

He tried to pay attention, picking up his pencil and listening for anything particularly important he felt he'd have to write down.

Just a few hours to go…he groaned inwardly.

"Do you ever smile?"

Ichigo said nothing, choosing instead to take a substantial bite out of his sandwich.

"No, seriously, do you?"

He made sure to chew slowly and overexaggerated every component of the action.

"Because at this point I'm convinced you don't have the actual muscles in your face that make the smiling motion." This was punctuated by a hard poke to the side of Ichigo's cheek.

He swallowed the half-chewed mass of food and forced a grin, though it felt admittedly closer to a grimace than any kind of smile. Rukia visibly flinched and leaned away, retracting the offending finger. "Ugh."

Inoue laughed a little at their interaction. "Kuchiki-san, I don't think he likes when you do that," she said as she pantomimed jabbing a finger.

"But…I'm curious," Rukia said quietly, clearly itching to poke and prod Ichigo's cheek again. He warned her quickly, "I'll bite you." Mentally, he thanked Inoue for the save. He'd wanted to have lunch in peace, and Rukia's borderline interrogations were starting to wear him thin.

"I do agree with her, though," Inoue piped up. "You don't really seem to smile, Kurosaki-kun. Have you…forgotten how to?"

He retracted his silent thanks as Rukia continued her tirade about his non-smiling countenance, encouraged by Inoue's reinforcement. "Chad? A little help here, buddy?" Ichigo said, exasperation plain.

The quiet giant replied without looking up from the little bird perched on his leg, "They have a point."

Rukia and Inoue both nodded vigorously in unison. "See? Even he thinks so!"

"Traitor," Ichigo hissed. Chad shrugged apologetically and continued to feed the bird, wanting no part of the inane conversation. Ichigo sighed inwardly.

As he steeled himself against Rukia and Inoue's long-winded admonishments about how not smiling would somehow reduce his lifespan, he felt something tickle the base of his skull. He recognized the sensation resultant of his instinct for danger, long since silent following his departure from Soul Society. It buzzed a little more insistently, at which Ichigo stood, silencing both Inoue and Rukia. While Inoue seemed a bit taken aback by the abrupt motion, Rukia seemed to catch on almost immediately.

"What is it?" she asked, a hand already in her pocket, probably fingering the contours of her Soul Candy dispenser.

"I don't know, but I get the feeling something is about to go down," Ichigo murmured, Shinigami badge in hand and ready for use.

Not a second later, a lowing cry echoed in the distance, sending a chill up Ichigo's spine. It had been a while since he'd last heard the noise, but it was unmistakable.

"Rukia?" Ichigo asked as he squeezed the wooden sigil, pulling free of his physical body and drawing his weapon. "You ready?"

"I've got a direction," she said quickly, already out of her gigai and checking her phone. "Let's go!"

"Take care of my body, will you?" Ichigo called back as the two of them leapt away towards the reading on Rukia's spirit phone. The gikon in Rukia's body waved back very enthusiastically, as Chad and Inoue quickly and quietly got to work. He grimaced as he refocused his attention to the task at hand. He'd likely never get used to seeing himself dragged away like that.

The roar of the Hollow came again, sharpening Ichigo's focus. It was closer this time, and much louder.

"You getting a reading on this thing? It sounds pretty big, going off how freaking loud it is," Ichigo called to Rukia.

She shook her head and stowed her phone. "Something keeps jamming the sensor. We'll have to do this the old-fashioned way."

It didn't take them very long to reach the Hollow's location. Sure enough, the creature was large, much larger than the last one Ichigo had fought. It crawled on six legs, its body pinched where the legs emerged. A mask comprised of a familiar shade of white adorned its unseen face, decidedly arachnoid in appearance. For all its mass it simply looked like an overgrown spider.

"Ugh. Let's get this over with," Ichigo said, brandishing Zangetsu. He leapt forward, ready to swing the giant cleaver into the Hollow—.

