With steady steps Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at /works/16757206.

Rating: Mature Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Category: Gen Fandom: Bleach Character: Kurosaki Ichigo, Hollow Ichigo, Zangetsu (Bleach), Aizen Sousuke,

Urahara Kisuke, Shihouin Yoruichi, Muramasa (Bleach), Unohana Retsu

Additional Tags: Tags to be added, I have no idea where this is going, but it seemed like a good idea, Ichigo goes back in time, Time Travel, Fix-It, Sort Of, Aizen teaches ichigo because I really really wanted to see that happen, self- indulgence at its greatest, Ichigo has both his blades in this, Quincy war is not even a thing because no, Accidental Time Travel, seriously, ichigo wonders why this is his life, Aizen will live, because i have a massive soft spot for him, So sue me, (don't actually... i'm a poor college student), lol not anymore, this fic has taken me so long I graduated and everything, but pls don't sue me still, do not copy to another site, Dad!Aizen, because that's a tag now..., redemption if you squint, but really let's call it Ichigo-protag-halo, DADZEN

Language: English Series: Part 1 of Go wisely and slowly. Those who rush stumble and fall. Collections: There are no words for this beauty, Works Worth Rereading, Why must

you torture me with these good fics?, Himeno's Favorites , wwwwwww, Best of Space/Time-travel fix-it's, Eatbook's Cherished and wanting more All Fandoms, cauldronrings favs ( • ̀ ω • ́ ), Free Dopamine , Sylver's Star Fics, Bleach Fav Fics, Dreamon's Fics Recs For You Lazy Ass Shit, Juricii's Collection of Various Stories

Stats: Published: 2018-11-27 Updated: 2023-03-07 Words: 127,114 Chapters: 30/52

With steady steps by LadyKG

Nine

The world disappeared in a flash of golden light, bright enough to make his eyes burn. It forced them shut as the sensation covered his entire body. He opened his mouth to scream at the pain – more intense than anything he'd felt before – but the sound was lost in the silence that weighed thick inside the light.

The world disappeared in a flash of golden light, there and gone so suddenly Ichigo feared whatever Orihime did hadn't worked. Months without his zanpakuto left him empty in a way he hadn't known was possible. When she had come to him with determined eyes and set shoulders Ichigo had felt hope for the first time since Aizen fell. So long as his resolve was strong enough, she had said, it should work. So long as he was willing to push, and demand that the world bend before him. She could help, could open the way, she said, but he would have to do the rest.

The world disappeared in a flash of golden light, and Ichigo felt his stomach roll as it was replaced by darkness, a sick pressure making his skin feel entirely too tight.

He opened his eyes to his room – hadn't they been at Urahara's shop? – rays of diluted sunlight coming through his window. He opened his eyes with the thrum of reiatsu under his skin. His heart skipped a beat, and then another as the realization that it worked was abruptly pushed aside because he couldn't breathe.

With reaching hands – too small, his mind supplied – he pulled the window by his bed open, hoping that the fresh air would start his lungs. It didn't. His skin became tighter with each passing moment, like he had pulled on clothes two sizes too small. He tore at his shirt, ripping at the fabric in the hope that it would help. That the pressure would just disappear.

He really should be careful what he wished for.

With another flash, this time red and black, he was sent across the room. His back hit the wall with a resounding crack, but he couldn't bring himself to care about the ache in his shoulders from the impact – the pressure was gone and that was all that mattered. The pressure was gone and his reiatsu curled around him as if to welcome him home.

There were footsteps coming down the hall, rushed with an urgency that Ichigo couldn't care for as he was pulled into his inner world. For a moment he felt vertigo, his vision clearing slow to take in his surroundings. The sideways buildings that greeted him made him laugh high and wild with joy that crashed into him like a wave. They shined in unnatural light, bright in a way that shouldn't be possible as an ocean lay somewhere beneath his feet. The air was charged, practically burning with the amount of reiatsu filling the space, it left his head dizzy. A high that he had never experienced before, even in battle. When he had first entered his inner world, the landscape felt hollow, void of all life. But now. Now, that he knew what it was like without it… Months. Months without his powers. Without the ability to protect his friends – to even see some of them. Without his zanpakuto. Empty. Empty and lost and now he wasn't. It felt too much like a dream.

A shift of fabric behind him had Ichigo turning with a grin on his face, excitement curling in his stomach. Months without his zanpakuto, months without the comfortable weight of a blade in his hands, but now-

Now, he was faced with a Zangetsu that he had to crane his neck back to see.

"Did you get taller?" He squinted up at the man, the words blurting from his mouth as he drank in

the sight of his spirit. Imprinted the sight in his mind and swore he wouldn't lose him again.

