A/N: Blah blah delay blah blah adulting blah blah have fun!
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NEUNUNDDREIßIG
TIMELINE X + N + 1
Tōshirō reentered Soul Society, vaguely nodded at the Kidō Corps guards at the main senkaimon, and jumped into shunpo. It was nearing eleven at night, but he knew the Captain-Commander and his lieutenant would probably still be in their office. Sure enough, the windows of the main office of First Division were lit up. He alighted in the courtyard and approached at a measured pace, clutching his time capsule notebook and the duplicate of his unique sash medallion as his mind whirled with ways to spin the situation in a way that wouldn't bring Second or Twelfth Divisions down on the magical girls.
Lieutenant Sasakibe met him in the hall outside his superior's office, having sensed his approach. The older man's aristocratic features looked troubled. He bowed slightly as Tōshirō nodded a greeting to him. Brows knit, the lieutenant said, "Good evening, Captain Hitsugaya. It is quite unusual for you to visit this late." Why are you here? was implied.
Tōshirō frowned. "I have extremely sensitive and very troubling information to report to Captain-Commander Yamamoto. I request a private audience with him at his earliest convenience."
Sasakibe matched his frown. "I will return shortly." Then he ducked into the office door and disappeared. A couple minutes ticked by while Tōshirō stared at a wall and thought. Then the lieutenant returned and ushered him in.
Tōshirō silently stood in front of his commander's desk while the old man finished writing on whatever document he had before him and Sasakibe withdrew. For once, Tōshirō was glad for the delay while Yamamoto completed his task. It let him think.
Yamamoto finally put down his brush, carefully set his papers aside, folded his hands on his desk, and looked at his youngest captain. "You have information for me, Captain Hitsugaya?"
Tōshirō snapped to attention. "Sir. I request a barrier on this room before I speak."
The old man raised his bushy eyebrows and opened his droopy eyes further. He, too, snapped alert, aware that this captain would not ask such lightly. A few silent hand gestures later, a kidō barrier encased the room to prevent eavesdropping. "Report."
"There is a situation in the World of the Living," Tōshirō began. "Though it currently has ties to Karakura and the Kurosaki family directly, it seems to be part of a wider network of predation on the souls of young girls."
Yamamoto knit his brows. "Explain."
So he did. In a clipped tone, Tōshirō laid out the basic structure of the magical girl system and the Kurosaki girls' involvement in it. Then he carefully mentioned Homura Akemi's role in approaching them and describing the parts of the system the Kurosaki girls hadn't known about— and the threat of the Incubator creating a King's Key.
The commander narrowed his eyes. "And how does this girl know all this? The existence of the King's Key is a guarded secret. This Incubator obviously takes pains to hide all the information the girl claims to have. How is she privy to such intelligence?"
Tōshirō took a deep breath. "Well, Captain-Commander..." He pursed his lips, choosing words carefully. "Akemi is... an anomaly among magical girls, I suppose. One whose abilities can be extremely useful, but potentially exploited to disastrous results if the wrong sort find out about her. She is aware of this and takes pains to obscure her most powerful ability from the Incubator. I also think Central 46 and Second Division would be... unhappy about her. And Twelfth would be overly happy about her. But her willing participation is crucial to any counter-strategy we formulate. In my opinion, that is."
Yamamoto stared hard. "She is the reason you requested the barrier."
"Yes, sir."
"Continue."
"Sir." Please be reasonable. "Akemi's wish gave her time-manipulation powers."
Yamamoto scowled fiercely. "Time-manipulation is forbidden—"
"Among shinigami," Tōshirō finished.
The old man looked furious at his interruption. "Captain Hitsugaya—!"
"Sir!" Tōshirō barked. "Please look at this objectively! Akemi is not under the authority of Soul Society. Her abilities have enabled her to gather valuable intelligence and turn back time when the Incubator succeeded at killing most of the Thirteen Divisions command structure and creating a King's Key over Karakura—"
"What?!" Yamamoto roared.
