This chapter has been revised as of 3/2/2018.

(and then revised again as of 6/18/18 because of a minor plot hole)

Okay, so, slight explanation: I was rereading this story to remember what happened so I could write the next chapter and, while I could grit my teeth through the previous chapters, I...couldn't deal with the old version of this chapter. It was ridiculous. It's still ridiculous, but it's better now.

Trust me. It's better.


Chapter 12

I prowled the streets of Karakura Town, restless and agitated for reasons I couldn't pin down. My Zanpakutō spirits were oddly quiet in my head, perhaps sensing my tense mood. Not even the cool breeze or the mostly quiet night (as quiet as it could get in Karakura, at least) could calm me down.

The resolution of the Kasumiōji situation had only brought me momentary satisfaction. Now there were darker things looming on the horizon, problems that would require me to intervene in a far more personal way than I had in the Kasumiōji conspiracy.

My scowl deepened just from thinking about it.

After ten minutes of pacing up and down the same street, I let out a frustrated groan.

"This is getting me nowhere," I muttered, tilting my head up to look at the sky. Thanks to the fact that I had been suppressing my Reiatsu more than I had the first time around, hollows were less common around the city than before, though they were still drawn to Karakura because of its abundance of Reishi. It gave me far fewer opportunities to take out my anger on hollows stupid enough to come to Karakura Town.

One such hollow ripped open a Garganta far too close to me and was eviscerated before even leaving the opening of its portal.

Unfortunately, the brief (and convenient) encounter did nothing to help me; in fact, it only made things worse. My fingers were tapping a restless rhythm on Zangetsu's hilt at my waist, and after catching myself for the third time, I gave up.

Screw it. I need to talk to someone.

But who could I talk to? My dad was out of the question, as were most of my friends and family. Hell, there were only two people that really knew my secret that were nearby: Kisuke and Yoruichi. I couldn't talk to Kisuke; I respected him immensely, but he wasn't the kind of person to go to for calming conversation unless it was a really desperate situation and he was the only person keeping perfectly calm.

Yoruichi, then. Hopefully the cat woman was at Kisuke's shop. She tended to wander around often, though from what I'd observed she'd been spending more time with the shopkeeper lately.

Probably because she was torturing him with the fact that she knew more than he did, which would drive Kisuke up the wall more than anything.

I would be willing to talk to Shinji—hell, I would like to talk to Shinji—but he and the Visored were off doing their own thing at the moment and Kisuke wouldn't tell me where they were. I might have been able track them down, but knowing Hacchi it would take me way too long, especially since they'd been hiding from Soul Society for over a century. One lonely not-quite-teenager wouldn't have an easy time of finding them unless they wanted to be found.

Plan set, I turned on my heel and began walking towards Kisuke's shop, deciding to avoid using Shunpo or Sonido to give myself slightly more time to cool off. If I could do so without talking to Yoruichi, I wouldn't be that upset, but I got the feeling that things weren't going to be that simple. I managed to reign in my Reiatsu, knowing that if I let too much slip my dad would be able to sense it from the house and he'd get even more worried than he already was.

Of course, he was out of town for the night for some kind of medical meeting. I hadn't gotten many details before he danced out the door. Even so, there was no point to just letting my Reiatsu leak out when I was perfectly capable of keeping it hidden. The fewer souls affected by my power—however slightly—the better.

Several minutes later, I walked into Kisuke's shop, raising an eyebrow at the slightly opened door. Was someone else there? The Reiatsu-muffling nature of the walls made it impossible to detect anyone.

Footsteps silent, I ghosted forward, only to freeze when I heard a very familiar voice.

"Kisuke—no, I'm done. I won't play along anymore." Play along? "I'm worried about him. And all these reasons you've given me don't explain the changes. You know something; if it's that bad I need to know so I can helpIchigo, not just comfort him for five minutes when those nightmares he's been having overwhelm the Kidō barrier he sets up!"

Dad. So the medical conference was a lie, then.

"And why does my son even have knowledge of a barrier like that? It's advanced stuff! He shouldn't know it at his age!"

I crept forward a few more steps to pick out Kisuke's words.

"Isshin, Ichigo trusted me with this information. I can't just give it to you, especially without his permission."

"What's stopping you? I'm his father, Kisuke."

