Chapter Ninety Three:

He was running on empty. Body refusing to do anything he wanted it to. But Ichigo found he was just about able to dodge the majority of Izanshi's attacks. Swipes with claws, gnashing teeth, strikes and kicks that probably would have finished him. He barely had the energy to retaliate, but between fluctuations of the bow clasped in his hand he was able to fire singular sharp arrows.

Ichigo often missed his target, watching as ebony spears soared clean overhead, or bent around the looming Hollow. Sticking in trees and mud and generally being unhelpful. He had never really used long ranged weapons before. He was a swordsman, a close combat fighter. Suddenly being thrust into the polar opposite was jarring and, frankly, hard to deal with.

His body was still burning, still aching and threatening to give up on him at any second. He wasn't sure if it was adrenaline or stupidity that kept him moving. Or the fact he could faintly sense Kaida's reiatsu drawing closer to Urahara's store. To safety.

He would keep Izanshi here, in the park. Until he was sure the girl was safe.

A sharp jab to his gut sent him flying, he crumpled on the ground and moaned out in pain. He forced himself to sit up, aiming a shaking bow at the approaching Hollow again. He let loose and watched as it speared the creature in its throat. He let out a small laugh of relief and clawed himself back up onto his feet, summoning another arrow with the intention of striking the same place again.

It missed. He was a terrible bowman.

But he was better than he had been only ten minutes ago. He learned best through hardship, through violence, through battle. He'd always been the same. He spun on the spot, ducking the sweep of Izanshi's grasp as he darted backwards. He couldn't use Hirenkyaku like Ishida, he wasn't a miracle worker. But he could move just a little faster than he had when he'd first arrived at the park. Maybe he could hold the Hollow here until Kaida roused Yoruichi or Tessai... Chad had said Urahara was out of town after all...

Izanshi's taloned hand suddenly clasped around his bow arm, yanking him upwards sharply. Ichigo let out a surprised gasp, his eyes wide as he watched sharp spikes coming towards him. A scream of pain escaped as he felt the claws dig into his arm, tangling with his tendons and ripping them apart, his fingers falling limp as his bow fizzled out of existence.

He was screeching, howling with pain which only grew worse as the Hollow saw fit to twist his arm out of shape, shattering the bones.

"Did you think... A little parlour trick and an unlearned gift would be enough to stop me?" Izanshi's snarl was bitingly close to his face, "I murdered Yamamoto... The strongest Shinigami to have lived! You think a few arrows could bring me down?!"

Ichigo hit the ground, crying out as his body weight landed on his broken arm. He rolled as quickly as he could, dry sobs escaping him as he clutched the arm to his chest, pushing himself away from the Hollow as he sank to his knees.

He was out classed. Out matched. Hopelessly underpowered... He was a shadow of his former self. He had no chance of beating Izanshi. None at all.

Ichigo panted for breath, fear reaching him like cold fingers stretching inside his chest, cooling his insides and freezing his heart until it only released small jagged beats. He'd felt fear so many times since recovering his emotions. It was a good emotion. It was powerful. It was instinctual. But as he stole a glance at the unmoving bodies of his friends, of Hotaru, the fear got the best of him.

He wasn't scared for himself. He was scared for them. He didn't want them to die. Not after everything they had been through. He didn't want Kaida to be like him. He didn't want her to become a scared little girl who had lost her entire family to a Hollow attack. He didn't want to see another child... Lose everything... Because of Aizen.

Finding himself on his feet, little recollection of how he got there. He took jarring, uneasy steps towards the towering Arrancar. His breathing was rattled, shaken inside his chest as he stared up him.

"Ichi-ji!"

His blood froze at the sound of her voice, his head snapping around as he saw Kaida stood at the entrance to the park. He'd hoped momentarily that he might see Yoruichi or Tessai, or Urahara stood with her. But she was alone. Had she turned around to come back for him.

