Zangetsu swung his blade with a frustrated roar, releasing yet another silent Getsuga Tenshō that destroyed a street full of houses. It wasn't goddamn fair! Out of all the people in existence, he was stuck with some stubborn, hero-complex ailing, moral compass that wouldn't even steal a pen from their friend!
Turning on his heel Zangetsu kicked the store next to him, channelling a Bala through his foot that levelled two more buildings. Why couldn't he have a wielder that didn't mind harming another person? Or at the very least, didn't mind harming someone who attempted to harm him?! There was nothing wrong with wanting some good-old revenge or retribution, was there? An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth; you know the proverb. It was only human to want that, wasn't it?!
Zangetsu spotted a piece of rubble and kicked it, it went straight through two outer walls, causing another house to collapse. But nooooo~ his wielder didn't agree. Was too concerned about what others would think of him, didn't want to indulge himself with his darker desires cause he was afraid he would like it.
"Why don't ya use a lil' Shunpo and knock 'em all out from behind?" Zangetsu had suggested. "Let them break their nose on tha pavement... or just their necks, that would make 'em stop bothering ya fer awhile".
"Kami, I'm not gonna snap their necks!" Ichigo had said as he evaded a swing and kicked another in the hip.
"Why not? They seem quite eager ta kill ya", Zangetsu had pointed out, referring to the knives some of the thugs carried.
"I. Am. Not. Killing. Them!" Ichigo yelled. "Why is murder always the answer with you?!"
"Geez, King. I was joking 'bout their necks, don't get yer panties in a twist".
"You make the same joke every fucking time and guess what, I have never laughed!" Ichigo snapped. "And stop calling me 'King'! I told you a thousand times already I don't like it when you call me that!"
"What the fuck yer shouting at me fer?! They're tryna murder ya! I only made one damn joke, not my fault ya didn't like it".
'It is when you know I hate it!' Ichigo unarmed one of his attackers and kicked the knife away. 'Kami, why do you have to be so damn murderous?! Why can't you just be a normal Zanpakutō?!'
'Ya hear that? Kurosaki's losing his mind?'
'Must be talking ta his imaginary ghost friends'.
"I'm done talking to you".
"Don't ya—"
Of course, that conversation wasn't the sole reason why Zangetsu felt the need to level the Mindscape. It merely had been the straw that broke the camel's back. Zangetsu had thought—because Ichigo had said he recognised him as his Zanpakutō and wanted to do things right—Ichigo would, you know, listen to him without second-guessing every word he spoke.
It didn't matter what they were talking about, Ichigo would find a way to doubt him. For example, when Zangetsu had suggested keeping some more space between his hands when swinging his zanpakutō two-handed, Ichigo had countered with "but Urahara told me to keep a fist between them". When he had scolded Ichigo about overthinking combat the argument he had received was "but Ossan told me I need to read my enemy".
Every goddamn time it was the same excuse over and over again. It was "but Urahara said" this and "but Ossan said" that. Without fail, Ichigo would dismiss Zangetsu's opinion and hide behind either his self-proclaimed teacher or the Other and it was draining the blood from under his nails.
But the excuse Zangetsu hated the most was "I don't want to become stronger, I'm strong enough, as is!" Like, so what? Just cause you don't want to become stronger doesn't mean you can't try out new things! It doesn't excuse not wanting to improve on the skills you already have! It doesn't absolve you from making an effort!
You can never be too strong. Having power was good. It made sure others couldn't hurt you, couldn't manipulate you—let them try and kill them for their efforts!
But Zangetsu was also aware that he had to try and be a little more "understanding", as the Other had put it. He had to be patient and try to see things from Ichigo's perspective. So, yeah... he did understand why Ichigo was a bit hesitant to give it his all during their sparring matches. He just got his powers back, barely a month if Zangetsu made a rough guess. Taking it easy wasn't a bad idea, pushing his core too hard may do more harm than good.
However, even if he understood some of Ichigo's actions, that didn't make it any less frustrating for Zangetsu to deal with.
After releasing one more Getsuga Tenshō, Zangetsu looked at the devastation he had caused with a sense of satisfaction that soothed his prior frustration. It always felt so good to let loose, just vent his ire over his wielder on that stupid town he held so dear. It was very therapeutic.
Heaving a deep breath, Zangetsu was ready to dismiss his blade when he felt something on his nose. It was cold and wet, filled with various emotions of which the most he couldn't even begin to comprehend. Another one hit his cheek and Zangetsu's brow twitched, lips forming a snarl as he looked up to the sky where two more droplets splattered on his face.
