Twelve

Chapter Notes

writing phase, writing phase, writing phase (づ )づ (づ )づ (づ )づ

Whatever forces governed the universe either hated him or simply loved to see how he'd react to practically impossible things. From being turned into a Shinigami to splitting his own soul to time- travel to caring about Aizen. And now to stepping out of his garganta to come face to face with Orihime and Tatsuki.

"I swear I saw it!" Orihime was saying with her usual exuberance. She was squatting in front of a thick bush some ways off the sidewalk and pulling gently at the branches to part them.

Tatsuki stood there in her school uniform, backpack slung over her shoulder and hands on her hips, "And I'm telling you, there aren't any land-octopuses in Japan. Come on, we'll be late."

"But what if it's hurt, 'Suki-chan!"

Tatsuki rolled her eyes, "We'll come back after school, okay?"

Orihime tentatively stepped back from the bush, giving a soft nod before following her friend. Tatsuki immediately latched onto her, winding their arms together and the second Orihime glanced back at the bush she was already tugging her forward a step faster.

"What'd you bring for lunch today, 'Hime?"

"Apple-berry salad with tuna and vinegar," Orihime said cheerfully. "My brother also gave me some money for strawberry milk!"

Tatsuki's smile turned indulgent, "Sounds delicious."

"I think so too," Orihime chimed, starting to skip. "And brother promised to take me to the new candy shop after school today, too. Do you think your parents will let you come?"

"I don't know. I have a match coming up and Dad says I need to practice more."

"But you're already so strong."

Without thinking, Ichigo nodded in agreement, "She'll get first place easily."

It was only when they didn't respond that the illusion shattered like glass, and Ichigo was hit with the reality that they couldn't see him.

Tentatively he reached out, and watched as his hand passed right through Tatsuki's shoulder. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a breath. What had he thought would happen? Without him in their lives, constantly leaking reiatsu, they would never be able to see him. They'd have no reiatsu. No powers. They'd live ordinary lives; no war, no invasions, no fear or death or injury.

It was better this way.

They would be happier.

He should step back and let them live as they should have the first time around.

But like all people he cared about, he couldn't let them go that easily. And for all he knew it made him sound like a creep – even in his own mind – he followed them to school. He had time after all. Aizen would be stuck in the semi-annual captain and lieutenant meeting for the whole day and hopefully into the night. There was no harm in making sure they got to school safely.

He made sure there were no stray hollows or speeding cars or murderers lurking around corners.

When the gates of the school came into view he slowed, intending to let them be and head home to check on his mom and wait for his sisters to return from their own school. Except, he spotted one of the bullies that used to pick on Orihime and found himself instead flash-stepping to catch back up. What if they tried to pick on her? Tatsuki was here, of course, and she could punch anyone out, but what if the bully waited until Tatsuki was distracted? Or said something awful and then played innocent when the teacher came to break up the fight?

"King," Shiro said. "You-."

"-can't do anything, I know."

Still, he stayed until they were in their seats in the classroom. The sight of the rows of chairs and desks neatly organized with students starting to settle for the morning was a punch to the gut. This more than anything had him feel the weight of stepping back in time. Of the consequences. Of that fact he'd never be one of these kids. Not again. He'd never laugh of Keigo's stupid jokes, or listen to Orihime's babbling stories and explanations. Never feel the calm assurance of having Chad at his side or Tatsuki at his back. Never throw Ishida a smug smile when he topped the class and beat the quincy out. Never share lunch or brag about his sister's cooking.

They would always be his friends.

But in this lifetime he'd never be theirs.

He stood in the doorway watching the bustle of the morning and trying to breath around the building grief in his chest. A grief he didn't know how to handle or truly name. Should he cradle it? Preserve it in memory for all he lost?

"Take you seats," the teacher said as she stepped into the room, walking right through him. Ichigo didn't remember her name. Didn't even remember having a class with both Ishida and Orihime in it at this age. But here he was staring at the evidence of all he'd given up in an effort to protect it.

This was what he was fighting for.

This was what he needed to put aside his care for Aizen in order to preserve.

"Can I go to the bathroom?" Ishida asked, lowering his hand when the teacher looked over at him.

The teacher sighed, giving Ishida a pointed look, "You may, but next time go before I need to start rollcall."

Ishida nodded, and stood smoothly from his seat with the same kind of grace that Tatsuki had. He must have been training already then. Which also meant that the look he was shooting at Ichigo was actually for Ichigo.

His heart sped up.

If there was anything good in the world then this would mean he hadn't lost all his friends. With a kindling hope he stood transfixed in the doorway as Ishida came closer closer closer and grabbed Ichigo's wrist. He had time to suck in a sharp breath before he was being dragged down the hall and into the boy's bathroom. The second the door swung shut, Ishida was rounding on him, hands fisted at his side and chin tipped up to hide his obvious wariness.

"What are you doing here?" Ishida demanded. Because of course Ishida would be arrogant and confrontational enough to demand a Shinigami tell him something. The sheer familiarity had him smiling.

"Ichigo."

Ishida blinked, "I don't know any students by that name. Are they-."

He rolled his eyes, "It's my name, idiot."

"I didn't ask for you name," Ishida puffed up, "and I'm not an idiot!"

Oh, Ichigo thought, he was adorable this young. So easily riled. "It's only polite," he said. "You bring me into a bathroom and start questioning me without even telling me your name. My mom would be furious if I did something like that."

"Shinigami have moms?"

"Why was that a question? Of course- just because you die doesn't mean you stop having a mom," he huffed, his usual scowl starting to replace his smile.

"How was I supposed to know," Ishida shot back. "I've never met a Shinigami before."

"Well, now you have."

"That still doesn't explain what you're doing here."

"None of your business," Ichigo said and watched in glee as Ishida turned red.

"This school is under my protection," Ishida hissed. His usual composed disposition broken with only the one teasing jab. It reminded him of that time he'd convinced Ishida his weapon was talking to him when he'd lost his mind over zanpakuto having wills. Maybe he should… No. Not now, anyway. There'd be time for that later. That and convincing him to spar. "So whatever you're doing here is my business."

Ishida probably thought he sounded cool saying that. Hell, Ichigo would have thought that was a cool thing to say even just a handful of years ago. Now, looking at this little kid, it only made him want to ruffle Ishida's hair.

"I'm not here to send any souls on," he said, offering a proverbial olive branch. Poking fun at Ishida was fun, but if he wanted to rekindle some of their friendship then this would be the best way to do it. It wouldn't be exactly the same, he knew, but Ishida would always be Ishida and dragging him into a friendship felt right. "And I'm not tracking any hollows."

"Then why-."

He flicked Ishida's forehead, "Don't interrupt. I'm- I used to go here. I was just reminiscing."

Ishida's eyes narrowed.

"You don't know what that means do you?"

"I know what it means."

"Then tell me."

"No."

"Why not."

"I don't have to listen to you."

Ichigo rolled his eyes, "It means remembering, idiot."

"I'm not an idiot. I'm first in my class."

"The class you're currently missing in order to talk with a dead person in the toilet?"

"I- shut up."

"Oh, pity. And I was just about to tell you about the secret missions I was sent here on."

"That's- you-."

"Me," Ichigo nodded, taking a step back. "Go back to class, Ishida. You wouldn't want to lose your top spot." He ducked out the door just as he finished speaking and flashed away. Now that he knew at least one of his friends could see him, this would be far from the last time he'd drop by.

In the meantime, he was going to spend the day how he'd intended it; with his mom.

His mom was reading a book when he arrived.

She was tucked into the side of the couch, the TV on mute, her knees drawn up and hair pulled into a bun that was more of a tangled mess than any actual style with loose strands spilling over her well-worn sweater. There was a plate of half-eaten cake and fruit balanced precariously on the arm of the couch that he was sure would spill into her lap at any second. She looked ethereal.

