Chapter One: Shadow Archetype

It was a series of blocks of concrete piled with mortar into what humans called a building. Techniques varied.

Recent human construction has changed. Decades ago, buildings had been constructed to last as long as possible. But with the recent innovation in building techniques, that had largely been altered.

Human buildings in this day and age were made to use as little material as possible. All while still retaining stability. This allowed for swifter construction at the cost of longevity. However, a lack of longevity was to the benefit of construction companies. A building that stood the test of time did not require regular maintenance. The one who made the building would only be paid once. Whereas, if one were to erect an effective building designed to decay rapidly, one could be paid many times.

It was a creative exploitation of the principle of entropy if one desired money.

However, Ulquiorra did not care what happened to these people.

Unfortunately, Lord Aizen had ordered him to observe events in Karakura Town. Safeguarding several individuals of some import was important to Lord Aizen. And Ulquiorra was created to serve a master; without one, he had no purpose.

Rukia Kuchiki was above. She bore a white sword which looked very expensive, though still serviceable.

She was standing on top of a telephone pole, clad in black garb with a katana at her side. Leaping downwards, she descended toward the world of the living below. Ulquiorra wondered why she felt the need to make such an entrance. No one could observe her except a hollow such as himself.

And when he had entered the world of the living, he had done so quietly. He had opened a gargantua and walked into an isolated park. From there, he had donned the gigai, which had been prepared for him and walked in. So far, his progress had been completely unnoticed.

"We stand in awe of that which cannot be explained," said Rukia Kuchiki, landing on a rooftop. "And we respect with every fiber that we do not comprehend."

Logical.

Ulquiorra failed to see how that had any relevance to her present situation.

No matter.

Ulquiorra had orders.

Now, perhaps he could turn his attention to his actual target. Mentally reaching out, Ulquiorra seized control of the hollows he had prepared. Szayel had bred several new types who could injure far stronger entities. It would be enough to injure a lieutenant if it took them off guard.

Drawing the creature into the world from the darkness, Ulquiorra waited.

Let the creature hunt for a time. Let Rukia Kuchiki hunt for a time. Ulquiorra wanted her to be confident in her skills. Confidence bred distraction. And it was when they were distracted that they were most vulnerable. As many hollows had found out.

No matter.

Ulquiorra turned from Rukia Kuchiki and set to work on research at once. He went first to the largest buildings and observed events in action. Human beings seemed to spend a lot of time processing sheets of mutilated trees. Every action required a form of some kind for authorization. Every form required a copy of a copy of a copy.

Violence in public seemed to be actively frowned on. Ulquiorra saw numerous situations where humans regarded one another with active hostility. However, it was very rare that they actively killed one another. They reacted to situations where a hollow would have gone berserk with silence.

Rukia Kuchiki killed several hollows during this time. Ulquiorra summoned several more, sending them after aware humans one at a time. Each time, Rukia would follow and slay them one by one. And each time, Ulquiorra would draw out more.

Now and then, he paused, halting long enough to disguise the drip-fed nature of the attack.

Szayel's experiment might be workable. However, Rukia Kuchiki would likely cut it to pieces before it could strike. So it would be better to exhaust her first. Five targets were chosen: a school and an apartment complex. A water treatment plant, an officer, and a hospital. No human casualties resulted because of Kuchiki's swift response. All the hollows were slain. However, their efforts were not in vain. Because when she had to flash step across town to stop yet another sacrifice, that took effort. The effort, which Ulquiorra was not giving her time to recover from.

Still, despite her small size, her endurance was quite formidable. She clearly knew how to pace herself and was not using any unnecessary force. She was also quite careful to strike from behind and use the element of surprise. Often, she would descend from on high and strike them down.

So it went on.

Eventually, Ulquiorra decided that he had done enough and halted the attack.

That was around the time dawn was beginning to rise. From here, he decided to confirm the location of his principal target. One to whom Rukia's presence was a mere prologue.

It took some time to find them. Their spiritual power had not yet awakened. During this time, Ulquiorra had to summon several more sets of hollows to keep Rukia occupied. The delay was frustrating, all the more so because he was seeking the lynchpin of Lord Aizen's plans.

Ichigo Kurosaki was a kind of protagonist in a grand narrative that was being set up. One which served an important plan in Aizen's overall designs. And for that narrative to succeed, a handler was necessary.

The first thing that Ulquiorra thought when he saw Ichigo was that he looked like Grimmjow. He had a very similar air to him. He had a similar perpetual scowl and entitled aura. The principal difference was a different hair color. Grimmjow had blue hair, Ichigo had orange hair.

This boded poorly.