Are you fucking kidding me?!
Within seconds the night's sky was hidden behind a layer of grey clouds, rain drizzling down to wet the world with grief, fear, despair, and everything else that had brought this weather upon the Mindscape.
Zangetsu's brow twitched again and with a snarl did he swing his blade with one hand, releasing a silent attack into the distance. Of course, Ichigo would have a nightmare tonight. Out of all days it had to be when Zangetsu himself didn't feel like dealing with the weather. He would have gone to find shelter if he hadn't just levelled the town two times over. Goddammit, why was his luck so abysmal?!
The only silver lining was that the rain wasn't that bad and it would be over in seven minutes or so. Sure, his clothes would probably be wet by then but he wouldn't be soaked. Zangetsu decided he could better spend his time venting his newfound frustration than search for a place to wait it out, by the time he would find a place that was still standing it would have blown over anyway.
Thus, while counting down the seconds, Zangetsu unleashed another round of ire to pulverise the already destroyed world to dust. This time the destruction didn't grant him the sense of relief he had felt prior, the rain that fell from the sky and the sadness it contained fuelling his anger faster than he could release it.
The sixth minute was nearing its end when the world shook violently and the drizzle stopped. Zangetsu heaved breath after breath, pausing only to shake his head to dislodge the water from his hair. He wasn't tired—couldn't even get tired while he was in the Mindscape—but breathing gave him something to focus on and that helped him calm down.
God, he hated the rain.
Dismissing his blade, Zangetsu shrugged off his kosode and wrung most of the water out. It wasn't much but every bit less was worth it. He just had his arms back through the sleeves when his hair stood on end. With Sonído he leapt to the other side of the ripped-up street, a bolt of lightning crashing into the asphalt where he had been standing.
The fuck—
Thunder disrupted his thoughts. Zangetsu looked to the sky to see the clouds had turned black. He evaded another lightning strike and continued his Sonído to flee the area.
What the actual—
The wind hit him mid-stride and Zangetsu was thrown off his trajectory, the world spun as he was taken along like a leaf. He crashed into the streets, inhaling a lung full of water that had his core turn to ice. Zangetsu scrambled to his knees, coughing the despair-filled liquid out of his system as it came pouring down the sky with renewed vengeance.
He didn't understand. Ichigo was awake. Why did the weather get worse?!
Spitting out the last bit of water Zangetsu rose to his feet, summoning his blade and stabbing it in the street to stay standing in place. The wind was strong, doing its best to whisk him away again but Zangetsu didn't budge. What did budge, were the rubble and debris he had created previously. A large piece of concrete that was once a support pillar came at him and Zangetsu fired a Cero to destroy it. The dust and pieces still hit him, tearing away at his clothes but his Hierro protected him from damage.
If only they had some basic knowledge of Kidō, a Bakudō would be really handy in this situation.
'ICHIGO!' He could barely hear himself over the raging storm, the thunder and wind creating a cacophony of noise that absorbed his voice as part of itself. 'ICHIGO, GET YER FUCKING SHIT TAGETHER!'
He wondered if maybe Ichigo couldn't hear him? Perhaps the storm—or Ichigo's current mental state—made it more difficult for him to communicate with his wielder?
'KING?! ANSWER ME, DAMMIT!'
Turns out that Ichigo could hear him. Only his response was not what Zangetsu expected. Instead of a tired "what is it?" that Ichigo was prone to give whenever Zangetsu was annoying, the Zanpakutō Spirit felt a mental barrier pop up in response to his voice.
Zangetsu gritted his teeth. Tch, Bastard thinks he can ignore me? I'll fucking show him. Gathering a chunk of power Zangetsu forcibly materialised into the outside world. Ichigo resisted but his will was fragile, allowing Zangetsu to break through the barriers and escape the storm.
The first thing he did once his form was stable was shake his head. Water went flying around the room as Zangetsu tried to dry his hair as much as he could. There was already a puddle forming beneath him due to how soaked he was but that wasn't his problem to fix. What was his problem was the storm and his disgrace of a wielder who dared to ignore him!
