"…The first of the Trials, my boy, will be a test of your mind. I cannot tell you exactly what you'll face, but expect the unexpected, keep your wits about you, and be confident that you'll make it through. I have faith in you, Ichigo…"

The words of the previous King running through his head, the incumbent Prince dodged the latest trap he'd triggered. "Shit!" He swore, as a spear large enough to split him in two flew through the air where his head had been seconds ago.

Now laid flat on the ground, the orangette surveyed the walls to either side of his body. Smooth, red bricks that glistened in the near constant twilight of the sky like they were wet. The floor was similar, and the hallway he was in the middle of seemed to stretch on forever in both directions. Logically he knew it wouldn't, but he wasn't totally sure logic prevailed in this world.

The clouds above him were a sickly greenish-purple, and lightning flashed momentarily casting the entire scene in brilliant blue-white. The sky beyond was a perpetual gradient of navy into bloody orange at the horizon, which he couldn't see at the moment thanks to the walls around him. It was disorienting the same way that Hueco Mundo was. He could have been in this maze for hours or days; he no longer knew. When was the last time he'd turned? Before the poison darts or after the swinging scythe?

He sat up gingerly, wary for a second spear as the traps lately had a habit of doing that, and looked around again. Just up ahead—or was it behind?—was a turn to the left. Left was forward, right? GAH! He held his head, beginning to feel the strain of constantly second guessing his choices. Damn this maze! Damn this dimension! Heh, there's irony. Being careful of the button he'd stepped on that triggered the spear, he stood and began walking toward the turn.

He didn't dare run his hand along the wall. The last time he'd done that he'd gotten stuck. The tingling on the palm of his hand reminded him of the fact that he had to leave some of his skin behind in removing the thing. His rear end hurt too. That was from dodging the first set of poison darts, and by Kami he was sweating. Whoever came up with the idea that Hell should be hot had won a special place on Ichigo's Must Kill list.

"Giving up already, Prince?" The disembodied voice that had haunted him from the moment he stepped into the maze broke through his reverie as he contemplated turning left or staying straight.

"No!" He growled, and glared up at the sky.

He didn't know why, but it felt like that's where the voice was coming from. So he glared his deepest scowl and set off down the perpendicular hallway. Almost immediately he began to regret his decision as darkness settled over his vision. He froze. He was still aware, so that meant he hadn't passed out, but he'd thought the maze was open to the air, so how could there be darkness pervading the hallway? He turned around but the light never came back. Growling in frustration, he turned around again and strode angrily forward.

"Ah. Ah. Ah. Tackling the puzzles of the maze with your temper won't get you very far." The voice was grating on his nerves, but he couldn't help the feeling that he knew it; deep and slow, rumbling like distant thunder.

"Hmph." He stilled again, this time to breathe, because as irritating as it was, the voice was right. He wouldn't be able to get through the maze if he was angry. He'd make mistakes and the implication was that if he failed he'd be trapped in Hell. Once his mind was clear again he stepped forward, all of his other senses on high alert now that he'd been rendered blind by the darkness.

He was vaguely reminded of the training he'd been put through under the Fullbringer, Ginjou, and it helped to keep his focus on his ears and his feet. Twice he felt a breeze that could have meant other openings to the right, but having decided that left was forward, Ichigo ignored them.

Again time seemed to fall away and he had no idea how long he walked in darkness before an opening to left caught his attention. At least there was nothing on the floor to have been triggered, but turning into the new hallway brought no relief from the darkness. In fact it seemed to have gotten worse.

From a secluded viewing gallery above the maze Grimmjow and Ginrei watched Ichigo make his way through the maze. The panther sucked in his breath as his Kitten tripped over a wire, landing palms first into a sand pit. There were blades in the sand and if he wasn't careful he'd lose his hands to lacerations in the peachy flesh. The orangette sliced the center of one hand before he got out of the pit. From this perspective there was no darkness, but the observers could tell their target was still dealing with it.

