Author's Note: Hope you enjoy this update! This chapter is the last one that takes place within the first 24 hours of Ichigo's capture, and starts to set up the ongoing plotlines for the next few chapters. Once the setup is done, the writer can play...

I have also hidden a very obscure reference to The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time in this chapter, if anyone can guess what it is you will earn my respect as a fellow Zelda fan.

Chapter Four

Serenity Never

Uryū Ishida missed the doorway altogether and walked into the wall next to it instead.

The worst part of it was, he didn't immediately register what he'd done wrong, the sensory indicators of his sore nose and the snickering of Jinta trickling in slowly and giving him a good long amount of time to be humiliated as he put the pieces of his most recent folly together.

In his defense, Uryū was running on approximately ninety minutes of sleep and four cups of Kisuke Urahara's extra-strength coffee and had just ploughed through an entire school day only to walk halfway across town to the Shōten. His batteries were in the red and no matter how much he tried to push on, the effects were making themselves known.

Ignoring Jinta's continual hoots of laughter at his expense, Uryū readjusted himself and aimed for the doorway this time, making it and padding softly into the room beyond.

The immediate impression was that Kisuke had done nothing to clean it since the previous night, the smell of blood and his crab snacks still heavy and cloying in the air. Their sources hadn't been cleared out either, bloodstains and crumpled packets littering the floor and the latter crunching under his feet as he made his way to the figure lying still on the futon in the very corner of the room.

While he was no longer quite as broken as he had been, thanks largely to Orihime's Shunshunrikka and less to Kisuke's sketchy healing kido, little effort had been made to hide the remnants of the previous night's injuries. The green and yellow ghosts of bruises still covered his body, clashing with bloodstains and half-healed injuries. His chest was exposed, revealing the haphazardly made brace strapped to one side of his ribcage keeping the broken bones in place while they finished healing.

Uryū heaved himself down on the floor next to Ichigo with a sigh, unsure if he had the energy to get back up again.

Usually, a sigh like that would have elicited a smart remark from Ichigo, probably either about Uryū being 'an old man carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders' or 'sleepyhead Quincy.' He braced himself for the comment, and when it didn't come felt disappointment and loneliness settle like a mantle over his shoulders.

Desperate for some reassurance and familiarity, he reached out to hold Ichigo's hand like he always did, hoping for at least the tiniest spark of life to meet his touch.

When Uryū took his left hand in his own, though, the stark difference to its usual state was jarring. His hands were usually so warm and full of life, in both spirit and flesh; now they were icy cold. He ran his fingers along the callouses that he was so familiar with, the small ridges of scars that he'd mapped dozens of times at night on the couch while they sat together watching their favourite shows, Ichigo's head resting lazily on his shoulder. He knew every ridge, line, and bump almost as well as he knew his own after so long, and they were all still there exactly where they always were.

But when he'd mapped them all those times, Ichigo's hand had been warm and thrumming with life and energy. Now it was cold to the touch, with only the faintest pulse throbbing between his fingers. It felt more like a wilty carrot recently taken out of the crisper than his hand.

Uryū ran his fingers over Ichigo's fingertips, nails jagged and flush with the skin. It was a little habit he had, one that he really ought to have stopped when he was a kid, but just let keep on going to such a point that he now did it absentmindedly. They'd be sitting, whether in class or together at home, and Ichigo's hands would twist around to rip his longest fingernails off. He did it most when he was confiding in Uryū, usually about an unpleasant exchange with his father, and as much as finding little shards of fingernails in his bedsheets the next day annoyed him to no end, it was also somewhat endearing. A silly little quirk, but also another square in the quilt that was Ichigo Kurosaki, and the fact that his lifeless body still carried its hallmarks brought a lump into Uryū's throat.

He let the limp, cold hand slide out of his grasp, shifting around to avoid accidentally picking it up again.

Instead, he gently brushed the ginger fringe out of his face, still webbed in the remnants of grotesque bruises from his beating the previous night.

"Stop messing around and come back soon, Ichigo." His voice was quiet and he tried to ignore how it cracked when he said his name. "You hear me? Whatever foolhardy thing you're doing, you're going to stop and come home."

Of course, he didn't answer, but Uryū could hear his snarky comeback so clearly in his mind anyway that he turned around, hoping to see Ichigo standing in the doorway in his shihakusho with Zangetsu looming white on his back, ready to tease Uryū for being so concerned.