I took the conflicting storm of emotions threatening to overwhelm me and crammed it into the box. Still as stone, I listened.

"I'm well aware. I'm sorry, but I can't reveal your son's secrets as though they were my own. Not this time, Isshin."

All thoughts of intruding on the discussion to ask where Yoruichi disappeared. Half of me railed against eavesdropping; that half wanted to leave, to process. The other, analytical half held me in place. If I listened, I could understand my dad's position and adjust my behavior accordingly.

Cynicism snuck through the walls in my mind: god, I almost hate myself.

I heard my father sigh. "If that's how it is, Kisuke, then I'll respect that. But please, if something else happens—" he took a shuddering breath, and I processed on some level that I felt like screaming, "if something happens, let me know. Please."

Kisuke's next words barely reached me, they were so quiet. "I will, Isshin. If it was something I thought your son couldn't handle, I would."

"You don't have to defend yourself. It's just . . . my powers are almost completely recovered, and—"

"You want to help your son."

"Yes, Kisuke, I do." Caught between two halves, I pressed my nails into my palm. Control. "Ichigo needs someone at his back, and he's already got his friends, but if he knows that Karin and Yuzu can be protected even if he's not there it'll be one less weight on his shoulders."

He knew me too well. Beneath his goofy exterior, my dad was still a Shinigami captain, with all the experience that entailed.

"You want to protect your son?"

"Yes, Kisuke, I do. Because he's only sixteen and he shouldn't have to do this alone."

Not sixteen.

God, I thought from some third perspective watching the other two, I really do hate myself.

I could logically reason where my dad was coming from. I had always been the supporter of my family. After Mom had died, I'd taken up as many of her duties as I could, even going so far as to teach Yuzu the basics of cooking until she could reach the pots and pans by herself. When Karin needed help, I was there, and when she started showing an interest in soccer I went out to the fields with her to help her practice. I'd spent the first few years after Mom died just protecting my sisters and making sure that my dad wasn't actually going off the deep end. Every bully that went after me had initially taken a jab at my sisters only to find out what the inside of an ambulance looked like minutes later.

Goat-Face had bailed me out of most of the trouble I got into, but in the end the responsibility of protecting my sisters and keeping them happy and safe fell to me. Dad wasn't really in the picture beyond his circus-act parenting performance. All the fallout of my life was my own to deal with.

Teachers had called me a demon when they thought I wasn't listening, not that I cared. As long as my family and friends were safe, I was content with whatever came my way. But I'd never felt the same thing in return. Sure, Karin and Yuzu had thanked me and done everything they could to help, but I'd been their source of strength, an infallible barrier that protected them and not the other way around.

And Goat-Face, for all his ridiculousness at home, had always left me to my own devices when it came to fighting. He treated Karin and Yuzu like princesses and ignored me. I was fine with that.

But now . . . now he was paying attention. And he was worried.

So were Karin and Yuzu. I could see it in their eyes and the way that Yuzu always gently prodded me with questions about my well being under the guise of being her usual caring self.

All things that hadn't been in the previous timeline. Well aware of the attention of my two Zanpakutō spirits, I refocused on my father and Kisuke.

"You really care about him, don't you?"

"Of course I do. He's my son."

There hadn't been anything like that in the war. I'd been the frontline fighter of the army, charging ahead to save scattered Shinigami. They trusted me, knew that I could stand straight under my own power. Even when things got desperate, even when I fell apart, my friends hoisted me up and left it at that, trusting that I could handle it. To be fair, I had never given them any indication that I couldn't.

And my dad? Oh, he'd been there. We'd tried to reconnect, but in the haze of war there wasn't much time for family bonding. Our whole lives were water under the bridge until the battles were won.

"I can't tell you anything," Kisuke repeated, drawing me from my thoughts. "Isshin, I would, but it's not up to me."

"Bullshi—"

"He's your son. Talk to him."

I could recognize a cue when I heard one; there wasn't else to be learned tonight. I snuck back down the hall, grabbed my body, and headed home. The rain continued, heavy enough to be annoying, light enough to warrant no action.

I made it all the way through my door before the wave caught up to me. Dropping my body and closing the door with a shaking hand, I took another two steps before the world blurred and I stopped.

I drew in a trembling breath and squeezed my eyes shut. I wiped away the tears that leaked out.

"Dammit."

