A/N: Hello! This is my first time writing fan fiction so I would just like to say thank you in advance to anyone who chooses to review this. The first four chapters were all written at the same time to get the story moving.

Bleach and all products thereof are copyright to Tite Kubo, et al.

Wednesday, February 12, 2003

It was still dark when Ichigo woke up of his own accord. He looked at the clock: 6:15 AM. He realized with disgust that he wasn't tired and wouldn't be getting back to sleep. He sat up in bed. In the darkness his eyes wandered over to where to he'd left the gym bag Alan had given him. Ignoring the cold, he got up and retrieved it, sitting back down on the bed and opening it up. Inside were precisely the items that Alan had described: a flare gun and a necklace sitting on top of a stack of manila folders.

Ichigo withdrew the flare gun first, considering it. There was nothing special marking it out as what Alan had described it as: "Single-shot self-defense weapon, use it if you get attacked by a Hollow. You're not a marksman, so let it get close and don't miss." The only thing that seemed unusual was a brace at the back of the trigger that had to be deliberately removed, presumably to keep it from firing accidentally. He smiled as the idea of shooting a Hollow in the face with a flare struck him as oddly funny. He set it aside to put in his own backpack.

Next there was the necklace. It had a relatively simple chain and the pendant at the end wasn't very ornate, a rather plain shield with what appeared to be a sort of tribal design carved into it and inlaid with something like onyx. He wasn't sure what it was supposed to represent, if anything. "Reiatsu jammer," Alan had said, "wear it at all times after today." Ichigo had protested that he didn't have any reiatsu and Alan had just reiterated the command. Ichigo picked up the glasses he'd been issued and put them on, studying both the flare gun and the necklace, finding neither had the slightest hint of spiritual energy. He scowled suspiciously before putting the necklace on, leaving the glasses on as well.

Lastly there was the stack of four folders, all but the last well over a centimeter thick. He pulled all of them out at once and looked at the top one, the thickest at almost three centimeters, finding it emblazoned with some sort of seal ringed in English. "Department of Defense…United States of America," he read slowly. The top and bottom were stamped "TOP SECRET/SI-GAMMA 7777-GEMINI/RESERVOIR/NOFORN" and he had no clue what that meant other than the "top secret" part. He would've laughed had he known "noforn" meant "no foreign nationals." Alan had said "You've also got some homework, which technically speaking you aren't supposed to have access to; I have latitude to disburse it to you given the circumstances, but needless to say, nobody else can know you have it."

Opening it, Ichigo found what appeared to be an official report. Each page had a translated equivalent in Japanese paper-clipped to it. The translation was a bit choppy—Ichigo guessed that Alan himself had not translated these—but carried the meaning across well enough. It was an official history of American government efforts to deal with was repeatedly labeled as "supernatural and paranormal activity." From the table of contents it became clear the history began with 1775 but the vast bulk of the folder's contents seemed to date to World War II and later. He set the folder to the side and looked at the other three which seemed to be, in descending order both in the stack and size, organizational information, a kind of handbook, and reams of contract paperwork.

It became clear to Ichigo that was he was expected to read all of this, and in the case of the last set, fill it out. "Bastard," he growled, "Like I don't have enough to do already." He put the latter three folders back into order and into the gym bag, then took the contents of the first out of the folder, putting the folder itself into the gym bag as well, closing it. He then looked around for somewhere obscure to put the gym bag and ultimately decided to set it among various things in the lower part of his closet. He found himself inadvertently staring at the upper shelf before deliberately forcing his attention to the cabinet beside his desk, looking through his school supplies and materials. He found an unused three-ring binder and slid the former contents of the folder into its rings. At least it would be portable without drawing attention.

Looking up at the clock he was depressed to find it was only 6:33. He went and grabbed his backpack, shoving the flare gun into the least used pocket it would fit in, and got a change of clothes, resolving to take a long shower.

It was 7:02 by the time he was fully dressed and back in his bedroom, sitting in front of the window and reading through the history. He could tell from the first few pages that it would be slow going, but the material was at least interesting. The American effort had officially begun with the country's rebellion from the British Empire, but had been predated by the activities of their English and later British equivalents on the North American continent. These were briefly described, but not in any great detail. (There were repeated references to another document that he didn't have which covered such matters.) Once America had become independent, it had set up its own forces to handle such matters. These were mostly concentrated within the Continental and later US Army on a unit-by-unit level, usually in the form of the chaplains.

The martial nature was explained through a series of battlefield anecdotes; things that matched Ichigo's understanding of Hollows—and other things he didn't recognize—were apparently drawn to the chaos of active war zones. He'd never thought about it before but it made sense. Owing to the great chaos that could be caused, and the resultant battlefield impact, military forces had long taken steps to protect themselves. The American effort, like the British and English ones preceding it, had grown out of centuries and millennia of military need and gradually expanded from there.

