Chapter 21: The Only Hope For Me Is You

'(Remember me, remember me)

Where, where will you stand
When all the lights go out across these city streets?
Where were you when all of the embers fell?
I still remember them.

Can I be the only hope for you?
Because you're the only hope for me.'

The first few thumps barely reached Isshin. The sounds registered somewhere in the back of his mind, muffled as though they were travelling through dense murky waters. It was the second barrage of knocks that awoke him, sharp and rapid and insistent, a sound that never meant good news at any time of the day, never mind in the depths of the night. He was out of his bed and across the room in an instant, his heart pounding instinctively in his chest before his mind had even fully registered the implications of the situation. He pulled a threadbare dressing gown around his frame, once the body of a warrior it was now gaunt and pale, the raccoon rings beneath his eyes charting months of restless nights.

He had already been awoken once that night, torn from his sleep by a dream that had fled instantly upon awakening. But he didn't need to remember it to know what it was about, for the past two months he had dreamed of nothing else. When his nightmare roused him he did what he always did, he walked the house through, checking it over. Checking on his daughters in their sleep as they tossed and turned in their own frightful dream worlds, feeling more than ever the knife in his gut as he saw Yuzu's face stained with silent tears, her tiny fingers interlaced between Karin's, her arm curled tightly around that lion doll that used to sit upon Ichigo's dresser. They nearly always ended up sharing a bed now, for comfort and the illusion of safety. He understood how they felt; his own bed had never felt colder.

But that night he then did something out of the ordinary. He entered the one room that he never entered; always leaving it undisturbed when he checked the house for hidden ghosts and monsters under the bed, for he knew there was nothing but monsters there now.

He entered Ichigo's room. The atmosphere there was somehow different from the rest of the house, the air was stale and dry, the colours faded like an old photograph, like a distant memory. Time had not moved on in this place, and Isshin knew that it never would. His bed was still made, his clothes still hung undisturbed in the closet, his alarm clock and books and one dried up water glass still sitting upon his bedside table, the same posters still hung upon the walls. He thought that he could make out a messy imprint still upon the pillow, the ghost of a body lying upon the bed sheets. But he knew in his heart that there was nothing there but shadows. The room had lain empty for so many months, since Ichigo had first left the human world for the realm of the hollows, and it still remained unchanged save for the liberation of the lion doll and a thick layer of dust that had settled upon the place like a burial shroud, choking the last remnants of life from the room.

For a long time he stood there by the bed, gazing out of the window. He could feel something else, something out there, humming just below the surface of the visible world.

'Probably just a hollow.' He thought, resisting the urge to feel it out, to seek it out. The old urges had been hard to fight recently, every spark of foreign reiatsu like an itch beginning for Isshin to scratch it. But he did not. Ever since his son had died Isshin had been on the defence, keeping what was left of his power contained tightly within himself. He did not seek out the presences of others and in turn he fiercely shielded his own from the outside world. He had lost his wife and his son to that world; he would not lose his daughters too.

The feeling disappeared all of a sudden, the hollow vanquished. With it came a strange sense of sadness, somehow deepening his sense of loss. Like a connection severing within him. And as he stared expressionlessly out of the window it started to rain, soft drizzle falling like a fresh sheet, covering and soaking everything in the world outside the window. Suddenly he felt dizzy but could not bring himself to sit down upon the bed, for fear of disturbing the ghosts whether they lurked there or not.

With the urge gone he felt his weariness return and had slunk back to his bed, to restless sleep and fitful dreams. It didn't feel like he had been there long, but somehow he had managed to fall into a deep sleep, like sinking to the bottom of a black abyss from which the frantic rapping on the door had rudely dragged him back up from. Shaking off the last of the inky dregs of sleep he felt instantly wide awake, half from fear and half old warrior's instinct.

He reached the door before the visitor had time to unleash another barrage of knocks. His fingers shook as he worked at the locks, drawing back the bolt and turning the key in the lock. He paused for a moment with his hand on the doorknob, suddenly struck by a terrible feeling of dread. He wasn't sure if he really wanted to open his door, to face whatever truth it was on the other side that felt it necessary to bring him news in the middle of a pouring night. Anticipating another frantic series of knocks and fearing that the noise would wake the girls if it had not already, he threw the door open.

Standing there was the last man he had expected to see, indeed a man that he had half hoped never to see again.

Urahara Kisuke stood in the soft rain, completely soaked through by it. His hat was long gone, his dank hair plastered to his face and neck. His clothes had turned a darker shade of green and clung to his lean frame, the sleeves hanging heavy with water. He must have been freezing, and indeed he was shaking terribly, his hands gripping either side of the doorframe to steady himself as he panted breathlessly.

