Eothr: Semper fidelis. I guess I'm predictable like that…

Disclaimer: I do not in any way, shape, or form own Bleach; only Tite Kubo can claim as such. For the sake of this story, ignore all canon storylines following Aizen's defeat and Ichigo's loss of powers.

This story is dedicated to fellow Author blackout2010, who has been an amazing inspiration, a patient listener, and a kindred soul. You have my eternal gratitude, my friend.

Please forgive me for my sloppy form; it's been a while since I last tried this.

Inherent Memory: Strangest of Reunions

It was finally over…

Kurosaki Ichigo sighed, watching as the Hogyokou rolled out of the grasp of the downed Aizen Sousuke; the transcendent was sprawled boneless on the rubble-laden earth. The sphere seemed to twinkle as it came to rest at the Getsuga's bare foot. Reaching one ebon-gray hand down to grasp the doomsday marble between two fingers, the young man could not fathom the horrors for which the seemingly insignificant trinket had caused…because of loneliness and curiosity…

Ichigo grimaced behind his charcoal bandages, his russet eyes narrowing beneath midnight black brows. The wind whipped at his back, blowing his shocking mane of black hair about; the Saigo no Getsuga Tenshou was a transformative experience, the Mugetsu attack unworldly in scope and power. The silence in his soul was deafening and his previous calm for his sacrifice began to ebb into anxiety.

'I don't want to be alone…not like this…'

And so Ichigo wished; he wished that he would not be separated from his Zanpaku-tou, his soul-partner, and the power to uphold his namesake; he wished that it didn't have to end this way, giving up all that he had accomplished; he wished to remain a protector… A warm glow erupted from the barrier breaking sphere, overwhelming the youth; he did not cry out as his vision dimmed and darkness claimed him.

Urahara Kisuke emerged onto the scene, witnessing a blinding flash from afar as he observed Aizen's downfall. The crater where the Traitor of Soul Society lay revealed only three things: the lifeless corpse of the villain, the Crumbling Orb he created, and a familiar onyx daito blade planted in the ground, a broken chain attached to its hilt.

No Ichigo. No Savior. Kisuke fell to his knees, grief tearing at him at this unexpected twist. He felt the arrival of his long-time friend and companion, her gasp of horror adding to his own disbelief. Shihouin Yoruichi crumbled, hands covering her mouth as tears leaked from her golden eyes.

This wasn't how it was supposed to end…

(In the ethereal cycle of rebirth)

A vast nothingness filled with souls from past lives…

A bright, shining life-force breaching the threshold…

A being containing a catalyst memory…

(One hundred years later)

Futeki Senna hummed to herself as she walked the halls of the 2nd Division squad barracks. An unseated Shinigami of the Gotei Juusan, Senna was an odd duck among her peers. For one, she distinctly remembers her past history as the Memory Rosary-the Shinenju-, and honored those memories into her outfit as a red hair ribbon holding her hair up in a spiky ponytail and a crimson sash for an obi; and for another, she was never able to manifest a Zanpaku-tou. She of course held an Asauchi blade in a sheath at her waist, but she had never released her blade; in short, because she couldn't. Poor Senna, for all her hard work and skills in hohou and hakuda, could not bring forth her soul's partner.

It was frustrating, to put it mildly. Thankfully, Soifon-taichou was lenient with her as long as she fulfilled her duties to the Division; although, her air-headedness and tendency to seek out high places usually earned her the 'illustrious honor' of patrolling the Museum of Victory as punishment. The museum was an idea put into place way back at the end of the Winter War, when the Traitor Aizen fell. Founded by Hirako Shinji, it was meant to teach the rank and file of the Gotei about the sacrifices and tribulations of the Gotei's most illustrious veterans.

For Senna though, there was a single exhibit that she always returned to, a solitary displayed object that she would spend hours watching with longing and sorrow; an obsidian katana, nearly two meters long, with an exaggerated, inverted swatiska tsuba and a red-on-black hilt, a broken black chain attached as a tassel. The Tensa Zangetsu, the bankai blade of the Lost Savior, Kurosaki Ichigo.

