Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or MHA

Rating: T

Warnings: canon-typical language, mentions of past injuries (Ichigo)

Words: 8,390

Notes: Hello all! Eheheh, I'm aliiiive. Sorry about the delay. I've started working full-time at my current job, so my free time has drastically been reduced. Thanks for sticking with me, though!

Chapter: 6) That's a School?!

Sunday, April 28, 2X75

Hizashi was concerned.

It was Sunday morning, and he was sitting at the kitchen table with some western-style pancakes, with his cats around his ankles, and with his husband—alive, breathing, here—grabbing some maple syrup…

And he was still concerned.

He kept thinking back to the previous night. He had been up to his head in worries about Shōta, but then he had gotten the call from Nezu that there was about to be an emergency at the hospital. And hoo boy, it sure was. He and Shōta had rushed to the hospital to Kurosaki's room to see him waking up in a panic and exerting this massive pressure from his Quirk. Hizashi had never felt anything so powerful and crushing before. All Might could exert massive amounts of force that could change the weather, but that was never at someone. Not to that degree, at least. Whatever Kurosaki had done had felt like a substantial weight was crushing Hizashi, trying to force him to the ground.

Other than the effect it had on Shōta, that wasn't what concerned him.

No, what concerned him was Kurosaki. The man was a relative stranger, but Hizashi had a big heart, and his rescuing Shōta and the students and watching over him for several days made him concerned for his well-being. Signs of longtime torture made Hizashi's heart ache for him, both as a Pro Hero concerned for a victim and as a fellow victim himself. He brushed a finger across the bridge of his nose; he hadn't put on his foundation yet this morning.

Talking with Kurosaki had made him both confused and sad. The guy looked completely out of his element, confused with nearly everything they told him. He didn't know what Quirks were, thought he and Shōta were something called 'Fullbringers', thought that their Quirks were Ree-something, was stressed when there was no evidence of his family, and didn't know what UA was.

U-A! Everyone in Japan, and many people abroad, knew that UA was the top Hero school in Japan. As a Japanese citizen, which Kurosaki said he was, even the most backwater people living in the sticks knew about UA. That's what really made Hizashi realize that there was something to Kurosaki that was just off. His Quirk was weird but the lack of knowledge to such a degree just didn't make any sense.

He felt a poke to his forehead, startling him from his thoughts.

Shōta, with his arm still partially extended, tilted his head. "Stop thinking so hard. It's too early for that."

Hizashi sighed and hefted a big pancake onto his plate. He skipped the syrup that Shōta was drowning his pancake in and instead opted for some berries and a little strawberry jam. "It's eleven in the morning."

"For the night we had, it's too early."

Fair.

Shōta looked at him for an embarrassingly short amount of time before he called him out, "You're thinking of Kurosaki." It wasn't a question. Ah, the wonders Shōta knowing him so well for so long: it was hard to bullshit him.

"Caught me," he couldn't help but be sheepish. He wasn't sure why, but he felt he had to apologize. "Sorry, I'm sure the steam coming from my ears must be annoying."

This time Shōta glared at him while wielding his fork like a weapon. "Never say you're annoying, 'Zashi." With a calmer expression, he continued, "There's nothing to apologize for. I've been thinking about him as well."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm." Shōta took a bite of his pancake which was more syrup than pancake. It almost made Hizashi's teeth hurt. His husband had a sweet tooth that rivaled no other, truly. But, it was good to see him recover his appetite. "He has no contacts. Apparently, no family to help him. He's been hurt, that much is clear, and has trauma because of it. He can fight, has been for a long time by how he moves and the response he had."

Very on-brand for Shōta to analyze someone quickly and efficiently.

"So, what do you think of what he said?" Hizashi asked after a sip of juice.

Shōta took a sip of his own coffee. "About how he's from a supposed different Japan that has people with powers that aren't called Quirks?"

Hizashi nodded.

Shōta appeared to mull over it for a bit, using his breakfast to gain him some time. "I think", he was slow to begin, "that it's all very insane. He seems like he's telling the truth. That much I believe. But who doesn't know about Quirks? There aren't any powers other than Quirks." He drummed his fingers next to his plate. Hizashi knew that his brain must be working hard right now by the way he tried hiding his mouth behind his coffee cup. Shōta didn't even realize the habit. "I would have suspected regional differences about the terminology, but where he claims to live is smack in Hosu-shi, not some backwater place. Even if he did live in a small village or something, all Japanese people call our abilities Quirks. Near ninety percent of the rest of the world calls them Quirks, too."

"You have a good point. I know some other countries have colloquial words they use for Quirks—the United States uses 'Power' and 'Quirk' equally—but everyone knows what a Quirk is." Hizashi shook his head and leaned back in his chair to think about it more. "I don't think he's lying, either. He's obviously confused, but the doctors never said anything about head trauma.

Speaking of head injuries, how's yours doing today?"

"It's as good as it's going to be."

Hizashi frowned at him. "Shō."

A sigh. Then, like it was the biggest grievance in the world to admit, he said, "Okay, okay. My head does hurt, and my eye is giving me some trouble, but I'm going to take my medicine."

"Arms."