"Nah, you just shrunk, King." The voice had him spinning around, a scowl already on his face as he met the eyes of his inner hollow. Yellow and black, with a crazed glint that made his stomach drop.

"What the hell is he doing here?" Ichigo growled, reaching for a sword that wasn't there. Panic hit him for a moment; where was his sword? Why did he not have Zangetsu? Reiatsu swirled around him, caressed him, thick and there so why wasn't Zangetsu in his hand?

"There is much to discuss," Ossan said, moving to stand beside Shiro. "Like what exactly Orihime did."

Ichigo looked between the two, brows furrowed – they were taller, too tall from what he remembered. Either that, or- He looked down at himself for the first time, taking in his too-small hands, and how close the floor seemed to be.

"I'm-."

"Short."

"-a kid." Ichigo brought his hand up to his face, squinting at the offending appendage as if that would suddenly make it grow back to its normal size. Surely Orihime hadn't de-aged him like a bad plot straight out of some cheap manga. "What the hell is going on?"

"Orihime's powers are chaotic, and uncontrolled," Ossan said, "it would seem that this was an unintended consequence of trying to give you your powers back."

Ichigo laughed, running a hand through his hair, "So I've what? Turned back into a child?"

"In a way," Ossan hummed.

It wasn't that hard to put the pieces together, from the steady look Zangetsu was giving him to the way he had de-aged. It wasn't a far leap, considering all he had been through. Considering how even Urahara did not fully understand what Orihime could do; only that her powers were on par with a god. A real one, the kind that even Shinigami could not match. It was why he had agreed, had felt like there was a chance to gain Zangetsu again. It worked, in a way, just not how he expected.

"Time travel." It came out flat, a resigned acceptance chasing the words.

"It would seem you've been given a second chance."

Ichigo frowned, "Is that even possible? Doesn't that just… break the timeline?"

"Unlikely, since we weren't erased upon arrival."

Ichigo huffed a breath, eying Ossan with a skeptical gaze but not having any real proof that the spirit wasn't right, "Second chance, huh." He could stop Aizen, stop the war. Save his mom, if he was far enough back. He could fix everything.

Shiro's smile widened, becoming almost unnatural, "That's not even the best part, Kingy. Don't ya want ta know why I'm back?"

"Ichigo," Ossan said, drawing his gaze and attention before he could even respond. There was a

weight to his words that wasn't there before, "We did not bring you here only to discuss what your friend has done."

"Then what-."

"I am not Zangetsu."

A beat of silence, confusion catching any response in his throat as he looked at the spirit with wide eyes. He opened his mouth and closed it, unable to find any words for a moment. It didn't make sense. Of course Ossan was Zangetsu, he'd been Zangetsu this entire time; had been there when he found his powers, and been there when he fought his way into Soul Society, when he fought Aizen, and when he-. Ichigo swallowed, forcing his voice to work, "What are you talking about? Of course you're-."

"You must have noticed it." The spirit met his gaze steadily, "Whenever I taught you, or when your life was in danger, it wasn't my powers that helped you."

"That was all me," Shiro said on a laugh, high and manic with wild glee. Ichigo glanced at his hollow, his eyes just catching the glint of a blade in time to duck under a swing, and leap back a few feet, his stance at the ready. "With how much ass-saving I've done, I should be King."

"Not a chance," Ichigo bit back, his hands twitching for a sword that wasn't there. Ossan stepped forward, stopping whatever attack Shiro was planning next. It focused Ichigo back on what they had been discussing, back on what Ossan had said. He met the spirit's gaze, before he spoke, "I don't understand," his voice was strained, as it if wanted to come out on a shout, "if you're not Zangetsu, then who are you?"

"I am your quincy powers," Ossan said, calm but with a growing tension. "I tried to become the center of your powers, so I could suppress your growth and keep you away from the fights."

"Why?" The word came out on a growl, anger replacing the confusion and hurt – it was easier that way, to let the heat of his irritation burn away the betrayal, the pain at being lied to.

"To protect you," Ossan said, the words coming out simple as if they were supposed to be obvious. Simple like they shouldn't be able to punch Ichigo in the gut, to force the anger out in a rushed breath. "I told you before, what I want to protect is not the same as what you want to protect. So, I tried to stop you from becoming a Shinigami." The words burnt like the golden light from before, burnt and made something in him feel like it was snapping, "However, you eventually became a Shinigami anyway, and as I watched you train, suffer, and grow… I found myself helping you become stronger. Now, seeing you like this, I am happy to step back."

Ichigo watched in horror as Ossan started to dissolve, to disappear before his very eyes. Months. Months without his powers. He wasn't about to lose them again – any part of them.

