So as promised this chapter gives our main character a name as has been needed. We also get to see a familiar face as well!

It feels like years have passed on that gravestone, tears shed into stone itself leaving wet pools that dripped into the soil. Within those tears went his grief, and when he was done crying he could only lie there and stare down at the grass, counting each blade as his mind slugged through the post-crying haze.

There was a secret charm to getting lost in feeling sorry for oneself, and he thinks this might be the reason why so many people lost themselves into depression and ended up lazing through life half-aware in a dazed state. It was a hypnotic siren call, to just lie around pitying yourself and crying until there was nothing left inside you but a dull emptiness.

He's never been the type to pity though and he doesn't intend to start now. While it takes effort, he presses his palms to the stone and feels the cool rock grip the flesh before he pushes with all his might to force himself back onto his feet.

Through the trees comes in the last glimmers of the falling sun and he can barely make out his mother's name upon the gravestone. If he wanted to, he could pretend he had just imagined the name. But he doesn't want to pretend.

He doesn't have to look at the other grave names to know his own isn't here. Family graves go by each other and there is no grave close enough to be family.

Something feels strange in his chest, a tightness too dark to belong to him. Dark thoughts betray him as he contemplates why he doesn't have his own grave.

Could his family not even realize that he was dead? Did they not care, and that's why they didn't put his grave here? Were his memories… not real? Did he imagine that he was a Kurosaki, lost in some half-daze of being dead?

His teeth are grinding together so hard an ache forms in his cheeks and he has to force himself to stop and block out the thoughts. Thinking things like that wasn't going to help him. If he wanted to know the answers he was going to have to find them for himself, and sitting here thinking terrible things wasn't going to accomplish that.

It's then he realizes the couple he had been following has already left. He's left in this graveyard with no way to find his way home, except by sheer luck.

"This is just great…" he mutters to himself, kicking at the grass under his feet angrily. "This is what I get for getting so distracted."

But he couldn't dwell on lost chances, not when he had something far more important to work out. What his name was, how his family was doing, what he was going to do now. Those were the most important things to him and he had to find them out.

So instead of staying here amongst the bodies of the dead he makes his way out of the graveyard and down the path he came from.

Walking reminds him that his body still feels heavy, perhaps even more so. He's never cried so much before so he isn't sure if that's the cause of it but something niggles in his mind like a distant voice and tells him it isn't the case. There's something else causing this, and he's not sure whether that worries him or if it's some passing thing.

What he knows for certain is it's making his progress slower than before, and that aggravates him. A scowl forms its way onto his face as a result.

"I'm never going to get anywhere this slow…"

The path seems to stretch out longer than before, a massive winding road going out to the edge of the world far over the horizon. Thinks it's just a trick of the imagination and the moonlight.

Eventually he finds his way to where the man's cart was. The only evidence he was ever there is the indents of the cart in the grass and some scattered berries.

Once again his attention is captured by those red berries and he crouches down on the path to pick one up. Turns it this way and that in his fingers, seeing all the seeds on the berry and how it looks with the weird tuft of green on top.

He could almost remember what the name of it is but at the same time it eluded him as it did earlier.

"Those are strawberries, kid."

A deep voice says behind him, the suddenness of a voice actually speaking to him causing him to whirl around and drop the berry. Stares openly at the man standing in front of him, the man whose hair was a deep red under the moonlight, pulled back in a band that made it look like some kind of star imitation. Glasses hid the man's eyes from viewbbut they only seemed to accent the strange tattoos he had on his eyebrows.

He realizes he's gaping but he simply can't help it. Ever since he woke up he hasn't heard a single person speak to him, even though he's only seen three people. This man in his strange black uniform… he almost thought he was hallucinating.

Nevertheless his manners come back to him and he closes his mouth quickly.

"It's a… strawberry?" he asks confusedly, looking down at the berry he'd dropped. It looked sad and pathetic against the ground now, the fall not treating the rotting berry kindly.