"Not aching as much as yesterday." For now, was left unsaid.

"C'mon, I have grades to finish, and you need to go rest." Hizashi brought their dishes to the sink to wash later.

"I literally just woke up," Shōta grumbled as they made their way to the couch. Once on the couch, he took his pill bottles from the table to get what he needed. Hizashi watched with fondness as Kioku and Susu snuggled up with him. For cats, they were pretty smart. They somehow knew where to avoid and knew that he was hurt. Susu, however, wasn't much of a problem considering she didn't weigh much.

"The faster you heal up," he said as he plopped on the couch, careful not to cause it to bounce so he didn't jostle Shōta, "the faster you can go back to terrorizing your students."

The grin on Shōta's face was devious.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

A few hours later, after Shōta had woken up from the doze he had fallen into and they had lunch, Shōta brought up that they should give a call to Nezu.

"I know the meeting is tomorrow, but I think we should give Nezu a whole update about Kurosaki before that. He got your text last night about him being awake and stable. Considering what Kurosaki said, I believe that's appropriate."

"You're right—"

"I could stand to hear that more."

"Didn't you say you were still tired?"

"I'm tired all the time."

Hizashi shook his head, reminding himself that he chose to marry this man. Willingly.

He placed his phone on the coffee table and left it on speaker so that both he and Shōta could speak and hear. It did not take many rings to connect to Nezu.

[Yamada-kun!] Nezu's cheerful voice came through the speaker. [Good to hear from you.]

"Equally so," Shōta said.

[Ah, Aizawa-kun! I am glad to hear your voice. How are you feeling today?]

"Getting better, but still tired. Thank you."

"Kōchō," Hizashi greeted, "How are you?"

[Oh, I can't complain here, thank you.] They heard some papers rustling on Nezu's end before he spoke again, [To what do I owe this pleasant call? I am sure I can guess, but I do love a good surprise!]

Like he doesn't already know the answer, Hizashi thought with good humor. Shōta gave him a look that said he was thinking the same thing. Even as a student, a joke had floated around about how much the principal knew at any given time. 'Nezu-kōchō Knows All, Hears All, Sees All.' Even the students now were still keeping that alive, not that he blamed them. With how much information Nezu had, it certainly felt like that at times.

Kioku tried to bat at a folder half hanging off the table, but Hizashi gently shooed him away before scooching it to fully rest on the table. "I don't think we could ever surprise you! We're calling about Kurosaki."

[I had a feeling. I, too, have something to say about Kurosaki, but do go ahead first.]

Shōta and Hizashi shared a pensive look. Nezu has not met Kurosaki, so what would he have to say?

"Kurosaki," Shōta began, "he is…troubled. We already know that he has combat experience, that much is easy to tell. However, when Hizashi and I went to see him, he was panicking. A bad panic attack—trauma response."

They heard Nezu hum to show that he was listening.

"Potential PTSD. It's common for Pros to have it, so it was familiar to me. I was able to recognize that in Kurosaki. We managed to calm him down, but he was still out of it for a short while. Dissociation."

[Ah, I see, I see. What do you propose?]

Shōta frowned, though Nezu could not see it. "What do you mean?"

[We have a man with no background to be known of who can fight, protected the students and yourself, but has trauma to deal with. The meeting is on Monday, but that does leave some time in-between. Did he say if he knows anyone that can help him?]

"No, no one," Hizashi said sadly. "When we spoke with him, he was surprised and bothered that there was no trace of his family, even though his family has passed away. And what we found really weird is that he has no knowledge about Quirks, any of the Pro Heroes, or UA."

There was a distinct silence on the other end of the phone. In a surprised tone that Hizashi had rarely heard, Nezu eked out, [Pardon me? Is that right?]

"Mhm. He thought we were using something called Ree…Ree-su?" Hizashi turned to Shōta to see if he remembered.

"Reiatsu."

"Ah, thank you. Yeah! Reiatsu…whatever that is. He thought we were something called 'Fullbringers' because of our powers and started to get agitated—stress, pretty much—and a little panicky because of it. He also said he was from Karakura-chō, which is nowhere to be found on any map. He said it was where Hosu-shi is supposed to be."

[My, how peculiar,] Nezu's thoughtfulness was apparent even through the phone, and Hizashi could already imagine him beginning to spin ideas and research in his head. [I have neither heard of Karakura-chō nor the term 'Fullbringer.' The term 'reiatsu' is also foreign to me and does not sound like a colloquial used by any other country.] There was the sound of a chair squeaking, which might have been him getting up from his chair to start walking around. [No knowledge of the modern Quirk nor the current social-political climate…]

"Oh yeah," Shōta tacked on, crossing his arms lightly as not to agitate his injuries, "and he said that our Japan isn't a Japan that he knows. Like he is from some other kind of Japan. It sounds incredibly sketchy to me."

[Another Japan? How odd!] Only Nezu would find fascination in this scenario. Typical of their Kōchō.

"Odd…might be an understatement, Kōchō."

[I want to think more about his today, but I do have something of my own to share.]

"Sure."

"Go ahead!"