Swaying on the spot, Ichigo lifted his gaze back to Izanshi, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to find the words he needed, "I... Beg you... Take my life... Take Ishida's life... But spare... His children... I won't fight anymore... I won't struggle... Use me... For your ritual... Make your Ōken... But please... Spare his children..." It was the only thing he could do. It was all he could ask for. The only plea he could muster.

He watched as Izanshi seemed to consider it for a moment, the Hollow's expression contorting as he cast his eyes over Ichigo's fallen friends, seemingly amused by the proposition. Ichigo never expected the hand to fly at him with quite so much force as it did.

It struck him in the chest, harder than he had any of the previous times in their fight. He was thrown off his feet, tossed with ease through the air. He felt the impact before it registered. The sharp wrangle of metal. The stabbing feeling through his chest. The splash of blood down his front as he vomited.

He body was stuck on the mangled remains of the park climbing equipment, a single sharp prong of twisted metal stuck through his chest like an invader. He could hear Kaida screaming for him. He could hear the sound of her shoes squelching in the mud as she tried to run towards him. He could see Izanshi scooping her up under his arm like she weighed little more than a sack of flour, holding her tightly as he moved towards the rest of the Ishida family.

Ichigo stared blindly, tasting blood filling his mouth. His fingers felt numb. His skin felt cold. He was sure it was no longer a side effect of the rain and the storm. Though the flashes of lightening over head was terrifyingly bright, the thunder so close it was booming. It reminded him of Kenpachi slamming his fists together when he was angry.

His head snapped around as he heard Kaida's screams again, they were louder, more focused. Closer. She was being tied down by Izanshi. Thick coils of rope surrounding her, tying her to her unconscious brother and father.

The strawberry faltered, his voice lost for the moment. Everything was shifting around him, the world toppling in blurry unfocused streaks and lines of lightening and rain. He could feel his hair slick and stuck to his skin, his clothes although tattered clung to his flesh in strips white shirt dyed crimson.

Kaida was hurting. Her cries were pained. She was suffering. She was scared.

He pulled himself free, the scream of pain he released was nothing compared to the actual feeling. The slice of metal ripping into already ruined muscle, and tendon, and organ. He collapsed on his hands and knees, blood running freely from his lips, from his chest, from the denumerable wounds scattered across his body.

He wasn't stupid. The numbness of his fingers was spreading, the chill in the air was growing. He seen enough death to recognise it. He was dying. And there was nothing he could do about it. He was shaking, shivering, muscle jerks far beyond his control as he felt the fingers of his uninjured arm twitch. His forehead hit the mud, vision fluttering as his eyes rolled into his skull, darkness trying to gobble him up.

His name. He could hear it. Kaida was screaming for him. Her voice sounded raw, jagged, ripped and dry as if she'd been yelling for years rather than minutes. There was a deep seated desperation in her screeches, it pooled in his belly like an ache. An urgency.

What could he do against someone as strong as Izanshi? The Arrancar was clearly Espada material even if he had never been granted a number. His reiatsu was vast, putrid, gutless. It evoked fear. What could a mere Human do against that?

"Oh, Ichi-ji... You're so much more than a Human. You always have been." She rested her hands on his head tenderly, fingers stroking his hair, "There is still red in your spirit ribbon, I can see it. Don't give up."

Ichigo flinched as he remembered her words to him, Kaida's sweetness, her warmth and her tender urge to remind him that he wasn't nothing. He wasn't useless. He'd never just been a Human. But what good was that? He couldn't even access his new Quincy powers now that his arm was so badly mangled. He couldn't even feel the limb. Would his powers even respond? He was a dead man barely breathing in the soil, Quincy powers were for proud living creatures, not barely warm corpses.

"What can you do, Ichigo?" Chad asked.

"Whatever it takes." He breathed.

He shook as he considered Chad's concern. The man wasn't as kind as Kaida. He had been aware that his Human friend would be nothing more than a burden in battle. It burned Ichigo to know that it was true. He had let them down. Again. He should have left it to Soul Society.

"I'm going to put right what I've done... And I'm going to protect my precious friends at the same time!"

