Author's Note: Chapter 1 was edited for many typos and errors. I also changed Hiyori's dialogue; she mentions the name Shiba, but Ichigo thinks she's referring to some obscure celebrity that he doesn't know.

Make sure to read Kubo's recent Hell arc chapter to fully appreciate this chapter.

The light dimmed, and Ichigo's feet met solid ground. A floor—wooden boards varnished a rich burgundy-brown. He was standing in a traditional square room the size of a large hall, over fifty yards wide and long. There was a double-door centered in each wall. At the middle of the room was a tiny desk.

Behind the desk sat a… teenage girl. She was sleeping, her feet on the desk. Her black outfit was similar to Rukia's except a lot more revealing. Her skirt barely passed for a skirt, and her top was purposefully tied in a way to accentuate her cleavage and slim belly. Her skin was sun-tanned. She wore her long blonde hair in a pony tail, strands of her hair touching a Katana resting against the chair.

As Ichigo stepped toward the desk, he noted he was dressed in a gray robe that ended at his knees, not very unlike a bathrobe, nothing underneath. His footwear was Geta sandals, same as Rukia's and this girl's.

"Hello," he said in a deep voice.

The girl jolted awake and sat up straight. Her eyes were light-topaz. "Oh, hello there." Her voice was lively and playful. "I'm Yuyu Yayahara, your spirit guide to the Soul Society. You must have a lot of questions right now, but please hold your tongue and listen. Right now you are in the Sorting Room. The door behind me leads to North Rukongai. To my right is West Rukongai. South to my left, and East behind you—"

"Shouldn't it be East to your left?" Ichigo blurted.

"No, it is definitely South to my left and East behind you, trust me." Yuyu passed him a paper slip. North was written on it with numerals for seventy-three. "The person before you was sent to West Runkongai, so you'll be going North. The number is the district, ranging from one to eighty; it's random, sorry to say. But the good news is, if you're expecting family members, friends, or loved ones, you may wait here for up to a day, and you can go together, otherwise you will have to seek each other out. Did you get that?" Her eyelashes batted, very appealing.

"Ye— Yeah," he stuttered. "But I was sent here by Rukia Kuchiki. She said she's going to take me to the Sei… The capital city."

Yuyu's eyes unfocused. She was tapping her chin with her index finger. Her nails were sharpened to points. "I don't have any special orders. What's your name?"

"Ichigo Kurosaki," he said proudly.

"Mmmm, nope, don't recall."

"Are you sure? Rukia said she'd give my name to her superiors."

"Oh, did she? Why?" Yuyu's head tilted.

"Because of my spirit energy. She was impressed."

Yuyu leaned toward him, unblinking. Her gaze held a strange, animalistic intensity. "Ah, I see. You're holding in your spiritual pressure right now, aren't you? You're pretty good at it. Not as good as me, but pretty good."

He nodded.

She smiled. Her teeth were flawless. "In that case, I suggest you wait here for a while."

"Fine." Sitting on the floor, he tried to not scowl. He ate a breath of tasteless air, which did nothing for his hunger, and closed his eyes, relaxed into a meditating posture. He focused only on his pulse and a blank concrete wall in his mind's eye. One minute passed, then two, three, four, five… He didn't know how much time had passed when a ringing bell broke his concentration.

Yuyu was saying, "Yoohooo, are you there?"

"What is it?"

"It's been an hour. Did Rukia say when she's giving us your name?"

"No."

A little bored, Yuyu hummed a long breath. "She should've said something by now."

"But I Just came through."

"It takes a few days to pass through. To you it felt instant. Rukia should have sent a Hell Butterfly and—"

"A Hell what?"

"Butterfly. We use them for communication. Like this one. It's from the Seireitei."

He looked up, saw a black butterfly sitting on her outstretched finger. Wings fluttered, and it flew off, becoming more and more transparent until it entirely vanished, leaving only glittering black dust.

"What's the message?" he asked.

