Iron and dark chocolate. It washed over his taste buds as he slowly came to consciousness. A sharp contrast, and unnerving, but it made Ichigo safe—it felt safe. The iron—the blood surrounded him like a blanket, smothering him in its protection.
Ichigo sighs quietly and turns onto his side. He didn't know where he was, but he was surrounded by warmth and safety. So, he isn't scared; he can't be scared.
This feels like creepy geta-bōshi, even though creepy geta-bōshi never smelt or felt like blood and only ever felt like chocolate. Though, he's never been able to taste it before. It feels better with the blood than when he just felt like chocolate. He was probably hiding it then... Stupid geta-bōshi.
Ichigo breathes out sharply before he buries his head further into his pillow. His head hurts. A lot—worse than a lot.
He barely hears a rustle of fabric over the deafening heartbeat in his ears before there's a hand gently placed on his forehead. It's rough and covered in callouses. Ichigo makes a small noise, almost like a whine, before the hand carefully moves to press against the side of his throat.
"Ichigo-kun, can you hear me?" Geta-bōshi speaks quietly, almost like he's afraid of hurting Ichigo with his voice.
Ichigo hums into the pillow. He doesn't want to move; moving makes his head hurt more and he doesn't want that.
"...g'ta-b'sh'..." Ichigo's words slur and jumble together, barely coming out as actual words. He furrows his eyebrows and nuzzles further into the pillow at the heavy ache in his throat.
"Go back to sleep. I'll wake you when you're better," Geta-bōshi says instead of an answer, still speaking softly. He raises his hand back up to place it on top of Ichigo's head.
Ichigo whines loudly when the hand pulled back. There's a soft intake of breath and a beat of silence before geta-bōshi places his hand back on Ichigo's head, threading his fingers through the soft orange strands.
Some kind of noise—almost like a purr, but probably not. He isn't a cat after all—leaves Ichigo's throat as he pushes back against the hand.
"...th'nk y'..." Ichigo hums again, already feeling his dreams try to pull him back. All he could feel was safe. But... but there's something missing. Something's wrong...
The blood and dark chocolate spike before becoming almost syrupy in guilt. "It... it is the least I could do... Ichigo-kun."
As he falls back asleep, Ichigo has a flitting feeling of dread. There's no scent of autumn rain during a soft morning; Ichigo can't feel it anywhere.
He's unconscious before the fleeting thought can process.
It's only been a few days since the Hollow attacks against Kurosaki-san and Ichigo-kun. And, while the first day had been completely draining and full of high possibilities of death, things have finally been calming down. Thankfully.
Ichigo-kun woke up completely delirious right after Benihime had finished stabilizing his soul, and he was in complete hysterics. An expected reaction for what they had to do to get the boy's soul stabilized.
The near-death experience with the Hollow, and the... dragon, had awoken Ichigo-kun's latent reiryoku. In pure instinct to survive, his soul had forcefully awakened his Shinigami side. Unfortunately, the Hollow that had transferred to the boy had combined with his Shinigami side and had to be awoken too. His soul was even more unbalanced than before with only three parts of his soul awake. It had to wake up the Quincy side as well. All of this within a couple hours.
In terms of scientific discovery, Kisuke should be proud of his successful creation of a hybrid of all four beings—all five, actually—capable of living normally. He should be immensely proud of himself, but it only leaves the taste of ash and disgust in his mouth.
He doesn't know if it's because he's sentenced an innocent child to most likely become a sacrifice for war or if it's because Ichigo is such a kind, loving, beautiful soul who shouldn't have to deal with any of this. Of course, this is rhetorical. He does know. It's both, really.
Kisuke takes off his bucket hat to run a hand through his hair. "I can see why you spoil your son so much. I would too, given the chance."
He sighs heavily as he stays seated by a comatose Kurosaki-san. She—or the dragon living inside of her—has yet to show even the slightest sign of activity or awareness. If it weren't for her slow breathing, Kisuke would think she was truly dead.
Kisuke opens his eyes and stares at the woman he saved twice already. With the help of Isshin, he had cleaned Kurosaki-san and Ichigo-kun after they were in stable enough condition to move.
Her hair was brushed and let loose in their natural curls. Her skin had lost its luster and appeared ghostly in the soft light of the moon. She was still quite beautiful despite looking like a corpse. Kisuke can see why so many people around Kurosaki-san had wanted to keep her at their sides.