—and was instead thrown back with almighty force, crash-landing on a nearby rooftop. Rukia instantly backpedaled and took cover on the same rooftop upon seeing Ichigo knocked away so easily.

It hit me? How?

Ichigo groaned as he got back to his feet, still smoldering where he'd been struck. A quick once-over made it clear to him that it hadn't been the Hollow that flung him away. It was rooted in place, wracked with violent convulsions as a stream of black electricity coursed into its bizarre, insectoid mask. Arcs of lightning snapped from the Hollow to the surrounding environment, narrowly missing the two Shinigami.

"What on earth…?" Rukia murmured, brow furrowed and eyes darting, searching for the source of the lightning. From where Ichigo stood, the stream of electricity was visible, and it was clear that its origin was somewhere within one of the dark alleyways, but it was impossible to see who or what was generating it without risking being speared by an errant bolt of lightning.

After a few agonizingly long seconds of the snapping, crackling sounds of electrocution, the torrent ceased, and the Hollow immediately fell to the ground, a sizzling heap of dead flesh and bone. It slowly disintegrated, its remains bleeding away into clouds of dust.

Ichigo and Rukia got to their feet slowly, wary of the unseen assailant. Rukia stepped forward first, calling authoritatively, "Show yourself!"

A single chip of light glinted in the dark of the alley at her command. Suddenly Ichigo felt it: a heavy pall had fallen upon him, its iron grip weighing him down like…chains. This wasn't reiatsu, the texture and consistency was wrong. But it wasn't unlike the weight of someone's spiritual pressure bearing down on him, like the time he'd first met Kenpachi.

Rukia shuddered visibly, and Ichigo realized that the aura was hitting her harder than it was him, and flared his reiatsu with what limited control he had in order to shield her from the deluge. It seemed to be a marginally helpful move, but it was clear that Rukia still felt the weight.

The single luminescent mote bobbed as it moved closer, out of the dark, and was accompanied by the appearance of a young man, whose body dripped from the shadows with fluid purpose. He looked to be a little older than Ichigo, though not by much. His dress was very utilitarian, consisting of a simple shirt and jacket with worn jeans.

What really caught Ichigo's attention was his face. His face was physically young, but there was an uncharacteristic hardness to his expression, too many creases in the little patch of forehead that was visible through his long bangs, too cold a gaze in his visible eye.

Ichigo felt a sudden chill ride up his spine. Something about him was just wrong. Everyone he'd fought until now had exerted some kind of force, a projection of their will. Kenpachi, for all his brutal, barbaric ferocity, had still exuded a pure aura, one that made it clear that he simply wanted to kill you or die trying. The same went for Byakuya; pure pride had been the focus of his battle. This person exuded nothing. Where Ichigo should have been able to pick out some kind of motive, some emotion, any kind of hint that would help him understand exactly who he was about to face, there was a tangible void.

"Rukia," he breathed, gripping Zangetsu tightly. Rukia heeded the unspoken warning and took up her stance.

"Identify yours—."

Ichigo detected movement, but couldn't track it. All he saw was that the mysterious youth had been down there, but was now somehow up here, right in front of them. He reeled back, Zangetsu ready to block the incoming attack…which never came.

The stranger turned his eye on Rukia, who stood her ground under the piercing gaze and repeated herself, this time to completion. "Identify yourself!"

He rumbled in response, "You speak?"

The petite Shinigami shared a confused glance with her orange compatriot, before answering hesitantly. "Obviously. Now identify yourself. I won't ask a second time," she brandished her weapon a little more insistently.

Something sour corrupted the otherwise empty aura, which Ichigo picked up on immediately but could not quite comprehend. All he knew was that it was not exactly indicative of an invitation to be friends and bake cookies, and that was enough for the alarm bells to start going off in his head.

"Get back!" Ichigo bellowed, loosing a stream of blue-white reiatsu into the stranger. Rukia immediately leapt into the air to avoid the blast, muttering an incantation in the meantime.

