3 chapters in one month, we actually did it! Man, This has been a crazy as hell month hasnt it? Bleach ended, (Warning spoiler) Juvia "died" (We'll see how long that lasts.) and I got into a car crash. Dont worry, Im fine, just a bit shaken up.
But thats enough out of me, lets get right to it! I do hope to see your reviews, that would put a smile on our faces.
Bleach is owned by Tite Kubo and Shounen jump. Fairy tail is owned by Hiro Mashima and weekly shounen magazine. I own NOTHING. This is all just for fun.
When Ichigo opened his eyes again, the first thing his mind registered was the warmth. The second was how tired he felt. Lying perfectly still, he slowly came to, his mind scattered and distracted. Then, thirdly, he felt the pain, and it was enough of a jolt to trigger a thought.
It hurt. Dulled, its edge taken off, but it hurt. He looked around, and forced the place around him to come into focus. At first, he assumed it would be a hospital, because it seemed the most logical place. But no… this looked like… the shop…
The shop. Where he'd been brought after he was cut. Hazy memory images, cut and unclear like dirtied movie tape, of him being carried inside by strong arm. Carried inside, and…
The memory hit him, like a truck. He had fought those shinigami. He had lost. His mother had been there. His mother. Mom!
Remembering the image vividly now, of his mother being cut down by that bastard shinigami, he sat bolt upright. Immediately, he was overwhelmed with pain. Blood seeped through his bandages, and he fell back onto the bed- a futon, actually- unable to focus on anything but the hurt.
"My, my," came a voice, quiet and restrained, and Ichigo managed to recognize it as Urahara Kisuke's through his pained daze, "look at you, trying your best to undo all our hard work."
Ichigo murmured something incomprehensible, wanting and feeling too many things to say anything coherent.
"Take it easy, now," Urahara said. There was a gentle touch to Ichigo's chest, and a surge of energy. After a minute or so, although it might have been an hour for all Ichigo could tell, the pain eased. Finally able to move his head, he looked up. The shopkeepers was slowly running a hand over his injury, a slight green light emanating from it.
"It's a medical kido," he explained calmly. "I am no expert, but you pick up a little bit of this and a little bit of that in my line of work. I know enough to stop that injury from rupturing any further, for example, and how to dull your pain. It really wouldn't do for you to bleed to death after all our hard work."
"Mom…" Ichigo hissed out, his voice faint.
"Oh." Urahara said. "Oh yes, I suppose that would be a concern. You must have seen her fall."
"Mom!" Ichigo insisted, his voice getting desperate. Had he had the energy, he would have put in something more eloquent, like 'is she okay', but he was too weak.
"She's alive, although it was a close call," Urahara said, and words could not describe the relief that washed over Ichigo. He did not even want to consider life without her, let alone her having died because of him- how could he ever have faced his family again? How could he have moved on?
He must have made some sort of grunt, because Urahara said,
"Yes, I understand. Let me help you. Take my hand, and very gently, sit up just a little."
Struggling, Ichigo reached out with a hand, and Urahara took it. Gently and slowly, he was pulled into a semi-sitting position, and Urahara gestured toward the rest of the room.
"Look," he said. "She and your cousin are just down there. Yoruichi and I helped, although I won't lie- the chief reason you two are alive is the skill of my associate, Tessai."
Ichigo looked. Further down the room, which he hadn't thought to look through in his disoriented state, lay his mother, under a blanket. She was pale, and quite still, but her chest heaved; she was breathing. Exhausted, and overwhelmed with relief, Ichigo fell back down to his futon.
"You will recover soon enough." Urahara explained. "It's chiefly about replacing the blood you lost. Your injuries will soon be healed. The kido was effective. We took the liberty of fusing your soul with your body again- effectively, you are human once more."
"I'm powerless?" Ichigo mumbled. Compared to knowing his mother was safe, it seemed a small price, but he would miss the strength.
"Anything but," Urahara said, with a small grin. "In fact-"
There was a crash outside the room, and the voice of Tessai could be heard.
"Manager!"
The doors burst open- as in, they flew off their hinges- and a furious Erza ran in through it. Seeing Kisuke, she ran directly forward. The punch she threw was the envy of any heavyweight champion, and it connected squarely with Kisuke's cheek, sending him tumbling into the wall.
"URAHARA KISUKE!" She roared. Grabbing him by the collar, she pulled him up and hit him once, twice, three times, without any form of restraint. Urahara, strangely enough, wasn't resisting. There was no sign of her stopping, but thankfully, a strong hand grasped her wrist. His muscles bulging against her raw strength, Tessai just barely managed to hold her back. His voice strained, he said,
"Miss Scarlet, I must ask that you please restrain yourself, else I shall have to do it for you."
"Let go, you son of a bitch!" Erza snarled. "For hours, you kept me trapped down there, and I could feel it all! I could feel them cut down Ichigo! Masaki!"
"Then no doubt you felt Yoruichi, Tessai and I recover them," Urahara said, standing up straight. Rubbing his cheek, he spat out a bit of blood. "I don't begrudge you that, even if it hurts- you punch like a mule, actually- but either you calm down, or you will be chained down. Your choice."
"You rotten, evil bastard" Erza snarled, still tensed up.
"Aunt…" Ichigo said weakly. "We're here. We're okay. Sorta."
Straining for just another second, Erza finally relaxed herself.
"Let go." She said, her voice calm but bitterly angry. "I'll… restrain myself."
"Very well." Tessai said. Ichigo had half expected her to throw another punch, but she headed right for Ichigo's sickbed, kneeling beside the futon.
"Well, it looks like it's over for me," Ichigo said with a weak smile. "But at least I almost kicked the ass of one of them…"
"The one you fought was an old student of mine," Erza said, tears at the edge of her eyes. "You did brilliantly, Ichigo."
"Not brilliantly enough."
"We'll find a way." Erza said. "No matter what, we will."
"Well, as it happens…" Urahara said, his tone discreet- although anything he said was likely to be inflammatory.
"We are done with you, you heartless, snivelling little scum," Erza said, her gentle face turning harsh again as she turned to face the shopkeeper. "If I had been out there, they wouldn't be here, half dead!"
"No, if you had been out there, then by now half of the gotei's strongest fighters would be out there subduing you, and you'd be brought back for execution in shackles- or worse, fall into the hands of you-know-who." Urahara said sharply. "There would be teams investigating everyone you interacted with. Isshin too would go back in chains. Masaki and the kids? Could be dead or captured. The Gotei would be on full alert, and everything you worked for would be gone."
Ichigo breathed in. He had had no idea how badly the Gotei wanted his aunt.
"I know full well how impulsively righteous you are," Urahara said, "which is why, for the good of your family, and for the good of my plan, you had to be restrained. It had to be done. Simple as that."
"You still..." Erza said angrily, and it was obvious she wanted somebody to blame.
"Like I said- I don't begrudge you these bruises," Urahara said, pointing to his face, where multiple swellings were already starting to form, "but it had to be done."
"He's… right. Isn't he?"
The voice, weak and just barely audible, came from Masaki. She had opened her eyes, although laying still, still.
"He's a scoundrel!" Erza snarled. "Er, I mean… a-are you okay?"
"Been better." Masaki mumbled. "But he's not wrong, is he? Even if he's a scoundrel."
Erza fell silent.
"I'm asking you, because only you know if he's right or not. I'm not shinigami," Masaki said. "So is he wrong?"
