(Day 15)
Warm water embraced Ichigo's body from toe to chin, soothing the aches in his muscles he had no memory of obtaining. Steam rose from the water's surface, clouding the large bathroom with a vast mist that contained a faint scent of bamboo and sandalwood. Taking a deep breath, Ichigo sunk a little further into the water. When his nose dipped beneath the surface, he slowly released the air he was holding, drawing childish entertainment from the bubbles he created.
The moment Isane had discharged him, Ichigo had eager to get home as fast as possible. The whole way, he had been trying to sneak a few paces of Hirenkyaku in to speed up the hour-long walk. His sister wasn't having any of it, yanking him back by the collar every time and scolding him.
"You just got discharged after being hospitalized for nearly two weeks! Do you want to go back and stay longer?"
"That's why I'm using hirenkyaku, Karin".
"I don't care if you're using one of your fancy Quincy techniques. You are to take it easy, captain's orders".
"Taking it easy is walking for two hours?"
And that's how Ichigo found himself thrown over Karin's shoulder and carried. Had it been embarrassing? Yes. Had he deserved it? Probably. Did it cause nausea? Definitely. Fortunately, Karin had taken his warning seriously and put him down before his lunch could come up.
The moment they had arrived back home, Ichigo had made a dash for the bathroom. Karin had called out after him, telling him he had to eat first but Ichigo ignored her. He was dirty and he wasn't doing anything until he was clean again—Zangetsu, too.
He had been in the Fourth for fifteen days-according to Isane. That's over two weeks without a proper bath. Of course, he had been provided with a clean yukata every day and the worst had been washed off with a hand cloth. But that could only get you so far.
Ichigo took his time. Washing both body and hair twice and soaking in the water until his skin had pruned. It was like a weight was lifted off him, energising his recovering soul with the power of hygiene.
Drying off and wrapping a spare yukata around himself, Ichigo took Zangetsu from where he had laid them down and headed out.
'You need to eat, Ichi-nii!' Karin yelled at him the second he had opened the door. Ichigo was surprised, he hadn't expected her to wait outside.
'Karin, relax. I ate before we left, remember?' Ichigo said, closing the door behind him. 'I'll eat at dinner'.
'That's five hours away and Captain Kotetsu said you had to eat regularly'.
'Then I'll eat something at three', Ichigo offered. 'Sides, I'm not hungry, yet. I'm still full of that broth they gave me'.
Karin looked like she wanted to argue but held her tongue.
Hooking his zanpakutō to the obi of his yukata, Ichigo made his hands free. He placed them on his sister's shoulders, giving them a light squeeze.
'I'm fine, Karin. Really. Captain Kotetsu gave me the all-clear. That bug I had is gone'.
Karin shifted, eyes straying down. Odd.
'I promise I'll eat at three, alright? If you don't see me in the kitchen you can drag me from my room, okay?'
'Okay'.
Giving his sister a hug, Ichigo was pleased Karin returned it. He had put her worries to rest for now.
'Now, I owe Zangetsu a good cleaning for all the worry I caused them', Ichigo said, giving his sister's ponytail a flick.
Karin tightened her hold briefly before letting go and slapping away her brother's hand. 'Don't do that', she mumbled. 'You know I don't like it'.
'I know'. Ichigo unhooked his zanpakutō from his obi-as it had been pulling it undone-and gave his sister one last pat on the shoulder. 'I'll be in my room if you need me'.
Parting ways with his sister, Ichigo traversed the hallways to his room. Once inside, he locked the door behind him. He needed some privacy to get dressed in some proper clothes, after all.
Sweatpants and his favourite oversized t-shirt. Nothing was more comfortable than clothes that were just a tad too big. He would fight everyone who disagreed.
Now he was clean, comfortable and warm, Ichigo set to spoil his Zanpakutō. Dropping to his knees, he reached under his bed to retrieve the chest in which he kept his maintenance equipment. He went through the motions, putting everything into place.
With a satisfied hum, Ichigo settled on the cushion he had prepared. He reached back and took Zan's blade, removing it from the sheath. The metal still shone brightly even after the two weeks of disuse. There was no need to clean.