He hears the man shifting in front of him and looks up to see him awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. Thinks perhaps he's not used to talking to people like him, or maybe people in general.

"Um, yeah. You know, people eat them?"

"Who are you?"

His question catches the man off-guard, though perhaps partially because of the rudeness of the question. He can't see the look on the man's face well enough to know if he's annoyed with it or not, after all maybe he was used to little kids interrupting him.

"Uh, isn't it proper to introduce yourself first?"

At this he blushes and looks down, playing with the sleeve on his shirt nervously. "I… I'm Kurosaki… I don't know my first name…"

There's an uncomfortable silence now and when he peeks up to look at the man he's shifting his balance as though unsure of what to say.

The man clears his throat after a few moments of silence. "Well, alright then. I'm Abarai Renji, I'm a Shinigami."

"A… Shinigami…?" he tests the word, unsure if he can believe this or not. A god of death? Did that mean… "You kill people?"

This time the man laughs at his question, as though it was ridiculous to ask. He feels irritable at that because he was asking a legitimate question.

"Well… haha… no, no, we don't kill- well we do kill things but those are evil spirits. You look like a good spirit. The only thing we do to good spirits is send them on," the man replies with a wide grin. It looks almost feral on him and for a second he wants to run away.

"Send on? Does that mean you're…. here to send me on?" he asks, eyes widening.

"Well, yeah. I mean if I don't send you on there's a chance you'll end up getting eaten and that would be terrible," he says as though he's seen it before. The spirit can't help but be reminded of the thing that had killed him, of his fear it would track him down to finish the job. The shudder can't be repressed.

"But I don't want to go on," he tells the man, feet backing off the path into the cool grass. "I have to find my family and remember what my name is."

The Shinigami is frowning now, looking closer at him than before. He thinks the man is really seeing him instead of just looking at him. "Look, that doesn't matter. You have to pass on; all souls have to pass on."

He shakes his head wildly in response, fear thrumming through his heart and into his limbs. "I can't pass on yet, I have to find my family!"

At this the Shinigami pulls out a wicked-looking sword and the fear explodes in his heart, he almost can't breathe it's so strong.

"W-wait, I don't want to die again!" he cries in his fear, stumbling steps back to put even more distance between them.

"Look I'm not going to kill you!" tattoo-man growls at him, irritation clear in his voice.

He doesn't want to listen to this man with the scary blade though, and so he whirls around and runs across the grass as fast as he can before he can cut him.

Behind him he can hear the man shout for him to stop but he doesn't listen to him, keeps running instead. It's when he hears footsteps chasing him that the fear mounts further. Almost chokes him now and the feeling of nausea is chill in his veins.

His body hasn't recovered its strength though and he trips over a rock jutting out of the ground, falling face-first into the cool grass. Everything blurs and he can hear himself groaning as the world tilts back to its proper angle.

The man is standing over him and pointing his sword at him, mouth tight and steely, eyes still hidden behind those glasses.

Nausea overwhelms him and his body spasms as he throws up. This time there's no food but a white substance that pours out of his mouth and clings to his body like a second skin. He can see through the substance the man is backing away and he hears a horrified shout.

Then it overcomes his face and feels like a second face over his own and the top of his head feels weighted down, he almost can't keep his body from dropping back onto the ground.

Despite it he forces himself to stand on shaky limbs.

"Fuck, you're a Hollow!?" the Shinigami roars at him in disgust. The tone strikes a chord within him, causes his mouth to curl nastily and a rumbling growl thrums out his throat.

The blade is coming towards him almost in slow motion and he has enough time to jump over it, something far more agile than he's ever believed his body can accomplish. It comes again immediately after and this time he's ready and catches the blade in his hand, twists to force it out of the man's hand and it ends up flying through the air to land in the grass.

While the man is distracted grabbing for his sword he takes the time to run, quicker this time. Now his body doesn't feel like it's weighted down in lead, in fact it feels light, weightless and it's easy to simply run across the grass.