With a look on her face like she had just eaten a truckload of lemons, Erza said,
"…no."
"What's best is not always easy." Urahara said. "I… sympathize. But I could not let you ruin this. It's too important."
"What is?" Erza snapped. "What 'plans' are you talking about?"
"Let's just say that this Certain Individual has a hand in this," Urahara said cryptically, and Ichigo felt confused. "More pressingly, for you at least, Rukia is facing execution."
"What?" Erza snapped. "That makes no sense!"
"You think he cannot do that?" Urahara said bemusedly.
"But…" Erza said. "But why? And how do you know this?"
"I have my sources on the inside, too. It's been well over a century." Urahara said, apparently unable to not be cryptic.
"Why?" Erza demanded.
"Who can say?" Urahara said, shrugging. "You should know better than anyone that he does not share his true intentions with anyone. Maybe it's some greater objective. Maybe it's just for his amusement."
Erza eyed him suspiciously. "You are sure it's him? Absolutely sure?"
"Changing a set of misdemeanours, on a member of the noble caste no less, to a death sentence is extremely unusual. Unheard of, even. It takes considerable influence to do so- among the Central Forty-Six, the highest authority. Do you believe in coincidences, Erza? Coincidences that big?"
Erza was silent for a while, deep in thought.
"Who is 'him'?" Ichigo murmured confusedly, utterly puzzled. "What's going on?"
"Something from my past," Erza said evasively. "It's… it's my own cross to bear. You stay down and heal."
"We will talk in the morning." Urahara said. "The worst of all your injuries should be gone by then. Miss Scarlet, I suggest you catch some sleep- and if you cannot, think on what I have said."
Erza gave him the strangest look, one Ichigo had never seen before. Worried, foreboding, wistful, confused…
Somewhere, he had to have slipped into a slumber, although Ichigo could not for the life of him place where. He was still a bit disoriented, and he wasn't sure if it was some side-effect of the kido, the horrible physical trauma, or both. What he did know was that there was a small device next to his head, no larger than a wrist watch, emitting a small, quiet set of beeps, just enough to wake him and nobody else.
Given the greying lights outside, it had to be early morning. Reaching out to the little device, still half asleep, Ichigo took it in his hands. The little thing quieted down, and Ichigo nearly fell asleep again. The pain had gone away, remarkably so, and though the futon was a bit harder than what he was used to, he didn't mind.
He had almost fallen asleep, when he registered that there were voices in the distance. His aunt, he realized, and the shopkeeper, conversing in tones that were at the same time hushed and heated. His urge to sleep finally being overwhelmed by a growing curiosity, Ichigo opened his eyes, suppressed a yawn, and sat up. He still ached a little, but nothing close to what had happened the last time he had tried to sit up on his own. Carefully making his way toward the sliding doors- which had somehow been repaired while he had slept- he listened in.
"…I keep telling you, it's a fool's errand." Urahara said calmly, although there was an urgency in his voice. "You are chanceless on your own."
"I kept asking myself all night long why it's happening," Erza said fiercely, "but when it comes down to it, it doesn't matter. Rukia is going to be executed, and she doesn't deserve it. I have to try and help, no matter what."
"It's a suicide run, and you know it."
"I've spit in the face of the impossible before." Erza said stubbornly. "I'm going to try, and you're not going to stop me."
"All alone, leaving all your precious people behind without even saying goodbye?"
"Do not try to manipulate me!" Erza sneered, her voice rising for just a second. "They have no idea what I'm heading into. If they knew, they'd insist on talking me out of it, or worse, come along. They are not ready."
"Can I remind you what this foolish righteousness would have accomplished last night?" Urahara said flatly. "At the least, wait. Think before you act."
"You'll have to put me in chains again." Erza said, and it was incredible how stubborn she was; mules would have been in awe of her single-mindedness.
"I actually doubt if I will." Urahara said, stealing a glance at the doors. Ichigo realized just who had placed that little device next to his head- and why.
Slowly, taking it easy, he stood up and slid the doors open.
"Erza." He said quietly.
"I-Ichigo." Erza said, almost sounding guilty. "You should be in bed."
"You're leaving?" He said. Emotion was welling up inside him, no doubt aided by his damaged, confused state of mind. How could she?
"Look, Ichigo…" Erza said, trailing off. The guilty look on her face said it all, and Ichigo knew exactly what the shopkeeper had planned- but he didn't care the least bit.
"You're leaving us behind?" He hissed, slowly walking toward her. "After all of this, you're going to leave us? Go after Rukia on what, a suicide run? Or was he just full of shit?"
"You don't understand!" Erza said, almost desperately. "Rukia is a friend, and I can not stand by and let this happen to me. I can't! I have to try, even if it's almost impossible!"
"What about the rest of us, huh?" Ichigo said angrily. "What are we going to do without you? What about Orihime? Rukia's your friend- our friend- sure, but what good will it do anyone if you go ahead and die on us?"
Erza balled her fists, and infuriated look on her face. She shot Urahara a vicious glare, and then looked back at Ichigo.
"Look…"
"No, don't you 'look' me!" Ichigo said angrily, his temper slowly building up. "Like hell you're going to leave all of us behind to go alone!"
"Why don't we postpone this little spat until after breakfast, yes?" Urahara cut in smoothly, before it could escalate. "Let's not have harsh words when we're not thinking clearly. Talk this out when you're all thinking clearly."
"Don't you leave us." Ichigo said, and his tone was stubborn enough to rival Erza's. "Don't."
Erza looked at him helplessly, and kept her fists balled.
"Fine." She said frustratedly. "Fine. Breakfast. Whatever."
In the morning, Isshin stopped by, Urahara apparently having informed him earlier. Beside himself with worry, he fussed endlessly over Masaki and Ichigo both. All joking attitudes dropped, he was entirely serious, examining them both fully as a doctor. Ichigo was tempted to mention Urahara's part in this, but decided not to- it would only be adding misery to the pile, and the man had had some good reasons for it.
In the end, it took some very strong convincing for Masaki to make him leave for work, insisting she was fine. The three of them had indeed recovered well- their wounds mostly gone, all that was left were scars and aches. After a hearty breakfast, Orihime, Tatsuki and Chad showed up, no doubt having been conveniently notified by the shopkeeper, and Ichigo was, despite himself, a little impressed with Urahara's manipulative skills. Erza was sulking in a corner, looking like she had nowhere to go, arms crossed over her chest.
"So," Urahara said, after the obligatory exchanges of oh-my-god-are-you-okay had mostly passed, "I think we all have things to discuss."
He was flanked by Tessai and Yoruichi, and the ten of them were still in the same room that had functioned as an emergency medicare unit.
"Yeah, like how we're going to get back at these bastards," Tatsuki said with a scowl. She, like Orihime, had grown up side-by-side with Ichigo's family, and him and his mother having been this close to death had shaken her. She had responded with anger; Orihime with shock. Chad was as stoic as ever.
"A good enough attitude," Urahara said with a smirk. "Let's start with what we know."
Stepping into the middle of the room, he flicked out a fan. Looking like he rather enjoyed the attention, he continued,
"Late last night, Rukia was taken back to the soul society by the leader of her own clan, also her brother. Mister Ishida here mistook the situation for something it was not, attacked, and things went downhill from there. Mister Kurosaki here was badly bloodied, and Mrs. Kurosaki was nearly killed."