"I'm home," he called out softly.

His mom's head whipped around, eyes as if she were a deer in headlights, already pushing up from the sofa. She spotted him and froze. "Ichigo," she whispered or prayed or endeared or all three. It came out like hope and cracked something in him. All at once she was scrambling to her feet, the plate of cake and fruit spilling onto her sweater and the floor and cushions in equal parts but she didn't pause to care, instead flung herself forward and her arms wide and scooped him into a bone- crushing hug filling his senses with vanilla and strawberry and home.

"You've grown so much," she muffled into his hair where she'd buried herself.

He held her tighter, "I'm sorry I wasn't here for Yuzu and Karin's birthday. I meant to, but-."

"No, no, my darling, don't you dare apologize," she interrupted, pulling back to run her hands through his hair and over his face and shoulders where they settled and squeezed. "We'll celebrate again tonight if you want to, I'm sure the girls would love it. But, oh, look at you… so much taller now. So much more handsome too," she said with a wink. "Are you getting enough to eat? Sleeping well? Studying hard?"

"Yes, Mom," he said dutifully.

"Good, good," she hummed, her eyes still greedily roving over his face. "How much time do we have? Your father is out for the day but he'll be back after picking the girls up tonight."

"Aizen has a meeting all day," he told her with a growing smile.

She nodded and then pulled him back into a hug, "You have to tell me everything. Come, we can bake a cake and talk."

They made a strawberry cake, because for all his mom said his name meant one protector, she took at much joy in its double meaning as Rukia and Yoruichi and Gin.

He was in the middle of telling his mom about Muramasa when the phone rang. His mom's smile never left her face, but it tightened, "Hold that though, Ichigo. Hello? Soken, it's been too long. I'm doing wonderfully, how have you been? That's great to hear, but I'm sorry to say this is a bad time to call, perhaps-," her gaze slid over to Ichigo. "I understand. One moment, I'll ask him. Ichigo, dear, did you drop by school today?"

He blinked, confused, but nodded all the same.

"Yes, he did. Of course, I understand," his mother's expression tightened a fraction more before clearing and turning thoughtful. "I… suppose we could but it would have to be today. I know just the place." And then she was rattling off the address to Hat-an-clog's poor excuse of a shop. "Let's say in an hour? Yes, yes. Take care. You, too. Bye."

She turned to him then, "What do you say to a bit of a family reunion?"

"Family reunion?"

She hummed and waved her hand as if to brush away any confusion or doubt, "It's close enough."

"I get the feeling I don't have a choice."

"It'll be good for you. He had a grandson about your age, you know."

Ichigo raised a brow, he had a suspicion about where this was going, "I'm not actually twelve."

Her smile tipped a bit too far to the side to be happy, "I know, love. It's hard to remember sometimes when you're still so young and cute."

"Mom!" he complained more for the show than anything else.

"Now, follow me, I have something for you," she said, starting towards the stairs and leaving the cake batter on the counter. "It's about time I gave this to you, lord knows it's not doing me any use. Not anymore."

She led him up the stairs and to her room where she brought a box down from the back of her closet. Ichigo watched as she offered it a small smile and brushed her fingertips over the dusted

top. "This," she said softly, turning to him, "was mine before my powers were sealed away for my safety." Pressing the box into his hand she continued, "Now, it's yours to use. I'll show you how, of course, but… maybe it's selfish to hope you'll take after me in this as well." She slid the lid off to reveal a beautiful and delicate bracelet. A cross dangled from the end. A very familiar cross.

"This is-." His head shot up to meet her eyes.

"My quincy cross, yes."

"Mom," he said, not sure what else he could say.

"It's yours now, Ichigo." She ran a hand throw his hair, "I'll teach you all I can, okay? Now that you're- Now that you're in Soul Society, I can't protect you as a mother should. But I can do this." Pulling the bracelet from the box she clipped it around his wrist, "It's a little big, but I'm sure you'll grow into it."

He threw himself at her, burring his head into her shoulder and willing his eyes to stop tearing up, "I love it. I love it and I love you and-."

"I love you, too," she said on a wet laugh, letting herself drop to the ground to hold him closer. "No matter what, no matter who you're against you come to me, hm? You come to me and let me handle it."

They both knew he couldn't.

He nodded anyway.

She pressed a kiss to his head, then pulled back. "We should get everything cleaned and get ready," she said.

"Mom," he started as they made their way back downstairs, his fingers still tracing each dip and engraving of his new bracelet, "do you know any healing techniques?"

She looked back at him, "I only know the most basic, but Soken is an expert. I can ask him to train you, if you like."

He nodded, "I've been thinking of joining the fourth. It's the medic division. I was thinking of becoming a field medic."

"Oh, Ichigo, that's a wonderful idea!" she said, beaming bright and happy and so full that Ichigo almost staggered under its weight.

He couldn't help but smile back.

Apparently, meeting at Hat-an-clogs was his mom hitting two birds with one stone. Not only did it give them a place with a training ground, but it also meant she could bully him and Hat-an-clogs into a check-up. Not that either needed much convincing, but the smile she gave them both said that if they didn't comply there would be consequences.

Who was he to ever say no to his mom?

Which led him to once again sitting in Urahara's labs with too many wires and machines attached

to him and far too many questions needing answers.

No, he didn't have any more problems with exhaustion or sudden intense pain.

No, he didn't lose time in if he went into a garganta anymore. Yes, he was sure, how else would he be there?

Yes, his spirits were fine.

Yes, he's been working on his new abilities.

No, Aizen didn't know, but he had brought him to Szayel.

That had them going into a long discussion of repercussions and what Aizen did and didn't know now and why he would do it and what they could do in the meantime.

"I've noticed," he said slowly when Hat-an-clogs asked about other symptoms, "that I've been acting and- feeling more like a child recently." Even just saying the words left him scowling.

Hat-an-clogs blinked, "That, my dear boy, is probably due to your hormone levels and the way others have been treating you." He gave an annoyingly large smile, "Or, you're getting too comfortable in your mask! Don't worry, Ichi-chan, it happens to the best of us!"

Ichigo bared his teeth, "You mean I just have to stop pretending?"

His stupid fan nearly slapped him in the face as he gestured with it, "It certainly wouldn't hurt."

"So I'm fine now," he said then; the sooner this was over the sooner he'd be able to train with his mom and that definitely took priority here.

Urahara spun around, clicked several buttons, ripped an exceedingly long stretch of paper from a machine and began to run calculations. All while humming and twirling his twice-damned fan.

Ichigo rolled his eyes with a sigh, what was with scientists? With nothing else to do, he started pulling off the wires and his clothes back on before fiddling with the quincy cross his mom had gifted him. He'd need to think of a way to hide it. There would be too many in Soul Society that would recognize the symbol and question where he got it and why he had it. Aizen included.

He glanced back up at Hat-an-clogs, where he was reaching the end of the overly-long paper. Finally.

And then the humming stopped.

"Just tell me."

Twelve

Chapter Notes

This chapter took a bit longer to get out mostly because it deals with some topics that I felt I needed to let sit with me for a bit as their quite dear to my heart and I'm sure to some of you as well.

Regardless, enjoy! 3

The "living room" joke came from one of my students and it had me pausing class for a good minute so i felt obligated to include it (yes i have a horrible sense of humor, but i have to admit it's funnier when this little six year old tells it to you with all the confidence of a chihuahua...)

for the archery practice scene I used my knowledge of modern-day shooting styles that I learned, and while in the show the stance for holding the bow is different in the anchor-points, I don't think the principles are all that different? If they are, then please let me know!

"Ichigo, I'd like you to meet an old friend, Ishida Soken," his mom said with a smile. Old friend was certainly an apt description. The man that stood before them was the opposite of imposing; standing in Hat-an-clog's expansive training room he looked almost small. Hunched over at the shoulders, dressed in light colors that all quincy seemed to favor – even his mustache matched – and wire-framed glasses. But Ichigo had learned the danger in underestimating someone. If this was the man who trained Ishida then he was a force to be reconned with for sure. "Soken, this is my son, Ichigo."