Kisuke closes his eyes once more with a defeated curve in his shoulders. "You must wake up, Kurosaki-san. Your family needs you."
There's a stall in the air, almost like a pause in time. There's a void where just simple space used to be.
"And this Kurosaki-san needs me." Kisuke reaches for the handle of his cane, eyes sharp and almost feral before his mask is placed back on. He freezes for a moment—a moment too long for someone such as him—before his eyes narrow and his grip tightens around his cane.
There, right in front of him, is Kurosaki-san sitting perfectly straight with a slight smirk on her face. But, it isn't Kurosaki-san awake.
"...dragon-san," Kisuke greets slowly.
"You are clearly a Wizard. Has your kind fallen so low to not recognize me?" The dragon had taken Kurosaki-san's voice to speak, yet there was a double-tone of another sound; a shrill screech that echoed behind each word.
"The East Branch does not deal with dragons. As far as I had known, we had no records of any dragons to deal with them."
The smirk widens into a grin, twisted and wrong on Kurosaki-san's face. "I am one of the Märchens, as the Witches and Wizards have deigned to call my kind. They have named me Red Dress."
"I assume that means you are quite strong, then?" Kisuke has no knowledge of these Märchens, but the name sounds familiar. Likely a descriptor or a name assumed to already be known when he read the little information about dragons the East Branch had.
"Yes, of course. I am a progenitor of what the Witches and Wizards call Dark Dragons," The dragon states with a casual ease.
"Something similar to a Vasto Lorde then." Kisuke doesn't even twitch when the dragon crawls closer in Kurosaki'san's body.
"What is this woman? She is no normal human." The question takes Kisuke by surprise, not that he doesn't show it. "A human's soul cannot reattach itself to their corpse, and yet this Kurosaki-san did."
Kisuke pauses as his mind works in overdrive. How fascinating.
"Kurosaki-san is what we call a Quincy. Consider her another species of human. So, she truly did die by the Hollow?"
Red Dress leans back, somewhat bemused by this entire situation. Kisuke is too, but he won't show it physically. Not in front of a possible enemy.
"You speak of the thing that had attacked this woman's child. Yes, this Hollow gave her the finishing blow... but it was what happened before that which caused her death," The dragon answers, slowly raising a hand to press it against Kurosaki-san's heart.
"Her soul being ripped in half," Kisuke clarifies, making Red Dress hum. The dragon makes Kurosaki-san's eyes flicker to white before going back to slitted amber.
"Something stole her powers. It is not something I will ever wish to meet. She had named it Auswählen," Red Dress says with a slight hiss. Kisuke narrows his eyes. A being, more than likely at a similar power level as a Vasto Lorde, is wary of this "something"?
Kisuke pushes the information back. Now's not the time for that.
"Red Dress," Kisuke starts with a careful tone, "if you leave her body, will she live?"
"No." Kisuke can't help the twitch across his face. Red Dress smiles with all teeth, both seemingly frustrated and amused at the same time.
"Unfortunately for me, I had used up most of my energy to take over her corpse. I will not be able to leave this body for a long time." Red Dress holds out Kurosaki-san's hand with the palm facing upwards. "Fortunately for me, this is all so very intriguing to me. I'd like to stay."
Kisuke frowns, almost snarling. "Kurosaki-san is not a puppet for you. If she will not have control, then I will force you out of her right now."
Red Dress hums before chuckling quietly. The dragon tilts Kurosaki-san's head back, the frustration much more apparent.
"Unfortunately for you, even if you were capable of forcing me to leave this body, I don't think I would be able to. Fortunately for you, the only reason I am 'in control' as you put it is because this Kurosaki-san is still recuperating," Red Dress continues with a sneer. The frustration slips away and only the dragon's amusement remains. "You do not trust what I say. You are quite the paranoid one... puppet master."
"I haven't survived as long as I have, being anything less," Kisuke retorts with a sharp smile. His gut twists at being called puppet master, but he ignores it. He's committed to this and it's the only feasible way with as little casualties as possible.
"I have told you the name the Witches and Wizards call me. What do they call you?"