A sinking feeling flooded every inch of Uryū's body when he wasn't there, the room as empty as it had been since he'd entered. Almost without thinking he lowered his head over Ichigo's, weighed down by sadness as he brushed his lips over his forehead in a gentle kiss.

Ichigo's forehead still tasted faintly of blood, and the ever-familiar tang of hairspray, as Uryū's lips brushed over the still-swollen skin. The contact brought him more melancholy than it did comfort.

The quiet sliding open of the door was an indicator that they were no longer alone. Uncomfortable with anyone else seeing his display of affection, Uryū straightened up to meet Kisuke's grim eyes, his hand quietly finding Ichigo's again almost without thinking.

"Do you have any news from Soul Society?"

"They've ordered everyone off the case. Isn't that something? An underage kid goes missing, presumably at the hands of a former captain, and they sit back on their asses and let it simmer."

Uryū felt rage boil up inside him at the news. Soul reapers! They never cared for anyone but themselves, more than willing to throw their own under the bus if they fell out of favour. Ichigo was too good for them.

He realized that in his anger he was crushing Ichigo's hand, and let it slide through his fingers. Angry tears pricked the corners of his eyes, but he blinked them back with ferocity.

Ichigo Kurosaki was the only living person who had seen Uryū Ishida cry, and he intended on keeping it that way.

"So they're just letting Aizen get away with it." Uryū could hear how empty his voice sounded.

"It seems so. I'd like to see if I can find a way around it, but they've put the precipice world on lockdown so no one can get in or out. Rukia went back to report the whole mess this morning, Yoruichi following to do some reconaissance, and they've been locked in. I'm not sure if I'll be able to find a way into the World of Hollows—Hueco Mundo, I think they call it—with the seal still in place either. Aizen seems to have closed everything off on his end again as well."

"So we can't do anything?"

"I'm afraid not. We've all scoured Karakura and the surrounding area for even a trace of his spiritual pressure and come up empty. Since the Arrancars retreated so quickly last night, it stands to reason they took him with them. The Gotei is apparently preparing for an inevitable invasion from Aizen, and said as much that they don't care about what Ichigo's fate may be."

The idea of Ichigo, kind Ichigo being in the grasp of not just Soul Reapers, but traitor Soul Reapers make Uryū sick to his stomach. Unbidden, the images that Mayuri Kurotsuchi had shown him of his grandfather with a gleeful smile on his face drifted through his mind's eye. When his stomach twisted at the memory of just what Soul Reapers were capable of if they had motivation enough, he tried to push them down; unfortunately the act of doing so only made the images more eager to upset him.

"You're saying that we should just leave it and wait for them to drop Ichigo back on our doorstep unharmed? Do you realize how stupid that sounds?"

"I do. But with the Dangai closed and Hueco Mundo seemingly shut in, our hands are tied. I know you're anxious to have him back," he added at Uryū's outraged expression, "but there really isn't much else we can do aside from keeping ourselves alert and in good shape for when the opportunity to raid Hueco Mundo does present itself."

Kisuke got up and began to leave, but stopped and sent one last piece of advice over his shoulder.

"Oh, and Uryū? Make sure you get some rest. You'll be no good to Ichigo if Hueco Mundo opens back up again and you're too sleep deprived to storm in there and rescue him."

"Ichigo doesn't need a white knight."

"He may not, but you want to be one for him, don't you?"

Uryū couldn't deny Kisuke's words, letting him leave the room in silence.

To Ichigo,

You might never read this. That's what my inner cynicist—the realist, even—tells me. It doesn't stop me from hoping you will, when we find your spirit and you wake up.

But I'm not kidding myself. This letter is more for me than you, because I have too many emotions to process right now and no one to process them with.

The Gotei have ordered a complete shutdown of the Dangai. That's it. No in or out. Rukia and

Yoruichi left this morning once your body was stabilized, and they can't come back. Worse, Urahara tells me that Aizen's done the same to the World of the Hollows, whatever it's called. That's where the Arrancars took you, right? I have no way of knowing for sure, but I haven't felt your spiritual pressure anywhere around Karakura all day. I was searching. I skipped lunch to look.

