This chapter has been revised as of 6/20/18 for quality-of-reading improvements.
Abridged original note:
This is for you, random guy who literally just followed/favorited right as I was typing out this author's note.
Chapter 4
"Gin," I said, quickly turning away from where Aizen's body had been disintegrated in the heat of my Getsuga Tenshō. I had only moments before the rest of the Shinigami got their wits back, and they'd get suspicious of the Kidō pretty quick. "We've gotta talk. You too, Tōsen."
And then, before anyone could protest otherwise—half of them didn't even realize what had happened, too focused on the explosion to realize the source, and the other half were too dazed or confused to process what I was doing—I sheathed Zangetsu, grabbed both of the men in question and vanished using Shunido, my personal blend of Shunpo and Sonido that had taken me a full year to perfect. To the audience, even Yamamoto and Yoruichi, I simply disappeared.
As I dragged the two traitor captains along at speeds that rendered them helpless to do anything but hang limply in my grip, I materialized Zangetsu, who immediately began running alongside me. Vaguely, I was aware of Gin's eyes opening, a rare demonstration of how caught off-guard he was.
"Zangetsu, I need you to carry Gin."
He scoffed. "I'm not a pack mule."
"Just do it."
"Fine."
He grabbed Gin, and immediately I picked up speed with the decreased weight. After another two minutes of sprinting, I judged that we were where I wanted to be, so I dumped the two ex-captains on the ground with as little ceremony as possible. Amazingly, they were both relatively calm, and hiding their nausea pretty well, though the green tint to Gin's face belied his tranquility.
"My, my," Gin said, staring at me with his usual smile in place. That smile looked a bit shaken. "What an interestin' development, Ichigo Kurosaki. I'd never have expected ya t' be the one t' take down Aizen. Of course, that means that I should probably get revenge—" He started to move to draw his sword, but then Zangetsu was there, holding Shinsō in a mocking grip.
"Looking for this?" He asked, twirling the blade.
"Sit down, Gin," I ordered. "and you, Kaname Tōsen."
"What, so I'm 'Gin' and he's 'Kaname Tōsen', not just 'Kaname'?"
I stared at him, letting my gaze grow cold as I dredged up more memories of the war; the day when Gin had finally awoken from his coma and agreed to fight for the Gotei Thirteen; the day Gin saved Rangiku's life in exchange for his own; the day of the mass funeral, when Gin's haori had been given to a Rangiku too long devastated to properly grieve.
Gin's smile disappeared slowly as a scowl made its way onto my face.
"Listen up, asshole," I said, wordlessly nodding to Zangetsu, who rolled his eyes but nonetheless grabbed Tōsen and left, taking Gin's Zanpakutō with him. "There's some shit we need to talk about."
"Would that be yer appearance?" he inquired. "'Cause ya look taller than I remember."
"Oh, trust me," I growled. "This is nothing." I shifted my shihakushō—still torn up to the shoulders—to reveal the lattice of scars over my heart. They weren't as physically intimidating as the one on my back or on my throat, but they got the job done. I could show the ones mostly hidden by the collar on my neck, but I chose not to. "These are from when Aizen wanted to see how serious of a wound instant regeneration could heal." My voice was frosty when I spoke, and I knew tendrils of black were creeping over my eyes.
Gin's expression betrayed his confusion, though anyone who didn't know him well enough wouldn't think so.
"What are you sayin'?" He asked. I let my robes fall back into place.
"You got your opportunity to kill Aizen, Gin," I said. "You used your bankai, stabbed him through the heart, and blew a hole in his chest with that poison of yours. Then you grabbed the Hōgyoku and got away."
Now he was definitely surprised.
"Except that didn't kill Aizen. He hunted you down and tried to kill you; Rangiku cried over your body, Gin. She thought you had died, and she cursed you to hell and back for what you did. The only thing she wanted to know was why you didn't trust her enough to tell her."
"How do ya know all'a that?" he asked. His eyes were wide open, and their blue color was still shocking to me, no matter how many times I'd seen it.