"Assholes," Tatsuki muttered.
"That in itself is not too bad, horrible injuries aside," Urahara continued, "except I have it confirmed that Rukia faces execution."
Ichigo had already heard the news, but the rest of them flinched.
"But- but why?" Orihime exclaimed. "She didn't do anything wrong, did she? Not that bad, right?"
"Indeed she did not," Urahara said. "We suspect foul play. Which leads me to our second point." He pointed his fan at Erza.
"Miss Scarlet…"
"She was about to run off in the night." Ichigo said bluntly.
"What?!" Orihime said.
"I-I wasn't thinking straight, all right?" Erza said defensively, sounding even guiltier as Orihime looked at her.
"Indeed, we've all been there, overwhelmed with passion. Et cetera, and so forth," Urahara said dismissively. "However, I think miss Scarlet will still insist on attempting to save Rukia. Is that correct?"
"I have to try." Erza said stubbornly. "It's just… it's a Fairy Tail thing."
"Fairy Tale?" Orihime said confusedly. "Erza, what's going on?"
"A rescue mission." Urahara said, shooting them a grin. "It's only right. Save the maiden fair, and all that. Unfairly sentenced to death by a tyrannical government- how could a group of such upstanding heroes not act?"
"This is not a joke!" Erza snarled. "You have no idea-"
"Actually, I very much do," Urahara cut in. "Now, why don't we ask the others. Who here intends to let miss Scarlet attempt this alone?"
"Hell no." Ichigo said flatly. "Rukia's not just your friend. She's mine, too, and she saved my life. I'm coming too."
"Count me in," Tatsuki said eagerly. "I was there that night, too. I owe her the same as you."
"If Erza is going, so am I." Orihime said resolutely.
"Then I say the same for Ichigo." Chad said. "I will come with you, and lend whatever aid I can."
"On my honour as a quincy, I swear that I too will come," Uryu said, having remained silent until now. "I owe the shinigami a debt of pain, and it would shame me to watch all of my… friends stand up to this injustice while I am left wanting."
"I'm coming too." It was Masaki's voice. Ichigo turned to her, shocked.
"Mom!"
"What?" She said dismissively. "Do you seriously think I'd let my son go into something that dangerous on his own? I remember doing better than you, actually."
"B-but-" he protested.
"No objections, or you're grounded," Masaki said with a smirk. Ichigo could have sworn he heard Ishida snicker.
Erza looked at them all with horror.
"You can't." She said. "You can't. The people in the Gotei… the soldiers they command, there are true monsters there. You think you are strong? Ichigo, Masaki, you saw a captain- at one fifth of his power, not even using half of his arsenal. You were chanceless. What good would it do if I went in and died? What good would it do if you all went in and died?!"
"If indeed this was a loud and hard mission to bust them out with force, I would agree," Urahara said, looking amused. "But… I have a better idea."
"Like what?" Erza snapped.
"A quick in-and-out," Urahara said smoothly. "Yoruichi will lead you. Like myself, she has an intimate knowledge of the Gotei's inner working, including its city layout. You go in, cause some chaos, and your fastest members scurry away to secure Rukia in the confusion. There's more to it than this, of course, but that is the plan."
"It's still madness," Erza insisted stubbornly.
Still a bit sore, Ichigo stood upright, and looked her in the eye.
"We're not backing down. We're getting her back, together, and that's that."
For a moment, two equally stubborn gazes clashed, the both of them frowning determinedly. Erza balled her fists, grit her teeth, and finally looked away.
"You people…" she muttered, shaking her head.
At the same time, something stirred in her chest, a memory even older than her time in the afterlife. The memory of being surrounded by brave, optimistic people who would do anything for their extended family, no matter the odds. Across worlds, across so much time, it seemed she had found Fairy Tail again, albeit under a new name. Slowly, she smiled.
"Fine." She said. "But this happens on my terms. Except Masaki, Yoruichi and I, you are all complete rookies- and yes that does include you, Ichigo- and you're going to do what I say, when I say it."
"What?" Ichigo said, apparently having expected further arguing. "I mean. Er, yes. That's great."
"As it happens, the minimum waiting period for an execution is a month," Urahara cut in, "and with your school semesters having just finished… well, you'll have three weeks of time. Three weeks to train, to prepare, to make yourself as ready as you can."
The group murmured their approvals, or nodded stoically in the case of Chad and Uryu, and Erza stood up.
"Together, then."
"Together." Ichigo said, and nodded with a smile.
"Rest, recover and prepare," Urahara said. "Tomorrow at dawn, in my basement, training begins."
It was with some trepidation that Ichigo made the climb the next day. More aware than ever of his human limitations, the long ladder down was infuriating. Just days ago, he could have made it down or up in one or two jumps. Now, he was holding on for dear life, because a fall would be fatal.
Once down, he assembled with the rest of the group. His mother had come, wearing an old-looking white uniform, to match Uryu's. He'd never seen it before, and it looked dusty- probably not used for many, many years.
Making his entrance was Urahara, coming out from behind a rock. The man, Ichigo noticed, loved his entrances.
"Well, well, well then!" He began, spinning his cane a few times with one hand, "where do we start?"
"Well, um," Ichigo said, awkwardly raising a hand, "how about… well, I don't have powers anymore. So there's that."
"In a second!" Urahara said reassuringly. "For our training regimen, who shall train what, and with who?"
"Uryu and I will train together." Masaki said, and Uryu gave her a surprised look. "I'm out of shape as it is, and I need a good partner- and he needs to learn everything his father didn't teach him. I'm rusty, but I'm pretty sure I know it better than he."
"I-it's an honour," Uryu mumbled, looking a little stunned, and Ichigo realized it had to be rather a monumental thing to hear. If Uryu's father hadn't taught him anything, then Masaki teaching him what was his heritage had to be, well, sort of a big deal.
"Yes, yes," Masaki said dismissively. "This is not about honour. We need to be the best we can be."
"Very good," Urahara said.
"And I shall continue with Tatsuki," Yoruichi said. Tatsuki gave an eager nod.
"Leaving miss Inoue and Mr. Yasutora," Urahara said. "I shall oversee the two of you personally. I think I'll manage."
This left Ichigo and Erza, although one thing was still missing- just how the hell he would train without being a shinigami. Before he could voice his concerns, though, Urahara turned to him.
"At last, then, young Mr. Kurosaki." There was a grin on his face, and Ichigo did not like the look of it.
"Erza, what's going on?" He said.
"I don't know, really," she said, and shrugged. "Although he'll behave, or else."
"Oh, fear not," Urahara said smoothly. "I have a method to restore- or rather, grant you- power. As a caveat, it is rather radical and carries with it significant risk."
"Well, let's have it," Ichigo said. He felt a bit nervous, but was too determined to flinch.
From out his coat, Urahara produced a sword- a zanpakutou, it looked like.
"Asauchi." Erza commented. "How…?"
"Like I said, I have my sources," Urahara said coolly, stepping closer to Ichigo.
"Asauchi?" Ichigo echoed.
"When first a prospective soul enters the shinigami academy, they are given a sword just like this, an Asauchi." Urahara explained. "A blank slate. A material from which a zanpakutou spirit develops, as the soul grows in power and skill. When happening naturally, it harmlessly creates a sentient weapon that resonates with its users."
"But this isn't harmless." Ichigo said apprehensively.
