"Hey! It's my first time publishing something here. All feedback is welcome.
I will be updating every week, probably on Thursday.
Let me know if you enjoyed it or not.
No idea if this is really necessary, but Bleach belongs to Tite Kubo
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Arc 1
Chapter 1
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Ichigo stirred as warm breath tickled his cheek. His mind fought through the haze of sleep, and when awareness finally hit, he couldn't help but smile. It seemed his wife was feeling particularly bold this morning.
Her breath hovered close to his face, as if she was about to kiss him. He found it curious - Orihime had long since moved past such hesitation. Maybe she was trying not to wake him. Well, he was already awake, and he wasn't about to let this opportunity slip by.
Keeping his eyes closed to maintain the pretense of sleep, he reached for her waist. In one quick motion, he rolled over, trapping her underneath him.
"K-Kurosaki-kun!" she squeaked.
He grinned. These surprise attacks had become a familiar game in their ten years of marriage, almost like a private tradition between them. But something felt off about that name. Orihime had stopped calling him "Kurosaki-kun" not long after they'd started dating. Could she have slipped back into old habits? He pushed the thought aside - his sleepy mind was more focused on the fact that his wife had tried to catch him off guard, and now it was his turn to return the favor.
His lips found hers in a swift motion, his weight pinning her beneath him as his hands explored under her top, drawing shivers from her body. Though she stiffened at first, her resistance quickly faded. She never could maintain her guard around him.
Despite growing into a powerful warrior through countless battles, something about Ichigo still reduced Orihime to that shy schoolgirl who would hide her feelings behind downcast eyes.
"Feeling brave today, aren't you?" Ichigo's voice carried a hint of playfulness as his eyes drifted half-closed, his mouth curving into a knowing smile. "Did you think you could surprise me? You should know better after all this time." His tone held that familiar warmth that always made her pulse quicken.
"K-Kurosaki-kun..." she whispered, her breath coming quickly from their intimate moment. The old familiar blush spread across her face.
A soft laugh rumbled through his chest where it pressed against hers, deep and filled with tenderness.
"That old name again? I thought we'd left those formalities behind years ago." His fingertips traced lazy patterns on her skin, sending tingles through her body.
As his eyes opened fully, expecting to see his wife's beloved features - the face he'd memorized over their years together - he froze. Every muscle tensed, battle instincts surging to the surface.
Instead of his twenty-nine-year-old wife, a teenage girl in a school uniform lay before him, her orange hair tousled and her face flushed, looking up at him with confused eyes.
"Eh...?" The sound escaped him as he stared at her youthful face.
Gone too was their shared bedroom at home. Instead, he found himself in his old room at his father's house - the same space he'd left behind years ago. Everything felt wrong, and his battle-trained senses snapped fully awake, clearing away the last traces of sleep.
"Kurosaki-kun?" Orihime's voice wavered as she noticed his expression change. She watched him with uncertainty, her fingers playing with the edge of her school uniform - a nervous habit he hadn't seen since they were teenagers.
"Orihime... What the hell is going on?" The words came out harsher than he meant them to, rough with confusion.
She paused, looking away as she tried to find the right words. The streetlights outside cast a soft glow through his old bedroom window, catching on the flower-shaped hairpins at her temples - the same ones she'd worn every day during their high school years.
"Y-Your hands, Kurosaki-kun..." Her whisper was barely audible as her blush deepened, and she seemed to shrink into herself.
"What's wrong with me touching my wife?" Ichigo tried to keep his voice steady, but a creeping sense of dread was settling over him. His heart pounded as the world he knew seemed to unravel around them.
Ichigo's stomach twisted as he watched Orihime. Everything about her - from her mannerisms to her appearance - screamed of their high school days. Gone was the easy comfort between them, replaced by an awkward tension he hadn't felt in years. His wife had transformed into the timid teenager she'd once been, and alarm bells were clanging in his mind.
"W-wife?" she echoed, her voice shaking. He could feel her trembling beneath his touch, her eyes wide with disbelief.
Ichigo pulled back carefully, giving her space while his thoughts raced. His heart pounded so hard he could barely think straight.
Within moments, Orihime scrambled to the far side of the bed. She tugged at her disheveled clothes with unsteady hands - her blouse unbuttoned, her skirt riding up her thighs. A deep blush spread across her face as she struggled with each button, her movements lacking the grace he'd grown so familiar with.
"Orihime..." He watched her with growing worry. "What's going on? Why do you look 16 again? Why are we in my old room?" His eyes swept across the familiar space - the same old posters, his study desk exactly as he remembered it.
She met his questions with pure bewilderment, as if his words made no sense at all. The loving recognition he was used to seeing in her amber eyes had vanished, replaced by the shy uncertainty of their teenage years.
"Are you all right, Kurosaki-kun?" She reached for his hands with hesitant fingers, her touch careful and uncertain - nothing like the confident intimacy they'd shared for years.
Ichigo's mind spun as he tried to make sense of what was happening. Each passing second only added to his confusion, threatening to crack his usual composure as understanding slipped further from his grasp.
The Orihime standing before him felt the same at her core - he could sense that much in her Reiatsu - but something was off. Her presence felt diminished, reminding him of their high school days. The familiar warmth of her Reiatsu that had grown and deepened through their years together now felt thin and fragile, like a faded photograph of what it should be.