'What the fuck is wrong with ya?!' Zangetsu snapped. 'I'm fucking drowning in that shit world of yers and ya think ya can just ignore me, you—'
Zangetsu paused, confusion pushing his anger on a back burner. Ichigo was sitting at his desk, illuminated by the gentle light of his desk lamp. The scribbling of a pen against paper filled the otherwise silent space, the scratching of lines a little too fast to be purposeful. He hadn't turned around to face his Zanpakutō and showed no sign of acknowledging him. Zangetsu wasn't sure if he should be offended or unnerved because Ichigo wasn't that good at feigning ignorance.
Frowning at the strange behaviour Zangetsu got a little closer, grimacing at the sensation of walking with wet socks. He leaned over his wielder's shoulder, drops of water falling down to stain the dry clothes Ichigo was wearing. 'Why are ya doing homework?' Zangetsu asked, brows knitting together as he recognised the page his wielder had opened in his textbook. 'Thought ya finished that already'.
Ichigo didn't answer his question, reaching with a shaking hand to the pencil holder to acquire another pen. His fingers wrapped around a pencil and tried to retrieve it but he hadn't lifted his hand, causing him to knock over the cylinder and a few pens to slide free. Ichigo made an attempt to straighten it but it was clear his hand-eye coordination wasn't all there. The pencil holder landed on the ground with a clattering of pens and pencils that went flying out and across the floor.
It was a truly pathetic display.
'Kami, yer a fucking mess. Are ya drunk or something? Did yer failure of a father spike yer drink?' Zangetsu questioned. 'Just go ta bed already and get some damn sleep'.
Ichigo didn't respond to him, his Pressure curling in on himself even more. With the one pencil he had managed to get his hands on, Ichigo started to scribble in his notebook again.
'Oi, are ya deaf or something?' Zangetsu asked as he moved closer. He glanced at the pages Ichigo was working on and found them filled with random kanji and scribbles. 'The fuck are you even doing?'
Again, Ichigo didn't say a word in response.
Now miffed at being ignored Zangetsu grabbed Ichigo by the hair and pulled his head back, forcing him to look at him. 'Oi, I'm talking to you!'
Brown eyes were wide in surprise, pupils dilated and unfocused. They blinked a few times before hiding behind eyelids.
'Leave me alone!'
Zangetsu let go, 'I will when ya give me some damn answers'.
Ichigo shied away from him, hands going up to his head to cover his ears. 'Go away'.
'Are ya even listening—'
'Stop trying to convince me!' Ichigo snapped. 'Just go away and leave me be'.
'What the fuck are ya talkin—Hey!' Zangetsu dodged a textbook Ichigo had thrown at him with surprising accuracy. The tome hit the wall and something tore at the impact before it landed open on the ground, the cover and pages no longer aligned.
'It's been years!' Ichigo yelled at him, eyes still pinched shut and palms pressing his ears flat against his skull. His fingers were curling, catching strands of hair and pulling them. 'When will you stop tormenting me?!'
Tormenting? He was here for barely a minute. How can he be tormenting him? 'I will fucking show you what tormenting is if ya don't start talking sense!'
Ichigo stood up from his chair with enough force to knock it over. 'I'm not falling for this again, leave me alone!'
'Ya think I'm joking? I will make yer life fucking miserable—'
'You already are!' Ichigo shouted, the light of his desklamp betraying the tears that were streaming down his face. 'Stop reminding me and leave me alone!'
The notebook was the next projectile and Zangetsu smacked it away. Ichigo stormed past him with surprising speed—somehow managing to avoid bumping into him—and escaped to the hallway before the notebook hit the ground.
'Oi, get back here!' Zangetsu shouted after him as he turned on his heel and went in pursuit. 'Don't ignore me when I'm talking to you, damnit!'
As had become the expected response tonight, Ichigo feigned ignorance of his existence and continued down the hall.
Fucking asshole.
Ichigo descended the stairs and Zangetsu began to wonder where he was going. There appeared to be a destination in Ichigo's mind, for his pace conveyed a sense of purpose—one different than fleeing—but Zangetsu had no clue what that could be.
He was halfway down the stairs himself when he heard the lock of the front door. The fuck? He ain't going outside, is he? Skipping the rest of the steps Zangetsu landed on the ground floor, his eyes going from down to up to take in the situation.
Ichigo had unlocked the door and was in the process of opening it, allowing the cold wind and rain to invade the cosy home. He was still barefooted, dressed in nothing more than his nightwear and with nothing on his person.
'Oh, no ya won't!' Zangetsu grabbed Ichigo by the collar of his shirt and yanked him back while stepping forward to switch places with him. Ichigo fell down to the floor and Zangetsu slammed the door back shut. 'The Hell do ya think ya doing?!'