I smiled without humor. "Let's just go with 'time travel' and leave it at that. Now, you've got two options: I can kill you where you stand and leave the Gotei Thirteen to find your body, or you can go back to Sōkyoku hill and weasel yourself out of whatever trouble you've gotten yourself into."
Gin was silent for a moment.
"One other thing," I added, gesturing to the area around us. It was a flat plain with mountains in the distance, completely devoid of life; one of the farthest reaches of known Soul Society. "This area is where you tried to kill Aizen, and where he nearly killed everyone I care about; the beginning point of the real war. Think about that while you make your decision."
In a burst of Shunido, I vanished, instinctively knowing that Gin wasn't going to go anywhere. I would know if he did, and it wouldn't be pretty.
I found Zangetsu and Kaname Tōsen about a kilometer away, with Zangetsu twirling his cleaver blade by the bandages wrapped around the handle. The sword came within inches of Kaname's skin. The man wasn't moving, and I saw noticeable cuts all over his body, probably souvenirs of all the times he did try to move.
Gin's Zanpakutō was in the ground a few meters away, stuck there point-first.
"Captain Tōsen," I greeted flatly. The blind man turned to me, expressionless.
"Intruder," he replied. I rolled my eyes.
"We both know that the whole 'intruder' thing is a bunch a bullshit courtesy of Aizen. Anyway, that's not what I want to talk to you about. And Zangetsu, stop spinning your blade like that. You're going to accidentally decapitate him."
"I don't do anything on accident," Zangetsu growled, but nevertheless complied.
"Why should I endeavor to speak to the boy who cut down the man I followed?" Kaname answered, cocking his head slightly.
"Technically, I blew him up," I answered coldly. "I'm giving you one chance. I know you like to follow the path of justice; Aizen's path was so far from that I'm surprised even a blind person like you couldn't see it."
"Aizen was a man of great honor."
Zangetsu growled low in his throat.
"No, he really wasn't," I snapped. "In my timeline—because if you haven't already figured it out, Kaname, I'm from the goddamn future—Aizen slaughters hundreds of thousands of innocent souls for the sake of his war. He even kills you when you try to renounce your ways in your dying moments. He tore children away from families, turned wandering plus souls into hollows with no guilt whatsoever, and killed nearly everyone I knew. Tell me, Kaname. Was there justice in the deaths he caused? The Shinigami he slaughtered? The hollows he created? Or was it all in the way that he did it for himself?"
I spread my hands even though Kaname couldn't see the gesture.
"I haven't figured it out yet. Care to enlighten me? I only had eight years of war to think about it."
Kaname's expression tightened, but he didn't say anything.
"Are you going to explain yourself to Komamura and Hisagi?" I asked mildly, giving the blind captain his last chance at redemption. I was only willing to give him this much; I didn't want him doing anything behind my back later, because I'd already had far too much experience with that.
"They would not understand," Kaname finally said.
I exchanged a glance with Zangetsu. He shrugged, readied his cleaver, and held it to Kaname's throat. I made no move to stop him, having had to perform this kind of execution myself numerous times on Shinigami who got infected by the parasitic hollows Aizen created. Already, I had thought of a suitable story as to why Kaname would end up as a bloody heap. Gin would help me; I hadn't been extremely close with him, but I knew that he had never really liked or trusted Kaname and had no qualms about killing the man once it was obvious that Aizen had sunk his claws far too deep into the captain.
"Last words?" I asked, at least wanting to give Kaname some dignity. To his credit, he was completely calm. He turned towards me, heedless of the blade at his throat. When he spoke, his words were calm and measured, like he had thought them countless times.
"No matter the circumstance," Kaname said gravely, "I shall walk the path of justice. Monsters and men will not deter me from my path."
I blinked, hesitated for a few seconds, and then groaned. Zangetsu, sensing my thoughts, let out an annoyed breath.
"We're not gonna kill 'im, are we?" he asked, disappointed.
"This is a do-over," I replied after a beat, knocking Kaname out as I spoke. I did it more roughly than necessary, and the cuts already on Kaname's body courtesy of Zangetsu made it look as though he had gone down with a struggle. "I don't want to leave a trail of bodies if I don't have to."
