Chapter 5

Ultimatum/One

"I have an order for you, Stark. Defend Kurosaki Ichigo at all times, no matter what the cost. I want you to guard him constantly, except when he's in my presence or other Espada's. Furthermore, allow him to confide in you if he wishes. It is of the utmost importance."

Stark bowed in front of the throne, his forehead nearly grazing the ground.

"Yes, Aizen-sama. I will abide your wish."

XxX

"Why the fuck should I do this? It's boring."

Aizen sighed. Why did the boy have to be such a problem? Wasn't he supposed to have overcome his infantilism?

"Ichigo-kun, do not use foul language in my presence. I will punish you next time something of the sort occurs." Sensing the threat, the boy cast him a wary gaze. "And this training is not purposeless. It will aid your ability to communicate with your sword, which, though advanced, just isn't enough to master it. You will need to learn more attacks, both in Shikai and in Bankai, and, if your Zanpakutou has any, some shields or other difensive structures. You need to achieve the highest level of power possible to you, or I will leave you here when we create the O-ken in Soul Society."

The orange haired teen's eyes widened and he spluttered incoherently for a few instants, and finally managed to form an understandable sentence.

"B-but you can't do that! You'd be betraying our pact! It isn't fair!" His face was an adorable shade of light pink from all his agitation.

Aizen smirked. "You're right. If I can't make you stay on the sidelines, I'll just not let you train for the battle."

Ichigo huffed and pouted, but the soon-to-be-God didn't budge, so the Substitute Shinigami had to agree. Not that Aizen would let him win just because of his adorable pouty face.

"Fine, fine, I'll do it. Stop nagging."

A significant gaze went his way. He gulped slightly and averted his eyes, mumbling.

"Sorry."

"Very well. Clear your mind from everything and hold your sword in your palms. Relax and slip into your inner world…". He lowered his voice until it became a whisper, the boy's eyes closing and his facial muscles distending.

All his other muscles slowly relaxed and Aizen slowly lowered the boy down on the floor, arranging his limbs in a comfortable position.

He motioned the arrancar maid standing near the door to bring over an armchair, and he sat down, observing Ichigo's prone form on the floor as he took a sip of tea he'd been offered.

It had all gone according to plan. When he'd first started monitoring him, from the moment he came out from his mother's womb, he'd been sure that with the right manipulation the boy would be an important asset to him. And he'd thought right. The boy was powerful, and he, Aizen, had managed to turn him away from Soul Society. After all, most people did so after they saw the true side of the organization.

Though he may be incredibly calculative, manipulative and a master at acting and concealing his emotions, he wasn't the only one to do so. Seireitei would often lead on the shinigami by making them believe in false ideals of justice and could easily push the blame on others, like for Urahara's exhilation – something that had been necessary, yet still not too pleasant. It had been only matter of time before the teen laying on the floor in front of him realized where his true potential could be unlocked.

Even if he'd assumed it to be inevitable once he was imprisoned, the murder of his friends was strangely suspicious. Generally, the Soutaicho's style was to kill everyone involved, with no exceptions. And after their souls had departed the real world, there had been no formal execution for them, not even a surprise incursion from the Onmitsukidou, according to what his spies had referred to him.

His trademark smirk curved more than usual.

All the pieces of the puzzle were slowly falling in place, exactly as he'd intended them to.

And maybe, for his own sake, it was best if Ichigo continued living a lie for a little more.

XxX

Expecting to see the usual clouded blue sky, Ichigo opened his eyes, but was met with flat black. Even the upside-down buildings were of the same shade. The only touch of color was a red moon. The landscape, though not desertic, reminded him of Hueco Mundo, or rather, it was almost identical. Though there didn't appear to be any light, Ichigo could make out the building's ridges and windows, but nothing else except that and the moon hanging in the sky. The air was still and he could hear no sound apart from the swish of his clothing and the noise his sandals made as he turned around to inspect his surroundings.

"I know why you are here, Ichigo. Answer my question and I'll help you."

The voice came from the depths of the blackness somewhere behind the vizard. It was the voice he hadn't thought he'd hear again.

Tensa Zangetsu.

He didn't know him as well as the Shikai side of his sword, hell, he probably liked the Old Man better, but hearing again from a figment of his soul was comforting.