Ichigo shut his eyes, trying to steady himself. He'd faced his share of impossible situations before, but this was something else entirely. Orihime's spirit energy lacked all the subtle layers he'd come to know so well. And this room - it wasn't even their home. Every detail, from the old carpet to the familiar smells, belonged to a place he thought he'd left in his past.
When he reached out with his senses to search for answers, what he discovered made his blood run cold. His sisters were nearby in the house, but their spirits felt younger, smaller - exactly as they had been when the family still lived together. And it wasn't just them. Everyone he could detect - Rukia, Renji, Toshiro - all of their Reiatsu felt weaker, rawer, like echoes from years ago. None of them had the refined power they'd developed through countless battles.
He stood frozen, eyes still closed, his forehead creased in concentration and his teeth clenched against rising panic. His thoughts raced as he searched for an explanation, each new theory seeming more impossible than the last.
His first thought was of Aizen - old habits died hard when it came to the man who had once turned their lives upside down. Could this all be one of his illusions? But Ichigo dismissed that idea immediately. Aizen was long gone from their lives, and besides, Ichigo had grown too powerful to fall prey to such tricks. His own spiritual pressure had become too vast, too controlled, for anyone to manipulate so completely.
Then he considered Kisuke, the eccentric scientist had pulled some strange stunts before. But that didn't add up either. Their relationship had grown stronger over the years, built on trust. Kisuke wouldn't attempt something this serious without at least leaving him a clue.
As Ichigo sorted through these possibilities, another explanation began to form in his mind - one so outrageous he could barely let himself consider it, even after all the impossible things he'd seen in his life between the world of the living and the dead.
"Kurosaki-kun..." Orihime's voice pulled him back to reality.
He opened his eyes to find her watching him with worry written across her face. Though her cheeks were still pink, fear and confusion clouded her usually bright eyes. Even now, in the middle of this strange situation, she was more concerned about his wellbeing than her own. Her amber eyes glistened with tears she was trying to hold back.
"Are you feeling better?" she asked, her voice unsteady.
Ichigo struggled to find the right words. His mind was racing with questions, each answer more difficult to grasp than the last.
"Orihime," he said quietly, almost afraid to voice his thoughts, "How old are you now?"
Her eyes went wide, and instantly her healing shield, Sōten Kisshun, sprang to life. The soft golden light enveloped them as she reached out instinctively, clearly thinking he must be hurt or confused.
"Kurosaki-kun, what...?" she stammered, completely lost, her hands shaking slightly.
Feeling things spiral further out of control, Ichigo gently gripped her shoulders and looked directly into her eyes. He could feel her Reiatsu around him - familiar, yet somehow less developed, as if from years ago.
"Orihime, please answer me. How old are you?"
She stared back at him, more confused than ever, but answered with a shaky voice.
"S-sixteen, just like you, Kurosaki-kun."
The realization struck Ichigo with devastating force. He stood frozen as the words - "like you" - echoed through his mind, each repetition making his pulse quicken.
He pushed himself off the bed and rushed to the bathroom in his old room, his feet carrying him with an urgency he couldn't contain. His heart hammered against his ribs as he approached the mirror, each step feeling strange in this unfamiliar yet familiar body.
Then he saw himself.
The reflection staring back wasn't the man he knew. Instead of the 29-year-old husband he'd become, he saw himself at 16 - the same teenager who'd once stood ready to face Aizen. Gone were the sharp, mature features he'd grown into, replaced by a younger, softer face. His hair was different too - longer and wilder than he'd worn it in years.
"What?" The word barely escaped his lips.
The shock overwhelmed him. His vision blurred, and his legs buckled beneath him. As he fell backward, the cold bathroom floor was his only anchor to reality, his body feeling strangely weightless and leaden all at once.
The impact echoed through the house.
Orihime appeared instantly in the doorway, worry etched across her face. The golden glow of her powers already shimmered around her hairpins.
"Kurosaki-kun!" she cried out in panic. Behind her, his family's footsteps thundered down the hallway.
"Ichigo!" His father's voice, stripped of its usual playfulness, rang out in alarm.
"Ichi-nii!" Karin and Yuzu called together, trying to squeeze into the bathroom, their young voices cutting through his daze.
But their voices seemed distant. His mind raced, struggling to process what he'd discovered. His thoughts tangled together as he searched for answers, his spiritual pressure fluctuating wildly with his confusion.
Before he could find words to explain, darkness crept into his vision. One final question floated through his mind as consciousness slipped away:
What the hell happened?
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"Ichigo..." Old Man's deep voice pulled him from his daze, echoing through his mind with its familiar weight.
The memory of that room faded as Ichigo found himself in his inner world. Here, the spiritual pressure felt closer, more personal, wrapping around him like a protective blanket against his troubled thoughts.
His inner world remained unchanged despite the years that had passed. Skyscrapers stretched endlessly in every direction, their surfaces twisted at impossible angles. The sight was strange yet oddly comforting, with steel and glass reflecting the soft light of an endless twilight that bathed everything in cool blues and grays.
