As he moved from the long-empty meeting hall, Ichigo felt like a passenger in his body. He didn't know where he was going until he found himself in the training grounds beneath Sokyokyu hill. The certainty that this was a ruse suddenly sparked and exploded into incandescent rage. An inarticulate scream tore from his lips as an explosion of spiritual pressure erupted from his very soul.
The pressure alone pulverized the rock near him as a storm of reiatsu blanketed the area in a blue haze. Ichigo subconsciously materialized Zangetsu, already wielding his Shikai form, and attacked the spirit without hesitation or warning. Fury ruled his mind, his body a puppet, swinging his sword with the elegance of a two-by-four and the skill of a clumsy novice.
Zangetsu sighed as his wielder seemed to shun everything he had learned of combat and struck with strength and ability rooted in mindless anger and not his hard-earned experience. He should have expected that Ichigo would have trouble with the recent revelations, and on the whole, this reaction was undoubtedly preferable to torrential rain in the inner world. He leisurely ducked below a well-telegraphed and poorly executed swing, continuing to ignore the numerous openings Ichigo presented in favor of letting his wielder vent his fury. After he parried another vicious thrust, he idly noted that Ichigo's ire finally started to fade to the point that he was beginning to direct his spiritual energy.
Small steps, then. First, he would need Ichigo's attention, and nothing spoke to Ichigo as clearly as the clash of blades and the violence of battle.
He made his first attack, intentionally allowing his wielder to see the tension in his arms and legs as twisted and slashed, aimed at Ichigo's right shoulder. Thankfully he did not need to pull the strike as Ichigo instantly stepped back and allowed the strike to pass harmlessly. Now, they were getting somewhere.
Before the fight had been akin to Ichigo attacking a particularly evasive training pole as if he had never seen a sword, the attack seemed to remind him that he was not, in fact, a novice. The visible indicators of his intent, his eyes, stance, and tension, evaporated like water in the Sahara as Ichigo proved to his sword that his skill was, at the least, fully intact. Where before a teenager vented his rage by swinging a cleaver, now master and blade stood as one being, each an extension of the other. Control and precision replaced wild roundhouse swings.
'It's about time.'
Zangetsu eagerly joined, each responding to the twist of the other's limb as if in a choreographed display. Ichigo thrust forward, deflecting a rising slash from Zangetsu, and so the Zanpakto pivoted and allowed his sword form to breeze by his closed jacket. Zangetsu brought the aborted slice back down onto Ichigo's guard, quickly erected after the dodged thrust. As Ichigo twisted his block into a massive overhead chop, Zangetsu spun with his sword's momentum and brought the tip of his heavy blade to his wielder's heaving throat.
Zangetsu allowed a rare smile to rise to his face. "You are getting better, Ichigo, even in your rage."
Ichigo grunted in response, seemingly net yet up to conversation. That was fine by Zangetsu, He and Ichigo communicated more clashing steel than the spoken word, and both were fine with this dynamic. Zangetsu allowed his resolve and determination to advance to fill his blade, steadily controlling the fight to cut Ichigo off from any meaningful attack. He continued making probing strikes, each forcing Ichigo into a more desperate deflection. His approach was methodical and vicious, making no mistakes and steadily compelling Ichigo into increasingly desperate gambles. Each despairing attack was met with ready steel or avoided entirely, while Zangetsu deliberately retaliated with minor damage.
In turn, Ichigo's blade screamed of anger above all else, but below his simmering rage lay the desolation of loss. Ichigo had stopped venting his wrath, but his attacks were incautious and uncalculated. Risky, without offering sufficient reward.
Thankfully, Ichigo seemed to accept that he had passed on the mortal world. Zangetsu protected Ichigo, as Ichigo protected his family and friends. Each had their role to play, and overwhelming power would be an asset regardless of the battlefield.
Zangetsu wondered if Ichigo's emotional vulnerability might cause issues in the future and could only conclude that he would have to observe Ichigo and make sure the new shinigami did not give in to such base instincts. They had done much, and it would be folly to lose that progress at the first obstacle they could not charge through.
In time, Ichigo tired. His tempestuous rage cooled into a more sedate ire. He spent his emotions and exhausted his body. The time of blades had served its mission, but it was not yet time to confront his wielder. Carefully then, but ever forward. Ichigo needed a reminder of what he had gained for what he had lost.
