Eleven

There was no way Aizen hadn't known Unohana was there. The whole conversation had been just another layer of his mask. A ploy. A lie. Again. It left him rubbing dirt from his skin that wasn't even there. Trying to scrub it away as if that would make the truth any less real. But it was his own fault, really. At this point, he should know better than to expect anything else.

And what about all those times when no one was around, a traitorous part of him whispered. Or, just now, with his parents? When there was no Shinigami around in need of fooling?

Ichigo snorted. What about them?

In the end, Ichigo was as much a puppet to be tricked and used as anyone else. In Aizen's elaborate game of chess not a single piece was more than a pawn. And not a single pawn was allowed outside his spider-web board.

Then why had Aizen agreed to go? He'd thought it was something Hat-an-clogs said but then again, the chances of Aizen listening to him were practically nonexistent. It was all the more likely Aizen was bidding to win Ichigo's favor.

His lungs were too small, he realized as he tried to take a breath.

It'd been planned. Agreeing would win Ichigo's approval, but then he'd gone and brought up the 'abuse' to drive a wedge and isolate Ichigo from his family. Two birds, one stone. Too bad for him that it would never work.

He could think on that later though. Now, he had to focus on Unohana's too-calm expression.

"How much did you hear?" Aizen asked.

"All of it," she said easily. "The walls are very thin."

"Then you know."

"Yes."

"What are you going to do about it?" Aizen asked stiffly. Too stiffly. His hand subtly angling towards his sword.

"Nothing," Unohana proclaimed with a sip of her tea.

"Nothing?" Aizen repeated, disbelieving.

"I already knew," she laughed softly. "If I was going to say anything, I would have by now."

"This is… unlike you."

Unohana hummed, "You're right. I have a duty to uphold and protect the integrity of the Gotei Thirteen and its laws. You sneaking your ward off to the land of the living breaks several." She took another sip from her cup, eyes following it as it settled once more between her hands. "However, I never did agree with the execution order central handed Urahara's victims. I did not speak up then, and that was my mistake. I am correcting that now. With Ichigo."

Ichigo stilled. "You- Since when?"

Unohana raised a delicate brow, "I am your doctor, Ichigo. Did you really think I wouldn't notice your hollow or the new member of your soul after spending so long studying your reiatsu?"

"But you never said anything!" And neither, he noted, was she saying anything about his quincy nature.

"No," Unohana said. "I am paying for my past sins as well as doing my duty as your teacher and doctor."

"Oh," he said. "Thank you, but if you want to pay back the- if you want to pay someone back then you shouldn't use a scapegoat, you should face those you hurt and do what you can to show you understand your mistakes."

Unohana tipped her head, smile small but warm, "You're right, but they aren't here right now and you are. If there comes a time that I see them again, I will do what I must. Until then," she paused, placing her cup down on the table, "I ask that you allow me to help. Which brings me to why I'm here. I want to know Urahara's plan for Ichigo's health. It is best if our prescriptions align, after all."

Aizen nodded, a considering look on his face. "Alright."

Only bothering to half-listen as Aizen went on about his health, Ichigo instead focused on trying to squirm out from under Aizen's arm which was still locked around his shoulders in an increasingly maddening embrace that in no way at all was comforting. Still, he caught the mention of his reishi pills and need for a reishi thick environment. All of it Ichigo expected. What he didn't was Aizen bringing up traveling to Hueco Mundo to satisfy the need for hollow-reiatsu. Ichigo had figured that would be the solution, but to tell Unohana… What was his plan? Ichigo stopped his escape attempts and watched in shock as Unohana nodded along.

"I would like a sample of the pills."

"Of course."

"And bringing Ichigo to Hueco Mundo does seem to be our only option until myself or Urahara can settle things." She paused. "I would like to also try reiatsu transfer sessions. It's different than encouraging his reiatsu to replenish if it were low. While that merely accelerates an already natural process, this would actually give Ichigo my own, calmer and more stable, reiatsu. The goal being that it would act as a guide to help his own settle down and lessen its strain."

"Why not do this before?" Aizen asked, frowning.

"It is time consuming and dangerous," Unohana explained. "If his reiatsu rejects mine, then it would be a violent reaction and may injure him."

"I see," Aizen said, still frowning but eyes slightly far away as he thought.

"I want to do it," Ichigo spoke up, meeting Unohana gaze head on. Dangerous or not, it may very well be what he needs to prevent needing the death-ball.

"Ichigo," Aizen sighed, his arm squeezing slightly tighter, "do you even understand-."

He cut him off, "I'm not stupid or deaf. I heard what Unohana said, but if it can help then I want to at least try."

Aizen met his gaze for a long, searching, moment. "Alright."

"If that's the case we should set up a schedule," Unohana said, "these sessions will be short at first and then longer as we go on."

The two of them easily dived into the logistics of it. Laying out different times and ways they could work the sessions into Ichigo going to Hueco Mundo for the day.

"Now that it's sorted, I would like to apologize for overhearing your talk earlier," Unohana said, drawing Ichigo's attention. "However, I must say that I wish you'd brought me along."

Ichigo blinked, "To talk with Hat-an-clogs?"

Unohana's eyes turned cold and deadly, while her smile remained its pleasant and warm self. The contrast was terrifying. "To speak with your father." He started to bristle but she continued before he could get a word out, "You don't have to talk about what happened, but I will be here to listen when you're ready." She turned back to Aizen, leaving Ichigo a simmering pot of frustration, "In my experience, it is often not until those suffering from such trauma are far enough removed and feel safe that their minds allow them to fully feel what's happened to them. You need to be prepared for that."

Aizen nodded along, looking for all the world like a concerned guardian.

It made Ichigo sick.

Las Noches looked almost exactly how he remembered it.

Given that the last time he'd been there it was to break Orihime out and he'd spent more time destroying walls and fighting than looking at the scenery, he was surprised to find how much he remembered. Or maybe it was that everything looked so damn similar. All pale walls and rooms swallowed by dramatic shadows.

He was supposed to spend the day with Aizen, letting the ambient reishi do its job. It was fine at first, really. Unohana had waved them through the garganta, basket for herb-collecting in hand; her hiking would be their alibi. Ichigo followed close behind Aizen, watching the sands and walls with open curiosity and suspicion alike. He hadn't met all the Espada, but he could recall the stories told after the war, before he'd completely lost his powers. Even with Aizen there, his instincts were singing to be ready for a fight. A fight that would sadly never come.

An hour passed of wandering. And then another hour passed and Ichigo was bored.

They'd run into all of two people and of them only Barragan had bothered to stop Aizen to talk. A conversation that was still droning on. Something about territories or other and fresh souls to the south. That Barragan was organizing a hunting party for his fraccion. Ichigo had zoned out at that point. He got the distinct feeling it was all some ploy to intimidate him, or maybe a means to spend time analyzing the new Shinigami among them.

Shuffling his feet and looking around to stem off his growing boredom, he found nothing of interest. Pale walls. More pale walls. A very breakable-looking pale vase. Why Aizen would keep that here, he had no idea. How it wasn't broken yet was even more of a mystery.

Taking a few more tentative steps from Aizen's side, Ichigo caught sight of a girl watching him from around a doorway. Her stare was unblinking.

Ichigo gave a short wave, unsure what else to do.

She waved back, her smile growing.

Glancing back at Aizen, Ichigo slipped a few steps closer to her.

"Ichigo," Aizen said, freezing him in his tracks. "Don't go too far."

"I won't," he said, turning just enough to meeting Aizen's gaze.

Aizen gave a short nod, and then went back to Barragan. Only, when Ichigo looked at the doorway again, the girl was gone. Great. There went the first interesting thing to happen.