By 7:45 he had finished reading the overview of activities during the Revolutionary War and was halfway through the War of 1812 when the door handle jiggled. Ichigo slammed the binder shut, not needing the glasses to know who was on the other side.

His dad burst into the room, proclaiming "Good morning, Ichigooo—" while ringed in swirling electric red, and began to rush him, only to stop halfway across the room, leveling a finger accusingly at Ichigo's face. "—What the hell are those?" he asked.

"Anti-glare glasses," Ichigo said with ire. He could already tell that everyone was going to be asking this question and it already irritated him. He cursed Alan silently this time. "Didn't Karin or Yuzu tell you about them last night?"

"My own son and daughters keeping things from me," Isshin wailed, crocodile tears streaming from his eyes as he looked at the ceiling, crying "Dear, did I go so wrong as a father?!"

"Shut up, I just didn't think it was that big a deal," Ichigo muttered, "I have a prescription for them, and I'm trying to study here!" Isshin suddenly stood up ramrod straight, regarding Ichigo intensely as if studying him. At last he nodded gravely, like he was completely sure of something. Ichigo could feel a pit forming in his stomach. Does he know somehow? If anybody would be able to detect something was off about the glasses, a former Shinigami taichō would surely be the one to do so. The red aura about his father intensified. "What?" Ichigo asked crabbily to hide his newfound fear.

"You actually look kinda cool with those on; they will definitely make you a hit with the ladies," Isshin said with total confidence, thrusting a fist up in the air. "Dear, our boy will finally be a real success with women!"

"Shut up!" Ichigo shouted, throwing a notebook at his father and jumping to his feet. Get out of my room!" he continued, proceeding to chase and hit his father out of the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. He knew that his dad was letting him reassert his privacy, but it was good enough for him. Grousing at the old man's nerve, he went back to reading. His father hadn't commented on the fact he'd already been up.

It was 7:55 when he noticed a fuchsia signature approaching the door. Karin knocked, declaring "Ichi-nii, breakfast is ready!" before tromping back downstairs.

He closed the binder and slid it into his backpack with his actual school materials and collected his things before opening the door and following after her. In truth his entire family had grown more respectful of his privacy since he had lost his power. He had welcomed and hated it by turns, but it was at least useful now. Breakfast passed with what was, for the Kurosaki family, blissful peacefulness.

"Okay, I'm going," Ichigo said, getting up and going to the door.

"Have a good day, Ichi-nii," called Yuzu, to which Karin nodded, adding "Later, Ichi-nii."

Ichigo smiled before his dad leaped at him, proclaiming "Knock'em dead, Ichigooo—" only to be punched into the ground for his troubles.

"Pervert," Ichigo muttered, opening the door and stepping out before closing it behind him. He could halfway hear Isshin's protestations to his sisters as he made his way to the sidewalk. He was not ten meters down the street when he heard running behind him and felt an intense weariness with the world at both the quantity and quality of idiocy he was forced to confront on a daily basis.

"Ichigooo—" Keigo called at him in the last meter, before Ichigo unceremoniously sidestepped and turned, clotheslining him. He could see Mizuiro, walking some ways behind, wave.

Ichigo raised his forearm as if flexing, a vein throbbing on his forehead, and declared loud enough for both to hear "I swear, if either of you badger me about these glasses—"

"Why are you—" Keigo started, only to receive a kick that made groan.

"What did I just say?! They're prescription for headaches! Now shut up!" Ichigo exclaimed.

"They don't look bad, Ichigo," Mizuiro said, continuing on past him. Ichigo kicked Keigo again for good measure and turned, following him. Keigo caught up surprisingly quickly considering the abuse he'd just endured. They didn't discuss much else on the way to school.

Ichigo spent the morning fending off the same question from everyone else and producing the prescription in question for his teachers. He was, by lunch, completely sick of the whole thing and resolved that he hated the glasses, even though most people had actually complimented them (except for Ishida, who had merely pushed up his own actual glasses) and everyone had accepted the explanation without question, meaning he was unlikely to be asked again. Inoue, in particular, wouldn't stop going on about how cool they looked.

At the same time he had, surreptitiously, been entering signature IDs, and had completed entering his set of friends well before lunch: Inoue, Ishida, Chad, Tatsuki, Keigo, Mizuiro, Chizuru, and Michiru just for good measure. It was notable that all of them showed up in the glasses, but then given their previous proximity to the Hōgyoku, that wasn't surprising; in fact a lot of the students in Karakura High School seemed to have gained some mild level of reiatsu that way.