"Tensa? Where are you?"

His eyes searched the darkness but found nothing.

Breath ghosted on his face for a split second before disappearing. "Me? I'm right here, Ichigo.". The voice came from near his ear.

"It's been a while, hasn't it? I'm happy to see – I mean, meet you again… I didn't think I would."

Silence enveloped them as soon as Ichigo stopped talking.

The vizard had never been much of an ice breaker, but the atmosphere was so thick that he took matters into his hands and began conversing again.

"So, um… why's it so black around here?" He knew it was probably on of the crappiest things he'd ever said, but it didn't really matter.

"Because you have sustained a great loss. And because you have changed sides. But enough small talk. Answer my question or I won't give you access to my power any more."

Ichigo's face contorted in surprise for a moment. His Zanpakutou had never been quite so…demanding? Strange? Random? But he schooled his expression and calmed himself anyways.

"Go on."

"Why are you following Aizen Sousuke?"

Ichigo gave a small laugh. "I thought you were a part of my mind. Shouldn't you know everything that goes on?"

"Just answer the question. My patience is running thin."

Ichigo, though slightly taken aback by his Zanpakutou's insistence, answered immediately. "To avenge my friends. To be stronger for them. To make Soul Society pay for what they did."

Ichigo couldn't see his face, but he had the feeling Tensa was scrutinizing him from the shadows with a pensive frown on his face.

"Wrong. That isn't all. There are other reasons. Stay here and think about it." The Zanpakutou was silent for a few moments, but then continued. "If you don't realize in the next 23 hours and 14 minutes I'll destroy your inner world, leaving you no reiatsu, without chance to regain your power. Give me the true reson, and I'll aid you."

Tensa Zangetsu slowly disappeared in the darkness in a flurry of red reishi, and Ichigo was left alone again in the stifling silence.

XxX

No matter how long Ichigo racked his brains for the 'real' answer, nothing apart from the one he'd already said would come to his mind. He tried to concentrate but he couldn't. His mind would run in circles and he culdn't conclude anything. It was frustrating. He tried to shift positions while thinking, but that only got him uncomforatable and his thinking capability was diminished.

He was uncertain if he should persevere and fail – hopefully not – or give up now. He knew it was ridiculous to even think about giving up, since Aizen would probably get pissed if he didn't honour their deal. Ichigo let his mind go blank, trying to get an answer in any way possible.

He'd just managed to relax when a hand clamped down on his shoulder and pulled him down, inside the building.

If the outside was the darkest black, the room – or rather space, as there was only ceiling and floor visible, if barely – was blindingly white. It felt as if he was underwater. And he realized that he was floating in an unknown liquid. Baffled and puzzled – he could still breathe, even if underwater –, he turned around to observe his surroundings, and nearly smacked his face against a familiar figure's one, namely, Shirosaki. He stared at his hollow side dumbfoundedly for some time before he was smacked on the head by the other, bored of their staring match.

"OW! Why the fuck did you do that, dumbass!"

A shit-eating grin plastered itself on the hollow's face.

"Ya've really gotten weak, huh, King? Didn't think you'd be such a wimp. 'Specially with Tensa over there. 'N I thougth you'd gotten some balls last time we fought. Anybody could find the real reason. If they have more brains than you, that is."

A lightbulb flicked over Ichigo's head as he ignored the insult.

"Could you help me? I mean, I know we haven't really gotten, um… along in the past but could you just help me this once?"

Hichigo stared at him for a while.

"No. I won't help you." Ichigo was crestfallen. His only hope had gone down the drain.

Hichigo grinned psychotically. "I'll just stimulate your thinking process."

Ichigo's head shot up in surprise, but his brow was furrowed. "I don't get it. You always tried to destroy me, why are you helping me now?"

His hollow side snorted. "Idiot. If your inner world is destroyed, it's not like I'm gonna be 'round anymore. So I'll help ya. And then I'll kick ya off your throne, King."

XxX

Aizen held the cup of tea to his lips for about the thousandth time during the past hour. He'd had to bind the thrashing teen to the bed, as he'd started convulsing, yelling and emitting enormous bursts of reiatsu at irregular intervals since he entered his inner world. Aizen knew it was a security measure, but he almost regretted binding him like that. Moreover, on a bed.

