A/N: I didn't really want to release this until I had more than the next chapter written for Reasons, but I feel badly about how long it's been since I posted. I've been having difficulty writing for a number of real-world and health reasons that have been dragging me down and it frustrates me.

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EINUNDSECHZIG

TIMELINE X + N + 1

Later that afternoon, Mami sat on the edge of the veranda in the shop's inner courtyard and tried to settle her confused thoughts. So far, all she had accomplished was downshifting from laser-focused anger into nebulous distress. Watching the koi lazily swimming in the pond was soothing, so she tried to focus on that. If she could just settle on one topic, maybe her world would stop wobbling on its axis. That topic may as well be fish swimming in circles without a care in the world.

A hysterical laugh tried to rise in her throat, but she clamped down on it. She was jealous of fish. Fish.

"Here."

Mami looked up. Hitsugaya stood nearby, holding out a small paper bag. Curious, Mami took it and peered inside. Some kind of pellets.

"Fish food," he explained without being asked. "I recommend throwing some on one side, then the other. Make them chase it. May as well make them work for your attention."

A smile tugged at her lips. "Thank you."

He solemnly nodded at her. "Can I get you anything?"

"No, thank you. I'm fine."

"All right. Call me if you think of anything." Hitsugaya turned and stepped away.

Mami's breath caught in sudden panic and she reached after him. "Wait! Stay!"

Hitsugaya stopped and glanced at her over his shoulder, surprised.

Cheeks burning, Mami mumbled, "I mean—! I— I don't want to be alone."

The boy's face relaxed into sympathy and he returned to her, paused, and sat an arm's length away from her. Mami fretted for a moment, then placed the paper bag on the wooden slats between them. Hitsugaya looked at her curiously, then grabbed a handful of fish food and settled facing the pond. They wordlessly eased into a pattern in which one of them threw food on one side of the pond, they both waited for the fish to eat it, and the other one threw food on the other side of the pond. Mami half expected him to try to... actually, she didn't know what. Get her to talk? But he didn't. He was just... present.

She didn't know how much time had passed; just that the sunlight was more orange than yellow and the paper bag was more than half empty when she hesitantly asked, "Can I... think out loud with you?"

A brief flash of teal as he glanced at her. "Of course," he said agreeably.

Mami took a deep breath and tried to decide where to start. "So. Kyu— the Incubator. He— it... took my soul out of my body?"

"Yeah," Hitsugaya answered.

She looked down at her ring and made her Soul Gem flash and turn into its egg form with a thought. She looked at the yellow stone and slowly said, "This... is my... my soul?"

"Yes."

Mami forced herself to take several deep breaths. "When my soul is too far away from my body, they... separate? I mean... And I lose consciousness?"

"Yeah."

"The Incubator did this to me in exchange for a wish... so I would fight Witches." After a pause, she added, "For it. But why?"

After a moment of quiet, Hitsugaya prompted, "What does it get when you defeat a Witch?"

"A Grief Seed," Mami answered immediately. "It... eats them. It gave me a wish to... pay for? ...me collecting Grief Seeds for it to eat."

Hitsugaya sighed heavily. "Yeah."

Mami turned toward him and considered his troubled face as he cast more fish food into the pond. "There's more, isn't there? Another reason it does this?"

He didn't look at her. "Yeah."

She could tell that she wouldn't get more out of him on that front, so she went quiet for a bit. Her Soul Gem was warm in her palm. Mami rolled it around morosely and finally said, "Am I even human anymore? Am I— am I just a... haunted rock?"

Hitsugaya choked and coughed, probably trying not to laugh. He did an admirable job of it, but it was obvious.

"That... came out really strangely, didn't it?" Mami asked with an embarrassed laugh.

"Yeah," he said as he fought a smirk. "I get what you mean, though." Hitsugaya looked directly at her and firmly said, "You are human. Your soul is human. It has an unusual form now, but it's still a recognizably human soul." He paused and looked thoughtful, then slowly said, "It is not unheard of for a human's soul to... leave the body, you know. Without dying, I mean. Rare, but not unheard of."

Mami looked at him in surprise. "Really?"

"Really."

"Astral projection is real?"

He blinked slowly, nonplussed. "I... guess you could call it that?"

"Can you do it?"

"...Uh."

All right, now she was really interested. Hitsugaya noticed; he grimaced and looked away. She couldn't help but smile at him. "You didn't mean to reveal that, did you?"

His cheeks went pink and he muttered something unintelligible.

"Why don't you want that known?"

Hitsugaya blew out a deep breath and scrubbed his hands through his hair. "It's... I guess you could call it a high-level technique. Spiritual power— magic— is stronger without having to go through a body. Like a... filter, I guess. If the Incubator knew I was capable of leaving my body to fight... Well, we don't know what it might do. Considering how it reacts to Akemi, it might find a way to convince other magical girls I'm a threat and try to take me out with a mob or something."

