The night out helped to take his mind off his little disagreement with Zangetsu. Tatsuki's company, combined with the film made it easy for Ichigo to keep his thoughts in the present.
The school commenced the very next day. Ichigo barely had time to breathe with all the hassle it brought with. Homework had to be turned in at the beginning of class, only for more to be handed out at the end of the hour. The lectures themselves picked up where they had left off, demanding the student's undivided attention. Their note-taking skill was put to the test as they transcribed along-side the long humdrum of their teachers' discourse. Some even had to go to the nurse's office as their hand cramped up from all the writing. Somehow, Ichigo survived; albeit with a noticeable ache in his hands.
This went on for a few days as Ichigo slowly found his rhythm again.
It wasn't until Thursday that he noticed something was amiss.
The patrol was his responsibility for the night. Ichigo made his usual rounds, zig-zagging across town to the known hotspots for Hollow attacks. He came across a wandering plus-soul near the bridge and stopped for a talk. After assuring them he wasn't going to kill them again, Ichigo convinced them to cross-over.
His fingers wrapped around the hilt of his katana and he shivered, it felt cold, empty, almost even. With a frown, Ichigo drew the blade from its scabbard and preformed the Konsō without trouble. The soul thanked him one last time before they ascended to the afterlife.
Alone once more, Ichigo looked at the weapon in his hand. Is it me or is the blade dull? He angled his wrist, catching the streetlights on the steel. It reflected the light with mirror-like clarity, just like it had when he'd received the Asauchi from Yoruichi. Still, something felt off about the appearance of the katana. Hmm…I wonder if zanpakutō have the same maintenance requirement as ordinary swords. Ichigo pursed his lips as he observed the light dancing along the blade's edge. I should ask Urahara-san. If it can't hurt, I might as well. Satisfied, Ichigo sheathed his zanpakutō and continued his patrol rounds.
As the night progressed, he came across a few more plus-souls. Ichigo repeated his procedure: talking with them to put them at ease and preforming the Konsō. Unlike Soul Society, he preferred to send them over before they become Hollows, or got eaten by one. It helped with keeping Hollow attacks low, which in turn, made Karakura-Town a safer place for both the living and recently departed.
Unfortunately, they couldn't keep their home one-hundred per cent Hollow-free. Some plus-souls corrupted before they could send them over, and intruders from Hueco Mundo were rare but still happened.
A cry in the distance alerted Ichigo to one of those sporadic few. He heaved a sigh, a bit bummed-out tonight wasn't as peaceful as he had hoped it would be. Nevertheless, this was his responsibility. One he carried out with pride. Ichigo set his senses on the distorted spiritual-pressure in the distance and took off with Shunpō.
It was a lower-class Hollow, one who probably only just came to be. It was unlikely they had devoured another soul yet, which did settle the core issue Hollows often brought with them: unexplainable deaths. Ichigo drew his blade once more, using a Sonìdo to gain its attention. He then shifted over to Shunpo – as that is near-silent – to manoeuvre behind it. It was textbook execution.
As his blade sliced into the mask, Ichigo noticed that the edge didn't cut as smoothly as he is used to. There was a resistance he couldn't quite put his finger on. Regardless, with the amount of force he had put behind his swing, the Hollow didn't stand a chance. Before it could even realise what was happening and scream, it already started to dissolve into particles; allowing its soul to pass on, unsoiled of its corruption and sins.
Double-checking whether the Hollow was purified, Ichigo relaxed when he found empty space behind him. Deeming the area safe, he turned his attention to his zanpakutō. The weapon had a strange weight to it that was entirely foreign to him. In combination with the cold and emptiness, wielding the blade had become slightly uncomfortable. With a frown, Ichigo adjusted his grip. When that didn't change anything, he even switched hands. It made no difference.
Tentatively, Ichigo called out to his zanpakutō. Zangetsu? It didn't feel like his inner voice reached his Mindscape proper. As if it was muffled. Is something blocking me? To be sure, he tried again. Zangetsu, is everything alright? His answer was silence once more. Strange. Though, now I think about it. Zangetsu has been pretty quiet lately.
Realising he wasn't going to get any answers, Ichigo hummed a bit disheartened as he sheathed his sword. He let his hand linger on the hilt, ignoring the desponded aura it emitted. Hopefully, Zangetsu could still sense his touch and would know Ichigo was going to try and fix…whatever it was that caused this.