He'd always been proud of his self-control, but now the urge to deflower the senseless boy on the bed was overwhelming. Ichigo's skin was coated in a fine sheen of sweat, his cheast heaving, his lips parted and moist. Positively debauched. It took all his self-restraint to not take advantage of him in that position. His hakama felt quite too tight, and he poured himself the upteenth cup of tea, trying to compose himself. The way Ichigo could get to him was amazing: he'd never been affected this strongly by anyone else. It was rather unpleasant, yet enticing all the same, and Aizen never failed to be amused by this fact. Just the way the boy could get to him made him all the more alluring. Combined with his beautiful looks and mouthwatering power, the boy was irresistible to Aizen.

To lesser men, it might appear strange that Aizen was aroused by power: it was an uncommon and peculiar desire. Instead, he loved the feeling of reiatsu caressing his skin, and great amounts – by his standards – could be a near-orgasmic experience. It was something like a closet perversion – most never expected him to be so strongly attracted to power, though some of the more intelligent ants had understood he greatly appreciated it. But, after all, it was always hard to exactly figure him out. He'd managed to hide his true personality so deeply that the one he showed to his subordinates and enemies was still somewhat different from his true character.

Yet, Ichigo could still understand things about him that no one else would – the dregs of their conversation fluctuated in his mind, like the way the teen was always slightly guarded against him, fully realizing that everything he'd been told by the traitor shinigami could be a lie. He also managed to predict – to some extent, at least – his next moves in the sparring matches they'd had. The boy, was, after all, a wonder. Had he attended the Shinigamy Academy he'd have been considered a genius, much like Gin and Hitsugaya-kun.

He approached the bed cautiously, not wanting to rouse Ichigo from his slumber. He might be completely immersed in his inner world, but he didn't want to risk anything. If the teen failed now, he wouldn't have another chance to get the closest possible with his Zanpakutou. At the moment, it was essential that he mastered this, for the future battle. He could easily beat the Gotei 13 with his previous abilities, but defeating the Rei-O and Squad 0 would prove a bit more challenging.

Aizen brushed away a few sweaty strands of orange hair from Ichigo's flushed face. The boy's facial muscles twitched slightly, but he showed no other signs of receptivity. He was probably too absorbed with the events unfolding in his inner world.

Concentrating slightly, Aizen forced the barrier of his mind to become lax and give away. His consciousness slowly expanded to the rest of the room and, with an extra push, managed to break through Ichigo's mental barrier. His defence was many times stronger than the ones of most of his adversaries, but, like with all the others, he breached his way into Ichigo's mind.

The images were indistinct for some time, but sounds, feelings and sensations were transmitted suddenly and intensely into his own mind. It was somewhat like being surprised by an unexpected gust of wind.

Slowly, the pictures came into focus, revealing buildings shrouded in darkness and a red moon. Ichigo was twisting and turning about, trying to find a solution for his dilemma. He emitted a low rumble of reiatsu, feeling the teen's inner hollow awaken. He slowly slipped away from the other's mind, mission completed, and slowly returned to reality. This process was usually more difficult than entering one's mind, as the person would try to keep the trespassor's conscience within his own.

Opening his eyes and blinking slightly at the light of the room, he returned to observing Ichigo's sweating face. His brow was more corrugated than before, and he was sweating more profusely by the minute. After calling for an arrancar maid, who brought some small towels and a basin of water to cool down the sweating teen, he bid her to leave the room and wetted the towels provided and slowly dampened the sweated skin. He parted Ichigo's kosode and repeated the process, and then he dried him. Running his hands over the smooth musles of his chest, he noticed that the teen's breathing started slowing down, and his face distended into a slightly more relaxed expression.

His lips, though, were still parted and oh-so-pink. That boy could tempt him like no other.

And the lord of Las Noches got about the biggest shock of his life when Ichigo started talking in his 'sleep'.

"Ai…zen…"

Caution thrown to the winds, he slowly bent down and kissed the vizard. It was more of a quick peck, as to not rouse him, but Aizen couldn't resist a taste of the forbidden fruit and slowly licked over the boy's lips, memorizing the exact taste.

