Disclaimer: Not mine
Keep in mind I haven't seen anything beyond beating Aizen in the anime and never read the magna. Most of what I know comes from other fics.
Chapter 2
He floated in a sea of pain, he couldn't move, couldn't hear anything…was he moving? And then sheer agony slammed into him as he slammed into something very solid. He coughed, gasping for air as he rolled to the side, instincts screaming to move, to never show weakness. He forced his eyes open as he pushed to his knees, vision unfocused but he could make out some jumbled pieces of rubble.
He grabbed onto a big piece and used it to pull himself up, staggering, why wasn't he healing? He tried to and nearly blacked out…that was why, he had nothing to spare for highspeed regeneration. He staggered away until he found a building with a roof, dragging himself inside to rest and hopefully heal. Once he was down again, he tore strips off what remained of his clothes to staunch the bleeding before passing out.
When Ichigo finally truly woke up it was dark, but his wounds had almost finished healing and his head felt clearer which was nice. He looked down at his shredded clothes and sighed, at least there was enough left of his jeans to preserve his modesty but that was about it. He got up and moved to where he had entered, relieved nothing had tracked the blood he'd left behind yet, but he doubted that would last so he needed to get moving. He looked around, the darkness of night not much of a problem anymore, trying to work out where he was but there weren't exactly many landmarks left after years of fighting. But…something didn't feel right.
Why was he alone? Where were Shinji and Hachi? They had…a fight, they'd been fighting Aizen. His head was aching, making it harder to remember. Hachi…Hachi was dead. So where was Shinji? He had promised he wouldn't leave Ichigo alone; he'd promised…no…he was dead. Aizen had taunted him, he'd lost it…something…something of Kisuke's had triggered. He'd stabbed Aizen and…grabbed the Hōgyoku. So where was Aizen? Surely, he hadn't actually managed to finally kill the monster?
He closed his eyes, manifesting Spirit Ribbons only to stare in shock at the amount. What the hell? It wasn't possible… he grabbed a ribbon, staring at it, this couldn't be one of Aizen's illusions, he was immune, but Ishida was long dead so how could he be holding his Spirit Ribbon? What had they triggered from Kisuke's destroyed shop?
Ichigo forced himself to release the Ribbon and calm down. He got moving, in case anyone had sensed what he'd down, coming across the burnt out remains of his old school. He entered via a window and swallowed at seeing the mess. But it shouldn't be there at all, the school had been completely destroyed close to the beginning of the war, an act meant to demoralise them by killing their friends. Instead, it had pissed them off, especially Orihime since Tatsuki had been inside. Losing their friends had hurt so much, so how was the school still standing in any way?
He made his way through the building until he found the gym which wasn't as damaged due to being deeper in the building. He found the guys locker room and began yanking lockers open, hoping for something he could use. He grinned, jackpot, the clothing smelt of smoke but otherwise wasn't bad. Thankfully a lot of guys kept a set of casual clothes in their locker, for when they were going somewhere after school mostly. Out of curiosity, he checked his own old locker and then frowned…those weren't his clothes or things. It had been years, but he knew the stuff inside wasn't his. But it should be, he hadn't been gone from school long enough for it to be reassigned since he was still enrolled. He shook those thoughts off, something weird was going on, but survival came first.
He stripped off and glanced at the showers wistfully but there was no way the water was still on, so he rubbed himself down with the old stuff, getting off as much blood and gunk as possible, before pulling on a pair of jeans and a shirt before trying on all the shoes to find a pair that wouldn't kill his feet or fall off.
Ichigo bundled up whatever would fit him and shoved it in an old gym bag before going to scavenge through the school for anything that would be useful. He didn't find a lot, but he hadn't expected to. A broken vending machine at least meant chocolate bars and nuts. He wasn't going to risk the chips or anything else that went off to quickly. Maybe an old supermarket would have more food, tinned goods or noodles or something. He'd need water soon too; he needed to regain his strength after the battle and whatever had happened. He went into the staff room and looked around before putting his bag down and using the remains of the couches to make a pallet on the floor. From the look of the cushions, the fire system had kicked in at some point, but it had been long enough they had dried out again. Something had even been chewing on them, but he couldn't see any rodents. The school would make a good base until he could work out what was going on.
He jerked awake the next morning to the feeling of a fight nearby. A fight unlike anything he'd been near in a long time…two sides with numbers, not just one or two fighters.