"I-Ichigo?" Kon. I'd forgotten about him. "Is everything all right?"

"Fine," I said, wrestling for control over my emotions. "Just . . . go back to sleep, Kon."

"But—"

"Go back to sleep, Kon," I ordered, filling my posture and tone with authority. "Please," I added softly, recognizing that I'd gone too far. Kon visibly flinched but backed off, returning to a space in my closet that he had cleared out. I walked over and gently shut the door before sealing it with Kidō.

I held my hand against the wood for a few seconds before balling it into a fist and resting my forehead against the door as well.

"Sorry, Kon."

With the sound-silencing Kidō that also trapped Kon in the closet, there was no way for the small mod soul to get out or let anyone know he was in there, at least for the night.

Turning away from my closet, I dragged my body onto the bed, fully intent on collapsing and forcing myself into some semblance of an unconscious state.

But there was something on my bed, something under my body. Something that wasn't normally there. How I hadn't noticed it before was beyond me, and I warily examined it. It didn't seem dangerous, but I'd been fooled before.

My eyes finally adjusted to the dark. Confusion warred with caution until I gave in. I fell back into my body and then stood, taking the object with me so I could examine it.

"A teddy bear?" I muttered, confused.

Who would . . .?

Realization—in the form of memories—hit me like a sledgehammer.

"Big brother! It's my birthday!"

"Hey, Yuzu," Karin called from the stairs, a smile on her face, "don't forget that it's my birthday too!"

I smiled, reaching into my bag. "I got you both something."

"Really?" Karin and Yuzu both asked, their eyes going wide and shiny with wonder. "What is it?" they chorused, Karin quickly moving to stand next to her twin sister, all serious pretenses having been abandoned at the mere mention of a gift.

I just kept smiling, holding the two presents just out of their reach. "C'mon, just jump!"

They pouted and, had I not built up immunity to it, the adorableness they radiated would have knocked me over.

"C'mon, Ichigo," Yuzu said, sticking her lip out. "I can't reach that!"

"Lower it!" Karin insisted, straining to reach the present hovering over her head. "C'mon, Ichigo, stop rubbing in how tall you are!"

"Are you jealous of my growth spurt?" I teased gently, lowering the presents to let Karin and Yuzu get them. The twins eagerly grabbed the gifts but politely waited for me to nod before opening them.

Karin, the first to remove the wrapping paper, let out a whoop when she saw the videogame I had gotten her.

"Thank you, Ichigo!"

Yuzu opened her gift and cooed, gently lifting it out of the wrapping paper and hugging it to her chest. "It's so cute, Ichigo! Thank you so much!"

"You're welcome, you guys," I said, ruffling their hair. "Here, give me the wrapping paper. I'll throw it away; you two go have fun."

While I was in the kitchen, my gaze flicked to the note pinned to the refrigerator in my dad's messy scrawl.

'Ichigo, I have a sudden medical conference! Take care of Yuzu and Karin while I'm gone and let them know that daddy is so terribly sorry he missed their wonderful eighth birthday!'

I scowled at the note. The expression only went away that night, when I saw Yuzu fast asleep with the teddy bear I had given her clutched in her arms and a smile on her face.

The bear's stitches were beginning to give out from the strength of my grip. I relaxed my hand and stared at the old, worn thing. One eye was missing, replaced with a button. Miscellaneous stains that no number of washings had been able to get out spattered the fur. The stuffing had come out in a few places, and though Yuzu had sewn everything together again, some of the limbs sagged.

It looked tired.

I noticed the note that had been hidden under the bear. It was Yuzu's handwriting, rushed but still impressively neat.

'Ichigo—you've been stressed lately so I thought having this would help! Karin won't say so, but she agrees!"

I could practically picture Yuzu writing the letter and my insides twisted. Yuzu had treasured the bear; even in the dark I could see how worn it was from the number of times Yuzu had played with it and dressed it up. She'd grown incredibly attached to it and whenever we had to travel too far she always worried that it would grow lonely. Hell, she didn't even let Goat-Face get near the thing.

I swallowed and squeezed my eyes shut. Seemed like everyone knew something was wrong with me. 'Course, they'd never guess the truth, not on their own.

Ever.