Ichigo wasn't moving from his new position on the floor, didn't respond to Zangetsu's words or reacted at being thrown. He just lay there unmoving, staring with wide unfocused eyes at the wall as whispers fell from his lips like a desperate prayer.
'He's not here. He's not here. He can't be here'.
Zangetsu felt his patience snap like a rubber band. He moved closer, standing over his wielder and grabbed him by the neckline of his shirt. Zangetsu hoisted Ichigo to his feet, threads snapping under the weight it was suddenly forced to lift, 'Look at me, dammit!'
Ichigo's hands went up to his head to press his palms to his ears, flattening them against his skull. His body was shaking, legs trembling as he continued to whisper, 'He's not here. He's can't be here. This isn't real'.
Zangetsu twisted his fist and forced his wielder into the wall. Ichigo gasped as his back met the unforgiving surface hard enough to leave an imprint.
The stairs creaked and Zangetsu snarled at the raven-haired brat and the sorry excuse of a sperm donor now standing at the top of the stairs.
'I-Ichi-nii!'
'Stay out of it!' Zangetsu hissed at them, stopping both of them in their tracks. Good. He turned back to Ichigo, who was staring at the stairs.
'Oi, I said: look. At. Me'.
Slowly, ever so slowly, did Ichigo move his head. His eyes were wide and red, fresh tears glistening on his skin. Zangetsu raised a brow, not understanding why Ichigo seemed so shocked.
'Y-you... you're real'.
It was so soft Zangetsu barely caught it, the words uncertain and hopeful.
Zangetsu frowned. 'What are ya on about? Of course, I'm—' The rest of his sentence was squeezed out of him as a grunt. A pair of strong—but oh-so fragile human—arms had wrapped tight around his chest, blunt fingernails digging into the soaking wet fabric of his kosode hard enough to leave clear and defined imprints on his back.
'Y-you're real! Thank Kami, you're—' A sob broke free and it took whatever lucidity Ichigo had left with it. The strength in his limbs faded as fast as the tears that now flowed freely down his face.
Zangetsu blinked, his brain not quite knowing how to process whatever it was that had transpired. Ichigo had gone from yelling at him to go away, to breaking down from relief at him being there in less than four minutes. He was vaguely aware of a rapidly increasing amount of weight pressing down on his forearms and automatically used more strength to keep them where they were.
Should he be angry? Zangetsu felt like he should at least be annoyed at the sudden one-eighty in demeanour, maybe even a little peeved because he had gotten various objects thrown at his face. He had the right to be, didn't he?
Looking down at the weight he was supporting he found Ichigo still there, crying his eyes out. He was still trying to crush him the spirit noted absentmindedly, feeling the pressure of now powerless fingertips press into his back. He should push him off. Just drop him to the ground and give a kick for good measure, might even set his head straight or something.
Zangetsu lowered his arms and Ichigo lost it.
'N-no!' He increased his embrace again, 'P-please, don't— I-I can't if you—!'
'What are you on about?!' Zangetsu snapped. 'Start talking sense!'
'He can't'.
Zangetsu whipped his head around to lock eyes with the raven princess, her face strangely subdued.
'Why not?'
'He's still asleep', Isshin elaborated, a similar expression on his own face.
'What do ya mean he's asleep? He walked down the damn stairs! I saw him make homework! No way he's still asleep!'
'Ichi-nii sleepwalks', Karin told. 'It's been a while since he has last done it'.
'Sleepwalking?' Zangetsu frowned, he didn't recall Ichigo doing that before. He adjusted his arms a little to support his wielder a little more comfortably.
'You're his Inner Hollow, right?' Isshin guessed.
'Zanpakutō', Zangetsu corrected sharply. 'I'm his Zanpakuto Spirit, you father failure'. He could feel amusement stir within his shared core, threatening his lips to curl up into a smile but it wasn't enough to override the disdain he felt towards the man.
'Then your name is Zangetsu, right?' Karin asked.
'Right in one, Hime-chan', Zangetsu acknowledged.
'Why are you wet?' she asked, scowling at the nickname.
'None of yer damn businesses. Now tell me what's wrong with him and how I get it to stop!'
'Ichi-nii has nightmares—'
'Karin'.
Karin paused to look at her father, 'What?'
'Don't you think Ichigo's Zanpakutō is the best person to help your nii-san right now?' Isshin asked.