"O— oh." Mami could feel the blood drain from her face as she had a vivid mental image of him cornered by other magical girls she knew of working together as a team for once to fight a common 'enemy'. Before this week, she could have been one of them. Could have trapped him in ribbons while Kyōko and Nonon and others—

"So I keep it as a last resort for if I get pushed into a corner by something that could destroy my soul. After all—" he gave her a wry look— "my empty body would be just laying there, vulnerable. A lot of spiritual predators don't give a damn about empty bodies, but the Incubator is smart enough that it could direct a magical girl to destroy it." After a thoughtful pause, he continued, "If it comes down to staying in my body and having my soul destroyed or leaving my body and having my body destroyed while my soul survives, I'll take the latter. But I'd rather not have to make that call." The boy searched her face for a moment then solemnly added, "Please don't tell anyone I can do that. Akemi knows, but the other girls do not."

"I won't. I promise," Mami said quickly.

Hitsugaya nodded and turned back to the pond. "Anyway, back to your situation. I think... the Incubator not telling you what it would do before it did it was a deep violation. For all its victims. It'll say it got agreement for the exchange but... by not giving all the details, I think that contract should be invalid. There's no..." He gestured vaguely after throwing some fish food, frowning hard and grasping for words. "I think the legal term is informed consent. If you agree to a deal, you can't make a real choice if you don't have all the information about it, yeah?"

"Mm." Mami let her Soul Gem turn back into a ring and refilled her hand from the bag of pellets. She threw more out when it was her turn, thinking aloud. "Even knowing that... doesn't change that my soul is... I don't know. Deformed?"

"Is not," Hitsugaya scoffed as though offended at the very notion.

Mami looked down and mumbled, "Maybe 'mutilated' is a better word."

"Nothing is... 'deformed' or 'mutilated' about your soul."

"My soul is a rock," Mami argued dully.

"A gemstone," Hitsugaya corrected.

"What's the difference?" Mami asked, her voice cracking as she tried not to cry.

"Gemstones are beautiful, obviously," he said as casually as declaring water wet. "Yours looks like, what, amber? Topaz? Something precious."

Mami stared. Hitsugaya threw his fish food and waited for her to take her turn, not looking at her. Eventually, he noticed that she wasn't taking her turn and looked at her sideways. She was still staring at him in surprise. He furrowed his brow in confusion.

"What? What is it?"

"Did— did you just—?" Mami hesitated, then continued with a wobbly voice, "Did you just say my soul is... beautiful?"

Hitsugaya's entire body froze. His mouth dropped open and he stared at her with widening eyes as his face flushed. He made a strangled sound and looked torn between embarrassment, worry, and panic.

"Oh, my."

Ears going red and face contorting into horror, Hitsugaya joined Mami in turning to their left and saw his uncle standing in a doorway, eyes twinkling merrily as he hid the rest of his face behind his fan.

"I was going to call you to dinner but perhaps I should leave you for a bit," Mr. Urahara cooed.

"It's not—! It isn't—!" Even Hitsugaya's neck was going red now.

"I'm terribly sorry for interrupting your romantic moment."

"It wasn't romantic!" Hitsugaya screeched.

Mami couldn't help it. Bright laughter burst from her lips. Hitsugaya whirled to look at her incredulously. It was too funny. She laughed so hard she cried and gasped for breath. Every time she thought she had herself under control, she took one glance at Hitsugaya's baffled and mortified expression, his uncle's glee, and just lost it all over again.

"Ahhh, you make her so happy, my darling nephew! You two are truly blessed!"

"What?!"

"Look at that smile! You put it there! That laughter like music! How charming!"

"I didn't—! What?!"

Mr. Urahara waved his fan at them in a shooing motion. "You two have fun. Make sure she comes up for air now and then, Tōshirō!"

"What is that supposed to— what?!"

"I mean the laughter, of course, you naughty boy~! You're too young for that kind of kissing~!"

"WHAT?!"

And Mr. Urahara disappeared into the house with a clatter of geta and an "Ohohohoho~!"

Mami held a hand over her mouth, centered herself, took a deep breath through her nose, and looked at Hitsugaya. He was the very picture of overwhelmed dismay as Mami's giggles triumphed and he slowly lowered his face into his hands.

§ x § x §

Ichigo woke early on Monday and had a quiet chat with his father as they cooked breakfast before the girls woke. They went quiet when the girls' reiatsu approached and looked at the doorway, where the three stopped and blearily looked in at them. Adorable.

Snap!

Everyone turned to Isshin, who was shoving his phone back in his pocket with glee.