[I had called Yamada-kun last night as I had experienced an…anomaly, let's say. I have been keeping Kurosaki-san's swords in my office along with the butterflies found on his person—]

Hizashi blinked and Shōta looked at the phone with a weird expression on his face. Butterflies? When did butterflies get on Kurosaki's person?

[—and both the butterflies and swords began to display strange behavior. The butterflies grew agitated, and the swords began to shake in the case they have been kept in.] Nezu paused for a moment before continuing, [As you both know, I am an animal with a Quirk. I am more in tune with things that humans cannot sense, and as such, I was able to sense a disturbance that left me uneasy.]

"That does not sound good," Hizashi leaned forward towards the phone with his elbows resting on his knees. "What happened?" A quick glance at his husband showed him that he was equally focused on what Nezu had to say.

[The swords began to shake and rattle so much that they began to crack the glass case they were in. So much so that they shattered it not long after I called you with a black energy I have not seen before.]

Black energy? Wait, he'd seen that before!

Shōta beat him to it. "We've seen black energy before. If it's the same as the one that I have in mind then it is part of Kurosaki's Quirk. During his panic attack, he pushed us away with black energy that exerted a vast amount of pressure."

"Sent us to our knees, yo."

[Is that so? My, my, what a situation we have on our hands here. Aizawa-kun, Yamada-kun."

They both sat up straighter at the mention of their names. "Hai, Kōchō?"

[I want to hear your honest opinion. I trust both of your judgments of this situation. Do you think that Kurosaki is a threat?]

Is Kurosaki a threat?

Hizashi thought back to what he saw at the hospital. A man with no idea where he was, no idea what Quirks or UA was, and a traumatic background that Hizashi heavily read as being tortured. Those metal bands around his wrists and the scars around them did not leave much to the imagination. And, Hizashi was incredibly familiar with how skin looked and scarred after being held in restraints. "I think," he began slowly, "that Kurosaki isn't a threat. We don't know where he came from, but all in all, I don't think anyone that means us, the students, or the public harm would put theirself at risk to save kids, a man they don't know, nor Villains they've never heard of."

Shōta nodded and reached for his hand, which Hizashi was more than pleased to secure in his own. "Hizashi has a good point. I would like to add, however, that anyone can become a threat when forced into a bad situation. Kurosaki has been in some kind of bad situation, did not know what was going on when he got spat out by Kurogiri's warp gate, and yet still saved the students." And myself was left unsaid. "I have not felt ill intent from him from the short time we were able to speak with him. His Quirk—despite him not calling it a Quirk—is nothing like we've ever seen, but he did not use it to harm us. He has the potential to be dangerous, yet any trained fighter holds that same potential. I could be a threat if I so chose to be."

That was an understatement. Shōta was one of the best fighters that Hizashi knew, and that was before one added his deadliness factor. Although his husband used his tanto on more inanimate objects than people, the well-cared-for blade had seen blood over the years.

Not only that, but Hizashi knew that people had called Shōta a Villain because of his Quirk when they were growing up. Even before Hizashi knew him, Shōta said people thought his Quirk villainous and that he should stop trying to be a Hero. They said erasing Quirks was evil, which made Shōta evil. During one of their late-night conversations early into their marriage, Shōta had admitted to him that he often had thought of how his life could have been different if he had listened to those kinds of people. How Hizashi and Oboro and Nemuri had made such a difference in his life. It had made Hizashi want to hug him forever, never letting him go, when he heard that without them and with the vile words of strangers, Shōta might have taken a different life path.

Shōta could be a threat if he wanted, but he never wanted to be toward the people he cared for.

[Thank you for your thoughts.] Nezu said. [As I have not interacted with Kurosaki personally, I appreciate your input. I believe we will get a more established picture of his situation on Monday. Do you have any other thoughts?]

Well…Shōta didn't call Hizashi a bleeding heart for anything.

"I just think needs help. I have an idea…"

[Oh? Do tell.]

Monday, April 29, 2X75

Ichigo was released from the hospital Monday morning.

He wanted to sleep.

He wanted to charge into the institution—UA, they called it, UA—Sonído and Shunpo a mix of soundless speed, and snatch Zangetsu up in his arms. To hold the other part of his soul's blade-self close to him forever and ever.

He wanted his Zanpakutō.

He needed the other part of his soul.

Being separated like this had been giving him anxiety since he woke up in sheer panic Saturday night. Throughout the entire discharge process, he had been jittery and restless. He had tried to keep it controlled, bouncing his leg up and down and fiddling with a pen he found between his fingers, as he listened to the doctor go over his discharge plan with him. He had listened to the doctor talk about how he was chronically dehydrated and malnourished—Yeah, living in an apocalypse and being a captive would do that, the small, snotty part of his brain wanted to say; it almost sounded a bit like Zan—and gave him a nutrition plan to follow that would steadily get him back to an appropriate weight. The doctor had also been concerned about his various past injuries that had shown up in scans that they had taken when he had originally been admitted.

Did you see anything from when a hole was blown through my chest and I died? That had been the Trauma™ speaking, but luckily being more coherent helped his brain-to-mouth filter, so he kept it to himself. If he joked about it, maybe he wouldn't scream awake tonight.