He fell back into place by Aizen's side, trying not to be too disappointed about the distraction disappearing and failing rather miserably. Although he couldn't really be blamed. Barragan was more long-winded than Aizen.

Thankfully it was only a few more tedious minutes.

Aizen waved Barragan away and they continued with the seemingly mindless wandering.

"Barragan," Aizens said as they rounded another corner that looked exactly like the last five they'd passed, "is too caught up in his own pride. Don't bother listening to him."

Ichigo blinked, not having expected Aizen to speak at all, let alone so openly and seemingly honestly about one of his pawns. "I stopped listening when he said something about hunting souls."

"Good." Aizen nodded, "We'll be visiting Harribel next. I suspect you'll like her fraccion. You can spend time with them while I talk with her."

In other words, Ichigo was to stay out of the business end of things.

He held in a sigh.

Aizen had already spent the entirety of breakfast explaining how he wasn't to talk of their trips with anyone else. That if even Unohana asked, he shouldn't say anything of Las Noches, as, much like with Muramasa, the Gotei and central wouldn't take well to a group of hollows that could wield swords and work together.

When they got to Harribel's quarters, it was to find that her fraccion had left on a hunt. Which, consequently, meant that Ichigo was to sit in a side room quietly by himself.

Something that decidedly did not last long.

His watcher's name was Lilynette.

And the room that she brought him to was so covered in pillows and blankets and soft rugs that Ichigo didn't even bother trying to find the floor beneath. The walls were the same as everywhere else in the palace, however. Still that pale white, almost-grey. A few pillars dotted the room, but none of that drew his attention quite the same as the person sprawled out on a pile of cushions, eyes lazily opening at the obscenely loud bang of the door.

Tall, was his first thought. And then that this was one of the Espada. His third was that he should be more wart, but whatever instinct he had to draw his blades was squashed by the comforting lull of reiatsu permeating the room.

"You aren't dead."

Ichigo raised a brow, "Should I be?"

"My reiatsu crushes most souls."

"Oh," Ichigo said with a frown. That must be lonely, he didn't say. He could feel it though; the pressure around him thicker than before. It was nice, if anything.

"You're Aizen's child."

"I'm not his," Ichigo corrected none too gently, arms crossing. "He just- he looks after me," he explained haltingly.

Starrk stared at him with half-lidded eyes, "Why are you here?"

"I followed Lilynette."

A sigh. "Causing trouble again, I see."

"I am not!" the girl blustered, stomping her foot. "He just looked like fun."

"He's here to fix his reiryoku," Starrk corrected. "He'll be meditating."

Lilynette sent him a look filled with betrayal. "That's not fair, why is everyone interesting always boring."

"Hey!" Ichigo said, bristling at the insult.

She huffed an answer before spinning on a heel to stomp away, grumbling something about going to play with Nel.

"You can stay, if you want," Starrk said after the large doors were slammed shut. "As long as you're quiet." And then he promptly went back to sleeping.

Ichigo only paused for a moment before shuffling forward until he could lean back against Starrk's side; half-pushing into the pile of pillows with his sword across his lap. "It's easier if we're close," he mumbled his explanation, shoulders stiff and scowl fiercer than usual as he started to concentrate on pulling in the ambient reishi like Ossan had showed him.

Starrk let out a sigh.

Then an arm wrapped securely around his waist and pulled. The world tilted, Zangetsu tumbled to the cold floor with a clatter, and Ichigo found himself blushing a bright red, squawk of indignation lodged in his throat as he was held tight against a, thankfully clothed, chest.

"There," Starrk said lazily.

Ichigo laid there, stiff, for a few full heartbeats. Five to be exact. He knew because he could feel the damn thing in his throat.

Then he started to struggle. Squirming his way out of the iron grasp as best he could. It only

tightened. "Hey!" he protested, wiggling harder. "Let go!"

An obnoxiously loud snore filled the air.

"I know you're not asleep," Ichigo complained.

"Why?"

"Huh?"

"Why should I let you go? You said it worked better the closer you were. This is closer and more comfortable, and besides," Starrk muttered, "this way you can't run off and cause trouble."

"I wasn't going to!"

"You followed Lilynette all the way here."

"And?"

Ichigo felt Starrk's huff of breath ruffle his hair, "And the only ones I know that would follow her are troublemakers. Now, sleep or meditate, I don't care. Just be quiet."

Ichigo opened his mouth, but any words he would have said vanished at the pressure suddenly enwrapping him like a warm blanket. He relaxed into it without thought. Aches he hadn't even realized he had were soothed. It was the same haze he'd had when taking the reishi pills for the first time, only a hundred times worse. Or better, he corrected sinking further into the feeling. Definitely better.

Ichigo curled more into Starrk's side, intoxicated. He could happily stay here. Nothing would move him. Not Aizen or an entire army of hollows or- well, maybe his mom, but she wasn't coming to Hueco Mundo any time soon.

The door burst open with a bang.

Starrk didn't move, but Ichigo twisted enough to see Grimmjow march in, "Oi! Aizen sent out orders for all of us to look for his brat, come-." Ichigo watched in dissociative fascination as Grimmjow realized that the one Starrk was holding was not, in fact, Lilynette.

"As you can see," Starrk started with a wide yawn, "Ichigo is well in hand."

Grimmjow snorted, arms crossing, "Yeah, well, Aizen's still looking for him."

He looked just like he remembered, Ichigo thought after a few moments of squinting at the shock of bubble-gum-blue hair. His fingers twitched for Zangetsu. Whatever else the reishi here had done, it also made his blood absolutely scream for a fight.

Said intoxicating reishi was also slowly starting to recede. Ichigo only just stopped himself from objecting. The aches were back, and now that he knew they were there it was more irritating than ever.

"Where's Aizen?"

"Where do you think? In his throne room."

"Ah," Starrk said, tipping his head slightly in what could have been a thanks. "And I'd been hoping for a peaceful day," Starrk muttered, his hand falling onto Ichigo's shoulder. A moment later, they

were practically flying through the halls, Starrk's sonido a refreshing taste of the speeds he hoped to gain back with his older body. It ended all too soon. And Ichigo found himself standing before two grand doors.

Beyond them, the throne room was really just a large hall with a giant chair in it. Or, it should have been, except, like in all things, Aizen had to be overly ostentatious with it. Replacing the simple raised platform with stairs, was a towering block that placed the throne itself far above anyone below. A bit on the nose, really.

Aizen, at least, was not sitting up there when they entered.

"Thank you for finding him, Starrk," Aizen said by way of greeting, pausing his in his pacing.

Starrk shook his head, "More like he found me. He followed Lilynette."

"I see," Aizen hummed. "You can go, I want to talk with him alone."

Starrk nodded easily enough, turning around and leaving with a lazy backwards wave while his other hand came up to half-cover his yawning face. Ichigo watched him go until the doors shut.

"How many times have we had this conversation," Aizen started with. "I told you not to wander off, and what did you do? Wandered off. Do you know how easily you could have gotten hurt, or even-."

Ichigo's mouth opened before he could bite his tongue, "Why does it matter? It's not like you even care."

He couldn't bring himself to regret it. Not with how tight his chest had been feeling. Not with how the sight of Aizen made him see red. Ichigo liked to think he'd been acting so good over the years. He hadn't put a sword through Aizen's chest. Hadn't chopped off his head. Hadn't taken Tousen's life. Hadn't even told anyone beyond Gin. Hadn't done anything that his instincts have been screaming about. He liked to think he had done well in holding back like this. Yet, these last few weeks…

No, it was since that night, if he was being honest.

Since then, the tightrope he'd been walking had become thinner and thinner and thinner. The slightest breeze threatening to snap it. And Aizen had been sending it typhoons dressed as care. How could he not fall off?

