Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.

Nothingness.

No feeling, no sight, no sound, no thoughts. Nothing.

The first thing that he became aware of was his breathing, an intake of air though his nose as his diaphragm contracted, and an exhale of air again his diaphragm relaxed.

The next thing he became aware of was his sight, or lack thereof. The complete darkness confused him, until he opened his eyes and realized that they had hitherto been closed. Opening his eyes hadn't helped much. He had exchanged complete darkness for nondescript whiteness.

The rest of his awareness returned relatively quickly after that. He began to move his limbs, aware of a feeling of suspension, and tried to right himself from his prone state, only to realize that he had no sense of direction. There was no up or down, no gravity to affix him to the ground, and no ground which to be affixed in the first place.

Looking around, he knew that there was something missing. It was very quiet. Too quiet.

He cast around his mind for thoughts, memories, anything that would give him something to grasp in the great nothingness around and within him. A frown marred his face as he tried to- to what? Remember. Yes, that was it. He was trying to remember something. Something was lost to him, and he knew it was there, trapped somewhere in the back of his mind, waiting to be discovered.

An impatient growl escaped his lips as he concentrated harder. That nagging feeling was starting to get annoying, and the lack of sensory input was disconcerting.

Then he heard a noise, a loud, thundering noise that terrified him. He whirled around, looking for the source of the sound before realizing that he had less heard than remembered it. Yes, he was remembering. But did he want to remember? The noise, whatever it was, promised unpleasantness. His impatience quickly overrode his hesitation, however, and gripping that small sliver of something, he delved into the recesses of his own mind.

Screaming, explosions, the smell of blood and sweat permeating the air. Shouted commands and tired feet running desperately to fulfill orders. A battlefield strewn with limbs and sodden with the blood of innumerable fallen. What is this place? What is this nightmare? Cringing at the sight before him, he curled into himself as though seeking protection from the horrors that surrounded him, but it was futile; everything was happening in his mind, and there was no escaping his own mind.

As he tried to process the scenes playing out before his inner eye, a single set of memories drew his attention more than the others. His last memories.

Betrayal, hopelessness, anguish. Indignant rage at the ones who would so easily forsake him for their own comfort. Pain and loneliness when he was dispossessed of his two companions, both of them integral parts of his soul. Grief and desperation at the nonexistent future before him. Shame and despair at his final act of cowardice, and his contentment at the agony that swiftly followed.

He did not have long to dwell on these things as more memories come flooding back, too quickly for him to process, faster and faster until he cried out in pain, feeling like his very head would explode from the pressure. They were taking him further back, forcing him to relive the horrors of war in flashes of color and sound. He tried to focus, and with great effort he slows a few down so that he may understand their contents, but what he sees makes him cringe in horror.

Countless cries of anguish fill the air in unison with the endless bloodbath surrounding him:

Rangiku sitting contentedly by Gin's corpse as the last of her lifeblood drained out of her multiple wounds.

Captain Kyouraku looking over Captain Ukitake's body with empty eyes.

Rukia crying out from under Byakuya's bloodied form, which remains hunched from when he covered her body with his own to save her from the Segunda Espada's cero.

Rukia and Renji's battered forms where they lay carelessly on display after their public execution.

Chad, his body almost unrecognizable and missing both arms by the time it is brought back to base by the recovery team.

Familiar faces pass by him in a grisly parade of death, each scene vying with the one before it for the title of most horrific and cruel. Interspersing these are more scenes of destruction, although of a slightly different nature.

Not a single shinigami or human is in sight amongst the bodies of hollows around him. Not for no reason was Ichigo hailed a one-man army. The death of those closest to him sees him throwing caution to the wind and slaughtering all within sight, his patchwork skin of flesh and white shell of instant regeneration and the black katana cutting swaths of enemy forces clean with each swing painting an unforgettable picture.

Amongst the ruins of Karakura Town, he sees his family ruthlessly cut down, the faces of his twin sisters forever frozen in expressions of terror, their disembodied heads placed so carefully in front of the charred remains of their house. Below the tears drying on their faces and the blood forming clumps in their hair lay their broken zanpakuto, strewn in careless reverence as though inconsequential offerings at a sacred altar. And their child of a father lies motionless, impaled through his chest by his own zanpakuto, which still affixes him to the ground, his arm reaching out desperately to where his daughters' heads are crying out in silent screams.