Senna dried her moistened eyes as she remembered her beloved friend, whom she sacrificed her existence for to save the world. It had been over a hundred years since his disappearance, and there were still no scholars who could explain the lingering remnant of the famous Substitute Shinigami. The most hopeful, and most desperate, companions to the lost youth felt it was a prophetic reminder, that he would return one day.

"Senna?"

The girl squeaked, her face reddening as she turned to the familiar voice. Her eyes widened as she regarded a tall, one-armed woman with long, spiky black hair and warm, obsidian eyes. The woman wore the standard shihakushou of the Gotei, with a ratty and torn sleeveless white haori; the symbolic office of a Taichou. Her right hand was on her hip, near the hilt of her kodachi-like Zanpaku-tou, as she regarded the purplette with a smirk. She was Arisawa 'Kenpachi' Tatsuki, the Captain of the 11th Division, and one of Senna's only friends in the Seireitei.

"Ah! Tatsuki! Er, I mean, Arisawa-Taichou, wait-crap! I mean-!" Senna tripped over her words, familiarity and discipline clashing in a hilarious soup of awkward. Tatsuki laughed softly before crossing the distance and petting her head, silencing the flustered girl. Their friendship was an odd one, but Senna wouldn't have it any other way. "You get so wrapped up in the clouds, sometimes," the female Captain remarked, her voice soft and deep.

The moment of silence between them passed, and Tatsuki removed her hand. A sensation of air pressure popping caught their attentions, turning to look at the arrival of a blue-black haired woman of shorter stature than even Senna. A stern face of Chinese decent and hard black eyes, the new arrival wore a yellow obi tight around her own white haori and modified black outfit of the shinobi-like Omnitsukidou task force: Soifon, the Gotei Juusan 2nd Division Captain. "Ah, Kenpachi-Taichou, my apologies for being late; and Senna: what are you up to?" The woman's face softened as she regarded her fellow female Captain and her subordinate.

Senna rubbed the back of her head sheepishly, "Um…cataloging division expenses?"

Simultaneous snorts of mirth clued her in that neither of them bought that, so the violet-haired woman groaned at herself. She looked askance at the garden nearby, her entire demeanor saddening. "I was thinking about Ichigo…" It wasn't the first time she confessed to such. It was understandable, in Tatsuki's eyes, having gone through and continuing to go through the same grief. Ichigo was…well, Ichigo.

Soifon, who didn't have near the same level of connection to the Lost Savior as her cohorts but had experience in the loss of a fundamentally important person to her, hummed thoughtfully, "I see…"

The pony-tailed Shinigami drew herself up and bowed to her commanding officers, "Please excuse me, Soifon-Taichou. I need to report to the Museum for my scheduled patrol duty. Good day, Kenpachi-Taichou." Senna took off at a brisk pace, keeping herself from using Shunpo to hide her tears.

Tatsuki sighed mournfully, rubbing a hand through her tresses, "She misses him more than anyone, I think…" Casting one last look at the retreating girl, the former Karakura Town native turned to her colleague and nodded, and the two flashed away.

Senna arrived at the Museum of Victory, tears finally dried, and held herself in check as she went about her route. It was a slow day today, with no scheduled trips on part of the Shinou Academy; that suited the young woman just fine. She didn't want company right now.

The various exhibits contained information on the Traitors, their Arrancar Army, the desolate Hueco Mundo; there was even a small exhibit devoted to the Karakura Volunteers, the humans who fought beside Ichigo in the War. Senna passed them all by, having visited numerous times since she was inducted into the Gotei Juusan, and made her way to the Savior's Mantle. It was a ludicrously lofty name for such a blasé exhibit, Senna mused to herself; Ichigo would have hated it. The room was ten-by-ten, with carmine red paint on the walls. Four benches that could sit three sat in the cardinal directions of the display: a single blade rack displaying the famous black blade Tensa Zangetsu. On the four walls were some moderate paragraphs in black ink, describing some of the feats the weapon had performed. Senna really liked the one where Ichigo blocked the one-million sakura petal blades of Kuchiki Byakuya.