"That… One, Rukia didn't send any Butterflies recently. And two, you should go on ahead into the Rukongai. For someone of your level, you should be able to find your own way to the Seireitei with ease. Just head south and you'll eventually end up there."

He sprang onto his feet, eyed the paper slip she had given him. North seventy-three. Districts numbered from one to eighty. Seventy-three had to be really far from the Seireitei.

They were testing him.

He welcomed it. "Fine by me." He strode toward the door with a slow confident gait.

As he walked past Yuyu, her delicious milky-sweet perfume wafted up his nose, and he peeked down her top. She didn't wear any underclothing. Her breasts were nice and perky. The edges of her light-pink aerolas were clear in view to him, to anyone taller than her. She was only of average height for girls. He inhaled another breath of her scent. His mouth watered.

Blushing, he immediately tore his eyes away. What the hell was happening to him? Just because he was dead, in the afterlife, he was starting to think it was fine to act this way. Even if the girls here tended to dress so provocatively, it was unbecoming of him. But did they all dress like this? Was this the Soul Society norm?

It didn't matter.

He took a deep breath and cleared his mind of these unhelpful desires.

Double doors opened before him, unveiling a wall of solid white light. The paper slip disintegrated as it entered North Rukongai District 73.

Muscles in his torso clammed up, for the scenery in front of him was not quite what he had imagined—exactly the opposite.

He stood in front of a stone shrine of sorts, more or less a pillar of grayish-white rock. Patterned carvings and inscriptions were faded in decades of erosion. This shrine was the most impressive thing in sight. Houses were mostly two floors tall, poorly constructed from uneven planks haphazardly nailed together. Dwellings were tightly packed together with no privacy in between; fences and yards didn't exist here. Roofs were all olden-style shingles or just thatched. Glass windows didn't exist either—just rectangular holes in thin walls. Roads were compacted dirt, not one car in view. No power poles.

Back in the living world, even the countryside wasn't this primitive.

An old man with a branch for a cane was walking by. Barefoot, he wore a torn robe similar to Ichigo's, and the look on his wrinkled face was one of concealed hostility, as though sizing up an opponent before a fight. Ichigo wasn't going to hurt an old man, but he would defend himself if needed.

Only if needed. Only defense.

The old man cut eye contact and kept on walking.

Further away, a younger man was carrying a large basket on his shoulder. Also in a robe. Also barefoot. Same with other passer-byers. A few women wore the same clothing, nothing revealing like Rukia or Yuyu. And same with a few children playing ball by a well in front of a what looked to be a flower shop. Pots dangled beneath an overhanging roof, shielding wilted plants from the midday sun. And the sun was dimmer and more yellow, giving this world a macabre look of sickness, like staring into the eyes of a jaundiced man on his deathbed.

Ichigo caught the eye of a brown-haired teenage girl of similar age. She was slim and pretty, but poverty had clearly worn her down. Dark bags hung under her wary eyes.

She pulled her robe tighter around her chest as she subtly withdrew into a defensive posture. "What do you want?"

"Nothing."

"Then go away." She glared.

He walked on. Evidently, not all girls here were like Rukia and Yuyu. It was ridiculous to think they all were.

While Ichigo walked aimlessly, he lost count of all these old blackened blood stains on walls, signs of neighborly violence everywhere. He began growing accustomed to suspicious glances. Suspicious because his clean untorn clothing gave him away as a newcomer. A potential target.

Not one person was in black Shinigami attire or carried a Katana.

Not one building was a food shop. Food looked to be a precious scarce resource for these poor people. Medieval living standards after all.

Still, hunger was continuously chewing Ichigo's insides. He hadn't eaten since breakfast, nearly twelve hours ago. And for only twelve hours, he was hungrier than usual, understandably. It had been quite a day.

At a single-story building near a wooden clock tower, Ichigo at last found a place serving hot tea. A dozen elderly were gathered inside. Two short-haired teenage boys sat the corner, who promptly noticed Ichigo. They smiled, eyes warm, and waved him over. Their faces were similar. Maybe brothers.

Finally some friendly souls.

Ichigo returned the smile. "Hey, I'm Ichigo."