Though it was just a stolen kiss, Aizen felt satisfaction bubble inside him. The fact that Ichigo had been calling out his name just made him feel all the better. And of course, it just made the bulge in his pants much worse.

He was using the bathroom a bit too much lately.

XxX

Sated – but not exactly as he wanted it – Aizen settled once again on his chair, not trusting his self-restraint if he were to get closer that this to the teen. He lighted a few sticks of incense – he was sustaining quite too much stress lately – and resumed drinking his tea.

Ichigo's back arched – and Aizen could only picture it doing so in pleasure – and his body began contorting itself, the kido bindings giving away, his junctures forming odd angles as he twisted on the bed. The boy's reiatsu was out of control, bursting around the surrounding area, spiking, dying down and then suddenly returning with many times the initial amount.

Aizen observed the scene, calmly, gaze never wavering and his posture unmoving. After all, the process in itself wasn't hardly painful at all, and Ichigo would surely endure it.

The teen's body spasmed once more before lying still spreadeagledly. His breathing steadied and a few seconds later he sat up with a jolt, eyes open wide and his face sey in a panicked expression.

"W-what? Where –"

Aizen's eyes gleamed maliciously.

"Welcome back to reality, Ichigo-kun."

Ichigo's eyes snapped to Aizen's, and he sighed in relief. He was still panting harshly, his breathing labored as he clutched his chest in panic, trying to calm himself.

"H-how long was I unconscious for?"

"Twelve hours."

Ichigo's hand ran through his dishiveled hair, the palm covering his right eye.

His lips barely moved, and his voice came out as a hoarse whisper.

"Why… why didn't you help me get them back?…"

Aizen mentally sighed. It seemed the boy had used his head a bit for once.

Yet, he feigned ignorance.

For the boy's sake, of course.

"I'm not sure of who you are referring to, Ichigo-kun."

Reiatsu crackled ominuously in the air, and the orange-haired vizard slammed both hands onto the mattress, the vibrations breaking the wooden base underneath.

"You know too goddamn well who I'm talking about, Aizen!"

"I think I've already told you, not too long ago, to not utter profanity in my presence. And I still haven't understood whom you are referring to."

Ichigo gave a low growl, and, eyes downcast, jumped off the bed and stomped towards Aizen in a rage. He gripped the front of his robes, exasperated and near-psychotic as he hollered his anger towards the lord of Las Noches.

His face, the face with those perfect lips he'd kissed not long ago, was almost too close for Aizen's liking.

"My friends! I'm talking about my friend! You knew perfectly well that once dead, they'd have another chance at living, in Soul Society! Yet you never told me nor moved a finger to rescue them! Why?…"

As Ichigo finished talking, his voice waned and he erupted into broken sobs, still clutching the front of Aizen's robes. The boy really did love to tempt him.

Snaking an arm around his back, bringing him closer to his chest, Aizen patted his head, trying to comfort the trembling teen. This was certainly not his forte, but Ichigo seemed to calm down a bit.

"Actually, Ichigo-kun, I have had spies inform me of all that happens within Soul Society and, of course, Seireitei. There has been no formal execution for any of them, and the Onmitsukidou haven't planned any incursions to eliminate them. They were never catalogued in Soul Society's records of the new arrivals."

Aizen could practically feel the despair coiling in Ichigo's stomach, yet, he didn't seem completely hopeless.

"Maybe… they're still trapped on earth, wandering… trying to move on…"

Aizen's views weren't as optimistic.

"Ichigo-kun, we both know the Gotei 13 isn't particularly attentive with planning its moves, but even they couldn't commit an error so grave. I don't know what happened to your friends, but I know they aren't in the Material World for sure anymore. You can still gain the revenge you want, though, Ichigo-kun. You can still make them pay."

Honeyed words to illude him.

Should he know the truth, he wouldn't be so content now.

XxX

He could feel it.

He knew that there was more under those persuasive words of deceit. He could feel the lies, faintly creeping under the words so seductively he couldn't help but listen, trying at the same time to glean the truth from those treacherous words and be reassured by the honeyed lies.

But what choice did he have? If he didn't believe this man, what could he pin his hopes to?