They've also issued an order that we're to stop looking for you, in conjunction with locking us all in the world of the living. They don't care whatever happened to you. They say it's irrelevant to the big picture and in a war we can expect casualties. And maybe they're right, but it's not the first time they've let someone I love be taken from me and simply thumbed their noses in response every time I asked them for help getting them back. I think it's understandable for me to be harbouring some contempt towards them.

I'm going to ask Urahara to see if he can open a Garganta, so I can come looking for you as soon as we're able to. I know it had to be the Arrancars that took you. I don't know the full extent of what Aizen is capable of, but you told me enough from your time with the Vizards. You are not safe. (But you probably already know that, if you're actually reading this.)

We're all worried for you. Your sisters don't know what's happened yet, but it's only a matter of time, especially because I think they're moving your body to the clinic as soon as it's safe to do so. I'm surprised to see such affection from the Goatface, but I guess him seeing your body today really cemented the danger you're in. I know it probably doesn't mean that much considering you're surrounded by hollows right now, but I don't think he really wants to see you dead. He came by while I was still in school, but Urahara told me that he was really put off-balance.

Stop messing around and come home, Ichigo. You hear me? I want to see you on my doorstep again this time tomorrow, looking like the pathetic rag of a soul reaper you are and begging me for tea.

Because if you don't, I don't know what I'll do.

- Uryū

Uryū set his pen down, glancing over the smear of ink running along the side of his right hand from where he'd rested it against the paper, forgotten in his haste to get the words out. It was more tanned than he'd been in in years, Ichigo's influence dragging him headlong out of the house into the sunlight. He'd always teased him that he would become a vampire if he wasn't careful, that sunlight and fresh air were good for him with the unquenchable zest he always had around those he cared about, forcing them to be kind to themselves. It had worked, though; for all his grousing and snarking to the contrary, Uryū really couldn't say no to Ichigo when he got like that. They'd spent every spare moment they could find over the summer outside, going for walks and even (on Ichigo's suggestion that Uryū once again couldn't deny him) a few picnic lunches. Uryū had discovered that the idyllic life wasn't all that bad, when you were sharing it with someone. There had been one time in particular where the two had snuck outside at sunset, finding a secluded place outside town to lay back and watch the stars together. Despite his (admittedly half-hearted) protests, Ichigo had cuddled up to Uryū's side like an overaffectionate puppy, happily pointing when a shooting star streaked across the sky.

A smile fell across Uryū's face at the memory. Ichigo put on a tough façade, but the more layers you peeled back you quickly discovered a soft and sensitive individual who had been put through far too much for how young he still was. They both were—likely the reason why they drew each other like magnets. Getting to know Ichigo had made Uryū feel for the first time in a very long while that someone understood him. He couldn't lose that now, not when he'd discovered how good it felt.

"Come back, you idiot," he whispered, closing the journal quietly shut and wiping the single tear that had fallen off his cheek.

𝄪Hueco Mundo (Present Day)𝄪

Ichigo didn't remember falling asleep, but he must have; because he woke up.

At first, his eyes still closed, he assumed he was lying in his bed above the clinic, sleep lag delaying the memories of the previous night from conscious thought and letting habits take over.

He only started to question things when sensory cues started trickling back as he woke up further, telling him he was lying on his side on a cold floor—

—naked?

In a sudden rush of confusion his eyes fluttered open for the first time, staring at a dimly lit white floor marching off into the horizon, its exact line distorted and doubled from the differing feedback of his two eyes. Floating at the very top of his vision were several tufts of light red hair, the only colour in an otherwise blank landscape.

And all at once, the memories from the previous day came flooding back. Ulquiorra cornering him, his threat, waking up in the world of hollows, the sadistic grin on the pink Arrancar's face as he examined him, Aizen.

Sosuke bloody Aizen, telling Ichigo that he belonged to him.

The amount of disgust those words filled him with was astonishing, especially now that they were no longer face-to-face and he was no longer quite so terrified. The dust had settled into revulsion.

Before he could rouse himself into too much of a fury, however, more details of his current state crept their way into his mind. He was in his spirit body, which would be fine enough, but his spirit energy was coiled tightly inside him and for some reason badly damaged, not nearly as robust as he'd grown accustomed to.

And then the final realization came crashing down, stealing the breath out of his chest as the memory came to him.

Zangetsu was gone.

Desperate, Ichigo closed his eyes again, casting his thoughts inward in hopes of any sign of a response from either one of his spirits, but all he heard was an indistinct muttering that refused to materialize.