Maybe Urahara-san knows more about this. As the thought crossed his mind, Ichigo shook his head. No, Urahara-san may not be the best person to bring this up with. He will probably try and make some excuse to run more tests. Ichigo shuddered at the memory. I don't know where Yoruichi is, so I can't ask her. I don't want to wait with this. Tessai-san, maybe? The adolescent bobbed his head from side to side in consideration before dismissing it. He didn't know the man well enough to bring this up with. Ichigo may have Kidō lessons from him, but that didn't equal to being close. Besides, if I ask Tessai-san, there is a big chance Urahara-san finds out, which is what I am trying to avoid.
Who else could he ask for advice? The Visords had returned to Soul Society, so they weren't an option. Not that Ichigo would think about bringing it up with anyone other than Shinji. There weren't a lot of people he would trust with this. Renji and Rukia, maybe even their Captains, if he was really desperate. However, they also were in Soul Society. Damnit, aren't there any other Soul Reapers in Karakura Town?!
What about dad?
Ichigo froze as the question popped up. His mind helpfully supplied him with the memory of his father dressed in a shihakushō. No, absolutely not! I am not going to ask Goatface about this. He tried to think of any other person who could help him. Unfortunately, there were only two choices: Tessai/Urahara or his father. Was he going to risk being manipulated to undergo more tests? Or would he rather deal with his crazy, poor-excuse of a father?
Zangetsu, you better be thanking me for this.
With lead shoes, Ichigo began his trek back home. Hopefully, his sisters would be already asleep. Or, at the very least, have retired to their bedroom. He didn't want Karin to hold this over his head for the next decade. And maybe, if I am lucky, I can catch Goatface in a serious mood.
#
Ichigo found his father in the study. Isshin sat at his desk, a pair of reading glasses perched on his nose. A multitude of papers was spread across the wooden surface, covering every inch of it with forms and files. A desk lamp illuminated his workspace, giving the white paper a bright glow in the otherwise dark room.
The urge to just turn around and go to bed was tremendous. The only thing preventing Ichigo from doing so was the knowledge his father was already aware of his presence. Hesitant still over his decision, Ichigo knocked on the doorframe. 'Hey, dad?' His father didn't look up from the lines he was reading, giving a mere hum in acknowledgement. 'Can I talk to you about something?'
That got the man's attention. Isshin sat up a little straighter as he turned to look at his son, a hit of surprise in his eyes. The question completely blindsided the father of three. Since the death of his beautiful wife, Misaki, he can't recall his eldest ever turning to him for advice. Even before her untimely demise, Ichigo had preferred to go to his mother with his problems. For Ichigo to turn to him could only mean it was a serious matter.
Realising the stakes of this soon-to-be conversation, Isshin forwent his goofy act. 'Of course, son. What's on your mind?'
With visible reservations about his decision, Ichigo stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. He wore an uncomfortable expression on his face that made Isshin assume the worst. Ichigo sat down on a chair and opened his mouth to speak.
'Wait, before you say anything. You didn't get your girlfriend pregnant, did you?'
Even in the dim lighting, the reddening of Ichigo's face was clearly evident. 'What?! No! Why'd you even-?'
'I'm sorry. It's just, you closed the door and-'
'For privacy!' Ichigo exclaimed. 'If I wouldn't have sought you out if I didn't mind my sisters listening in!' He raised from his seat, 'I knew I should have just asked Tessai'.
'Is this about your zanpakutō?'
Ichigo stilled, hand on the doorknob.
Isshin grinned, 'Thought as much'.
The adolescent turned around, 'How did you know?'
'I didn't. It was just an educated guess. Your reaction just now confirmed it'. Isshin gestured at the chair his son had vacated. 'I wasn't a captain for nothing'.
Ichigo eyed his father with suspicion, still not entirely convinced he should open up to him. He does seem serious enough for now. Quickly weighing the pros against the cons, Ichigo came to his earlier conclusion: this was the best option. Begrudgingly, the adolescent returned to the chair.
'Now, what's on your mind?'
Thinking how to phrase his question, Ichigo leaned his forearms on his knees. 'Have you ever…' He shook his head, restarting his sentence. 'Has your zanpakutō ever felt wrong in your hands?'
Isshin crossed his arms, leaning back in his seat. 'If Engetsu ever felt wrong in my hands?' he repeated. 'That depends, what do you mean with "wrong"?'
'Like cold and heavy; as if there is something between you', Ichigo clarified. 'No matter how I held it, it just didn't feel right'.