"Her description of the end of the last timeline—"
"She can time travel?!"
"Yes, sir." Tōshirō did not like the tic in the old man's eye. "Her description included what sounded like it could have been your bankai. It would make sense— all souls in Karakura consumed, Thirteen Divisions command decimated, an enemy breaking into the King's Realm, everything on fire—"
"How can you possibly believe any of this, Captain Hitsugaya?" the Captain-Commander practically spat.
Tōshirō pursed his lips— there was derision at the very idea of any of his story, yes, but that was poorly masking a military leader's dismayed anger at the prospect of sustaining such a crushing loss to an enemy he hadn't even known existed. Skeptical, but taking him seriously. He could work with that. "Sir. She demonstrated her ability to selectively halt the effects of time. As for proof of time travel..." He looked down at his notebook and ran a thumb down its spiral-bound spine. "Apparently my future self was one of the few people to know of Akemi's most powerful technique. This other me wrote... a letter of sorts. To me. His past self. Whatever." He looked up at Yamamoto, eyes serious. "It's in my own handwriting. There is no way anyone but me could possibly know some of this."
Yamamoto narrowed his eyes. "You never know what spies have overheard, Captain."
"Unless spies have learned how to observe interactions between a shinigami and their zanpakutō within their Inner World, I am quite certain that is not a viable option to explain this," Tōshirō rebutted with a stubborn scowl as he waved the notebook for emphasis.
Yamamoto was silent for a long minute, reiatsu smoldering as the solar dragon within was prodded awake. Then he breathed in deeply and forcibly exhaled from his nose with his eyes closed. He folded his hands on the desk again. "Describe the end of this... timeline."
Tōshirō recounted the last week of the previous timeline as detailed in his notebook and Akemi's testimony. The banked fire of Yamamoto's reiatsu rose up as Tōshirō spoke, his power like coals shifting and flaring as he listened to the tale of the fall of Karakura— and, essentially, the Thirteen Divisions— to Walpurgisnacht and the Incubator. Tōshirō stood firm before his commander's fury, Hyōrinmaru's icy wings enveloping their shared soul to shield him from the old man's seething dragon-flame reiatsu. The old man was silent for a long time, eyes closed as he thought. Tōshirō knew better than to disturb him.
"We were routed," Yamamoto heavily said at long last.
"Yes, sir," Tōshirō answered, voice subdued.
Yamamoto sat back and massaged his temples with one hand as he heaved a sigh. "And this... time-manipulator," he said. "You are being cautious in how you speak of her. How do you see her involvement from here on?"
"Akemi is our failsafe should we be unable to stop this enemy from achieving its goals," Tōshirō answered without hesitation. "Her alliance with us could be critical in averting disaster. We cannot afford to alienate or neutralize her."
Yamamoto sat back and squinted, eyeing his subordinate keenly. "She is an independent power." She can take steps we legally cannot.
"Yes, sir. Quite like Kisuke Urahara's group, or Ichigo Kurosaki's group." We have a collection of powerful wildcards already— what's one more? "She shows a significant degree of trust in the Kurosaki family and is... mostly cooperative with Urahara." She's not as much of a loose cannon if former captains of the Thirteen Divisions are observing her. "I think it would be wise to allow those ties to bind." If she develops trust in our allies, we could benefit from it.
Yamamoto looked sharply at his youngest captain and considered his words for several minutes before shifting topics without voicing an opinion. "Am I to presume Kisuke Urahara is investigating how the events on the final day can be explained and what can be done to prevent a repetition?"
"Yes, sir."
"Would I also be correct to presume that he requests I grant him resources above questioning by the other Divisions?"
"Yes, sir. And that I be your direct liaison. We think it would be best to keep all of this off-the-record until we know more, plus Akemi seems to have a marginal degree of trust in me. Urahara would like to initially limit her exposure to other shinigami in hope of her coming to trust me more."