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Shinji dodged a blow that would have taken his head off, Sakanade coming up to block the next blow even as he was pushed back some. He hated fighting Zaraki, the man was almost impossible to wound and had easily cut through their forces. Fighting anyone from his Division was a pain but Zaraki was the worst. Only the highest level Arrancar or ex-lieutenant and above stood a chance against him.
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Ichigo crouched in the shadows, staring at the battle in confusion. It was Shinji… but not the Shinji he remembered. This one still had neat shoulder length hair and two working eyes, and he was fighting Zaraki… why? This was no sparing match; they were really trying to kill each other. He looked past them to the rest of the battle, seeing Arrancar and Visored fighting side by side. That wasn't a new thing since several Espada and below had defected during the war, but they were fighting against the Shinigami, that was what he didn't understand.
Ichigo froze as he saw Hiyori fighting a Shinigami, with another coming up behind her that she obviously hadn't noticed. Without another thought he moved, drawing his larger blade to block the blow that would have seriously injured, if not killed her. He lashed out with a kick, sending the Shinigami flying back.
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Hiyori spun as she heard the sound of blades clashing behind her to see an unseated Shinigami go flying, ready to yell at Shinji that she could handle it, except…that was not Shinji. She saw modern human clothes and a massive blade, orange hair, and then he was gone. She turned to defend herself and saw a flash of orange near Kensei, taking care of some of his opponents before moving on.
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Ichigo moved back into hiding, supressing his powers so that they wouldn't notice him. All the years of war had ensured that he finally learnt how – that he learnt a lot of things he should have been taught before ever seeing battle. Maybe he shouldn't have interfered until he knew what was going on, but he couldn't sit back and watched the Visored injured or killed, not again. They were Visored, he could sense that, but they felt a bit stronger than he was used to. As they began looking around, he retreated, not wanting to be found yet, not until he understood what was going on.
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Shinji quickly moved over to Hiyori, looking her over. "Okay?"
"Yeah…who was he?" she asked, looking around but she couldn't spot him.
"Who?" Shinji frowned in confusion.
"The man who interfered in my fight, he had a Zanpakutō, but he was dressed like a modern human," Kensei answered tightly. "He was near me for a bit but then he vanished."
Several of the group admitted to having had a glimpse of a tall, orange haired man wielding a massive blade, but he had apparently vanished into thin air with the end of the fight. No one had gotten a good look at his face either, which didn't help. Shinji was suspicious of a suddenly appearing Good Samaritan. Zanpakutō meant Shinigami, Visored, or Arrancar. Sōsuke hadn't mentioned any new Arrancar so he wasn't one of theirs, though they could occur naturally. It wouldn't be the first time Soul Society tried to slip a spy into their ranks, but his clothing was an odd choice.
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Reports of the stranger quickly spread throughout the camp. Whispers of a Shinigami trap or a natural Arrancar made the rounds, no one able to decide just which this newcomer was. They were all very wary of a possible newcomer, they'd been burnt before due to the work of the Twelfth. But whoever or whatever this person was, they weren't approaching anyone. Some battles they remained unseen, others they intervened on their behalf.
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Ichigo lay on the old cushions, hands behind his head as he stared up at the blackened ceiling. It had been three weeks and he still wasn't sure what was going on. Everyone he had watched die was still alive and it hurt, he wanted to go to them but…things were too different. He'd seen Shinji with Aizen! How had that happened? He needed more information but how to get it without revealing himself? He'd interfered in the fights he'd seen to save friends but had made sure to vanish afterwards. No one seemed to recognise him, and he knew they'd seen Zangetsu and his rather distinctive hair and he wasn't sure what that meant.
He wanted his friends back, the world he understood. This place was too different, and he didn't understand it. But he'd been friends with Orihime long enough to have heard a lot of weird theories about the world, this wasn't time travel, but she had talked about other worlds and forks? That was scary. What had Kisuke been researching before his shop was destroyed? Add in the fact his blade had cracked the evil marble… yeah, he just had to accept this wasn't his world. What he knew as fact may not be true here.
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Sōsuke read over the reports, curious. Who would have thought running a rebellion would generate so much paperwork? He certainly hadn't expected it. He'd been naïve enough to think there'd be less than when he was a mere Captain. And now there were reports of a mystery person interfering in the battles. So far, the reported interventions had been in their favour, but why? What was his motivation and cause? He hadn't approached them so if he was meant to be a spy, he wasn't a good one. No one had gotten a good look at him yet or even knew what he was. He was a mystery and Sōsuke did not like mysteries anymore, not when they could put his people at risk.