He refused to think on why it mattered so much. Couldn't right now with Aizen's satisfyingly open-mouthed, wide-eyed look.

So, no. He didn't regret it even if he hadn't meant to say it.

"Of course I do," Aizen finally said, like the liar he was.

"Don't lie!" Ichigo snapped, snarling like a caged animal. "I'm sick of all the lies and fake smiles. I'm sick of all the pretending."

Aizen's arms went out wide, as if preparing to pull him into a hug, "What pretending, Ichigo? I've never-."

"Shut up."

"Ichigo," Aizen said sharply.

"I said shut up!" The ringing silence that followed was cold but burned all the same; it did nothing to quench the rolling anger in him. He took a breath, ignoring every instinct pushing him to fight attack kill. The very instincts that had pushed him to speak up. "If you're going to keep lying, then I don't want to hear it."

Aizen took a step forward, arms falling flat to his side, "What makes you think this?"

Ichigo snorted, "You mean, how did I see past your damn masks?"

"Language."

It made Ichigo pause, struck by how absurd it all was. Really? "That's what you're going to focus on now?"

"Arguing or not, I won't have you speaking so barbarically."

Ichigo stared for a long moment, gob-smacked. Even now Aizen was still putting on his stupid play…

"Is this why you've been acting out lately?" Aizen continued, taking his silence as a cue. "Why you don't believe-." His eyes sparked with a probably-false understanding. And then he took a long breath, "Ichigo, I'm not your father-"

"No shit," Ichigo muttered under his breath. So stop pretending you are, he added mentally.

"-I won't stop caring, or leave you behind."

If Ichigo bothered to, in that moment, he may have been able to hear the skip in his heart, but he wasn't bothered to and so he didn't. Instead, he was rather preoccupied by trying to skewer Aizen on Shiro's blade, Ossan in his other hand to take the bastard's head. He'd hardly even noticed the shift to shikai.

Aizen weathered every strike with ease. Some, he didn't even bother to raise his blade to block and merely batted them away with his hand like Ichigo's resolve was nothing but a fly. Was he really so weak still? His eleven-year-old body so incapable of fighting?

Ichigo had never thought of himself as delicate. As anything that could be easily broken. But, right then, he found himself cracking like glass with each blocked attack. The grind of the shards sounding loud in his ears. Each step fractured them a little further.

He was breaking.

He was breaking and he didn't care.

He was breaking and he wanted it all to shatter – this entire illusion. Aizen's mockery of guardianship. The peace he felt with enemies. The care he was starting to feel. None of it mattered – none of it could mater, not when faced with his family and friends and the fates of those caught up in Aizen's schemes. Not when Aizen's deception weighed on his cracked-glass lungs, waiting to make a grave of them.

Aizen dodged Ichigo's next strike, and the one after that. The flash-step combo he maneuvered through got him nowhere. He wasn't strong enough. At this rate he'd have no choice but to-

Ichigo's lungs hitched. The spiderweb cracks spreading like wildfire because-

He didn't want-

The grip he had on Zangetsu loosened. Then tightened. Loosened, again.

He was breaking.

He couldn't breathe.

"Ichigo," Aizen's voice came from far away. Under water or across an ocean, maybe both. Ichigo couldn't think, not when he- "Ichigo, you need to breathe with me."

Breathe? He was breathing, it was just that his lungs weren't on the same page. They'd skipped ahead, or maybe went back; he didn't know. But it was definitely the page his heart had run off to, for how hard it pounded against his chest – aching something fierce and vicious. He tried to swallow around the lump in his throat and failed miserably. Tried to find the words to tell Aizen to back off and couldn't. Instead, he clung to the white fabric of his coat. Leaned into the steady thrum of familiar, comforting, reiatsu.

"Ichigo," Aizen said again. Closer this time. "That's it, breathe with me."

"We're not going anywhere, Ichigo," Ossan's voice broke through the fog that'd settled over his mind. "We won't leave you again."

Right.

That was right. His swords weren't going anywhere. They wouldn't leave and he wouldn't make them go. Never again.

It felt like breaking the surface of a river after a long dive. His chest was no longer in a vice grip, his heart pounded slower.

"There we go," Aizen said softly, hands moving away from his arms.

There were tears running down his face, Ichigo noted. For the second time in such a short while, he was crying in front of Aizen. In front of his enemy. In front of the person he would have to kill. His next breath stuttered.

Large hands came up to cup his too-small face, thumbs working against his cheeks to wipe away the worst of it, but only really succeeding in making his whole face wet. "Ichigo?"

In old stories and poems, people would cry for heartbreak and loss and immeasurable things. Pains that were unspeakable. Not because they didn't want to explain them, but because the words for their grief hadn't been thought of yet. And yet, here Ichigo was, crying over Aizen and his own soul like these could hold weight to all the lives that would fall under his selfishness.

"Ichigo," Aizen repeated. "I need to you to listen."

He nodded.

"I apologize."

Surprisingly, the world did not end.

"It seems I've neglected to make sure you understood the care I have for you," Aizen continued,

like he hadn't almost brought reality to its knees. "In light of this, I'll say it plainly. I've grown to care a great deal for you."

Liar.

It wasn't until much later that Zangetsu dragged him into his inner world. They sat in a loose circle – or laid sleeping in Muramasa's case – at the junction between one building and the next. A Greek-styled stone pillar jutted out not far away, the vines that wrapped it starting to furtively reach towards their spot.

There were more pillars than before. Some grew bridges between the sides of buildings; leaning or straight up. Some stopped short like jagged, broken teeth. While others, like the one at their right, looked as if a sword had cut it clean through; leaving behind a smooth and comfortable perch that he didn't doubt Ossan would take advantage of. Almost every one of them had vines or moss or flower buds clinging to them. The occasional tree sprouting alongside with winding roots that hugged the cold stone and dug so impossibly into the windows.

A beautiful change to his inner world.

Ichigo pointedly ignored the light drizzle and the way it made the glass slippery to walk on.

Shiro was the first to speak, unsurprisingly, "I know we're tryin' ta hate him, but he had'a point."

"A point?" Ichigo repeated, dry as dust.

"'bout your dad," Shiro said, arms crossed, head raised, and shoulders set.

Ichigo rolled his eyes, "I know Dad wasn't perfect, but no one has perfect parents."

"Yea', but sendin' ya ta war wasn't just 'not perfect'."

"I wasn't the only one fighting, my friends went too and you didn't see their parents complain."

"Ishida's dad's an asshole," Shiro easily rebutted. "Orihime and Chad's weren't around ta know."

"It could have been worse," Ichigo said. "I'm not some abuse survivor."

"Are ya sure 'bout that?"

"Yes," he stressed.

"And teachin' ya ta rip apart your soul doesn't count?" There was a dangerous gleam in Shiro's gaze.

"There wasn't any other way."

Shiro scoffed, "If he taught ya, he could'a done it himself. It may be da older brother's job to look after da little siblings, but it's da parent's job ta protect all of ya."

"Shiro is correct," Ossan jumped in.

Ichigo sat staring helplessly at his spirits. He didn't know what to say. What to feel. He knew,

logically, that war and soul-ripping and leaving him to take care of the twins wasn't great. Wasn't even good, really. But it was his life.

He'd read once about a parent that jumped in front of every blade and challenge and consequence for a child. Read about how they couldn't bear to watch them suffer. He'd been young then. Young and coming off loosing his mom. Young and just coming into the role of the protector and he had wanted.

He wasn't so naive anymore.

"It made me stronger."

"It made ya dumber."

"Hey!"

"It made ya look to the enemy for a proper parent," Shiro countered. "And 'sides, ya shouldn't hafta be strong like that anyway."