"It's nice to meet you," Ichigo said with a respectful if slightly short bow because he wasn't about to disappoint his mom.

"No need for that, my boy," Soken said warmly, eyes crinkling. "I'm simply glad to meet Masaki's son. You and my grandson here shall get along splendidly, I can tell already."

"Grandfather," Ishida muttered his complaint.

"Ishida here is top of his class and I've been training him in the quincy arts for, oh, a year or two now," Soken bragged, eyes glimmering in pride and delight.

Ichigo didn't think he'd ever seen Ishida so red. Like a tomato. A very cute, murderous tomato with a very shiny bow. If Rukia ever saw him, she'd lose her mind.

"You must be proud of him," his mom said with cheer. "Ichigo here is only just starting his training. I'm sure you can understand why."

"Certainly," Soken said, his eyes taking in Ichigo's Shinigami uniform and zanpakuto. "Both Shinigami and quincy, hm? Even in my old age it seems the world can still surprise."

"It's actually lucky you called," his mom went on, "as Ichigo is looking to learn healing techniques. As I'm sure you're aware, I only know the basics, so I wondering…"

"Say no more," Soken chuckled, "I'd be delighted to include Ichigo in my lessons with Ishida."

"Thank you," his mom said with a smile.

"Thank you, Ishida-san," he said dutifully.

"Just call me grandfather," Soken said and reached out to pat Ichigo's head. "We're practically family, after all."

"Thank you… Grandfather." Despite how odd it felt to say, the look on Ishida's face alone was worth it. Eyebrow twitching, deadly stare. At this rate he'd be able to wheedle a spar from his friend in no time.

"Like this," his mom instructed, showing him the proper stance again. "Archery is about being able to repeat your stance accurately again and again. Once you can consistently hit your target, then we can try moving at the same time while still coming back to your anchor points."

"Yes, Mom."

He wasn't allowed to start with his own reiatsu-built bow. Instead, it was a traditional wooden one that Soken had brought along with him. It wasn't nearly as heavy as he'd expected it to be, but the muscles needed to pull back on it was a shock the first time he tried. However, even getting to that point had taken a good half-hour. His mom had listed off rule after rule about when and where and how to shoot. From stance, to different styles, to modern and traditional. She'd punctuated each explanation with waves of her hands and pointing at different parts of the bow. Passion. That was what she was showing. Sheer passion.

"It won't matter as much when you construct your own, but make sure to keep your hand a bit loose, Ichigo. And twist your arm out, if you keep it like that, the string will hit your inner wrist and you'll be black and blue before you know it."

"Like this?"

"Perfect, sweetheart!" His mom nudged his shoulder a little more and then stepped back. "Now, for the release you don't want to let go of the string so much as no longer be holding it."

That made no sense.

"Smoothly uncurl your fingers so that the string is no longer in your hand but isn't disturbed by that. Don't pluck it. Your arrow won't fly true if you do." She pulled her own imaginary bow back to demonstrate, and Ichigo watched the way her fingers uncurled in elegant if exaggerated – for his benefit – slowness. In that way, he could see that they wouldn't pull the string back further or to either side.

Right. No plucking. He could do that.

Ten arrows later, with all of them going too wide and he found that he could not, in fact, do it. That it was harder than he thought. From the smile on his mom's face, however, he figured this was what she expected. It made the blow to his ego a bit more manageable.

Soken had come over at some point to watch and that, of course, meant Ishida took a break in his

own training to watch as well. Another ten arrows. Another ten hits too-wide of the target.

"Don't worry," his mom said, "it takes practice."

He wasn't worried; not at all.

"You know," Ishida said, coming up to stand next to him as Soken and his mom went to get tea and snacks, "for a Shinigami you suck at this."

"Shinigami don't use bows, we use zanpakuto. A zanpakuto is-."

"I know what a zanpakuto is," Ishida interrupted with a huff. "It's your sword."

"Did you know it has a spirit inside it that connects it to my soul?"

Ishida's eyes went wide, locking on his still-sealed blade. He covered up what curious amazement had slipped through quickly, though. "Yeah, right. There's no way a spirit is in there."

Ichigo nodded, "You're right-."

"I knew it!"

"-There's three spirits." Ichigo schooled his features into seriousness.

"How's that even possible?" Ishida snapped, puffing up his cheeks slightly, "Did you- did you trap them in there or something?"

Ichigo blinked, that- that was too tempting. "Only one of them, but they like it now."

"That's horrible!" Ishida cried out, "How could you- I'm telling Grandfather!"

"Then I'll just trap you in here first!" he announced with far too much glee and a smile that was perhaps a tinge too Shiro-inspired for such a young Ishida.

Ishida stared at him, open mouthed. Like a fish.

Then he dropped his own practice bow and ran. Ichigo glanced behind him at the ladder. Where did he think he was going?

Ichigo followed after at a more sedated pace. At least at first. When Ishida had disappeared around a rock pile, he gave proper chase. It'd been so long since he sparred with the other that it made him almost giddy to do so now. It was invigorating. Like taking the first chilling breath of winter. Like fireworks lit under his skin and bursting with a kaleidoscope.

He knew his smile was unhinged. He didn't care.

Vaulting over the pile of rocks with some well-timed bursts of reiatsu had him landing silently behind Ishida. Ishida who had a well and true quincy bow drawn at the ready. Giving it a moment's thought, he stood and with far less force than he normally used, pushed Ishida to the ground between his shoulder blades. With his foot. The bow and arrow dissipated to the sound of a surprised cry.

"What are you doing?!"

"What am I doing?" Ichigo said, "Sparring. Having fun. Call it what you want."

"You call this a spar?"

"Yep." He stepped back, letting Ishida sit up.

"You're not going to steal my soul and seal it in your sword?"

Ichigo crossed his arms, "It's crowded enough."

The disbelieving look he received was going to fuel him for ages.

"So," he said, taking another step back, "do you want to spar?"

Ishida fixed his glasses and dusted himself off as he stood up. "Grandfather says you need an adult to spar."

"Really?" He'd never known Ishida to back down from a challenge.

"Yes, really," he insisted.

"Alright," Ichigo said slowly, "then what do you want to do?"

By the time his mom and Soken-ji came back down, he'd turned a good portion of Ishida's yarn or string or whatever it was into a huge knot. It hadn't been his intention, but knitting was hard. And clearly not for him. Despite Ishida's best efforts at instructing him and stopping him before a mistake became too irreversible.

Like it now was.

"I don't even know how you did this," Ishida muttered, trying to untangle the knot while Ichigo was exiled to a rock several steps away.

"I did what you said," Ichigo protested. He'd tried to follow, honestly, but he got lost somewhere along the way or skipped something and now they were here. Ichigo felt a bit bad. "I could help?"

"Don't you dare," Ishida said immediately.

He huffed, letting himself settle more comfortably with his legs crossed and head resting in a palm.

"What are you boys up to?" his mom asked as she settled some of the snacks onto another rock. Ichigo moved to help her, taking a plate of sliced apples and peaches from the basket she'd stored everything in.

"I tried to knit."

"You failed to knit," Ishida corrected.

"Yeah." He took an apple slice to Ishida, "But it was fun. And I'll get you new yarn."

"Thanks," Ishida mumbled almost automatically as he took the offered food.

"Now that Mom's back, do you want to spar?"

"Is that all you think about?"

"No? It's just a great way to make friends."

"You make friends by bashing each other with things?" Ishida said doubtfully.

"Most of my friends tried to kill me at some point." He shrugged. You included, he didn't say. Although he supposed Ishida hadn't tried to kill him so much as accidently almost got them all killed thanks to his little hollow bait.