Kisuke stays quiet, watching the dragon inhabiting—or cohabiting—Kurosaki-san's body. This is an outlier and, unfortunately, it's clear he has to adjust his plans to involve these dragons more than he wished to. He has to involve Kurosaki-san. Isshin is going to be so insufferably upset with him, if his wife doesn't fucking murder him and mutilate his corpse first.
"Urahara Kisuke."
There have been many, many times Masaki had woken up from complete unconsciousness after being attacked or severely injured. While she hasn't prioritized being a Quincy since high school, she's still more than a bit reckless in her fights when she does. It doesn't come from inexperience or the gradual loss of skill from inactivity; it's simply how she fights. When everyone else was fighting from afar, she was directly in front, dancing with death—quite literally.
She was so much more skilled with Blut and Blut Vene than anything else she had ever been taught or forced to learn. So, Masaki needed to be up close for either to work successfully. Unfortunately—excluding the only time she had ever been truly directly injured by a Hollow; the one she saved her husband from—when getting thrown and slammed through concrete buildings, people tend to go unconscious for extended periods of time even with Blut Vene activated.
Masaki can't even begin to count the amount of times she's woken up feeling like she got hit by a train—only three times she can recall at the moment she had been hit by a train, literally. She doesn't have a ranking for the worse times she has woken up feeling, but if she did, this fucking tops it.
It didn't feel like she got hit by a train. It felt like she fell out of a plane without a parachute and slammed onto the ground with enough force to break and shatter every single bone in her body. And she has fallen out of a plane before and hit the ground, resulting in only a broken collarbone, thankfully.
Her head felt like it was literally split in two and she has half a mind to check if her back is actually on fire or if it's just the agony she's currently in. Her legs are almost painfully stiff in pins and needles, but at least she can feel them.
Feel them? Why wouldn't she feel them? Why was she unconscious in the first place? What happened? She—everything—what happened? There was the Hollow attack, but—
"—chi—" Masaki gasps for air, her eyes snapping open. She bolts up from where she was laying, only to cry out as her back spasms in agony, collapsing to the ground.
The Hollow attack. The Hollow is attacking her son. Auswählen. Her son. Oh Gods—
Masaki claws at the floor, gagging from the pain. She doesn't notice how her nails slice through the old wooden floorboards. A warm liquid wells up in the back of her throat and she can't help, but cough it up. Purple liquid spills out from her lips. Masaki curls over herself with another gag when something crawls up her spine.
Be calm. You aren't quite ready to be awake just yet.
Everything was too bright even if it was blurry. Colors danced in her eyes and made her gag even more. The floorboards creaked as if the sound was amplified by a microphone. It made her ears ring. Yet the voice didn't.
Ichigo—she has to find Ichigo. She has to save Ichigo. Ichigo, Ichigo, Ichigo, Ichigo, Ichigo—
Something slides across the ground and it makes Masaki sob in pain. "—saki-san! Kurosaki-san!"
There's a breeze down Masaki's arm and it makes her flinch away, falling on her side. She gasps as something grabs her arm, practically sending electric shocks up her arm.
"Kurosaki-san," The voice speaks again, clawing against Masaki's raw nerves. She continues to sob, but reaches over to grab whatever was still touching her arm. She holds onto it tightly, lifting her head with a gasp.
It was Urahara, but his eyes were practically glowing silver. It made her eyes hurt. Masaki still sobs in relief, falling forward to hug the shopkeeper.
"Made it. I made it. Ichigo. He's safe. He's safe. I made it." Masaki tries to speak through her agony and her sobs, tries to tell Urahara how grateful she is.
Urahara sat on the floor, completely frozen stiff. His free hand hovers in the air while Masaki continues to cry her eyes out. She lifts her head back up, much too delirious to understand what's going on around her.
"—chi—" Masaki presses a hand to her mouth as she coughs up more purple liquid. She almost collapses on her side, but Urahara wraps an arm around her shoulders to keep her balanced.
"Everything is okay Kurosaki-san. You're going to be okay," Urahara reassures the auburn-haired woman for the wrong reasons. Masaki shakes her head and grabs the exiled Shinigami's haori with a tear-filled gaze.
"–chi–go—I–chi–go—Ichi—" Masaki gasps her son's name, desperate for Urahara to understand what she's trying to say, what she's trying to ask.