"Wait!" He screamed, voice coming out cracked and high with youth as he reached out, desperation making him move faster. But not fast enough. What once was his zanpakuto spirit was now a sword he did not recognize.

"You have been fighting only with what strength I have not been able to suppress." Ossan's voice came from nowhere and everywhere at once, "That is your real zanpakuto. Take it and fight with your own strength, Ichigo."

He did not even have the choice to accept this new reality before everything started to shift. Anger bubbled inside him hot and fast. Quincy or not, Ossan had saved him enough times that Ichigo did

not care what the spirit said. The world around him began to crumble, but Ichigo did not care. Did not care as Shiro disappeared, did not care as his head pounded with each building that fell. He did not care, and he would be damned if Ossan thought that his words could stop Ichigo from keeping him.

"I don't care! I don't care who you are! I don't care who either of you are! You, and him," he cried out, knowing that they could both hear, as he grabbed the strange sword and pulled even as it dispersed into reishi, "I'm sure you're both Zangetsu. And I won't lose you again!" As he said the words any doubt that he may have had fell away, the assurance that what he had said was nothing less than right settling in his chest, familiar and heavy. His inner world became silent at the declaration. The destruction slowing. The buildings stabilized, and the headache started to recede. His breathe came in huffs, as his lungs tried to catch up with the exhaustion creeping over his body.

The world flashed again, only, this time there was no pain, no ache in his shoulders or burn in his eyes. Just a weighted calm, like relief, forming in time with the blades appearing in his hands. And the knowledge that Zangetsu was there.

Both of them.

The real world came into focus slow, each of his senses becoming aware one at a time. There were others in the room with him, he could hear their voices, muffled as they were. Quiet, he realized as his fingers twitched around the grip he had on Zangetsu. He could feel them. Both of them. Ossan's presence, steady and calm, in the smaller blade – a trench knife, really. Shiro's in the larger of the two; an encompassing bloodlust, eager for a fight in a way that Ichigo hadn't been able to feel since he lost them.

He took one more breath before he opened his eyes, letting the brightness of the room clear away as he found himself on his back; a ceiling he knew all too well meeting his gaze. The smell of old wood and warm tea bringing back far too many memories. So, they were at Urahara's.

"Ichigo," a voice he had not heard in years called his name. With his heart in his throat he turned his head, eyes wide as he took in the form of his mother. Took in her warm eyes, filled with a concern that made his chest clench. Took in her bright hair, pulled back in a messy bun. Took in her, alive and whole and not a bastardized manifestation by some hollow. She was alive. "Ichigo, how are you feeling?"

Time travel. He really had been sent back. He had thought, once, that he would not be able to face her again without his Shinigami powers – without the ability to protect, as his name so implied. But now, with her so close, he wasn't sure he wouldn't have been satisfied powers or not.

"Mom?" The word came out rough, the feeling of tears pricking at the edges of his eyes making him blink. He couldn't stop himself from throwing his arms around her even if he wanted to. The scent of vanilla shampoo and scratch of the sweater she wore against his cheek made his chest stutter out his next breath.

"Ichigo?" She asked, even as she returned the embrace, holding him tight. "What's wrong?"

She was alive.

She was alive and Ichigo would damn well make sure she stayed that way.

"Nothing," he said, muffled by her shoulder. "Nothing's wrong."

"Not that this isn't all very touching," Urahara said, the sound of his fan shutting making Ichigo glance over to meet grey eyes.

"Oh, stuff it, hat-an-clogs," Ichigo shot at the man before he could say anymore. There was no way in hell that he was going to let Urahara take this moment away from him. That he was going to let the man turn this into some kind of joke. Besides, the look of shock that briefly crossed the man's face was more than worth it – Kami knew the bastard had gotten that same reaction from Ichigo more than once.

And if there was a part, tucked away in the back of his mind, that spat fire at the man for leaving him, abandoning him after Ichigo's use had run out. When his powers laid in pieces after he attacked Aizen. The part of his mind that said if Orihime hadn't suggested anything, Urahara wouldn't have bothered with him again. And if that part of him felt a satisfaction in lashing out, well, he kept it to himself. Because he knew, for all that Urahara had not sought him out after the war, it was for Ichigo's own sake. Knew that the man wanted to help. Knew by the way Urahara's eyes had lit up when he and Orihime had asked to use his bunker. Knew by the way Urahara hadn't bothered with his fan as they told him about their plan. Knew by the way the man had agreed.

"Ichigo!" His mom exclaimed, indignation making her voice pitch high and loud, as she pushed him back to arms-length, "Apologize to Urahara-san this instant!"

Dutifully Ichigo apologized, but with how empty his voice came out he was sure it was received as insincere as he meant it.