"This goes into your chest," Urahara said flatly. "A tool meant for a shinigami, it will trigger a reaction from your considerable spiritual energy. It's a shortcut. But as such, it comes with a risk."
"Such as?" Ichigo said, knowing he would not like the answer.
"Death." Urahara said simply. "Or rather, annihilation. If you just died, your soul would separate from your body, and eventually pass on to the soul society. Here, there is a slight risk your energy will overload, go critical, and burn out. All of your reiatsu would disperse in the process, leaving your body a lifeless husk, and everything you ever were would be lost."
He sounded almost cheery, which made it all the worse.
"How big of a risk?" Ichigo inquired.
"Oh, not very large," Urahara said dismissively. "It has of course never been tested on somebody as powerful as you, but on average… I'd say no more than thirty-seven percent."
Thirty-seven percent. Almost a four in ten chance of… complete oblivion. Right.
"Are you sure, Ichigo?" Erza said. "We can do it without you. There's no need for this."
"I'll do it." Ichigo said resolutely, knowing he was mostly being stubborn. "Um… mom?"
His mother had been listening intently, and there was a clear look of worry in her face.
"You know what I'll think," she said plainly. "Don't do it. It's too dangerous. But…" She threw her hands up, in exasperation. "I can't stop you. Make your choice."
Ichigo swallowed, and extended a hand. Urahara handed the sword to him. It felt heavy in his hand. Hesitantly, he drew the blade out. It looked quite real, sharp and tangible, and he would never have guessed it was of spiritual making.
Surging in hyper-speed, thought after thought ran through his mind. When he had first stabbed a sword into his chest and gained Rukia's powers. When he had saved his friends. When he had learned and trained. When he had come to enjoy the rush of a good fight, the sense of power. His mother's anger when she first found out. Her constant worry. Rukia, her face almost visible before him. The thought of death, true death, overtaking him.
He had faced that same feeling of death just two nights ago, against Abarai Renji. He had not backed down then. Thinking of Rukia, he slowly angled the point of the blade upward, against his sternum.
"Now, one thing," Urahara said hastily, "once that enters you, you will feelsomething. Just what that something is, I have no clue, but I know for a fact that all previous test subjects were quite conscious." Ichigo pushed away the thought of people having tried this before, focusing entirely on the sword before him.
"It's absolutely vital," Urahara continued, "that you learn the name of your blade before you wake up, or at the very least obtain the powers of a shinigami. This is well and beyond what a typical shinigami is expected to learn so quickly- but then again, you are hardly typical."
"And if I don't?" Ichigo said.
"Then you don't make it back."
Taking one last look at his mother, Ichigo swallowed, blinked, and firmly pushed the sword into his chest. It slid in like a knife through butter, and for a second Ichigo felt nothing. Then came oblivion, and Ichigo knew nothing else.
At some point, and it was impossible to tell time in whatever space this was, Ichigo became aware that he was floating, or perhaps falling, through… something.
Looking around, he saw nothing but whiteness. It was not like a cloud, where you could see swirls of white mist- pure whiteness, as far as he could see, and there he was floating or falling or lying; he couldn't tell which. He could move his arms and hands, he noticed, but it seemed to get him nowhere. It was all white, a single shade of the colour as far as the eye could see.
Then suddenly, it wasn't. The change was too quick to even register; Ichigo blinked more than a few times. It was like some hyper-rapid graphics rendering in a computer game, where terrain shifted into focus once you got closer- except this looked very, very real.
The new landscape was odd, but it was a relief to feel some sort of structure around him; a hardness under his feet and gravity to keep him in place. Confusedly, he stood up, and took in the view of this new world.
To the very horizon, odd, white structures stretched. They were full of neatly lined little crevices, and upon closer inspection there were large gaps in between them. They would have looked like streets, excepts streets were usually lined with asphalt or at least cobblestones. The surface beneath him was smooth, white and flat, excepting the small indentations here and there, depressing into the street- or ground, or whatever it was- just by a couple of inches. He looked to the edge, and there seemed to be an abyss extending down, further than his eyes could see.
It was absurdly bright. A blue sky extended as far as he could see, not a cloud in sight, and for all he could tell, this place- whatever it was- stretched to infinity, an unending mass of blue and white.
'You are going to see something', all right. Now there was an understatement...
He looked around with confusion, but never had the chance to marvel at its alien strangeness, or despair at its vastness, because his reveries were interrupted that very moment.
"ICHIGO."
The voice was deep, powerful, and rung across the entire world as if it were the only sound ever heard. For all Ichigo knew, it might well be the truth. Confusedly, he looked around, and a few moments later he saw him. A middle-aged man, not unlike his father, but with wild, unkempt hair, a long black cloak covering his lean features, and an odd pair of orange-coloured glasses, much too large to fill any practical function.
He hovered in the air above him, and Ichigo blinked as he saw him descend.
"Without consideration or forethought, I am born," said the man, his voice ringing across the world, almost deafening. It occurred to Ichigo that his voice wasn't actually very loud- it just had a way of making itself very, very clearly heard.
"Awakened rudely, I stand before you. Who are you?"
"Er, um, Ichigo. Kurosaki Ichigo." Ichigo said tamely. What was this? A hallucination? Some spirit? The zanpakutou itself?
"That is not enough." The man said, a hint of distaste in his voice. "To know me, you must know yourself. Who are you?"
It was annoyingly cryptic, and Ichigo wasn't having it.
"I introduced myself already, okay?" He snapped back. The man was hovering above him still, having stopped a full two meters above, and Ichigo felt a little intimidated. He looked very, very serious, and Ichigo felt quite vulnerable.
"When somebody gives you their name, it's only polite to give yours back! So why don't you tell me, eh?" Ichigo demanded.
"You rude pup," the man said. "To be so harshly awakened, made to live, and you have the gall to make demands?"
"Made to live?" Ichigo said confusedly. "What are you, old man?"
"I am you, and you are I," the apparition said gravely.
Something dawned on Ichigo.
"You're my zanpakutou, aren't you?"
"Slowly does the rude child awaken," said the man, and Ichigo noticed his cape fluttering- which was odd, because there was no hint of wind here.
"And... you're pissed because you didn't get to develop naturally. Right?" Ichigo said, one thing after another dawning on him. Zanpakutou were proud creatures, if his experience with Erza's absurd companion was any judge, and he made a note to speak more politely.
"That does not nearly describe it." The man said.
"Then please, zanpakutou, give me your name," Ichigo said boldly, hoping his tone was sufficiently polite.
"You know my name," the spirit said, to Ichigo's frustration. "You need only dig it out from your mind."
"I..." Ichigo started, biting back a snappier reply. "I do not, great spirit."
"Sycophantic flattery will not appease me. Would it appease you, would-be master?"
"Um. No?" Ichigo said.
"It would not." The man said, staring down judgmentally on Ichigo. "For you are I, and I am you, and we despise underhandedness and dishonesty."
Ichigo got a sense that, in some way, the zanpakutou was giving him hints- hopefully to completing this process before he was purged from existence.
"You risked all to bring me into being," the zanpakutou said. "I may well die before I am an hour old. Why?"
"Because we're forthright, we hate underhandedness, and we do the right thing." Ichigo said stubbornly. "Because I can't let my aunt go in alone. Because I can't let Rukia die because she did the right thing and saved me."