"Yuta."

"Touya."

Ichigo sat next to Yuta. The smell of unwashed clothing wasn't too offending. "I just arrived in Soul Society, as you can see."

Their eyes were innocently wide. Apparently they hadn't assumed that. "I guess that explains your new clothes," Yuta said. "If I were you, I'd sell them and get second-hand robes." A good idea.

"It's what we did," Touya added, pouring a cup of tea for Ichigo.

"How much can I get for mine?" Ichigo asked mostly out of curiosity.

"For robes and sandals your size," Yuta said, "a few thousand Kan at least."

Ichigo's eyebrow arched. "How much is one Kan worth?"

"About five Yen, give or take one or two," Touya said with fair confidence. "It's not an exact comparison. I take it you've noticed technology is much worse?"

"Yeah," Ichigo exhaled.

Yuta nodded. "It was huge shock. The Shinigami who Konso'd me said I was going to a better place." His words had a bitter undertone. He sighed. "But I guess I didn't have a choice, did I? It was either that or turning into a Hollow."

So Rukia had been telling the truth.

Ichigo gulped hot tea. It was extremely dilute. Basically hot water. It helped satiate his hunger a little. "A Hollow killed me. What do—"

"Lucky you weren't eaten," Yuta said.

"Eaten? How would that be different?"

Yuta looked at Ichigo straight-on. "When a Hollow eats you, your soul is consumed and digested. You become part of the Hollow. You were lucky it didn't bite your head off and swallow."

Ichigo's grip on the tea cup slackened. The thought of himself or his sisters and father losing their souls for all eternity was chilling to the bone. How could such monstrous beasts exist? He calmed himself as his control over his spiritual power was about to slip. "Then I should be thankful that the Shinigami intervened just in time."

He owed Rukia so much more. His soul. More than his soul. Everything.

Yuta shrugged. "I guess."

"Hey," Touya said in a brighter tone, "you're alive and well now, and that's all that matters. It's a new a life. A fresh start." He put on a cheesy grin. "Let's get you some ripped second-hand robes. My friend will pay extra for your size."

Come to think of it, some money in the pocket would very much help. A few thousand Kan may cover food costs for perhaps weeks to months, hopefully enough time to get to the Seireitei. He was optimistic. Truly, this was a fresh start of a bright future.

"You're right," Ichigo said, "afterwards, let's get a proper lunch, on me."

They both were frowning. "Why would you want lunch? Are you hungry?" Yuta asked.

Ichigo froze his tongue. Were they not hungry? No, it wasn't just that; their reactions were bordering the extreme, almost angry… as if… lunch were not a normality here in the Soul Society. Eating food wasn't a normality. Only Ichigo was hungry here—an abnormality. This was the exact reason why there were no food shops or street vendors.

Instinct made Ichigo play ignorant: "Actually no, now that I think think about it. Souls don't get hungry?"

They seemed to buy it. "Only those with a lot spirit energy," Yuta explained. "Everyone has a little bit in their body, but only those with a lot can get hungry. You see, everything in this world is made of Reishi. It's not the regular matter in the living world. Things work differently here."

"That's amazing," Ichigo said in earnest.

"Sure is," Touya said. "Our lifespans are way longer too. We're younger for much longer. Our bodies are more resilient to sickness and injury. It really is heaven, even though it's not all angels and rainbows." He stood up, jerked his head leftward. "Let's go."

Ichigo followed them outside. With these two, camouflaged by their poverty, he received far fewer hostile looks. Though he still stood out. He had only seen only a few persons with bright orange hair. He was still taller than average as well. Some things weren't going to change.

For thousands of steps, they trekked downhill into a dilapidated part of town. Many dwellings, over a third, had severely damaged walls and roofs. Thatched roofs were the vast majority. Rubble and piles of dirt were increasingly common by the step. Souls loitering here were uglier, sicker, and meaner faced. Some wore tattoos. Others were missing limbs. Almost everyone sported scars—cuts, stabs, the usual.

These people weren't in heaven. To them, this was something a thousand times worse than the living world.