The man's embrace, though not too tight, was comforting. The heat emanated from Aizen's broad chest reminded him of his mother's soft, loving hugs – yet this was incredibly different. There seemed to be some sort of longing in his touch, like the one his father expressed in the rare occasions he managed to hug his depressed son, trying to make him feel better and overcome the shock. At first, when his father had began hugging his son, trying to cheer him up or get some fight back into his body, Ichigo had been completely insensible to whatever feelings were being conveyed, but with time he'd began to be somewhat aware of what emotion the embrace 'felt' like.

And this one felt like longing.

Ichigo didn't have any clue about Aizen's desires. Not that he'd really be able to discern what the man was thinking: he never knew what to exactly expect when it came to Aizen – he wasn't too good at guessing at other's feelings anyways.

He knew he cared – somehow – for the lord of Las Noches anyhow.

He chose to live in ignorance for a while more.

XxX

A rumble of reiatsu went through the King's inner world. Of course, it wasn't his, but Aizen's.

Tch. He should learn to mind his own goddamn business every once and a while. I would've helped him anyways, even without that man's 'suggestion'. He was an idiot if he thought, even for a second, that I would oppose my King. At least for now.

So I pulled him down into my part of his world. He seemed quite bewildered at seeing me, keeping a protective stance – as much as he can manage while floating in the memory-liquid. As if I'd attack him in this situation.

Though I care for him in some way (and I'm seriously doubting my sanity at this point), Ichigo is thick. It took him a good five minutes to process the fact that I'm not going to attack him – not to talk about when he realized that maybe I could help him.

And so here I am, trying to get my point across to a thick-headed idiot that can't realize his own feelings.

"Uhm… so why exactly should I let myself be unconscious here in this watery liquid?" Explaining things to stupid people is always a hard task. But I think I might have gotten used with Ichigo. Not.

I have to resist the urge to facepalm.

Instead, rolling my eyes, I talk. "Ya really are dumb." His face flushes and he splutters incoherently, outraged. I go on.

"I've already told ya… let's see… 'bout twenty times that I'm not attacking you? So get a grip and move yer ass. We don't have too much time ta make ya realize, and personally, I'm not up ta have my existence obliterated today."

My voice has grown uncharacteristically sombre. This is a serious matter. I might consider going to a hollow psychiatrist.

"Ichigo. Do ya know what memories are?"

He looks clueless. Tch. Can't he even answer one goddamn question?

"Huh?"

Apparently not.

"Cut the crap! It's a simple queation, not long, nor complicated, so move it and answer!"

He rolls his eyes. He fuckin' rolls his eyes! It's me who should be doing the eyerolling here, not him!

"Fine, I get it!" He pouts and glares at me. It's not working. " 'Memory is the brain's ability to store, retain and recall information'. As stated in the Encyclopedia."

I can't help it: a bark of laughter passes my lips.

"Yeah, thanks fer statin' the obvious. Next time, use that head ya've got. It's not just fer show."

He sat down crosslegged, trying to not float away, brows more furrowed as he stared into space as he tries to understand what he did wrong – much like an elementary school student. Seriously, I can't believe I'm still this guy's horse. He doesn't know himself – or almost anything else – at all. Dealing with an unintrospective idiot is rather hard. But I'll keep doing it, if I can make the rain stop.

He sits there, thinking. For what feels like an hour. He's too damn slow.

I decide to put him out of his misery. He seems in pain, after all.

"Memories are part of the soul. Ya wouldn't be the same person if ya didn't remember what happened to ya."

"Oh…"

His answers are so uncreative.

"Whatever. Now close yer eyes and get in the memory-liquid. We're losin' time here."

"But… what for? I don't see the point of this."

I resist the urge to facepalm once more.

"Ya don't see the point of lots of things. Let's just say ya'll take a stroll down the memory lane. With proper nudges, of course."

Realization is suddenly painted on his features, and I think he might have arrived to illumination. But, he wouldn't look too good as a fatty Buddha. Note to self: must prevent him from doing so. I really don't feel like being part of some obese monk – especially because I'd be obese as well. Yuck.

He closes his eyes and I extricate myself from the slightly gellified liquid and reach the surface, forming a small platform of reishi to sit on.