'I can't say I have experienced that myself', Isshin admitted. 'Although it does sound familiar'. The man wrapped his hands around his chin, smoothing out the hairs of his goatee. 'Who was it again? It wasn't Shiro-chan, he had everything figured out with Hyōrinmaru. Maybe…' Isshin nodded, 'It was Matsumoto Rangiku, my lieutenant at the time. She complained about her zanpakutō a lot; Haineko, I believe the name is'.
'Did she complain about her zanpakutō feeling heavy?' Ichigo asked.
'Among many things. I don't believe they ever got along very well. From what I could tell, their personalities are quite similar. Ironically, this leads to them clashing quite a lot'. Isshin looked at his son, a bit curious. 'Tell me, did you and Zangetsu had a falling out recently?'
'I wouldn't call it a falling out, per se', Ichigo said. 'More like a disagreement'.
'May I ask what it was about?'
'Something stupid', Ichigo said. 'He was mad I hadn't beaten him yet after three weeks'.
'Why three weeks?' Isshin asked.
'That's how long I thought I would need'. Ichigo rubbed the back of his neck, 'I guess I was a little too enthusiastic. I just thought because I had achieved Bankai once already in two days, three weeks would be more than enough'.
'I see'. Isshin crossed his arms, 'Did Zangetsu say anything to you?'
'He said a lot of things'. Ichigo raised a hand and started to count, 'I am unreliable and not strong enough. I need a better reason to fight and am not taking the fight seriously, in his opinion'.
'Those are quite the accusations', Isshin said. 'Any of them grounded?'
'Of course not. I am reliable, I haven't missed any kind of event in three years. I don't need a better reason to fight, I have devoted my life to protect those around me and become stronger. I was taking the fight seriously', Ichigo stated. 'I am just taking my time getting used to my powers again. Because, for once in my life, I don't need to rush it. There is nothing wrong with that, is there?'
Isshin hummed, nodding his head in understanding of his son's reasoning. 'No, there is nothing wrong with wanting to take things slow. You, of all people, deserve to do things at your own pace'.
Ichigo sank in his seat, relieved to have someone agree with him.
'However, when you don't follow the pace you have set for yourself, that's when things go awry'.
The relief was swept from Ichigo's face as he mulled over his father's words. 'You mean, Zangetsu is mad because I didn't do what I said I would do?'
'That is a likely assumption; it would explain his accusations'.
'If that's true, it just goes to show how petty he can be', Ichigo huffed. 'I mean, this never happened before. Even back when I didn't even know that he was my zanpakutō, and I actively hated him'.
'But back then, he had different expectations of you', Isshin pointed out. 'He didn't have to behave as a zanpakutō, and you didn't expect him to. Likewise, he didn't have to treat you as his wielder, as you didn't think of him as your zanpakutō'.
That does make some sort of sense. Ichigo frowned, I was so insistent on my reasoning, I didn't think to listen to Zangetsu at all. To him, I must be one hell of a lousy wielder.
Seeing his son coming to a realisation, Isshin spoke up. 'I wouldn't worry too much about it if I were you. This is new territory for you two. There is bound to be mistakes made'.
Ichigo looked aside, 'I had hoped to skip those by doing it slow'.
'Mistakes aren't a bad thing', Isshin corrected. 'If you always do everything right, you don't learn from it. And for once, you can make mistakes and not feel the pressure of the whole world on your shoulders'.
'Now it's only the expectations of him I have to carry', Ichigo said grimly.
'You saved three worlds before you were of age. I think you will manage', Isshin assured with an amused smile. The fact you consider this more important tells me you will do just fine. Feeling daring, Isshin placed a comforting hand on his son's knee, 'Trust me, if you show Zangetsu you mean it, he will come around'.
Show him, huh? Ichigo mused. I think I know how to do that. With a plan already forming in his head, Ichigo offered his father a genuine smile of gratitude. 'Thanks, dad'.
'No problem, son. I am just glad I was able to help you', Isshin said, removing his hand. 'Now, I believe you have school tomorrow'.
'Yeah, I should get to bed'. Ichigo rose from his seat, 'Thanks again, dad'.
'You're welcome, son'. Isshin then got this twinkle in his eyes that put Ichigo on edge. 'Just don't make me wait on my grand-children too long!'
Ichigo sighed, of course, it couldn't last until I had left the room. 'Goodnight, Goatface', he said, quickly vacating the space before his father could destroy the little bit of respect Ichigo had for him.