Old Man stood atop his usual pole, his dark coat melding with the shadows and stirring in a wind Ichigo couldn't feel. Though his eyes were hidden behind sunglasses, Ichigo felt the spirit's intense gaze studying him, as if searching for answers within his soul. There was something grounding about the spirit's presence, a mix of wisdom and control that Ichigo had come to rely on.
"Finally a familiar face," Ichigo said, letting out a tired breath as his shoulders relaxed. "Old Man... Do you have any idea what's going on?" He looked up at the Quincy spirit, who often seemed to understand Ichigo's life better than he did. His words carried across the vast space between buildings.
The silence that followed felt thick and uncomfortable. Even without seeing Old Man's eyes, Ichigo could feel the weight of his stare. It seemed strange - after all, Old Man was part of him. They were connected, two pieces of the same soul, each holding a different aspect of his power. Every moment they shared was in perfect harmony.
But something felt off. "Where's Zangetsu?" Ichigo asked, an uneasy feeling creeping through him. The absence of his fiercer spirit stood out in the quiet landscape.
"I'm in front of you, Ichigo," Old Man answered too quickly, his voice oddly stiff. Warning bells rang in Ichigo's mind at the spirit's unusual tone.
Ichigo's voice wavered with doubt as he faced the spirit before him. He studied Old Man's familiar black-clad figure, searching that weathered face for any trace of dishonesty. "How old am I?"
It was the same question he had asked Orihime earlier, but now he directed it at his own spirit - someone he trusted completely, Old Man had never deceived him. Their bond, strengthened through countless battles, was built on that trust. Yet the silence that followed his question made Ichigo's stomach twist.
The pause stretched too long, and Ichigo's heart pounded harder with each moment. When Old Man finally answered, his unnaturally calm tone sent a chill down Ichigo's spine. "I should say you're 16... but that's not true, is it, Ichigo?"
Ichigo squeezed his eyes shut, cursing under his breath. Old Man's response hit him like a physical blow. To most, he appeared to be a 16-year-old boy just discovering his powers. But Old Man was part of him - their memories and experiences were one, like two streams flowing into the same river.
The spirit's inability to give a straight answer confirmed what Ichigo feared: Old Man understood everything. He knew that despite looking like a teenager, Ichigo carried the weight of 29 years, shaped by battles and hardships that hadn't happened yet.
"I'm proud of the man you've become, Ichigo," Old Man said. Words that should have brought joy now only deepened Ichigo's anguish. There was a bitter edge to the spirit's voice, as if he too felt how wrong their situation had become.
Then the rain began.
The first drops crashed into Ichigo's inner world with crushing force, soaking the ground and filling the air with despair. Each raindrop carried the weight of his confusion and pain, turning his soul's landscape into a mirror of his troubled heart.
The realization hit Ichigo like a physical blow, driving him to his knees. His fingers dug into his scalp as he tried to grasp what was happening, to hold onto memories that seemed to be slipping away like smoke.
"What... what the hell happened?" he asked, his voice shaking. Everything suddenly made terrible sense - Old Man's words, Orihime's appearance, even his own reflection. There was only one way to confirm his fears. "Let it out, Old Man. I need to see him."
Old Man remained silent at first. His coat stretched downward like a living shadow, rippling with strange energy that darkened the air. From this darkness, a figure emerged - another Ichigo, but this one was different. Everything about him was pure white except for his eyes, which glowed golden with black backgrounds, cutting through the gloom.
"Oi, King. Looks like things have changed, huh?" Zangetsu's voice carried its usual mock, but Ichigo caught something else - a slight tremor that revealed his spirit's own unease.
With trembling hands, Ichigo reached out to touch Zangetsu's face. The spirit still looked sixteen, his features untouched by the years Ichigo remembered living.
"Time travel, huh? You really outdid yourself this time, King," Zangetsu said, his words sharp as a blade.
"It can't be..." Ichigo's voice cracked. Each of Zangetsu's words confirmed his worst fears. "I was with Orihime... Can't it be an illusion? Some trick of Kisuke's?" He was begging now, desperate for another explanation.
"We are you, Ichigo," Old Man said, his voice heavy with certainty. "No one can change who we are. Zangetsu's appearance is proof enough that you are no longer in your time."
Ichigo felt his world crumbling. "But I... I have a family. A wife, friends... a son..." His voice caught in his throat as he whispered, "Kazui..."
His hands fell limply to his sides as he collapsed to the ground. In the growing puddles around him, he saw his reflection - a young man overwhelmed by loss, his eyes wide with soul-deep anguish. The rain kept falling, each drop carrying the weight of everything he'd lost.
He felt Zangetsu and Old Man's hands on his shoulders, their quiet support the only comfort they could offer. Their grip steadied him as his mind threatened to spiral into darkness. No words came, only the sound of rain and his own cries of despair echoing through his empty inner world.
Ichigo stayed on his knees, pressed into the wet ground as rain poured down around him. Each drop hitting his inner world echoed in his mind, making his loss feel deeper, while ripples in the growing puddles reminded him of the life he'd lost. He couldn't catch his breath or calm the storm inside him. The air itself seemed to shake with his pain, his spiritual pressure surging wildly with every ragged breath.
"Why now?" he whispered, his voice barely audible over the rain. His hands gripped the ground, desperate for something solid to hold onto in this reality he no longer understood. Cold seeped through his clothes, making him feel even more lost. "Why now, when I finally had... everything?"