"It's quite alright," Urahara said, his fan covering his face as he studied Ichigo. "As I was saying, we should focus on figuring out how this happened." The man snapped his fan shut, "His reiatsu seems to have stabilized when the swords appeared, but that shouldn't be possible." Urahara looked to his father, "You said you found him in that uniform."

His father nodded, "He was passed out against the wall."

Ichigo narrowed his eyes as they talked as if he wasn't even in the room, with a scowl he left them to it, walking back to his blades. He took hold of Shiro first, before realizing abruptly that he wasn't nearly tall enough to place the sword on his back. With a grunt he picked up Ossan to swing the blade onto his back, before inspecting Shiro once more. A moment passed before he realized that the room had fallen silent.

"Son," his father said, "do you know what those swords are?"

"They're my zanpakuto."

"Yes, they are, the question is how you have them." Urahara said, the smile in his eyes humored as he watched Ichigo's predicament, but sharp with calculation, "What's the last thing you remember, Ichigo-kun?"

Ichigo opened his mouth, but closed it again; should he tell them? Time travel wasn't exactly believable, he had to admit, even if it explained his reiatsu levels and appearance as a Shinigami. But what else could he say? That there was a big flash and suddenly he was as strong as a captain? That he can't remember anything at all?

He licked his lips, squared his shoulders and met Urahara's eyes with a flash of resolve. He was

never good at lying, anyway.

"Orihime and I were using the bunker to try and regain my Shinigami powers, but when she tried to reject… reject something, there was a flash of gold light and I was back in my room." He spoke clearly, let his emotions play across his face like he always had, because honesty was best backed up with willing openness and Ichigo needed them to believe him. Needed his parents to understand that whatever else happened he was no longer the same child they knew. "Only, I couldn't breathe and-." With a start he realized he hadn't seen his body since coming back, and that they hadn't placed him back into it while he was in his inner world. "Where's my body?"

His parents glanced at each other, even as Urahara's gaze remained steadily on his face. "Ichigo," he father started, "when you- your body, it's-."

"It's no longer habitable," hat-an-clogs supplied. "You soul was ejected from it because you have too much spiritual energy for it to contain."

Ichigo stared, his eyes moving from face to face as the information settled in. "I… died."

"Essentially, yes."

"Oh." He looked down at his hands, taking in the lack of callouses, the way his fingers curled and stretched. He died. He felt no different, really. Beyond the changes he always felt in his spirit form, there was no physical feeling of loss at not having a connection to his human body. And maybe that was worse. There were times, he had to admit, that it felt like he was dying. During the war, and after. But hearing it now. Knowing that he could not go back to his human life, now that his mother was alive, that his friends were safe. It was a slap in the face.

It seemed the universe really was full of irony.

Ichigo had pushed the world, demanded it give him what he had lost, and in turn it pushed back. Taken something even as it gave him more than he asked for – more than he knew he could ask for.

"The question is how you have so much reiatsu," Urahara said, drawing him from his thoughts.

"I told you." Ichigo frowned, "Orihime and I-."

"Were in the bunker, yes," Urahara interrupted him, "but who is Orihime, Ichigo-kun?"

"And what did you mean by 'regain' your Shinigami powers?" His mother asked, her voice strained.

Ichigo shifted, glancing back at his swords where they still laid on the floor and finding his strength, "I know it sounds crazy, but I'm from the future." The words simply spilled from him then. Coming fast as they all tripped over themselves to be said – his Mom's death, seeing spirits, Rukia, Aizen, the war, everything. It came out in a rush that he wasn't even sure made sense.

He wasn't sure he cared.

His mom was alive, his sisters and friends safe.

He had Zangetsu again.

Ichigo had pushed the world, and it had given way beneath a golden light.

Nine

Chapter Notes

Umm, so I didn't actually think about how long this fic would actually be… and now I'm kind of, maybe, anticipating it to be one of the longest – if not the longest – fics I've written so far… and just… shit. Welp. No turning back now! Also – the pairing I was really, kind of thinking about was GrimmIchi, but you all can convince me either way. (I'd even be down for Gen…). So if any of you guys have requests then please tell me in the comments! Also… I have a Massive, capital M needed, soft spot for a lot of characters in Bleach, particularly Aizen, so I'm going to leave it up to you guys as to what happens to him (live? Die? Etc…).

It took two days.

Two days for Soul Society to decide that sending someone to check out the strange reiatsu that had suddenly appeared in town was actually a good idea. Two days for Aizen to show up at Urahara's door step with another Shinigami that Ichigo didn't recognize in tow. Two days for him to say goodbye to his parents, and sisters.

Two days for Ichigo to decide that getting close to his enemy was the best way to take him down.