'Uhm... I suppose he would be, but—'
'I'm sure he can figure out the best way on his own'.
'What?' Both Karin and Zangetsu said in harmony.
'But it's clear he doesn't even know what—'
'And neither do we', Isshin countered. 'Ichigo never told us, we could only guess. It wouldn't do for us to give him information that we don't even know for sure is true'.
'Don't even know—Haven't you heard him screaming at night?!' Karin snapped. 'Even Yuzu knows—'
Isshin put a hand over her mouth, 'Karin, this is something very important between a Shinigami and their Zanpakutō. We shouldn't meddle'.
'You fucker!' Oh, how much Zangetsu wanted to lunge at the man. To grab him by the throat and ride him down the stairs like a sleigh. Like, who the fuck did that goat-faced disappointment of a human being think he was? Robbing Zangetsu of valuable information he was in dire need of, he truly deserved to be nailed to a cross by his balls. Unfortunately, Ichigo was still very much a wreck and completely dependent on his Zanpakutō to stay upright and for the life of him, Zangetsu couldn't find the willpower to drop him to the floor like a sack of bricks.
He might be an asshole but he wasn't heartless.
'It ain't meddling when—'
'Na-ah-ah~' Isshin said, wagging the index of his free hand at him as if he were a child. 'There are no shortcuts in building a good relationship, especially one that didn't start off on the right foot'.
Did... did that fucker just interrupt him? And scold him on top of that? Oh~ he was so dead!
'Come on, Karin'. Without giving the young woman a warning or say in the matter, Isshin wrapped an arm around her waist. 'Let's leave them be'. He then began to drag her back down the hall like he was some sick and perverted kidnapper. Karin didn't help with the image, kicking into the air and yelling her protest through the hand that covered her mouth.
The ruckus faded, the sound of sobs becoming more prominent in response. Zangetsu looked down again at the mess of orange tresses that belonged to his wielder. Ichigo was still crying and clinging and speaking in some gibberish no one could understand.
Zangetsu had absolutely no idea what to do. Was he supposed to wait it out or try waking Ichigo up? Should he kneel down, shake him, drop him, throw him, or just keep supporting him? Was he supposed to say something, yell, or stay silent? Why wasn't there a fucking manual for these kinds of things?!
'Uhm... Ichigo?' Zangetsu nudged him a little in the hopes he would get a more lucid response. 'Why are ya crying?'
'I-I'm not', Ichigo denied.
'Yer literally using me as a tissue'. Not that it mattered as he was soaked already anyway.
Ichigo hummed, the sound interrupted by hiccups and sniffles, 'J-just happy you're h-here'.
White brows knitted together once more. He's crying cuz he's happy I'm here? That just didn't make any sense at all! They had been in a heated argument about why murder, violence, and intimidation was/wasn't appropriate when dealing with thugs; it hadn't lasted long but it had ended with Ichigo blocking him out of frustration. Sure, overall their relationship had been in a much better place compared to how it was before (not that that meant anything considering how bad it was) but their interactions still ended up in shouting matches more often than not.
So why in the world would Ichigo be so happy to see him that it literally had him break down in tears? What could possibly be—
"Stop trying to convince me!"
"I'm not falling for it again".
"It's been years!"
"When will you stop tormenting me?!"
"You're real".
Zangetsu hauled Ichigo to his feet and pulled him close; one arm around his lower back and the other going under his right arm, forearm between shoulder blades and palm against the back of his head. Ichigo took advantage of the change to wrap his arms around Zangetsu's shoulders, burying his face in the crook of his neck.
'I-I'm sorry, I—*hic*—I'm so-so s-sorry'.
'Ya ain't got nothin' ta apologise fer, King', Zangetsu murmured back, doing everything he could to keep his nails from tearing into the soft flesh of his wielder. He kept his eyes on the wall, the glow of his fury reflecting off against the paint giving it a gentle golden hue.
Ichigo let out a warbled laugh, 'Y-you're here. You're actually h-here'.
'I am'. He fisted the loose fabric of Ichigo's shirt, pulling it tight around his frame. 'I'm here, King. I ain't going anywhere'.
Zangetsu remained standing, didn't move a muscle as he let Ichigo get it all out of his system. Occasionally he would allow some words of assurance (he thought they were assuring, at least) to fall from his lips whenever Ichigo's relieved garble turned to pleas for forgiveness. He knew Ichigo probably didn't hear him but Zangetsu hoped it still soothed some of the guilt his wielder had burdened himself with to shoulder.