Zangetsu looked down at him, unusually serious. Though his face stayed neutral, Ichigo could feel the spirit's sympathy through their connection. His white form stood out against the dark, rainy world. "King, you know we can't control what happens in our lives. This time is no different. But what you can control is how you handle it."
Old Man, silent until now, spoke with a deep voice that carried years of wisdom. His dark cloak moved in the spiritual winds sweeping through their sideways world. "This is not the end, Ichigo. You know there is always a way out, always an answer. We don't know how you got here, but what matters now is how you're going to get back."
Ichigo closed his eyes, trying to focus. The rain felt heavier now, each drop filled with his sadness. He knew they were right - he'd faced hopeless situations before. But this felt different. Everything he'd built with Orihime, with Kazui... being trapped in a time before it existed felt like losing everything. The thought sent fresh pain through his chest.
"But I..." Ichigo squeezed his fists until his nails bit into his palms, the sharp pain helping to clear his head even as his thoughts threatened to overwhelm him. "I don't know where to start. I don't know how to get back. Kisuke might have an answer, but... What if this is bigger than him? What if there's no way back?"
Zangetsu leaned in close, his golden eyes meeting Ichigo's. Rather than intimidating, the hollow spirit's presence brought an unexpected comfort. "You won't know that until you try, King. But if there's one thing we know, it's that giving up isn't in your nature. You've always fought for what you love. This time will be no different."
Ichigo stayed on the ground a moment longer, breathing deeply as his spirits' words sank in. Though the rain still fell steadily in his inner world, its rhythm felt less overwhelming. The despair in his chest remained like a tight knot, but a small flame of determination began to push back against the darkness.
His body felt heavy as lead when he pushed himself up, muscles protesting with each movement. Still, he forced himself to stand. The rain continued to fall around him, but it no longer felt crushing - more like a gentle reminder of what he needed to do.
His spirits watched him silently, their approval clear in their expressions. Zangetsu's usual mocking smile had softened, while the Old Man's stern face showed a hint of pride. They didn't need words - they knew this was the same Ichigo who had always faced impossible odds and won.
"I don't have all the answers," he said quietly, his eyes reflecting the gray sky above. His hands opened and closed at his sides, missing the familiar grip of his sword. "But I know I'll find a way. Orihime... Kazui... I won't leave them behind."
The Old Man nodded slightly, his voice gentler than usual as his black coat stirred in the wind. "You've never done it before. You won't now."
"That's right, King." Zangetsu flashed his sharp-toothed grin. "Now, let's stop whining. We've got work to do."
Ichigo felt his resolve growing stronger, warmth spreading through his chest and pushing away the last traces of doubt. The path ahead would be difficult, but he'd learned that he never had to walk it alone. He had allies, friends, and most importantly, a reason to keep fighting.
Taking one final deep breath, Ichigo felt his spirits' energy merge with his own. Power flowed through him, steady and familiar. Time wasn't on his side, but that wouldn't stop him. He clenched his fists and steeled himself for whatever came next.
"We will find a way," he declared, his voice firm with renewed purpose. The words echoed through his inner world like a promise. As the scene around him began to fade, Ichigo returned to reality with fresh determination. His spiritual pressure settled into a controlled flow, no longer wild and unstable as before.
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Orihime's mind spun with a storm of emotions she could barely contain. The events of the past few hours pressed down on her, making it difficult to think straight. Ulquiorra had given her just twelve hours to say goodbye to her friends before taking her away - twelve hours to protect them from a fate she dreaded. Each minute had ticked by like a painful countdown, forcing her to bear the weight of farewells she couldn't truly speak.
She had known exactly where she wanted to spend her final moments. Since losing her beloved brother, Ichigo Kurosaki had become the center of her world, though she kept that love carefully hidden. His presence alone could make her heart race, and even his briefest glance left her breathless.
But nothing had gone according to plan. When Ichigo found her, the encounter took an unexpected turn that left her stunned. He had been dreaming, lost in a world between sleep and waking, yet he had called her by her first name with such tenderness. More incredibly, he had called her his wife.
Heat bloomed across Orihime's face at the memory, spreading to the tips of her ears. "Ichigo dreamed of me... as his wife?" The thought sent her emotions spiraling, hope and disbelief warring in her chest. Could he possibly share her feelings? Had he been hiding them all this time, just as she had?
She shook her head hard, squeezing her eyes shut. "It can't be... Kurosaki-kun has never looked at me that way. It was just a dream... wasn't it?" Even as she tried to dismiss the idea, her fingers drifted to her lips, remembering the whisper-soft touch of his kiss in that dreamlike moment.
Reality crashed back harshly through her racing thoughts. She had failed to escape as planned, breaking her promise to protect her friends. Ulquiorra's deadline had passed, yet here she remained in the human world, her heart heavy with the knowledge that her presence now put everyone she loved at even greater risk.
The small room in Urahara's tent felt both confining and strangely vast in the dim light. Orihime sat beside Ichigo's unconscious form on a simple futon, watching his chest rise and fall in peaceful rhythm. His calm breathing stood in stark contrast to the turmoil raging within her. Though she was safe here, the weight of recent events pressed down on her shoulders like a physical burden. Her hands shook as she gazed at his familiar features, finding both solace and heartache in his peaceful expression. More than anything, she wished she could take away his pain.