The old man grunted and stared at his desk as though the solution to the situation was engraved in the grain of the wood. At length, he said, "To appease the time-manipulator into remaining cooperative if another timeline is required, I suppose?"
"Yes, sir. If Twelfth, Second, or Central 46 get to her and... to be quite frank, tear her apart looking for answers, we lose our advantage in having her as a willing ally and probably break ties with the Karakura contingent in so doing. Akemi would then have the option of turning back time and convincing the Karakura contingent to not trust or involve the Divisions in any way, leaving us with no involvement and no information about the threat."
"Hmm." Yamamoto scratched his beard and looked up at him, eyes keen. "The other Urahara advised her to get him and the Kurosaki family on her side before doing anything else, didn't he?"
"Yes, sir." Tōshirō twitched, uncertain of the old man's opinion of that maneuver. He generally did not like when subordinates or allies dodged around him. "Though apparently the other him told Akemi to scrap the plan and run straight to him as soon as she went back."
"Oh?" the Commander lifted a brow. "Yet she did not. By your own testimony, she delayed." He narrowed his eyes at the Tenth Division Captain. "She deviated from the new plan to safeguard her own survival by gathering other allies first, then revealed her information in increments designed to minimize disbelief and poor reactions." He tilted his chin. "And remained on guard while doing so, to the extent that she easily outmaneuvered the Quincy boy."
Tōshirō regretted the admission at once. It made the girl look sneaky. Or worse, defiant. "...Yes, sir."
Yamamoto stared at him and tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair. He finally settled on a reaction, nodding once and saying, "Good."
Blinking in surprise, having fully expected to have to defend the girl's actions, Tōshirō stammered, "S-sir?"
"Good," Yamamoto repeated, arching one brow. "She can think strategically, shows caution in who she trusts, and has well-established self-preservation instincts— unlike some." Some being a particular orange-haired young man. "This girl may have certain emotional challenges given her youth, but she is at least mature enough to be nuanced in her behavior and anticipate consequences. That is heartening, considering we may be at her mercy if we don't resolve this before she turns back time to a point where no one allied with us knows of her or the threat she has so much information on. It makes her less likely to be swayed by an enemy before we can notice." He leaned back. "If we are to secure her cooperation in any further timelines which may emerge, we need to give her reason to think our aid is worth seeking over any risk she perceives in so doing. She needs to see that the consequences of not having our help are more dangerous than approaching us. Preferably, she should develop an outright positive attitude toward cooperating with us. In short, Captain: Make her like us."
Tōshirō couldn't help but stare. The old man, once so set in his ways of absolute adherence to the law, was willing to bend the rules. In a cold and tactical way, yes, but still far more than he once would have gone. Kurosaki really had made a difference when he plowed through the Thirteen Divisions.
"Make no mistake, though, Captain Hitsugaya," Yamamoto said gruffly. "I view Akemi as a potential asset. Should she become a liability or a threat..." He let the sentence hang for a moment, allowing the silence to imply all manner of things. "Urahara and Shihoin may be nigh uncontrollable, but they should be able to do a proper threat assessment of the girl and overpower her if necessary. If they do not, you are to take action to protect Soul Society and the King's Realm."
Tōshirō bowed his head. "I understand, sir."
The old man nodded sharply in return. "Good. Consider yourself assigned to this case. Do not inform your lieutenant of the particulars as yet. If you require additional resources, request them of me directly. Do not speak of this on any phone line which may be monitored by Twelfth Division. Report directly to me and only to me." Yamamoto dispelled the barrier with a careless wave of one hand. "You are dismissed."
Tōshirō hurried away as quickly as was polite, already considering his options.