They were barely holding Karakura as it was, and he knew that if an attack came on two fronts, hitting them here and at Las Noches, they would be defeated. He had quality, every one of their fighters was powerful and skilled. Soul Society had 13 divisions with hundreds of Shinigami plus the Academy to refresh their numbers. Not to mention the annoyance of the various inventions churned out by the 12th Division. Why Kisuke had ever made that maniac his Third Seat, Sōsuke didn't know. He could continue to make Arrancar, but it took time and the average Arrancar couldn't take on a lieutenant let alone a captain.
If this newcomer could be brought to their side, then they would have another powerful fighter. He did not believe the man was an Arrancar and from the size of his blade it sounded like his Shikai state. Did he have Bankai? He gave the order for the newcomer to be left alone unless he attacked them first but also to try and approach him, to find out who he was.
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He frowned, leaning back in his chair. A new player was not good, especially as he seemed to be siding with the rebels. He was powerful, they knew that much but little else. He had orange hair, a massive Zanpakutō, and was a skilled fighter. That was the sum of their knowledge. Yamamoto did not like mysteries and this was a dangerous one. Did this person know what he was fighting for? He did not hang around, did not seem to help out post-battle. Perhaps they had the chance to woo him to the right side.
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Shinji groaned in pain, trying to open his eyes but then hands were there, gently shifting him to a position that took the pressure off his side. In fact…he was leaning against something nice and warm. He could feel sleep pulling him back under but he struggled against it, vague memories of a fight flitting through his mind. He could feel bandages wrapped firmly around his ribs, more around his arm where Byakuya had scored a hit. His eyes snapped open; he'd been alone! He struggled to try and get up but the hands returned holding him firmly but gently immobile against what he know realised was someone's chest.
"It's okay, I won't hurt you. Just relax, you've got two broken ribs and three cracked," an unfamiliar voice whispered.
"Who?" he couldn't see behind him, couldn't see much actually due to it being pretty dark.
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Ichigo held Shinji's battered form against his own body, keeping him warm to ward off shock from his injuries. He hesitated to answer, not sure what or how much to say. He put a hand to Shinji's head, checking for fever and stalling. "Ichigo, my name is Ichigo," he finally offered softly. "How do you feel? Any pain other than the ribs and arm?"
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Shinji didn't recognise the name at all but someone saving him that he didn't know? "You're him, right? The orange haired stranger that keeps helping." He closed his eyes, assessing his body. "Just a headache," he admitted and the body behind him shifted before a cool cloth was pressed to his head and Shinji sighed at the cool relief.
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"Yeah," Ichigo admitted softly as he tended to the older male. "Try to get some more sleep, you need to let your body heal. I won't let anything happen to you." It was an easy promise to make. All through the war, Shinji had been the one constant in his life that never left, not until the end.
"Not gonna ask my name?"
"Hirako Shinji, ex-Captain of the Fifth Division, Visored. You're rather famous," Ichigo answered immediately.
"I'm flattered." Shinji obviously bit back a yawn and Ichigo chuckled.
"Sleep," he raised his hand over Shinji's face as he spoke, using Tanma Otoshi to knock him out, feeling Shinji go limp in his arms.
He sighed and shifted, not willing to let go just yet and it wasn't like Shinji could complain. He'd seen the Visored fighting Byakuya, seen him losing, and he hadn't been able to stay back when he'd seen Shinji hit so hard in the chest. He hadn't killed Byakuya, but he had ensured he'd be in the Fourth for a while. He shifted to put his hand over the arm wound, using Kaidō to finish healing it now that he was sure no one would sense it. If someone found them, he'd be slowed by Shinji's unconscious body, so they had to stay hidden until Shinji was well enough to return to his base. Moving Shinji now would risk breaking the cracked ribs or driving the broken ones into his organs. Which meant if they were found, he would have to stand and fight, defend Shinji.
It was strange, to see him looking like he had before the war. Though…there were some subtle differences, the cut of his hair a slightly different style, his clothing choices different too. And there was a small scar near his ear that he didn't recognise. This really wasn't his home. So far, he didn't seem all that different, but talking when hurt and exhausted didn't reveal much. Not enough to truly make a choice from.
TBC….