#
Friday, Ichigo had spent the night re-arranging his agenda. Mizuiro and Keigo weren't too happy he cancelled their outing to Naruki City. They had inquired for his reasoning, asking if this was something Afterlife related. Ichigo confessed it was and that he was sorry.
"I made a mistake last week with my zanpakutō, a bad one. I'll make it up to you guys. Next time, lunch is on me".
His offer to pay for lunch was enough to appease Keigo. Mizuiro appreciated that Ichigo had called and explained the situation, instead of leaving them in the dark.
"A zanpakutō is like, a part of your soul, right? If so, then I think you should handle this as soon as possible", Keigo had said.
"I agree. Thank you for informing us, Ichigo. We will set up a new date".
"Thanks, guys, I owe you one".
"One expensive lunch, that is!" Keigo reminded.
Ichigo already felt his wallet cry in his pocket.
Now it was Saturday. Ichigo stood in the underground training space of Urahara. Kon was taking his body up the ladder, having promised to help the shop-keeper until Ichigo was done.
When the hatch fell closed, Ichigo let out a deep breath. Alright, let's do this right, this time. Resting his hand on the hilt of his katana, Ichigo called out for the piece of his soul that Zangetsu represented. Regretfully, he wasn't answered. I suppose he is still mad, Ichigo mused. Rightfully so. It only served to solidify his resolve to make amends. Again, Ichigo reached out. This time, being more firm in his demand. His zanpakutō-spirit resisted, pushing back in defiance. Ichigo wasn't having any of it, metaphorically grabbing his look-a-like by the collar and dragging him into the material world.
A chunk of black spiritual-pressure parted from the rest, clustering a couple of feet across of him. It grew and shifted, shaping into a humanoid form. At once, the darkness drained away, revealing the pristine white uniform and equally pale skin of his zanpakutō-spirit. Zangetsu did not seem particularly thrilled to be there. His arms were crossed, brows furrowed, yet his shoulders were slack. 'What do ya want?' he asked with a sigh.
'Bankai', Ichigo answered with resolution.
'Thought ya were going to try again next year', Zangetsu pointed out.
Removing his blade from its scabbard, Ichigo replied. 'I've changed my mind. We are going to fight, and I am going to win'. He raised his arm, levelling his blade at the spirit. 'I will beat you so hard, you will forget your own release-phrase'.
Zangetsu almost choked on a scoff, ''Scuse me? What did 'cha say?'
'You heard me. Draw your blade', Ichigo commanded.
Almost robotically, the spirit reached for the weapon at his side. Before his palm met the bud of the hilt, his fingers curled. 'What if I said I don't want to?' he gritted out.
'You would be a liar', Ichigo stated with a grin. 'A really poor one at that'.
Unable to restrain himself longer, Zangetsu drew his blade. 'Pft, fine!' The spirit settled into a stance, 'Don't ya dare to disappoint me again, Ichigo'.
'Oh, I won't'. Ichigo adjusted his form, his free hand joining the other around the hilt. As he raised his blade towards the sky, Ichigo recited a familiar poem. 'Abandon your fears. Look forward. Move forward and never stop. You'll age if you pull back and you'll die if you hesitate. Come forth!' Black spiritual-pressure erupted from the pommel, rising up to envelop the whole katana. Ichigo pulled his hands apart, now wielding a blade in each, throwing a smug grin to his spirit. 'Zangetsu'.
The spirit scowled in disdain, 'Damn you'. Tearing his own sword apart, Zangetsu now also wielded his Shikai blades. 'Ya did that just to piss me off, didn't you?'
'No, actually'. Ichigo twirled the smalled blade. 'I told you, I want to do this the right way. If I were to obtain Bankai without ever having spoken your release-phrase, I would go against the rules I have set for myself'. Eying the spirit, he shot Zangetsu a smirk. 'That it annoys you is just an added bonus'.
Zangetsu tightened his grip on the hilts, gold leaking into his irises. 'You are playing with fire here, Ichigo'.
Hooking his little finger around the handguard of the smaller blade, Ichigo raised his hand to his forehead. 'Let's add some fuel then'. Gathering his hollow-pressure in his free fingertips, Ichigo jagged his hand down. The black energy clung to his face, forming his mask.
Simultaneously, a hole opened up in Zangestu's chest. Black ooze flowed to his face, forming his own mask. Without a word, the spirit used Sonìdo, initiating their combat.