§ x § x §
Isshin found himself fervently grateful that Sado and Orihime were among the Kurosaki house guests. In their own ways, each had herded his shell-shocked children into a video game tournament. They hit their stride and finally became distracted enough to enjoy themselves at midnight. They were still going strong at three. He didn't have the heart to tell them to quit and go to bed— what did getting to bed at a reasonable hour matter when faced with the possibility of complete soul death? When trying not to dwell on their once-endings, on how much of their futures rode on Kisuke Urahara's intelligence and the determination of a fourteen-year-old girl? Not much, in his opinion. Let them exhaust themselves with something pleasant. At this point, he'd support anything that would chase away his girls' nightmares.
His girls.
Isshin sat at the kitchen table all night, thinking. He ran his fingers over the notebook that had been in his time capsule. Occasionally re-read particular passages and scrubbed his face with his hands. Pasted a brittle smile on his face when anyone came in for drinks or ice cream. But he spent most of his time turning two small silver objects over in his hands. One was an heirloom of sorts he usually kept safe in his nightstand: the first true Quincy cross charm bracelet his late wife had received when she was ten years old. A relic of the old Kurosaki line— the same Quincy cross a teenage Masaki had used to save his life so many years ago. Holding it was a comfort to him in his wife's absence. He had become familiar with every millimeter of the charm and its chain since her death. Every scratch, every dent, every scuff. The other item had been enclosed in his time capsule: an exact replica of Masaki's one-of-a-kind talisman.
Sighing deeply, Isshin said, "Ah, Masaki." He looked up at the poster of her joyous face. "I wish you were here to help us through this." Isshin stared at the poster with an unfocused gaze, rolling the twin Quincy crosses in his hands like rosaries as he tried to think.
The noise in the house gradually tapered down into quiet as the teenagers fell asleep one by one. Still, he kept his vigil. Having heard the story and read his other self's version, he had no illusions that he would find anything but nightmares of shattering rubies and being unable to revive his daughters. Of his Yuzu, doll-sized perhaps, dressed up like a dead princess inside Karin's bare rib cage.
On that note, it had been quite thoughtful of Homura to omit that detail from what she told his girls. He half wished his other self hadn't written of it. But then, it helped stoke a limitless rage deep within him. That was probably his other self's intent. Anyway, he liked the girl's withholding. It spoke of concern and empathy to him. His other self was right— Homura was very restrained in how she displayed emotion, but it was there if you bothered to look for it.
Isshin was surprised when Homura padded into the kitchen just before five with an empty glass. She looked equally surprised to see him. Homura blinked a few times and looked at the open notebook on the table.
"Ah, I am sorry to interrupt you," she murmured. "I thought you were asleep."
Isshin grinned wryly. "No problem. I probably should be sleeping. Then again, so should you."
The girl slightly twisted her lips to one side. "Probably." She just stood in the doorway and stared. "Excuse me," she said as she began to withdraw.
"No," Isshin said firmly, straightening in his seat. The girl turned back to him in surprise. "No," he repeated. "Please come in. Sit."
"Ah, I was just a bit thirsty—"
"Water or tea or what?" Isshin asked as he stood.
"That really will not be necessary," Homura objected.
Isshin looked at her. "Please, sit. Water, tea, soda...?"
Homura hesitated, then carefully approached the table. "Just water is fine."
"Right," Isshin said as he took her glass, filled it, and returned to the table. Homura accepted her glass with a murmured thanks but stared at him uncertainly. He sat and stared calmly back as she kept her eyes on him while she sipped. It was like convincing a skittish deer to eat from your hand without fleeing. Isshin was also distinctly reminded of the wary faces his girls made when he called for a family meeting out of the blue.
His girls.
"The other me wrote about you," Isshin began with a nod to his notebook. "About things he wanted to say to you."
Homura's cautious expression shuttered into aloofness. "I do not presume to expect you to think of me the same way as your other self. It would be unfair to you," she said without affectation.
"Ah, so I did talk to you," Isshin said with a faint smile.