"For this, you risk your life?" The spirit said haughtily. "Nobody would blame you for leaving things be. You did not ask for this life. You are not obligated to sacrifice your future for the failures of others."
"But here I am still doing it." Ichigo shot back.
The zanpakutou spirit looked down on him inscrutably.
"You wish to know my name?" It said.
"You're damn right." Ichigo said firmly. The knowledge that he ran the risk of dying was there, but somehow pushed aside, replaced by a willingness to move forward, to succeed. To win.
"Then I shall give you a test. Fail, and we shall both die."
"That's... drastic." Ichigo said. "So-"
Mid-sentence, he was interrupted, as all of reality shifted ninety degrees. For but a moment, Ichigo saw the landscape, shifted, and realized that the odd world was actually very familiar. Endless rows of skyscrapers, turned so as to seem like some odd ground...
Then he fell. Flailing wildly, he cried out. He couldn't even see the ground, looking grey in the distance, and a few seconds of falling later, even with terminal velocity achieved- if there was such a thing in this world- it seemed to grow closer only slowly.
None of this seemed to matter, as he still felt the panic of falling, of impending death, and no amount of focus could turn his mind off the matter. He cried out, screaming with fear.
"If you have time to scream, then you have time to spare," The zanpakutou said, floating alongside him. "Do you fear death? Shinigami rule over many things, death included."
"I'm not a shinigami right now!" Ichigo burst out, in between anger and sheer terror.
"That which Kuchiki Byakuya snuffed out from you was merely borrowed," the zanpakutou said firmly. "He thought that was the end of it. He was wrong. There is power of your own, merely awakened by Kuchiki Rukia's!"
He knew he had power, sure, but this wasn't helping.
"So how do I find it?" He cried out desperately.
"As this world collapses." The zanpakutou said. He stopped his descent, and out of nowhere, what looked like hundreds of white boxes started falling down alongside Ichigo, each one about the size of his head.
"In but one of these, your true power lies. Fail to find it, and we shall both be undone."
That was not very helpful. Pick one of these damnable things, just one, and get it right the first time? While plummeting to his death? How in the hell was he supposed to even get to one of them?
For a moment, he closed his eyes.
Think. Focus. This isn't the normal world. If it were, you'd be a wet stain already. Physics aren't really a thing. Try, or die.
Forcing himself to focus, he tried to move through the air through sheer force of will. It felt like a ridiculous notion, impossible... but to his surprise, as he imagined himself moving forward, extending his hands almost as if making a swimming stroke, his body obliged and moved through the air. He was still falling, sure, but he could move. The optimistic view was that this was noteworthy progress. The pessimistic one was that the harder part was still ahead of him, and it seemed impossible.
Choosing to think of neither, Ichigo simple focused, purposefully moving around the falling boxes, trying his damnedest not to look down.
Then suddenly, he hit the ground. It was sudden, harsh, but to his surprise he was very much conscious- and still falling. He appeared to be sinking through water, the boxes following near him en masse.
Okay, think. How do you spot shinigami power?
You spot it by sensing.
But he couldn't sense. He wasn't a shinigami. Then how?
His master's voice rung through his head, from one of the less-frequent theoretical lessons, which he had paid less attention to than perhaps he should have.
Every ensouled thing has a signature. Its spiritual parts have a colour. You can sense them from afar, as if though they were a ribbon. A normal plus is white. A hollow is black. And a shinigami...
A shinigami's signature was red! He remembered now, suddenly deeply grateful for his lessons. Quickly, he looked around. Suddenly, he could see them. String after string, ribbon after ribbon, one hanging out from each box. It was a sea of white, but somewhere in there, there was something red... he just had to find it.
Above him, he saw the zanpakutou- and the skyscrapers above him, evaporating at an alarming pace. He hadn't been joking when he said the world was crumbling. Quickly, Ichigo redoubled his efforts, and looked around. Just as he had begun to fear that it was too late, he saw it- a stripe of red in the sea of white. Urgently, even desperately, he forced himself toward it, extending a hand. An enormous sense of relief rushed through him, as he grabbed on to the red ribbon, and pulled at it. The box came open, its lid falling off, revealing the hilt of a sword. Ichigo stared at it with shock, surprise- and joy.
"What are you waiting for?" The zanpakutou demanded. "Seize it, before this world comes undone!"
Quickly, Ichigo reached for the hilt, and pulled the sword out. Smoothly, the blade followed suit, and immediately the world stopped- and changed. The crumbling ceased, but the skyscrapers appeared gone, replaced again by an indistinct whiteness.
The sword was long and broad, although not quite as unwieldy as it had once been, and it felt right in his hand.
"You have gained the powers of a shinigami, and we yet live." The zanpakutou said. "The next time... I hope you learn my name."
Staring with mixtures of awe, caution and concern, the entire group had stood still as Ichigo transformed. Even those with poorer spiritual perception, like Orihime, could feel his powers convulse and thrash, his body spasming and jerking around. Ichigo's eyes had rolled into his skull, and at times he looked downright possessed. Nearly half an hour had passed so far.
"Is- is he okay?" Masaki said worriedly. She had said the same perhaps two dozen times now, never getting the answer she really wanted.
"Watch and wait." Urahara said neutrally, his eyes fixed on Ichigo. "Or don't watch. Whichever suits you best."
"What about his body and soul?" Erza said. "Won't they be connected?"
"If- when- it succeeds," Urahara said, quick to correct himself, "his body and new form should split naturally. This is really just a more... prolonged version of what already happened with him and Rukia."
Further discussion was put on hold, as the violent flow of reiatsu finally reached a climax. It was clear to all with any depth of knowledge on the spiritual that what was flowing out was certainly not shinigami energy- at least not just shinigami energy. It was foul, darkened, like the taste of milk that had been left out just a little too long.
"What did you do to him?" Masaki demanded.
"Ssssh." Urahara said, staring with fascination. "And... here... it... comes." As if conducting some bizarre symphony, he moved his hands about in odd gestures.
As if on cue, Ichigo's body lay still as a shinigami burst out of it, fully fitted in the shihakusho, sword in hand. But all was not well. He was floating into the air, carried by the raw energy he had exuded around him, and most noticeably... his face.
A ghastly apparition was in the place where his face should be. Looking like some hologram, see-through just slightly and vibrating in and out of existence super-rapid, it looked like...
A hollow, Erza thought. Good heavens have mercy, he's turned into a hollow.
The creature let out a long, loud growl, sending chills down all of their spines- except Urahara, who looked at it as if entranced.
"Ichigo!" Masaki called out, and took a step forward.
"No!" Urahara said sharply, putting an arm in front of her, still not taking his eyes off Ichigo. "He has to do this on his own. Have faith."
It had been no more than half a minute, but the realization was already grating on Erza. Something had gone wrong. Very, very wrong. Something had-
Then, suddenly, Ichigo put his free hand to his face, and in an instant the mask-like apparition had disappeared. The energies stabilized, now emanating Ichigo's same old raw, still untempered spiritual pulse, carrying the flavour of a shinigami. Immediately, Masaki rushed to his side, taking him in her arms. Somewhat confusedly, as if just having woken up from a dream, he returned the hug and mumbled something.
"What did you do?" Erza hissed. "If I find out that you-"
"Used him as a guinea pig? In front of you where everyone could see it?" Urahara said dismissively. "You know this is not my doing. I've said it before... he is something else. He always has been. I am not the engineer of this event, only a humble bystander."