'I told you to stay away from us.' Isshin muttered. He kept his voice low so as not to disturb the girls, but the undercurrent of anger was evident in his tone.

'I know.' Urahara breathed heavily as he spoke, trying to catch his breath after his frantic race to the Kurosaki's door. 'Isshin,' (my friend) 'I know. But this is important.'

'I don't want to hear it!' He hissed through his teeth. 'Leave us alone.' He made to shut the door, hoping that he could shut out reality along with the man.

'It's Ichigo!' Those words stopped Isshin's heart for a moment and he paused, the door halfway shut, his hand gripping the doorknob tighter than before, his knuckles white. Urahara's words nearly caught in his throat, to speak them out loud would be to admit the truth that he was scared to allow himself to believe in, and to give Isshin hope just to see it taken away again would be cruel beyond measure. He had been weighing the decision over and over in his mind as he had made his way here through the pouring rain, but no matter what the outcome was Isshin deserved to know. He had to know. So when he spoke his voice was steady, his words were clear.

'He's not dead Isshin.'

'What are you saying to me?' He spat, the quiet anger in Isshin's voice had turned to affronted rage now as he faced down his old friend. 'Haven't you done enough already, haven't you hurt my family enough?' The door was thrown wide open and Isshin stepped out into the rain. Now he was close enough to see Urahara's face clearly. The light from the hallway illuminated the circles under his eyes, darker than they had ever been. His face so pale it was practically white, his cheeks tinged pink with exertion standing out startlingly against all that pallor. Yet his eyes were sparkling anew, the way they did when he was working on some fresh idea or invention. Isshin recognised that spark and right now he hated it. Hated seeing such life in those eyes as he spoke such cruel words.

'I'm sorry, I wish I could just leave you alone, but something happened tonight. Something you need to know.' Urahara held his gaze, every word that he spoke laced with a quiet determination. 'I know that nothing I could ever do can repay the hurt I have caused you but right now I need you to trust me.' He paused at the expression that crossed his old friend's face, an expression that said he was far from even beginning to have faith in him again. He pleaded with him. 'At least hear me out.'

Isshin looked over his old friend suspiciously, trying to read the emotions flitting across his face. He wrestled with his own, trying to decide what to do, whether or not to dare to trust the man who had already betrayed him so deeply. Curiosity won him over; there was something in Urahara's eyes that he could not dismiss, just as he could not ignore the flame that had sparked a fire back into life in his heart at the sound of those words. The dream that he had every night suddenly made flesh.

'He's not dead.'

The rain was still falling down upon Urahara, but he stood his ground and Isshin knew that he would not leave until he had said what he had come there to say. But this was not the place for such a conversation, in the freezing rain which fell heavily upon the two men standing at the threshold.

'You'd better come inside.' He muttered as he relaxed his shoulders, letting down his defensive stance. Urahara smiled wearily, aware that this truce was temporary and made out of desperation rather than forgiveness, but he took it, he deserved no better. Things would probably get worse once Isshin heard the truth, but he could no longer lie to him even out of a façade of providing protection. Isshin deserved better than that, and ignoring the truth of the situation would not make it any less true, would not change the fact of what his son had become. And he would accept the blame, he would bear the burden of the creature's sin because no matter what he still loved him. He always would, beast or no.

Isshin stood back, pushing the door open and gesturing for Urahara to enter, allowing him in, providing temporary sanctuary from the cold and the rain and the hurt on one condition.

'Tell me everything.'

'… So that's what happened?'

The King of Las Noches sat upon his cold throne, elbows resting on the marble armrests as he leant back, his fingers interlaced in front of his face, barely touching his lips. His curled lock of chestnut hair rested upon his forehead, dipping down between his eyes to cut his face in two like a half face masquerade mask. Alejo and Grimmjow stood before him, the younger occasionally shifting hesitantly upon his feet. They had just finished debriefing their Lord on what had happened on their trip to the human world and his reaction, or lack of reaction, had surprised them both. He seemed almost pleased to hear that they had encountered the shinigami, certainly he showed no sign of disappointment or anger at the news that they had ended up gathering very little useable data.

Aizen's reaction had served to reaffirm Grimmjow's feeling that there was something not quite right going on with his master. It was all centred around Alejo, somehow it was all to do with him. He had assumed that Aizen's plans for the vizard had succeeded and ended with the transformation of his soul, but in true Aizen fashion there was evidently more to his plans for Alejo than met the eye. Typical shinigami bastard. Aizen caught his gaze and smiled that cruel infuriating smile that told him that he knew everything that Grimmjow had been thinking. He always knew.