The magical girl pursed her lips. "Yes. But as I said—"
"Thank you."
Homura drew up short and blinked in surprise. "I'm sorry?"
"I said thank you," Isshin repeated earnestly. "Thank you for taking on the project of saving my girls. You should be the last person responsible for their well-being but for whatever reason, you opted to take on that burden when the ones you carry are already so heavy. So thank you."
Homura's lips curved into a troubled frown as she sat back. "I deserve no thanks. My time travel in itself has saved no one. The situation with Walpurgisnacht and the Incubator— this King's Key— It is not selfless."
"I understand you have bigger fish to fry," Isshin said with a dismissive wave. "You decided to contact us before that... that apocalyptic mess." He steepled his fingers together and peered at her appraisingly. "If I— and that other me— if I'm right, you've been burned by seeking help in the past. It was brave of you to agree to this even before you knew how much it involves the shinigami. So thank you." He stared directly into her eyes. "My household will always be open to you. In any timeline. Just give me the notebook again."
Homura flushed and floundered about a bit, then looked down at her water. "I— I don't deserve any thanks," she insisted.
"Stop saying that," Isshin said with a disapproving frown. "You stumbled your way into the most thankless of jobs and you're trying your best. Have been trying your best past the point where even a lot of adults would have given up. That's admirable. So thank you."
Cheeks pink, Homura was quiet for a long time. "You're— you're welcome?" she said uncertainly.
Isshin grinned tiredly and stood. "Thatta girl," he said proudly. He reached over the table and ruffled her hair. She squeaked and looked up at him in owlish surprise. As he walked past her, he paused to lightly clasp her shoulder. "Fill your cup and go crash with the rest of the hooligans. I'm going to bed. We both need to sleep." He tapped her forehead with one finger. "You gave that sharp brain of yours a real workout today, Miss Social Strategist. Go give it a rest. Good night. Morning. Whatever."
Isshin could feel her confused stare at his back as he disappeared up the stairs.
§ x § x §
The teenagers had crashed hard and didn't start waking up until noon. Yuzu dragged Karin into the kitchen to make brunch. Ichigo hastily insisted guests not help, eyes darting to Orihime with something near fear. His other two friends agreed. Odd. The older teens blearily tried to engage Homura in conversation. She was curled up in the corner of the couch with a blanket over her shoulders, blinking at them drowsily and mostly staring, but occasionally gave brief answers. Then Yuzu came back and announced brunch with a wan smile. Everyone stood.
Ishida smoothed his rumpled clothes. "I need to go do some research."
Yuzu directed her smile at him. "Please stay for brunch."
"Ah, I need to try to finish before Urahara finishes his—"
"You can't study on an empty stomach." The brunette's smile intensified. "Please stay for brunch."
"...Right. Brunch," Uryū stammered, cowed.
Isshin was sitting at the table when they entered. He nodded at them as they sat down. The meal was awkward, stilted attempts at idle chitchat failing until Karin finally gave up on talking about mundane things.
"So, Homura," she began curiously. "How much stuff fits in that shield of yours?"
Homura blinked slowly and peered at her strangely. "I have yet to find a limit."
"Wait, seriously?" asked Ichigo.
"Yes."
"Cool," Karin said. She leaned forward. "So, what, it's like a black hole in a bag? A bottomless pit?" She looked at her brother. "Ichi-nii, can Urahara make me something that does the same thing? Maybe a backpack?"
Ichigo knit his brows. "Why?"
"Just think of all the soccer equipment I could carry!"
After a long, deadpan stare, her brother said, "I should have known you would say that."
Karin rolled her eyes and turned back to Homura. "What kind of stuff do you carry in it?"
Homura shifted a bit uncomfortably. She didn't want to make things serious again by bringing up her arsenal. "Ah, a bit of everything, really."
"Ah! Your suitcase!" Yuzu said with sudden understanding. "You didn't have one when we brought you home but you had one that night. Is that where it was?"