"And if ya have t' kill?"
I stared at Kaname's body. "Then I will."
I took a deep breath and leaned back, resting my head against the wall. I was currently staying in the Fourth Division after spending three whole days under interrogation from Head Captain Yamamoto and a way too suspicious Suì-Fēng, both of whom bought my story after nitpicking every single moment of it and nearly making me break out of the place just so I could get some fresh air.
Confined spaces and I really didn't work out, and only the constant soothing of Zangetsu and the Old Man had stopped me from snapping.
I had gone with the story that my injury had not been as bad as it had seemed, and I was conserving energy to try to strike back at Aizen when he wasn't expecting it. Yoruichi, while training me, had told me about Garganta and how to destabilize them—I chose the option of destabilizing the Garganta rather than completely obliterating it—so I used a covert Getsuga Tenshō to close the portal to Hueco Mundo and stop Aizen's escape. After that I claimed that Zangetsu and I had temporarily fused in order to get enough power to catch Aizen off-guard with one final attack, after which Gin and Kaname took me away as revenge.
At that point, former Captain Tōsen tried to attack me, only to be stopped and knocked out by Gin after a brief struggle. Then Gin alerted the rest of the Gotei Thirteen, got himself interrogated, and somehow everything worked out. After that, I played dumb; after all, I was nothing more than a human teenager, and couldn't possibly be smarter or know more than a captain.
Sometimes, the skill with which I had learned to lie was disturbing. Maybe it came from comforting helpless and shattered Shinigami forced on the frontlines years too soon only to see their friends hacked to pieces right in front of them.
Gin had gotten off with the Shinigami captain equivalent of a slap on the wrist: docked pay and observation for a few months. Kaname, on the other hand, was imprisoned. Even I wasn't sure where he had gone; Hisagi and Komamura had taken the news surprisingly well, especially after they found out Kaname's last words. They simply looked disappointed and very, very tired. Of course, judging from their turbulent Reiatsu, I knew they were trying and failing to disguise or stifle their emotions. I knew from experience that suppressing emotions was a very bad idea, but I wasn't really in a position to reprimand a captain and a lieutenant when I was supposed to be a brash sixteen-year-old.
On the bright side, the Gotei Thirteen seemed anxious to cover up the Aizen Incident, as they had dubbed it (and the number of buildings I had destroyed in my inner world after hearing that was in the hundreds because you couldn't take the damned Winter War and turn it into a fucking incident like someone dropping their Zanpakutō or tearing their Haori).
After commending me for my actions (though the guy made it sound like pulling teeth), Yamamoto had said I was free to go, but he clearly meant that he wanted my friends and me—the intruders—to leave as soon as possible. With how much we had to take care of, though, that interim stretched into several days. Really, I spent the entire four days after my interrogation hiding from Kenpachi. I wasn't sure what Uryū and Orihime and Chad were up to, but whatever it was had to be more fun than running from a homicidal maniac with no understanding of the word "restraint."
On the bright side, we were leaving Soul Society that day. I'd already solidified my friendship with Renji and Rukia—I was going to have to watch myself around them; I couldn't accidentally let anything slip—and there was only an hour or so left before I was supposed to head over to the Senkaimon.
Last night I had to act surprised when Rukia announced that she wasn't coming back with us to the World of the Living after spending nearly half the day searching for her with Orihime—barging in on Byakuya's sick room and acting like it was no big deal was as satisfying as I remember.
The dinner at Kūkaku's place was pretty entertaining, minus the fact that I accidentally punched Ganju across the room when he got a little too rough with me.
Twice.
I had to force myself not to roll my eyes when Captain Ukitake handed me my Substitute Soul Reaper badge, and then I smiled when Orihime gave Uryū's dress to Rukia (and wouldn't take no for an answer).
The goodbye to Rukia wasn't as awkward as I remember, but the distractions made me forget one crucial detail about the trip back to the world of the living: the Kotetsu.