The realization made the situation seem even more absurd and I grimaced, knowing that there was a tidal wave of sadness and despair buried in my heart, one that I had only skimmed the surface of. I hadn't realized it before, but it was a massive part of the pressing weight on my shoulders, the weight of deaths I hadn't been able to prevent, deaths that I should've been able to stop. It had never really hit me that it affected me that much; no wonder my dad had flinched the first time I saw him. He must have seen it in my eyes, however briefly.

Another tear slipped down my face and I rubbed it away.

I haven't cried in so damn long.

I blinked and rubbed away the rest of the wetness in my eyes. It took me a few minutes to calm my breathing and soon after the silence of the night settled around. Not even a stray hollow's cry filled the air.

I felt—numb. Empty. The wave was gone, travelling back out to sea until it came again.

Yuzu's bear still in hand, I stripped, threw on the nearest pajamas on the floor, and closed my eyes. For the first time since I'd come back in time, I slipped into a dreamless sleep, holding Yuzu's teddy bear like a lifeline.


Groaning and trying to ignore the rapidly approaching footsteps coming toward my door in favor of gaining a few more seconds of quiet, I stretched and sat up in bed, blinking to clear my eyes. Something almost fell, but I grabbed it before it hit the ground and, recognizing the fuzzy material in my hands, realized I'd grabbed the bear.

I paused in the middle of putting it back on my bed. Something wasn't right.

Ever since the war, I had days every now and then in which I felt like a stranger in my own skin, like someone who didn't belong. It didn't matter how much I tried to deal with what had happened or who I talked to; the feeling persisted every few weeks.

Apparently, today was going to be one of those days.

At least it wasn't a total breakdown. I'd had more than enough of those lately. Even so, today was going to be difficult; I knew that much without even getting out of bed.

"GOOOOOOOOOOOD—" my father's voice interrupted my thinking and I winced at his impressive and still rising volume—"MOOOOOOOORNIIIIIIIIIIIIIING—" how the guy still had functional vocal chords was something I would never understand-"ICHIIIGOOOOOOO!"

My door burst open with a jarring bang. Goat-Face gracefully flew inside, his face stretched into a predatory grin that melted into a look of fear when he saw that I was already standing with one fist held out. Unable to stop himself, my father, the incurable idiot, slammed face-first into my fist. He groaned and ungracefully fell to the floor.

"Good morning," I said. "What a great way to wake up your teenage son so early in the morning. Get out before you run into my fist again."

He was up and smiling again in an instant. "Of course, my overly irritable and hormonal young son!"

My reflexive scowl was met by gleeful laughter as my dad left my room, chased by a pillow that narrowly missed his head. Once my father was gone, I sighed and fell back onto my bed, staring up at the blank ceiling with an equally blank expression.

"Oi. No goin ta school today, got it?"

Right. Wouldn't want to repeat the last time.

"To be fair, the kid deserved it."

"Zangetsu," the Old Man warned. The hollow spirit subsided with a grumble.


Skipping school entirely for the first time in a long time, I stayed in my room and simply stared at the walls while trying to figure out why I felt so wrong. Every time I thought I was getting close to the answer, it slipped away along with any level of concentration I had managed to build up.

Instead of trying to think I just listened to the rain pouring outside. The rain from last night had stuck around and mutated into a thunderstorm. Lightning forked the sky and angry, rolling thunder soon followed, rumbling enough to shake my bones.

With a sigh, I turned over, staring at the doors to my closet.

"Ichigo! Dinner!"

I blinked. Had time really passed that quickly? I glanced at the clock. Yeah, it had. Getting up, I pushed my hair out of my eyes and mused that I'd need to get it cut again. My body kept growing to match my soul, which was fine except for the fact that my hair grew twice as fast.

I walked down the stairs, heeding Yuzu's call for dinner. My dad had already tried to ambush me as soon as I'd reached the bottom of the staircase and had been dealt with accordingly, but I still felt off.

I could feel the worry of the other pieces of my soul, muted but there all the same. The hollowfied Zangetsu summed up the situation with an attempt at reassurance.

"Ya did go back in time. Hell, I'm surprised you're holdin' up as well as you are."

Though the words almost sounded callous, there was genuine concern in my hollowfied Zanpakutō's voice. I knew my Quincy side agreed with the sentiment.

"Thanks," I muttered as I walked into the kitchen. I made an effort to return my expression to something approaching amicable. The smell of food reminded me that I'd had very little to eat that day. "Hey, Yuzu."