"Do ya have ta—" He broke off, knowing instinctively that the Lord of Hell wouldn't answer.

The giant of a man sat back in an impressive throne, his large hands resting on the arms of the chair, and his wavy brown hair falling over one eye. A crown of bones perched on his head. His left arm was encased in red and black. His right, in red and white. Incongruent to his noble appearance he wore a Hawaiian shirt and jeans, having discovered an affinity for the clothing during his stay in the Living World. He sighed, "Be a bit more careful there, Highness. Losing too much blood in there could be just as dangerous as losing your temper. We wouldn't want you to run across any of my hounds, now would we?"

The panther shook his head, growling lowly in spite of the sympathetic looks he received from both Ginrei and the Lord of Hell. He muttered, "C'mon, Kitten, ya c'n do it."

Now free of the sand, Ichigo sat himself against the wall, without touching the sticky surface, to clean the wound on his right palm. He hissed at the pain, and tried to control his breathing. To sum it up, this sucked! He was still without vision, and now he was going to be distracted by his hand, unable to use it.

Groaning, he used his left to push himself back up to standing; his legs were getting tired too, which could only have meant days of walking. He sighed, cradling his right hand to his chest, and set off down the hallway again. Another ten to twenty steps and he felt the button under his foot sink into the floor. He cursed and strained his ears to hear the whatever it was that could be coming. As such he was entirely focused on listening, so when the sound of a bomb hit him, he screamed.

His hands flew to his ears, and he fell to his knees, paralyzed by the sound. Then it disappeared—completely. He couldn't even hear the air around him. His eyes went wide, not that he could see anything but he could feel the muscles move. He was deaf! The feeling of something wet on his fingers told him that his eardrums had been ruptured by the sound. He screamed again, panting and he could feel tears on his cheeks. No one told him if the damage he sustained here was permanent, but he could only guess that if he failed it would be.

It was that thought alone that got him back on his feet. To never be able to hear the velvet purring his Consort used to comfort him when things got to be overwhelming was a cold and sharp stab through his heart. It spurred him onward, one step, then another, then a third. Then he was running in a blind panic. He didn't care if it wasn't intelligent to crash through a maze both blind and deaf, let alone in the Hell dimension.

It took—however long it took—before his mind came back to him. He was out of breath, panting heavily. After several minutes of panting he realized the air was heavy around him. Frowning he lifted his nose and inhaled deeply. What was that?! Mint? He knew that scent! Grimmjow! He took off like a shot, just as fast, but more carefully, regularly raising his nose to the air and inhaling. Come on, keep it up, just a little bit more.

Up in the observation room, the panther paced back and forth in front of the glass. His tail lashed. "Deaf! Ya had ta make him deaf?!" He yelled for the fourth time since the explosion.

Now that the Prince couldn't hear, the Lord of Hell was free to speak, "You know I have to bring out his inner desperation. This pains me as much as it pains you, Grimmjow. He has to fully experience what life is like here, otherwise he could become jaded in the act of judging souls. No one should be sentenced to Hell unless they truly deserve it."

"I know all that!" The blunette huffed and leaned against the reiatsu wall shielding them from the maze. The only good news was that with whatever it was that was directing Ichigo in the maze, the orangette was making good progress. A few more twists and turns and he'd be out of the maze. The worst part was yet to come though, because the last turn before the end was a four-way intersection, and three of the pathways led back into the center of the maze. This knowledge let the panther relax. He sat cross-legged at the glass and sighed, his tail stilling all but the very tip.

Time was running out, Ichigo didn't know how he could tell, but he felt it pressing down on him like a weight on his back. He still couldn't see, couldn't hear, and his hands were useless—his left covered in torn skin from resting it against the wall, his right slashed open by the blades in the sand pit. His legs shook, but he pressed forward, following that heavenly scent. Suddenly he realized why Grimmjow always described people by how they smelled.

He came to an intersection. The first one since he lost his sight. The breeze against his cheeks told him there were three possibilities. Logic told him that the wrong choice would lead him back. He walked carefully out into the center of the cross, and looked from side to side. He raised his nose and breathed, but nothing. The scent was gone!