Urahara blinks before a calm smile forms on his face. "He is going to be okay. He's sleeping. You should sleep too, Kurosaki-san."
Masaki frantically shakes her head. She turns her head, searching the room for her son. When she doesn't see him, she goes to stand up.
Her son. She has to see her son. She needs to see her son. Auswählen. He has to be okay. He has to be okay. He has to be okay.
"You are so obstinate..." Masaki doesn't hear Urahara's muttering. Urahara wraps his arms underneath the woman's shoulders and knees before easily lifting her up.
Masaki releases a whimpering cry when her back spasms, though she instinctively wraps an arm around Urahara's neck so she wouldn't fall. Everything becomes a blur of brown, white, and way too much brightness. Masaki had her eyes practically rolling in the back of her head before she smothered her face into Urahara's shoulder.
"It will take some getting used to... but that will be for after you rest," Urahara speaks softly, taking Masaki's clinginess with amazing stride. "After all... you did die, Kurosaki-san."
Masaki wails at the statement, remembering the bits and pieces of Auswählen and that damned Hollow.
She died. She died. Her soul had been ripped; torn in half. And... she had died. She died in front of her son—her child. Oh Gods, and the twins. They must be terrified! And Isshin. Oh, that sweet fool must be so heartbroken. But. But, she must see Ichigo. She needs to see him first.
He wasn't breathing. That's right. He wasn't—he wasn't breathing and Masaki had to get him to Urahara. And–and his soul. Oh Gods, she could tell. He was going through a Soul Suicide. Oh Gods, she needs to see him. She needs to see her son. He has to be okay. He has to be!
Masaki whimpers when another door is slid open. Urahara takes a single step into the room and—
Masaki snaps her head up. Petrichor during a moonless night. Ichigo.
The woman nearly claws Urahara's face off in her attempt to get out of his arms. A wail leaves her lips as she stretches out her arms towards her son.
And there he is. Unconscious, but breathing. He's breathing. Oh Gods, he's breathing! He's alive and not—and his soul. He isn't going through Soul Suicide. He isn't... he isn't dying. He's breathing. He's alive.
Urahara hisses out a curse when Masaki kicks him in the stomach, loosening his hold just enough for her to fall out of his arms. Masaki slams on one of her knees with a loud, and extremely painful, thud before trying to rush to her son's side. She collapses to the ground with a cry of pain, stars dancing in her vision.
Such stubbornness. Fine.
Masaki whines when something impales her back. Or... it—something pierces out? Her eyesight starts to go in and out as two black as night wings flail around her. She flinches when the wings touch the floorboards, feeling the old wood scrape against them like they were hers.
Masaki slowly sits up, so very weak and delirious. The wings help her keep herself from collapsing back to the ground. She crawls forward on her hands and knees now that she won't collapse every time she tries to move.
Tears roll down Masaki's pale face as she looks down at her son. His skin is flushed from a fever, yet he breathes normally, and there's a bruise around his neck. He's alive. He's alive and he's healing.
"You... your... You are—you are going to be okay..." Masaki whispers brokenly, running her fingers through his hair. Her son will be okay. They will be okay.
Masaki falls unconscious, curled around her son with her new appendages wrapped tightly around them both. They are all going to be okay.
After nearly a month of healing, life for the Kurosaki family won't ever go back to what it once was... but that didn't mean it was bad. Simply a new normal. Probably a better normal.
Masaki had nearly mutilated Urahara when she had found out what he did to save Ichigo... and what he was betting her child's life for. She took care of Isshin though, and he better learn his lesson or Masaki won't hesitate to make sure he skips Soul Society and goes straight to being reborn.
Using her son as a trump card? Using her son as a weapon?! Oh, no. No, no, no. Masaki would have to cease to exist for that to happen. Unfortunately—so very unfortunate for the stupid men playing with her son"s life—Auswählen hasn't given her any choice, but to follow along; this time being involved.
They must prepare. For this war of secrets Urahara and some man named Aizen are in, and for him. Masaki told them the tales when she was coherent enough to explain what had happened.
She had hoped it wouldn't happen during her children's lifetime. Masaki had been born during an endless war against Hollows. She didn't want her children to be the same.
Isshin still thinks they have time, but he's only brushing off the problem. He is strong. The old rumors... Masaki doesn't want to risk anything. She refuses to take the risk of letting down her guard. Thankfully, he was quick to convince with the surprising help of Urahara.