"Ichigo! We're having chicken and rice tonight, okay?"

"If you made it I'm sure it'll be delicious," I said, walking over to the table only to be interrupted by my father. His foot missed my face by centimeters and I ducked and whirled on instinct, catching him by the leg and slamming him into the floor hard enough to conceivably break bones. As usual, however, my father got up with no sign of injury.

"Oh, you're not getting in an attack like that without revenge!"

He came after me again and I grit my teeth in frustration because I just couldn't focus. One of my father's punches slipped through my guard, followed by a kick to my chest that sent me flying into a wall. It didn't break, but the shock of the impact set my nerves on fire. I couldn't stop my Reiatsu from fluctuating, and my dad must've sensed it—I saw his eyes narrow.

I couldn't stay here. Yuzu and Karin were already looking at me quizzically. I grit my teeth, wishing I could go back up to my room and start the whole week all over again. Of course, it didn't work that way. Time stops for no man and all that.

Isshin took a step forward as though to help me up, but I beat him to it. I got to my feet and glanced back at the wall to make sure that it wasn't damaged. Miraculously, there was no sign of even a dent. How my dad managed to get just the right enough force to send me flying without real damage was beyond me.

"I'm fine," I said quietly. I couldn't make eye contact with my family and I no longer felt even the slightest bit hungry. "I'm going out."

"In this storm?" Yuzu protested. She looked even more worried now, but recognized that I wasn't going to be deterred. "Ichigo, at least take a jacket. And an umbrella; you don't want to catch cold."

"Look what you did, Goat-Face," Karin commented, her expression angry on my behalf. "It's your constant attacks that make Ichigo miss meals."

"I'll be back soon," I offered, which was probably a lie.

I opened the door and left, hearing Karin chew out Goat-Face until the door closed and shut away her voice. Once outside, I took a deep breath. With one last glance back at the house, I began to walk.

The rain lashed against my skin, soaking my shirt and shorts and shoes almost immediately. A jacket would have been a good idea, but I wasn't going back, not after seeing Yuzu and Karin's obvious worry. I kept walking, every step painfully deliberate as I left my house. I couldn't be there tonight.

It hurt.

I walked through the storm, ignoring the flashes of lightning that lit up the heavens and split them for less than a second before fading to nothing. A car nearly hit me as I crossed the road, but I ignored the driver's yelling. I couldn't make out the words over the wind and rain anyway.

The shop I had barely realized I was walking to loomed through the darkness and I opened the door, knowing without even caring enough to really check that Kisuke was already there. The shopkeeper stood a few meters away, his usual enigmatic smile plastered over his features.

"Wow, Ichigo, you look . . . wet." Kisuke's tone went from cheery to concerned to very worried in the space of five words and I looked up at him, making eye contact. Even the scientist, known for his half-truths and incredible ability to hide everything, couldn't stop his eyes from widening as his smile changed to a worried frown. "Ichigo?"

I closed my eyes. Breathe. "I'm all right. Just needed a minute out of the rain."

"Wait here," Kisuke ordered. I shivered, dripping wet and cold and only now realizing that I was probably dirtying the floor of Kisuke's shop. When he returned with a soft towel that he wrapped around me, however, I couldn't see any hint of anger or reproach in him. I held the towel like a shield around me.

For a minute, I stood still, eyes shadowed by my hair while my throat closed up. My breath came in short, quiet gasps and my shoulders were shaking from cold and something else. Clenching my hands into fists did nothing to ease the pain and I could feel tears leaking from my eyes.

"Fuck," I whispered. I used the towel to wipe my face and then walked past Kisuke. He didn't move and merely followed me with shadowed eyes.

"There's a back room open," he said, unmoving. "All the way down, on the right."

"Thanks," I said. He'd probably sensed my turbulent Reiatsu the moment I left my home.

I closed the door behind me and took three steps before collapsing to my knees. The wave was tidal now, sweeping away everything. I crawled to the wall and pressed my back into it. I didn't dare close my eyes; the dark held no solace for me here. Instead I grounded myself in the feeling of my skin pressed against cloth pressed against wood. It wasn't enough, but it was all I had.

"All you have? Don't give me that shit."