After only a few minutes, Zangetsu knew this was going to be the most satisfying fight he ever had the privilege of participating in as of yet. Everything Ichigo had been doing wrong last week, he was now doing right. No prying eyes were overseeing their battle. Ichigo was using his Soul Reaper and Hollow powers to their full potential, no holding back at all. Even his eyes; that look of resolve that every single one of Ichigo's opponents had loathed being on the receiving end of. God, how much he had craved to see them.
The last few weeks were but a distant memory. With each crossing of blades, each blow dealt out, it was replaced by this glorious, Bankai worthy, fight.
Wielder and weapon found themselves in a deathlock. Zangetsu almost purred in delight at the resolve that echoed within Ichigo's sword, and by extension, him. His irises were well-nigh overtaken by his pupils, leaving his eyes a void of black of psychopathic elation. Ichigo's determination did not waver as he stared into that abyss of madness. In fact, it only served to strengthen it. It was him who brought out this side of his zanpakutō. Thus the responsibility of bringing him back fell upon him as well. Ichigo decided that, if he couldn't control Zangestu, he was not worthy of wielding him.
Gathering his spiritual-energy in his fingertips, Ichigo muttered under his breath one of the few Kidō he could cast. 'Hadō #11, Tsuzuri Raiden!'
Electricity shot from his fingers, travelling over his blades and jumping over to those of Zangestu. The zanpakutō was blindsided by the use of Hadō and failed to protect himself. The lightning struck him hard, his muscles contracting against his will while the skin of his hands melted to the hilt of his swords at the sheer heat. Ichigo took advantage and pushed off. He swung his leg up, kicking Zangestu's head back. Ichigo followed up with another, his heel connecting with the spirit's temple. Pieces of the mask went flying upon impact, exposing the right side of Zangetsu's face.
Quickly, Ichigo brought his hands together. Golden light wrapped around his intertwined fingers like strings. 'Bakudō #4, Hainawa!' With a swing, he launched the kidō to his zanpakutō-spirit. Zangestu was still recovering from the previous two attacks when the next one hit. Ropes of energy wrapped around his body, binding his arms and legs. Unable to keep his feet beneath him, Zangestu started to fall. Two Getsuga Tenshōs were fired in rapid succession. The first one brought the spirit to the ground, the second drove him into it.
Zangetsu struggled against the spell, his lack of experience with Kidō turning out to be the final nail his coffin. Red light filtered through the cloud of dust his crash had kicked up.
Time slowed. Zangestu knew that, if the Cero hit him, this fight would be over. The problem for him was, there was nothing he could do about it. This revelation brought up conflicting emotions. On the one hand, he mourned the end of their illustrious battle. On the other hand, the gratification of having his wielder best him in such a glorious display of power was unlike anything he had ever felt before.
'Cero!'
Warmth bloomed inside his chest at the call that ratified his defeat. It spread through his veins like a wild-fire, burning beneath his skin with his insides as fuel. It didn't hurt. Actually, it was quite the opposite. The frenzy the fight had put him in subsided, the heat soothing his mind back to lucidity. Zangetsu blinked, reassessed the situation he was in, and smiled. He knew what was going on, even if he had never experienced it properly before. Guess he is a man of his word. Time started to kick back up; the Cero gradually heading towards him at a faster pace. Zangestu rested his head, awaiting the attack with no small amount of pride. Apology accepted, King.
#
From above, Ichigo watched how the Cero cut through the cloud of dust and more-or-less obliterated the ground obscured beneath. Ragged breaths left him as he allowed himself a brief moment to collect himself. His eyes stayed trained on the area below, on guard for any sign Zangestu had escaped defeat. Absentmindedly, he adjusted his grip on his weapons, preparing himself to dive right in to finish the job, if necessary.
A strange sensation of déjà-vu came over him as an overwhelming warmth erupted from his core. His spiritual-pressure solidified, forming tendrils of black energy that coiled around his limbs. Confusion arose in his mind when he failed to be unnerved. It would be the appropriate reaction to have; one's body shouldn't be controlled by their energy. With a detached form of intrigue, Ichigo felt how – with gently pulls and pushes – his arms and legs were moved. His feet were spread apart to shoulder-width, his right behind the left. His arms were raised, bringing his blades together to point forward.
Spiritual-pressure whirled around him in a storm of darkness, ribbons of red breaking up the monotonous black energy. His lips curled into a smile as he realised what was happening. Ichigo barked out a laugh before he called out with zeal, 'Ban-kai!'
The sphere imploded.