"You're weird."

"So… spar?"

"Maybe next time," his mom intervened, "we still need to finish the cake at home and get home to see the girls and your dad. Now, finish the fruits, boys. I don't want any of it going to waste, and when you're done, we can do a few more rounds with the bows."

Ichigo had never finished a plate of apples so fast in his life. Or death.

Before they left, he made sure to usher the others out of the training ground. If he was going to keep the cross then he'd need a place to hide it and what better way then wrapped around the hilt of his bankai?

If it were ever revealed, all his cards would be on the table. All his secrets laid bare. So what point would there be in hiding his true nature at that point?

Later, on the way home, when the sun still had a fair few hours before it started to set in earnest, he found himself asking, "Mom, why don't you use your quincy cross anymore?"

His mom glanced down at him, her bright orange hair framed by blue sky and the puffiest white clouds he'd ever seen. "That's a long story," she said, starting to walk slower, "it has to do with how your father and I met."

Goat-face always said his mom had saved his life and he'd fallen in love at once. He'd always thought it was an exaggeration.

Apparently, it wasn't.

His parent's meeting was actually a fairy-tale. Or something like it. Girl saves boy and then boy saves girl and they fall in love. It was sweet. Except for the part where his mother had to seal away her powers because she was infected by a hollow.

"I don't regret it," she told him at the end, "it brought me you and your sisters. I'd never regret anything that led me to you three." She paused then, only a block away from home, "And Ichigo, I know your father perhaps wasn't the best after I passed-."

"It's fine, Mom," he interrupted before he could stop himself, "I already forgave him and it wasn't that bad."

"I think we have very different definitions of 'that bad'," his mom said slowly. "Ichigo, sweetheart, he sent you to war." Ichigo opened his mouth but he closed it at the look on his mother's face, "Let me finish. I understand that you do not hold anything against your father, but I want you to know

that it's okay to be mad. It's okay to not be okay with someone you love doing something bad."

He knew his mom had a point; he'd already talked about this with Yoruichi and Gin and Aizen and Unohana and his spirits. Again and again and again. And while he appreciated their support, it all felt too much like they were expecting him to feel one way and when he failed to, he somehow wasn't right. Wasn't handling his own grief and his own loss and his own childhood correctly.

"Dad wasn't always around," he said simply. "You died and Dad got depressed. That wasn't anyone's fault," he declared. Easily. Because it was the truth. "And, yes, I went to war. But I did it knowingly and to save a friend and then to save everyone. I was the only one who could face Aizen then. And in the end…" He took a breath. "In the end it worked out because now I'm here and I saved you, and others and I'll stop the war before it even starts."

His mother's smile was brittle and bittersweet, "That shouldn't be your responsibility."

"It had to go to someone," he said resolutely. "At least I can handle it and try to make things better."

His mom nodded, but it was hardly one of agreement. Acceptance, perhaps. Support. But not agreement. "We've gotten a bit off topic, don't you think?" She started back home, one slow step after another, "After you left the last time, your father and I talked. He was horrified by what you and Aizen had said. We both were. Depressed or not, he was your father and should have taken care of you and the twins. Especially after I died."

"I said it was okay."

"But I don't think it is."

"Mom, what are you saying?"

She sighed, "Don't make that face, Ichigo. Nothing bad is happening. Your father and I simply talked. And now you and I are talking because I don't want you to be shocked when we get home and he starts apologizing. And I don't want you to say it's fine, either. Because it's not. You may have forgiven him. May have accepted what happened and continue to love him. There is nothing wrong with that, it's your choice, but that doesn't make his actions right."

Ah, he thought. She and Yoruichi truly had been talking, except, his mom actually understood.

"As long as he doesn't start crying," Ichigo said, arms crossing and scowl covering up the odd churn of emotions inside him. "You know, he used to keep a giant poster of you hung on the wall and cried at it every time the twins or I did something."

The sadness in his mom's expression cleared slightly at the idea, "Your father's always been eccentric."

"You like that he did that," he accused.

His mom laughed, light and airy, "I think it's sweet." And then she was swinging the door open, slipping her shoes off, and calling out, "We're home!"

There was an odd shuffling of footsteps and his father came hobbling into view with Karin clinging to his back like a monkey and Yuzu wrapped firmly around his leg, both chanting 'cake, cake, cake' lowly but menacingly only pausing to briefly welcome their mom home. "Masaki!" his dad cried out, "Look what our children are doing to their poor dad!" And then his eyes fell on Ichigo and he froze. The goofy smile slipping, the exaggerated overbalancing as he teetered on one leg

forgotten, "Ichigo, you're home."

"I'm home," he said. "I can stay until tonight, but if you start crying then I'll leave right now, Goat-face."

He started crying anyway. Of course. Throwing himself forward while simultaneously managing to maneuver the girls into his arms before scooping up Ichigo as well into a giant hug that had the air punching out of him.

"All our children are home!" he cried out, far too loudly. Especially when Ichigo was hit at the same time with the fact Yuzu and Karin were both staring right at him. "Masaki, we must celebrate!"

"Perhaps you should put the children down first, dear," his mom said, hand coming up to cover her laughing smile even if it couldn't hide the way her eyes sparkled. "I think Karin and Yuzu are a little lost."

"As smart as she is beautiful!" his dad declared, "Now, where to have a family meeting of this degree? Ah! To the living room!" And he was off, carrying them to the couch with far too much energy. And then with only one foot half-inside the room he paused.

"Would you move already, Goat-face?"

"But Ichigo, this is the living room. You can't go in."

Ichigo was going to kill him. The sheer idiocy of the joke should have killed him already, but clearly Ichigo would have to do it himself.

Yuzu snorted slightly, before catching herself.

"Dad!" Karin whined, kicking out at Goat-face's thigh. "No one wants to hear your stupid puns!"

"Gah! Attacked so viciously by my own daughter!" Goat-face gasped, "How can I ever go on!"

Yuzu giggled louder this time.

"Put me down or I'll make sure you can't," Ichigo huffed.

"Such betrayal," Goat-face said, stumbling several steps forward and Ichigo just knew where this was going before he even started falling. If he hadn't twisted at the last second, flopping onto the couch back-first, they would have been squashed.

Yuzu's giggled mixed with Karin's rather loud complaints which themselves were practically drowning in laughter. Their mom watched on from the end of the couch, shoulders shaking in silent laughter.

This, Ichigo knew, was heaven.

"If you're done," he said, wiggling free.

"Girls," his mother said, voice still thick with humor, "we'd like you to meet your brother. Ichigo."

"You're Ichigo?" Yuzu sucked in a shocked breath, turning to him with wide eyes and curiosity. Looking at him. His arms fell to his side at the realization; at the full realization. They could see him. They could see him. They could-

"You can see me?"

"You're all fuzzy," Karin jumped in, scooting forward to sit on Goat-face's stomach, and causing him to let out an oof. "But I can tell you have the same hair as mom."

They could hear him too.

Ichigo stood there dumbstruck, mouth agape.

His sisters couldn't see him, not properly. But they could see his outline, his blurred, fuzzy form, and most of all they could hear him and that was enough to take the weight of everything that he has had to let go of in coming back.

His fingers twitched to reach out and ruffle their hair. To reach out and protect. Instead, he balled them into fists. He wasn't willing to find out if he could touch them or not. Not yet. Let him keep this high for a little longer.

"Are- are you upset?" Yuzu asked as the silence stretched.

Ichigo shut his gaping mouth with a click, trying to swallow around all the words filling him. Trying to find the right ones.

"He's turned into a fish," Goat-face said.

"Really?" Yuzu asked doubtfully, fisting a hand into Karin's shirt. "He looks the same."

"Goat-face is joking," he said, finally finding his voice again. "He's just terrible at it."

Karin snorted, "Good. Now it's three to two."