Ichigo did it anyway.
As he cleaned, he noticed Zan was less responsive. Ichigo usually sensed appreciation whenever he decided to spoil his Zanpakutō. Now, he got not much more than a faint sense of acknowledgement.
Strange.
Still, Ichigo finished cleaning the blade. Taking a moment to bathe in the fruits of his labour, to admire the beauty of his weapon. He made sure Zan was aware of the pride Ichigo felt towards him.
Sheathing the weapon, Ichigo went to the other half of the pair and began the process all over again.
Where Zan had given at least some feedback, Getsu was completely unresponsive. No matter how much pride, love and care he put into his cleaning, the Hollow Zanpakutō stayed eerily quiet.
For how strange it was for Zan to respond so distant, it was downright worrying Getsu did not respond at all. Even as Ichigo gave the sword a final wipe down, he hadn't heard so much as a huff from the always loud spirit.
Sheathing the blade, he grabbed the other as well and laid them on his knees. Something was wrong with his Zanpakutō and Ichigo was going to find out what it was and fix it.
His mindscape frisk, a few darker clouds spread in the sky. Ichigo ignored it, heading off to find his spirits.
'Zangetsu!'
His voice travelled over the green roof, bouncing off against the canopy and getting lost in the sky. To his dismay, there was no answer.
He pushed on. Letting his feet bring him to where his spirits were. He knew they were together, at least.
Their signatures led him to one of the few skyscrapers that were scattered throughout the mindscape. One which Ichigo recognised as the one Zan had claimed for himself.
One of the windows on the top floor was open, signalling Ichigo the location of his spirits as well as granting him permission to enter. With a gentle hirenkyaku, Ichigo landed on the windowsill, hands on either side of the frame to keep himself balanced.
The room the window led to was more spacious than Ichigo had anticipated, the size nearly double that of his own room at the Shiba Estate. The wall to the left was a muted, dark blue, partially hidden behind a pair of large, pinewood bookcases that reach all the way up the ceiling. Each plank was filled with big tomes and thick books, containing both stories of the fictional and non-fiction variety.
As he let his eyes slide to the other side of the room, Ichigo spotted one half of his Zanpakutō. Seated on a chaise longue with his hair done up in a messy bun, was Zan. The spirit didn't wear his coat or boots, making Ichigo suspect this was his actual place of residence in the Mindscape. The orange sunglasses had been replaced by simple reading glasses—wait, those glasses were legitimate?—which were required to read the print in the thick tome the man held in his hands.
Zan briefly glanced over his page and flicked his eyes to the side, guiding Ichigo's gaze to the bed. It was a rather modern-looking, Western-style bed. Large, too. Ichigo guessed it was king-size but he wasn't sure. The sheets were a subtle, shiny grey that screamed "expensive". One side of the bed was made, the other side was occupied. By whom was no mystery.
Ichigo slipped down from the sill and into the room, his sock-clad feet silent on the hardwood floor. He reached out to his spirits with his pressure as he closed the window behind him, keeping an eye on both through their reflection in the glass.
Zan didn't respond physically to his pressure, his attention was placed in the story the words in his book created. Still, he did acknowledge him by intertwining their signatures. An action done so often he did not have to be conscious of it to do it.
Getsu on the other hand…
His pressure was wrapped tightly around his body, uneven and rugged. When Ichigo's pressure brushed against his, it lashed out weakly, like an adult smacking away the hand of a child. It didn't embrace him, didn't intertwine or play around with his like it had for decades.
Ichigo abandoned the window, leaving it unlocked as he went over to the bed. He knelt down at its occupied side, taking a look at the sleeping half of his Zanpakutō.
Getsu was fast asleep, breathing even but hampered as if he couldn't breathe in properly. There was a noticeable blueish tint colouring his face which swallowed the light dusting of freckles the spirit had. Deep and dark rings beneath the closed eyes made the white skin look ghastly.
'What's wrong with him?' Ichigo asked.
'Exhaustion'.
Ichigo looked at Zan—who hadn't looked up from his page and ignored the gaze aimed at him. When the spirit refused to elaborate, a scowl settled on Ichigo's face, born from both ire and confusion.