"You'd better succeed, Ichigo. Or I'll kill ya." After all, if he doesn't kick Tensa's ass (figuratively) I'm going to cease to exist. And that sucks.

I slowly form a ball of glowing blue reiatsu – mixed in the right doses with memories – and toss it in the liquid. Its light fades for a moment, and then the memory-liquid is filled with bright blue sparks, illuminating the surrounding space with a fierce glow.

XxX

I'm almost considering to invite Tensa down here. Stirring memories around for four hours (and I'm not even halfway through) is so boring my head might fall off. It's so dull I don't think I have words to describe it.

A presence flares into existence behind me, and I don't have to turn around to know who it is.

At least it's been some sort of development. My brain was starting to die. Much like Ichigo's down there in the goo.

"And what do you want?"

I swear I know he's smirking. "Ah… don't pay attention to me… I just dropped by to see how things are proceeding."

"They are proceeding" I say in such a mocking voice I might surprise myself of how much I sound like him. Wait, I don't. "very well. So haul yer ass back home and leave us the fuck alone."

Again, I can positively feel him smirk. I might just wipe his face off with a good ol' Getsuga Tensho if he keeps this up.

"Now I see from where Ichigo gets his foul language. Having you as a hollow, it's not surprising." I hate the way his voice is so calm and composed. But I hate even more the urge to devour him.

"Just fuck off. You're annoying."

"Very well. Things are according to plan, anyways.". The smirk again.

Aizen's reishi subsitute dissipates in the air. Next time he implants something like that in Ichigo I'll kill him.

XxX

Ichigo closed his eyes, and the world became black as he plunged in a comatose state. The silence oppressed him, his feelings were cut off and he was losing his grip on reality.

It returned for a fraction of a second as blue light exploded against his eyelids, small, painless shocks running over his body, leaving his eyes prickling. He was itching to open them, but as Shirosaki hadn't told him what to do, he didn't want to risk anything.

Another shock, stronger than the last ones, sent his eyelids reeling. His eyes opened impossibly wide, and for a moment he expected them to be invaded by the memory-liquid, but was greeted with a scenery he'd never expectd to see again: Karakura, undestroyed, and his friends smiling, laughing and talking as they walked back home from school. Soul Society's menace seemed still far: Rukia was teasing him, as always, Tatsuki hitting him (another daily occurrence) and Orihime's hair was still pinned like she did so long ago. Chad and Ishida kept mostly to themselves, the former usually breaking off the silence only to insult him. Keigo and Mizuiro talking – well, more like Keigo talking and Mizuiro texting on his phone and ignoring him. He saw himself there as well: hair shorter, frown in place, and bag slung over his shoulder.

All of them carefree, worriless. Nothing to dampen their spirits. War, battle and sorrow seemed so far away, not even a possibility formed in their brains.

His vision was blurred, and he wished he could see them better – he never wanted to forget this. It was probably the last chance he had to see them like this. Alive.

He walked right behind them, listening to Orihime's mindless chatter and promises of a self-cooked meal (with lots of gagging and pale green faces, until Tatsuki – used to this sort of thing by now – intelligently steered the conversation away from the fearful topic).

Strangely, the sky seemed to darken behind him. He sped up, but the blackness moved faster than he did, and was soon swallowed in it as his friends continued walking. He let out a yell as the darkness closed over him, as he watched Rukia glance behind for a moment. Completely engulfed in the dark, he tried to resurface, towards that golden memory, his friends and happiness, but every attempt was futile. His eyes were almost forced closed, only to reopen almost immediately.

This time, he was in his parents' room. Ichigo almost had the shock of his life when he saw his mother, there, sitting on the bed with his father, hugging two small babies lovingly. He couldn't see their heads, but he knew they were Karin and Yuzu, though he had no idea of where he – or rather, his younger self – was. Turning around he saw himself, four years old, staring wide-eyed at his parents, a teddy bear tucked under his left arm. If he thought the other memory was blurry, this was almost impossible to see.

His mother's smile could have outshone the sun. "Come here, Ichigo! Say hi to your baby sisters!"

His younger self stepped forward timidly, still clutching the teddy bear, and made his way towards the bed, passing straight through Ichigo's legs, as if he were thin air.