This didn't dissuade Ichigo from continuing to try, though, despair only increasing with each failed attempt. He only stopped when the door of the cell he was in opened with a click, increasing the light level but not adding any colour in the process.

"Get up, Tamashii. Lord Aizen has requested your presence."

The bored voice of Ulquiorra echoed through the featureless room.

"I'm tired."

"I do not care. And neither does Lord Aizen." The tone of his voice invited no argument. "I will give you five minutes to get dressed, and then I will accompany you to the throne room."

It wasn't a question. A soft thump of cloth resounded behind him, and Ichigo figured that for the time being his best option would be to play along, and save his fight for a more opportune time. He was severely weakened and Ulquiorra's display of strength from the day prior was clear in his mind, telling him that resisting would likely not fare well.

Ichigo was many things, but he at least tried to avoid being foolhardy.

So he rolled over, staring blankly at the equally featureless ceiling until Ulquiorra's tapping sandal started reverberating through the whole cell, which finally prompted him to pull himself upright.

There was nothing new to see from this angle. The room was blank white and devoid of any signifiers whatsoever. Giving up on finding anything even remotely of interest, Ichigo instead gave in and got fully up, craning his neck to see wherever the clothes Ulquiorra had dropped off were.

Folded neatly was a pile of white cloth, sitting seemingly innocuously next to a jet-black sandal. Ichigo traced his gaze upwards from the sandal, following a smartly cut white outfit up to the disinterested face of the Arrancar, staring directly at Ichigo with his green eyes like it was all a perfectly normal situation.

"What are you staring at?"

"Put your clothes on, Tamashii."

"My name's not Tamashii!"

"Put your clothes on."

Still fuming, Ichigo tried to ignore how the Arrancar kept staring at him and reached for the clothing, which turned out to be more or less the exact same as a Soul Reaper's shihakusho, simply in reversed colours. It didn't take long to pull up the white hakama, surprisingly soft and offering at least a little bit of relief from the scorching green stare. It was silly; Ichigo knew that there was really nothing to see on his spirit form (aside from the one scar down his midsection from Aizen's own blade) and that it was highly unlikely Ulquiorra had any sort of ulterior thoughts, but habit formed of years of hiding himself in his clothing was not easily unlearned.

No sooner had he tied the ink-black sash in a loose knot around his waist than Ulquiorra made his way towards his prisoner in a single concise stride, grabbing his wrist still encased in sekkiseki and dragging him towards the door.

Ichigo forced his mouth shut and walked quickly along behind him.

Las Noches was such a labyrinthine mess of hallways and doors that Ichigo knew he would never remember the path Ulquiorra was using to take him to the throne room, each turn slipping out of his mind as soon as they took the next. Before long they arrived in the throne room, as soulless and cold as it had been the night before. Aizen was sitting proudly at the top, nodding approvingly as they entered the room.

"Good morning, Ibara Tamashii."

His voice was cool, speaking like a man who held the world around him in the palm of his hand and knew it.

"Did you have a nice sleep?"

The emotions that he had been struggling with since his capture started to rise again, bubbling up and reaching a boiling point at which they broke free, defiance filling his body.

"My…name…is…Ichigo…Kurosaki," he snarled, trying to shake his hand free from Ulquiorra's vise grip and failing.

"I'm afraid you must be feeling a bit delirious, Tamashii. Are you perhaps running a bit low on sleep?"

"My name isn't Tamashii! It's Ichigo Kurosaki!" He still wasn't able to break Ulquiorra's grip, but he did lunge forward and spit at the foot of Aizen's throne in defiance.

Aizen didn't make a move to get up, simply clucking his tongue at the feeble act of rebellion. "My, my, Tamashii. Such rudeness. You're forgetting yourself. Such behaviour—towards your Lord Aizen, no less—is thoroughly unbecoming of a future Espada. I expect you to curb such behaviour in the future. Ibara Tamashii."

Being addressed so matter-of-factly, like he really was this—this Ibara Tamashii Arrancar that Aizen wanted him to be, was the absolute breaking point.

"My—name—is—Ichigo—Kurosaki!" His voice rose to a verifiable scream, ripping his throat on the way out, carrying as much hatred as he could possibly muster and flinging it at Aizen's face with the force of a Getsuga Tenshō, hoping desperately with every fibre of his being that at least some of it would land.