Ichigo's breath got caught in his throat as the spiritual-pressure returned to him. His spiritual-energy shifted in response, red and black growing in equal measure while the blue stayed behind. It burst free with violence. The whole room filled up with his spiritual-pressure in an instant. The density and weight of it even palpable to Ichigo himself. His body protested at the burden it suddenly had to endure, his legs straining to carry his weight.
The particles beneath his feet became unstable as his mind blanked out. Ichigo's eyes widened as gravity got a hold of him. He tried to regain his footing, alas, the ground came faster. He managed to land on his feet but was unable to keep his balance. In a last-ditch attempt to stay standing, Ichigo brought his sword down. The blade pierced the stone surface without effort, settling a fifth of the way in. Ichigo panted as he leaned over the hilt, sweat dripping down his face in small rivers. His body was shaking uncontrollably, unable to withstand his own power. Despite this, he noticed something rather curious.
It's…different.
The sword he leaned on was not the slim, ebony daitō of his Bankai. This one resembled his Shikai's main blade, only white with a black core. A chain dangled from the handguard-like protrusion, connected to a part that was buried in the ground.
Seal it. I need to seal it.
Steeling himself for – what he assumed would be – an unpleasant experience, Ichigo closed his eyes. Focussing on his ragged breathing, he reached out with his control and commanded his spiritual-pressure to return to him. It wasn't very willing to comply. Grunting in exertion, Ichigo began the tedious task of reigning in his spiritual-pressure.
Pull and pause. Pull and pause.
The spiritual-pressure was more rowdy than usual, slipping through his grasp and escaping his hold many a time. Yet, Ichigo didn't let that deter him. He continued until it became hard to breathe, then sealed his blade completely. At once, the weight vanished. The thickness of the air reduced significantly, each breath no longer a punishment to his lungs.
His sword changed back into a simple katana, the shift in length enough to off-set Ichigo's balance. With a thud, the adolescent collapsed on his knees. Arms barely out in time to catch himself from falling face-first into the ground. Eagerly, Ichigo sucked in breath after breath, supplying his body with the air it had struggled to get moments ago. His frame trembled from left-over adrenaline, the heat in his chest dying down, leaving him feeling rather cold.
What was up with that Bankai? Ichigo thought, still trying to wrap his head around what had happened. It was like fighting Byakuya all over again. I could barely move.
'Kurosaki-san!'
Ichigo tilted his head, seeing Urahara had dropped down the trapdoor. With a single step of Shunpo, the man stood beside him. Kisuke lowered to his knees, draping his Haori over the shaking back and shoulders of his ex-student. His hands glowed green as he applied Kaidō, easing a bit of the ache and pains that the adolescent suffered from. Ichigo relaxed at the touch, shifting to his knees while holding the Haori in place.
'Thanks, Urahara-san.
'I wouldn't be thanking me yet, Kurosaki-san', the man said.
'Why? Is something wrong?'
'That remains to be seen. Though I wonder, what on Earth happened here?'
'I…I sort of earned Bankai, I think'.
'You earned Bankai?'
Unsure, Ichigo nodded. 'I don't think that Bankai I learned three years ago was an actual Bankai. Zangetsu must have given me some substitute so I wouldn't die against Byakuya'.
'I see. That would explain the immense influx of spiritual-pressure'. Urahara mumbled the last part to himself, though it was loud enough for Ichigo to hear.
'Influx?'
'When a Soul Reaper releases Shikai or Bankai, their spiritual-pressure output multiplied between five to ten times. However, when they obtain it, that is almost doubled. This is because the Soul Reaper isn't familiar with the technique and cannot control it'.
'And this is a problem why, exactly?' Ichigo asked. 'This place is pressure-proof, isn't it?'
'That is correct. The walls, ground and ceiling are enforced with Seki-Seki stone. Even the trapdoor contains a thin slab to keep anything from seeping through', Kisuke told. 'However, that doesn't matter when the pressure causes the hatch to blow from its hinges'.
'What?' Ichigo looked passed the shop-keeper to the ceiling. Sure enough, there was a gap where the trapdoor once was. 'Oh'. His eyes travelled down, finding the remnants of the hatch on the ground. 'Shit'.
'Fortunately, we were close by and cast a barrier over it. So, there is a possibility it has gone unnoticed by Soul Society', Kisuke said. 'Still, I would advise you to inform your family and friends that Soul Society may pay Karakura-Town a visit soon'.
#
END
© Bleach – Tite Kubo
#
If you like this story, check out EyesOverEons' story: "Doing it Right". It was slightly inspired by this story, so chances are, you will like it, too.