Ulquiorra had long ago dismissed Grimmjow as an utterly generic psychopathic brute. He was essentially a poor man's copy of Nnoitora with even less to analyze about him. Some of the female Arrancars were fixated on him, largely because he wore an open shirt. And they were idiots.

If Ichigo Kurosaki was nothing but a poor man's copy of Grimmjow, that boded poorly.

Still, it was too early to judge by superficial appearances. One could not-

A group of humans on scateboards knocked over a vase by accident. Ichigo Kurosaki responded by attacking one of them. At this point, the other humans took offense at the attack and demanded an explanation. Ichigo Kurosaki responded by attacking them and beating their faces onto the pavement.

Thereby dealing them irreparable bodily harm and likely bankrupting them with medical bills.

Ichigo Kurosaki then turned to a young ghost girl. All while Ulquiorra watched from a nearby building.

"Thank you for coming to my defense," said the ghost girl. "I think now I'll finally be able to rest peacefully."

"Don't mention it," said Ichigo. "I'll bring you some new flowers later.

"You deserve to rest in peace."

This was supposed to be the protagonist? How exactly had murdering those people influenced Ichigo Kurosaki's goals? What was his goal? To help other people? Had it helped the ghost girl to have her vase put back up? He could have backed up the vase without maiming three of his own kind. Doing so would have helped the ghost girl and not harmed three members of his species.

If indeed Ichigo Kurosaki's goal was to help his fellow man, he had failed miserably. The results of his actions spoke for themselves. Three people he did not know had been seriously injured on a permenant basis. One person he did not know had been momentarily aided.

Ulquiorra considered his next course of action. What were his priorities in this situation?

'I don't care what happens to these people,' reflected Ulquiorra.

So he did nothing and observed.

At this point, a boy carrying a sewing basket came by. Finding three seriously injured people lying in the street, he drew out a phone. With it, he immediately called an ambulance. Once done, he kneeled by the three humans. He immediately began administering first aid. He did so using his resources in a medical kit he kept on hand.

He then stayed by those injured men until an ambulance arrived. By the time he got back to his empty apartment, where he lived alone, he was tired and bitter.

The last Quincy, Uryu Ishida, cooked dinner for himself while tired. And when he had finished, he put his glasses on the window sill and slept alone.

Meanwhile, Ichigo Kurosaki went back to his home. There, he threw his Father on the floor and refused to eat the dinner his younger siblings had cooked for him.

Ulquiorra contemplated which one of these men would better qualify as a hero. That was why he was here, to provide oversight, was it not? How did he rank from a human perspective?

It was, at this point, irrelevant.

Nothing Ulquiorra had seen gave him confidence in the target's usefulness. Ichigo could not serve any purpose, and Grimmjow could not. There was nothing interesting about him. Only his blood was, and there were samples for that.

This heroes' journey was over.

Ichigo Kurosaki was a defective creature, unworthy of life. And Ulquiorra needed only to unleash Szayel's hollow. It was quite convenient that Ichigo Kurosaki lived in a clinic.

Ulquiorra could take blood samples after Ichigo and his entire family were dead.

'Wake up,' said Mercielago. 'Time to die.'

Ulquiorra closed his eyes in frustration.

When Rukia Kuchiki first looked down on the World of the Living, she had to admit she was starstruck.

It was all... small.

Karakura Town was a large city by human standards. It had well over ten thousand residents, many with high spiritual pressures. This in itself only made them more vulnerable to outside threats. But it was amazing to see what these humans had done without spiritual power.

How had they gotten so many lights? It was like a perfect mirror to the sky. You could see the light reflected off the clouds as they passed over a crescent moon. Strange machines moved through the streets with similar lights. They were far faster than any human could run. Of course, no Soul Reaper would be outpaced by them.

But how had they been made?

How had so many structures been erected without spiritual power? Especially given how few the workforce seemed to be. Construction crews among humans were a tiny fraction of how larger they had been even a century ago. She peered through even a few windows and saw signs of a vast bureaucracy. One on a far larger scale than even the Soul Society.

Human police operated with a much higher degree of oversight than Soul Reapers. And observing, she saw the average standard of living was far higher. This must have been an extraordinarily rich city with so many people living so well.

Even beggars and the homeless had places they could go for shelter and food. There were places called food banks where people could get things for free. And the only limit seemed to be the honor system. The shame of admitting you were not self-sufficient. It was the only obligation or punishment.

It was a surreal experience for her.

"We stand in awe of that which cannot be explained," said Rukia Kuchiki, landing on a rooftop. "And we respect with every fiber that we do not comprehend."

And so fell the sword of fate.