Something was up.
Turning his attention back to the spirit before him, Ichigo felt his forehead with the back of his hand. It was warm and damp, solidifying the suspicion Getsu was under the weather. From what, Ichigo had no idea. It wasn't like Zanpakutõ could catch a bug.
A few stray hairs were sticking to Getsu's face and Ichigo moved them back, taking the opportunity to go through the spirit's mess of hair to untangle it a bit. As he did so, something on Getsu's cheek reflected light. Ichigo frowned and gently angled the face by the chin.
Multiple thin lines decorated Getsu's face. Ichigo followed them, tracing a line from closed lids down to the spirit's jaw.
Outside, the wind picked up. The fluffy white clouds turned black on a dime, growing in size to obscure the sky. In the distance, the rolling of thunder could be heard.
'Zan...' Ichigo didn't look up when he addressed the other spirit, his eyes glued to the lines on blue flushed cheeks. '... what happened?'
'He has stayed at your side during your recovery without—' The rest of the sentence was lost, phantom blades pressing against Zan's throat in warning. Ichigo's pressure flooded the room soon after, weighing down on the spirit's body like hundreds of weighted blankets. Zan closed his eyes, letting the air still in his lungs pass his dry lips in a deep sigh. It had been worth a try. He let his irises sway to the corners of his eyes, meeting the bright gold ones of his wielder. 'You will not like the answer'.
'No fucking shit', Ichigo hissed, his voice as low as it was filled with venom. He rose to his feet and into his first stride in one fluid motion. 'Someone has done something that they are going to regret and I want to know who'.
'I do not know all the details—'
'I don't need all the goddamn details', Ichigo cut off. 'Tell me-in three sentences or less-what you know!' He threw his right arm back, blindly pointing at the sleeping spirit while staring down the other. 'What the fuck happened that made him cry?!'
Zan held his wielder's stare, closing his book and placing it aside. Ichigo was trembling. The muscles in his shoulders were tense, brows knitted together tight and drawn low. Ichigo's fingers twitched, slowly curling into fists the longer it took for Zan to reply.
It was rare for Ichigo to get genuinely furious. Angry and upset? Sure, who doesn't? But actually livid to the point of wanting retribution? Even Aizen hadn't managed that. Not until Getsu told him about his "previous life", anyway.
He had been this upset before, Zan remembered it well. The sight of his sister emerging from the lava pool in Hell, being reborn a Sinner, had been too much for him to handle. He had hollowfied on the spot.
Something Ichigo was barely able to keep from happening now.
There was no lie Zan could spin that would ease the fury of his wielder. So the truth it would be that he would speak.
'Two weeks ago, you fainted due to a lack of energy', Zan began. 'When you were brought to the Fourth, Getsu took over and injured someone. Because of this, the Gotei Thirteen have discussed whether or not to purify you'.
At once, the tension in Ichigo's shoulders vanished. The thick pressure watered down as the first raindrops hit the windows. Thunder rolled over their heads, shaking the windows in the sill. Ichigo tried to work his jaw, mouth opening and closing. A white substance trailed up from under his shirt, creeping along his throat to his wavering jaw.
'E-Excuse me'.
It was said in a whisper, drowned by the loud crash of rubble and glass as Ichigo shunpo-ed through the wall in his haste to get away.
Zan shook his head and put up a barrier to protect them from the wind and rain that was sure to get only worse. Taking the book, Zan relocated to the bed and placed the tome on the nightstand before taking a look at his counterpart.
A deep thrum hit the building, cracking some windows. The backlash of a sonído.
Three. Two. One–
Their core flared, their energies surging as Ichigo unleashed his rage. The spirit's perspective shifted as his physique changed, strands of brown falling before his eyes as they were no longer the length required to be kept up by the elastic.
With a short huff, Tensa blew the tresses from his eyes, moving them behind an ear with his left hand. He sat down on the bed, needing to push off against the ground to reach it now he was in bankai. Something he knew his counterpart would have taken pleasure in pointing out to him.