His own voice, his own memory. His words to Byakuya. They seemed like they had been spoken such a long time ago. A life time ago. Maybe that was true. The Winter War had happened to another person. The infiltration of Hueco Mundo had been a different Shinigami. The battle of Sôkyoku Hill had been a newborn Ichigo, finding his feet in the wake of recovering himself from the pits of darkness.

Fist clenched in the grass, dirt digging under his nails as he felt sickly wet sobs escape him, he stared at the tufts of dark green, tears running down his face as everything he had tried so hard to keep bottled up was set free. The loss of his powers, the loss of his life in Soul Society, his friends, his family, everything he had tried to protect. He'd sacrificed his powers to protect Karakura town, the memory of Kaida's smile and Hotaru's warmth had spurred him on to use the Final Getsuga Tenshou, believing it was the only way to save them. Yet they were dying too. Just like he was. Used in some sick ritual to create an Ōken.

He wailed, body racked by pain that exploded, shooting stars in front of his eyes as unconsciousness threatened to take him again. He slapped the ground. Punched it. What had been the point of losing his powers if they were going to die anyway?

"Life is only worth living when you have things and people of importance around you. We have a tough fight heading our way."

Byakuya. His words. Spoken just after their first kiss. He'd been right. It had been a tough fight, far worse than they'd imagined at first and far longer and crueller. With greater losses and much more sorrow. But it had been worth living through it, the people around them had been important. Worth fighting for. Worth dying for.

God he missed Byakuya. He missed him so badly that it hurt. It had always hurt. It had never stopped. Even when he'd shouted and screamed and yelled that Byakuya had betrayed him... Left him... Abandoned him... He'd still missed him. Still loved him. Makoto hadn't dulled that feeling, hadn't hidden it or helped him forget. It had made it worse.

Teeth clenched, Ichigo lifted his head slowly to glower at the sight before him. Izanshi was looming over the three Quincy's, Kaida was fighting against her bonds still screaming and fighting with everything she had within her. What sort of warrior was he... If he didn't do the same?

Somehow, he got to his feet. Left arm hanging limp at his side as he took jarring, lurching steps forwards. He sucked in grated breaths, hearing the slick rattle of death in his chest as he dared to get closer. Eyes fixed on the Hollow.

A hand clapped down on his shoulder without warning, fingers tightening in the wound Izanshi had left. It drew a scream from his lips as he was forced down onto his knees. Vision turning white as his entire body tried to squirm away from the pain. His eyes moved around slowly to try and see the cause of his pain, he expected a clone.

He didn't expect black hair and green eyes.

"M-Makoto?" His voice was barely more than a hoarse whisper.

"What do you think you are doing?" The man's eyes lifted from his face and instead settled on the Hollow, "Izanshi Arruruerie."

'Arruruerie... That was... Aaroniero's...' Ichigo's eyes widened in confusion, which was only amplified when he realised Makoto was looking at and talking to a Hollow... Able to see him... He knew his name.

"You weren't supposed to be here yet." Izanshi's voice was snappy, harsh, annoyed.

"And you were not meant to kill Kurosaki, but I see that you have all of your brother's greed and none of his wit."

"My greed?! You only wanted him alive so you could kill him yourself!" The shape changing Hollow barked.

"WHAT IS GOING ON?!" Ichigo yelled, crumpling from the effort as he was reduced to rattling coughs that brought tears to his eyes.

"Tch," Makoto released his hold on his shoulder, slowly striding past him and towards Izanshi, jade eyes focused on the redheaded Arrancar for a long moment, "Izanshi Arruruerie... I'm sure you recognise the name. As annoying as he is, his talents are far superior to Aaroniero's. The Noveno was only capable of changing his own form, Izanshi... Can change the forms of others as well."

The strawberry looked up slowly, eyes widen as he looked at the two of them. He couldn't... He couldn't believe what he was seeing. It wasn't possible. Makoto couldn't be... He couldn't see Hollows... Surely... How did he know about Aaroniero... How did he know his Espada rank?! He was shaking, he wasn't sure if it was from the cold or the pain or the fear anymore.