She left the last part unspoken.

Rukia had orders.

And a hollow had just arrived. It descended from a blackness in the skies above. They were heading toward a window where a girl was sleeping within. Down it went mask opening to reveal an immense maw. Even as it did, Rukia descended and drew her sword, Sode no Shirayuki, in one swift motion. It glittered like ice, having been a gift from her brother. One of the only gifts he had ever gotten her, but it was certainly beautiful.

Remembering her training, she struck down at the mask from behind. In one swift stroke, she cleaved through it and landed on the street below. Slashing her blade through the air to rid the blood, she turned Sode No Shirayuki to drive it into the sheathe.

Only to hear another howl, this one from far off.

Leaping into action, Rukia surged after them. Running up a wall, she began to run along the rooftops. She could have created a surface in the air, but doing so would expend energy. It is better to conserve her strength when it is needed.

Finding a large, empty building surrounded by walls, Rukia saw a man with a mop. He worked on the floors, periodically wetting his tool in the bucket. She wondered how many man-hours he had to deal with. The Fourth Division had to do such work, but they were trained in using spiritual pressure.

Did this man do all of this himself?

Either way, a hollow in the form of a frog was on the building above, eyeing him. He was completely oblivious to what was happening. As it opened its maw, Rukia descended and struck it down from behind. Making a perfect, three-point landing, Rukia sheathed her sword in the same moment.

'Not bad,' she thought to herself. 'Brother will have to be impressed if I keep this up.'

Then she sensed another hollow, appearing some distance off.

Hurrying at once, she managed to get that one, too, before anyone died, only for another to appear. Then another.

The work never ended.

Rukia found herself hurrying all over the town, observing as she went. Apparently, the humans had created machines to process water, which was undrinkable. Of course, such things existed in the Soul Society, but they were not nearly advanced. Most Soul Reapers made use of kido for that purpose. The Department of Research and Development has made strides in that way.

Even so, Rukia began to become worried.

She'd read that powerful hollows were capable of commanding lesser ones. And every time she killed a hollow, a new one appeared. Rukia began to wonder if she was being worn down. Every time she hurried after one of these hollows, she burned a little bit of her energy.

Of course, controlling lesser hollows would take spiritual power.

But depending on how much they had, Rukia might be worn down.

She decided to pace herself and go as slowly as she dared while saving people. But this was a lot harder than she thought. For one thing, she was always just in time and became increasingly afraid to arrive a moment too late.

'I care what happens to these people,' realized Rukia in surprise.

Growing up in the Rukongai, Rukia was not in the habit of caring easily. But then, she was a Soul Reaper. It was her job to defend souls and help them pass on to the afterlife. Emotional investment had power; one's resolve could grant one power.

Rukia had resolve.

She was not going to let anyone die on her watch. No matter who they were.

And so it went on, one hunt after another, as more hollows descended each time she slew them. But there seemed to be no end.

Several times, she swore she saw someone out of the corner of her eye.

But every time she turned, it was gone. Once, she thought she caught sight of a figure clad in a blue trenchcoat with markings on his face. The sort that were used by gangs in the Rukongai.

Did humans have gangs, too?

Rukia supposed it made sense.

Whatever the case, he did not seem to be doing anything. So she continued.

Eventually, the onslaught stopped.

Rukia Kuchiki worked through the night and, at last, sat on a rooftop as the sun's first light dawned over the city. The memory of dozens of hollows slain by her hand fell away from her mind. She observed the world of the living illumination, and for a moment, she wondered if she existed. This place no longer looked like the night sky in the light of day.

Instead, it now became a place of innumerable colors. People came out in numbers greater than Rukia had ever seen and were very well dressed. They walked on the streets without bearing knives or weapons and were not afraid.

It was surreal and wonderful to watch.

For a time, Rukia rested and reflected on how much easier this would be with her full power. However, she felt more or less content at one-fifth of her full strength. Drawing out some of her rations, she began to eat a meal. Drinking of her waterskin, she watched the morning.

Looking over, she saw a ghost walking along the streets, looking alone.

Rukia was so distracted by it that she had almost forgotten her responsibilities. Brother would never approve of that, so it was good she had caught herself. Finishing quickly, she drew her sword and descended. Drawing around the pommel, she thrust downward.

As she did, the spirit eyes widened before descending and vanishing.

Rukia halted and wondered what the spirit had felt. There was a tradition to say something to spirits to help put them at ease. She'd forgotten that part and thought she ought to have been a bit nicer. After all, these souls were not hollows and were not a threat. There was no reason to do so in haste.

So she continued her search.