Tentatively, the younger Ichigo held Karin and Yuzu's hands, as if afraid to break them. They both gave a happy gurgle and he giggled happily at the sound.

Tearing his eyes away from the moving scene, he gazed out of the window, listening to the happy voices of his family. His fist clenched , a stray tear running down his cheek. As he wiped it away with the back of his hand, he noticed something unusual on the roof of one of the nearby houses. Turning around for a fraction of a second, he saw himself staring at the window intently as well, fascinated by the strangely-dressed man standing on the rooftop. With his Heian Period clothes he seemed to have come straight from the Jidai Matsuri.

The younger Ichigo tugged the hem of his mother's dress, pointing to the window.

"Mommy, what's that man doing there?"

Isshin laughed and patted his head affectionately.

"We 'common mortals' can't exactly see all the things you do, oh honorable medium!"

The younger Ichigo made a pouty face. "But I don't want to be a medium! I want to be a hero, so I can save you and mommy if someone bad comes!"

His mother's laughter tinkled in the air, and the babies moved their arms around, as if trying to give their mother a pat on the cheek.

Ichigo returned too observing the mysterious konpaku standing on the rooftop. He didn't appear to be a Plus – he had no chain on his chest – and he was most definitely not a hollow or an arrancar. His face was completely obscured by a thick veil, and some sort of character was embroidered on it, but it was too distant to be seen clearly.

He tried to look at him more closely, and almost wished he hadn't.

A katana was dangling from his belt. Rage overflowed in him. He couldn't believe Soul Society had been keeping tabs on him since he was this young. Inhaling deeply to calm himself for a moment, he tried to think it over. It might have been one of Aizen's spies for all he knew, but he'd never seen an emissary of the Seireitei dressed in this manner.

Suddenly, another one appeared. As the first one turned around to talk to the other, he saw, more clearly this time, the character embroidered also on his veil. A zero.

The memory started to fade to black once more. He opposed no resistance, trying to understand what the Rei-O's guard was doing near his house.

His sight returned again, but this time every detail was more nitid than human vision and he could distinguish almost every speck of dust, the stone's grain and texture. All his other senses came back to him a few seconds later, all enhanced. His nose burned as he inhaled the acrid stench of smoke, dust and blood, and his ears perceived all noises so accurately that the clang of swords, a sound he knew so well by now, seemed completely alien to him.

He was on the Sokyoku hill, fighting with Byakuya. They dealt each other the final blow, and he saw himself collapse on the ground, exhausted and exhilarated for his victory as he was cured by Orihime.

After they left, nothing was in sight, and he couldn't see Renji being attacked by Aizen.

One of the downsides of memory, he thought. You can't see everything that happened.

As he returned to the Sokyoku all the everybody else appeared, and he saw himself fall and lay wounded on the ground. He observed the whole scene of Aizen's treason and escape unfolding in front of his eyes with more attention than he'd done, almost two years ago, when he was actually there. And this time, he didn't miss the gleam of interest in the man's eyes as he left for Hueco Mundo, before the memory faded.

In the darkness, this time, no memory emerged. For a moment, he thought something might be wrong. The silence oppressed him and no light permeated. Ichigo opened his eyes as wide as he could, but maybe his eyes were never open: nothing changed, there was no scenery, no images, no warmth, no life. He was still in the darkness, for seconds, minutes, days, years, eons, all cognition of time lost and unreachable, the blackness surrounding him the only reality. His senses were muted and stunted, and all the sensations he'd felt before seemed like some wonderful dream, a life far away that he might or might have not lived.

Suddenly, color exploded over his maybe-open eyes, and he saw. For a few moments, he was blinded by the upcoming light, but his vision returned and he could see dozens of moving pictures, memories, all pertaining Aizen, all falling at the same time from somewhere far higher than where he was – but there was the chance that they might have been going up instead of down –, and he could see them all at the same time. All those fragments of memory deposited near his body, accumulating like snow on trees after a blizzard during the night. And then, he didn't just experience sensations, but he was incredibly aware of every feeling, every emotion, every single variation of his mood. And he was angry, and at peace, exhausted, happy, hopeless, resolute, hateful, attracted, sad and indifferent all contemporarily, all at the same time. All the memory fragments deposited near him, until he was almost submerged under the sheer amount of them. The mysterious surface on which he was resting – which was made of a shiny black substance of some sort, but that greatly resembled the one Tensa Zangetsu's blade was made of – broke and gave away under that mass of feelings and sensations, and he was falling into unknown space, yelling in terror, but the memories didn't stop coming. His head was about to explode from the pressure, and his body ached and hurt all over, yet pleasantly, in some way.