Ichigo looked down, took in the callouses on his still-too-small hands and the reflection of his too- young face in the window. He knew Shiro wasn't talking about physical strength. He would have gotten here with or without his dad. "That's not what we should focus on right now."

"No?" Shiro challenged. "Then why don't we talk 'bout you startin' ta like Aizen?"

Ichigo froze.

He'd been hoping that his spirits wanted to talk about Muramasa. To talk about what would happen if he didn't wake – because it was fast looking like that was the case – and what they would do about taking on the death-ball. To talk about his weird reaction to Starrk's reiatsu. Not about that. And definitely not about his dad.

"Ichigo," Ossan said, "stopping him and killing him aren't the same."

"I know," he bit out, scowl fierce. He did. Only… No. No, he couldn't. No, it didn't matter. No. He was thrown back here through an accident, but he would be damned if he wasn't going to make things better. Killing Aizen properly was an improvement to the ending of the war; it was a more fulfilling justice. And, he reasoned quietly even in his own head, he shouldn't start thinking like that when he may not even have a choice.

Caring for Aizen… what a fool's game. There was no point in dwelling on it. Better to let it go. Better to stop himself from caring any more.

Ichigo held back a sigh. He'd read this story before and it never ended well. It would be hubris to think it would go any different for him.

Eleven

Chapter Notes

honestly, this was supposed to be out on Christmas, and then my laptop got fixed and I re-modded my skyrim and now here we are…

All the same, it's out

Oh, and I really wanted to know – when do you all think Aizen knew/will know he cares for Ichigo (if at all)? I'm just super curious if any of you will line up with when I, as the author, intended/intend it to be. Because a super big part of this story is how ichigo is unreliable for that and the Not Knowing if what Aizen is doing is for show…

Muramasa was awake.

Muramasa was awake.

Muramasa was awake.

It happened during training – Aizen having finally agreed to start showing him kido again now that the symptoms of his time travel were under control. A blessing, really. For all that Ichigo has had flash-step and zanjutsu and quincy and hollow training this past year or so, he hasn't even touched other Shinigami arts.

Aizen had woken him up before the sun, and dragged him out to work on reiatsu control until breakfast. Then he'd started on kido.

"You need to stand firm," Aizen told him. "Later, you can learn how to cast these on the move."

Ichigo shifted his feet accordingly, pulling only the smallest fraction of his reiatsu to his hands, building it up as he spoke the incantation, "O Lord, mask of blood and flesh, all creation, flutter wings, you who bears the name of Man, Inferno and Pandemonium, the sea barrier surges, March on the South!"

The ball of red energy grew in his palm; bigger and bigger and bigger. It was twice the size of his head when Aizen's hand fell on his shoulder, "Enough."

Except he hadn't even used half the reiatsu he gathered yet.

"Draw the rest back," Aizen instructed. "The same way you got it there, just in instead of out. If you release it now, it'll pull more with it and explode before it reaches the target."

It took a full minute before he could coax the excess away from the kido. A minute with furrowed brows and a scowl fiercer than before. A minute of frustration. A minute he wouldn't be able to afford in battle.

"Hadou thirty-one, Shakkusho!"

The ball shot forward.

His target didn't stand a chance; the training dummy burning to a crispy pile of ashes. He'd been aiming to make just a small burn, but… he supposed this would do too. Better than before. At least he could get the ball down to less than half the size and it didn't almost blow up in his face.

He smiled, satisfied. If only with the destruction and the fact he managed it at all. Much like every other kido before it, he'd taken hours of practice. The timing he could deal with later. With more practice and more work on his control.

A hand came down on his head, and Ichigo had to look up through his fringe to catch sight of Aizen's own small smile. "Well done."

Ichigo stomped out the kindling something in his chest.

Still, the sun was warm overhead and the grass soft beneath him, and he'd just managed to not blow up the incantation. Allowing himself just a spark of pride, Ichigo fell back into the stance to try again. Less reiatsu. A bit more will.

Picture the outcome. And-

"Ichigo!" Shiro screamed through his head.

The spell exploded.

Because of course it did.

Aizen ripped him backwards, a shield going up even as Aizen twisted to block the worst of it with his own body. Ichigo didn't even flinch. It wasn't the first time it'd happened, after all.

"You need to concentrate," Aizen reproached as they took in the damage. It was only a small crater, really. And Aizen's shield had blocked them both from it, anyway.

"I was," Ichigo huffed. "Shiro just-."

"Muramasa's awake you idiot!" Shiro shouted his interruption. "Get in here!"

He forgot to breathe. Wide eyes looked up toward Aizen's furrowing brow and Ichigo beamed. "Muramasa's awake." He said it on wonder, on hope, on happiness. And with absolutely every intention of sitting down right then to meditate.

"In that case," Aizen said, "we'll end kido practice early today. Let's head back and you can tell me how it goes later."

Fat chance of that, Ichigo mentally snorted. He wasn't going to tell Aizen anything about what having Muramasa did. Ichigo hardly spared it a moment more of thought, though. Too caught up in sparking, heavy relief.

"Muramasa," he called out in his mind.

"Master."

"Ichigo," he corrected easily, quickly; best to get that out of the way as soon as possible.

A pause, and then; "Ichigo." Tentative. Hesitant. Ichigo's heart soared.

"You're home," he said, half-resolve, half-hopeful. If Muramasa didn't want to stay… if he rejected this…

"So I am."

Relief. Relief. Relief. Far too much all at one for Ichigo to think clearly. One feeling tumbling over the next and the next and Ichigo may as well be an avalanche.

By the time they were back in Aizen's office – the man behind his desk and Ichigo behind him, leaning against his back because the reiatsu was soothing and definitely no other reason – he was almost vibrating out of his skin. He needed to get into his inner world hours ago, damn it.

"I'll be pulling you out for lunch," Aizen warned.

Ichigo gave half a sound of agreement before his next breath came with the sight of side-ways skyscrapers and stone pillars. Came with the blood-roaring sight of Shiro and Ossan standing by Muramasa; awake and alive. Ichigo barreled into them like a shot. The last time he'd felt like this was when Orihime had come to him with determined eyes and set shoulders and said she could help.

"You're awake," he muffled into Muramasa's stomach, ignoring the hesitance in returning his embrace. Muramasa would get used to it soon enough. Used to the love. The devotion. The friendship. "I'm sorry about Koga," he added, because it had to be said.

"You saved me," Muramasa said instead. "Why?"

Ichigo pulled back so Muramasa could see the resolve in his eyes. "Because I could," he stated. "Because you deserve better. Because- because I could hear your voice."

Muramasa's eyes widened with each declaration. Each truth. His hands started to reach out and then stopped; falling back to his sides instead to dangle useless and unsure.

"You never cease to amaze me."

Ichigo smiled victoriously at that. He didn't let it fall even as he asked, "So you'll stay?" Even when he wanted to say, please stay. And don't leave. And I need you, we need you.

Muramasa's eyes went impossibly wider, and Ichigo could hear his breath hitching. A small gasp. His heart nearly tore with it; was it truly so unimaginable?

"If you'll have me."

For a moment, Ichigo wished with visceral, violent, desire that Koga was still alive so he could kill him all the more painfully.

"There's no goin' back, ya know?" Shiro said. "If ya stay, then that's it. We won't be lettin' ya go."

Ichigo held back a laugh, "You'll be stuck with us."

"Forever," Shiro tacked on.

"A good way to spend it," Muramasa said, the smallest hint of a smile curving his lips. Such a better expression than the painful and caged hope from before.

Shiro snorted, "Ya say that now, but just wait 'til King over there gets us inta trouble."

Ichigo squawked out an indignant sound, "Like you're one to talk!"

"They're both impossible," Ichigo heard Ossan say to Muramasa.

"Hey!"

"Wanna fight?!"

Ossan snorted, "See?"