(Seriously though, there was that small part of him that held a sick, morbid curiosity of wanting to know what his bones and insides spoke of the shit he's been through. Did his bones have char marks? Were there signs of snapped tendons that had healed? Did Blut Vene leave marks down on the cellular level? How much could be seen of his time in His castle, under His 'attendants?' How much of my broken self can you see and read?)

Wow, Kisuke really had rubbed off on him more than he thought.

His chest ached. How he missed the man.

He felt Zangetsu stir in his mind, faint with distance.

"Kurosaki-san, you good over there?"

Ichigo blinked back to awareness. Right, right, he was leaving the hospital. Because Ichigo had literally no contacts wherever this place he landed was. Musutafu, which still did not tell him what sort of parallel, comic-book place this had to be.

"Haven't you ever wondered what other dimensions there could possibly be?" Kisuke asked as he used a reishi platform to get to the topmost part of whatever machine he had built. Before Ichigo could answer, he jumped to another part of his lab.

Ichigo watched with fondness and a little confusion as Kisuke flitted from monitor to monitor, table to table, typing and writing calculations and notes like a madman. The scientist was in the midst of one of his 'big brain episodes,' as Ichigo called it, where he was so grasped with the need to get everything out of his head, he moved damn near like a tornado. It had been going on for about an hour now. So deep into his element, Ichigo could even feel the fringes of Benihime rising to the surface.

Kisuke's Crimson Princess was as much a part of Kisuke as he was of her. Benihime was best known for her sadism, her cries for blood, and her love of manipulation and control, but part of that was Kisuke. Kisuke was best known for his mind, his intellect, his sharp danger, and his deadly intent, but part of that was Benihime. Sometimes Benihime brought out the deadliness in Kisuke, while other times Kisuke brought out the curiosity and joy of learning and knowing in Benihime. This was one of those times when Ichigo was feeling the rise of Benihime, the song and charge of her joy in planning and experimenting in Kisuke's reiatsu, like a creature rising from the tide.

Kisuke was Benihime was Kisuke was Benihime. Just as Ichigo was Zangetsu was Ichigo was Zangetsu.

So in their element like this, they shone. It was beautiful and made Ichigo fall all that more in love with this chaotic mess of a man. Just as Ichigo thrived under the moon and stars, Kisuke thrived in his own machinations, in exploration and research, in experimentation and data.

There were those who did not understand how Benihime, the sadistic princess, was part of the research aspect of Kisuke's soul. What they did not understand was that knowledge, in this case, was power. Benihime could manipulate and exact her will and desires better the more she knew. She may not have been tying and weaving someone to break them apart, but weaving together new knowledge and plans excited her, nonetheless. Truly Shinigami and Zanpakutō were one and the same.

"Not in the way I think you're thinking." Ichigo supplied. He leaned back against the wall, hands hiding in the sleeves of his thick winter haori. "Tell me?"

His question actually got Kisuke to slow down and stop for a moment, sitting down on a wheeled stool at one of the lab tables. If they weren't in the lab and Kisuke didn't have hundreds of calculations running, notebooks and pens all over the place, and pretty deep in his big brain episode, he would have come to sit next to Ichigo. And so came the tidal wave of Kisuke's explanations. It was good that Ichigo had known Kisuke for as long as he had, or he might have been lost in the rapid-fire pace of his words. Sheer excitement. When explaining his findings to others, Kisuke would normally be careful and slow down so as not to overwhelm people. With Ichigo, he didn't have to hold himself back. He could be free with his glee and wonder. His train of thoughts and hypotheses. "Previously, we knew that there were four main dimensions, the worlds, along with the pocket dimension of the Dangai. The Seireitei, the World of the Living, Hueco Mundo, and Hell, yes?"

Ichigo nodded to show he was following.

"Good. Now, after the Convergence," Kisuke brought up a visual on one of the many screens of the three worlds crashing together, "the Seireitei, the World of the Living, and Hueco Mundo all collided together. I still have to figure out where Hell sits in all of this. Anyway, this Convergence basically broke dimensional space, as you already know. Space and time are often connected, which then made me think about Yhwach's The Almighty."

Ichigo couldn't help his nose wrinkle at the mention of that madman. Similarly, Zangetsu let loose a growl in his head. "What about it?"

"What does it do?"

Ichigo thought for a moment, trying to hold back flashes of terror and despair from the fight that started it all. The Almighty allowed Yhwach to see all possibilities, all timelines where a single event could occur and its consequences. "Different timelines, different possibilities. So…" he took a bit to think it over, "like, alternate dimensions or something?"

"Exactly!" Kisuke clapped his hands once in lieu of his fan.

"Like how different Kidō can create pocket dimensions and whatnot?"

Kisuke looks proud of him for remembering. "Very astute this afternoon." During his time as a Substitute, Ichigo hadn't been taught a fraction of the basics a regular Shinigami knew. He was often mocked for not grasping the 'simple, obvious things,' which had often frustrated him because he had never been taught any of that stuff. Kisuke never had made fun of him for it, aside from the joke here and there about his reiatsu control (he knew about Ichigo's massive reiryoku levels and Ichigo knew the teasing held no real merit). He taught him patiently throughout the years. As confusing as Rukia had made Kidō seem, Kisuke was able to break it down into ways he understood. All this was done without mockery, which comforted and eased Ichigo in a way that he hadn't realized he needed.