Zangetsu was very helpful in supplying phrases for me to spit at Yoruichi, who either pretended not to or didn't hear me as we sprinted through the Dangai, the Purple Train of Death hot on our heels. Too bad it wasn't destroyed this time around.
Needless to say, being made into a human baseball was even less fun the second time, especially since Uryū's surprisingly sharp elbow was digging into my abdomen the entire time before we landed on Kisuke's weird flying carpet thing.
Kisuke's apology was somewhat mollifying, even though I really wasn't mad at him. I had felt Yoruichi's eyes on me the entire way back, and I knew that she didn't miss the way I flinched when Kisuke apologized to me, or the way my hands clenched into fists when I first laid eyes on him. Seeing my dead friends alive again hurt. Seeing a much less burdened, a much freer Kisuke was just plain painful, because I knew exactly what he looked like when pushed beyond the breaking point, and I couldn't help but compare the two images in my head and realize that the contrast was terrible.
I wasn't ashamed that I spent the entire following night by the river, staring at the exact spot where Grand Fisher had permanently changed my life. Now I stood on the precipice of a second change—and this time, it was intentional.
The return to normal life was jarring, to say the least. I knew my dad suspected something was off; for the complete goofball he was, Isshin was far from stupid and he hadn't been a captain for nothing. However, he seemed to assume that the new seriousness around me and any changes to my behavior were from Soul Society. It was difficult to completely change the way I moved after all, especially since I had trained with masters of stealth in order to perfect moving silently even when I wasn't intentionally trying to do so.
The hardest part was my new appearance, not to mention the new appearance of Zangetsu. I brushed off both by claiming bankai training and achieving bankai caused the changes, and consistently changed the subject every time someone tried to press the issue. Uryū, Chad, and Orihime bought it (Uryū with more than a little doubt), and I found that it was disturbingly easy to go back to my old life.
Of course, every single action made me want to punch the nearest wall with how normal it was.
There was no war.
People weren't dying in droves; I didn't see Orihime break twice over when Tatsuki was killed.
There was no war.
Chad would never break his oath when he was the last one standing in his group and had no other choice but to fight back and always feel guilty about it, would never even doubt me if I told him that he was doing it for my sake, not his own.
There was no war.
Uryū wouldn't have to pull every Quincy trick out of his bag and even invent a few new ones himself just to stay alive, only to die anyway.
There was no war.
"Yo, Ichigo. You're repeatin' yerself."
Yeah. Guess I am.
I felt a slight pull in my head, and then I was gone from my silent room and transported my inner world. Clouds completely obscured the sideways sky, a stark contrast from the painfully clear stars outside my bedroom. I inhaled deeply, taking in the distinctive scent that signified rain. I felt the prickling of tiny raindrops against my skin, but I was somehow avoiding an outright downpour. Distant rolls of thunder shook the skyscraper I stood on, and caused the flagpole a familiar figure was standing on to rattle slightly.
"Old Man," I acknowledged, nodding in his direction. The embodiment of my Quincy powers nodded back, his expression grave as his pitch-black cloak billowed in the wind that whipped through the air, turning the drizzle into something slightly more irritating. Shifting my gaze slightly, I saw the white copy of me standing a few meters away with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face.
It was strange, I thought, how Zangetsu had become more like me in the way that he acted. His bouts of bloodlust were still plentiful, but now he took to scowling when he was serious or concerned instead of smiling more disturbingly than Gin. On the flipside, I had adopted some of his mannerisms as well.
The rain began to come down in earnest, and Zangetsu's scowl deepened.
"Yer not even gonna acknowledge me, Ichigo?" He drawled, tilting his head as his eyes flashed dangerously.
"Sorry," I replied, sitting down on the building's cold surface and not even caring that it was wet. "I'm just preoccupied."
"I noticed."
Zangetsu moved to stand next to me and looked down, still scowling.
"What?"
"Ya can't sulk like this. Yeah, ya went through a war and things were pretty shitty for most of it, but ya have another chance t' fix it."