(His parents didn't like the idea. His mom practically glaring Urahara into submission when the blonde first brought up the fact Soul Society would come to investigate. It was only when Ichigo insisted, when he said he would visit as often as he could, and that he would be fine, that his parents reluctantly agreed.)

Aizen didn't even looked surprised to see him sitting in Urahara's shop, the bastard. Although he did lift an eyebrow at the Shinigami uniform and his zanpakuto. Ichigo simply stared back, forcing down his instinct to gut the man. He needed Aizen to show his true self before making a move – having the entirety of Soul Society after him wasn't an experience he wanted to repeat, after all.

"So this is the anomaly," Aizen said, a smile on his face that even felt warm despite its deception.

"A child…" the nameless Shinigami murmured, a frown tugging on his lips as he looked Ichigo over.

Aizen ignored the comment, taking a few steps forward into the shop, "What's your name?"

'Like you don't know,' Ichigo wanted to spit out. Instead he simply crossed his arms, a scowl on his face that looked anything but natural with his younger features, "Mom says it's rude to not introduce yourself first when asking for someone's name."

There was a poorly covered up snort of laughter from behind Ichigo, but Aizen's smile didn't even twitch. It could have been for the benefit of keeping his façade in front of the other Shinigami, yet Ichigo got the feeling that wasn't quiet it. "I am Aizen Sousoke, Captain of the Fifth Division of the Gotei Thirteen." The man paused, taking in Ichigo's flat stare, "I am a Shinigami."

Ichigo tilted his head, "Hat-and-clogs said you would come."

Aizen's gaze shifted from Ichigo, leaving him feeling light, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. That calculating gaze settled on Urahara, and Ichigo couldn't help but feel bad for him even as he showed no aversion to being under such a look.

"We didn't want him scaring off, now, did we?" Urahara said, his face still hidden behind his fan. There was very little doubt in Ichigo that it wasn't hiding a mocking smile. Ichigo schooled his features, forcing his eyes to go wide, as if he didn't understand what exactly the 'adults' were talking about.

"Aizen-taicho?" The other Shinigami asked, his voice attempting to be quiet in the tense room as the silence after Urahara's statement stretched.

It took way more effort than he thought it should to not roll his eyes. With a huff of breath, he rose to his feet, drawing the room's attention as he reached down and swung Shiro's blade so it rested on his shoulders, the sheer size forcing him to carry it by hand. Aizen took this in with a flat stare, and it made Ichigo feel a small amount of pleasure that he could put that look on the man's face.

"You're a duel wielder," Aizen said, his voice flatter than his gaze. And Ichigo swore that he heard a mutter, 'of course you are.' But he couldn't prove it as he didn't even see Aizen's mouth move. The moment passed, and Aizen easily regained himself, "Now, what do I call you?" The smile that accompanied the words looked soft, and warm. Ichigo really could understand how the man had fooled everyone if his acting was this good.

"Ichigo."

"Do you understand why I'm here, Ichigo?" Aizen took a few steps towards him, the other Shinigami hovering at the entrance.

Ichigo nodded, "I died." The words weren't as heavy on his tongue as they had been the first time. The loss was still there; the lingering sensation that left his chest tight as he thought of all that was given up – his family, his friends. The loss was still there, but the words came light and easy, as if they were a mere comment on the weather. "And you're here to take me to Soul Society."

Aizen almost seemed taken aback by how easily Ichigo announced it. Shouldn't dying bother humans? But the pause was short lived, "Yes." The man's gaze flickers to Urahara, but the blonde revealed nothing. Ichigo had to hold in a snort at that. Being a child had its perks, if he was being honest. Because children had no concept of what was and wasn't supposed to be possible – so playing dumb when he did or said something otherwise not expected would take him far. After all, he wasn't the best actor so trying to hide his skills or convince anyone that he couldn't follow along with what was happening around him wouldn't work. "We should be going," Aizen continued, eyes focusing back on him, "the other Captains are looking forward to meeting you."

"Really?" Ichigo shifted Shiro as he spoke.

"You've created quite a stir," Aizen told him, taking out his sword with a flourish he opened a seikamon in the center of Urahara's shop. Ichigo wasn't stupid, he knew that it was a power move – telling Hat-and-clogs that not only did Soul Society know where he was, but that they could enter his home at any time. As the door opened, Aizen turned back to him a hand held out in expectation.

Ichigo looked at the hand, then up at Aizen's too-soft-too-nice smile, before he scowled, "I'm nine," he said with a huff, "I don't need to hold hands."

"Of course," Aizen told him easily enough, the hand still not retracting, "but we wouldn't want you getting lost along the way."