Ichigo smirked and sent him a wink. "Well, I learned from the best, didn't I?"

Seeing Kisuke's cheeks dust pink was worth it. "Careful, Ichigo," his eyes gleamed, "We're still in the lab. To continue, pocket dimensions aren't unheard of to Shinigami and other spiritual beings in the know. Pocket dimensions and the manipulation of pocket dimension mean that dimensional space—and even time—are more malleable than what others think. Alternate dimensions, they're fascinating to think about! Possibilities of minute differences affecting whole other—"

Sensing that Kisuke was about to work himself further into research, he held up a small tray. "I brought food."

"Why didn't you say that sooner?!"

"Yeah, just tired."

Yamada was standing next to him as Aizawa signed the discharge papers. (Ichigo felt bad that Aizawa was here and not resting or something. The pressure of his reiatsu surely had not been beneficial to the man's recovery even if he had only been exposed to it for a few moments.) Ichigo had already signed his part back upstairs in his room, and since he was under the care of UA, Aizawa was privy to sign off. "I bet. You have a serious case of Quirk exhaustion!" Yamada then backtracked more quietly so as not to draw in listening ears, "Or is it exhaustion of that thing you told us? Ree-su, was it?"

Ichigo's lips quirked at the pronunciation. "Reiatsu," he enunciated slowly enough to make it easy to hear. "In this case, it would be reiryoku exhaustion. From what you explained about Quirk exhaustion, it's similar."

Reiatsu and reiryoku exhaustion were never fun. Although he had massive stores of reiryoku—thank you personal training and freaky genetic makeup—being trapped under His 'care' and being spat out of a freaking wormhole—warp gate, they called it—he was very low on reiryoku stores. Even after the Convergence, he had never felt this drained. He ran a hand through his hair, the texture making him grimace.

He had no toiletries to speak of other than the cheap toothbrush the hospital provided him with. With how tired he was, he had not been able to muster the energy to take a shower, so he had resorted to sitting on the toilet seat and wiping himself down with wet, disposable paper towels. He'd had worse. He wasn't sure what he looked like, either. The mirror in the attached hospital bathroom had seemed to almost taunt him. 'Look at how terrible you look,' it had seemed to laugh the more he stared at it, 'Come and see what He did to you.'

…Ichigo would hold off on a mirror until he was settled somewhere.

He wasn't sure where Aizawa and Yamada were taking him, but he hoped he could get some toiletries wherever it was. The nurses tried to give him back his clothes, the black shirt and white pants he had been wearing when all of this had started, but he refused. They were confused by it but did not argue. The only clothing items that he had to his name were his binder and his underwear. (And even the binder he didn't want as it had been an article of clothing that He had given him.)

Thankfully, by some kind of miracle, Yamada had brought him a simple light gray hoodie and sweatpants, stating that he figured Ichigo would want something comfortable to wear. The shoes were probably from the gift shop.

Yamada was already sizing up to be one of Ichigo's favorite people. He would pay him back whenever he got money…however that would come to be.

"Reiryoku?" Yamada blinked behind his glasses.

"I can give a more in-depth perspective on it later, but it's tied to my power. Low reiryoku is like Quirk exhaustion, from my understanding of your explanation earlier." Before helping him get discharged this morning, they had come into his room to tell him a little about how things were going to play out. All he knew was that he was under UA's protection and that UA would help him get back on his feet. What that meant exactly, he was not sure.

Oh, and there was a meeting later today where he had to explain himself to a bunch of people he didn't know. In a place that he had no clue previously existed. Without Zangetsu's blade-self.

Wonderful.

The only reason he was not panicking was this line of thinking: if they had wanted to kill him, they would have already done so. He had been in more than a perfect place to be kept prisoner or killed after he passed out, And yet he had awoken—albeit in a panic—in a hospital where the staff had been taking care of him.

A small part in the back of his mind hissed at him that this could all be an illusion, a facsimile attempt at his brain protecting himself from His machinations. A defense mechanism that was building an entire world where He did not exist, and the apocalypse hadn't destroyed the fabric of space between the realms.

Wait, fuck, what if it was true?

Aizen hadn't been seen in years since the Convergence first smashed the worlds together. They hadn't known if he was alive or dead by the time Ichigo had been captured. Could Aizen have gotten a hold of Ichigo somehow? Could this be Kyōka Suigetsu? No, no, that would have only been possible if Aizen had been near Him. But, Aizen didn't align himself with His ideals. Neither would He stand to have Aizen near him.

Stirrings of Zangetsu trying to comfort him drifted through their bond.

He heard footsteps approaching, which forced him to get it together as best as he could. He was still tense, but Yamada was more focused on his husband to notice.

Aizawa came back to them. "All paperwork has been signed off," he said as he handed Ichigo a thin folder. As Ichigo looked through it, Aizawa continued, "Doctor's instructions are in there about what you need to do for aftercare.

Ichigo had seen it all upstairs when the discharge nurse had been going through everything with him.