He was not trustworthy, Erza knew, but his logic was sound enough. Still undecided, she glared at the shopkeeper. Ignoring her, he called out loudly,
"Excellent, excellent!" He clapped his hands, like he had just seen a fantastic performance. "No need to be alarmed, ladies and gentlemen- that was a perfectly natural, if unusual side effect of the process!"
If the others disbelieved him like Erza did, they gave no sign, all eyes still on Ichigo.
Finally breaking free from his mother's desperately relieved grip, he stood up straight. There was no doubting it- he was, like Rukia, like Erza, a true shinigami in his own right.
"Uh," he said. "So that worked. When do we start?"
Erza smiled. "Right now."
Being in her own space with Yoruichi, Tatsuki stood ready to assume her stances. She was one of the few who felt nothing but excitement. The idea of entering the afterlife- the freaking afterlife!- was awe-inspiring in itself, but to do so to save somebody from an unjust death...
It would make for a hell of a story, if she survived it. And she'd be going in there, neck and neck with Ichigo... and the others, of course.
"Listen," Yoruichi said, putting a hand on Tatsuki's shoulder, "we're going to kick things up a notch. This will be harder than anything we've done so far- and more dangerous. Are you prepared for that?"
"As prepared as I'll ever be," Tatsuki said, trying and mostly failing to sound nonchalant. "Let's do this."
Without warning, Yoruichi launched a roundhouse kick. Tatsuki only half managed to block it, and went sliding.
"No mercy, huh?" She said, turning her tumble into a combat roll, holding her staff at the ready."
"None." Yoruichi said, a small grin on her face. "Mercy is for people with time to spare. Three weeks, Tatsuki- three weeks to get you as strong as you can be."
"I'll do it." Tatsuki said firmly.
"Good, 'cause," Yoruichi said, appearing behind Tatsuki's back in a flash, "I'll stop holding myself back a little."
A quick smack sent Tatsuki tumbling again, and she only barely got up to catch the next attack. This was going to be hard, all right...
Erza was just making ready to train Ichigo, having designated a spot for them to take things to the next level, when Orihime approached her. Erza had a creeping suspicious what the issue was- which would prove accurate soon enough, as it happened.
"Um, Erza?" She said.
She wanted to tell Orihime to stay back, to do her own training, that there was no time for this, but found she could say none of those things.
"Yes?" Erza said hesitantly. "What is it?"
"Can we... talk?" Erza felt that sinking feeling, and sighed. "Just for a few minutes, that's all." Orihime reassured her.
"Uh, sure," Erza mumbled. "Let's... let's talk, then."
"Well..." Orihime said, her voice trembling faintly. "Were you really going to leave me?"
"I..." Erza said, desperately trying to think of a good set of words to say. Orihime's innocent, slightly hurt tone of voice cut at her heart like a knife. "Uh, well, you see..."
"Were you going to leave? Answer, please." There was a hint of steel in her voice, and Erza almost regretted teaching her how to stand up for herself.
"I... yes." Erza said ruefully.
"Why?" Orihime said, hurt and confusion in her voice.
"It's... I'm not sure you'd understand."
"Try." Orihime said firmly. "I think I deserve to know. Since you were going to run off and basically just die without even saying goodbye, and all."
It was atypically harsh of her, but Erza couldn't fault her.
Helplessly, she looked down at her adoptive daughter. Finally, she took a deep breath, exhaled, and looked to the artificial sky.
"I... never told you where I came from, did I?" She all but mumbled the words.
"You're a shinigami." Orihime said. "You left them because of really good reasons. I don't know them, but it's you, so there had to be good reasons."
There was nothing but utter faith in her words, faith that Erza would have done the right thing, which only made it all worse.
"Before that," Erza said quietly. "When I was alive."
"Oh. That. No, I don't think you did. What does that matter?" She added the last part hastily, with a bit of irritation, to make sure Erza was not going off track.
"It does," Erza reassured her. "It's what made me... me, I guess."
"So... where did you come from, then?"
"Another world." Erza said bluntly. "I was not born on this earth. Maybe it's another planet far away, or maybe it was another universe altogether, but I was not born here. I was born in Earthland, in the Kingdom of Fiore." Seeing Orihime's mouth turn into a round O, temporarily distracted by awe- this did run right up her alley, now that she thought about it- Erza continued. "It was a lot like our Earth, except... well, we had magic, and humans weren't the only sentient species. It wasn't nearly as technologically advanced, either- more like, say, eighteenth century Europe, perhaps.
"I was... I did not have a happy childhood. I don't even remember my parents."
Emotions stirred within Erza, wounds long thought forgotten making themselves reminded.
"At a very young age, I was taken from my home and made a child slave. I and so, so many other children..."
Briefly she stopped, memories practically flashing in front of her eyes.
"We were made to work for a twisted ritual by an evil warlock. A friend helped me escape, but... he died in the process."
Jellal. Well, that was as good of an explanation as anything; that Jellal certainly was dead now.
"That's..." Orihime said, looking in between astonished and empathetic. "I had no idea..."
"I wandered away, with nothing but a dirty piece of cloth on my body. No shoes, no food... I was half dead when they finally found me."
"Who?" Orihime said, sounding enthralled.
"Fairy Tail." Erza said. "They took me in. They clothed and fed me. They gave me everything- a place to belong, work to do that meant something, a family... I was never a very rich person, not in terms of money, but I still had more than I had ever imagined in my wildest dreams. I went from being a poor child slave to being a powerful mage, strong enough to help and protect those weaker than me. When you go from having so little, to having so much... you learn how much it matters."
She looked Orihime in the eye.
"I'd die for you. I'd also die for Rukia. I'd die for anyone I consider a friend. I'd do anything to help, even if it seems impossible, or stupid, or downright foolish, because when you know what it means to have people to rely on, when you've never taken that for granted, when you've lost things, regained them and lost them again, you know why. I said you wouldn't understand- and I don't think you can. But that is it. That's why I'd charge right in even if it got me killed, because Rukia is my friend, and she does not deserve to die."
There was a strange look on Orihime's face.
"Look," Erza said, "I... I didn't want to have to do it that way, but I can't help it. I have to help. I just have to-"
Without another word, Orihime hugged her close, and after a somewhat awkward pause, Erza reciprocated.
"It's still not okay, you know that?" Orihime said quietly, still holding on. "It's still stupid and wrong of you to do that. But... I understand."
"Uh." Erza said, wishing she knew what to say next. "Um. Good?"
"Don't ever think of doing that again, okay?" Orihime said. It was odd, being scolded by her daughter, but all things considered this development was not the worst.
"I... can't promise that." Erza said, and hated that she was, at heart, honest.
"Then I'll stop you next time." Orihime said, firmly and without the slightest concern for small details as to just how she would achieve that. Erza smiled, and felt oddly proud. She was strong. She was good. Erza was not natural parent material, but she felt like she had succeeded with Orihime.
"Sooo..." Came the voice of Ichigo, standing a ways off. "I know you're having a moment, or something... but didn't you say we have no time to lose?"
"Just a minute." Erza said. "Just a minute..."
"Well," said Urahara, "Any questions before we begin?"
Orihime had quite a few actually, more than she could articulate. Everyone except she and Chad had their own mentors, and she felt a little like she was the chaff of the group. Before she could voice any of her concerns, Chad had politely raised his hand.