He knew Aizen was lying. Knew because he had been through enough seikamon – legitimate and not. But he couldn't exactly say that. And… And Ichigo knew that keeping Aizen close, making the man believe that Ichigo suspected nothing – trusted him, even – was important. Really, for all that he didn't exactly want to give up his pride, he knew that now was not the time to base his decisions on such a thing.

So, with a scowl that was only growing, he reached out with his free hand and forced the way his skin felt sick with the sensation into the back of his mind.

Keep your enemies close, he repeated to himself. Let it cement his decision as Aizen led him into through the doors. A part of him itched to look back. To take in Urahara's shop once again, but that felt too much like a goodbye, and Ichigo had every intention of coming back.

He wouldn't let something as simple as Aizen's schemes stop him. Not again.

Ichigo shoved his thoughts to the side as the light of the seikamon encompassed them, the light blinding him for but a moment before Soul Society came into view. They were in the fifth division Ichigo realized with a start as he let his gaze wonder over their surroundings, noting absently that the Shinigami who accompanied them at flash-stepped away. He took in the old-fashioned homes and making note of those Shinigami he recognized and those he did not as they walked steadily towards the meeting hall.

It seemed they would be wasting no time in trying to figure out what to do with him, Ichigo thought with a mental snort. Although he had to say he wasn't sure what they would decide – he was different, something new, and he knew from experience that Soul Society didn't deal well with either of those - but it was a risk he was more than willing to take.

The hall doors slid open to the eyes off all the captains trained on him. The hall doors slid open to silence. The hall doors slid open with Ichigo's hand still firmly clasped in Aizen's and Ichigo realized with a start that the bastard was staking a claim as much as Ichigo was. But the thought was pushed aside so easily in the face of seeing his friends.

For the first time since entering Soul Society his steps hesitated, because there was a tight bundle in his chest that felt so much like frustrated anger it left him staggering. Because these people had dropped him, had left him the second Aizen was in chains. And it hurt. Because they were his friends, or so he thought.

Perhaps, part of him whispered, they hadn't. Perhaps, it was simply because he could not see them that he felt so alone for all those months.

"Ichigo," Aizen said, the name sounding wrong coming from the man even though Ichigo knew he had heard it many times before. It was the false warmth in it, Ichigo reasoned, as he took a breath.

He didn't bother responding, instead taking a step forward, leading to another, and another, and before he knew it they were in the center of the room. It was then that Aizen's hand finally left his own and he took his place in the line of captains.

Ichigo took the opportunity to swing Shiro from his shoulder, the blade half resting on the floor. For all that he hated to admit it, the weight of carrying the blade made his arm and back ache – it seemed he would need to work on building muscles first and foremost, he noted morosely.

There were murmurs running through the room. Murmurs about how young he looked. About his blades. About his potential. He ignored them all, meeting the silent gaze of the first division captain without hesitation.

"Silence." Yama-ji says, and the room fell quiet. The man's eyes scrutinized him, an aged wisdom pressing into his soul that made Ichigo want to squirm. "I am Yamamoto Genryusai, Soutaichou. What is your name?"

"Ichigo." He said, "Kurosaki Ichigo."

"Kurosaki Ichigo, do you know why you are here?"

He blinked, "I died." It was the third time he had said that, the second in the last hour and it felt just as strange as the first time.

Yamamoto remained silent for a second, seeming to analyze Ichigo's response, "How old are you, my boy?"

"Nine," Ichigo said, the murmurs resurfacing at that declaration, and even at Yama-ji's command for quiet they remained for a few seconds too long.

As the halls fell once more into order, Yamamoto took his gaze off Ichigo, "Aizen-taichou."

"Soutaichou," Aizen replied amiably.

"Did he have these blades when you found him?"

"Yes," Aizen said, "although it is unclear if he knows their significance."

"They're Zangetsu," he spoke up, knowing all too well that they would ask. And knowing all too well that pretending he didn't know wouldn't work.

"He not only has powerful reiatsu, but he's a duel wielder too," Jushiro said, the words soft but loud in the hall, a slight frown on his lips.

"Where did he come from?" The unspoken question hung heavy in the air, sparking as no one had an answer and Ichigo felt no need to offer one.

"Soutaichou," Korutsuchi stepped forward, a gleam in his gaze that made the hairs on the back of Ichigo's neck stand on end, "I would request that he is given to the twelfth division, so that we may understand the source of his great powers."

"Don't be an idiot," Sui-Feng snapped at the scientist, "if anyone is taking him it's the second- division. The brat clearly needs to be taught some control."

"Why does he need to learn control?" Zaraki countered, a smile creeping onto to his face that promised a blood bath. "It'll be more fun to fight him like this."