1. Rest is paramount to recovery. Please rest and sleep as much as possible.

2. Stay hydrated more than you think you need. Do not drink much at once; steadily sip throughout the day. Avoid alcohol and coffee.

3. A follow-up with a dietician is highly recommended regarding long-term malnutrition. A diet plan will be discussed in order to get back to a healthy weight. (For any questions, please call 54 – XXXX – XXXX) (1)

4. A follow-up with a Quirk healer is highly recommended regarding past traumatic injuries.

5. START FOLLOWING MEDICATIONS:

5a) cream – apply to wrists 2x/daily in the morning and nighttime. Wait 30 minutes before exposing applied areas to the sun.

5b) painkiller – take as needed.

Rest? He hadn't had a peaceful night's rest in…well, it's been far too long to remember. If it hadn't been for

the stress of keeping watch in the Karakura stronghold, then it had been his captivity with Him. Did his body even know how to rest anymore? (His few memories of a peaceful rest were times when both he and Kisuke were tired from their respective long days. Shower, dinner, and meeting in the bed they shared. Their bodies were so tired, yet so in tune with one another, that they gravitated towards each other, comfortably sinking in each other's reiatsus. Limbs tangled, heat shared…those few times there hadn't been a battle raging around them or the need to scavenge for food or the displeasure of darkening a resident's door to tell them the death of a loved one…those quiet, peaceful times had been the best.)

Staying hydrated shouldn't be a problem. But, the urge to just gulp down water when he saw it would be hard to resist. The ice chips had been nice when he awoke, but they got tiring fast. Clean water had been paramount ever since everything went to hell.

Could a dietician really help him? Meals and food had been really weird when the Convergence happened. Power had been spotty for a while, so perishable goods had been hard to store. Imports to Japan had been cut off for a long time—much of Japan's goods were imported, so that had been a spectacular gunshot in the foot—so as the months had gone on, many realized things had to be rationed fast. Ichigo had to get used to cutting back on his meals and food rather quickly. For a spiritual being with high reiatsu and reiryoku levels…that hadn't been easy. The urge to squirrel away the food they had given him yesterday and this morning had clutched him like a vice. (There were two small Jell-O cups in his hoodie pocket and about three cracker packets in the pockets of his sweatpants.)

He wasn't sure what a Quirk healer could do for him, or even what a Quirk healer was. Did they repair Quirks that were messed up? Or were they like the healers of the Fourth Division, where they used their power to heal others? Would a Quirk work on him? Reiatsu-based attacks and Kidō worked on him, but Quirks were supposedly different.

Ah, medication. His lover and enemy. Normal mundane human medication had stopped working on him not long after he turned 17. Headache? He couldn't take two high-strength painkillers like normal people and call it a day. No, he would either have to take between ten to twelve strong over-the-counter painkillers or somehow find some of Kisuke's 'Special Urahara Kisuke Pain Be-Gone Painkillers.' High enough dose for powerful beings. Anesthetics? Hah, good luck with that. They found that out the hard way when he needed emergency surgery combined with Kaidō. Waking up screaming in the middle of surgery, feeling his own entrails being repaired and placed back inside of him, because the anesthetics wore off had not been fun or pleasant. (Also a perfect time for his regeneration to not be working, not.) The cream on the medication list might work to help the irritated skin around his wrists actually heal, but there was still doubt in his mind. He had to hold in a scoff at the painkillers.

"I must also let you know because they pressed that I had to remind you, that the doctor and nurses are extremely against you being discharged so early."

Ichigo shrugged, "There's not much they can do, really. They pumped me with saline, gave me food. Nothing much else they can do," he mumbled the last part.

As he adjusted the baggy hoodie on him, he missed the look Aizawa and Yamada shared.

He vehemently refused the wheelchair one of the nurses tried to get him to sit in to wheel him out the door. As kind as he could, he insisted that he was fine walking on his own. It was a battle of wills. His brown eyes didn't back down from her pink ones, and it was like this for almost a whole minute. Joke was on her; he was used to keeping his eyes open for a long time. The sand of Hueco Mundo, the ashes from the dead. Keeping a keen eye on his watch shift, keeping track of the minute readings on Kisuke's devices.

I'm not blinking anytime soon, miss.

About ten more seconds passed.

Pink eyes blinked and she groaned.

Ichigo held in his little cheer and settled for a, "Thank you anyway, but I'm okay." He was still tired as fuck, but there was no way that he was sitting in that wheelchair.

With that, he, Aizawa, and Yamada began to walk out of the large lobby. It felt weird to walk out with nothing in hand (the cheap toothbrush the hospital had provided him with had been disposable). No Shihakushō, no Zanpakutō, no carrier bag, no nothing. He felt naked without Zangetsu.

"What happens next?"

"Next is we bring you—

"—Holy shit." Ichigo didn't mean to cut off Hizashi, but the sight in front of him when they exited the hospital was one that he would have never imagined seeing.

In front of them was a super sleek American-made car. A Ford Mustang, though he didn't know the year. It practically shone in the morning sun, and its red accents made it look like it was ready to take off. The Mustang looked to be a little more futuristic than Ichigo was used to seeing. He wasn't sure if that was because he wasn't a car fanatic or if Musutafu was a sports car hub. Nothing this nice could have survived back home. For something this nice, the person who owned it had to have a lot of money.