'Very well.' His face returned to its usual impassive mask. 'There is still much to be done before the end, but you may leave.' That smile again, but this time it was fixed upon Alejo. 'Rest now.' He waved his hand in dismissal, his interest in them already lost. They bowed their heads slightly in acknowledgement.

'Thank you Aizen-sama.' Alejo murmured. Grimmjow declined to speak, simply turning on his heel and stalking from the room. Alejo followed suit, knowing that while Aizen may be through with them the two arrancar were nowhere near through with each other. The young creature was buzzing with questions and confusions, and though he dared not ask Aizen for the answers he would damn well squeeze as much information as he could from Grimmjow. He could tell that his partner knew something about those shinigami. He could see it written all over his face, feel it in his reiatsu; he was hiding something from him and Alejo would not rest until he had found out what it was.

Pale eyes watched the exchange intently from one of the many dark corners of the room. The figure emerged as the two arrancar left the room, scurrying away to deal with their own demons. Gin approached the throne, the beginnings of understanding creeping across his face.

'You knew this would happen.' He murmured softly into the darkness. His eyes fixed upon Aizen, scanning for a reaction. 'You planned it.'

'But of course.' He replied silkily from his perch upon the throne, his head cocked slightly to regard Gin as he approached.

'Why?' Gin closed his eyes to slits in some useless form of self-defence, as though if Aizen could not see his eyes he could not read the thoughts and emotions that had him so pre-occupied as of late.

'Why?' Aizen sounded amused, almost mocking as he addressed his lieutenant. 'Isn't it obvious?' Gin paused as he approached the throne, cocking his own head curiously at Aizen like a bird trying to decide whether it was safe to approach a potential predator.

'You sent him to taunt Urahara.' He spoke as though it was an accusation, one which he knew his Lord would not try to deny.

'Perhaps.' A cold smile played upon Aizen's lips as he motioned for Gin to come closer. Hesitantly, he complied.

'You're just playing with him, seeing how much pain you can inflict on him before the end, seeing how far you can push him...' They were dangerously close now, Gin's eyes slipping open despite himself to meet the gaze of hellish brown irises. 'Why?'

'It amuses me.' Aizen smiled that cruel smirk as he reached out to catch a hold of Gin's pale wrist. 'I will defeat Kisuke Urahara, but first I will have him on his knees before me for no other reason that it will please me. I will utterly break him, just like I broke his precious Ichigo…' A sharp tug on his wrist and Gin found himself straddling Aizen's lap. Coupled with the opening of his eyes he suddenly felt dangerously vulnerable. The dark Lord took no notice as he continued to speak, 'But unlike Ichigo I will then have no further use for him, and he will die knowing that I took everything from him, that I burned everything he loved.' That smirk grew wider as he brought his face closer to Gin's, close enough that the pale man could feel the warmth of breath against his cheeks. 'He will see the fall of Soul Society, he will witness the deaths of the shinigami and in the end he will die by the hand of the person he loves most. Or at least, what remains of that person.'

'You're going to have Alejo kill him.' Gin's voice came out in something close to a whisper, his breath suddenly stolen from him by the demon whose lap he sat upon. The grip upon his wrist tightened.

'A most fitting end for him indeed.' Aizen laughed softly as he brought his free hand up to brush back strands of white hair from Gin's forehead.

'Was it always about this?' He murmured softly, his eyes slipping shut again.

'It was about acquiring a weapon, both in the physical strength of Alejo and the psychological blow his death and resurrection dealt to the shinigami.' Fingers moved from brushing hair back from his forehead round behind his head, fingertips barely touching the outside shell of his ear, the sensation making him shiver. 'Destroying Kisuke is merely an amusing by-product resulting from the action.'

'You're unusually talkative tonight.' Gin teased, unsure why he had just been made privy to this information.

'You were the one complaining that I kept too much from you.' Aizen retorted and Gin felt those fingers press gently at the base of his skull, reminding him who was in charge here.

'I meant no disrespect.' He murmured softly, eager to keep on the ex-captain's good side.

'And surely there is no reason why I should not reveal at least some of my plans to you, my most loyal subordinate.' His teasing tone concealed a thinly veiled threat that made Gin's blood run cold. He forced a smile, trying to ignore the lump that had suddenly appeared to clog his throat. He shuddered as those fingers dug in deeper, nails running through his hair. He was painfully aware that his time may be growing short, but somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that Aizen knew all along. The Lord of Las Noches simply did not see him as a threat and so any plottings against him that Gin may have had were inconsequential. Gin couldn't touch him, and they both knew it. He stifled a moan as he felt cold lips brush against his skin, and gave Aizen what he wanted.