Captain Unohana proved that day exactly why she is considered the most powerful shinigami second only to the Captain Commander by forcefully restraining him in his inconsolable state. For an unknown time afterwards, he knows only the numbness of alcohol and the aggrieved face of Orihime, the only person he lets near. He is not allowed to bathe himself in his enemies' blood, but that also means he cannot fall prey to the trap lying in wait for his berserker state.

He grips his head in an effort to hold back the memories and alleviate the pain, but they keep coming, keep haunting, keep rushing in a flood that threatens to overwhelm him. Yet he is helpless to do anything but let the memories come and consume him.

The last human militant to survive the war, he rushes into the dungeon to rescue Orihime. Their fledgeling romance had just barely taken flight in what little time the war allowed, before she was kidnapped into the stronghold of Las Noches once again. The evidence of her resistance is plain as day on her wasted and mutilated body. His entire being revolts at the sight, yet unable to tear his eyes from the effects of unnamed tortures, he reigns in his nausea, and choking back a sob, carefully approaches the girl with measured steps. Finally close enough to touch her, he whispers, "Orihime."

Blind eyes turn toward him at the sound of his voice. "Ichigo-kun, you came for me." Her voice is so soft that he almost does not catch her words. Looking down with guilt at the woman cradled carefully in his arm, he spots a small smile on her pallid face, a testimony to the inner strength that he admires, but so few acknowledge.

"I'm so sorry. I-I promised to protect you, and I failed." He presses her raised hand against his face, not caring if she feels the moisture on his cheeks.

"Ichigo-kun, I-l've alw-always lo-…I l-love…" He tries to respond, but he cannot get anything other than ragged breaths past his throat, and he curses himself for his lack of speech.

"Santen Kesshun." The words are not loud, but the creaking voice contains a surprising amount of strength and determination. There is a crash, and he turns to see the orange shield deflect a hollow's attack. Quickly dispatching the hollow that had dared intrude upon them, he turns back to Orihime to find her devoid of life. A moment of shocked silence, and a mocking laugh escapes his lips. Here he comes to rescue the one person that he might have claimed to love, and instead, she protects him with her dying breath. What a disaster of a protector and friend. The laughter morphs into an anguished roar and howl of grief that has no right to escape from a human throat. The loss of his last nakama and recent girlfriend is the last straw, and without anything to hold him back, he systematically kills every hollow he can find sheltered within Las Noches and renders as much of stronghold as possible unsalvageable before somehow returning to base dead on his feet.

He begs for unconsciousness to divest him of this unbearable pain, but no relief is to be found. Curling into fetal position, he cries out until his voice disappears. So he suffers what feels like an eternity of pain until at some point, he blearily realizes that the pain has stopped. There is a ringing in his ears, and his breath is ragged, but he is alive, and he can think again.

Tentatively, he moves his limbs, cautious in case the small movements restart the pains, but they do not return. Bolder, he rises to sit, and wonders where his companions are. In a flash of realization and self-loathing, Ichigo- yes, that was his name- remembered that they were gone. He had given them up in his desire for closure, and thereby consigned himself to an eternity of loneliness. He frowned. How was that possible? The Final Getsuga Tenshou should have destroyed him as well as Zangetsu and Shirosaki.

Ichigo shook his head in confusion, and looking around, realized that he was not alone. A respectable distance away, he spied a glowing white silhouette- what was with this place and the color white?- that was distinctly female.

Instinctively assuming a defensive stance, he called out, "Who are you? What is this place?"

There is no verbal response, but he feels something grazing his consciousness. Was that…fear that he felt from her? That, and nervousness and anxiety.

There was another prod, and he immediately closed off his mind to whatever was trying to access his mind. He tensed to charge the silhouette for the intrusion, but stopped short when his hand grasped thin air. Of course. Zangetsu no longer existed. His form tensed again in preparation for a fight when he felt something akin to panic buffet his senses.

"Wait. Please." The voice was that of a child, and the words halting as though the voice were unaccustomed to speaking.

"Who, er, what are you?" he asked again, but he received only a gentle pressure imbued with a sense of pleading against his consciousness in response, and feeling no ill-intent, he cautiously opened his mind to the other being.

Fear. Longing. Loneliness.