"Yes, the Mexican gentleman in the back?" Urahara said, cheerily pointing his fan at the bulky teenager.
"I trained with Ichigo up till now. Furthermore, Inoue and I have radically different abilities and strengths. How will you be able to train us both?"
"Through the most excellent multitasking you ever saw," Urahara said, no doubt being intentionally evasive.
"Um..." Orihime said meekly, her own hand raised, "I... don't really know where to start, actually. My powers are... not really like shinigami or quincy stuff."
"That's where you're half wrong!" Urahara said affirmatively. "They are indeed unique, but in their nature, they are similar to kido. It just so happens that I am well versed in the subject- and even moreso my associate Tessai, who will be joining us momentarily.
"Are you strong?" Chad said bluntly.
"Now there's a direct question," Urahara said amusedly.
"Are you?" Chad insisted. "You speak with confidence, and order and manipulate people of considerable strength, experience and skill. Can you match theirs? Will you even be as strong as Ichigo?"
"An honest question, I assume." Urahara said, and nodded. "You are not the type to throw insults, I believe."
Chad simply nodded.
"Then let's just say that I'm... sufficiently powerful. For your level, at least. And I have more than a few theories on that arm of yours- and how to make it bloom."
Chad nodded again. "That is all I wanted to know."
"So... what are we going to learn?" Orihime said.
"I'll be honest for once," Urahara said. "You'd have to train a lifetime to be ready, properly ready, for what awaits you. We do not have that time. So we will try to capitalize on your strengths, expand and build on them, and worry about a broader, more complete skill set afterward."
If we survive, Orihime thought. Not that the prospect of death scared her- like many other things, Orihime's view on that subject was distorted, odd, and inappropriately cheerful.
"We'll do our best, then." Orihime said. "For Rukia."
"For Ichigo." Chad said affirmatively.
"Excellent," Urahara said. "Now... right this way."
Some time later, after she was well and truly sure her little boy was all right, Masaki found herself alone with Uryu. They had picked a spot far away from the others, wholly secluded. Masaki had never been big on quincy traditions herself, but some part of her still felt it should be... a private affair.
"Well..." Uryu started, not sounding entirely sure of himself.
"Listen," Masaki said firmly, her voice markedly different from that of the kind, loving, slightly tired full-time mother she usually was; sharper and more focused, "you must realize the stakes, Uryu. I am saying that, because I'm still realizing them myself."
"Death." Uryu said stoically. "If we fail, we die."
Masaki shook her head.
"That's the easy answer."
"Then what?" Uryu asked.
"Death." Masaki said. "Not as in just dying, but leaving people behind. People who care for us. People we have a responsibility to come back to. You might think I've got a bigger importance there- but you've got people too, and that's why we're both going to do this together. To get better, so we'll make it out in one piece."
"People, eh?" Uryu mumbled. "I wonder..."
"Don't." Masaki said bluntly. "I'd miss you. So would your father. So would the others over there, too, even if you don't believe it. So what are the stakes?"
There was no arguing with that tone of voice, Uryu realized.
"Death. Leaving... my people behind."
Masaki nodded. "Your grandfather would be proud."
A strange look passed the young man's face, one of not often seen emotion. Giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder, she said,
"Did you bring what you needed?"
Wordlessly, Uryu produced a small wooden box. Inside was a single white glove, intricately crafted, and brimming with small strands of energy.
"Sanrei." She said, and nodded.
"But, aunt... what about you?" Uryu asked. The glove was a precious heirloom, one he had inherited from his grandfather and kept just for such an occasion as this, but with just one to go around, it was obvious to whom it should go. He was young, still, and with such short-term training ahead of them, Masaki was the one who would benefit more from it. It would capitalize on her considerable strength, and thus make the team as a whole stronger.
"Shouldn't you..."
Smiling, Masaki pulled out a wooden box of her own. Inside was another glove, just like Uryu's own.
"How...?" He said, his brows furrowing.
"I have my ways," Masaki said.
In the morning, they would begin training. Masaki's injuries had just barely healed, but she had something she needed to do. For Ichigo. For him, she had to be strong. To be strong, she had to rely on family. This particular piece of family was even harder to approach than Uryu- although he had always had a soft spot for her.
"It's rude to sneak into people's houses, you know," came Ryuken's voice as he walked in the door. He sounded irritated (when didn't he?), but Masaki knew him well enough to tell that it was fake. Irritation and casual indifference was a default state for him. Like father, like son, although neither would ever admit it.
"I've taken the liberty of making some coffee," Masaki said with mild cheer, ignoring his jab. She had waited in the kitchen. It was still night outside, and as usual, he came home late, often in the wee hours.
"What if I had mistook you for a burglar, hmm?" Ryuken said stubbornly, apparently intent on bickering some more. "What if I had shot you? Accidents do happen, you know."
"Then I'd die, content knowing that you'd never forgive yourself." Masaki said nonchalantly. It was a little forced; she was anything but calm and smooth at the moment, but it was passable. Or so she hoped.
"Cold." Ryuken said, grabbing a cup of coffee. He took a sip, and looked at her approvingly. "Hot."
"You should come over more often," Masaki said. "I'll bet you we've got better coffee than any machine in the hospital can make."
"What, and let those moron interns kill a dozen patients through sheer incompetence?" Ryuken said, rolling his eyes. He was committed to the Hippocratic oath, all right- he just wasn't very nice about it. "The place would fall apart without me."
"Yes, the whole world on your shoulders," Masaki said, rolling her eyes in turn. "I'm sure there weren't even hospitals before you came along, just monks bloodletting people in dirty felt tents."
Ryuken took another sip from his coffee, and gave her an inquisitive look.
"What do you want?" He said bluntly.
"You felt what happened to Uryu the other day, didn't you?" She said, her tone becoming serious.
"My idiot son nearly got himself killed, starting a fight he had no chance of winning because of 'honour', and suchlike nonsense." Ryuken said with distaste. Anybody else might have missed the slight tremor in his voice, the subtle concern that told her that he had indeed worried, had indeed cared...
"You might have visited." Masaki said.
"Who's to say I didn't?" Ryuken said, and for once, Masaki couldn't read him too well. Had he? "Regardless, that filthy scrounger candy-man patched him up, didn't he?"
"He did." Masaki said.
"More to the point..." Ryuken mumbled, putting a hand over his mouth, a surefire sign that he was trying to hide his feelings, "You got hurt. Badly. I was nearly about to walk out of surgery to come get the two of you when I sensed somebody else doing it for me. Just as well, I suppose."
"I was, yeah," Masaki conceded. "Nearly died." She took a deep breath, feeling the implications of her words. She had really been at death's doorstep. Only the pleading of that shinigami- of Rukia- had saved her. She had a good heart.
"There was no choice. You know there wasn't,"
"There always is," Ryuken said sharply, gesturing almost aggressively with his mug. He downed the rest of its contents in one large swallow, and went to refill it. "There always is. The choices of our young are out of our hands eventually. If they want to chase the rabbit and willingly enter madness, then that's their business, not ours."
"You don't believe that." Masaki said softly.
"Don't I?" Ryuken snapped, seeming to have lost grip of his cool. "Don't I?"
"You don't." Masaki said firmly. "It was my son. If I had died and he had lived, that would have been fine. I think you'd have done the same for Uryu."
Angrily, Ryuken all but slammed his mostly full mug down on the kitchen counter, spilling most of it. He swore, shaking the hot, black liquid from his hand.