Ichigo watched with equal parts fascination and annoyance as the captains fell into argument, each of them presenting their own reasoning as to why their division was the best option. His grip tightened on Shiro the longer it went on; did he not get a say? They were talking about him as if he were a tool, a weapon to be wielded simply for the prestige it would bring them. It made irritation itch under his skin. Did they even realize he was still in the room?

"He hasn't even attended the academy yet." Jushiro's comment caught Ichigo's attention, as well

as everyone else's in the room if the slowly building quiet was anything to go be, "It is useless to fight over him now."

"He's only nine, it will be some time before he enters the academy," Kyoraku hummed, his posture laid back but eyes sharp even in the dim light of the hall.

"That doesn't mean he can't be trained," Sui-Feng countered, gaze hard. "Do you not feel his reiatsu? He needs to learn to control it before it gets him or someone else hurt."

"And you think the Onmitsukido is the best place for him?" Aizen asked, his face gentle even as it frowned. Ichigo had to give the man credit, if he hadn't known he was a manipulative traitor the nice-guy act would've had him fooled too.

"That's enough." The Soutaichou tapped his cane against the floor once, the spike of his spiritual power making it clear that the order was to be followed immediately and without complaint. "Sui- Feng-taichou's assessment is correct, the boy will need to be taught how to control his powers." Ichigo could practically feel Sui-Feng's smugness at that announcement. "Which is why he will be under the fifth division's care until he is grown enough to wield his blades." The hall remained tense for a long moment after that, but Ichigo paid it no mind, too satisfied with this outcome to care what the other captains were thinking. "This meeting is dismissed."

Most of the captains filed out, after that, even Yama-ji left without even giving him another glance. But Aizen stayed, as did Jushiro and Kyoraku, causing the tension in the room to rise, even if they all seemed to pretend it wasn't there.

"When you feel like learning some katas for duel wielding, come see us, squirt." Kyoraku said amiably, his hand reaching out and ruffling Ichigo's hair before he could dodge the action.

"Don't call me that," he scowled, hands running through his hair to try and fix the mess that the man made of it.

"Whatever you say, Berry," the man called over his shoulder as they turned to leave the hall before flash stepping away. Ichigo only just caught the amused smile that Jushiro sent his friend, and it made the annoyance in him fizzle into nothing. It was good to see them again, if he was being honest.

"Ichigo." Aizen's voice drew his attention, and it took a moment to realize that the man was once more expecting him to take his hand. It made something inside him shrivel up, because he knew he couldn't refuse – not yet, at the very least.

The fifth division was big. Or, maybe, he thought with a deepening scowl, he was just small.

There were at least four different training grounds, and just as many dojo. All of them brimming with Shinigami from dawn until dusk – it made Ichigo wonder what use they had if all they did was train. The Shinigami that made of the division itself were all almost absentminded. On the surface it looked like they were working hard, and if one watched for an hour or so there wouldn't be anything noticeable. But by the second hour that Ichigo had watched them practice or bustle around he realized with a start that they all had an almost absentminded air about them. Dazed, really.

The mess hall and the barracks sat right next to Aizen's own office and home, which Ichigo discovered the man barely spent any time in even if the rest of the squad seemed to think he did. There was even a garden – beautifully tended to, with a koi pond and flowers that Ichigo hadn't even known existed blooming along the paths.

So really, with how big the place was, it wasn't his fault that he got lost trying to follow Aizen's directions to the third training ground on his first day. He was nearly a half-hour late by the time he stumbled across the area, entirely by accident at that.

And Aizen, oddly enough, didn't seem to mind.

Or, more accurately, Ichigo thought his scowl firmly in place, the man found it amusing.

Ichigo let out a huff, sitting down in the grass at Aizen's request as the man unsheathed his blade. The motion made Ichigo tense, because even with his zanpakuto he wasn't sure this younger body could handle fighting Aizen and survive.

"We are going to work on teaching you to seal your swords," Aizen told him, "when you do, it should be easier for you to carry." He sat opposite Ichigo, his blade resting across his knees. "But first, I think it would be best for you to get an idea of how to compress your reiatsu, so I want you to try and feel how my energy rises during release and falls when I seal my blade."

Ichigo glanced up from the sword to meet Aizen's gaze with a nod. Sealing his zanpakuto had been something he'd never been able to accomplish in the future. Not that he had tried over hard to do so; he had figured that with how much energy he had, controlling it would be a waste of time when they were at war and learning to fight, becoming stronger, was so much more pressing. So, now, Ichigo had to say he was curious if he even could seal Zangetsu, seeing as so many people had commented that he was a constant-release type.

With that in mind Ichigo closed his eyes. He was never all that good at sensing spiritual energy, but with some concentration he could at least focus on the reiatsu of the person in front of him. When, after a few minutes, Aizen's reiatsu remained stable Ichigo opened his eyes in curiosity, only to be met by a deceptively open and patient gaze.