"Mom thinks dad is hi-hilar- funny."

"That's because Mom's too nice," Ichigo decided, crossing his arms with a nod.

"Are you really dead?" Karin blurted, throwing Ichigo for a loop. Where had that come from? Then again, he supposed it would seem weird to be talking to him if he actually was.

"Yes?" he said, scratching his cheek. "I'm a Shinigami now. But that doesn't mean I can't come and watch your soccer games, or try your cooking," he quickly added, because that was the important part. He wanted to be part of their lives. He wanted them to know that no matter what he would always be their older brother. Would always put them above everyone. Protect them. Be there for them as best he could.

Karin eyed him, squinting slightly to presumably try and get a better look, "Can you play soccer?"

"I'm not very good," he admitted, "but I taught Yachiru to play, and I won't let you just beat me." He remembered trying that once, long ago. Letting Karin score a goal because he could see the frustration of not making one getting to her. She'd ranted for hours at him and then refused to play again until he promised not to go easy.

"Whose Yachiru?"

"A friend," he said with a shrug, "you'd get along with her, I think. She loves playing soccer and trying new foods. And causing trouble."

"Can we meet her?"

He glanced to Goat-face and then to his mom. They couldn't really meet Yachiru. Not unless Ichigo told her about these trips and convinced her to keep it a secret. And even then, he wasn't sure if he was ready to give up his time with his sisters so easily.

"Maybe one day," he finally said.

"What's it like being a ghost?" Yuzu, ever curious, asked then.

"Not much different, really," he said.

"Do you have to do homework?"

Ichigo thought of the piles upon piles of books and worksheets Aizen buried him under. "More than I ever did alive," he said with a scowl. It wasn't entirely bad, though. The second Aizen realized he could devour history and literature books within hours, he'd started to focus more on them than other subjects. It was… almost nice, truth be told.

"No way!" Karin denied.

"Yes way, Aizen gave me a stack of homework taller than me the other day," Ichigo told them solemnly, enjoying the look of disgusted horror that crossed both his sisters' faces.

Karin slid off of Goat-face's stomach, dragging Yuzu with her when her sister refused to let go of her shirt. With hands on her hips and a determined furrow in her brows she looked up at him and declared, "Then we need to have fun before you go back."

It was adorable. With her puffed out cheeks still weighted with baby-fat and the way her hair fell out of its clip and slightly into her eyes. Ichigo had almost forgotten how cute the twins were at this age. Most of his memories from this time – that hadn't been clouded by his mother's death – were of taking care of them or making sure they stayed safe and out of trouble. Something that they loved to get into. Or, well, Karin had at least. And at this age, whatever Karin did then Yuzu wasn't far behind.

This was going to be the best night; and he was right.

Yuzu had him cooking and even managed to rope Karin into it as well. They finished baking the cake that mom and him had left earlier, and as it baked, Karin got busy directing him to push all the furniture around because they 'had to play soccer' and since Ichigo couldn't really go outside for that, then they'd make do.

Ichigo made a mental note to convince Hat-an-clogs to include a soccer field somewhere in his training grounds.

By the time the sun was setting, Yuzu and Karin were asleep on their feet. Eyes half-lidded and yawning more and more often. "I think," his mom said, "it's time for you two to go to bed. Say goodnight to your brother, and let's head upstairs."

"But-."

"Karin," his mom warned in a soft voice.

"Night, Ichigo."

"Goodnight, Big Brother," Yuzu said at almost the same time.

Mush. His heart was absolute mush on the floor right now.

"Goodnight," he said, watching them start the trudge of the stairs, his mom following after.

"Ichigo," his dad said in the most serious voice he'd heard that night. Right. His mom said this conversation was probably going to happen.

"I know what you're going to say," Ichigo jumped in before his dad could continue. "There's no need."

"I disagree." His dad shook his head. "Your mother and I talked after last time. And we both agreed that you and I should talk. Well, more like I should apologize, but I don't think that's what you want to hear."

"You'd be right," he said, chin tipped up. "What Aizen said… not all of it was right. It was roughhousing. I gave as good as I got, and the rest…"

"The rest," his dad picked up, looking from Ichigo down to his hands where they rested, palms up, on his knees, "I can see myself doing when confronted with your mom's death. Shutting down. I've never dealt with grief well, and to lose your mom… When you-," his dad waved a hand to encompass all of Ichigo, "died, or turned into a Shinigami, whatever you want to call it. Afterwards, your mom came home and buried herself in spending time with the twins. I locked myself in the clinic."

"Everyone deals with grief differently," he said, voice rough.

The laugh his dad let out was hollow and short, "I'm aware, son. But when you're a parent, your children should always come first. I didn't do that for you back then- or in the future. And while I can understand why, that doesn't mean I don't want to punch my future self in the face."

That honestly hadn't been what Ichigo was expecting. When his mom said Goat-face was going to apologize. That they'd talked, he'd expected a short thing and then to fall back into their banter and jokes. Not this.

He found it hard to find something to say. To find something to stop the lost look Goat-face was sporting.

So he said, "You loved us."

"And yet you flinch when I move to fast at times," Goat-face pointed out gravely. "Don't think I haven't noticed."

"The flinching came from the war and training." He wasn't the only one Ichigo reacted like that to. Even Rukia earned some occasionally, if he was too tired or too caught up in his thoughts about things that happened back then.

"Ah, the war I sent you to fight."

"The war I chose to fight."

"But were you given much of one?"

Silence.

"As I thought. You may have forgiven me, but that forgiveness should be for yourself and not to

try and assuage my guilt. The guilt I rightfully feel."

"You didn't do anything. And I have forgiven future you, doesn't that make a difference?"

"For yourself, and for allowing yourself to heal and move on… yes. But as for stopping me from regretting and making sure it never happened in this lifetime? No." His dad reached out a ruffled his hair, "You've grown up well, despite everything. I'm proud of you, Ichigo. Above all else, I want you to know that. And that I love you."

He huffed, ducking out from under Goat-face's hand, "What's with the sudden sap?"

"Am I not allowed to dote on my one and only son?" his dad proclaimed, dramatic and with crocodile tears streaming in rivers down his face. "Masaki! Our son is bullying me!" Then Ichigo found himself ducking around what would have undoubtably been a bone-crushing hug.

"Ichigo, be nice to your father, he's sensitive!" his mom called back.

"Yes, Ichigo, listen to your mother!" his dad joined in and Ichigo felt his eye beginning to twitch. When Goat-face tried hugging him again, still dramatic and still with far too many tears – but with mischievousness and slow enough Ichigo could kick him square in the jaw if he so please – he took hold of one arm and threw his dad to the ground. Goat-face blinked up at him for a surprised moment before bursting out in laughter that he couldn't quite cover up behind any exaggerated theatrics, "What happened to kindness?"

"This is me being kind to you, Goat-face!"

"Boys," his mom said, voice dripping with exasperation. "It's time."

Ah, that drained the humor in a blink.

"I'll come visit whenever I can," he told them, straightening up. "And-."

A knock on the door stole the rest of his words. His parents looked equally confused as to who it could be. If they weren't expecting visitors…

Ichigo let his eyes fall shut and concentrated. Even after all this time he wasn't the best at sensing reiatsu and if it was Shinigami on the other side of that door, then they were doing a damn good job of hiding their signature.

Which of course meant it was, "Aizen." He hissed the name, lowly. "Aizen is here. He must have found out I was gone."

"I'll answer it," his dad declared, somehow making his whisper seem exceedingly loud, "you head out the back."

Ichigo nodded, already turning towards the backdoor.

And then there was a soft click behind him and the sound of his mom's voice, "Good evening. Captain Aizen, wasn't it? How can I help you?"

"I've come to bring Ichigo back to Soul Society," Aizen said evenly, voice pleasant and warm and so very, very fake.