"It is truly a shame you lost your Shinigami powers." Makoto continued, eyes narrowing on Ichigo's face, "I don't often enjoy spending time with trash, but in your case I would have made an exception if it meant having a rematch."

Ichigo's chest tightened suddenly, the crippling pain of anxiety crushing him as his mouth opened. A silent 'no' breaking free as he rocked back onto his haunches. He'd only ever heard one person call him trash... Only one person had ever called him that... Only one... Only...

Izanshi's hand came to rest on Makoto's shoulder, a faint fizzle of pale energy passing between the two men. And then, Makoto's skin began to bubble, his body began to change and shift and shrink. Ichigo retched, his hand coming up to cover his mouth.

The only thing that stayed the same... Was the black hair. And the green eyes.

"No... No, no, no!" He shouted out, half doubling over as he clasped a hand against his chest, trying to hold the blood in. Trying to cling on for even a second longer.

It couldn't be true. It couldn't be...

He stood with his hands behind his back, head tilted to one side as a not so pleasant smirk tickled at his black and white lips. His skin was as pale as it had ever been, the emerald tear markings on his face were just as Ichigo remembered them. The hate and loathing in his eyes... Were just as he remembered. Ulquiorra... Cifer...

"If you are wondering how, or when, or why..." Ulquiorra looked over at him dispassionately before he lifted a hand and pointed at Orihime, "Look no further than your own friend. She took pity on me. Took pity on the wretch your Hollow form dragged into the cells. She used her powers to restore my mask... To restore me. Izanshi created a clone of my broken form, allowing me to remain hidden. Allowing me to remain a secret."

Ichigo couldn't believe it. Orihime wouldn't... She'd never said... She'd never even hinted...

"I knew you would betray Aizen-sama from the very beginning. It was the very reason... I tried to tear you away from him!" Ulquiorra's voice rang with poison, "I tried to slay you here in Karakura town, I tried to crush you in Rukongai, and I tried to behead you in Las Noches. But still, he remained infatuated."

The former Cuatro didn't seem entirely like his former self, he seemed more emotive, more passionate. Less inclined to hide his feelings. The venom in his voice was palpable. Ichigo could feel it in the air.

"Izanshi contacted me when Aizen-sama fell at your hand, told me that you had lost your powers and were trapped in the World of the Living." Green eyes narrowed on his face, "It wasn't hard to find you, it wasn't hard to appeal to your ego. Even as Human trash your need for attention makes you weak."

Ichigo gasped out, unable to quite catch his breath. Unable to quite believe. Unable to shake the cold feeling settling in the pit of his stomach, "Y-You... You were... Makoto... All... All along..."

"A little sob story, a little flirting and you were practically hooked. I don't know who I feel more sorry for... You... Or Byakuya Kuchiki." Ulquiorra's expression turned cruel, "If you thought your little display in your Inner World was enough to rid me from your life... You are even more naïve than I ever thought possible of trash like you."

A sob escaped him, and then another. He couldn't believe his ears, or his eyes. He had considered having sex with this man... With Makoto... Or rather... He felt sick to his stomach that the thought had ever crossed his mind, even in those moments of fury, even when he'd been at his lowest. It was unimaginable. His guilt immeasurable.

He watched as Ulquiorra's attention shifted to the Arrancar at his side, "Finish the ritual. Once we complete the Ōken we can go to Soul Society. Your clones will make the invasion of Seireitei as easy as breathing, and when Aizen-sama is free... We will be rewarded for our loyalty."

He felt frozen. Terror clawing at his chest. He could feel Ulquiorra's reiatsu, it washed over him like a stagnant and clinging stench that he couldn't be free of. He'd believed himself free... Believed he had overcome the horrors... The trauma. When he had defeated the lingering reiatsu of Ulquiorra's entity within his Inner World everything had seemed brighter. His scars had felt easier to live with, his nightmares had seemed less real. But all along... He'd simply traded the monster in his head for the monster beneath his bed.

And it was because of Orihime.

Ichigo's eyes moved to the unconscious woman on the floor. She stilled looked so weak, so pale... She looked so peaceful and innocent. Had she any idea what she'd done? Why had she never said? Was it shame or... Embarrassment?