Sitting herself on the eastern bench, the violet-haired young woman gazed forlornly at the flawless weapon as she once again remembered her wonderful, heart-wrenchingly brief time with the boy who had given her the best days of her memory. His silly squawking at her as she used Mirokumaru (which she realized had never been her true Zanpaku-tou, to her frustration) to cut down the weird, white-cloaked Blanks, leading him on a merry chase as she laughed at his scowling face, his insistence at buying her new ribbon, the look of wonder at her walking the light rope, helping the little boy spirit find his father…and then the utter terror as the other Shinigami sought to apprehend her (here her cheeks flushed as she remembered his gallant declaration to protect her), the Ryudoji clan appearing to throw everything into chaos…the horror of being constricted in that false tree in the Valley of Screams and the pain as that jerk Ganryuu used her to try to destroy the worlds…

And then, he came, not without help, and brought the Dark One's plans down around their ears; the amazement she felt as he unleashed the full weight of his power down on that silver-haired asshole, and the relief as he looked at her with that smile…only for it all to end as she fulfilled her purpose (properly this time) and gave back the memories to the Blanks, saving Ichigo and the world….

Senna wiped away fresh tears, a brittle smile on her face as those last moments stuck with her. She felt incredibly selfish for telling him what she did; what it must have done to him, even as the memories of her were fading…She stood up and sidled forward towards the sword, her orange eyes melancholy. She reached out and gently traced her fingers along the flat of the obsidian blade, "I miss you…Ichigo…"

Senna let out a yelp as the sword suddenly pulsed, clutching her hand to her chest. Her eyes were wide and her face paled as the dark sword of her lost friend pulsed again, and she knew, just knew, there was some kind of alarm in place letting someone know that something had happened. So she did the only thing her panicked mind could rationalize: she bolted.

Hitsugaya Toushirou sighed in exasperation as he made his way to the Captain's Meeting Hall, his face marred in a displeased rictus. He just knew that the last few decades of peaceful existence had been too good to be true; he especially felt tense after his layabout of a lieutenant, Matsumoto Rangiku, had been surprisingly productive the last few weeks (something or other about turning a new leaf in response to Inoue Orihime's captainship; which the white-haired man had written off as a load of crock in the face of a century of repeated offenses).

The no-longer diminutive captain of the Seireitei's 10th Division entered the massive double doors, the great reishi-wood structures creaking after thousands of years of use. The other 12 captains were present, thankfully; the even numbered captains on the left (Kurotsuchi Nemu (who had replaced her oft hated father after the "Orihime Incident"), his own open space, Kyouraku Shunsui (who lazily tipped his sakket at him), Kuchiki Byakuya, Inoue Orihime (whose chestnut hair covered her right eye as a result of the "Incident"), and Soifon) and the odd numbered on the right (Kuchiki Rukia, Arisawa "Kenpachi" Tatsuki (who's missing arm was a result of the "Orihime Incident"), Shuuhei Hisagi, Komamura Sajin, Hirako Shinji (the only returned Vizard, who grinned at him), and Abarai Renji (who wore his haori and kimono so loosely to leave his heavily tattooed torso visible, along with his undone cascade of crimson hair). At the head of the procession was Ukitake Juushirou, who took over as Head Captain after Yamamoto's retirement, who was thankfully free of his tuberculosis thanks to the efforts of Orihime. Hitsugaya took his place and stood at attention.

"Thank you for coming on such short notice," Ukitake said, his soft voice a stark contrast from the booming bass of the old dragon. "A priority alarm from the Museum of Victory was triggered less than an hour ago. Kurotsuchi-Taichou, if you please?"

"Hai, Soutaichou." The soft dulcet voice was no longer the stiff delivery of a gynoid; Nemu was her own person, free of the restrictions her bastard of a father had forced upon her. Her posture, her movements, all developed from years of researching her fellow women Shinigami; her purple-tinted black hair was pulled forward into a single braid over her left shoulder, "The alarm was triggered in the exhibit known as the Savior's Mantle…it would seem that Ichigo-san's Zanpaku-tou may be…'waking up', for lack of a better term. I've already ordered it's delivery to the hall so that we may be prepared to receive answers."