And then he landed in water. A great ocean of memories, where they were the main protagonists and he was just the observer, where he was just as insignificant as a pebble on the street.

He saw many things: most of the memories fluctuating in the water were about Aizen, but he could also see strange visions of his friends, happy and sad, and things he thought he'd never experienced – decayed cadavers strangling him, stabbing him, torturing him, unknown faces haunting his dreams and plaguing every waking moment – Ichigo made a terrorised scream, and they were gone, banished to the recesses of his mind, but he could still envision them right there, near his face and tugging at his hair. The memories around him were now bittersweet: most featured him alone, in those months preceding the Winter War, pining after his heart's – unknown – desire, and suddenly, things became clearer, the xs in the equation were, if partially, discovered. His longing for something, someone, and his interest in Aizen, his hate for the man, and the understanding that had been revealed to him after their battle, the battle that saved and destroyed his life. Warmth erupted in his chest, though he knew it wasn't love. There was desire and longing, yes, but not love. Not yet, at least. It was having finally something to believe in, something that would protect him. The man could deceive him easily, effortlessly, but Ichigo now had nowhere else to turn. The Shinigami had turned against him, and probably Renji, Rukia and the others had been either excecuted or convinced by the Seireitei of his supposed instability. His family, in hiding now, he hoped he would meet again, but they were far away and even he didn't know their precise location, besides that, he knew he'd ruin their peaceful existences if he, rogue subsitute shinigami and searched by every able person in Soul Society, intruded in their lives. Urahara had Tessai, the Shoten and his solitude and sorrow, he could not, would not intrude upon that. His few remaining friends had each other, and he would have joined them gladly, but that wasn't his world. Since Rukia had offered him her powers, he'd began to detatch himself slowly, unnoticeably, from the Material World. The way his life could be influenced by the battles that occurred between Aizen and Soul Society was a proof of that. He would still keep protecting Karakura and its inhabitants, as they were still dear to him, but he'd watch it from afar, never staying and involving himself more than that, making sure that things followed their proper course, untainted by the filth and prejudice of Seireitei.

Zangetsu, I have a reason. I have my resolution.

His eyes opened, and he could see things as they really were. He swam to the surface of the ocean, and awoke in the memory liquid, but this time on the once black, now almost back to normal, side of the world, Tensa standing on a platform with Shirosaki, a placid smile on his face.

"I knew you'd do it Ichigo. Even if he" Tensa jerked his head towards his hollow side "had serious doubts."

Shirosaki snickered malevolently. "Well, I would've kicked yer ass if ya failed, King. And I would've enjoyed it."

In a moment, Shirosaki was near him, psychotic grin and all. "Just remember what that Rukia said. Dead souls all go to Soul Society."

Ichigo's eyes widened, and his other half faded into the nearest shadows.

"You must go now. Until next time, Ichigo."

Tensa nodded, and his inner world disappeared. A spike of rage stabbed through his heart.

His eyes opened.

XxX

"Are ya satisfied with that, Tensa? I think he lived up to yer expectations pretty well, didn't he?". Ah, hollering. One of my favorite hobbies. Plus, it annoys him infinitely.

The ceiling cracks and breaks as Tensa makes his way towards my side of the world. Black reiatsu clings to his cloak and slowly dissipates in the air.

"Yes." He's too quiet for my tastes.

AN: Well, I'm finally back. I'd promised myself to update in alike a week or two, but as you can see (and I'm painfully aware of it) it's been a month. Gomennasai. Honestly. Oh, for those who read 'Jidai Matsuri' and didn't know what it means, it's the festival of the ages, where everybody dresses up in costumes from various periods. And this time, I will update sooner. Hopefully.