When Ichigo had collapsed, his father had revealed a side of himself that left Orihime stunned. Isshin had moved with the practiced efficiency of someone intimately familiar with the spiritual world - a far cry from his usual goofy demeanor. This hidden depth brought her an unexpected sense of comfort amid their crisis. Without wasting a moment, he had entrusted Ichigo to Urahara and rushed to get his daughters to safety.
She had tried to keep herself together, but the moment Urahara asked her to explain what happened, her composure shattered. Through tears and broken words, she told him about her encounter with Ulquiorra in the Dangai. The memory of his cold presence still sent chills down her spine. She described his cruel ultimatum - surrender herself, or watch her friends die.
Throughout her story, Urahara listened intently, his face unreadable beneath his striped hat. His calm demeanor puzzled her, but his response brought unexpected relief. He assured her that Aizen wouldn't waste resources trying to capture her, not with the final battle looming so close. His words made her realize how foolish she'd been to face this alone, rather than trusting in her friends' support from the start.
Orihime couldn't hold back her tears anymore. They rolled down her cheeks and fell onto her hands, which she'd balled into tight fists in her lap. "Kurosaki-kun," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I'm so sorry. If I wasn't so useless, none of this would have happened." The words spilled out before she could stop them, heavy with a self-doubt she usually kept buried deep inside.
A sudden warmth against her cheek made her freeze. Someone was gently wiping away her tears. She looked up, shocked to find Ichigo's eyes fixed on her. The tenderness in his gaze made her heart skip a beat.
"Orihime," he said softly, choosing his words with care. "Don't say that. You're not useless... You never have been." Something dark flickered across his face before he added, "You've saved me more times than I can count."
"Kurosaki-kun... You're awake..." Her voice shook as relief and surprise washed over her.
Before she could say more, Ichigo sat up and pulled her into an embrace that left her breathless. He buried his face against her neck, his breathing uneven in a way that told her something wasn't right.
"K-Kurosaki-kun..." Heat rushed to her face, but this time it wasn't just embarrassment she felt. Worry crept in as she noticed how tense he was, how unusual it was for him to show such vulnerability. "What... what's going on?"
"Just... let me hold you a little longer." Ichigo's voice came out fragile and quiet. "I'll explain everything... just give me a moment."
Orihime wanted to press him for answers, but when she felt his tears against her skin, she stayed silent. Each drop soaked into her shirt, telling her more about his pain than words could express. She held him close, her hands trembling as they rested against his back.
"What's wrong, Kurosaki-kun?" Minutes passed, filled only with his unsteady breathing before she found the courage to ask. Her heart raced as she waited.
"Call me Ichigo... and I... I don't know where to start, Orihime," he said softly, his face still hidden against her neck. His grip on her clothes tightened like he feared she might vanish.
"Maybe you should start by explaining why you fainted, brat." A new voice cut through the moment.
Orihime looked up to find Isshin Kurosaki standing there in traditional black Shinigami robes, a white haori moving gently in the breeze from the window. Heat rushed to her face at being caught in such an intimate moment by Ichigo's father.
She tried to pull away, but Ichigo held her close. He lifted his head to face his father, tears still visible on his cheeks in the afternoon light. What struck Orihime as odd was how unsurprised he seemed by his father's Shinigami appearance - something he should never have seen before.
Isshin's playful expression shifted to something more serious, though he tried to hide it behind a light tone. "Really? No surprise to see me dressed as a Shinigami?" He made an exaggerated pout and put his hand on his hip. But his eyes held the sharp, calculating look of a former Gotei 13 Captain.
Ichigo gave a bitter laugh that filled the quiet room. "After more than ten years, what's there to be surprised about?" The heaviness in his voice seemed to weigh on everyone present.
The change in Isshin was instant - his playful demeanor vanished as his hand moved to his sword. His eyes, now sharp and focused, studied his son carefully. The air grew cold around them. "You've only known about the spirit world for a few months, Ichigo," he said, his voice so stern that Orihime felt her chest tighten.
A tired smile crossed Ichigo's face as he met his father's gaze. "In your eyes, I'm just a teenager who barely discovered his powers," he said, his words carrying hidden meaning.
Deep lines appeared on Isshin's forehead as he tried to understand what his son was saying. His grip on his sword didn't loosen. "What are you talking about, kid?"
Ichigo paused, his body tense as he gathered his thoughts. Outside, evening cicadas chirped through the window, breaking the thick silence. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. "I'm not who you think I am. Yes, I'm Ichigo Kurosaki - but I'm twenty-nine years old, not sixteen. Last night, I went to sleep beside my wife..." He glanced down at Orihime, who stood frozen in his arms. "And this morning, I woke up here, in my teenage body."
Silent shock settled over the room like a thick blanket. Both Isshin and Orihime stood frozen, their eyes wide as they struggled to process Ichigo's impossible claim. The evening air grew thick with tension.
"What kind of joke is this?" Isshin broke the silence first, gripping his sword so tight his knuckles turned white. His voice wavered between anger and disbelief, as if challenging reality itself. "You expect me to believe that?"