He's even able to jump into the trees and run from branch to branch with no effort at all, disbelief drawing a laugh from him and he nearly topples off the tree at the deep and echoing sound.

Thinks it must have something to do with what happened with the Shinigami, and he remembers what he was running from to begin with, having gotten distracted with his newfound strength. There's no footsteps after him and he thinks he must have given the man the slip.

That calms his stuttering heart and he lets himself drop down to the forest ground and finally relax.

And then he realizes he's lost himself in the forest and the panic starts all over again.

Something deep in him responds to the panic, feels like something is whispering in his ear from inside him. It's muffled but there though he doesn't understand what it's saying.

His body responds though and before he knows what's going on he finds himself lunging into the air and hovering there. This time there's nothing he can do to stop the startled scream because he's hanging in the air and he's going to fall.

That something is there again and it feels like he's being scolded for his fear. He swallows it down and pays more attention to what's going on, to the way it feels there's ground underneath him and he isn't falling like he'd thought.

Whatever had guided him was gone now and he's disappointed he wasn't able to thank it for its assistance. It's only when he's walking through the air and looking at the forest under him and searching out the lights of the city that he realizes with horror that something had responded to him.

He's not sure how to take the idea that something might be inside him that wasn't him. Instead he simply files away the information to look at later. Right now he needs to track down his home with this new birds-eye view of the world, he can't stand here and think about what might have helped him.

It isn't long at all before he's found the lights of the city and is walking over the buildings below him. He can see the school he went to from here, although it doesn't help him pinpoint where his home is. Doesn't let it get him down though because with this he can check a lot of the city at once and find his home quicker.

The moon shines down on him through the clouds and he smiles back at it. It feels like a friend, the first thing that had greeted him when he woke into this dead life. Once more it feels like the moon was blessing his endeavors and he felt like he couldn't possibly fail now.

His back keeps being brushed, but he pushes it off as the wind. It was stronger this high up than it was normally on the ground.

He's more distracted when he realizes what he's looking at is his home. His home he had feared he'd never see again.

The excitement turns into horror when the ground beneath him gives out and he falls through the air to the ground. It feels like his entire body has shattered upon impact and he can't even cry in pain as his mind swims through near-consciousness.

When he comes to he's on his back staring up at the sky through wavering eyes, vision dimmed from pain. It goes away slowly as he watches the clouds moving through the sky until he's able to muster up enough strength to sit up.

Twinges of pain bolt through his spine and he cringes and closes his eyes tight to block it out. When he's managed that he ambles to his feet, limbs trembling and nearly giving out under him.

His gaze is on the ground, his mind dazedly picking out pieces of what looks like white porcelain around him. Muses over whether someone's dropped a teacup set here today.

He forgets the pain when he remembers what had distracted him and caused his fall in the first place. Pain bursts through him as he whirls around to stare at his home.

The pain is bared with a grimace as he walks through the fence around his house, walking up the walkway to his front door. He almost knocks on the door out of habit but stops himself at the last second when he remembers it wouldn't have mattered either way. After all, he was a spirit and he'd probably end up just going through the door as it was. Even if he hadn't no one would have heard his knock.

So he foregoes common courtesy and walks straight through the door.

"I'm home…" he whispers softly, ears straining to pick up any noise within the house that wasn't his own.

It was like everything that had happened was a dream and he was coming home from being out too late, he could delude himself into believing his mother was going to come down the door with his father clomping down the stairs right after her. That his mother would give him her scolding glare at being out so late while his father laughed it off and said it was just what normal children did when they were feeling rebellious.

He could delude himself, but he wouldn't. Tears brimmed in his eyes but he didn't let them fall, not here where he was so close to knowing everything he needed to know.

It takes a few minutes to reign in his emotions. All that remains of his turbulent emotional state is a tremble in his body, and even that was going away.

The house is silent in the night, everyone must be asleep. That was rather good though because it meant no one would get in the way of him rifling through things.

His first destination is the kitchen, mostly because he's worried how his family has been eating since he and mother died. He still doesn't know if he's supposed to be able to interact with objects in the physical world, so he's stuck poking his head into the fridge and the pantry to check on what's in them.