Muramasa looked between them all with something disbelieving in his gaze. In the twist of his small smile. In the hesitance of his posture. Like he couldn't bring himself to look away lest it all disappear. Like someone had handed him everything he'd dreamed of and he wasn't sure when it would be taken away. When the other shoe would drop.

It wouldn't.

Murmasa didn't know it yet, but that was okay because they had all the time in the world to make sure he did.

"You already changed things around here," Ichigo blurted out just as Shiro was going for his sword, glaring at Ossan and smiling something bloodthirsty. "The- the pillars and flowers," Ichigo continued, waving a hand towards the closest one. "And, well you already know about the time travel, right? It sort of made my soul unstable in this time."

Muramasa's gaze sharpened, an almost guarded look, "Does my presence… make it worse?"

"The opposite," he said. "You helped give me an anchor, and- well Hat-an-clogs could explain it better, but it'll help deal with the symptoms until it either goes away or gets worse."

"What happens when it gets worse?"

Ichigo looked to Shiro and Ossan, their grave expressions not at all helpful, "I die."

"I see. You intend to keep me here as payment for saving me. A life for a life."

"No!" Ichigo snapped, "I- I want you here because you're you. Because I hear your voice and if you hear mine then that means your part of me and I'm never losing another part of me again."

Muramasa looked at him a long while, searching his face for something. He must have found it, because after a moment his shoulders relaxed and he nodded, that same painfully reserved hope sparking through his gaze once more. "Then what do you intend to do next?"

"It would be wise to discover the true extent to what your presence has changed," Ossan spoke up. "It is bound to be more than his inner world and becoming an anchor."

Muramasa hummed. "I… do not know what I might have changed."

"That's okay," Ichigo said with a shrug, "it'll be fun to figure it-." The world fell away between one word and the next. Ichigo found himself facing Aizen, a hand on his shoulder, "-out."

"It's time for lunch, you can talk to them later," Aizen said, pulling away so Ichigo could get up and head to the table. A simple array of food was laid out. Rice and fish and some kind of soup.

"But it wasn't even twenty minutes," Ichigo muttered, scowl crawling across his face.

Aizen returned it with a small frown, "You were meditating for almost an hour."

"What."

"I said-."

"I heard you," Ichigo interrupted, "but that makes no sense!"

Aizen sighed, as he always seemed to be doing these days, "Time works differently in our inner worlds, you know this. And with how your soul is still settling, it isn't unreasonable that the first or even first few times after he wakes it will be… off."

"Oh."

"Don't worry, we'll fill him in," Ossan said.

Ichigo settled a bit more at that.

"After you eat, you can talk with them again, but I don't want you forgetting to continue with your geography work." Aizen picked up his chopsticks, eyes giving his abandoned papers and books and maps a pointed look. He'd made good progress in them all things considered. But geography, even when he was alive, was far from his favorite subject. Math? History? Literature? He could study them for hours. Geography, on the other hand, had him falling asleep in minutes.

"Is Muramasa alright?" Aizen asked, finally bringing up the topic Ichigo knew he was dying to pick apart. Probably curious about how his little experiment handled integrating an entirely new spirit into their soul.

"He's fine," Ichigo said. "Shiro and Ossan are explaining everything until I get back."

Aizen gave him a long look, "I knew you and your spirits had a unique relationship, but I hadn't realized you trusted them this implicitly." A pause. "Implicitly means-."

"I know what it means," Ichigo cut him off, scowling. "And of course I do! They're part of me. They-." Ichigo broke off. At a loss for how to explain it to Aizen. "I care about them and they care about me. It's…" How to say it; how do you explain this desire to never lose them to a person that would easily give up their own in the future? Why did he even have to? "Don't you?" he settled on saying instead.

"Don't I what?"

"Care about your zanpakuto?"

Aizen blinked once, for some reason not expecting the question. "Not, I think, the way you care about yours."

"Why not?" he demanded.

"You haven't attended the academy yet, so this is expected," Aizen started with. "Ichigo, most Shinigami don't see their swords as more than tools for battle."

"But they're more than that!"

"Be that as it may, that isn't what is taught."

"That's-," his jaw worked, tensing around the string of curses he wanted to let out, "-so stupid." He'd known. Known that most of the gotei didn't see their spirits as much of anything. A mere means to an end in battle. But hearing and knowing were two different things.

"I'm sure you can manage to convince them otherwise," Aizens aid; dumping an ocean on the angry flames licking through him.

He stared, open-mouthed, trying to find even the slightest hint of deception. None. There was nothing. It made no sense. "You need to change your mind too, then," Ichigo blurted out. Immediately, he regretted it. Letting Aizen get closer with his zanpakuto would only make him stronger.

Not that it mattered, Ichigo reassured himself, it wasn't like Aizen would ever agree.

"I'll consider it."

He was a little offended the world didn't end then and there. Or maybe this was its last trembling gasp of warning.

Aizen had been acting strange for weeks now. Between the training and the buying him books of his own choosing, and the visits to not only Yachiru but Rukia, and Gin, and even Toshiro and Matsumoto. Then he'd went off and took Ichigo to a new book release and after that it'd been more kido training with higher level spells, and the promise of introducing kido seals and- Ichigo was losing his mind. Aizen, for some inexplicable reason, was being nice. Or, that'd be what Ichigo would say if it wasn't Aizen. But it was. There was some bigger plan here. Some grand scheme. Ichigo just had to figure out what it was and how it all fit together with his goal of becoming Soul King.

The obvious answer would be to gain Ichigo's favor and continue tricking the other Shinigami. But the later had already been achieved many times over. The former wasn't enough reason to go this far. Aizen was the kind of person to hit two or three or the entire flock of birds with one stone.

Hueco Mundo trips: sanctioned, passage to Las Noches with an alibi so he could further his plans, blackmail on Ichigo, indoctrination for him, helping with his experiment's instability. And there was no doubt more that Ichigo wasn't seeing.

Asking after Muramasa: learning more about his experiment, reminding Ichigo in a subtle way that he had this blackmail, a way that also seemed like he cared.

The worst of it, however, was the complete lack of fake smiles.

It set him on edge. What was his angle?

Only time would tell, it seemed.

Time that Ichigo gladly spent away from Aizen and with Yachiru instead.

"I can fit twenty-five of these in my mouth at once," Yachiru proclaimed happily, holding up a marble-sized hard candy for Ichigo to see. It was bubble-gum pink, but the bag she held had a rainbow of colors. Presumably different flavors. "Yumi-chan can fit twenty. And Ikaku-nii says he can fit twenty-one but he cheats."

"I'm not shoving those in my mouth."

In the back of his mind Shiro snorted.

"Please?"

Ten minutes later he found out the answer was a rather annoying sixteen.

"What an interesting zanpakuto spirit," Muramasa's voice sounded soft and low from his mind making him pause as he started spitting out the candies.

"Who?"

"Yachiru," Muramasa clarified, causing Ichigo to choke slightly. "Didn't you know?"

No. No he hadn't.

The next question on the tip of his tongue was whose, and then how. But the answers were painfully obvious. Too painfully obvious.

(Somewhere in the distant past that had been a future, the shrieking cry of a blade locked with his shuddered across his skin.)

It didn't matter, regardless. Yachiru hadn't said a thing, and so Ichigo wouldn't either. If she'd wanted him to know or felt it important than she would have said something, and that she hadn't… Ichigo spit out another few pieces of candy into the tissue Yachiru had handed him. It didn't matter, because she was his friend, and whether she was a zanpakuto or a hollow or a vizard or human or whatever, it didn't matter.

"That's okay, Ichi-nii," Yachiru said, patting his shoulder as he spit out the last candy and drawing his mind from what Muramasa had said. "With practice you can fit more."