"Let me tell you this, plainly and clearly, so there is no misunderstanding," he said, attempting- and rather failing- at seeming icily cold. "That world, the one our kids have chosen, is one of madness, danger and chaos. You know this as well as I do. But here you are, almost dying, and back on your feet through shinigami sorcery!"
"You sound like one of our clansmen." Masaki said, and almost regretted it. The insult would sting, but it wasn't untrue. Ryuken had done his damnedest to leave the quincies behind, but the upbringing, his harshness and anger and resentment, it was still there.
He gave her an angry look.
"If it were anyone else, I'd tell you to get out. No- I'd flat out shoot you."
"You actually use a bow?" She said innocently.
"Whatever," he grumbled angrily.
"Listen," Masaki said, "I am leaving for the soul society. With Ichigo. Along with a few others. We're going to walk right into the lion's den."
Ryuken jerked, standing stiff and still.
"You cannot be serious!" He snapped. "What the devil for?"
"Because he's going, and so am I." She said simply.
"Make him stop, then!" Ryuken snapped. "Ground him! Shoot him in the legs, if you have to! What sort of mother would allow that kind of danger to come to their children?"
"Shooting him in the leg is better?" Masaki said, her tone quietly bemused.
"For the greater good," Ryuken said dismissively. "Honestly, Masaki..."
"I'm going." She said firmly. "Isshin would come too, if he had the power. I'm not going to ask you to come along-"
"You're damn right you wouldn't."
"-but I am going to ask for something from you."
"What, medical advice?" Ryuken scoffed. "The anatomy of a shinigami is monstrous and quite beyond me, so I won't be of much help there."
"You still have uncle's chest, don't you?" Masaki said.
"Threw it out years ago. Burned it." Ryuken said, much too quickly and much too smoothly.
"So it's not gathering dust in the attic, under a pile of moth-eaten rugs, then?" Masaki said.
"Nosy, damnable..." Ryuken muttered. "What about it? I know my fool son already pillaged some of it in his naive quest for glory and whatnot, so what could you want from it?"
"A sanrei glove." Masaki said. "I need to re-learn everything. That glove is exactly what I need."
Giving her the oddest glare, Ryuken said,
"Masaki, you hated the quincies. You were good at the arts, but you never even liked them."
"I don't like them." Masaki said plainly. "They're dangerous, hard to use, and they're designed to hurt people."
Ryuken, for the first time, looked legitimately baffled.
"Then... we agree? Then you know that-"
"I'm doing it because I have to." Masaki said firmly. "I have to protect my son. I have a way of doing that. If I'm ready to die for him, don't you think I'm ready to take up the arts?"
Ryuken fumbled with the coffee pot, glaring at her as if trying to come up with a reply.
"Fine," he snarled. "I give up. There's no reasoning with you people. Madness, going into a lion's den, taking up the arts..." He grumbled and muttered, sounding furious.
"You're at least three decades too young to sound like a grumpy old man, you know," Masaki said, a small, triumphant smile on her face.
"Well, you know where to find it," Ryuken said. "I protest, but nobody ever listens to the voice of reason, do they?"
"I knew I could count on you," Masaki said. "Thanks, Ryuken."
The heartfelt gratification in her voice seemed to melt the anger right off him, and as she turned around, she felt his hand grabbing her shoulder, gently but firmly.
"Don't- don't die." He said blankly, having lost his irritable eloquence. "Masaki, don't die. You hear me?"
"I don't intend to," Masaki said. "I came close enough once. I'm going to come back in one piece. So will Ichigo."
"Fuck it all..." Ryuken murmured, sounding frustrated. He looked like he had something to say, something important, yet no clue how to say it. "Just... go and get it, all right? I need to get some sleep, anyhow."
Masaki turned toward the staircase leading to the attic. Just before she took the first step up, she stopped, and called out to him, already having turned and started walking away.
"Ryuken!"
Immediately, he turned around, and looked at her. Though he had grown older, she saw the same young man that had grown up with her in that old house, always by her side, always there...
"I'm going to come back," she said, "and when I do, you're coming to dinner at our place. No excuses."
There was a flash of relief on his face, almost something like a smile, then he grumbled something inaudible and turned away. Masaki smiled in the dark, as she made her way up. It was good, catching up.
"...so he just gave it to you?" Uryu said incredulously. "The cheap old man wouldn't even give me allowance when I was growing up."
"He has a soft spot for me, your father," Masaki said. "He really isn't as bad as you think."
"Yeah, yeah..." Uryu grumbled, and Masaki smiled. They really were quite alike.
"The glove." Uryu said, clearly eager to change the subject.
"Yes, right." Masaki said. "Do you know how it works?"
"What grandfather told me... you put it on, and it makes all forms of reiatsu manipulation that much more difficult. It requires a minimum of one-week intensive training to master. If successful, one's grasp of manipulation becomes much stronger- it does nothing to amplify your power, but everything to strengthen what you already have. And if you take it off... you gain a temporary surge in power, but lose your powers altogether. Forever."
"Almost," Masaki said, casually sliding her glove onto her bow hand. "It's not actually permanent. Not if you're careful. Still, I wouldn't recommend taking it off unless you absolutely have to." There was a look of surprise on her face, as the effect of the glove became apparent to her. "Son of a b-beesting, frick," she mumbled. "This really does make a mess of things."
Uryu hesitated a second, then firmly slid his glove on. Instantly, all his control seemed to dissipate, the strands of reiatsu that were normally so simple to grasp begun to slip away. It felt like somebody had put a yoke on his shoulders, and now he had to learn to move with it on.
"Well," Masaki said, forcing a smile, "let's get started, shall we?"
So... GKR speaking. Again. I think this makes three chapters in one month, which is a new personal best. We've just got one more chapter to go, and then we get to the actual soul society. How far we've come, eh?
So, a few words on the chapter's contents:
That cliffhanger we left on last time? Totally my idea. Blame me for that one. I loved it, though.
Ichigo's transformation. I know a lot of people who take the series seriously (HAH) will think this one's important, and it is... sort of. Ichigo is still not the protagonist, Erza is. We're going slightly different on this one, in no small part because of the advantage of hindsight- in canon, Ichigo received his hollow then and there, and then it was later retconned by Kubo. We've had it so that Ichigo's had his hollow since well before he was a shinigami- since birth, actually, meaning that the transformation part goes a bit differently. That, and we don't want to just retell the stuff you already know.
Ichigo's power level. Anyone who's read A Grim Tale of Reapers will know I despise overpowered protagonists, and I like my Ichigos good and nerfed. Vogo does not. So we've reached an agreement: Ichigo will become as powerful as in canon- up to a certain point. Hueco Mundo, to be specific. Right now, Ichigo is more powerful than he was in canon at this point, by virtue of better training- but he's going to hit a ceiling at some point, and he's not going to be this end-all solution he was in canon.
Ryuken and Masaki. Expanding on minor characters is one of the best parts of fan fiction, because it leaves a lot of room for creativity. Make what you will of the scene I wrote- my interpretation of our Ryuken is that he's a lot nicer than he lets on, but doesn't know how to show it. He loves Masaki, quite a bit, possibly in a non-platonic way- but he'd never act on it. Perhaps I'll give him more to do in the future. We'll see.
And yeah, that's about it. Look forward to one more chapter wrapping things up, possibly a bit on the shorter side... and then, we take off.