He tried to excuse himself in order to study the binder at lunch, only to be met with Keigo's protestations of betrayal (for which he had beaten his friend) and everyone else's incredulity. Ishida had yet again only pushed his glasses up his nose in disbelief, and so he was dragged along through social obligation to a rooftop luncheon. He found himself watching signals transit across Karakura as everyone else chatted. At one point a Hollow appeared somewhere in the distance and Imoyama-san had actually been close enough to recognize and deal with it. It was almost like watching a video game: red and yellow dots meeting and flickering only for the yellow one to disappear.

Ishida had started up when it happened, followed by Chad and Inoue, but all of them had just as quickly relaxed when they sensed Imoyama-san had it under control. Ichigo neither moved nor said anything even as he watched it all happen, and other than what seemed to be a lingering glance from Ishida he had caught out of the corner of his eyes, they didn't notice him not reacting. The rest of the day was uneventful, and so he said his goodbyes for the day and went to work.

"Ah, Ichigo-chan, you're right on time for once!" Ikumi declared as he walked in, before looking at him curiously. "Are you a delinquent now? What's the deal with—"

"They're prescription!" Ichigo bellowed, mentally cursing Alan's existence and making his way to the couch in a huff. Ikumi for once didn't ask questions but instead just smiled softly. Ichigo found it entirely too creepy and out of character as she continued to do so while proceeding about her business. Once a call came in and she was her usual aggressive self, he let out a sigh of relief that it wasn't permanent, adding her as well to the ID list. Her reiatsu was very faint, but he was here enough to feel an obligation to add her for safety's sake.

Business remained slow, and so he studied the binder, getting through the first half of the American Civil War. That had been when the first great emphasis had been placed on dealing with supernatural and paranormal phenomena, as the great bloodshed had apparently drawn much more interest from other worlds. This was when the US Army had transitioned from relying on individual informed soldiers to having small dedicated units. They had been called Frighteners.

He had only read of some of their exploits before Ikumi spoke up "Ichigo-chan, you may as well head home, we're not likely to get any more business tonight." She sounded tired.

Ichigo didn't protest, instead packing up his things. "If you say so…Ikumi-san. Have a good night, yeah?" Ichigo said, offering what was, for him, a pleasant tone as he stood.

Ikumi eyed him with a degree of suspicion before nodding and grunting out an "Ah" in acknowledgement. Her young employee was indeed deeply mysterious in his moods.

Ichigo nodded back and returned home. Dinner was unusually quiescent, and after an hour and a half in bed reading about the Frighteners during and after the Civil War, he fell asleep.

Thursday, February 13, 2003

Ichigo was awoken by his cell phone ringing. He groggily fumbled for it and checked the time. It was 2:09 AM. The caller didn't have an ID, but he knew from the number it was Alan. He had deliberately not added him to his contacts in case anyone checked his phone. He angrily flicked it open, muttering "Do you know what time it is, asshole?" He was still resentful of the grief he'd taken over the glasses the day previous.

"Get to Tsubakidai Park in Sakurabashi," Alan said.

"Eh?" Ichigo said, eyes widening as he became suddenly alert. Tsubakidai was across the Karasu River from his own neighborhood, Minamikawase, and very near to both Chad and Inoue's places. If they were in danger…

"Now, and don't forget anything," Alan said, ending the call. Ichigo bolted out of bed, throwing on clothes and grabbing both the glasses and the flare gun. He slid open his window and shuffled onto the roof, closing it behind him before dropping down and starting to run. Clouds were rolling in that obscured the gibbous moon, and no one was about in the cold and dark. It took him only a few minutes to make it to the park.

As he came to face the park in question, he could see a yellow signature moving around after a white one—a Hollow chasing someone. He pulled out his phone as he continued running and called Alan back. The phone rang several times before the man picked it up. "Kinda busy here," he said, his voice clearly strained. There was some kind of commotion in the background.

"What the hell am I supposed to do against a Hollow?" Ichigo spat out.

"Wouldn't blame you for not noticing, everything considered, but nobody's gonna be coming to save that Plus except you, buddy. Use the flare gun," Alan replied, before ending the call.

Ichigo jerked his head toward the heart of town and felt his eyes bulge upon seeing several yellow signatures swarming about and dissipating, flashes of red, blue, white, and almost-white-but-slightly cream-colored moving among the yellow signatures as they disappeared. IDs immediately came up identifying Chad, Inoue, and Ishida. He assumed the red signature was still Imoyama-san. It was nowhere near the amount that had come to Karakura when Ishida had used the Hollow bait years before, but the numbers seemed almost constant, as if something was drawing them in. Whatever it was, it wasn't serious enough to draw out his father or the Urahara Shop, let alone the Visored, and that gave him some measure of relief, though it had sounded like maybe Alan was engaged as well.

In any event, the one in the park must've been one that got away from the others, and it was up to him to stop it. He rounded the last corner and ran into the park, the yellow signature resolving itself into the shape of a rather ordinary bipedal Hollow. It was chasing the white outline of a Plus, the ghost of a young woman, around the park. He could hear neither of them, seeing only their apparitions and some of the destruction caused by the Hollow.