'Thank you, Aizen-sama.'

Submission.

Grimmjow had left before Alejo had even reached the door of the throne room, flash-stepping away as fast as he could. Alejo grit his teeth as he followed suit, determined not to let his partner get away. No matter how fast Grimmjow ran he would never be able to outrun Alejo and they both knew it. The white hallways zipped by as they ran, each identical to the last and creating a dizzying illusion of inaction.

It didn't take long for him to catch up to Grimmjow, grabbing him by the shoulder and pushing him against the cold wall.

'What the hell do you think you're doing?' The sexta espada snarled, his upper lip curling back to reveal fierce pointed teeth, glinting whiter than the marble walls.

'I could ask you the same question.' Alejo growled softly. He pressed his forearm against the panther's throat, pinning him to the wall and threatening to cut off his air supply. Grimmjow's cerulean eyes narrowed in quiet anger, his jaw clenching as he brought his hands up in an attempt to pry Alejo's arm from him, but his limb was like steel and he gave no inch despite the espada's strength.

'What are you talking about?' Grimmjow was a bad liar. He had never had any reason to be untruthful, never cared to spare another's feelings nor attempt to hide the truth of any matter. He was never scared and he never cared for the repercussions of his actions. The furthest he came to lying was the half-hearted attempt he made to cover up his disdain for Aizen and his rule, but that was intentionally transparent at the best of times. But here he was, pinned up against the wall by an arrogant, powerful young thing that used to be his greatest enemy and was now a comrade, but no less a rival. If Alejo pressed him he was unsure how little he would give away under that piercing hollow gaze.

'What the hell was all that about?' He hissed low as he demanded answers from the sexta. 'Why didn't they attack us? Who was that blonde shinigami?... Why did he keep calling me by that name!?'

'I don't-' As Grimmjow tried to respond Alejo pressed his forearm into his throat to the point where discomfort turned to pain, effectively cutting him off.

'Bullshit. You know something, I can feel it!' Alejo spat, his earlier composure in the throne room was gone, now he was again feeling the confusing mix of emotions that had fallen upon him atop the hill and it made him want to claw at his skin in desperation, anything to get rid of them.

'You look like one of them.' The panther hissed through clenched teeth.

'What!?' He spat, confusion and anger evident in his tone. He loosed his grip on Grimmjow's throat, allowing him breath to speak.

'There used to be a powerful shinigami.' Grimmjow growled. 'He was stupid, but powerful. He had the potential to challenge Aizen, he was the only one who could have stood against him.' Alejo scowled.

'What happened to him?' His anger was quickly dissipating, replaced with the childlike curiosity that so often plagued him.

'He died.' Grimmjow saw something unreadable pass across Alejo's face and that anger quickly return.

'Then why do they think I am him?' He hissed as he pressed him harder against the wall.

'His hair.' Grimmjow choked out the best explanation he could give the boy. 'It was bright orange, just like yours. Your face is covered by the mask and that birthmark; it wouldn't be a stretch for them to mistake you for him.'

'But that blonde one, he was so strange.' And he made me feel so strange… Alejo's expression softened as an unspoken thought crossed his mind, and he loosened his stranglehold on Grimmjow.

'He was the shinigami's… teacher.' Grimmjow paused, unsure of quite how to describe the blonde shinigami. 'He blames himself for his death, and the guilt drove him mad.' Alejo took a step back, releasing Grimmjow from his grasp.

'How do you know all this?' Alejo regarded him curiously, wondering how it was that an espada could have such detailed knowledge of these things. The panther took a deep breath and fixed Alejo with his steely gaze as he spoke.

'Because I was there when he died.'

'How did he die?' That sad curiosity was back in Alejo's eyes when he spoke. His changeable nature still amazed Grimmjow, it was unnerving how easily he could change from bloodthirsty to innocent. He'd evidently been spending too much time with that damned Lilynette.

'How do you think dumbass?' He murmured, still getting his breath back. 'Aizen killed him.' Alejo's brow again furrowed in confusion,

'But I thought you said-'

'I said he could have stood against him.' Grimmjow cut him off. 'He tried and he failed. By the end Aizen had totally destroyed him, body and soul.'

'Why?' He pushed for more information, his interest peaked.

'Because he felt love!' Grimmjow snapped, his patience wearing thin. Pain exploded behind Alejo's eyes as Grimmjow's fist connected swiftly with his face. A blow that he'd never even seen coming sent him reeling backwards, snapping his head to the side, breaking the gaze.