The gathered captains were tense; after a century of mystery… A pair of Shinigami from the 12th Division wheeled the weapon rack into the center of the procession, the black daito pulsing with extremely familiar reiatsu to the many captains. Rukia's breath hitched and she stumbled forwards towards the blade, before catching herself and forcing herself back into position besides Tatsuki. That reiatsu…after so long…

"It's okay, Rukia…" Ukitake's voice was gentle, causing the violet-eyed woman to relax. She was forever grateful that her former captain was an infinitely more patient commander than the previous Soutaichou. The silver-haired leader looked to Nemu again, "Kurotsuchi-Taichou, were there any leads in the investigation regarding the catalyst of such an event?"

"Hai, Soutaichou; in the span of time between then last patrol and the alarm, only one entry in the museum logbooks was entered: Futeki Senna of 2nd Division."

As the captains turned to the tiny captain of the stealth force, the woman resisted clenching her fists 'Senna, what have you done this time?!' She stepped forward, bravely ignoring the increasing pulses of the obsidian katana, "Soutaichou, I will retrieve my subordinate at once to uncover the truth!"

"No need."

The gathered Shinigami turned to the voice to fine one Madarame Ikkaku, his customized shihakushou leaving much of his tanned, muscled torso bare, carrying Senna by the back of her uniform like a scolded kitten, "Caught this little scamp hiding out in our barracks; pretty sure she was tryin' to find you, Taichou." The clean-shaven (*coughbaldcough*) warrior from the 11th Division dropped the girl on her rump, unsympathetic of the pained squeak she emitted.

Tatsuki sighed ruefully, waiting for the purplette to regain her footing, "Senna? Come on now; do you know anything about this?" The former Karakura native kept her voice neutral despite her anticipation; she genuinely hoped this wasn't a prank or a false hope. The smaller woman was visibly sweating as she stood before the gathering of captains, walking towards Soifon with shaky steps. She scratched one of her cheeks as she nervously chuckled under her captain's expectant gaze.

"Um…well…you see…" The poor girl stuttered, which only earned her a rise in the spiritual pressure clamping down on her; she panicked,

"IwasdoingmypatrolatthemueseumandIwastakingabreakatIchigo'sexhibitandthenIrememberedallthewonderfulthingswedidtogetherandIgotreallysadandItouchedTensaZangetsuandsaidImissedhimandthenitstartedpulsingandIknewitwasmyfaultandIdidn'twanttogetintroubleI'msorryI'msorry!"

By the end of her one-sentence confession Senna was repeatedly and rapidly bowing at the waist in contrition, gasping for breath as she finished; her face was pale and her expression was the epitome of horror as she imagined all the tortures that would result from her mistake. Every captain's expression was a variation of confusion as the simply couldn't process the completely unintelligible apology.

"Hee hee, you sure are funny, Autumn!"

From behind Ikkaku's back emerged a pink-haired woman, her long tresses reaching down past her back. Kusahjishi Yachiru had grown up in the absence of her father, the former Kenpachi, into a woman of moderate height and figure. Her propensity for nicknames was still second-nature, but at least she used significantly less childish ones.

"Sorry, Tat-chan, I was following Ikka-jii after she found Sen-chan hiding in Yumi-baa's room," (and yes, for reasons unfathomable and unquestioned on pain of death, the young woman regarded her oldest companions as her uncle and aunt respectively; again, do not question) "She said that she missed Ichi and touched TenZan, which is why he's waking up!"

Everyone gave a resigned sigh; of course the former chatterbox of sugar-rushes and mass destruction could understand such a rushed speech. Ukitake's face eased into an understanding smile as he regarded the still bowed girl, pity for her anxiety urging his response, "Senna-chan, if you would please grasp the hilt of Tensa Zangetsu? If the blade responded to your touch, we can only assume that you are the catalyst to awaken the spirit."