In a flash, the hollowfied portion of Zangetsu appeared in front of me, his eyes smoldering. "You're so annoying. All this walking around thinking about how you're different and no one understands. I'm sick of listenin' ta your complainin'. I tried ta be patient, I tried ta listen ta the Old Man, but you're insufferable." He jabbed a finger into my chest hard enough to hurt, staring at the appendage while his irritated voice carried over the distant sounds of the storm. "You shouldn't be questionin' that, King," he growled, shifting his finger to put it over my heart, "ya should be questionin' this."

I stared at his hand for a moment before batting it away. "Now's not the time for a deep discussion, Zangetsu. I'm tired."

"You're always tired!" Zangetsu snapped loud enough to startle me. "Holy fuck, do you not even notice? Ya go from one hundred percent to zero in three minutes and walk away like everyone's s'posed ta recognize that! And then ya have the audacity to claim later that everythin's fine!" He scowled. "Stop being tired!"

"It's not—"

"Don't give me that crap," Zangetsu interrupted. "You're gonna say that it's not somethin' ya can help. Bull-fucking-shit. It's your body! Your mind!"

"Stop," I hissed, fighting the urge to get to my feet. It wouldn't accomplish anything—and I, whether I liked it or not—knew Zangetsu had a point.

For the first time in months, Zangetsu looked me in the eye, set his jaw, and growled, "No."

"You—"

"Oh, shut up, King. I'm a sword driven by your will, remember?"

"What does that have to do with this?" I asked irritably.

"You should know. If ya don't have the will, I don't work right. Same with the Old Man. Ya gotta want t' use us for something."

"And?"

Zangetsu's eyes narrowed in annoyance. Mine narrowed right back, since he wasn't bothering to explain things in simple terms.

"Fine. I'll make this nice and simple for ya, since you're being stupid." Zangetsu took a deep breath, sat tall, and never broke eye contact. "You might as well be dead."

My retort died on my lips, replaced with a shocked, "What?"

Zangetsu leaned forward, recognizing that he'd caught me flat-footed. "You're a dead man walking."

I grit my teeth. "Oh? And why is that, huh?"

"You've got no will ta live!" Zangetsu's words cut through the air and his message stung like a whip. He took advantage of my speechlessness, spitting out what I knew to be true but didn't want to hear. "You defeated Aizen. Whoop-de-fuckin'-do. And then what? Ya had no plan. Ya knew it, too, tried ta bullshit your way through it like the dumbass you are. But reality's catchin' up and you're not ready ta deal with it, so ya think that runnin' away and hidin' in someone else's home is gonna fix it? Think again! You should know by now that runnin' isn't ever an option for you! You stay and fight no matter what! You're the one on the battlefield that can't turn his back! So why the fuck are you running now!"

"I have nothing to fight for!" I snapped, the words coming out before I could stop them. "It's over, okay? I thought I could handle what came next but it's the same thing day after day after day and no matter how much I try to get back with how things should be I can't! Is that what you wanted to hear? I fucking can't!"

"You can, and you will!" Zangetsu roared, drawing one hand back and punching me across the jaw. Heat bloomed in my face and I fell to one side, shock numbing the pain. Zangetsu stood and planted his foot on top of me, keeping me down. Rage burned in his eyes, rage that he'd hidden for the past few weeks while I sulked and brooded. "You're the king. ACT LIKE IT! Protect your crown or promises be damned I will take your body and destroy everything! Know that if you don't hold me back, if you don't drive my blade with a will of your own, my hunger will devour you whole. That is what it means to wield me, to wield Zangetsu. Find your purpose!"

"It's not that easy," I started, but Zangetsu was having none of it.

"The hell it isn't. Why did ya come back?"

"To defeat Aizen."

"Beyond that!"

I grit my teeth. "To stop my future from occurring again."

"Wrong, wrong, wrong!"

"To protect my friends and family!"

"Finally! There's your purpose, King! You're a protector and the vanguard, so get it through your thick skull that if you're gonna be any good ta anyone, ya need a purpose, and that purpose is ta protect, whether you're protectin' the future itself or your friends and family."

"I know all of this already," I said flatly. Zangetsu rolled his eyes and crouched in front of me, slowly reaching out and putting his hand on my head. He began to squeeze, making my skull ache.