"You may have lost the bonds you once had," Old Man Zangetsu added, his deeper baritone more gentle than the hollow's harsh double voice as he regarded me, "but you have a chance to build new ones. You may never get back what you have lost, but this was your choice. You chose to move forward; you cannot look back, or you will hesitate at the wrong moment and let the fates you seek to avoid take hold."
I sighed, tilting my head up and letting the cool rain splash against my face and run in small rivulets across my skin. My hair was already plastered against my neck and forehead, and I absently brushed a stray strand away from my eyes. Here, in my inner world, I didn't look like the sixteen-year-old body I now inhabited. There were no illusions here.
"You are upset about killing Aizen," Old Man Zangetsu observed, his observant nature not missing anything in my actions. I rubbed my forehead.
"I guess. It's just...I thought, after so long, I would feel...better. Less heavy. I mean, killing him was so damn satisfying, but it's been months and I don't feel that different. Aizen—Aizen—is dead before he could kill—before he could start the war here, and everyone's safe. But nothing feels like it's changed. And—" the words tasted so bitter on my tongue, and not even the rain could wash them away, "I don't know what to do."
During the war, I had been a leader, a general in the army who never hesitated on an order and handled thousands of lives on a daily basis like pieces on a chessboard. I fought in more battles than any other Shinigami, lost countless nights' sleep and ate so little that starvation always loomed on the horizon, and even after six months of recovery in Soul Society after the war, the sight of Yuzu's cooking made me nauseous. I'd already thrown up multiple times, as much as I tried to stop it.
Aizen had put me—and everyone I held close to me—through countless days and nights of hell, and at the time he finally died in the future timeline it felt rather pointless, more of a parting gesture than the death of the greatest villain Soul Society had ever seen.
I felt insulted more than I felt vindicated.
I'd realized during the war that it was impossible not to lose a part of myself somewhere between manipulating other people like nothing more than objects and hearing them screaming on the battlefield. I fell apart in such gradual increments that, by the time I noticed something was wrong, there was nothing I could do to be whole again, no matter how much those around me tried to pick up the scattered pieces.
Zangetsu sat down beside me, his jaw clenched while he stared off at the distant horizon, nearly indistinguishable from the gray clouds that perpetually coated the skies above. Any discomfort I felt at seeing an inverted clone of myself had disappeared years ago, and now I took his appearance in stride.
"I dunno what I'm supposed t' say," he admitted. "I wanna fight ya, see if I can get ya t' focus on somethin' other than Aizen." Zangetsu's voice when he said Aizen's name dripped with pure venom. He glanced at me, expression twisting. "But I know that's not what ya need. Yer head's in a bad place, and I don't know what to do about that.
"What I do know is that ya finally killed the bastard, before anyone else got hurt. Ya did what ya came here t' do, and you're gonna have t' live with the consequences. You're always gonna think of the future and what you've lost; there's nothin' I can do t' stop that. But ya need to focus on the now, Ichigo. Otherwise you'll lose yerself all over again, and I don't wanna go through that shit storm. Not a second time."
"I get that," I said quietly. "I made my decision, and I know there's no going back. But...even with the meditation, the preparation, I didn't realize how much it would hurt just to see everyone alive and—and—"
"Unburdened?" Old Man Zangetsu supplied, expression even graver than it had been minutes earlier. The rain didn't seem to affect the coat he wore in the slightest, I noted absently.
"Yeah. Kisuke's so much more confident now. He thinks he knows what's going to happen."
"You gonna tell him about yer situation?"
I let a small smile play across my lips, a flicker of amusement pulling at me. "It'll be more entertaining if he figures it out himself, I think. I want to see how long it'll take him to confront me."
"That will breed distrust, no matter how slight," Old Man Zangetsu cautioned, ever the voice of reason. I inclined my head slightly, acknowledging the point.
"I know, but I'm considering it payback for all the lying and crap he put me through the first time around." My eyes flashed dangerously, accompanied by a burst of lightning in the distance. "I don't like being shaped into a weapon of last resort."
The rain came down harder, but after I calmed myself down the downpour lightened into a soft mist. The clouds stayed, however.