He didn't know how long they had been standing there, how late it had been when he had materialised, or what the time was now. His grasp on time was still a little wack after the last few years. All he knew was that it must have been a while as he could feel himself start to tire. He hadn't taken that much energy with him when he had materialised and his supply was starting to run out. Fortunately, Ichigo appeared to be running out of energy as well. His crying had been reduced to the occasional hiccup and sniffle, the strength he had prior nonexistent, leaving him dead weight in his Zanpakutō's arms.
Zangetsu pulled Ichigo's head back, noticing his eyes were half-lidded and unfocused. The slow and steady pull on his hair didn't seem to bother Ichigo much, perhaps it didn't even register.
'Ya convinced I'm here now?' Zangetsu asked.
Brown eyes moved a bit around but never found focus.
'Ain't even got energy left ta talk, do ya?' Zangetsu looked up the stairs and then back at the mess that was his wielder. 'I can't believe I'm gonna do this', he muttered under his breath. Without warning, he ducked down and swiped Ichigo off his feet into a bridal carry. 'Back to bed with ya.
Ichigo didn't object or react to being carried, his eyelids barely parted. His breathing had evened out.
With a roll of his eyes did Zangetsu ascend the stairs, skipping the two creaky steps on his way up. Ichigo's bedroom door was still open and Zangetsu entered it, avoiding the chair on his way to the bed where he laid his wielder back down. After a brief moment, he put him under the blankets as well.
'Kami, yer a handful, ya know that?' Zangetsu breathed out. It seemed sleep had claimed Ichigo properly once more, his face relaxed but still showing the signs of his prior state of grief. It made his blood boil all over again.
'Tch'. He turned around and closed the door, noticing the book and pen Ichigo had thrown at him on the ground. The expression he had on his face as he screamed at the spirit flashed past his mind's eye with crystal clear clarity. Zangetsu put his forehead on the cool surface of the door, heaving a deep breath and then another for good measure. When he no longer felt like the need for retribution was all-consuming he picked the two projectiles up. He put the book back on the desk and gathered the knocked-over pencil holder and pens up to place them back as well.
He didn't have to do this. Zangetsu knew that. Hell, he didn't even know why he was doing it, what could possibly motivate him to pick up the mess his wielder had made? No, that wasn't true, he did know the answer to that. Because, while Ichigo had made this mess, it wasn't his fault he had become a mess. Other people had done that to him. People who were older, wiser, and more experienced in every way; adults who had no problem sacrificing the sanity and the Soul's stability of a fifteen-year-old—
*Crack*
Zangetsu looked at his hand to find it was drenched in dark blue. Briefly, he wondered how he'd got injured until the riddle solved itself as the broken pen in his fist registered. His lips pulled into a snarl as he dumped the broken writing tool into the bin beside Ichigo's desk, rubbing his stained hand off on the black shitagi he wore under his bright white kosode.
Why was he doing this again?
He turned around, seeing the sleeping form of his wielder. Zangetsu heaved another sigh and walked back to the bed, sitting on the edge of the nightstand. Ichigo looked to have finally found rest. His breathing had evened out, chest rising and falling in a slow but steady rhythm. Hopefully, it would stay that way for the rest of the night. It was not like he cared about how well Ichigo slept or anything but once it started to affect the weather of the Mindscape negatively then Zangetsu couldn't exactly ignore it. He rather not have a repeat of what happened during the war.
"It's been a while since he has last done it".
Zangetsu hummed lowly as the princess's words echoed in his mind. This wouldn't be the last time Ichigo would walk and talk in his sleep all disillusioned about reality. No way it would be. Zangetsu might not know much about how brains worked but he knew that they were as capable of the most amazing feats as they were fragile and vulnerable, easy to manipulate if you knew how to. So easy in fact, that the brain could fool itself.
'Maybe ya do need a damn therapist'. How often hadn't he overheard Ichigo and the peasants he calls his friends joke about needing a shrink, how easy it would be for them to be submitted to a psych ward if they were ever overheard after a glass too many. Now Zangetsu thought about it, maybe it wasn't a running joke between a group of friends but more a wish they all shared? 'Tough luck tryna find one, though'.
He could feel his energy starting to run out, his form destabilising and fading. Zangetsu gave his wielder one last look, the light of the moon illuminating the tracks the tears had taken on Ichigo's face.
He would make those people pay one day for ruining his wielder.
#
The End
(c) BLEACH - Tite Kubo