Ichigo remained calm, his stance unwavering as he delivered another shocking revelation. "Mom was a Quincy. She saved you from a black Hollow that was killing Shinigami in the human world. When the Hollow infected her with its soul, you gave up your powers to save her life."
The color drained from Isshin's face. His mouth fell open, but no words came out as sweat beaded on his forehead. These were secrets he had shared with only his closest confidants - Kisuke, Yoruichi, and Ryūken. No one else could have known unless...unless Ichigo was telling the truth.
"Are you from the future, Kurosaki-kun?" Orihime's gentle voice broke through the silence, though it trembled with uncertainty. She gazed up at him with wide amber eyes full of surprise and curiosity, her fingers nervously twisting the fabric of her skirt as she waited for his answer.
Ichigo gazed at Orihime and let out a weary sigh. "Call me Ichigo, Orihime," he whispered. He leaned forward until their foreheads touched, making her breath catch in her throat. His fingers traced along her arm with a familiarity that suggested countless shared moments between them. "After ten years of marriage, it feels strange to hear you call me anything else." Though his voice was gentle, sadness tinged his words.
"Marriage...?" Orihime felt her world tilt. Her mind couldn't process what she'd just heard, her thoughts scattered and jumbled. This future Ichigo spoke of - they were married. The revelation sent heat rushing to her cheeks, spreading like wildfire down her neck and to her ears.
Across the room, Isshin struggled to maintain his composure. Gone was his usual playful manner as he studied his son intently. "How did you get here?" he asked, his voice tight with worry and confusion. His hands fidgeted restlessly at his sides. "And what happened to the Ichigo who should be in that body?"
"I don't know," Ichigo admitted heavily. He turned away from Orihime, his gaze fixed on a blank wall as his shoulders tensed with barely contained emotion. "I was hoping Kisuke could explain what happened to me."
A heavy silence blanketed the room, broken only by a soft, knowing chuckle from the direction Ichigo faced. Kisuke Urahara stepped out of the shadows, his form materializing as if he'd been invisible moments before. The dim light caught the green stripes of his hat as he emerged.
"I'm sorry, Kurosaki-san," Kisuke said, hiding behind his paper fan while his eyes glinted beneath his hat brim. "When our kidō alarm told us you were awake, I hurried over. But I didn't want to interrupt such a tender moment."
Ichigo sighed tiredly and pulled away from Orihime. He wiped his tears with his sleeve, the rough fabric scratching against his reddened eyes. "After working together for more than a decade, Kisuke, I know better than to think I can keep secrets from you."
The pain crept back into Ichigo's expression, carving deep lines around his mouth and eyes. In that brief moment, his mask slipped, revealing the raw hurt beneath his composure. "I need your help, Kisuke. I'm... far away from home." His voice shook, the words catching in his throat, exposing just how much he was suffering.
Kisuke tilted his head down, letting his striped hat shadow his eyes. Gone was his usual teasing manner, replaced by genuine concern. "So it would seem, Kurosaki-san." He softened his voice, speaking with rare gentleness. "Shall I buy you all a cup of tea? Maybe we can settle things enough for you to explain what happened to you."
Ichigo nodded slowly. He looked over at his father, who stared back with worried confusion, trying to make sense of the son who seemed both familiar and strange. Without speaking, Ichigo reached for Orihime's hand. Her touch steadied him, and their fingers wove together naturally, finding comfort in each other despite their strange situation. Together, they followed Kisuke from the room.
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Minutes later, the four of them gathered around a traditional Japanese table, its polished surface catching the soft overhead light. Ichigo held tight to Orihime's hand, drawing strength from her presence as he fought to keep himself together. Pain etched his features, and though determination burned in his eyes, an emotional void seemed to surround him. Every movement appeared labored, as if invisible weights pressed down on his shoulders.
Across the table, Urahara had set his folded fan down, its bamboo casting thin lines of shadow. Despite the brim of his striped hat, his sharp, calculating eyes were clearly visible as they studied Ichigo. The shop owner's expression mixed wonder with intense curiosity while he observed Ichigo's changed behavior and his closeness to Orihime. Though theories likely raced through his brilliant mind, he remained silent, waiting for the full story.
Isshin maintained a casual pose against the wall, but his eyes never left his son. Worry creased his forehead, and beneath his apparent confusion lay a deeper fear - one that Ichigo understood completely. The question of what had happened to this timeline's version of himself would haunt any parent. Ichigo could imagine the terror of seeing his own son Kazui in such a situation, the crushing weight of that uncertainty.
The reality of his situation pressed heavily on Ichigo's mind. This body, this soul, rightfully belonged to his sixteen-year-old self, still growing and learning. What had become of the present Ichigo's consciousness? The question echoed in his thoughts. Had it simply vanished? Or had their minds somehow merged together? The lack of answers left an expanding void within him.
The sharp click of ceramic on wood cut through the silence as Urahara set down his cup.
"So, Kurosaki-san," he said with a slight bow, his tone walking the line between playful and serious. "You say you're from the future, and you've proven you know things you shouldn't. But you know me... I'm a careful man."
Ichigo cut him off, his patience running out with the familiar routine of careful questions and hidden meanings.