His dad sent him a look, and then barreled into view of the door, "I'm afraid you're mistaken, then. Ichigo never came by!"

Not wasting the opportunity, Ichigo forwent the door and instead vaulted out and window and into the fastest flash-step he could manage while also trying to pull his reiatsu in towards himself.

Despite all his hours and hours of training, he still managed to run face-first into Aizen not even three blocks from his house.

He slipped his shoes off and stood with his arms crossed and shoulders hunched up the second they reached his office; staring at Aizen with a scowl and ready for whatever lecture he was about to give.

"Take a seat, Ichigo," Aizen said, ruffling his hair lightly as he passed by to take his own seat.

Ichigo's arms fell to dangle at his sides, "You're not mad?"

"How can I be mad at something I was expecting," Aizen sighed.

"You knew."

"Of course I knew," he gave Ichigo an unimpressed look at that. "Did you really think I wouldn't?"

Ichigo grumbled as he settled into his seat, more than tempted to sit in his usual spot, but not willing to have this particular conversation without being about to see Aizen's face.

"What was it this time?"

"Huh?"

"The reason you snuck out to see them."

"Do I need a reason?" Ichigo asked with a frown. Why would he need something like that to want to see his family? "They're my family."

"They're important to you," Aizen said slowly.

"Of course they're important!"

"And you won't stop these little trips," Aizen said with a nod. He pulled out a small book and laid it on the desk, flipping through. "We'll have to find a time in your schedule, maybe once every two or three months considering our trips to Hueco Mundo, to make a trip to see them. It can't be for very long, but I suspect you'd rather that then not at all."

Ichigo could only stare. Was Aizen serious right now? Was he hearing this right? There was no way. Surely. Aizen wouldn't suddenly agree to let him see his family regularly let alone plan the trips himself and help Ichigo sneak out. There was no advantage to him. At least nothing that Ichigo could see. Did that mean he-

No.

No, Ichigo couldn't think like that. It was too dangerous.

But then, he couldn't figure out any other explanation.

Did Aizen actually care?

He'd need more evidence, he decided. And soon, he'd have the perfect test for lack of a better word.

"Ichigo," Aizen interrupted his thoughts, "you do want to see them, don't you?"

He nodded.

"Then help me reorganize your schedule," Aizen said. "We can't move your Hueco Mundo trips, or reiatsu transfer sessions with Unohana…"

"You comin' in, King?" Shiro asked later that night.

"Yeah."

They needed to talk, after all.

Even if there was no real choice.

He'd travelled through time to get his spirits back; and now if keeping them meant taking on the hogyoku then it merely became a matter of how to keep it all under wraps.

There was almost a relief to it. To giving into this destruction. He'd thought he'd found it when letting himself follow his dreams of becoming a medic. Thought he'd found it when he admitted his care for Aizen, and even before that, back when he learned control of his powers – when he no longer had to fear Shiro. But this… this was almost freeing. It was odd. He knew well enough that he liked the stability in control and deciding for himself. And yet, here he was without a choice at all, finding it freeing. Whatever happened now, would come regardless and without a way to fight it. No sword. No kido. No resolve. Nothing. Whether this would spell victory or downfall, only time would tell.

Time that was speeding by all too soon.

Twelve

Chapter Notes

I like this chapter so much because ima lesbian and Unohana is in it.

That is all. (not really, but… well, you'll see…)

Also note this chapter is thanks to inspiration from simfriek

Also also this is officially my first fic to break 100k words, and this is the chapter to do it and wow it feels kinda surreal ngl

"I'm sending you to Unohana tomorrow," Aizen told him after breakfast while he was busy looking over the piles and piles of paperwork that had started to creep off his desk like some sentient fungus intent of covering every inch of the office if given half a chance. "Hinamori and I need peace and quiet to sort this."

"Why?" It wasn't that he didn't like spending time with Unohana, more such that he'd rather take this free pass to train.

"Why what?"

"Why do I have to go to Unohana's?"

"Because I can't trust you to not do something stupid on your own," Aizen told him flatly and without even looking up.

"Hey!" he protested, bristling. "I don't run around planning for things to go wrong!" Which wasn't exactly true but Ichigo wasn't above bending this in his favor. "I can take care of myself," he grumbled. "And it's not like I'll run off to see my family now that you're taking me anyway."

Aizen didn't interrupt at all during his rant; he was one to wait and let you dig your own grave before pushing you in and burying you with your own logic.

"Must I remind you of Muramasa?"

"That was a one-time thing and you know it," he said, pushing himself to his feet with a copy of Shakespeare's King Lear in hand and definitely not stomping as he made himself comfortable in his usual spot leaning against Aizen's back. The reiatsu was as comforting as always, but even as Ichigo tried to draw it closer to himself, he found the tight hold Aizen had on it impervious. Aizen liked acting the unassuming and kind captain, and letting people think he had less reiatsu than he did was obviously part of that, on the other hand, he didn't understand why he didn't stretch it out even a bit. Surely that wouldn't give up his game.

"Why do you always keep your reiatsu contained like that?" Ichigo asked before he could think to stop.

"It's impolite to throw your reiatsu around carelessly," Aizen said distractedly, clearly paying more attention to his paperwork than whatever Ichigo was doing or saying. "Which is why you practiced

control before anything else."

"Yeah, but you don't let it out at all," he said, poking at Aizen's reiatsu with his own, picturing pulling at wispy strands of it and tugging only for Aizen's to slip from his grasp like water. "Doesn't it feel-," he searched for the right word. Aizen had just as crazy reserves as he did. Keeping it bottled up in such a way would make Ichigo feel like he was exploding. "-oppressive?"

"Is it like that for you?"

"It's like holding my breath while running a marathon," Ichigo said simply, shifting so that he could sprawl out across the floor instead. "What is all this anyway?" Reaching out he pulled one of the papers towards him. It was filled with numbers and dates.

"The budgeting I've been putting off to deal with your messes." He slipped the paper from Ichigo's hand and back into place on one of the piles.

"I haven't done anything in months," Ichigo pointed out, scowling.

"You snuck out three weeks ago."

"No one noticed."

Aizen stamped a paper, moved it to a different pile and then grabbed a scroll from the side of his desk to make some note or other in.

"No one else noticed," he corrected. He poked once again at Aizen's reiatsu, grinning triumphantly as it started to unfurl, increasing the pressure in the room. There was something warm about it. Warm and bubbly. A hint of cooler sharpness was there too; strong but flexible.

"Satisfied?"

Ichigo absently hummed, as he concentrated on chasing the odd sensations. It honestly hadn't taken him long to realize that the ability to sense emotions through locking blades with his opponent extended to reiatsu as well. Except it was also completely different. Any clarity that his spirits helped to filter in was lost and he found himself instead picking through a puzzle with missing and mix-up pieces. A puzzle that was different for everyone at that.

"Does this mean we're not going to Las Noches this month?" he asked as he gave up trying to guess what Aizen was feeling. This was their usual time to head to the fortress, after all.

"We're only moving it back by a day," Aizen told him.

"Can I spar with Grimmjow this time?" He'd asked it the last few times and either gotten a look or told to focus on his studies.

This time it earned him a sigh, "You can't even properly lift you shikai."

"I could fight him without it."

Silence.

"Or just use Ossan's blade." Ichigo winced as that earned him a very loud, headache-inducing, protest from Shiro. "Or not," he grumbled. "Shiro will kill me."

"Damn right I will!" Shiro shouted. "Where do you get off trying to keep me out of a fight?!"

Aizen let out a soft snort, and from the angle he was at Ichigo caught the edges of a smile. It was still weird seeing Aizen so… soft. Domestic. Seeing him without his Hueco Mundo whites or his captain haori. Seeing him smile and laugh. And seeing him do it all without his usual mask. Eyes narrowing Ichigo absently wondered if Aizen had a mask at all. It wasn't even that he was entirely different around Ichigo and the other captains. He still laughed the same, smiled the same. Hell, he even had the same ideas to share, just in more carefully worded, subtle, and manipulative ways when it came to the other Gotei members. The harshness was gone, though. The cruelty and the threatening smiles. The unbothered assurance in his own power.