"Ichigo, I know you are upset, but you are injured, and it seems your wounds from the fight with Byakyua Kuchiki and Sosuke Aizen have reopened. Go, use the healing spring, and ponder this: You are a shinigami in truth, and that is the only reason we were able to succeed in your rescue mission. It is because we are dead that we are increasingly able to effect change by our power."
Ichigo nodded in agreement, thankful he did not yet need to speak of his turbulent emotions and made his way to the hot springs he had last used in what felt like a lifetime ago. He sighed as the hot water stung slightly on his open wounds before blissful relief washed over him, and he finally relaxed.
###
Ichigo did not realize he was falling asleep until the splash of someone entering the spring woke him up. He took a moment to yawn and stretch before turning to his bathing companion.
"Yoruichi, I should have realized it was you"
Yoruichi smirked, and pretended not to notice Ichigo's glance, as she bonelessly leaned against the edge of the spring.
"I would think that by now you'd be used to me, ehh Ichigo?"
Ichigo pretended he was not blushing, shaking his head as he turned his thoughts back to the revelations from the captain's meeting. He appreciated the attempt to distract him from his melancholy thoughts, but right now, he needed answers.
"Yoruichi, please…" Ichigo took a deep breath as if stealing himself. "When Rukia gave me her powers, did she condemn me to die?"
The werecat could not help but sigh; she had hoped Ichigo was already aware of the nature of Rukia's 'gift,' but that would, of course, be too easy. She wordlessly activated the kido that stored her clothing in cat form. Ichigo needed a friend to confide in; now was not the time to distract him.
"First, you've got to understand that within soul society, the death of a mortal is no great tragedy." She cut off Ichigo's retort with a look. "To die is to pass your soul onto the next step of the great cycle. Perhaps the lack of need in soul society leaves us detached from mortal concerns like wealth and avoiding death. But, regardless of the why, to most pure souls, a mortal dying in two years is hardly different than a mortal dying in twenty. You are robbing them of time in this step of the cycle, but so long as the soul is undamaged, there is no lasting harm."
Ichigo made an indignant sound, "So what, did Rukia just throw my life away because there's always next time?"
Yoruichi could only sigh, "She gave you the power to protect your family, Ichigo. Even if she knew and you understood the cost, Is that not something you would give your life for, and gladly? Besides, while the academy covers the nature and legality of the transfer of power ritual, the side effects and reasons it was outlawed are not well known. She could've, and probably, learned of the ritual without hearing of its dangers."
Ichigo weighed her words and found relief in the possibility that Rukia did not indirectly try to kill him. Somehow he was, not enthusiastic, but accepting, of dying by her hands in an attempt to save his family. Compared to maliciousness on her part, an accident of misunderstanding was infinitely preferable. He had not realized how heavy that betrayal weighed on him until he learned it might have been unintentional. Still, he would need to talk to Rukia; she was a friend, Nakama, and he would not lose her to a communication breakdown.
Both shinigami seemed content to let the silence linger, less tinged by anger as Ichigo assimilated the new information.
"Does that mean I could somehow give you my powers so I wouldn't have to leave my family?"
If Zangetsu's curse wasn't enough of a response, Yoruichi's stricken countenance answered to Ichigo's desperation.
Ichigo felt that the dam had burst, the grief suddenly so acute he couldn't hold it in.
"Karin and Yuzu haven't graduated from middle school yet. You know Karin is going to join a club soccer team. She made me promise to help her practice. It's embarrassing to get outplayed by my little sister, but she never asks for anything, ya know, so how could I say 'no' the one time she does? And Yuzu wanted to start learning more about the clinic. She doesn't know that I know it, but she's thinking about becoming a doctor. She always was the most caring of all of us, always helping out around the house. She reminds me so much of Mom it hurts sometimes. And she didn't get any of that from dad. And Dad, dad tries so hard to keep us all happy even if he goes about it in the worst way. I'm sure he's going to make the most obnoxious sign and yell when they graduate, and I won't... I… Even if I'm there, Yuzu and Dad can't see ghosts, much less touch them, and I think Karin can, but she won't admit it. And now I have to tell them that I died. That I'm a ghost now." Ichigo trailed off as words failed, his body shaking.
Ichigo let out a strangled sob, and Yoruichi gathered him into a tight embrace as she whispered sweet nothings in his ears.
Things were hard, they often were, but perhaps there was light at the end of this tunnel.