The fury of all furies, Aizen kept looking at his prisoner, face impassive and unchanged. After a few seconds that seemed to stretch on into the void, he spoke two words, softly with an assured arrogance.

"Three strikes."

Before Ichigo could even recognize what was happening, still drained from his outburst and stunned by its seeming lack of effect, Aizen's finger was pointed in his direction and his target had neither the time nor the energy to dodge.

"Hado number four. Byakurai."

The white lightning arced through the air straight and true, lancing straight into Ichigo's midsection and melting its immediate surroundings with instant pain. It brought back memories of Sogyoku Hill, but there he had agency, spiritual pressure, the ability to fight back. Now he simply doubled over like a pathetic ragdoll, free hand clutching the point of impact. It throbbed.

"I cut you a small amount of slack today, considering you are new with us, Ibara."

Ichigo couldn't muster up the spirit within him to retort back, not when the leftover remnants of the kido were still pulsing through his midsection.

"However, I will not be so lenient with you for long. I urge you to remember that you are under my dominion and are expected to play by my rules. Such…crude shows of insubordinance will not be tolerated. And the next time your punishment may be worse than low-level kido. Am I clear, Ibara? Do you understand me?"

Ulquiorra suddenly enacted a great deal of pressure on Ichigo's left wrist, squeezing the bones together.

He was still panting and slightly winded from the strike, never realizing just how vital his spiritual pressure had been to his well-being.

"Yes." The single word killed him, like an admission of weakness.

"Yes what?"

If the first answer had killed Ichigo, the second was kicking his corpse.

"Yes, Aizen."

Aizen clicked his tongue in disapproval. "Tut, tut. Not quite as fervent as I'd have hoped, but we have time. It will do for now. Now!" He clapped his hands to punctuate the changing of topics. "What I called you here for. I told you that I couldn't have you using such a weak zanpakuto. This one will suit you far better."

He reached next to his throne and pulled out a perfectly unremarkable Shin'ō academy standard-issue zanpakuto, plain and unawakened with a red-wrapped hilt and blue sheath.

"See? This is far more fitting. Ulquiorra, let Ibara come up and take it."

Suddenly the suffocating grip on his left wrist fell away, and Ichigo took a tentative step forward, still unbalanced from taking kido straight to the gut.

Even though he knew it would likely be futile to use it in any sort of escape plan, the thought of having a zanpakuto in his hands again made his heart sing with joy and anticipation. It had only been one night, but Zangetsu's silence was deafening. He wanted him back again, desperately. He didn't even care that to take it would be falling right into place in Aizen's plans.

He wanted to hear Zangetsu's voice again.

The hilt was cold in his hands, lacking the telltale buzzing of an awakened zanpakuto he had grown to recognize. He supposed that was probably because it was just a blank, untouched by himself or Zangetsu's power; but he would be lying if he didn't find it a bit unnerving and more than a little disheartening. Of course Zangetsu wouldn't respond the instant he touched another sword, but the disappointment was still very tangible.

He took the sword and scabbard from Aizen gently, lifting the thick cording and tying it around his waist, just above the black sash. The weight on the side of his hip was unfamiliar, but comforting. A bit of power back in his favour after the balance shifting so severely in Aizen's direction.

Speak of the devil, he had more to say.

"Now that you're rested, I believe it's time to finish debriefing you on the current situation."

Ichigo just stood there, waiting for the bad news. It did not tarry.

"As I expect you've already noticed, I've bound your spirit energy with that bracelet you wear made of sekkiseki rock. I will permit you to remove it only during training sessions for the time being, as I do not yet trust you to wield your powers freely within the halls of Las Noches. Do you understand?"

The point of impact of Aizen's previous kido still stung, so Ichigo simply nodded. However, this apparently wasn't obedient enough.

"I'm afraid I didn't catch your answer. Ibara, I asked if you understood what I am telling you."

"Yes," Ichigo said through gritted teeth. If he was looking for a 'Lord Aizen' from him, it would take a lot more than some low-level kido for him to get it.