"I'm not practicing."

"Practicing what?"

Ichigo twisted in his seat to find Rukia walking into the little field they'd sequestered themselves away in. "Hey, Rukia," he greeted.

"I'm teaching Ichi-nii to fit candy in his mouth," Yachuri said as Rukia settled by them.

"Oh," Rukia's eyes lit up and she picked a candy from the bag, "I have these but shaped like Chappy!"

"Of course you do," he snorted on a laugh.

Rukia narrowed her eyes but turned to Yachiru instead, "I can fit twenty-two in my mouth."

"Twenty-five, and Ichi-nii fits sixteen."

A consolatory pat on his shoulder, "Don't worry, you'll get it with practice."

"I'm not practicing!"

"Speaking of," Rukai said, eyes lighting up even more which set off all of Ichigo's warning bells, "weren't you supposed to be practicing some new move with your zanpakuto to make Aizen- taichou proud?"

"That's not why I'm doing it," Ichigo snarled a snarl with no real bite.

A wave of her hand, "Whatever you say."

"And I already figured it out."

"Oh?"

"Why do you think we're here and not our usual spot?"

"Ichi-nii blew it up."

"I didn't mean to," Ichigo huffed, arms crossing. If he'd known it would be as destructive as a Getsuga Tenshou he would have held back even more than he already had been. It had actually been relatively easy to figure out. Muramasa had explained in detail what he and Koga had been capable of together, and it hadn't been that hard to realize that Muramasa could still manifest if he wanted and control sword spirits and use his other abilities. The other part… well, it'd taken him nearly a week to figure out he had to hold both swords in front of him, tips facing down, and whisper Sasayake. A seal expanded out from them, and… And well- it blew up an entire clearing with hardly any reiatsu put into it.

It had left behind only a stunned Ichigo, an excited Yachiru, and a wide circle in which nothing but charred dirt remained – not even the smoldering cinders of grass or trees.

He was in no way showing it to Aizen.

Every card counted in this. His bankai, quincy training, Muramasa's ability to manifest, and now this were things he planned to keep close to his chest until the very end.

Aizen was bound to fall to one of them.

Hopefully.

"It was awesome," Yachiru piped up. "All whoosh and bang and I think Aizen-taichou will be proud!"

"I'm not showing Aizen!"

"Of course not," Rukia said with a roll of her eyes, "you need to practice more first. When you do show him, I want to be there, carrot-top."

Ichigo let out an inarticulate noise. Somewhere between pained and exasperated and so very fond. "Who are you calling carrot-top, midget?!"

"Midget?" Rukia snorted, arms crossing, "You're still shorter than me, carrot-top."

"At least I'll grow," he countered, like he always did.

"But you'll always be a carrot-top." She nodded in satisfaction. "Now, show me the crater you left."

And like always the argument devolved from there into their usual teasing, even as they made their way back to the destroyed clearing, and the world around him shifted and clicked into place just that little bit more.

Eleven to Twelve

Chapter Notes

for all ya'll saying ichigo is like a deep-water fish with reishi, you are 10000% correct even if it was completely unintentional. Also, so uh, the next chapter after this one was originally going to be part of this chapter but then I split them up because the conversation is taking me way to long to deal with and I wanted to get something out to you all… so yea.

If Ichigo had told his past – or future – self that he'd go on shopping trips with Aizen, then he'd probably tell himself exactly where he could shove such a ludicrous idea.

Yet.

Here he was.

Standing at a stall, watching Yachiru and Rukia gush over an assortment of Chappy-shaped candies. Unohana was by his side, perusing the same set of teacups that Aizen had been eyeing. She was muttering something about the delicate details and quality of the art, voice low and considering. Aizen occasionally chimed in.

It was painfully domestic and Ichigo hated it.

He didn't see what was so interesting about the cups. Sure, the artwork was pretty, but if it worked then what else did you need? A cup was a cup. No matter how fancy or painted up with foxes and cranes and mountains. All the same, Unohana and Aizen had bene looking them over for the better part of twenty-minutes.

Ichigo cast a glance at where Rukia and Yachiru were still going through the candy stall. Rukia had a wide smile as she presented a particularly bright candy to Yachiru. A throng of people passed between them before he could catch Yachiru's reaction. No doubt it was enthusiastic.

He glanced back at Aizen and Unoahan before turning away. He'd spotted a book store two shops back. It wasn't far so Aizen couldn't reprimand anything. With this in mind he weaved his way around a handful of people, ducked under a low-held basket – and silently seethed that he could instead of having to dodge around it – and then into the shop. It was bright but crowded with books and scrolls from floor to ceiling; some for rent and others for sale.

His first instinct was to look for play scripts, but a quick search and then a question to the person at the front revealed they didn't have any. Most of the novels were romance from the look, with a handful of cookbooks and a few history and political volumes. There was a small shelf on plants and their uses which Ichigo took a moment to look through and chose the most interesting of the few. After a final search, he settled on sifting through the romance section for something good. Aizen had plenty of history and political works, after all. And all the cookbooks did was remind him of Yuzu. Maybe he could buy one for her… but then again, he didn't think she'd be able to see it.

The first book he leafed through was dry as dust. The language boring, plot predictable in a bland

way, and characters cardboard cut outs. The second wasn't much better. The third was interesting enough. Some shrine maiden becoming enamored with the empress of a kingdom. The next was much like the first, and the fourth the same as well. Then he found one with ninja and another that looked like an adventure story with dragons that both made their ways to his growing pile.

At some point, he caught sight of Aizen among the shelves, looking over the books himself but clearly there to make sure Ichigo didn't cause trouble. The thought had him almost rolling his eyes as he reached for another book. It was higher on the shelves than the others he'd picked so far, so of course it would fall with an obnoxiously loud slap.

None of this should have been a concern. It'd been an accident. Nothing was broken or ripped. A bit of dust perhaps, but no harm done. Except.

Except like all things seemed to, this too went wrong.

The book fell face up, pages splayed open and presenting with detail a rather erotic scene between two women. Ichigo stared at it blankly for a moment. Not entirely processing just what he was seeing.

"Ichigo, if you drop something you should-." Aizen cut himself off with a choked noise that Ichigo'd never hear from him before. It was somewhere between a dying bird and a rusted car trying to start. In one clean motion, the book was scooped up and shut with more force than necessary. Aizen's face had turned glacial.

It was a split-second decision. The only option he had, really. Willing his face to not be red he turned to look up at Aizen with a hopefully confused and not embarrassed expression. He was a kid. He shouldn't know what that was or meant or even understand it, right? What age did kids even start learning about that stuff? He… he really wasn't sure now that he thought about it. Either way – better to be safe. "What kind of fighting is that?"

Aizen glanced at him, "You'll understand when you're older. Much, much older." The last part was said mostly to himself. Aizen looked at the books in Ichigo's arms, then, "Did you get those from this section as well?"

He nodded, "Some of them."

Pinching the bridge of his nose and letting out a much more aggrieved sigh than Ichigo thought the situation called for, he placed the previously fallen book away and held out a hand. "I'm going to look them over first."

Ichigo scowled, holding the books tighter. On the one hand, he knew why Aizen was saying that and agreed. Even if agreeing with Aizen made him gag. He didn't want to read that- that sort of- that stuff. On the other hand, if he just handed them over then wouldn't that be suspicious? Wouldn't that prove he knew more of the situation than he let on?

"Ichigo."

"Fine."

As Aizen was leafing through the first one, Unohana joined them, a bag in hand of what Ichigo assumed was that tea set from before. "I should have guessed this was where he'd be," she greeted them with.

Ichigo shrugged, "I wanted to see if they had anything good."

"And managed to stumble across a mature book," Aizen sighed, placing the one he was finished looking through back in Ichigo's arms.