Homura nodded quietly.
Ishida narrowed his eyes, considering. "Is the suitcase bigger across than your shield?"
Homura stared at him, face blank, and did not reply. She was not liking his scrutiny this time around.
Karin answered for her with a popping "Yep!"
The Quincy hummed thoughtfully. "Is there a size limit on what you can store?"
Homura turned her attention to her plate, ignoring his question in favor of the remaining fruit. Ishida opened his mouth but Isshin caught his eye and made a small gesture to stop pressing her. The Quincy pursed his lips and pushed his glasses up his nose.
The Kurosaki family really was an excellent shield.
Karin picked up the thread of conversation and ran in a less serious direction. "The important question is: Do you have a kitchen sink in there?"
"No." Homura tilted her head in confusion. "Why would I?"
Fingers drumming together and grinning fiendishly, Karin answered, "You need to put a kitchen sink in your shield. Need to. Any time someone asks if you have a kitchen sink, you will break their brains if you haul one out for them."
Homura thought of the several times Kyōko had said to her Holy shit, you keep everything but the kitchen sink in there! "Ah." Her brows knit. "Why would I want to?"
Ichigo snorted and Isshin grinned faintly, though he looked a bit sad. Sado's lips twitched in amusement. Karin looked appalled. "Because it's funny. Duh."
"Oh." Jokes weren't really her strong suit.
Ishida disappeared after the meal. Ichigo and Sado washed dishes as Karin coaxed all the teens into agreeing to play soccer one by one. It didn't take much effort as everyone wanted a distraction anyway. Hitsugaya joined them halfway to the park, walking toward them from Urahara Shop in a gigai and modern clothing and looking like he hadn't slept much. They had been playing for an hour when Karin's friends showed up.
"Heyyy, Kurosaki!" one of the boys shouted. "The teacher said you were really sick!"
"You don't look sick to me," another called suspiciously.
Karin glared at them. "Snitches get stitches, Ryohei."
The boys shuddered and shuffled awkwardly. One of them muttered, "It must be great to have a doctor willing to lie for you for a dad."
"What? I couldn't hear you," Karin said loudly, twisting a pinkie finger in one ear. Probably a lie, Homura thought, since she had heard it clearly herself. It must be one of the things Karin did for fun. Seeing them squirm was a bit amusing.
The boys joined their game. Though they were usually rather clueless, apparently they picked up on the edgy distraction of everyone else playing because they would give each other uncomfortable glances as the afternoon wore on.
The sky was dimming into early twilight when Ichigo's cell phone shrilled out Isshin's annoying ringtone. Everyone but Karin's friends were suddenly alert. Ichigo answered, spoke with his father and hung up. He looked around at all the faces keenly watching him for some clue as to whether it was bad news. He awkwardly scratched the back of his head and glanced at Karin's friends before calling out, "Hey, Dad said Urahara's invited us over for dinner before we go back to the condo. Homura's staying at the house so she can come, but, uh, you boys... there's no room for you, sorry. It's gonna be a tight fit as it is."
The boys looked dismayed.
"Dinner at the candy shop?!"
"How?!"
Karin folded her arms behind her head and feigned nonchalance. "Didn't I ever tell you my old man is buddies with the Candy Man?" By the affronted looks on the boys' faces, the answer was a resounding no.
"What?!"
"No way!"
"Awwww!"
"You get to do all the cool things, Karin!"
Karin held herself straighter and preened. "Of course I do. I'm awesome."
Yuzu laughed halfheartedly and Hitsugaya pinched the bridge of his nose with a deep sigh.
Homura, cheeks still pink with exertion as she breathed deeply, just turned toward the shop and started walking. She wanted this over with as quickly as possible.
She had a Witch hunt to lead.
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This chapter was replaced with an edited version on November 1, 2019. Reviews with timestamps before that date refer to a slightly different version of the chapter.