"Much better. Let me continue: taking further measures to ensure your easy containment, last night I injected you with a useful little concoction that myself and the Eighth Espada Szayelaporro came up with. Its intent was to half your spirit energy, and seems to have done so to great effect. At the moment, I would say you're roughly on par with, I don't know, a fourth or fifth seat of one of the Gotei 13. You will get your power back eventually—which brings me to the final point I wished to discuss today. You claimed last night that you are not an Arrancar. At the moment this is true enough, but once I have polished you to a perfect shine I intend to subject you to the Hogyoku and transform you into the Arrancar you were always supposed to be. Then—and only then—will you receive the full might of your power again."

Not seeming to care about the severity of the announcement he just made, Aizen simply waved his hand at the end of his speech. "Ibara, you are dismissed. Ulquiorra, take him to a training room."

Dread settled in the pit of Ichigo's stomach as Ulquiorra escorted him down another complicated tangle of hallways, grip as unyielding as ever. The zanpakuto was a strange weight at his side, rising and falling with each step he took.

The room they finally arrived in was as white as the rest of the place and only slightly bigger than his cell, but with one key difference: there was a narrow window running the length of the wall opposite the door, giving Ichigo his first view of the world Hollows called home.

An inky black sky extended upwards above the white spires of Las Noches, broken only by a pale glowing crescent moon hovering in its midst.

The sight was jarring to Ichigo, who had been operating under the assumption that it was late morning. He didn't know what exactly he'd expected to find, but a moonlit sky was not on the list.

"It's…nighttime?" He couldn't hide the confusion from his voice.

"It is always nighttime in Hueco Mundo," Ulquiorra said blandly, sounding slightly preturbed by the question.

"How do you know what time it is?" For a brief minute, he forgot his dire current situation and let a childlike curiosity at being in a different world from his own take over. Soul Society had been strange, but not like this.

"Hollows do not care what time it is, when their days consist of a hunt for survival." It almost sounded like something being read from a textbook, Ulquiorra's answer. "Now, if you wish, I can remove your bracelet and let you attempt to connect with your zanpakuto."

"Not the collar?"

"The collar plays no part in sealing away your powers, Tamashii. The others merely thought it would be…amusing to collar you like a pet." He sounded like he considered it a waste of time and effort.

Ichigo let his right arm fall after being freed from the cuff, still staring entranced at the eternal night out the window. A slight release in pressure told him that the Espada had slid it open, quickly confirmed by a rush of spiritual energy flowing to his fingertips. It was significantly less than he was accustomed to, like Aizen had told him it would be, but it was still such a comfort after the entire night deprived that he couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief.

The door clicked shut behind him, punctuated by the sliding of a bolt to ensure that Ichigo didn't try to make a break for it; a wise enough idea considering that he would have likely done so if the door wasn't locked.

The status was still better than it had been when he woke up, however. He was with half his usual power and locked in a relatively small room in a palace filled to the rafters with Arrancars, but his seal was temporarily lifted and he held a weapon in his hands, however weak it may have been.

Before he sat down to begin, however, Ichigo allowed himself a little more time to stare transfixed out the window. Past the first rows of Las Noches he could just make out the barren white desert, marching off into the horizon with little deviation except for a strange triangular shadow that seemed to flicker in and out of existence as the moonlight shifted. He blinked a few times, wondering if his eyes were simply playing tricks on him from the exhaustion, but it had no effect on it. Did hollows build pyramids and the like, or was it simply a triangular rock that caught the light in an odd way?

Giving up on trying to make heads or tails of this strange new world, Ichigo sat down cross-legged on the cold floor, his white hakama billowing out and the wooden sheath of his zanpakuto clacking against the hard surface. He drew the blade from its sheath, resting its plain unadorned length across his lap and closing his eyes as he took in its weight.

In a dizzying lurch that made him feel far more sick than normal, Ichigo found himself falling towards a sideways skyscraper in his inner world. He landed hard on his side, the impact rattling every single one of his bones.

It hurt more than it should have to get up, considering he was supposed to be in the confines of his own mind. There was a little bit of drizzle coming from the sky above, trickling down and splashing gently against his face.

A quick survey of his surroundings didn't reveal anything in particular of note, except the glaringly painful absence of two key players.

Ichigo held his head up to the clouds, trying to ignore how the droplets rolled across his face, and called out to Zangetsu.

There was no answer.

Author's Note: Thank you for reading! Please consider following/favouriting the fic if you enjoyed it so you can get updates when I post :)

The next chapter's title is 'At the Sign of Kurosaki Clinic.'