Unohana's voice was rich with laughter, "In that case, I wouldn't let him read that one. Isane and I read it not long ago."

Ichigo stared at Unohana in shock before he could stop himself. She- Unohana read- but- No. No, nope, definitely not thinking about that. Ichigo refused. He would wipe this entire day from his memory as soon as it ended.

"And these?" Aizen asked, holding up the others.

"They should be fine."

Aizen nodded, handing Ichigo the books, "Do you have enough money?"

Ichigo nodded. Aizen had given him a fair amount of coin for their little excursion, and Ichigo had begrudgingly took it. At least having to wait to kill him came with some perks. Giving him grey hairs and using his money were a good two.

"While you do that, I'll be having a talk with the owner." The smile he gave then was in no way nice. It didn't even pretend to be.

Unohana nodded in understanding and support of what was clearly bad fate that would befall the person. "Come, Ichigo. I'll help you pay," she said, sounding distinctly like she'd rather be joining Aizen instead.

Ichigo followed behind dutifully. He was not at all interested in witnessing a murder that day – even if it'd be a figurative one. Maybe. It was hard to tell with Aizen these days.

In the end, it was Yachiru who managed it.

And by it, he meant the entirely unfortunate and avoidable event of attending a SWA meeting.

She distracted him with a game of tag and led him on a wild chase right into it; and like a fool, he stayed. Not that he'd known his mistake right away. Oh no. Like a frog boiling to death in slowly heated water, he was drawn in by Unohana's promise of new books and the cake that Matsumoto presented, and bantering with Rukia. It was only belatedly that he'd realized how utterly childish it was to by tricked by such things, and how utterly stupid.

By the time they got around to gossiping about his excursion the week before, he was relaxed enough to not notice at first, tucked into his new book as he was. He didn't notice how they went on about it being cute. How they pondered about his future love life. How Unohana pointedly mentioned Aizen's reaction and how that got them going on about Aizen being so adoringly protective. Ichigo rather purposefully tuned that part out.

He didn't bother paying attention to much of anything they were doing. At least, not until the first click of a camera.

"Oh, that's such'a good one!" Matsumoto squealed; her smile as bright as her hair.

"Aizen will love it," Unohana hummed.

"Forget Aizen-taichou, I'm keeping it for myself, he won't stay cute like this forever!"

"It really is a concern," Isane said on a sigh, eyes on the picture. "With how fast he grows…" She reached out and took the camera from Matsumoto, lifting it without preamble and snapping more in rapid succession, leaving Ichigo blinking spots from his vision curtesy of the over-enthusiastic flash.

He opened his mouth to complain, but arms wrapped around him, and he found himself hoisted against Hinamori's side. "Take one with the both of us. I want to frame it," she exclaimed, all smiles and cheer.

Ichigo froze. A deer in the head lights. Or, more accurately, caught in the suddenly hungry gazes of a group of women. Ichigo didn't like where this was going but he saw no way out.

Two.

Photos.

Each.

Two. With each of them there, because 'Ichi-nii needs them too!' and then a countless number with the whole group. The stacks of photos that he went home with were heavier than Shiro.

"I'm not going again," he announced as Unohana walked him back to the fifth.

"Of course," she agreed like a liar.

Ichigo grumbled, but didn't say anything more. Instead, he kicked a stone along the path, imagining it was Aizen's face. It wasn't nearly as cathartic as he wanted it to be, and before he even realized they were standing outside Aizen's office.

Unohana opened the door with a small smile and Ichigo shuffled inside, putting the photos down on the table before skirting around Aizen and plopping down at his back, book in hand and letting the familiar reiatsu wash over him. He'd have to kick this habit eventually. Soon. But not today. It wasn't like he was truly annoyed with the SWA meeting, or getting his photo taken. He was even a little touched that they thought to give him copies, but he was never partial photos when it came to remembering people or times. That was more Goat-face's thing.

Just the thought of his mother's giant photo plastered across the wall with his dad weeping about something or other that the twins or him had done made him want to shudder. At least he'd managed to save Yuzu and Karin from that particular memory.

"I thought you were with Yachiru today," Aizen said, pointed but still too-kind.

"She took me to a SWA meeting," Ichigo huffed.

"I offered to bring him back," Unohana said, stepping further into the room if the sound of her footsteps were anything to go by. "We took photos," she continued, and even though he couldn't see her, Ichigo could hear the gentle smile in her voice. It was a little creepy, really. Especially after the too-kind, too-stiff smile she'd been giving him when he tried to get out of the group photos.

"I see…" Aizen trailed off, voice politely intrigued but Ichigo was pressed back-to-back with him,

was bathed in his reiatsu, he could feel the confusion even as hidden as it was.

"I'll bring a scrapbook by so he'll have a place to store them," Unohana said.

Just as Ichigo was about to twist around to say thank you, there was the tell-tale sound of a camera shutter. Turning, Ichigo came face to face with Unohana pulling another photo from the camera. The camera that he'd sworn she'd left with Isane.

"Apologies," Unohana said, not sounding sorry at all, "but you two make such a cute picture right now, I couldn't help myself."

Aizen chuckled, the sound jostling Ichig slightly, "No need to apologize. It'll be nice to have a picture of him before he grows any bigger."

Ichigo scowled, not believing a word of it.

"Then perhaps a few more wouldn't hurt," Unohana hummed.

"Absolutely not," Ichigo protested.

"Just one more," Unohana said.

"No."

"Perhaps another day," Aizen said. Ichigo blinked in grateful surprise – he hadn't expected Aizen to take his side on this one, even if the man didn't want the photo either. It would tarnish his image of the doting and caring guardian too much. And yet… "He's already taken so many today, let him rest."

Unohana's smile remained gentle as she nodded, "I'll make a copy of this one then, and send it over with the scrapbook."

"Please do."

And then Unohana was saying her goodbyes and sweeping from the room and leaving Ichigo sitting there, back pressed against Aizen and trying not to enjoy the pressure of dense reishi. After a long moment of the only sound being the soft wisp of a brush on paper, Ichigo settled enough to start reading again. Aizen said nothing. No reprimand. No lecture about how to treat captains.

Nothing.

Twelve

Chapter Notes

as I said in the previous chapter's AN, this was supposed to be part of last chapter but then I kept hating it and rewriting it and almost honestly trashed it entirely, but well, now we're here and it's done so…

One of the upsides to Aizen's rather odd behavior, beyond spending his money, was getting to visit Gin more often. In other words, Gin, Yoruichi and him had finally managed to meet all at once rather than separately for the first time since he'd revealed the truth.

A perfect chance to discuss plans.

Not that Yoruichi seemed to get the memo. "I mean, really, just a few minutes with him and he'll regret ever being alive."

"No."

"Why not? He deserves it after-."

"No," he repeated.

"Are you sure? Because after what he did-."

"Goat-face hasn't done any of it yet!"

"Technicalities," Yoruichi said, waving his argument away like a pesky fly.

"She's gotta point, Ichi-berry," Gin jumped in. "Future or not, it still happened ta ya."

"Why is everyone talking about this!" He threw his hands up, frustration a welling thing in his chest; crawling with angry needles up his throat and making his jaw clench. From Aizen to Unohana to his own spirits and now to Yoruichi and Gin. Ichigo was fast becoming tired of defending Goat-face. Fast becoming tired of people telling him how he should feel about what happened. Fast becoming tired of having this thrown back in his face when he didn't want to think about it. Couldn't think about it. There was no time. He had to focus on taking down Aizen. On training. Had to see to keeping his family and friends safe and clearing the vizard's names and make sure the Gotei wouldn't go after the arrancar when all was said and done because they hadn't done anything yet. And simply existing wasn't a crime.