It looks more desolate than what he remembers, perhaps because mother had always been the one to get the food for them. Yuzu would probably pick up the slack; she had shown a fondness for mother's cooking since she could first understand what cooking was. At least he hoped she would be able to, he didn't think his father would do it well enough.

When he pulls his head out of the fridge he notices the note stuck on the door. The other things stuck to the door are pictures of the family, of himself smiling wide at the camera along with his sisters. Some are of mother and father together, others only have mother or father with them. All of them are happy and smiles, he wonders if they're that way now.

The note isn't that big but it's the only paper on the fridge and so it catches his attention rather easily. His father's messy scrawl is on it, something about doctor's having terrible handwriting his father had always claimed. Although personally he thought the man was making an excuse because he couldn't write well.

Take Ichigo and the girls to Masaki's grave.

A simple note, something his father must have wrote down just to remind himself because the man was constantly forgetting things. While before mother would tell him if he was forgetting something he didn't have that crutch now and this was probably his father's way of coping with things.

But wait. Ichigo? He looks hard at the pictures on the fridge, eyes widening as the realization starts to hit him.

He was Ichigo. Kurosaki Ichigo, his name. It wasn't strawberry like people teased though, it was 'one who protects'. He remembers because the difference is all in the kanji. Remembers shouts at other children teasing about his hair color and his name.

A wide smile breaks onto his face as he clings to the fridge's handle, grip tight on it. He knew what his name was now; he was Kurosaki Ichigo. The intense relief rushing through him has him leaning his forehead against the fridge, breathing in and out slowly to allow the happiness to fully sink in.

He can't even control himself as he rips away from the fridge and hops right over the table, shoes pounding silently against the floor as he runs through the living room and straight up the stairs. Not sure what he wants to do right now but he thinks he might go to his sisters to hug them and tell them how much he loves them despite the fact they can't see or hear him.

There are several doors up here and he knows each of them by heart. On one door was a plaque that read "Yuzu and Karin" and the one opposite it read "Isshin and Masaki". The door furthest from the stairs read "Ichigo".

He's not sure why but the door attracts his attention and he can't help but be drawn towards it, walking straight through it into the room that was his. The bed is still there and there are toys and books scattered around the room, but something feels off. There's something wrong here that isn't what he remembers, something big and important he can't remember but he doesn't let that bother him.

Seeing his toys again excites him and he wants to play with them all over again even though he knows he can't interact with them as he is. There's a shifting sound of blankets moving and a soft whimper from a definitely male voice, causing him to freeze and stare around with wide eyes.

A lump on the bed attracts his attention and he feels angry that someone would dare sleep in his bed as if they owned it, just because he was dead didn't mean someone could take what was his as if he'd never existed.

He moves towards the bed to give this person a piece of his mind, hand reaching out to grab the blanket and pull it away, thinking that perhaps it's emotions that make him able to touch things because wow he'd moved the blanket and then his mind freezes.

The face that's slack in sleep is his own. He's lying down in his own bed and sleeping as if there's nothing wrong in the world and he can't understand what he's looking at, that's him right there but he was also here. He was dead, who was this person that dared take his looks and his place? He was going to kill them for this!

The voice from inside him is rising up in response to his anger, whispering in his ear that he should take his hands to this imposter boy and rip his arms off and then his legs. Then the rest of him could be taken apart piece by piece.

His hand hovers over the boy's face, tilting his head as he listens intently to the voice's suggestions and when he moves his hand closer to actually touch him there's a sudden scream in the room.

"Kurosaki Hideaki, you leave your brother alone!"

A startled gasp tears from him as he rears back from the bed and the fake on it, hand going over his heart to press hard at it to get his heartbeat back to normal and his breathing to even out once again. Where had mother's scream come from?

He looked around in alarm, searching for his mother in the dark room but he couldn't see her. Had she been there at all?