###
He felt lighter for having shared, but that still only dulled the pain. Ichigo's grief was of lost moments and opportunities, and he let himself cry for the first time since his mother's death. Still, he was glad it was Yoruichi who witnessed his loss of composure; she may enjoy teasing him, but he knew she would not share his secrets. As they prepared to practice some shunpo technique or another ('There's always more to learn, and you can never be too fast, Ichigo'), he brought up the proposal from the captain commander, vague as it was.
"I think you should accept." Yoruichi's cat form voice was still shockingly deep.
"So you think I should take gramps up on his deal."
He dodged a swipe from a paw. Yoruichi wasn't holding back, and she had her claws extended. Then again, she had always favored the live-fire-builds-character school of training.
"Of course you should. Yamamoto founded the Shinigami academy. That man has forgotten more about being a shinigami than most ever learn"
He stepped back as what was unmistakably a reiryoku cat's claw passed in front of his eyes.
"I'd hope he knows some shit; he's like, really, really old."
Ichigo didn't need her tripping him with her tail to know she disapproved. Her facial expression was so blatant she must have practiced. Cat faces just didn't do that.
"Passing over your apparent death wish, it's still a good idea, at least as long as you don't say that to his face. Now, try again."
Ichigo attempted the new technique, flooding the nerves of his spiritual body with threads of Reiryoku to improve his reflexes, before wincing as headache let him know in no uncertain terms his control had slipped. Yoruichi sensed his distress and brought out a pair of water bottles and a small towel from... somewhere. Ichigo gratefully accepted both, and they sat down to recover.
Ichigo sipped his water and ignored the throbbing headache. "It's just, like what's the point? I already beat Kuchiki, didn't I? I'm a damn good reaper already."
"Ichigo, the captain commander. Well, how do I describe it? He's the first Soul Reaper. Before he came along, most souls fled the central districts and hid in the outskirts. Nobles hid in guarded estates, and some spiritually capable soul or another destroyed every attempt to form a government. Yamamoto was there for the founding of the 13 Divisions, Central 46, and the Shinou Academy. The Academy credits him as their founder. Not a founder, the founder. And some rumors even say he founded Central 46 when he got annoyed by the amount of paperwork it took to lead the soul society."
Ichigo gulped down the last of his water. That was impressive.
"Outside of leading the soul reapers, his greatest passion is teaching. If he wants to train you, then he thinks you are talented. The last time he took students, Shunsui Kyoraku and Jushiro Ukitake were captains within twenty years. And no, you would not win against either of them. If you refuse him, do so for your own sake. Don't refuse such a man out of anger for delivering bad news"
"But, Yoruichi, he took my family from me."
"He did not take away your family out of spite, Ichigo. It was not done to punish you or satisfy some twisted desire. The head commander practically embodies deliberate, intentional action."
"Isn't there something I can do? So I don't have to stay here?"
Yoruichi pulled Ichigo into another comforting hug instead of responding.
"I think you need to talk to him, Ichigo. I've known him for a long time, from before. He indeed expects the best and demands respect. But he is willing to discuss and consider before making a decision. He's a big believer in respect, so don't call him old. I'd approach him in private. Definitely don't argue with him, especially not in front of the captains. In fact, you should also apologize about that; it would go a long way towards earning his respect. Before you accept or reject his offer, ask for details, he won't mind you making an informed decision. You can also ask about the potential to visit your family, though you shouldn't expect anything beyond visits; living in the mortal world is probably not an option."
As she pushed him out of the training room ('and by the spirit king, calm your reiatsu'), Ichigo felt she was almost acting motherly. Or maybe like an older sister. One with bizarre boundaries? Regardless, when he needed a friend, she was there. He was more grateful than he could say.
Author's Notes:
First, thanks to everyone who read, subscribed, or reviewed the last chapter!
This is chapter 2 of the 5 I plan to publish this week.
I still don't own bleach. If you have any leads on that, let me know.
This was actually the third chapter I wrote; originally Ichigo went from existential crisis to acceptance with little fanfare. This fic is not meant to be an exploration of grief or its stages, but I wanted to acknowledge that grief is not a simple thing. I tried to depict the stages of grief (denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance), and how Ichigo might experience them given the circumstance. Realistically, it's not so straightforward, and people can move between stages in various combinations, orders, or directions.
Hopefully, this strikes the right balance between realism and nudging the story in the right direction.