"Can you sense my reiatsu, Ichigo?"

Oh. Ichigo held in a snort, nodding instead.

"Good," Aizen gave him a smile, "now pay attention."

It was nothing special, Ichigo thought. Feeling the man's energy rise and rise, the pressure building around them – clearly controlled, clearly slower than what would normally happen during a battle. He had felt enough blades release to know this part, even if he never necessarily gave the feeling this much thought.

There was a burst, sudden and consuming, like a bubble popping but more violent, and the man's reiatsu levels evened out once more. Stabilizing.

Only his blade barely changed, and Ichigo knew the second Aizen started talking about sealing zanpakuto that he would attempt to put him under an illusion.

Too bad for Aizen that Ichigo had fought him enough in the future to touch his blade.

(Urahara had expressed concern when Ichigo had first expressed his plan to get close to Aizen, warning him that his blade was an illusion type and that is was near impossible to not be stuck in it. Ichigo had only smiled at the man and told him not to worry.)

Ichigo watched in interest as a strange, almost transparent, pool of water formed around them, Aizen's blade itself gaining a flow of water at the hilt. It was strange, because he knew it wasn't really there, but as he reached out to run his hand through the strange pool beneath them he swore

that it felt like water; or a ghost of water, anyway.

A part of him wanted to reveal the fact he could see straight through the hypnosis. Wanted to rub it in Aizen's face that he wasn't nearly as powerful as he thought he was, nor was his zanpakuto as perfect. But… but he couldn't because this was a card that he knew he'd need to keep hidden if he wanted even a single chance at destroying all of the man's plans while in his younger body. Knew that if he even hinted at being able to see past these illusions he was as good as dead. He couldn't fight Aizen with his current body. No. He would wait until he gained some height and muscle first.

"I want you to concentrate on how I control my reiatsu." Aizen's voice broke him from his thoughts.

This time Aizen said nothing as Ichigo closed his eyes, simply started pulling in his power like it was nothing at all to compress so much into such a tight space. The bubble reformed and pushed down the energy with a steady strength of will until, finally, the energy seemed to click and balance once more.

Ichigo reopened his eyes, blinking once as he met Aizen's gaze.

"Now, why don't you try?"

With a nod he brought both his blades to rest across his knees, the weight of them a welcome sensation as he furrowed his brows in concentration. He could feel his own reiatsu, thick and sluggish in the atmosphere as he tried to find its edges – more than before he lost his powers, more than the winter war and that left him reeling for a moment because how could he possibly suppress all if this when he hadn't been able to deal with the amount he had before. He chewed on the inside of his lip as he tried to tug it in. But every time he pulled too hard, too fast, a section seemed to burst out, crumpling his concentration and he would need to start again.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, eyes closed and struggling to control his powers, but Aizen remained silent the entire time. With a huff of frustration, he opened his eyes and glared at the blades in his lap, scowl growing with each passing second that they stayed the same and with the realization that, even if he felt what Aizen had done it didn't mean he understood it.

Thickening his skin against his pride Ichigo glanced up at Aizen, "It's not working."

"It would seem not," Aizen said with a soft hum. "How about we try some basic control exercises first?" At Ichigo's nod he continued, "I want you to focus a small amount of reiatsu into different points on your body. Start with a hand and then once you can do that without concentration you can move on to your other hand, then your feet."

Ichigo looked from Aizen to his right hand, brows furrowing as he concentrated a small portion of his reiatsu into his palm. It glowed, slightly, that same black and red that he had seen when he first arrived – it seemed even this changed when coming back. When he was sure that the reiatsu wouldn't disperse if he looked away, he glanced up to Aizen. Surely this wasn't it, right?

"I said a small amount," Aizen told him, patient but clearly amused.

Ichigo frowned, "This is a small amount."

Aizen stared at him for a long moment, scanning his face for something, though Ichigo wasn't sure what. "I see," the man finally said, and it took every ounce of self-control Ichigo had to not shout back that he didn't.

Instead he settled for a petulant, "See what?"

"Take a small amount of the reiatsu in your palm, about enough to fill an acorn," Aizen said. "That is how much you should concentrate into each part of you for now. Once you can do that without thinking you can start making it smaller."

It took more concentration and time than Ichigo would have wanted, but he managed to cut the amount down to an acorn, as unsteady as it was.

"There," he said, looking up at Aizen as he said it. Except… except the second he looked away, the second he stopped fully focusing on keeping that small amount small it greedily took more of his reiatsu, increasing its size back to what he had before. He looked back down at his hand, feeling an overwhelming sense of betrayal.

This was going to take forever, he could feel it.