The former Shinenju gulped before muttering in a strained voice, "Yes, Soutaichou." Senna turned to the shaking blade, its pulses behaving like a staccato of activity. She reached out her hand, hesitantly, and then grasped the hilt, sending the entire hall into darkness as the reiatsu within erupted.

Orange eyes opened to an autumn wonderland. Oak leaves of all shades of reds, yellows, and oranges fluttered in a crisp, gentle breeze, a dance of colors in the clear blue sky. Getting to her feet, which she noticed were bare of her white socks and sandals, Senna wiggled her toes in the fallen leaves, relishing the crinkling sensation. Her own attire was that of the uniform she had worn during that ordeal with the Dark Ones. She looked around and saw, nearby, a beautiful silver Ferris wheel rotating, covered in twinkling yellow lights. And there, at the top-most car…

Her breath hitched and she sprinted to the ride, her heart beating rapidly as her legs cut through the build up of autumn leaves. She reached the Ferris wheel right as the specific car reached the bottom, the door opening to allow the occupant to exit.

Senna felt warmth in her cheeks and water in her eyes as she gazed at him; those spikes of orange locks, those searing brown eyes, that rare gentle smile, "I-Ichi…Ichi…"

"You called for me, Senna." That voice that melted her heart. The Lost Savior held out his arms and embraced the shaking girl, holding her to his chest as her tears finally fell. She held him tightly and nuzzled her face into his chest, staining the folds of his black kimono with the tears of her relief.

It was too brief; Senna felt a strong, calloused thumb caress her cheeks and wipe away her tears. She looked up at his strong face, into those proud eyes, and felt her spirit soar. "Never look back. Never falter. Keep moving forward. Retreat, and you will age. Hesitate, and you will die. When you need my strength to protect you and yours…"

"Stand upon the black precipice, Ichigo!"

The releasing energy condensed and fell back from the startled captains. The swirling matrix of dark energy contracted and dissipated, leaving Senna in between the two rows of Shinigami leaders. Her attire had changed: the torso of her kimono was limited to two folds of black cloth that pulled tightly against her bosom and wrapped around her neck, with white bandages tied around her abdomen visible in her less conservative top. She was also wearing a tight trench-coat style black-and-red haori, and her hakama pants were ragged and rough in appearance. The red hair ribbon and obi sash were much longer, and their tips were much darker, like the color of dried blood. The black daito was unchanged in her grip, and Senna looked for all intents and purposes like a gender-swapped variation of the Strawberry in his old Bankai.

A loud sigh caught everyone's attention as Senna opened her eyes, her orange eyes bright as she held the blade in both hands, "Welcome home…Ichigo…"

"Yeah…I'm home…"

The reverberating response threw everyone for a loop, including Senna; what?

"Uh…Ichigo?" The captain of the 11th Division voiced, her lips trembling as she heard the voice of her oldest friend after a century of silence. The 4th and 13th Division captains were faring little better, both women holding hands over their own mouths to halt their shrieks of joy/fear/relief.

"Heh…hey Tatsuki…looks like you've done well for yourself. And Inoue, Rukia; I'm proud of you both, too…" Ichigo's voice was tired, everyone could tell.

"It's good to hear you again, Ichigo-kun, but if I may ask, could you tell us how things turned out the way they did?" Ukitake recovered quickly enough, sharing a knowing and amused glance with Kyouraku, who was all but grinning at the current development.

"Yeah…sure, I can do that, Ukitake-san…after Aizen I remember holding the stupid marble of Geta-boushi's and wanting to not lose my strength...after that, I spent the last century settling affairs with my soul…and then, I heard Senna call my name, and all the memories of that time came back to me…so here I am, awake and alive…you know, figuratively…"

A collective sweatdrop permeated the entire gathering; that didn't explain anything!

Senna, who had at this point been quietly observing the interaction between her Zanpaku-tou (awkward…) and the others, was shifting her arms and shoulders around, getting a feel for her new (and utterly badass!) outfit and frowned as one of her new changes came to the forefront of her mind, causing her to blurt out, "Ichigo, why are my boobs bigger all of a sudden?"