But Getsu wasn't awake. Even hollowfication had failed to rouse the spirit from his slumber. His chest—which now had a large hole in it from which black lines spread out over his body—continued to rise and fall in the same slow and steady rhythm as it had for the past few days.
And as it would for the foreseeable future.
It was for the best. Getsu needed, and deserved, the rest he had deprived himself of. Else he would have woken when his heart liquefied. If he were awake now, he would only suffer alongside their wielder as Ichigo lost himself in his rage.
Scooting closer to his counterpart, Tensa leaned over. His fingers hooked under the edge of the mask and gave an experimental push. It gave way. Taking a gentle but firm hold on the chin, Tensa lifted the mask from Getsu's face. The expression on his countenance was unchanged, the only change being the black lines that mimicked the ones on his mask—obscuring the light dusting of freckles.
Tensa didn't like it.
Still, he swiped the cheek of the mask with his thumb before placing it on the nightstand. That tended to, Tensa moved on to Getsu himself. There were some shorter hairs sticking to the sweat-covered forehead that Tensa gently brushed away. He then pulled the duvet a bit higher to cover Getsu's shoulders more proper and then decided another one couldn't hurt.
Getsu had never dealt well with colder temperatures—something he blamed on his Hollow form being reptilian. At the first sign of bad weather he would put on his overcoat, a chill breeze and he wrapped it as tight as he could around himself. Either that, or he would try and provoke Zan into a spar to warm up.
Finding a thick quilt in his linen closet, Tensa went back to the bed and spread it out over the sleeping spirit. He continued to fuss for a few more minutes, making sure Getsu was as comfortable as he could be. There wasn't much else he could do, not much more than looking after his counterpart and reading. And with the first one tended to, Tensa picked up his book again.
Outside, lightning lit up the pitch-black clouds in erratic patterns. Thunder rolled throughout the sky, hitting the windows in waves. If any shattered, the veil of rain would both obscure it and absorb the noise.
Even during the Winter War, the weather hadn't been this bad.
Tuning out the sound of his wielder's broken heart, Tensa focussed on the words printed on the page. The tome contained a collection of stories about a military doctor who, after his return to his homeland, ends up sharing housing with a perceptive—but eccentric-police consultant. It was a work of fiction, which wasn't his preferred genre but it was entertaining enough that Tensa was willing to read it to its end.
Tensa was at page eight-hundred-and-forty-nine when the cacophony outside went silent. He looked up and outside through the large hole Ichigo had created in his haste to get as far away as possible. The water level had risen, reaching a quarter up the floor they were on.
It wouldn't be long before the world would completely submerge once more.
The scene outside was a picture. Raindrops floating in mid-air. Water surface flat like a mirror. A moment of quiet but not of peace. Streaks of electricity were snaking through the clouds, coiling, awaiting their chance to strike.
Seeing this, Tensa put a bookmarker between the pages and put the tome aside. Hands now free, he covered his ears.
Just in time, too. Dozen bolts of lightning crashed down on the world. The wind returned full force and hail came down like a solid wall. Even inside the room, with the barrier to muffle the noise, the sound was near deafening.
The spiritual pressure shifted and Tensa fell out of Bankai. Getsu's hollowfication broke apart, the mask crumbling to dust.
There was a tug on his core. Zan automatically held on to Getsu as their forms broke down to energy. Ichigo pulled them from the flooding world, materialising them by his side.
Zan found himself in his wielder's room at the Shiba Estate. The curtains were drawn and the doors were locked, a shimmering of gold betraying the use of a bakudō to keep people out and energy in.
Ichigo sat by his bed, back leaning against the frame. Dense wisps of spiritual pressure swirled around him which lashed out whenever his anger flared up.
Their blades lay to his side, freeing him to pull one knee to his chest. His face was hidden behind his hand, the other fisted in the excess fabric of his clothes.
It had been decades since Zan had witnessed his wielder so upset. So broken and frustrated.
Sparing a moment to make sure Getsu was still deep asleep and comfortable, Zan then rose to his feet. He walked over to Ichigo and knelt by his side.
'You are allowed to cry freely', Zan told, voice soft yet strong enough to reach his wielder's ears over the sound of his aching heart. Calloused fingers found their way under an unshaven chin and lifted it up. Ichigo did not resist, his hand fell away from his face as his head was tilted back.