Ichigo was never a big car guy, but even he could tell this was a luxury car that was well taken care of. It was the kind of car that one would see in a movie or American car commercial. This had to be some doctor's ride or an important, wealthy visitor.

"Whose car is this? I feel broke just looking at it."

A look of mischievousness passed over Aizawa's bandaged face. "It's Hizashi's."

He could only guess the expression on his own face. "No way!" He turned to Yamada who had a proud grin on his face. "That's really yours?!"

Yamada opened the door and pulled the passenger seat forward. He didn't expect Yamada to do that for him, so it took him a second to realize he had to go in the backseat. "Sure is!" Yamada locked the passenger seat back into place once Ichigo stepped in and held the door open for Aizawa to get in carefully. Once Yamada got in the car and set it in drive, he looked at Ichigo through the rearview mirror. "My Meicchan here is my baby! Well, other than Shō here."

Aizawa only sighed. Ichigo was getting the vibe that this wasn't the first time Yamada talked about both the car—er, Meicchan—and Aizawa like this.

"I named it after my cousin in America, Meryl. It was during one of my visits to see her that I found this beauty. I knew it was going to take some work, but Meicchan was practically calling to me, ya dig?"

"You sound very into cars, Yamada-san." Ichigo watched the scenery of the hospital pass behind them as they began to merge with the rest of the city's traffic patterns. "Is that an interest of yours?" He'd never met anyone that was into cars like Yamada might be. Renji had been really into motorcycles and dirt bikes from the World of the Living, but that had waned when everything happened.

Yamada's laugh was cheerful, and Ichigo felt like it was nice to hear it early in the morning. "Yeah, I am! I of course started with models easily found here in Japan, but with some of my family being in America, I was familiar with American models, too. My cousin Meryl is a mechanic, so I guess it runs in the genes." Buildings passed, short and tall, many almost blindingly reflective with their clean windows against the morning sun. Ichigo took note of how many overpasses they went under and the one overpass they took to get onto the highway. A very dense city. Karakura-chō, before it had become a stronghold, had been a smaller town. The only time Ichigo had ever been in a dense city had been if he traveled to Tōkyō-to. Even Hinode-machi was bigger than Karakura-chō.

"Very nice."

He listened to Yamada talk and Aizawa add his two cents here and there as the ride continued. It was pleasant to hear something mundane as a conversation about cars and interests and whatnot. Calming, even. Yamada was excited, apparently, to get back to teaching, while Aizawa was still officially off-duty teaching until tomorrow. Aizawa wasn't happy about that, but the man would rather wait another day than another week. So, they were going to UA, huh? Ichigo wondered what teaching was like in this UA place. Sure, he had taught some English to the kids in the stronghold when he had time, but it had never been anything formal like Yamada or Aizawa did.

And thinking about UA, a thought wrestled itself out of his brain and hit him upside the head.

Oh Kami, I got into a car with people I barely know and have no idea what we're even doing.

Zangetsu would have called him an idiot and laughed at him. The bastard. (His bastard.)

"Ah, Yamada-san, Aizawa-san," he cleared his throat sheepishly, "what is exactly the plan here? I appreciate you picking me up as I have nowhere to go, but what is going to happen now?" The questions he should have been asking in the beginning. Kami, what was wrong with him?

Aizawa turned in his seat to face Ichigo. Although his face looked exhausted under the bandages, his eyes were clear and alert. "Sorry, that is our fault for not explaining right away. As of right now, we are going to UA. I thought it best for you to meet the person in charge, and you mentioned the importance of your swords. The principal has them safe in his office. If you have any questions that we could not answer, he will be able to help you."

He nearly had to slap a hand over his mouth to keep the loud THANK FUCK from blurting out.

"Thank you," he was genuine in his thankfulness. Being apart from Zangetsu was like missing a limb. It just wasn't right. (At least he wouldn't have to storm the place with Sonído and Shunpo as he had originally been entertaining.) With Aizawa telling him about the principal having Zangetsu, his body practically itched with nerves to get there sooner. He fiddled with the cracker packs in his pockets, careful not to break them.

His restlessness must have been apparent because it caught both the other men's attention. Aizawa was the one to comment since Yamada was focused on the road. "Color me curious. I have my own interest in blades and weapons, but I have never seen anything like your swords before." Before Ichigo could ask how he'd seen Zangetsu when he was unconscious, Aizawa specified, "Hizashi showed me pictures of them. They are impressive."

"Sure are!" Hizashi splayed his fingers over the steering wheel like he was miming an explosion with them. "And take it from me, Kurosaki. Shō here ain't one to throw compliments willy-nilly, so a compliment like that means he's serious."

"'Zashi!"

"What? You know it's true!"

Their exchange lifted Ichigo's mood a bit. He hadn't known these two for long, but they seemed like interesting people. "Why, thank you, Aizawa-san." Ichigo almost preened from the compliment, and he knew that was part of Zangetsu straining through their bond (closer, closer, they were getting closer). After all, Zangetsu was part of him as was he part of Zangetsu. His Zanpakutō was making an impression on Aizawa and although the man in front of him did not know it, was Ichigo making an impression on him as well.

