Fire crackled. At least, he thought it sounded like fire. With a groan, he attempted to roll onto his side when a voice stopped him.
"Don't. You'll reopen your wounds."
His eyes snapped open. The voice was familiar and it brought a sort of relieved, astonished, and completely joyful feeling. The feelings bounced about inside him, and he strained his head to take a look at the voice's owner. On the other side of the fire was a pale spirit cloaked in all white except for the black ruffles around his neck. His hair was a glowing white, and a black skull mask that seemed to melt with the shadows sat atop the right side of his head; however, the most striking feature was his blue and white eyes. They were piercingly bright and filled with the same relief that seemed to be swirling around in the teen's chest. A single word slipped out of the boy's mouth.
"Zangetsu?"
The spirit made his way toward the orange head, and checked his bandages.
"I've told you before, it's Tensa Zangetsu."
Zangetsu's voice was annoyed, but tinged with amusement. The orange head frowned slightly. His eyebrows furrowed as he tried to remember why the spirit was so familiar. The name, Tensa Zangetsu, reminded him of a thin, black daito, but the name, Zangetsu, reminded him of the spirit currently fussing over him and an old man in a long, ever flowing coat. Yet, he knew that both names could apply to the spirit.
Zangetsu poked and prodded his injuries lightly, and the teen hissed when he prodded his back. The teen suddenly noticed how much his body ached from the strain from the day before. Every position brought absolutely no relief to his sore muscles. They felt as if someone had pulled out each and every muscle, stretched it from one city to another, and stuffed back into his body.
To his relief his injuries were less painful. That is, until a hand lightly brushed over the sensitive skin. The teen let out a soft hiss, and he instantly heard a quiet apology from the spirit.
Soon, the white cloaked spirit finished rewrapping the bandages. He sat back on his legs, and sighed softly.
"You saved me, didn't you, Zangetsu?" the teen asked.
"Of course. Remember what I said? The things I want to protect is not the things you want to protect."
A flash of deep melancholy draped around a drowned landscape went through the orange head's mind. Another thought went through his mind, and he internally despaired. Zangetsu believed that he still had his memories. The teen took a breath.
"Zangetsu," the teen muttered, "I don't remember anything."
Disappointment plastered itself across Zangetsu's face. The joy melted from his eyes and a small breath escaped from his lips. It was quickly replaced by something darker. The teen suddenly had memories of the intense hatred Zangetsu was emitting. The spirit ducked his head into the shadows, and the aura dispersed. His shoulders slumped in resignation, and he leaned back on the grass next to the recovering teen. Zangetsu's tilted his head toward the sky and viewed the glittering stars. The teen's chest tightened.
"I sort of remember you," the boy offered, "and I'm remembering more and more."
Zangetsu gave a sad smile. The boy yawned. He shifted on the makeshift cloth-bed. The teen watched the world blur from tiredness and closed his eyes.
Noting his owner's exhaustion, Zangetsu asked, "Do you remember your name?"
The boy made a small sound of dissent.
"Your name is Kurosaki Ichigo," Zangetsu murmured softly.
A small smile graced his lips. Yes, that is my name. His flurrying mind calmed with the revelation, and finally Kurosaki Ichigo allowed the warm confines of sleep take over. His face smoothed, every crinkle disappeared and tension from the sheer thought of not knowing evaporated from his resting face. Ichigo's breathing relaxed like a steady stream of water. Zangetsu lightly brushed away stray orange locks from his partner's face.
The Zanpakuto spirit stood up and brushed away invisible dirt from his pristine coat. He made his way toward the fire. Tucking a stray strand of white hair behind his ear, he stoked the fire. After making sure there was enough to last the night, Tensa Zangetsu lied down next to Ichigo and stared up at the stars and the moon.
Heavenly Chain Slaying Moon, the spirit thought bitterly. The moon is slain but now the chain is broken and cannot be repaired. Perhaps in time it could, but too many plots are being laid out. Tensa Zangetsu exhaled into the cool air. His hand absentmindedly traced the edges of the hollow mask. He glanced at Ichigo. At least it'll be fun, he chuckled quietly. With that thought, he too relaxed his body and attempted to drift into the realm of dreams. He thought of skyscrapers dotting the sky and peaceful clouds roaming their way leisurely across the light, airy blue plains.
Two minutes later, Zangetsu got up. Running a hand through his hair, he idly stoked the fire.
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Ichigo awoke to hushed, yet harsh and pointed, talking. He recognized Zangetsu's alto voice, but he didn't recognize the other's smooth, with an underlying threat, alto. He turned his head toward the voices, shifting the grass underneath his head and causing a slight rustle to be heard. Immediately, Zangetsu stopped talking, and the other man followed suit. Ichigo strained his head, but all he could see was a strikingly white uniform and the equally white boots of the unknown man.
"I will head back now. I will return later to get his judgment whether you wish for it to happen or not," the mysterious man promised.
Shadows suddenly poured in around the man, and within seconds, they disappeared along with the man. Zangetsu walked wordlessly to Ichigo and began to methodically check his bandages. His face was completely devoid of emotion except for a sliver of hate that seemed to swirl in both eyes.
"Uh, who was that?" Ichigo inquired.
Zangetsu's pale hands stilled. Ichigo watched curiously as a debate played out in his blue and gold eyes, as if two entities were debating instead of one. Wait, Ichigo suddenly thought, weren't there two spirits?
"Zangetsu, you can tell me about him later, but um, weren't there two Zangetsus? What happened to the other one?"
His head snapped up so fast Ichigo swore it would've gave him whiplash if he wasn't a spirit. There was something Ichigo couldn't read in his eyes.
"What... do you mean?"
His voice was absolutely full of shock. However, Ichigo felt there was another emotion hidden underneath the surprise. He felt like it was hope, but for what? Ichigo sat up, and looked him in the eye.
"Well, I remember two of you. One was dressed in black, and one was dressed in white," Ichigo mused.
The teen looked away, a slight frown developing on his face.
"I also remember one Zanpakuto, but that doesn't feel right. It just feels like there should be two Zangetsus since it's not healthy to ignore a part of your soul, right, Zangetsu?"
"Yeah."
For once, the double toned voice was unified in joy and disbelief. Zangetsu's eyes glittered in the sun, and Ichigo wondered what was it that he said provoked such an intense reaction. The boy smiled softly, and stood up. His muscles ached less, and he felt good to be on his feet again. He stood without fail, and Zangetsu quickly stood up upon realizing the injuries were healing faster than he thought.
Ichigo watched the spirit for a whole two seconds when something happened. Zangetsu's eyes widened. The graceful spirit stumbled, and Ichigo quickly reached up to steady him. Ichigo was surprised at the absolute nothingness that was in his hands when they held up the spirit. That was impossible, he was sure Zangetsu wasn't this light! He looked at Zangetsu. The image seemed to shimmer in the air and it flickered every few seconds.
"I forgot," he said breathily, "that this form isn't permanent."
Even his voice seemed to fade in and out.
"What?" Ichigo asked dumbly.
"I'll explain later, but I'm going to have to revert to Zanpakuto form to conserve energy. Have fun, Ichigo," the spirit whispered.
Within a moment the spirit dissolved into Reishi and reformed into a thin, obsidian black daito with a pristine, snow-white tsuba right in Ichigo's hand. Kurosaki felt a weight on his hip, and with a quick swipe of his brown eyes he found a silvery sheath tied to his waist. The teen took a few experimental swipes and slashes with Tensa Zangetsu and was not surprised to find the movements all familiar and comforting. He rubbed his other hand over the polished blade and quickly tucked it in the sheath.