"The hell you take our picture for, Goat Face?" Karin snarled. She self-consciously reached up to pat her hair, then grimaced at the mess she felt.

"To add to the family album!" Isshin gushed. "It needs more pictures of you three together! And you're all so cute when you're sleepy!"

Karin rolled her eyes, but Homura stared at Isshin, eyes wide in her otherwise blank face.

Yuzu pouted and rubbed her eyes. "I could've made breakfast."

"You get a day off," Ichigo said with a little grin.

"We get a day off school, too, right?" Karin asked as she flopped into a chair at the table.

"Nope," Ichigo and his father said at the same time. Ichigo continued, "Better eat fast and get dressed."

"What?!" Karin cried, finally provoked into full alertness. She looked offended. "Why not?!"

"We've missed too much lately," Yuzu sighed as she took her own place.

Karin's face twisted into childish objection. "Homura gets to miss school!"

Isshin pointed a serving spoon at Homura, who was still staring at him from the doorway. "Homura has a heart condition on file. They expect her to miss school."

"You're a doctor," Karin very nearly whined. "Lie about us!"

"Nope!" Isshin sang.

"Why not?! You've done it before!"

"Not in the mood," Isshin said lightly.

"But I want to hang out with Homura!"

"You can hang out with her after school," Isshin said firmly. "Let your brother have a chance to spend time with her."

"Wait, Ichi-nii gets to skip school?!" Karin shrilled. "Why?!"

"Because I'm older," Ichigo said with a teasing smirk designed to piss off his sister. "I get to play lazy college student. They don't care if I don't show up as long as they get paid and I turn in my classwork."

"No fair!"

Ichigo laughed at her obnoxiously. His sister scowled and looked for something to throw at him, but the table was empty. She glared at him and stewed in her frustration.

"Come sit down, Homura," Yuzu beckoned with a little wave of her hand.

Homura was still standing in the doorway, wide eyes staring at all of them now. Girl really needed to get it through her head that she was an honorary Kurosaki. A dubious honor, maybe, but pretty much unavoidable now.

"Is there something on my face, Stopwatch?" Ichigo asked loudly, then made a show of feeling around his face. His father mimicked him with the addition of a ridiculously worried facial expression.

"Ah— I— ah— no," the girl stammered. Homura looked lost for a moment, leaned forward as though to take a step, pulled back in hesitation, canted her head to one side to look at them all like they were utterly baffling, then haltingly approached the table.

Ichigo cajoled Homura into coming with as they accompanied the sisters to their school. Karin grumbled and bitched the whole way, but Ichigo thought it was mostly for show. He couldn't tell whether or not Homura realized that. He stood with Homura and waved the twins off, then turned to her when they disappeared. "Coffee?"

Homura stared up at him with that now-familiar expression of caution, head tilted so her long hair cascaded over her shoulder, still wavy from its night in a braid. "All right," she said eventually.

Ichigo ruffled her hair with a grin and waved her to follow. "Come on. I know just the place."

His past self's notebook had mentioned something like this. Specific café hadn't been mentioned— that "him" had passed on a largely rambling scrawl of jumbled thoughts which told him volumes about how badly things had gone— but Ichigo would bet it was his usual favorite. Overnight, he had debated whether or not to go to the same place— he didn't want to look like he was following a blueprint or something— but decided to go there again anyway. Make sure to mention it was his favorite in case another "him" had to do this. Ichigo hoped that wouldn't be necessary, but his father had said Urahara's bet was on more repetitions. It was infuriating, really. Ichigo didn't want Homura to have to reset at all, but if she did, he wished he could go with her. That they could all go with her. It wasn't fucking fair to send her back alone to strangers with familiar faces. And so he had decided that if he couldn't follow her, he'd make damn sure every other "him" would be able to pick up where he left off. Establish some kind of routine or tradition for all of "him" to give Homura some measure of constancy.

And here he was, thinking of himself in the third person plural and making perfect sense. His life was many things but it would never be dull.

Ichigo had already filled an entire notebook with both a more coherent proof of authorship and painstaking details about everything that happened when he interacted with Homura, what he thought about her behavior, and what others said about her. It felt super stalkery, but he needed to learn more about her to pass down if Homura got reticent again. He thought he had laid a decent foundation for the next "him," but he needed more. So he asked Zangetsu to help him remember little things to write down later. Little preferences and tastes like he knew about his sisters— material for another "him" to make small gestures of inclusion to her.