"We've worked together for decades, Kisuke. Want me to start listing your secrets so you'll believe me?" He raised an eyebrow, his challenge carrying both humor and defiance, weighted with years of shared history that had yet to unfold.
Kisuke's smile tightened, caught between intrigue and wariness. Without his usual fan to mask his expression, the others could see the mix of amusement and unease playing across his features. His eyes narrowed as he recognized the weight behind Ichigo's challenge.
"Let's not be hasty, Kurosaki-san." Kisuke leaned back, his fingers tapping a slow rhythm against his knee. "If you know me so well, you'll understand my doubts. Time travel is something I've studied before. If you'd arrived in an older body while your teenage self was still here, I could explain it - maybe the Dangai or something similar. But having your future mind in your younger body? That's harder to believe. The consequences would be enormous."
Ichigo watched Kisuke try to take back control of their conversation. He couldn't help but smile, knowing he held all the cards this time. Their usual back-and-forth felt strange now - decades of friendship and trust existed only in his memory.
"Should I start with what you really know about the Hogyoku?" Ichigo asked. "Or maybe tell you about Ururu and Jinta's true nature?" He saw Kisuke's careful mask slip for just a moment. "We could even discuss what you're keeping in that basement. Or if you'd prefer, I could break down every single detail about your Bankai - including its weaknesses."
The shock in Kisuke's eyes was unmistakable. Ichigo had hit his mark. While Orihime and Isshin shared bewildered looks, they missed the deeper meaning behind his words. But Kisuke understood perfectly - his relaxed pose vanished as he sat up straight.
"It seems we become quite close in the future, Ichigo-san," Kisuke said after a moment, this time using his name. Though he kept smiling, his keen eyes betrayed a calculating mind at work. The atmosphere grew tense. Ichigo squeezed Orihime's hand a bit tighter, drawing strength from her presence while offering his own support.
Orihime had been quiet, but emotions welled up inside her. Her eyes darted between Ichigo and Kisuke, sensing the unspoken conflict. She was the one who finally broke the heavy silence.
"Ichigo... how did you get here?" she asked softly, her voice tinged with worry. She seemed to hope for a simple explanation, but her trembling words revealed her growing unease.
Ichigo's expression softened as he looked at her. She alone could break through his defenses. His loving gaze made her blush, pink spreading across her cheeks. In that moment, the gap between past and future both stretched and vanished.
"I have no idea, Orihime," he sighed, his shoulders dropping as tension leaked away. Confusion weighed on him heavily. "I fell asleep beside you after putting our son to bed. When I woke up, I felt you nearby. At first, I thought you were playing around, trying to surprise me. Nothing seemed wrong until I realized this wasn't my time - everything was different."
He paused, confusion flickering across his face before his brow wrinkled in thought.
"But... why were you in my room? I don't remember this happening before," he said, his voice filled with sudden curiosity and dawning understanding.
Orihime looked down, embarrassed. Her fingers shook slightly as her heart pounded. Moonlight streaming through the window cast her face in shadow, making her seem more fragile.
"I... was about to leave... for Hueco Mundo," she whispered, the words catching in her throat.
Ichigo's eyes widened as recognition struck him. The memory crystallized in his mind, sharp and vivid, a moment from his past he'd nearly forgotten.
"Now I get it. I never knew you were there that night. You slipped away without telling anyone. We had to storm into Hueco Mundo to get you back," he said, the memory of that desperate rescue mission washing over him.
Orihime squeezed his hand tighter, caught between happiness and shame. Her heart soared knowing how much he cared, yet ached with guilt for not having trusted him with her troubles back then. Tears welled up in her amber eyes.
Feeling her distress, Ichigo let go of her hand and pulled her into a protective embrace. His presence wrapped around her like a shield, as if he could guard her from the darkness surrounding them and the pain that waited ahead.
He turned to look at Kisuke, who had been studying their interaction with shrewd eyes.
"Got any theories about what's going on, Kisuke?" Ichigo tried to keep his voice steady, but a slight tremor betrayed his worry. The unspoken fear that they might not find a solution hung heavy in the room.
Kisuke rose to his feet and began pacing, his wooden sandals making soft tapping sounds against the floor.
"Like I mentioned before, Ichigo-san, I'm familiar with time travel. But in all my experiments, I could never control where or when things ended up. As for living beings..." he adjusted his striped hat, "none survived the time stream intact. Which leaves only one explanation." He paused for effect. "Your mind alone made the journey."
The color drained from Ichigo's face at those words. He'd suspected this might be the case, but hearing it confirmed felt like a physical blow.
"If it's just your mind that traveled to this younger body, what happened to the Ichigo who belonged here?" Kisuke's question cut through the quiet.
Ichigo looked down at the floor, his jaw clenched and his fists tight with frustration.
"I don't know," he said quietly, his voice heavy with guilt. "Maybe he got sent to my time. Maybe he just vanished."
Isshin broke his silence, his usual playful manner replaced by a serious expression.
"Couldn't they have merged?"
"It's impossible to know," Ichigo met his father's eyes, seeing the worry beneath his controlled facade. "We are the same person. Whether we merged or he just disappeared, it's the same thing. But if he's not in my time... then maybe he's gone forever."