Had a million and one other things to think about. None of which left room for… for something that hardly mattered. Something that couldn't be changed.

"It's important."

It really, really wasn't.

They weren't saving or protecting anyone by digging it up again and again. What would admitting to it even accomplish? Nothing.

Ichigo wasn't stupid. He knew that avoiding these kinds of issues let them fester. But he wasn't avoiding it. Not forever anyway. Just. Just not now. Not when he was carrying his world on his back and the fate of the three realms on his shoulders.

Unohana had said it best anyway.

He'd deal with it when he felt safe.

"We have more important things to deal with like stopping Aizen." Ichigo only just kept himself from snapping the words out. A deep breath and he asked, "How do you even know?"

"Your mom and I talk," she sniffed delicately.

Of course they did.

"Yeah, well, I already talked with him. I already forgave him. There's nothing left to it."

"Isn't there?" Yoruichi raised a brow, "You say you forgave him, but you don't even think there's something to forgive. Explain that to me, hm?"

Ichigo opened his mouth but nothing came out.

"Or, are you ready to admit he did something wrong?"

"This Goat-face did do nothing wrong."

"But your future one did."

"Yes! Okay?!" Ichigo snapped out, louder than he meant to and tasting like being stabbed felt. "He sent me to war and abandoned us after mom died, but it wasn't like there were other options. I was the only one who could take on Aizen. And it was my fault she was attacked by that hollow."

It was awful, Ichigo realized with stinging clarity, to be the one who remembered.

Yoruichi gave him a long look. "I think," she started, slow but with confidence, "that it's time you learned to forgive yourself and to stop confusing acceptance for forgiveness."

Acceptance? That was what she thought this was? Something vicious swelled, an inferno, an earth- shaking tremor, and it was all Ichigo could do not to snap. He'd crawled his way back to his spirits; had been shoved back in time and died for them. Had let himself be swept away to Soul Society. Away from his sisters. His alive mother. Just to have the chance to change things. And she thought-

A hand fell into his hair and ruffled it just shy of too-hard. "They aren't the same, Ichi-berry. And you shouldn't just accept that kind of parenting, ya'know?"

"Anyway," Ichigo said, a touch too loud but not caring, "we should figure out when I'm supposed to kill Aizen, because I have it on good authority that he'll kick my ass if I try now." He ignored the way his chest was too small when he said it. The way he was out of breath and strangled and- no. No. He couldn't be feeling any of those things because it was Aizen's death they were about to discuss and he should be elated.

Gin and Yoruichi looked at each other and then back at him with creepily matching expressions.

"What," Ichigo snapped when they continued to stare at him.

"We weren't going to let you kill him," Yoruichi said slowly.

"That's our job."

"What. Since when?"

"Ichigo," Yoruichi said slowly, "you're twelve. We're not letting you go off and kill someone."

"I'm not actually twelve. I'll be twenty-two by the time Aizen puts his plans into action," Ichigo countered, scowl fierce and arms crossed. "And so what? You all sent me off to fight him last time."

She blinked slow, "You're not the only one who came make up for past mistakes, Ichigo."

It was a slap to the face. No. More like being thrown into an ice-filled pool on a summer's day. The chill chasing over his skin, earning a shocking gasp as he tried to breath.

That couldn't be right. He must have heard it wrong because…

Ichigo didn't let himself think about what it meant that Yoruichi thought him facing Aizen as he had, using the Final Getsuga Tenshou, losing his soul were mistakes. Not just something to be fixed now but mistakes that shouldn't have been made. And ones not made by Ichigo but by her.

And he assuredly didn't think about how there was relief in knowing he didn't have to kill Aizen himself. Not enough. But relief, all the same. Relief that he ignored. He'd cross that bridge when he got there.

Instead, he asked, "Then we'll be going after him sooner?"

"We don't know if we can."

"Ya see," Gin jumped in, smile nowhere to be found, "if it were just 'bout presentin' evidence of his crimes, I would'a killed him already. But he has'ta be da one ta reveal himself or no one would believe what we're sayin'."

"And if we kill him before then the Gotei won't stop to listen to us," Yoruichi tagged on. "Especially because it is oh so helpfully clearing our names in the process."

"Right," Ichigo huffed, mostly to himself. "Then we have until I'm supposed to be fifteen to figure something out. And look, I know you said it wasn't my job to kill Aizen-."

"Because it isn't."

"But, I can still help. Between Muramasa and training in quincy and hollow abilities…" The last of which Shiro had grown increasingly insistent on in the past month because 'all ya learned was a door, Kingy, that's no fun at all'. "Aizen doesn't know about any of that." He didn't need to say that they'd need every advantage they could get.

"Alright," Yoruichi said at length, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. "But no sacrificial plays, got it?"

Ichigo rolled his eyes, "I have no plans to lose my spirits again, thank you."

"That's not the only sacrifice you can make, Ichi-berry," she said, sing-song and cheerful. "Now tell us what you've been working on, we can work it into the plan."

Ichigo snorted, entirely exacerbated but complied all the same. He told them about Muramasa's abilities first. The manifesting when he went into bankai, the new shikai ability, that nothing else had really changed – thankfully, because Ichigo wasn't sure how he'd juggle three swords at once. Then about Ossan's training in ambient reishi manipulation and transfer; how it could move to draining someone. How he was going to train with his mom next time he could sneak away. Told them about his improvements in kido; slow as they were.

And in turn, Gin revealed his own bankai ability. A terrifyingly potent poison.

A perfectly terrifyingly potent poison that could very well be the key to them taking down Aizen. All they needed to do was prevent him from running off with the death-ball and ensure they take him and Tousen down before they were able to run off to Hueco Mundo.

"He'll want it ta be just as dramatic, I imagine," Gin snickered once Ichigo finished describing the details of what happened the first time around.

Ichigo rolled his eyes, "Of course." But that… that brought up the question of how, because- "Wait, if he doesn't have me to cause enough chaos with the invasion to stretch everyone thin on the investigation of his death, then…" Then what? "And without Rukia…" He'd need another way to get the death-ball to Soul Society and within his reach.

A chill ran down his spine.

"My sisters."

A hand gripped tightly around his wrist and he was pulled back down to sit.

When had he even gotten up?

"Your sisters are safe, Ichigo," Yoruichi told him as Gin let his wrist go. "Urahara and I are watching them, and now that your mom and dad know what's coming…"

"But if Aizen-."

"We've got it handled," Yoruichi stressed. "You aren't doing this on your own."

"I know that," he huffed, scowl fierce as fire. "But that doesn't mean I won't do my best to protect them. They're my sisters."

"Who Aizen won't be getting his hands on, I assure you," Yoruichi said. "Besides, why would he go after your sisters? He spends all this time indoctrinating you, and then attacks your family?"

Ichigo had to admit she was right. It didn't make sense, but that didn't stop the worry clawing through his chest. "Then who?"

"We don't know," Gin said with a shrug. "But from what I've been gatherin' he doesn't plan on usin' someone ta deliver it ta him. He might just be plannin' on takin' it. Or getting' the Gotei to raid Urahara's shop."

"Or making me do it."

"Or that," Gin hummed.

Great. So they didn't even know Aizen's next play. But…

But at least his sisters were safe from it all. Ichigo felt a stirring flutter of hope in his chest. A thing

with wings and a sweet song that he wasn't sure what to do with.

Except, maybe, to go forward.

And moving forward meant more than just taking care of Aizen. "What about the vizard?"

"What about them?" Yoruichi asked. "Urahara is still looking into things, and they're more than ready for revenge against-."

"No, no, I mean, their hollows. I could- well, Shiro and I may be a bit different but we worked things out and get along. I could help them get there too."

Yoruichi blinked, "I'll ask."

Ichigo nodded. It was as good a start as any.