He cried out in frustration. He was sure he was close. Only twice before had he come upon intersections like this. Once shortly after he'd entered the maze, and once in the very middle of it. The first time, every turn after it had been right to move forward, left to go back. After the second, they reversed. Left was forward and right was back. So, again logically going straight should take him out of the maze, but logic didn't rule here. So, did that mean going back was going forward? AUGH! Why couldn't he smell it anymore? Why couldn't he smell anything anymore? He was so close to the end of this madness.

That was the point, wasn't it? This was madness. Designed to deliberately push him to the ends of his sanity. He had to prove he understood how horrible it was, didn't he? So, blind, deaf, unable to feel, and now, no longer to smell his Consort's reiatsu, he stood and began walking, slowly, toward the direction from which he'd come. If this was about throwing caution to the wind and accepting that everything sucks, then he'd do just that. If he wound up walking the maze for the rest of eternity, stripped of his senses, he would, but maybe, just maybe, he'd find his way back out again. As soon as he made that decision he began to feel the breeze on his cheeks again. Another ten steps brought an itchy feeling to his hands and flexing them he felt his wounds cleaning themselves and disappearing. Ten more steps and a low rushing sound broke through the silence that had tormented him since the explosion. Inwardly rejoicing he kept walking, deliberately ignoring the way things seemed to be looking up in the hopes that continuing to allow the maze to do what it wanted to him he'd escape. The end of that thought brought a return of light to his vision. Gradually he began to make out the walls and floor of the maze around him. Just as he could see the clouds above again, the walls ended, and he was standing in the middle of an open courtyard. In the middle was his Zanpakutou, stabbed into the ground.

He grabbed the bandage-wrapped hilt, and in the rush of reconnecting with the spirits that lived in his mindscape he missed the change of landscape around him. A flash of light and he was joined by those in the observation box.

"Ichigo!" Grimmjow wrapped his King in his arms, purring heavily, praying that his hearing had been returned.

"Oh Grimm!" He buried his nose in the blue hair at the base of his Consort's conical ear inhaling deeply of that minty scent that had been his guiding light.

The rumbling disembodied voice broke their reunion. "Well done, Ichigo." A very familiar face smiled down at him.

"Chado!?" The orangette was floored. Wasn't his friend Human? And if he was here, who was going to protect his family in the Living World? Ishida?! Ha! "What are you doing here?!"

A smile broke across the giant's face. "I've always been the Lord of Hell, Ichigo, but unlike the Spirit King I'm allowed to keep tabs on the heir to the throne as he grows up."

Ichigo's mind was blown. His best friend—well, that probably meant that they'd been best friends for millennia. "So? You've always been the Lord of Hell? Like, forever?"

"Yeah." Sado was still smiling that 'I've got your back' smile that had been the cement between them all those years ago. "You've fought for me and I've fought for you since before time was even called time."

It was a lot to take in, but somehow it seemed to make sense. The ease with which the two had partnered up. The way Sado could always keep up with him, even after he'd obtained Shinigami powers. The smirk on the Prince's face broke out into a grin. This was awesome! Then he stumbled and leaned back against Grimmjow's chest.

Ginrei spoke up, "Your Lordship, I need to take His Highness back to the Spirit Dimension in preparation for the second trial." He bowed lowly.

"Right. See ya, Ichigo." His normal silence was back now that he wasn't trying to spur his best friend on through the maze.

Grimmjow nodded, and Ichigo concentrated on the World Step that he used for a quick return to his quarters in the Royal Palace. The three of them were gone with a wave, and the Lord of Hell smiled. Yes, his friend was definitely going to make it through. He wasn't even concerned about the third trial, where many an incarnation had failed.

A/N: I have not seen the Bleach movie where Ichi goes to Hell, and I don't count the movies in any of my head cannons. So I described what I see as could be a Hell Dimension. Hope you liked it. Ja ne, minna!