'But I can't-' His chest constricted, forcing a sudden intake of air he couldn't control. Ichigo shook his head, trying to get the words out. 'I can't- I-I promised you-' He choked on his words again.
'-to prioritise your happiness', Zan interjected. 'And you have upheld your promise, for we have seen many beautiful days since'.
Tears continued to escape the weak restraint Ichigo had over them, rolling down his face and on Zan's hand. The spirit didn't wipe them away.
'But those days are only as beautiful as the storms that have preceded them', Zan told. 'Do not worry about us, we are here. You can let go'.
Ichigo didn't need more encouragement. He let his zanpakutō pull him into an embrace. His hands fisted the fabric of the man's dress shirt, pressing his face into Zan's chest to muffle the sounds of his erratic breathing.
Zan stayed silent. Soul Society had broken the one thing Ichigo valued more than anything in the world: trust. It didn't matter it was already strained to begin with. He had expected them to betray him in his face, to stab him in the back. But no, they had waited for him to be blind before striking from all sides.
The shivers, shudders and spasms gradually lessened. Ichigo leaned more into his spirit, chest rising irregularly as he calmed down. He hummed as fingers carded through his hair.
It seemed that, just like his look-a-like, Ichigo found the gesture soothing.
His wielder mumbled something under his breath and into his chest. Zan hummed disapprovingly and Ichigo shifted.
'I-I can't stay here', Ichigo repeated softly, voice thick and uneven. 'I can't but I- but I don't know-'
'Then we will figure it out', Zan interrupted gently. 'But not now'.
Ichigo hummed and reluctantly settled down, too tired and upset to argue. 'F-fine...' He shifted against his spirit, catching a brief glimpse of their counterpart.
'He is alright', Zan assured. 'He will wake in due time'.
'It has been nearly a week, Zan', Ichigo complained. 'It has never taken him that long to recover'.
'Do you not wish for him to get the rest he needs?'
'No, of course, I do!' Ichigo objected, wiping his face with his palm. 'I just don't want it to take so long...it's quiet'.
Zan agreed.
A soft, rumbling sound had Ichigo groan in annoyance.
'You need to eat'.
Ichigo wanted to argue. Say he didn't have an appetite when he remembered that was what had brought him so close to actually dying a second time.
'Alright'. Reluctantly, Ichigo removed himself from the safety of Zan's embrace. He looked past the spirit, eying Getsu who had not moved since their materialisation. 'Can you stay?'
'Not without hindering your recovery'.
Ichigo glanced past Zan, nursing his bottom lip in debate. '... How much hinder are we talking about?'
'We will be fine, Ichigo. We may hate it but it doesn't hurt us', Zan told. 'Focus on your recovery'.
Ichigo scowled. '... Alright. I'll be down later, then', he relented. 'But if he wakes, tell me, okay?'
'I will'.
Somewhat assured, Ichigo ended the manifestation. Once he was alone again, he rose to his feet. First thing first, he needed to eat.
#
END
BLEACH - Tite Kubo
#
Well then, my guy, gal, and non-binary pal readers, this marks the end of The Final Straw; my biggest work that I've ever finished, counting a little over 50,000 words. Did you enjoy it? Any things that I can improve on? Was my uploading schedule alright? What was your favourite chapter and/or moment? Did you get the stupid pay-off in chapter 16 that I set up in The Meaning of Being King – Chapter 2? Please, I would love to read your thoughts/opinion/suggestions/questions in the comments/PM.
A few years ago, I never thought I would finish any of my many stories that are taking up storage space on my PC and phone. Now, I have finished fourteen and uploaded thirteen.
I have still a few stories that I want to write. About how Karin lost her human life and how Ichigo's came to an end, the Muramasa affair, and Zan's struggle with coming to terms with his identity as a Zanpakutō and not a pure Quincy. These are difficult ones for me to write but because I already finished so many, I think I might be able to pull it off.
Anyway, I still have one new story lined up consisting of two chapters that I will upload soon. After that, you guys will have to wait until I finish something again.