It was during this time that she came upon another such soul. It was a girl with brown pigtails. Looking down from one of the great poles connected by wires. Rukia considered how to approach things.

During this time, she saw a group of rough-looking men using what a human had called a skateboard. Grinding along a metal pole in a way that would severely damage it, one of them knocked over a vase of flowers. The girl had been looking at it, and her eyes widened.

She began to cry.

"Nice move," said one of them.

That was...

Bad.

Upsetting, even a child's ghost could endanger everyone in this place. To say nothing of the disrespect shown to the dead girls ghosts. It made Rukia remember that humans had many bad people among them.

She was tempted to rectify the problem herself.

However, as a Soul Reaper, she was forbidden to interfere.

At that moment, an orange-haired human leaped from around a corner and kicked the leader of the thugs in the face. He'd made them fight, though it could hardly be called a fight. The boy smashed the criminals down and dispatched them handily.

It was an immensely satisfying thing for Rukia to watch.

From what she had seen so far, it seemed to her that the people here were far better than those back home.

That was... worrying.

"Thank you for coming to my defense," said the ghost girl. "I think now I'll finally be able to rest peacefully."

"Don't mention it," said the boy. "I'll bring you some new flowers later.

"You deserve to rest in peace."

Rukia wondered what his name was and where he lived. Was he nobility or of common stock? He was familiar with him, but she had been farther off before.

She was about to descend and perform the console.

However, at that moment, someone came by, a boy with sewing needles. Seeing the three thugs injured on the ground, he immediately kneeled by them. Drawing out a phone, he put it to his ears.

"Hello, yes, I am Uryu Ishida," said the boy. "I have three severely injured individuals on this street here. We need an ambulance immediately.

"The street address is..." Rukia missed what he saw.

Street addresses.

So, each street had a clear label and number. In the Soul Society, you only had very general districts. Nothing was nearly as well organized as this in the Rukongai.

Uryu Ishida then drew out a medical kit and performed first aid on them.

Rukia never considered helping such men when she was living in the Rukongai. But this Uryu was using his property to help people he did not know. People he had no obligation to at all.

It was humbling to watch.

Then Rukia sensed another hollow. A particularly powerful one was nearby.

Drawing her sword, she raced off.

Only once she was gone did she realize she'd forgotten to console the girl.

She'd have to go back for her later.

She was so tired. Rukia stumbled as she ran but righted herself.

'Wake up,' said Sode No Shirayuki, speaking for the first time. 'It is time to go to work.'

Rukia's eyes opened.

The game, as they said, was afoot.

Kisuke Urahara observed from up high as Ichigo Kurosaki walked home. Covering up that altercation with the thugs could be an inconvenience. Memories would have to be changed, healing kido employed.

A real hassle, but you had to do these things in this line of work.

Adjusting his hat, Kisuke looked around.

Who was this Yakuza-looking guy who had shown up with pale skin and green teardrop tattoos? He looked to be wearing a gigai meant to cover his presence. Physically, he appeared rather like a teenager with dark hair. But that didn't mean anything in the spiritual world.

And he'd done pretty well at staying unnoticed.

So far, all he'd done was watch and do nothing. His hands had yet to move from his pocket. And Kisuke couldn't get a read on his spiritual energy.

Kisuke wasn't in the business of killing people just because they were an audience. That kind of sociopathic tended to backfire. And showing himself to this guy, making him know Kisuke knew he was there, might backfire, too.

They could do nothing together if he was planning just to do nothing. Kuchiki was heading toward Ichigo's house, and Aizen was making his move.

Kisuke wondered if there was a concession stand around here. You could never get popcorn when you needed it.

Well, either way, the show was starting.

Now.

'Wake up,' thought Kisuke. 'Death is only the beginning.'
Kisuke kept his eyes on target.

Author's Note:

Well, it's been a while since I wrote a Bleach fic.

I feel like I felt a total sense of alienation from the universe and characters. My last experience with Bleach was the ending. I'd dropped the Vandenreich arc midway through in disgust. And reading the first half of the epilogue convinced me this was the right decision. Nobody felt in character at all. Chad was hurting people for a living, which is the exact opposite of his character. None of the characters I wanted to get their comeuppance got it. Unohana and Yachiru had bridges dropped on them for no reason.

It all left me feeling completely dead. So much so that I was glad the anime ended early and didn't want a continuation.

Even so, I will try to get back into this fandom.

However, writing a story helps to have a strong emotional attachment to events. So, how do you write a story when you are emotionally dead?

Write from the perspective of the two most emotionally dead characters imaginable.

This will almost certainly be AU if I continue it.

Please review if you want me to continue this. Feedback is really helpful for staying motivated.