The silence was absolutely deafening. Yachiru pulled out the stick of a used lollipop and dropped it on the ground, the –plick- of the plastic explosively loud. The long black blade seemed to be quivering at the sudden, embarrassing attention placed upon it, "Wha? That? It's-huh?!" That was the wrong response. The purple haired young woman lifted her weapon and smacked the flat of the blade against the wood floor of the hall, "HENTAI!"

There was a popping sound and there, rolling across the floor towards the door, was the Saigo Getsuga-ed form of Ichigo as he rubbed his head in obvious pain, "Ow, Sen~naaaaaa~"

…he was whining…the Lost Savior…Hero of the Winter War…was whining…

The collective sweatdrop increased exponentially at the rather pitiful sight, but Senna just huffed and turned back to the Captain Commander, bringing the black daito over her shoulder and putting on a confident smirk, "Well in any case, Futeki Senna, hitokiri Shinigami, reporting for duty Soutaichou!" She then winked and ran her tongue along the flat of the blade.

-THUMP!-

Looking back, the manifested Ichigo was passed out, his entire body red and steam wafting off of him. As the situation clicked in everyone's mind…

"-snrk- BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Tatsuki laughed, clutching her stomach, joined by Orihime who covered her mouth with her hands, along with Rukia and Renji who were pounding the floor as tears streaked down their faces; Ukitake and Hitsugaya palmed their faces, the former in amusement and the latter in frustration; Kyouraku chuckled along with Shinji at the antics; Byakuya's and Soifon's eyes twitched, the equivalent of shock for their normally stoic faces; and the remainder of the audience just watched in exasperation as Senna giggled mischievously.

Interesting times ahead…

Omake

As Senna sat at a table sipping tea, along with her captain and the manifestations of their Zanpaku-tou, Ichigo and Suzumebachi, a question came to her mind, "So, if you can willingly manifest yourself to fight beside me with a sword, what else can you do?"

Ichigo placed the cup down, his red eyes looking to his wielder (awkward…) and nodded in contemplation, "I can put out blasts of energy from my arms and legs, similar to my old Getsuga attacks. My own abilities that you'll learn are more diverse and interesting, but my instinctual power will be more than enough for what I do."

Soifon, glanced over at him, feeling a measure of surprise at how little reiatsu she was sensing from him, "And what does your awakening do for Senna for the moment?"

"Enhanced speed, durability, and power. Even though she was joking, calling herself a hitokiri isn't a stretch of the imagination now." Ichigo gave a half-hearted glare to the sheepishly smiling young woman.

"So, Senna-chan is gonna be a real force for the Omnitsukido now!" the airy, chipper voice of Suzumebachi cried out, flitting around her designated seat as her too-large-for-her cup cooled.

One finger against her cheek, Senna asked, "Can you also-well I mean, um…can you fire Getsugas…from…"

The girl's cheeks had gone completely red.

Ichigo stared.

Soifon stared.

Suzumebachi stared.

Senna scratched the back of her head in embarrassment.

Ichigo stared.

Soifon stared.

Suzumebachi stared.

As one, they all had in image in their heads of the manifested Ichigo performing a pelvic thrust with black energy firing from between his legs as he shouted "TENSHOUUUU!"

Ichigo banged his head against the table.

Soifon held a hand over her face as blood trickled past her fingers, her bangs shadowing her eyes.

Suzumebachi's eyes were swirls as she toppled about, her entire face red.

Senna giggled and tried to push down the luminescent blush.

Interesting times indeed…

No, there is not going to be another chapter, but feel free to use this story to make your own storyline, I certainly left enough tidbits to work with…

"Futeki" can be translated as bold, daring, or fearless, which for Senna is pretty appropriate, I think.

This wasn't as easy for me to write out as I hoped, I'm still suffering badly from my depression symptoms…please wish me luck…

Edit 2/26/15: Dammit, knew I forgot something...

The Omake joke is credited (and not directly stolen) to Daneel Rush's Naruto Genkyouein, specifically the point where Setsuna is teaching Naruto about chakra tails.