Mmnn, did I hear m' name? Zangetsu's voice was coming through more easily.

Zan! Oh, how Ichigo could yell in delight hearing Zangetsu's voice more clearly and without as much effort as last night. I'm almost to you, I'm almost to you.

Thank fuck.Ichigo held in a snort—he and Zangetsu were truly one and the same. One brain cell. I hate it here.

Then.

Wait a minute. Did I hear someone talking about me?

Aizawa-san called you impressive.

…Well. There was a moment where he felt Zangetsu flounder like he didn't know how to take that. Uh yeah. Yeah! I AM fucking impressive! What kind of shitty-ass Zanpakutō would I be if I wasn't impressive? I'm your Zanpakutō. Duh.

Aizawa ignored Hizashi and continued. "As I was saying, I have never seen swords like yours before. I, myself, am partial to my tanto when using anything bladed. Your swords are important to you. Why? What makes them so important that you would be so distraught as not to have them?"

Hey Google, how do I tell someone that my swords are literally a part of my soul and myself without sounding like I'm off my rocker? How was he going to explain this one? He knew he would have to talk at some meeting later today, but he didn't really think about bringing Zanpakutō up. He wasn't an idiot. He knew how that explanation would sound to someone who didn't know a thing about Shinigami and Zanpakutō. Ichigo had just recovered enough to move about in this place; he'd rather not be punted into some insane institution.

He hesitated before answering, unsure of how to even answer Aizawa's question. "I...well, I'm not all that comfortable going into detail. Let's just say they hold a lot of meaning to me. It's personal."

Hizashi nodded while Aizawa seemed to accept that as an answer. "Alright, I respect that. Thanks for entertaining my curiosity."

At least they didn't look at him weirdly. "No problem."

The rest of the drive was quiet between the three of them—as quiet as it could be with Hizashi's humming to the music on the radio—but the quiet wasn't uncomfortable. Ichigo was more focused on watching the world outside his window. It looked so much like Japan he knew before the Convergence. People walking about their days, cars in traffic, shops open to business…it was all the same.

Other than some people having mutations he was unaccustomed to seeing.

He wouldn't really blink too much if they were Hollows or Arrancars—shit, even his Vasto Lorde form looked scary—but on humans, it was throwing him for sure. Some of them he could overlook like different colored hair or eyes or even some horns here or there. The ones where people had TVs for heads or drills for arms or fish heads made him feel like he was in another…world…

Which he probably was…

Kami, he could slap himself right now.

"Ah, Kurosaki-san, are you getting out?"

Ichigo blinked. He looked around and realized that the car was parked and both Yamada and Aizawa were waiting for him outside of it. His surroundings were different, no longer in roadways but now pedestrian walkways and some tall walls. How long was I in my head?

You finally losing it over there, Ichi?

Even with the snark, it was good to hear Zangetsu's voice even clearer than before. So close.

I'll show you how much I can lose it, he shot back good-naturedly, not really meaning it. With a more genuine tone, softer, he said, I'll see you soon. I'm almost there.

There was a pulse of thankfulness, lessened than if he were holding Zangetsu's blades physically but still perfectly strong enough to feel. …Put some pep in that step! Thank you.

Ichigo maneuvered his way out of Hizashi's car, closing the door behind him. "Ah, sorry. Was a little lost in my thoughts." He turned from them to look around. "So where is UA?"

Aizawa's grin (which Ichigo would learn much later that it meant he was up to no good) made him wary. It reminded him of Shinji, in a way. (He had to push away the ache that came with the thought.) The man pointed to the tall gates as Hizashi took out a keycard to swipe at a pad Ichigo hadn't noticed before. The walls, which Ichigo hadn't paid close attention to, were massive. He would have thought they were privacy walls for a business or something, but they were not in that kind of area in the city. "This is UA."

All Ichigo could do was blink. There was no way a school was behind these massive, gated walls.

He was about to express his disbelief, but a robotic voice cut him off. [Security clearance accepted. Faculty member: Yamada Hizashi – Present Mic, accepted. Welcome.]

What's goin' on out there?

The rumble and groan of automated doors moving sounded in the air as the gates opened for them. Slowly at first, but once the gates kept moving, they picked up speed. A sliver of what lay behind soon made way to a wide maw.

A huge campus greeted Ichigo. He paid no attention to Yamada and Aizawa taking amusement in his dumbfounded reaction because all he could think about was the whole damn city that was this so-called high school. There was no fucking way this was a high school. Even the University of Tokyo campus hadn't been this large back home, and that had been one of the best universities in the region! Karakura High hadn't been even a fraction of this.

They said this was UA.

This was the place they worked in.

His brain went blank for a moment, then just let everything out.

…

"THAT'S UA?!"

Published: 7/4/23, Posted on here: 1/23/24

(1) 54 is the area code for Shizuoka, which is where Musutafu is located. Musutafu is the location of the hospital where Ichigo was in. As for the format of the number, landline numbers in Japan are written in the format of XX-XXXX-XXXX for landline numbers, and 0XX-XXXX-XXXX for cellular lines.