If the sudden attack had hurt him, the stranger did not show it. He remained where he stood, a single hand outstretched and smoldering from blocking the primitive Getsuga. Ichigo then noticed the greyish bandages swathed around both hands. Judging from how undamaged they were after direct contact with a Getsuga, he assumed that they were not meant for healing, but for a combative purpose. Maybe it was armor?

He shook the assumptions away and decided to seize the initiative, dashing forward whilst swinging Zangetsu in a wide arc, intending to catch the stranger's attention—.

A sharp pain in his back sent him reeling into a wall, where he crumpled with a loud crunch. Some of the bricks had cracked upon impact, and Ichigo felt the point of impact throb with pain. He stood up, attempting to gain his bearings, when another loud sound snapped him out of it. Looking up, he saw Rukia grimacing and clutching her sword arm, which hung limply from her shoulder. The stranger floated freely next to her, his right arm raised overhead for a hammer strike.

Ichigo sprang into action, kicking off the wall he'd crashed into with all his might. "No!" he yelled, willing himself to move as fast as he could. He managed to swing Zangetsu into the path of the stranger's overhead blow, and gawked as Zangetsu bounced off his arm harmlessly.

Swallowing his surprise, he swung Zangetsu around behind him, using the momentum of the deflection to fuel his next attack. Perhaps it had been a fluke—.

No. Zangetsu stopped mid-swing, its bladed edge resting against the stranger's outstretched hand.

…Unarmed?!

The figure gripped Zangetsu and intoned, "Corruption, Discharge."

At his words, a wreath of black electricity snapped to life around his hand and coursed into Zangetsu and, by extension, Ichigo.

"Ichigo!" Rukia called out, swinging her undamaged arm uselessly at their assailant, missing completely and receiving another harsh strike to the abdomen for her trouble. Winded, she fell to the roof of the building below her.

Ichigo gritted his teeth in agony; electricity surged through his entire body. Every muscle was drawn taut, every limb paralyzed from the over-contraction, and even breathing was beginning to burn.

"You would do well to bury the threats," he said, loudly enough for Rukia to hear. All the while, his gaze never broke from Ichigo, who saw now that his cold expression hardly changed, even during this one-sided battle.

The vile current finally ceased, and Ichigo felt the rigor mortis melt away, leaving his body limp and with a consistency like jelly. He fell to the roof next to Rukia with a crash, struggling to move his treacherous limbs.

The stranger landed just beside him, hands in pockets and still wearing the same blank expression. Rukia weakly tried to brandish her Zanpakuto with her off-hand, and only managed to swing the blade into his arm with a meek clack. He made no attempt to dodge or even block the broken swing.

He spoke quietly, but with undeniable authority. "Stand down."

Rukia clutched her arm, her sword still clutched in hand, but chose to heed the figure's command. She lowered her weapon and straightened, grimacing as she continued to recover from her short-lived incapacitation.

A few seconds passed as the figure surveyed the two Shinigami. Then he spoke, his words concise and to the point. "You fight those things?" He jerked his head back towards the space where the Hollow had died.

Ichigo and Rukia shared another quick look, before Rukia nodded silently.

"For what purpose?"

Ichigo answered quickly. "To protect the innocent in this city," he said, trying his best to word the answer as vaguely as possible. If this young man was an enemy, it would probably be best to have a trump card he didn't know about, like reinforcements from Soul Society. Rukia nodded almost imperceptibly at Ichigo's words. Apparently she'd been thinking the same thing.

The stranger's eye narrowed. For a couple long minutes, he simply stared at Ichigo, as if trying to see through his eye and into his brain. If he'd noticed Ichigo's lie of omission, he didn't indicate it.

"We will meet again," he said quietly, before disappearing once more. The weight of the man's energy lifted, and Ichigo let out a breath he'd been unconsciously holding, looking at Rukia when she did the exact same thing. She immediately began working on her wounds with kido, and soon enough, began working to restore the tone in Ichigo's muscle as well. She worked in silence, and Ichigo felt no need to fill it with words he did not have. He knew both of them were thinking the same thing:

So begins something new.