I still couldn't help the way my thoughts strayed to the war. Every time I closed my eyes, I could still see flashes of battles: a sword swinging at my head from an Arrancar or Aizen himself, blood spraying in the air, even phantom pains from wounds long since healed.
The ache in my chest increased, and my breathing stuttered slightly. My throat burned.
Zangetsu abruptly stood up, scowling.
"Enough of this."
He reached down and grabbed my arm, yanking me to my feet.
"What are you," I started, intending to push him away (because no matter how much I knew that the guy was on my side he had a bad habit of using the most violent methods possible), but I was too late.
In one smooth motion, Zangetsu hurled me off the side of the building.
I didn't scream; instead, I closed my eyes and enjoyed the sensation of the freefall. In better times, I had jumped off the sides of the buildings in my inner world, using my improving control of Reishi (which apparently existed in inner worlds) to slow and stop my descents. However, at my level of power, hitting the ground would bruise me at the very worst if only gravity had pulled me down. When someone threw me, it was a different story, but Zangetsu hadn't been trying to hurt me.
Probably.
For a few moments, I felt weightless, suspended in the air in the same way as a raindrop, for once without the ominous burden that I held on my shoulders like my birthright.
And then I hit water, and reality came crashing back with a cold shock that drove the breath from my body in an explosive gasp and freezing, cloudy water surrounded me, filling my nose and choking me. I coughed, instinctively inhaling only to find that there was water and I couldn't—
"Breathe, idiot!"
Distantly, I saw Zangetsu crash into the water near me in an explosion of bubbles; his expression was more irate than it had been in a while.
After following his directions, I calmed down enough for rational thought to return. When it did, and my vision cleared without the narrowed focus that panic created, I could see my surroundings in the water that had cleared from the bubbles my landing had created.
Clearly, I was still in my inner world, judging from the bottoms of skyscrapers that I was seeing. However, other details caught my attention. There were trees planted around the streets, perfectly made sidewalks and every street sign necessary.
None of this was new to me; I was simply surprised that I was seeing it when I was underwater.
In fact, now that I was aware, I could see that the water only stretched a meter or so above my head. It was incredible that I hadn't hit the street when I landed, though I might have and not noticed.
"Zangetsu, what is this?" I asked, rapidly becoming accustomed to breathing underwater. My inner world had practically been a model of that drowned city I'd once read about—Atlantis?—during the war. It was never sunny.
Still wasn't, as a matter of fact.
"Yer mopin' and sulkin' the past few days has got yer world drowned all over again," Zangetsu spat.
"But I've kept everything under control," I responded, sitting down and materializing Zangetsu's cleaver blade on my back so that I would be weighed down in the water and not float up. "My emotions—"
"Are still there," Old Man Zangetsu said, drifting down to standing behind me, his hand on my shoulder. "You may have your emotions under control, Ichigo, but they are most certainly still there."
"And with everyone around, you're clampin' down on 'em more than normal. That's only makin' things worse."
"Then what am I supposed to do?" I clenched my right hand into a fist, closing my eyes and letting out a deep breath to try and vent some of my frustration. "I don't know how to...how to deal with this. I can't exactly talk to anyone about it."
Old Man Zangetsu sighed. "Ichigo, there has been one figure in your life who you have always trusted more than anyone. Speak with her, and you may yet find peace."
Zangetsu grunted his agreement, none-too-gently slugging me on the shoulder. "Get outta here, king. Yer time with yer subjects is up." His eyes sparkled with mischief. "Ya killed Aizen. Now live yer life."
I was shoved from my inner world with the mental image of Zangetsu smirking, something akin to pride glowing in his eyes.
Heeding the advice of my Zanpakutō, I visited my mother's grave the next morning after breakfast, deciding to skip the school day. Contrary to my inner world, the weather outside was sunny and warm, so I dressed in one of my many Nice Vibe t-shirts and pants, trying not to reveal how uncomfortable the normal clothes made me feel even after days of wearing them.
I was so used to the feel of a shihakushō that anything else felt unnatural and stifling.
