There was a girl leaning over him, clothed in a billowing summer dress. She was slim, fine boned as a bird, short, with flawless pale skin and black hair that fell insistently and endearingly into her eyes, a proper aristocrat and kind of beautiful in a sad sort of way. He realised that she must have been who Renji was sitting next to in the bar, although he wasn't so sure about her age now, especially with those huge blue eyes trained on him, wisdom and hidden half-truths dancing in their inscrutable depths.

Ichigo hadn't had much experience with girls, but he was pretty sure that somewhere along the line, someone—probably Keigo, the shameless pervert—had told him he wasn't supposed to ask about their age. Slightly unnerved he was taking advice from Keigo, he averted his eyes and assumed his usual vaguely offensive demeanor. "Geboo?"

She sat down beside him on the grass. "Geboo. It's a kid's game, the usual with the ridiculously overpriced trading cards in outlandish colours. It was kind of popular when Renji and I were kids, and he still has a collection—plastic sleeves and everything. The Quincy card was awesome."

Ichigo raised an eyebrow. "The Quincy card?"

She held his gaze, a twinkle in her midnight blue eyes. "10 000 attack power."

Ichigo put on a smile for her sake. In happier times, he might have laughed, but not now. Not with the threatening loom of a recurrence of Hollow, the terrifying disease that forced you to give up your humanity and turn into a rabid monster in a human shell. He had been infected once, in the summer of his ninth year, and his parents had been advised to put him down before he became a threat. There was little hope in a little year old kid beating the hollow inside, and it was common knowledge that hollows went for their families first. Nevertheless, his parents had kept him alive, which gave him enough time to beat the hollow inside into submission.

It took 3 days. 3 days in which he was possessed by a hollow.

It was common knowledge that hollows went for their families first.

In the torrential downpour of the summer of his ninth year, Ichigo had killed his own mother. He'd been foolish to think that it had ended there—a Hollow infection was always fatal.

He hadn't told anyone, of course. There was only the soft maniacal voice he remembered so well, whispering in his ear as he drowned in a sea of his own pathetic helplessness. Really, it was no wonder that he had taken to drinking so much that he could distinguish the sickly sweet aftertaste of government brand beer. Speaking of which, damn the aftertaste. He needed alcohol.

He fumbled for the bottle in the darkness, fingers brushing aside stalks of grass as he looked for it. Finally, his fingers closed upon cool glass, and he lifted the bottle up towards him—only to have it snatched away by nimble fingers.

He looked up and realised that the girl was still there, sitting across from him, and more importantly, that she had stolen his beer.

"Give that back," he mumbled hoarsely, a wild look in his eye. He reached out and grabbed her arm with more force than necessary, making her close her eyes in a wince. He let go almost immediately, afraid that he had hurt her too. It was more than likely since she was so small—

She opened her eyes, and they were the dark violet of thunderclouds. "You idiot," she hissed. "Stop moping around already!"

Ichigo looked on at her incredulously—it had taken his friends and family years—

"So you have a hollow inside you—"

How did she—?

"—all you have to do," she said, her voice a siren call through his haze, and all he could see was her bruised arm stretching towards his chest. "is get stronger!"

He felt the light touch of her hand, right over his heart, and the world jolted.