He was… a little more carefree when it was only the two of them.

It wasn't a mask. Not really. Just… Aizen lying about himself through omission. Or, the way Ichigo acted differently around his friends than teachers or his dad. Different people required different parts of him to be at the forefront.

Ichigo was still, one-hundred percent, calling it a mask though. At least in his own head.

Letting his gaze fall back towards the papers, he instead found himself staring at Aizen's sealed and sheathed blade. Kyoka Suigetsu. What a pretentious name. It suited Aizen perfectly.

Which reminded him.

"Have you made friends with you spirit yet?"

"Hm?"

"You said you'd try and befriend them," Ichigo pointed out. It hadn't even been that long ago; a year as it was. Back when he'd accepted Muramasa into his soul, and he'd had to wait for months before the spirit woke up. The excited relief of that moment coursed through him like phantom pain. The conversation he and Aizen had had afterwards wasn't nearly as clear but he remembered demanding Aizen stop treating his sword as a mere tool.

"We already talked about this," Aizen said absently, grabbing another handful of papers at the same time. "Your relationship with your swords is very unique."

"It shouldn't be," Ichigo protested, not taking his eyes off of Kyoka Suigetsu. Aizen had given the blade up without a thought during the war. The memory made something in him ache. If it came down to it… perhaps this time with the help of Muramasa he could save- Ichigo pushed the thought away. He wasn't going to- he couldn't- He sat up and tugged on Aizen's sleeve. Lightly, because if he caused any of the paperwork to need redoing then Kyoka Suigetsu's fate would be the least of his worries. "They're not just tools. They have their own dreams and desires and shouldn't be locked away when we're not fighting alongside them."

Aizen had put his brush down and turned to look at him more fully with a bemused if slightly put- upon expression.

"What?"

"Your maturity astounds me at times. If only you regularly acted in such a manner…"

"Hey!" he said on a scowl, narrowing his eyes at Aizen's amused smile. "Do you even know your zanpakuto's dream?"

"It is the same as mine," Aizen said. At Ichigo's expectant look, he continued, "The betterment of Soul Society."

Ichigo's eyes narrowed. What a cop-out. The bastard wasn't even really lying about that being his own dream. He definitely thought that his take-over would make Soul Society better. But whether or not it was Kyoka Suigetsu's dream… "I don't believe you."

"Oh?"

"My blades don't have the same dream as me," Ichigo said.

"No everyone has such a crowded or… dysfunctional soul." He said dysfunctional the way a mad scientist would say new specimen. With the same underlying tone he'd used when he'd called Ichigo's reiatsu marvelous in a non-existent future.

"I'm not dysfunctional," he snapped, settling on feeling offended. "And don't change the subject," he continued, not even sure why he was so focused on this. "You're a captain, you can manifest your spirit."

"I hardly think this warrants calling Kyoka Suigetsu out of my inner world."

"You're just saying that because I'm right."

"Ichigo."

Ichigo stood up; he wasn't having any of this shit. Losing half your soul, not being close to it, giving it up… he wasn't about to accept that. Not even for an enemy. He'd already started Rukia on meditating after the incident a year ago. If he could convince the midget to do it, then convincing Aizen was well within possibility. "We're going to meditate and you're going to ask your zanpakuto what they want."

"Ichigo, I have work to do."

"You said you and Hinamori would do it tomorrow."

"That doesn't mean I can simply leave it until then," Aizen sighed. "If you're so restless, then you can take these to Hinamori and ask if she has anything to deliver to the other captains."

And that was that. Ichigo could recognize a lost argument when he saw one. That didn't mean he would give up, however. He'd have Aizen playing nice with his spirit one way or another.

The usual expedition through mountains and over canyons with Unohana went only so far as the fourth's back garden this time. And by back garden, Ichigo meant a massive greenhouse. It was sprawling and filled to the brim with herbs, flowers, and even trees. It was sectioned off, as well, depending on the temperature needed by each species and run a complicated mixture of hado and seals. Walking inside the first section was like jumping into a pool. Within seconds he was drenched from the humidity; sticky and practically drinking the air.

Ichigo was entranced.

He'd known the fourth had this – had seen it enough in his trips here – it was just that he'd never had the chance to actually go inside.

It was for the best that he got the chance now. It would give him time to think and deal with…

well, everything. Turned out the acceptance he'd settled into was just shock. Because getting the death-ball grafted into him? Fuck that.

Especially when the paranoid, hurt, part of him that still replayed the months of loneliness after he lost his zanpakuto whispered that this was just another plan on Urahara's part to expose Aizen. There was no way, after all, that Aizen would give up the chance of having the hogyoku. Not when it was so close at hand.

He knew that wasn't it. Knew the intruding whispers were wrong.

That didn't mean, however, he didn't need time to sort out his thoughts.

Unohana was giving him the chance to do that while also learning more about medicine and he wasn't about to waste that. Spending the entire day there consequently meant he also had time to ask Unohana about her own zanpakuto.

Which he did, an hour in, with a lot less tact than he wanted, "Do you consider your zanpakuto just a tool?"

Unohana had stopped in the middle of putting trimmings into her collection basket to look at him. "Where did you get such an idea?"

"Aizen said the academy teaches that they're just weapons."

"I see," Unohana said. "I never attended the Soutaichou's academy. As for my thoughts on Minazuki, they are my partner and have helped me in countless ways. Inside and outside battle. What of your zanpakuto, Ichigo?"

Ichigo's hand fell to the hilt of his sword, "They're my friends."

Unohana smiled, "Good. When you get to the academy, don't let them change your mind."

"Never." He picked the basket up and trotted after her as she moved to another section, "I asked Aizen what his zanpakuto's dream was and he said 'to make Soul Society better'." Ichigo snorted after he finished his mocking recount. "Like I'm going to believe that."

"Aizen-taichou attended the academy some hundred years ago or so," Unohana said. "Changing a mind of something so long-believed is a trial. One I'm sure you'll manage." She glanced down at him with bright eyes, "You've changed him quite a lot already."

"What do you mean?"

"Aizen-taichou is a well-respected captain, but he is renowned for his kindness as well as his gentle, and soft-spoken responses no matter how thoughtful or clever," she explained. "Some months after your arrival he became… less patient. Less tolerant of foolishness or ignorance."

Ichigo frowned; he hadn't noticed a difference at all. Sure, Aizen didn't really bother with his kind- captain persona much around him anymore and he'd seen him slip a good handful of times or so in front of other, but nothing that he'd think would be noticed by others.

"It's not a bad thing," Unohana went on when she looked back down at him from the tree she'd started shaving bark from. "Merely an observation."

He wondered if Aizen knew.

Probably.

"Unohana," he said then, tentative and slow, "what would you do if to do the right thing you had to do something you didn't want to and hurt someone you care for?"

"The right thing by whose standards, hm?"

"By most people."

"I have made the mistake of doing something similar before," she told him. "Do you remember why I never told anyone of your unique powers?"

"Because you felt bad for not protecting the vizard?"

Her eyes sharpened but for only a moment, "Yes. Back then I had done what most would think was right. But in the end, I only hurt those I consider friends and prevented the status quo from changing so that it may accept them despite their new differences." She turned back to the tree, "In situations like that, it's no longer what is right, but what you can live with."

"What if the person you're protecting did something bad?"

"Ichigo," Unohana said with such an odd cadence to her voice that Ichigo was hard-pressed to place the emption behind it, "do you care for me as your teacher?"

"Of course," he said once he'd blinked away his initial shock at the question.