"Hey, Mom," I said quietly, seated in front of my mother's gravestone. The cemetery was quiet save for a few birds chirping in the distance and a light breeze rustling through the treetops, and I took comfort in the relative silence. Zangetsu, materialized without his blades, was leaning against my back in the same position and facing the opposite direction, keeping watch.
Already, I felt slightly better. No matter how much time passed or what happened, talking to the grave was strangely calming for me. Awkwardly, I continued.
"I, um, haven't been here in a while."
I took a deep breath even as my heart began to beat the slightest bit faster. "I don't know if you should be proud of me or not, but...well, you're not going to believe what's happened." I took a breath, trusting that my Zanpakutō would warn me if anyone got too close. "I mean, technically most of it hasn't and never will happen, but I don't' think that matters. I think you deserve to know, because I've kept you out of the loop too much lately."
I kept talking, describing my adventures with Rukia and Renji in Hueco Mundo, the betrayal of Captain Amagai, the Zanpakutō rebellion, and everything else that came to mind. As I talked, Zangetsu hummed near-silently in approval or support, accompanied by waves of soothing Reiatsu from the Old Man.
Really, this was the best therapy for me. I knew it, Zangetsu knew it, and Old Man Zangetsu knew it.
Mom was always willing to listen.
When I went on to describe the war, I chose my words much more carefully. There were still some things—like the tender graces of Aizen's personal care—that I needed to skip over or risk having a flashback episode that my sword spirits couldn't drag me out of. But I did talk about Kenpachi, and how we strangely bonded over fights that stretched on for days. How I discovered that he was a hell of a lot more intelligent than he let on, how while he wasn't a genius but was unrivalled when it came to impromptu battle tactics.
I talked about how Rukia and Renji achieved (or in Renji's case, renamed) their bankai, and then described their final forms because I was still impressed with them even though they only used them for a short amount of time.
I told stories about the Soul King Palace and the Zero Division, as well as how I found out the true identity of Zangetsu.
I grew a little wistful when I told the tale of my father informing me about my true origins, and then bitter when I described his end. I echoed his last words: "Live well, Ichigo, and die happy."
The old bastard had been serious in his final moments, but I would always remember him as the goofy dad who, while not always around for my sisters and I, did his best.
Briefly, I mentioned that Yuzu and Karin had passed away as well, but I couldn't get more than ten words in before my voice failed me. There was no way for me to continue; that was the pinnacle moment, when I had failed at everything my name meant, when I hadn't been the big brother that my younger sisters had so desperately needed.
Zangetsu offered wordless support and shifted slightly, and I continued, pouring out everything that happened to me, the months I spent pulling myself together, the time Urahara spent shut away in his lab, and the final journey I took through the modified Senkaimon.
By the time I stopped speaking, my voice was hoarse from talking so much after so many months of little use; calling out orders and fighting was far different than pouring out your life story.
It was the first time I'd really recounted the war without skipping over nearly everything, and that knowledge was a little depressing. At the same time, I felt the weight that had rested on my shoulders ease slightly, as though some of the responsibility I carried for the war had lifted. It was a strange feeling, but I welcomed it.
After about ten minutes of muted silence, in which even the graveyard itself seemed to be respecting all that had happened, Zangetsu spoke, his voice unusually soft.
"You good?"
I took a deep breath, scanning my mother's gravestone and engraving it in my memory over the mental picture I had of that same grave destroyed, nothing more than a patch of rubble in a decimated town.
This was a new life. I had to remember that.
"Yeah." There was a wealth of emotion in that one word that I didn't bother to examine. "I'm good."
I felt Zangetsu shift, and then he was standing up. He offered his hand and I took it, allowing myself to be pulled to my feet. After searching my face for a few seconds, Zangetsu grinned in his usual unsettling way, apparently having found what he was looking for.
"Happy ta have ya back."
And then he vanished, returning to my inner world.
"Are you ready, Ichigo?"
Yeah, Old Man.
"Yoruichi is at the edge of the graveyard."
"She thinks she can hide her Reiatsu from us. Funny."