'He sacrificed himself to Aizen in order to protect his comrades. And in doing so he doomed them. That is why they will fail; we do not possess such weak emotion. We are stronger than them. Now don't you ever speak to me like that again cub, or I'll make you regret it.' He growled as he turned on his heel, eager to leave this situation behind.

'Grimm?' The tone of Alejo's voice made him stop in his tracks, turning back momentarily. Alejo turned his face upwards, one hand touched to his red cheek and in his eyes Grimmjow saw a fluttering of innocent fear. 'I'm not a shinigami, am I?'

'Don't be stupid.' He growled aggressively. 'Shinigami can't become arrancar. When they die they don't come back.' But you weren't just a shinigami, were you? He mentally cursed himself for that thought, worried that Alejo would somehow be able to read what he was thinking. But he was still just a child, and he trusted him with that same childish innocence that he'd had ever since he was born.

'Okay.' His eyes cleared. He nodded softly, rubbing his cheek with the pads of his fingertips, the pain and redness already leaving his skin.

'Tch.' Grimmjow walked back to him, unsure quite how to react to all this. 'C'mon idiot, let's go rest.' He smiled wolfishly as he grasped him by the wrist.'Aizen's orders.'

In a bedroom in a shop in the human world the candles were burning low, sending steam floating gently up in the cold air. A pale figure sat upon the bed, dressed in nothing but a ratty hakama. His pale torso seemed emaciated in the light of the candles, his arms lacked the muscle definition that they once had, now thinner than they had been since he was a lanky adolescent an age ago. His hair was still damp from the rain, and it hung heavy around his thin face and clung to his pale neck.

The blonde let his eyes slip shut as he massaged his temples. The lack of sleep was weighing heavy on his mind and body, and the events of the previous night had done little to ease his mind. Dawn was breaking outside of the window but the first rays of sunlight did not reach him through his reverie.

Isshin had taken the news better than he had expected, better than he himself had taken it. He supposed it was more out of fear of disturbing the girls that he had not shouted or swore or thrown objects at his head. To say that he had remained stoic throughout their exchange would be an exaggeration, he had never seen Isshin go so pale or look so lifeless as he had done when he had heard the news. But when all was said and done, when circumstantial evidence was discussed and half-baked plans were made, he saw that spark of life back in his old friend's eyes, a spark that been extinguished as he stood by the grave of his son. And they parted, not on good terms, but on ones partially better than they had left each other at their last encounter. Isshin was still a long way from forgiveness, and Urahara was a long way from feeling he had earned any.

As he held his head in his hands his thoughts turned to older memories, revisiting a scene that he had not dared think on for the longest time.

'I can't go back to how I was.' Ichigo broke the silence again as he shifted slightly in Urahara's arms. 'There's no way back. So it's no use dwelling upon the past. I have to move forward, just like I've always done, right?' He didn't look towards Urahara for an answer, and the blonde remained silent, letting him get his thoughts in order, only responding by means of hugging him tighter to his chest. After a moment Ichigo continued, 'As long as I still have them, the people I was fighting for, my family, my friends, and you… I'll be alright. As long as I can be here with everyone, I can move forward with them.'

He would never forget those words, the determination in his resolution. That promise had come from a damaged mind, a youth who had been through the worst kinds of hell and emerged intact. He had no right to sit here wallowing in pity any longer, not now that there was something he could do, now that there was the slightest bit of hope that he could somehow redeem himself for breaking his promise.

He kept making that promise to him and he kept breaking it. Ichigo had made the decision to move forward, and now he would do the same, but he would not do it alone. He would move forward together with Ichigo, or die trying.

A/N: Just over a week since my last update, don't say I'm not good to you guys (occasionally). Hope everyone's having a good new year so far.

I think I liked this chapter better than the previous few, what do you guys think? Big things are about to happen as we get closer towards the finale, and I'm going to try to speed up the updates, but I'm back at Uni soon so no promises.

Speaking of which, looking back over Part 2 reviews I've realised that you guys have differing opinions on the whole GrimmIchi business, so here's your chance to have your say! I wrote in GrimmIchi for a number of reasons, mainly to fill the smut gap that dominates the second half of this story, but also to further contrast Ichigo/Alejo, illustrating a breaking away from emotion and the emptiness that is left behind. But smut for smut's sake isn't always a good thing in stories like these, so I'm going to have a vote on whether or not to have more GrimmIchi lemon in the next chapter. You can vote when you review, just leave a comment voting 'yay' or 'nay'.

As always, thanks for reading,
K x