Without hesitating, Ichigo moved to intercept and position himself between the two. His legs pumping, Ichigo ran in front of the Plus and faced the Hollow, shouting "Why don't you try picking on somebody who can actually fight back?!" The Hollow's outline, perhaps ten meters away, paused briefly and tilted its head at him, confused at this spiritually mundane interloper, before roaring and charging him down all the same.

Ichigo had held the flare gun in hand as he ran and had popped the brace out upon reaching the park. He now drew it up with both hands like he'd seen in the movies and took aim before coolly squeezing its trigger. In the seconds that followed several things happened.

He did not notice, focused as he was on events before him, a glittering pencil-thin beam lancing through the Plus as she continued running behind him, nor the Hell Butterfly that flew off from her prompt konsō.

For him, the world immediately seemed to shift into extreme slow motion, and he became aware of the magnitude of his own intense killing intent, something he hadn't felt since the fight with Aizen. At the same time the orange plastic casing of the supposed flare gun had blown off of everywhere but the handle, flying away languidly. What remained was an odd and strangely threatening mix of what seemed to be steel and copper colored-tubing laced with tiny wiring, some of the pieces being intricately grooved and inset. Instantly the tubing telescoped out, extending the overall length of the gun to some 30cm or so. The steel sections began rotating with increasing speed in sequentially different directions, while insets on the copper ones snapped open and began to glow an increasingly vibrant blue. What…the hell, Ichigo found himself thinking, before a sharp pain in his right hand drew his attention. The gun had…stabbed him?

Ichigo didn't have time to really consider the wound in his hand, even in what he now recognized to be his own accelerated perception of events. He instead realized the weapon wasn't just glowing blue visually, but in the glasses as well. Quincy…? Its signature was perfectly ordered and channeled compared to that of a living being, and he could almost visually trace the pathways of energy in it. He felt his eyes go wide as sections of it simply turned off before flaring red, yellow, and white. These became dominant near the handle, and a cold fear at the center of his being formed about what this thing he had just activated really was.

It was then that he noticed his vision was growing streaky, lines converging toward the weapon, and that the front of the Hollow was very slowly disintegrating even as it ran at him, as if it had been splashed with acid. A warning pulsed lazily at the corner of the glasses and he realized it had been there since the moment he'd pulled the trigger: "Abnormal Ambient Reishi." He understood then. This thing was drawing in all available reishi to convert it into reiatsu, like a Quincy could. A second warning suddenly started to strobe: "Kishi to Reishi Conversion Field."

The ground beneath the gun cratered and began to drift upward in clumps, fluorescing before disintegrating, the crater itself deepening and spreading everywhere but a tapered cone backward from Ichigo's person. There was a rush of wind as if the atmosphere itself was being drawn into the barrel of the weapon. Sparks crackled along its segments as its blue glow, both physical and sensory, dramatically intensified. The park was now lit entirely in that spectral blue. The red, white, and yellow signatures rapidly grew in intensity to match, and Ichigo could only just see through the glare that the circuit-like patterns of all four seemed to be feeding into his hand and arm…

It stopped as suddenly as it had begun. The park was lit normally. The HUD warnings, the streaking effect in the glasses, the ground evaporating, the wind, all had stopped. The gun, however, still glowed in its four intense colors, and the Hollow was still coming, now only meters from him. Suddenly a marble-sized blue-white sphere appeared at the end of the barrel before expanding rapidly. As if knowing what was about to happen, Ichigo instinctively jerked the weapon upwards toward the Hollow's head. The sphere shot forward at a ridiculous speed at the end of a beam of extraordinary intensity, the gun itself fading in his vision as it continued to discharge. The Hollow was instantly obliterated. The beam continued up into the sky as a sudden heat flared up Ichigo's arms, dominant in the right one and increasing until he felt both would combust. He screamed. The heat only kept increasing as it came to quickly suffuse his entire body. He roared beneath the white energy lance heading for space, and at last as the gun went dark and the beam ended he fell backwards, unconscious from agony, clutching the weapon in a death grip.

The park was completely silent as darkness took it once more, save for the soft crunch of shoes on dirt. Alan, clad in unusual military combat gear, walked up to Ichigo's inert body with purpose but not excess haste, a rather vicious-looking rifle of some sort at ease in his hands. He shouldered it and readily picked the teen up in a fireman's carry. The whole thing from Ichigo pulling the trigger to the end of the blast had been perhaps five seconds, and he needed the kid to be in bed before everyone came to investigate the signal he had just sent up. Some of them would probably check on him, specifically, and his family before going to the site.

Had anyone been watching the pair, they would have seen them both vanish.

A/N: The flare gun's visual style is based somewhat on the Casters from Outlaw Star. That's the only real relation.