He hears her again, this time from out in the hall. She sounds scolding and he worries she's angry at him for his dark thoughts.

"You apologize to your brother right now young man; it's mean of you to steal his toys."

Feet take him into the hall and down the hallway towards the stairs and when he peeks down the stairs to look at the living room he can see the faint outline of his mother and two small boys on the floor. Both of the boys look exactly like him and he can't understand why that is.

One of them is scowling up at mother with his arms crossed; refusing to listen to what she's telling him. In one of his hands is a small toy car the other boy is staring at intently with tears in his eyes.

Mother gives the scowling boy a sharp, reprimanding glare.

"You know we got that toy for your brother, you don't even like cars. Look, your father and I even got you your own Lego set just like you asked for. But if you're going to be a bad child we won't give it to you…"

At this the boy looks alarmed and instantly holds out the toy car to the other boy who takes it and holds it tight against his chest as though the angry boy will take it away again.

Eyes turning away, the boy tightens his crossed arms and mutters under his breath. "'M sorry Ichigo…"

The other boy nods slowly and bites at his lower lip. "It's okay Hideaki…"

And then mother is clapping her hands and turning away from them. "Okay, that's much better! Now Hideaki why don't you come with me and we'll look at that Lego set."

The room is dark once again, the memory fading as quickly as it had arrived. He's not sure what could cause a memory to physically appear but that's not important to him right now.

Who were those two boys? Why did both of them look exactly like him? Why… why would two people look exactly alike?

And then the answer hits him, something so simple. It came from the whisper in his ear that sounded impatient with him.

Twins, identical twins. He was one of a pair of invisible twins. His heart is beating faster now, confusion making it hard to breathe once more.

Twins. Twins. Like Yuzu and Karin, except they looked exactly alike. Why was there only one bed? Why were there only pictures of one boy?

He can't wrap his mind around this. He's lived in this house for nine years of his life and now that he looks around there's no sign of the existence of any boy but one here. It's as if Kurosaki… Kurosaki Hideaki, which he now accepted he was, had never existed at all. The only proof he was real was that he was standing here staring down into his living room.

Were they… ignoring he had existed? Had they decided the pain of his death had been too much to stand to the point they simply wrote him out of existence entirely to cancel out the pain?

That seemed strange considering his father still had pictures of mother everywhere. Why was he the one ignored and not her?

He walks back down the hallway to his old room, noting wearily that the plaque should say "Ichigo and Hideaki". They'd also gotten rid of the special plaque mother had made for them. His heart hurt now more than it had at any point since he had awoken in the river, lost and left forgotten by everyone.

To have your entire existence denied by your own family was something he had never contemplated before. He had imagined they would feel terrible he had died, they would be upset and broken at losing not only him but mother as well. This he had never believed possible, had never thought his family had it in them to deny his very existence.

There's a feeling curling in his stomach that feels heavy and weighted down. He's not sure what this feeling is but it makes his blood boil and his fingers curl into fists. Nails dig into his palms and he glares down at the sleeping boy on the bed, sleeping soundly and innocently without a care in the world for his dead brother who had struggled just to make it here.

He wanted to strike him, to make him feel the pain Hideaki was feeling right now. Yet he couldn't bring himself to do it. Mother wouldn't have wanted him to attack her other son, no matter what Ichigo had done to his brother's memory.

Bile rises in the back of his throat and he wants to throw up. The mirror in the corner of the room catches his eye and he stares in horror at the reflection. It was a mockery of everything he had ever been and the testament of what he'd become. He fled from the image, straight out of the house that had been his home his entire lifetime.

Out of everything he'd ever known, blindly ran and didn't look back once.

Yeah I'm going to assume that I probably tricked most people on who the main character actually was. Probably thought it was Ichigo, as Hideaki himself mistook himself as. (And for those of you wondering, Hideaki is my name for Hollow Ichigo. So it's not just a random OC that I made up on the spur of the moment)

If there's any questions or comments on the chapter I'm free to listen to anything as usual. Hopefully you're enjoying the fic as it is so far.