This was his fault. It was entirely his fault. If he'd ordered Shiro to kill Ulquiorra... If he'd ordered him to finish the job... Why had he left him alive?! Why had it never even occurred to him that his mask could be restored by one of the most powerful healing abilities he'd ever seen?! His friends were going to die, because of him!

He half tore the final Seele Schneider from his belt and forced himself to stand as the blue blade illuminated at his side. He couldn't do anything, not against the power of Izanshi, not against the power of Ulquiorra... Certainly not against both of them together.

But he would not die... Without trying to protect the people he loved... At least one more time.

It hurt. It literally felt like his insides were clawing to get out as he sprinted forwards. He held the blue energy blade above his head as he released a hoarse battle cry, allowing his pain and his fear and his anger to flow through him. He wouldn't die on his knees. He wouldn't die like a coward.

"KUROSAKI!" Ishida's voice broke through the barrier, rough and barely conscious, dark blue eyes were staring at him, "Get out of here!"

He watched as both Arrancar turned towards him again, both of them smirking. He could hear Izanshi's gnash of teeth, the lash of a tongue against his lips. The snarl of hunger. He felt one of the shape shifting Hollow's hands wrapping around his middle, suddenly vastly larger than it had been before as the fingers crushed him like an insect. Of course, he probably had consumed some of Yammy's reiatsu too... That gargantuan beast.

It tore a scream from his lips, but only propelled him onwards as he stabbed down with the Quincy blade, sliding the bright blue between tendons and bones, tearing viscously and with stunted vigour as his face was sprayed with blood that wasn't his own. He severed the hand, Izanshi's crows of pain were at least a little satisfying.

Ichigo hit the ground between the Arrancar and the Ishida family, rolling up onto his knees with a rasp and a whimper. His shoulders were slack, his vision dimming.

"You won't touch them... While there's... Breath... Still in my body..." The strawberry growled.

"That can soon... Be remedied." Izanshi's snarl was almost feral, angry and gruff as his remaining hand snatched out towards Ichigo.

"Kurosaki!"

"Ichi-ji!"

He could hear Ishida and Kaida, but he couldn't respond. Couldn't react. He couldn't even lift a finger anymore, his entire body felt constricted, unresponsive. He wanted to apologise to Ishida... He wanted to say he was so sorry for doubting him, for turning on him... The Quincy had sensed what he couldn't. He'd sensed the truth. He wished he'd listened. All he could muster was a single scowl. He'd die like he'd lived, glaring at everyone and anything.

'Is that it? Is there nothing I can do anymore? Let me live for a while longer. I want to become strong. I want to become strong and protect people from harm!' His thoughts shone like a beacon in the back of his skull, forcing his scowl to deepen, the resilience to grow, the reluctance to surrender, 'Those who can't fight for themselves... People who've been beaten down into the dirt... I want to protect them all! I want to beat him! Otherwise... I won't be able to face my mother and sisters!'

"You won't... Touch them..." He growled, "I won't... Let you hurt... Them anymore..."

Impact came, but not from where he expected it to. He watched as Izanshi seemed to freeze, recoil and scuttle back as if scorned. Blinking in confusion, Ichigo allowed his head to drop forwards, staring a the sleek glowing katana currently poking through his shirt.

Breath stuttering, Ichigo felt his shivering subside with the slow and gentle warmth which seemed to spread from the bladed epicentre. Head rolling, he stared up at Izanshi, and Ulquiorra who was not far behind. Izanshi seemed locked in a step backwards, crimson eyes wide. Ulquiorra's expression had turned to one of seething rage.

Curious, confused, Ichigo swivelled just enough to peer over his shoulder, squinting through the rain and the pain as he saw a pair of petite hands gripping the hilt of the sword.

He saw fingerless tekkō gloves, they were long, stretching up above the elbow which disappeared beneath the black fabric of a shihakusho. A Fukutaichou badge was strapped midway up the biceps. A shorter crop of black hair than he remembered still framed stunning purple eyes.