Though, during this new phase for her and her family, Masaki did not expect to gain another child.
She had gone to visit the Ishidas. While they never visited each other, Masaki and Kanae were good friends and talked on the phone daily. It was always dangerous for the Ishidas to make contact with other Quincy.
Masaki hadn't received a single text in almost a month. She refuses to ignore her intuition anymore and heads to the Manor with dread making her almost physically ill and tears in her eyes.
She stares up at the looming silhouette of the Ishida Manor. A lifeless garden, cold walls, and the constant feeling of being ostracized by her own people.
"Mama?" Ichigo's voice is small in his exhaustion. He was much too young to be dealing with the effects of all parts of his soul being awakened, but there hadn't been a choice. Masaki had been hoping the exhaustion would get better as his soul settles in its new form, but she has a feeling the exhaustion is from a bigger problem.
The auburn-haired woman purrs from the back of her throat and smiles down at her son. "Would you like to stay in the car and take a nap?"
Ichigo shakes his head before pressing it against Masaki's side. He purrs quietly before tilting his head back, his gold eyes partially glowing. Egeon had wrapped himself around Ichigo's neck since he woke up and hasn't left since.
"'m okay," He mutters quietly, making Masaki smile softly. She cards her fingers through his hair before facing the house where she had some of the darkest years of her life. Masaki takes a deep breath and steps forward with her hand holding Ichigo's.
It didn't take them long to reach the front door, and Masaki doesn't know if it's better or worse. Ichigo squeezes her hand and she doesn't know if it's to seek comfort or to give Masaki comfort. Masaki squeezes back, nonetheless, before she reaches up with her free hand and knocks on the door.
No one answers and it makes Masaki want to cry. Did they all die? Did little Uryū, her nephew that she has only met a few times, die? Had Ryūken—because they were both dead?
"Please... I don't want to be alone," Masaki pleads with a stuttering breath. She slowly raises her hand again, about to knock one more time, when the door creaks open.
DESPAIR
Masaki can't help the gasp that leaves her mouth. There stood a little boy, the same age as her little boy, with lifeless eyes instead of the deep ocean blue Masaki knows he took after his mother. His skin looked almost blue in its pallor and he looked... well, he looked dead.
"Oh, Uryū!" Masaki cries out softly as she crouches down. She reaches out and gently grabs Uryū's face. He was freezing to the touch and he didn't even flinch at an apparent stranger grabbing his face.
"...stop... won't stop... he... stop... please..." His lips barely move, but Masaki could hear him as clear as day. She can hear his utter despair. She can hear his shock, and his failing mental well-being. She can hear his disbelief, his anger, his fury.
Masaki breathes in deeply and freezes at the lingering scent of blood and sterile air. She leans closer and brushes backUryū's hair to feel his forehead. He's absolutely freezing. He's in actual shock.
Masaki leans forward and presses a kiss against Uryū's forehead before she stands up. "Ichigo, take care ofUryū. I need to have a talk with Ryūken."
Masaki steps into the atrium of the manor she had no choice, but to spend the rest of her teenage years in. She turns to the right, where Ryūken has his oh so secret laboratory, and begins her march. There is only one place in Ryūken's laboratory that smells of blood and still smells sterile. The room he performs autopsies in.
This place feels... weird. Ichigo couldn't put his finger on it. Everything felt... cold. Lifeless. Yet, it didn't feel like anything. Ichigo runs his hand over Egeon's head before glancing over at the boy Mom has asked him to take care of. They were still in the front doorway.
Egeon rumbles quietly before lifting his head. Ichigo steps forward while untangling Egeon from his neck.
"You probably can't see 'im, but he'll keep you warm," Ichigo speaks softly before he rests the knucker dragon over the boy's shoulders. The boy doesn't even blink at the new weight, still so lifeless to the world. Egeon rumbles before wrapping around the boy's neck and shoulders, purring into his neck.
Ichigo smiles through his exhaustion as he watches the boy slowly bring his hands up to the dragon. He blinks slowly before his hands curl around the dragon he most likely cannot see. Tears slowly fall from ocean blue eyes and it makes something inside Ichigo want to scream. Ichigo can't swallow the growl that escapes his throat and his fingers curl into claws.