The room grew quiet except for the soft rustling of leaves in the wind outside. Ichigo felt his composure slipping, the weight of everything threatening to overwhelm him.
"And then there's another issue," Kisuke said, his voice heavy with knowledge. "Time doesn't usually change from just one event. This trip might have created different versions of reality, different paths where this same moment is playing out differently. Even if you make it back, you might not return to the exact future you remember."
Each word hit Ichigo like a physical blow. The concept of alternate realities seemed distant and hard to grasp, but the implications were devastating. What would it mean for his future? For everyone he'd fought to protect?
"Whatever brought you here might have split time into different paths," Kisuke continued. "There's no guarantee you'll return to the same world you left. The effects could change things in ways we can't predict."
Ichigo closed his eyes, but couldn't stop a tear from escaping. Orihime held him tighter, trying to share his pain. Her embrace was both soothing and heartbreaking, reminding him of everything at stake. He tried to keep breathing steadily, to maintain his composure, but the weight of it all finally broke through his defenses.
It started with a slight trembling in his hands, spreading until his whole body shook. He collapsed into Orihime's arms, crying softly against her as his strength drained away.
"I can't do it again... I can't... I can't... lose them," he whispered brokenly.
Orihime stroked his hair, crying silently with him while Kisuke and Isshin watched helplessly, knowing the real challenges still lay ahead. A gentle wind rattled the windows of Urahara's tent, its lonely sound matching Ichigo's despair. He sat there, clutching Orihime's hand like an anchor, staring at the floor as his world seemed to spiral into darkness around him.
Orihime moved closer to Ichigo as she felt his grip tighten. Though her own fear lingered, determination shone in her amber eyes. Ichigo stared ahead with tears threatening to fall, as if Kisuke's words had destroyed his last hopes. Still, Orihime held on, her presence steady. She gently rubbed his hand with her thumb, trying to anchor him in his grief and show him he wasn't alone.
"Ichigo..." Her voice was soft but carried unexpected strength. "I know that everything you've lost... it's more than any of us can truly understand. I won't pretend to know exactly how you feel..." She paused as tears welled in her eyes, but she fought them back, swallowing hard. "But you're not alone. Even though you've lost so much, you still have people who care about you. I'm here, and I'll stay by your side, no matter what happens next."
Ichigo lifted his head slightly, his face still twisted with pain and confusion. The weight of Kisuke's revelations showed in the lines around his eyes. He seemed to look through Orihime rather than at her, her words barely reaching through his fog of grief. She spoke again, her voice growing firmer with each word, drawing on strength she didn't know she had.
"We'll rebuild what's been broken. I don't know how or when, but we'll do it together. You don't have to face this alone. Whatever comes next, Ichigo, we'll face it side by side. That's my promise to you."
Her words slowly seeped through the cracks in Ichigo's defenses, offering comfort to wounds that seemed too deep to heal. Though tears still rolled down his cheeks, a tiny spark of hope flickered in his eyes, refusing to be snuffed out by despair. He squeezed her hand in silent thanks, his fingers trembling against hers as he held onto the lifeline she offered.
But the moment of peace didn't last. Reality crept back in, darkening that brief glimmer of hope. Kisuke stood and began pacing the room, his sandals whispering against the tatami mats as his mind worked through countless possibilities. Finally, he stopped and fixed Ichigo with a serious look, his gray eyes shadowed beneath his striped hat.
"It's true that what you're experiencing is beyond understanding, even for me. But we need to face reality, Ichigo," Kisuke said gravely, his usual playful manner vanishing. "We're at war. Aizen won't stop because of your personal loss. Though I want to investigate what happened to you - and I promise I will when we can - right now, Aizen must be our focus. Everything depends on it."
Ichigo closed his eyes and clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white, his nails digging into his palms. Kisuke's words rang true, but that didn't make them easier to accept. The warrior in him understood the urgency, but his broken heart rebelled against moving forward. The weight of everything he'd lost - his future, his loved ones, his son - pressed down on him like chains.
"What's happened to you is life-changing," Kisuke continued, moving closer with quiet steps. His voice softened but remained urgent. "I promise we'll search for answers someday, but not today. Right now, we need the Ichigo who never gives up, who's always ready to fight. Aizen is still out there, spreading his poison through every realm."
Ichigo remained quiet, his breathing rough in the silence. Though grief still choked him, Kisuke's words sparked something inside him - a tiny seed of purpose in his devastated heart. The duty to protect others remained, even if his own world had crumbled.
At last, with visible effort that drained the color from his face, Ichigo nodded. When he met Kisuke's eyes, his gaze was tired and haunted, but a faint determination flickered there, like a distant star. "I know you're right. Aizen won't wait," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "But I don't know how to go on. Everything feels wrong."
Orihime held him closer, her warmth fighting back the emptiness threatening to swallow him. "You don't have to do it alone. I'm here, and so is everyone else." Her gentle words were strong with conviction, making Ichigo hold onto her like a lifeline.
He took a deep breath, fighting back fresh tears. Though he didn't speak, the tension slowly left his body. The road ahead stretched endlessly, and his losses would always mark his heart, but he could lean on those around him. His hands still shook, not with surrender now, but with the effort of finding strength to stand again, even when moving forward seemed impossible.