"R-Rukia..." He breathed.

She smiled. It was a flashback, it evoked such a burning heat in his belly that he let out a small shaken sob. He flinched as she pushed the sword an inch deeper, her hands twisting on the hilt. His eyes widened as he watched an almost blinding light rear its head from the blade with all the force of an atomic bomb.

Air gushed around him. Warm, comforting, he felt a surge from within himself. A wave of energy, revitalising, swelling. He watched as the sword buried in his chest dispersed, the echo of blue seeping into his skin, healing his wounds, dying his clothes black as the familiar and homely feeling of a shihakusho enveloped his body. Tossing his head back as he felt his reiatsu growing, swirling around him like a storm. The soft fluttering of waist long orange hair caught his attention, drawing a gasp from his lips.

Gaze shooting downwards as he felt a white hot pain on his arms, he watched with glee as jet whorls spread like a wild fire up and down the limbs, branding the side of his neck. He could almost smell the Hollow as the memory of the Gothic Zero etched itself into his throat.

"Ichigo."

"Aibou."

He could have cried again for the familiar voices filling his head. His eyes slipping shut as he saw them both. Zangetsu and Shiro. They looked a little different, while both in separate bodies again, Zangetsu's hair was shorter while Shiro's was longer. The grim Zanpakutō spirit's long coat seemed more form fitting, he seemed more muscled than before and less twiggy. While Shiro now seemed even more a mimic of him than before, they bore the same Clan markings, the same Espada brand on their neck. The Hollow side of him even sported the same scar on his throat.

He could feel his Inner World building up around them. Towering white buildings stretching towards the heavens. Skyscrapers, vast and taller than before. White and blue and black. Very him. Very them.

"We have much to discuss, Ichigo. But for now you must fight. End this for your own pride."

"And don't be too shocked when ya open yer eyes! Things are gonna be a... Little different now!"

"I've missed you both so much." The strawberry couldn't help but smile.

Opening his eyes slowly, Ichigo blinked as he found himself sporting two swords instead of one. His breath caught in his throat at the sight. They were both pure black, one matched the size of his previous Zangetsu and was clasped in his right hand, there was a thin hollowed-out portion running along the back edge of the blade from the base to the middle. The second sword, gripped in his left hand was relatively small, no longer than the length of his own arm, it was shaped more like a knife with an enclosed hilt acting as a hand guard.

His shihakusho looked similar to how he remembered, the sleeves were ripped away to reveal the full extent of his tattoos. He noted the now thicker red band running horizontally across his chest, although it would no longer serve as a resting place for his Zanpakutō. He would have to find a new way to store them, in time.

Ichigo felt strong again. He felt complete. Like he had gained a little something he'd never realised he was missing. Seeing Masaki's Quincy Cross silently embedded in the hilt of his larger sword told him what that was. He'd finally become everything he had always meant to be. Human. Shinigami. Quincy. Hollow.

Limitless potential. Someone had mentioned that in the past, it was his biggest asset, his biggest ability. To find unending, constant pools of energy which could make him stronger. And now he understood why. He was a hybrid. Unique. One of a kind. Even Aizen couldn't have planned for that.

"Ridiculous." Ulquiorra snarled, muscles tense beneath the fabric of his clothing.

"You think making him look like a Shinigami means his powers are back? Don't be stupid girl." Izanshi snorted, foul red eyes fixed on Rukia.

Ichigo felt himself shift, moving between Izanshi's murderous glare and Rukia's small form. It felt instinctive, to protect her.

"There's no way. Ridiculous. The only reason he became a Shinigami the first time around was because he had the reiatsu lingering within him when Aizen-sama brought the Hōgyoku before him and took him to Soul Society. But he has none of that now. He barely has any Quincy reiatsu to speak of. " Ulquiorra continued, fingers twitching restlessly at his sides, "There's no way Kurosaki's Shinigami powers can recover from what they were with your reiatsu alone being poured into him!"

"You idiots! It ain't just Rukia!" A familiar voice yelled from above.