Rolling my eyes and then schooling my expression into its usual blankness, I turned around and stuffed my hands into my pockets. After casting out my senses, I picked up the distinctly feline signature making its way in my direction. Mentally counting, I got all the way to fifteen seconds before a black cat crested the hill nearby. It trotted in my direction, eventually sitting on its haunches in front of me to regard me with yellow eyes.
"Yoruichi Shihōin," I said evenly. She tilted her head.
"Ichigo. What are you doing here?"
I flicked my gaze to my mom's gravestone and back, slowly allowing one eyebrow to creep up. Yoruichi got the message.
"Ah, I'm sorry."
"Don't be. It wasn't your fault." My expression returned to normal. "What brings you here, Yoruichi?"
Her eyes were still on the grave. "I can't help but feel otherwise, at least a little."
I sighed, shrugging ever so slightly. "If that's what you're going to think, fine. But you didn't answer my question."
The cat was silent for a moment, but only for a moment. "I was curious. What are you going to do now? You killed Aizen, which was apparently your entire mission when you came back. Did you plan for after that?"
I smiled humorlessly. "You know me, Yoruichi."
It was difficult to read her expression when she wasn't human. "I knew the old you, Ichigo. I hate to sound cliché, but I do not know you now."
The only indication I gave of how her words stung was a slight tightening of my expression, but I let it slide. "Well, that doesn't matter. I know what I'm going to do." I looked up, checking the position of the sun. "In fact, there's something I have to do right now. Yoruichi, can you bring my body to Kiskuke's shop?"
"Sure, Ichigo, but how are you going to get out of your...body..."
I took a deep breath and concentrated for a split second on the tenuous connection between my soul and body. With practiced ease, I severed that connection, and stepped out of my body in full Shinigami attire. Yoruichi's voice died, and she stared.
Admittedly, since my body was still growing and adjusting to my soul's new appearance, the experience was much stranger than I remembered. Not to mention that I had died in my timeline, so my body now was much more difficult to enter and exit than it had been during the war (at least, when the war was in early enough stages that I had time to be in my body).
My body slumped to the ground as gracefully as a sack of potatoes, and I winced when my forehead slammed into the brick walkway.
Whoops.
Yoruichi was a cat, but even I could see the confusion and slyness that slid into her expression. I knew exactly what was coming next: she was going to try and make me feel uncomfortable, preferably with much spluttering and flushing.
"Ichigo, are you sure you want me...handling your body? After all, I will need to switch to human form to do so, and I don't have any clothes with me at the moment." Her eyes sparkled. "Unless, of course, you do want me to?"
"Do what you want, Yoruichi," I replied easily. "But please try to remember that I am still a virgin in this timeline. You wouldn't want to spoil that, would you?"
This time, Yoruichi was the one spluttering.
"If anyone asks where I am," I continued as if I hadn't said anything at all, "tell them I'm having one of my sulking days and don't want to be disturbed."
"Kisuke will see your body," Yoruichi pointed out, recovering her wits. I smirked.
"Let him draw his own conclusions." I cocked my head. "Unless you don't want to pull one over on the master of pulling things over?"
Yoruichi's grin rivaled Zangetsu's, which looked rather strange on a cat. "Of course not. I will see you when you get back, Ichigo." She frowned. "Which reminds me, where are you going, exactly?"
"Hueco Mundo."
I had ripped open a Garganta and jumped through it before the Flash Goddess could formulate her next words, leaving her gaping next to my soulless body. I had time to think that the expression was out of place on a cat's face, but then darkness swallowed me up and I directed my attention away from the world I was leaving behind.
Time to deal with the Arrancar.
(Abridged original A/N) There we go. Yeah, I kind of followed canon for this, but I really wanted to write that inner world scene because frankly, Ichigo needed it. And I like Zangetsu, so the inner hollow got his own time to shine.
Until next time, whenever that may be,
-RoR
Please review.
(9-11-14: some of you may be thinking, "But Rayneeeee, how can there be Arrancar if Aizen dieeeeeed and didn't transform theeeeeem? Good question, audience. The answer? I'm assuming that Aizen was making trips to Hueco Mundo before his big reveal. That way, he already had most of the Espada formed.)