"Then why," he hissed lowly, "have you been living with such dead eyes?" He released my head, though the pain remained. "Honestly, you're so stupid. Tryna act all tough when ya can't go a week without screaming inta your pillow. Stop runnin', King. You're not that weak."

I ground my teeth together. I wanted to say something, anything, but the words wouldn't come. My Zanpakutō had taken everything I'd been trying to avoid and condensed it into an argument that simultaneously infuriated and mollified me with how true it was.

Zangetsu sighed. I glanced up at him, watching as he lost the rigid lines in his spin and shoulders, his posture going from angry to resigned in a split second.

"Ya came ta Kisuke with no plan," he said quietly. "It's pourin' outside, the shopkeeper probably heard our little shouting match with his bugs 'n shit, and your family's gonna give you those worried looks the second you step through the door." He turned to me, raising one eyebrow in challenge as he crossed his arms. "Well, King, what're ya gonna do? Stay, leave, or a fun third option?"

I frowned at him. "You're annoying, did you know that?"

Zangetsu spluttered. "Don't ruin the moment, asshole!"

I slowly got to my feet. "Thanks, Zangetsu. I…deserved that."

"Ya did, especially for stiflin' the old man and I over the past couple'a days. Not sure what the fuck you were tryna accomplish there."

"You and I both," I muttered. I hadn't even been doing it intentionally. Zangetsu gave me a pointed look and then disappeared.

After taking a minute to collect myself, I walked out of the room and slid the door shut behind me. Stopping by Kisuke's counter, I grabbed a note and pen and quickly wrote a note of thanks and that he shouldn't worry about me.

It was still pouring outside, but I had one advantage now that I'd calmed down. Though I couldn't go very quickly, I was perfectly capable of using Shunpo in my human body. Stepping outside, I braced myself, and then shot to the rooftops, letting memory be my guide as I zigzagged from roof to roof. I nearly slipped a few times, but my reflexes saved me and I kept moving.

Going across town two times in one night was annoying, especially since it was storming so badly. Distantly, I heard a hollow's roar, and though I hesitated, I kept moving forward.

I'm not the only Shinigami here that can defeat these hollows.

Not everything was my responsibility. I always forgot that.

Huh.

I arrived sooner rather than later and put my hand to the door, hesitating. Was this really the right choice? There were other people I could go to, other people who would understand, but—

She's the only one that knows where it really started.

I knocked three times and waited. After almost a minute, the door eased open, the person behind it widening their eyes.

"Ichigo? What are you doing outside in a storm like this?"

"Tatsuki, I need to talk to you."

She stared, only blinking when a flash of lightning lit up the sky behind me. Then she sighed. "Fine, fine. Get in before you drown. Wait here; I'll get you a towel."

"Anyone else gettin' déjà vu?"

Once I was relatively dry, Tatsuki and I sat across from each other on two chairs. She leaned forward, her expression as intense as ever.

"So, Ichigo, what's up? No offense, but you and I don't really talk much anymore. At least, not like before."

The jab was subtle but still clear.

"Sorry about that," I said. "I guess I got distracted, in a way."

"In a way? What's that supposed to mean? And why do you have a bruise on your jaw? Did you get into another fight?"

I gingerly poked at the injury, remembering Zangetsu's angry words, and sighed. "Yeah, something like that."

"Don't treat it like it's not a big deal. A bruise is a bruise." Tatsuki got to her feet. "Wait here. I'm going to get some ice."

"Tatsuki, really, I—"

"Shut up." She glared at me, her annoyance clear. "I'm being nice, so accept it."

I sighed, but I knew she was right and that I was in the wrong. "Okay. Sorry."

"Idiot," Tatsuki muttered as she walked to her kitchen. She came back a minute later and tossed me an ice pack. I pressed it against my jaw, only then realizing how much that area ached. The ice would hopefully decrease the swelling, but it would definitely be there tomorrow, and now that Tatsuki had seen how bad it was, I couldn't just heal it. Then again, with what I was about to do…

I took a deep breath and set the ice pack aside.

"What are you—" Tatsuki began, but she went silent when the swollen bruise on my jaw slowly disappeared, the skin returning to its normal, healthy shade in less than a minute. She stared, her mouth open in shock. "Ichigo…?"