She nodded, placing down the tool she was using to shave off bark and facing him fully instead, "I was once considered the worst criminal in all of Soul Society. I will save you the details of my actions, but I was only stopped when the Soutaichou himself beat me and demanded I join the Gotei." She stayed silent for a moment, "Do you hate me for this?"

"No!" came his automatic response.

"Then you have your answer."

They stood quietly in the humid air of the greenhouse. Ichigo hadn't explained everything to her. Couldn't. But maybe the advice would help give him some peace about the inevitability of everything.

"Does that mean Yama-ji wasn't kidding when he said you fought Kenpachi?"

"He wasn't," she said with a nod, gesturing him to follow her. "And the consequences of that battle are a burden I bear. It is the reason I turned to the fourth."

"Really?"

"Mhm," she hummed, "I was the captain of the eleventh before that."

Ichigo froze, staring at her with wide eyes. That explained so much. But left him with far too many questions as well. She hadn't fought Aizen during the future battle, but if she was truly as strong as Kenpachi then she'd have evened the playing field at least a little more. So why didn't she? Was this all part of that?

"I don't get it," he admitted.

"You hold a love of battle, yourself, do you not?" she asked, and at his nod she continued. "Given

half a chance I'm sure you would thrive in the eleventh." The scowl that statement earned had her chuckling, "What's with the face, hm?"

"There's no way I'm joining the eleventh."

"Yes, well," she said, her lips still twitching into a smile, "my point is that I was once like that. I became a healer because I found a reason to give up using my sword for myself, as is it only right that the next generation rise to surpass the previous," she said. She looked at him then, a curious look in her eyes that Ichigo couldn't quiet place. Somewhere between understanding and intrigue, "You've already done that. In fact, you've given up far more than your sword for others." She reached out and placed a hand on his head, "Just as it was my time to turn my blade into a tool to raise up the next Kenpachi, so too is it time you learned to live for yourself." Pulling her hand back, she offered an encouraging smile. "And, Ichigo, you're part of the fourth now," Unohana said, "even if you graduate the academy and enter another division, I will always consider you mine. And in the fourth, we don't heal alone. If you ever want to talk, I am here to listen."

"Thanks," he said a little gruffly, because how else could he respond?

"But perhaps, given your age, talking is the last thing you want to do," she said it teasingly. "I recommend poems. They always help me clear my mind when I'm overwhelmed and meditation doesn't help."

"Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak knits up the o-er wrought heart and bids it break," Ichigo quoted, soft and letting the words whisper the smallest hint of weight.

Unohana hummed, "An apt thought."

"Shakespeare," Ichigo said.

"Hm?"

"Shakespeare, he's the one that said it- wrote it," Ichigo explained.

"Smart man."

"Or just sad."

"Careful," Unohana said, kneeling down and placing her own basket beside her, "wisdom in grief is a tricky thing. It can deceive just as much as guide. Not all that there is to learn can be learned from the dark."

"Then I'll light a candle."

Unohana tipped her head in acquiesce, "How do you intend to do that?"

By imprisoning Aizen.

By keeping everyone he loved safe.

He reached out and plucked another herb, rolling the stem between his fingers and let the delicate leaves catch in the sunlight. "I guess this is a start," he said, looking up to meet her gaze. "And- and I'll give the poems a try."

Her smile is a softly triumphant thing. "As good a start as any," she agreed. "It's not as popular anymore," she went on, "but learning softer arts can help keep your mind calm and even improve

reiatsu control. Instruments, poetry, flower arranging, all of these can help."

"I'm no good at music," he said with a grimace, "but I like to read. That should count."

She laughed lightly, "I'm sure it does, but poetry will help you work through your emotions."

"I already agreed to try it," he grumbled.

"And I look forward to it," she said. "Only if you're up to sharing them, of course."

Ichigo wasn't entirely sure about that. Wasn't even sure he'd write more than one or two poems, because having a book like that lying around wasn't the best option. Not when it would give Aizen easy access to his thoughts. But that was something to worry about later; when- no, if he ended up writing anything particularly sensitive.

"For the record," he said as they started walking towards the exit, "I don't plan on joining another division."

"Is that so?" she hummed happily. "Have you told Aizen yet?"

"Not yet," he said honestly. "I don't want to give him the chance to try and change my mind."

"You think he won't approve?"

"He wants me to join the fifth." Better to keep an eye on his little experiment that way.

"I have no doubt, but be that as it may," Unohana said, "I think you underestimate the amount of pride he feels for you and how much your own happiness means to him."

Ichigo's chest felt too small on his next breath but he didn't let it show. "I'll tell him soon."

"Of course," she easily agreed. "Now, let's start mixing these into pastes, shall we?"

That night, just after dinner which he had with Isane and Unohana, Aizen came and picked him up. That, obviously, meant that they spent another hour sitting around drinking tea and talking, but Ichigo hardly minded. Surrounded by not one, but two captains and a lieutenant meant the pressure in the room was like wearing a sweater on a chilly day.

Once the hour turned to two and then three Aizen finally stood to head home. "Thank you for looking after him," he said to her for the second time that night.

"It was my pleasure," Unohana replied. "We're happy to have him here. Before you go, though… Ichigo, here." She pushed a notebook into his hands, "For your poems."

"Thank you," he said automatically, looking down at the book in surprise.

Aizen said nothing at the exchange, merely waited for Ichigo to walk over to where he waited by the door before saying on final goodbye. The night was as warm as the day; the soft buzz of insects and whisper of the breeze through trees made the world feel almost timeless. It was too late for fireflies to be out, but moths and flocked in droves to the lanterns still lit along the paths. Ichigo watched them with little interest. Instead, his gaze was drawn up towards the stars.

"Are the stars the same here as in the living world?" he asked, breaking the faint unbounded hollowness of the night.

"They aren't," Aizen answered.

"Why?"

"When the three realms were created, Hueco Mundo and Soul Society were made as reflections of the living world. Only, instead of a mirror, it became like a painting. The stars are in the same places they were all those years ago."

"So they're not ghosts," he murmured to himself, but Aizen caught it all the same and it earned him a laugh.

"No," Aizen said thick with humor, "they're not."

"Wait," Ichigo said, suddenly curious, "does that mean there's some kind of ceiling projecting their images? Or is it more like an illusion and it doesn't matter how close you get?"

"I don't believe anyone has ever bothered to find out," Aizen said thoughtfully, his gaze finally looking up to the sky as well.

"Why not?"

"Most souls, you'll find, do not question things. No matter how absurd, unseemly, or outright foolish." Aizen's attention fell back on him, "Especially when that thing has been the norm for so long."

"Well that's stupid," Ichigo huffed, knowing that while Aizen was talking about something to do with his plans to take over, he had a disturbingly accurate point.

"It is, isn't it," Aizen agreed softly. "But that's not what you want to talk about is it?"

Ichigo looked away, taking in the way the lanterns' lights shown through the wings of the moths. "After I graduate from the academy… I want to join the fourth."

Aizen remained silent until Ichigo turned to look at him. What he found wasn't the tight, fake kindness he expected, but amused warmth. "You'll have to work hard to learn kaido," Aizen told him. "It requires a lot of control."

He wasn't mad. Wasn't frustrated or annoyed. But why- "You knew."

"I should hope so," Aizen said with mirth. "How many books have I bought you on medicine? How many times have you asked me about kaido and when your next lesson with Unohana would be? Or, what about-."

"Okay, okay, I get it," Ichigo interrupted, ducking away from the hand reaching out to pat his head. "I just- I know you wanted me to join the fifth."

"You thought I'd be disappointed?" Aizen shook his head, "Ichigo, you pursuing your passion would hardly disappoint me. Although I expect you to visit even if you decide to move into the fourth's barracks. Understood?"

Ichigo nodded.

"Good. Now, let's get you to bed before it gets any later," Aizen said. "We'll still be joining

Unohana tomorrow, after all."