"Careful," Yuta said, "some bad souls live around here."

"I can see," Ichigo mumbled.

Yuta showed him a makeshift weapon strewn together with string. A shank. "Relax, you're safe with me."

Ichigo could say the same.

They came to a small warehouse-like building. Its walls had been patched up several times. The roof was partly thatched, partly shingled. Inside loitered two dozen teenagers and children. Ichigo counted six teenage boys and girls of similar age, not including Yuta and Touya.

"Kenji, look here," Yuta called.

The eldest of the lot stood up, attention on Ichigo. He was tall, gaunt-faced. Sandy-brown hair. He grabbed something from under the table, a sheathed Katana.

The other teenagers had taken out shanks and knives.

Alarm spiked up Ichigo's chest.

Touya backed away.

Yuta was holding his shank with both hands, pointing it at him. His eyes were fierce but gave away guilt and nervousness. The tip of his shank was shaking. "His name's Ichigo."

"Good job," Kenji said, "very good job." His voice was deep. "Take off your clothes and sandals. Someone get him a replacement." Children moved behind him, rummaging through boxes.

Ichigo blamed himself more than Yuta and Touya. It had been an obvious trap the second they had led him to this part of town. Poverty and desperation came hand in hand. They were only trying survive in this medieval world.

"Did you not hear me? Take off your clothes, Ichigo," Kenji said. "Don't try anything stupid, we have you surrounded." He unsheathed the Katana. He pointed it at Ichigo from a distance. His stance was rigid. His grip was awkward at best. His bare feet were too close together. "Do you know what this is?"

"A Katana," Ichigo said calmly, shifting his feet into a fighting stance.

Arrogantly Kenji raised his chin. "Shinigami call this a Zanpakuto. The greatest weapon in Soul Society. So don't dare try anything. You'll be dead before you know it."

If any of these kids held any real power, they would already be heading toward the Seireitei. Kenji would be using it now, but he emitted no spiritual pressure, although he could be suppressing himself. Minuscule chance.

"Listen," Kenji said. "Cooperate and you can stay with us. Trust me, you won't last ten days alone. Soul Society's not a friendly place. I'm trying to help you, Ichigo."

Yuta poked Ichigo's arm with his shank. "Do what he says."

To Kenji, Ichigo said, "With that Zanpakuto, why don't you become a Shinigami? Go to the Seireitei and learn to control you power."

Cracks in Kenji's resolve emerged. He bluffed: "And why should I? They're nothing but bandits and degenerates. Their leaders treat their subordinates like pieces of trash while they risk their lives fighting Hollows. I wouldn't ever want to be one of them."

Ichigo closed his eyes for a heartbeat. "Then I'm sorry."

"You're sorry? You think we're going to just let you leave with—"

Ichigo spun around, punched Yuta in the nose. At the same time, he unleashed the full force of his spiritual pressure on this warehouse. As a soul, he found the magnitude of his power was far, far greater, and control came easier. Weapons fell to the floor. Knees bent. Girls screamed, and boys yelled. The younger ones had it the worst; Ichigo's couldn't look while they suffered.

Struggling to breathe, Kenji was belly-down on the floor. He was turning as pale as a Hollow's face.

Ichigo walked up to him. "I'm sorry because the Shinigami have already selected me to join their ranks. My first test is to find my own way to the Seireitei. I'm sorry that you've been caught in this." He lessened the pressure by a fraction.

Color returned to Kenji's face as he took in air. "Please," he begged, "please leave the others out of this. Don't hurt them."

Ichigo picked up the Zanpakuto and its scabbard. "I'm not going to hurt anyone, but I'm going to take this. One day I'll come back here and repay you, I promise."

"Take it," Kenji wheezed, "take it and go. Please."

Ichigo turned his back, then casually strolled out of the warehouse as if he weren't leaving children unconscious in his wake. Many of them were younger than his own sisters. He wished Kenji the best, that he can protect his friends without this Zanpakuto. It didn't seem to be any good in powerless hands anyway.