PROTECTPROTECTPROTECTPROTECTPROTECTPROTECT.
Protect. He has to protect him. He is family. So, Ichigo has to protect. He won't let him get hurt again. He'll kill anyone who hurts him again. Protect. He has to protect.
There's a purr in his head, yet Ichigo doesn't register it. Petrichor and blood surround him like the darkness on a moonless night, proud and possessive.
Ichigo clears his throat when a snarl leaves his mouth instead of words. He steps forward and pulls the boy into his arms, hugging him tightly. "It's okay. Mama will protect you. I will protect you. No one'll hurt you while I'm here... promise."
The laboratory is nearly pitch black. There was only one light on, shining down on the mutilated corpse of Ishida Kanae, still cut and pulled open like some kind of mockery of a flower.
There's a screech and a loud crash before blood splatters across an entire wall. Large black wings explode out and encompass nearly the entire space of the laboratory as talons hold a stuttering neck, piercing through the skin.
"...how dare you? How fucking dare you?" The hiss is low and dark. Masaki glares down into wide blue eyes. Masaki tightens her grip around Ishida Ryūken's neck, making blood spill form the punctures. She opens her mouth, fangs protruding past her lips.
"She is your wife! She is your wife and you–you've cut her open. You cut her open and forced your son, Kanae's only child, to watch!" Masaki screeches in pain, in grief, and in fury.
Ishida Ryūken; her friend, her brother. The man who walked her down the aisle, the man who asked Masaki first to be the godmother of his son. Ishida Ryūken, the man who cared and loved Kanae so deeply, cut open his own wife and forced his son to watch.
"Ma–sa–ki—" Masaki screams and lifts the stupid and foolish man below her before slamming him back against the floor, creating cracks in the cement. Ryūken winces in pain, feeling more than a few of his ribs crack at the force.
Masaki hisses loudly and leans closer, nearly inches away from Ryūken's face. "I am taking him—I am taking Uryū with me and you will not even contact him until he is ready. Do you understand me, Ryūken?"
Ryūken stares up into completely white eyes, almost terrified of the woman—no, this creature looming over him. He closes his eyes, defeated and in grief, and nods his head. Masaki snarls with a guttural growl before she jumps back and flashes out of the laboratory with a beat of her wings.
She lands in the hallway, immediately starting her march back towards the entrance as her wings go back to hiding beneath her skin. Masaki slowly breathes out, releasing a small stream of smoke before tears start to fall down her cheeks.
"Oh, Kanae..." Masaki tilts her head back, rubbing her face. She hugs herself and sobs quietly, crouching where she stood.
She should have come by earlier. She should have had Isshin take her here in a wheelchair. Ryūken. Kanae. Uryū. Oh, poor Uryū...
Masaki sniffs and rubs her eyes before breathing in deeply. She holds her breath for a few seconds before slowly releasing it.
You do not like death, yet you are surrounded by it.
Masaki chuckles wetly at Red Dress's comment, standing up from her crouch. She rubs her face with a sigh and starts to walk.
She reaches the front door and smiles softly at the sight she sees. Ichigo and Uryū were completely passed out in the open doorway, soaking in the warm sunlight. Egeon had managed to curl himself around both of their necks and Ichigo had decided to octopus hug Uryū.
"The Kurosaki are special that way," Masaki answers Red Dress with a wry smile before she leans down to kiss her sons' foreheads. She picks up the two boys and walks out of the lifeless manor without a word or even a glance back when she feels someone watching her.
The Kurosaki are special in every way. It's why they were cursed in the first place, but that just made them even more special. After all, what kinds of human beings are capable of turning a curse meant to eradicate them into a weapon against those not meant to die?
Hey! Hope you all like the new chapter! I hope the ending isn't as rushed as I think it is, but I really tried! Anyways, I am trying to get chapters out more frequently, but work is. So. Busy. Like, I know I keep saying that, but anytime I think I have time to write, something happens and I just want to cry.
Side note, I turned 21!!!!!!! Woo! I'm so old now!
Next chapter: we will officially be finished with the background past! Woo! And, Ichigo and Uryū as brothers??????? Who would have guessed?! Me. Because I wrote it.
I hope you all are enjoying the story so far! Bye.
WhovianWhoudini