She could feel the hearts of the ones she touched, and they scared her. Their desire for power, their deceitfulness, their insatiable hunger. She changed them as her master commanded, gave them more power, but she would also call out to her master to warn him, to plead with him, but his mind was inaccessible to her. And not hearing her master's voice, not being able to reach him, that was what hurt her the most.

She was always kept close to her master, which she was grateful for. When he was using her power, he held her in his hands. When he did not immediately require her assistance, he kept her in his haori, close to his heart. He never opened his heart to her, but she always hoped. Perhaps, if she performed well enough, if she pleased her master, he would open his heart to her.

And so the cycle continued. She would wait for her master's bidding, which was almost always the same, she would break the barrier between hollow and shinigami, and he would put her away. And while she rested, she would always hope.

Then one day, something changed. The warmth and confidence she usually felt from her master were no longer there, replaced by coldness and the loneliness that was always present but suppressed. Again and again, she tried to reach out to him, but she failed each time. He now almost constantly required her powers, and she willingly performed, but she desired rest.

She could feel that her master was happy about something, and that brought her joy, but his happiness was also tinged by madness, and that above all frightened her.

One day, she was roused from her rest by the call of her master, and feeling his soul meld with hers, she rejoiced. Finally, her master was accepting her. They were joining, and she would feel his heart. But her joy was short-lived. Yes, their souls had merged, but they remained separate. He now had unlimited access to her powers, but her consciousness remained apart from his own. She had little time to lament, however, for she could feel that her master was under attack. Bitterly, she was glad that at least this way, she was best prepared to defend her master. She could feel her master fighting against his enemies, the offense; she would heal him and make him stronger, the defense. They fought and they fought, and she hoped that when this was all over, her master would finally open his heart to her.

Throughout his battles, there was one individual who constantly challenged her master. He refused to leave them alone, and she hated him for endangering her master. As the two struggled against each other, she fought to give her master the power he so desired, the power that would keep them alive. But the last battle was different. Suddenly, she felt her master and herself being torn apart by a power far superior to their own. She called out to her master, begging him to fully accept and merge with her so that they too might reach greater heights, but he was deaf to her. She turned again to the power that spelled their destruction, and realized that this was not the power of one individual, but of three- a human turned shinigami, a hollow, and a zanpakuto. She saw before her the power that might have been their own, and envy pierced her heart. Her master had been there when she awoke, he had cared for her, and in return, she had given him her love and loyalty. Was that not enough? Why would he forsake her in this way? Here was the perfect example of what their own union could have been, and they had done so without the power of the hogyoku. Even with the evidence before his eyes, he remained deaf and blind to her desires. All three of them would die because of the folly of her master. She realized that she had been chasing a ghost, that her happiness would never be realized by the being she called master.

In that moment, she made a choice. She could not save any of them, but she had enough power to protect one from the full effects of the attack. Bidding a final farewell to the one she had once called master, she wrapped herself around the man whom she once hated as her enemy, and allowed herself to hope.

The vision ended, and Ichigo studied the figure that he now understood to be the hogyoku. Even understanding her story, it did not excuse the destruction she had wrought. Eying her with distrust, he finally asked, "What do you want from me?"

The hogyoku hesitated. "I want you to be my new master?"

"WHAT?! You want me to be your new master? Hell, no! Why-" Ichigo's ranting was cut off short upon seeing the hogyoku's crestfallen face, and he sighed. "Look, I'm sorry for what you went through. I really am. But... you're the reason for the Winter War, and everything around it. To ally myself with something that caused all that pain and suffering…I'm sorry, but, I can't."

The hogyoku nodded in understanding, as though disappointed but not having expected anything more. "Then at least let me grant you a wish."

"…huh?"

"I'm the hogyoku. I can manifest the desires of the heart. You won't be my master, but at least let me grant you a wish. What does your heart desire?"

"Alright," Ichigo said, nodding hesitantly. His only other option was to cease existing after using the Final Getsuga Tenshou, and there wasn't much worse that could happen from there. "I want…" Ichigo frowned. What did he want? He wanted Zangetsu and Shirosaki back. He wanted his friends and family to be alive again. Hell, he wanted the whole goddamned war never to have happened. He wanted to give his loved ones another chance at happiness. He wanted another chance to protected. He wanted…

"…redemption."