"I haven't been honest with you at all, Tatsuki," I said quietly. "Hell, I haven't been for years." I tipped my head back, staring at the ceiling as though it could somehow give me the right thing to say. But there were no right things to say, not now; there was only the truth. "Remember that time when we were kids? You asked me whether I could see ghosts or not. After all those rumors…and I told you I couldn't, and you believed me, and beat up anyone that tried to say otherwise."

"Ichigo…"

"But I lied. I lied because I was scared and stupid and young. I should have trusted you from the start but I was afraid that I'd drag you into my messes and you'd get hurt in the process. But that was wrong. You're strong and smart and you're my friend. So, I have to say I'm sorry. I'm sorry for lying, Tatsuki." I met her gaze, resigning myself to whatever came next. "I can see ghosts. And I can see a hell of a lot more than that, too."

Tatsuki's expression stayed shocked for all of two seconds before it morphed into annoyance. She closed her eyes and shook her head. "Dumbass. I knew that. You think I haven't noticed all the strange crap that goes on around you, Orihime, Uryū, and Chad? Of course I have." She opened her eyes. "I was just waiting for you to suck it up and tell me the truth.

"Even when I did pressure you about it, you kept lying to me. I could see those ghosts you were fighting, those monsters, but you always pretended like they didn't exist until you pulled out a sword and began fighting them."

"You knew the whole time?" I asked. "But—the memory erasure—"

"You erased my memories?" Tatsuki's eyebrow twitched. "Seriously? Well, that explains a lot. Don't think I'm going to forget that."

"Smooth."

"Anyway, I've known. That's why I confronted you. Though, I'm glad you finally got here." She glanced out the window. "'Course, you could've picked a better time to do it. So why now?"

"It's…a long story."

She raised one eyebrow. "Ichigo, I highly doubt that you came here without the intent to tell me."

"Yeah, you're right." I cleared my throat. "If it's not too much trouble, could I have a glass of water?"

"Sure."

Two minutes later, Tatsuki was sitting across from me, ready to listen. I stared at my hands, debating where to start.

"Always start from the beginning."

The beginning, huh?

I cleared my throat, looked Tatsuki in the eye, and spoke. "When I was nine, my mother died because of a Hollow attack."


By the time I finished, my throat was dry, and I'd already had three glasses of water. The storm had died down to spiteful bouts of rain and the lightning and thunder had moved on. Tatsuki had her lips parted slightly but over the course of my story she had grown numb to the shock.

I took a drink, draining the last of glass number four. Setting it down, I turned to Tatsuki. "That's all." The corners of my lips twitched up. "Don't tell me you were expecting more."

Tatsuki recovered quickly. "Oh, be quiet. I'm just…thinking. You're…what, twenty-something?"

"Twenty-five," I said, and then paused. "I think."

"You don't even know?" She calmed herself down. "Jeez, this is insane. I expected something bad, but this…man, not this. The future? A war? The end of everything?"

"Not everything," I said. "We survived. I came back."

She shot me a dry look. "You know what I meant. And you've just been living your life like this for weeks now."

"Yeah."

"How have you not gone insane?" She demanded, catching me off guard.

"I'm fine."

"The hell you are. Ichigo, everyone knows that once you settle into a routine, breaking it is borderline painful. You've been trying to break the routine of war for months now but you're trying to pretend like you have. No wonder you've been so off. I should've known it was worse than some weird spirit monster."

"I—"

"Don't talk, I'm trying to impart some knowledge on you." She paused for a second. "Listen, from what I understand, you've basically broken a bone."

What?

"War, fighting, never catching a break, that broke whatever 'normal' bone you had in your body. You tried to set it, but it hasn't healed and you're forcing the injury, which is only making it worse. It's common medical knowledge."

"I think you're forcing the metaphor."

"Shut up, you." She sighed. "But you get my point."

"Yeah, I do. It's valid, but—" I frowned, "I honestly don't know what to do about it."

"This," Tatsuki said simply. "Talking. Listening. You're already more relaxed than you were when you walked in here."

"You don't know that for sure," I pointed out. She nodded.

"You're right. But would it hurt to keep testing it?"

I thought about that. "No, probably not."

"Probably? Has your skull gotten thicker lately?"

"Have you gotten ruder lately?"

"Have you gotten dumber lately?"

We glared at each other and then looked away with grins.

"Dumbass," Tatsuki muttered under her breath. I could hear her, though I doubted that she intended for that. "You should've told me sooner."


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