So. Homura liked two pumps of almond syrup in her iced coffee— easy on the ice. She liked Almond Crush Pocky. She liked chocolate syrup on her vanilla ice cream, but not very much of it. She preferred water to soda and bun cha over pho. If she borrowed clothes from the twins, she leaned more toward Yuzu's closet than Karin's. She didn't seem very enthusiastic about playing video games, but she was content to watch others play. She enjoyed soccer— wasn't as obsessed as Karin, but was capable of being just as intense in the moment. She observed Yuzu's cooking intently, as though trying to learn. She listened more than she spoke. She eyed the rest of them oddly when the family got wild while they ate— something between what the hell is happening, I don't know you people, and I am judging you— and had impeccable manners. She willingly subjected herself to hell for her best friend's sake. She had an easy friendship with Karin and Yuzu, wavered between welcome and wariness of Isshin, demonstrated a decent degree of respect for Tōshirō, and was pissed at Urahara's games. She had deep curiosity and a subtle sense of humor, even though a lot of humor seemed to fly right over her head. She hated being denied information or being interfered with without warning.

It wasn't enough, but it was something.

Ichigo led Homura to his usual thinking-bench by the river and noted that she hesitated before sitting, choosing a spot not quite all the way to the opposite end of the bench. He waited her out, thinking of a group text he had received from Tōshirō noting that he had managed to have a decently long conversation with her by minimizing eye contact and not pressuring her to speak. So he relaxed, sipping his coffee and watching the soothing eddies of water and light playing in the river until the girl stopped shifting uncomfortably and settled in her seat.

"So. I'm not stupid enough to start with how are you doing, since you're obviously not doing well," Ichigo began.

"Obviously," Homura muttered darkly.

Ichigo ignored it. "So I'm just gonna jump straight to I know how shitty it is when an enemy swoops in from nowhere and fucks with your friends while you're trying to figure out what the hell is going on at the same time you're trying to get stronger to protect them. It's a really, really shitty feeling I wouldn't wish on anyone. Screws with your head." He calmly sipped his coffee, not looking at the girl though he was very aware of her stare.

"What makes you think you know?" she asked slowly.

So he told her about the entire Xcution debacle a year past. How the monotony of his powerless existence was broken by the arrival of the Xcution Fullbringers and their offer of training in a new power. How Ishida had been mysteriously attacked, the looming threat of Tsukishima, Ichigo's desperate struggle to master his Fullbring and be useful again, the horror of realizing Tsukishima had interfered with everyone's memories to make them think he was a faithful ally who had been by their sides through all their struggles in spiritual matters. The sheer confusion and paranoia of it all, of people Ichigo cared about having radically different memories from his, making him question his own sanity. His friendship with Ginjō, which ended with a stab from Tsukishima's Book of the End memory-altering blade and the revelation that the entire Xcution crew had gone so far as to have their memories of plotting against Ichigo altered to make their act perfect, cultivating his powers to steal them. How he had literally cried in despair in the rain at the second loss of his ability to fight until Urahara showed up with that brilliant sword of light containing whispers of the reiatsu of so many of his shinigami comrades, all sweeping through him to rekindle his power. The dramatic reappearance of Thirteen Divisions leadership to fight at his side again. Riruka throwing herself between Ichigo and Tsukishima's last desperate attack. The bittersweet victory.

It was a long story and took a long time to deliver, but Homura sat through the entire thing in rapt attention. Her only interruptions were requests to define spiritual terms new to her. He was pretty sure she'd be asking others for clarification later because that was the sort of explanation he had trouble with. They sat in companionable silence for a long while after. When Homura finally spoke, it was not to question the basis of his empathy.

"It all sounds very... Shakespearean," she commented. "Themes of identity, illusion, conspiracy, betrayal..."

Ichigo burst out laughing. "I'd never thought of it that way before!" He laughed so hard he had to wipe tears from his eyes. "Oh, God, it applies to the start of the Winter War, too. I need to tell Ishida. He thinks Shakespeare has little relevance to modern times. It's all lit nerd hype, or something." He laughed again at the look on Homura's face and poked her forehead. "You're pretty Shakespearean too, you know."

Homura frowned in a way that came damn near pouting and batted his hand away. "Am not," she groused.

"Are you kidding? You burst onto the scene all—" he threw his arms into a dramatic pose to gesture with his coffee cup and raised his chin to speak skyward in a lofty voice, switching to English— "My lord, I have remembrances of yours That I have longèd long to redeliver! I pray you now receive them!"

Her eyes and mouth went wide in surprise. She blinked rapidly, then looked at him askance. "Ophelia?"

Ichigo couldn't help it. He perked up like an eager puppy. "You know Hamlet?! In English?!"

Homura ignored him and looked appalled. "You are comparing me to Ophelia?!"

"That line fits! You came in and gave us our mementos—"

"Ophelia literally lost her mind and drowned in despair," Homura said in disgust.

"...Oh." Well, fuck. That wasn't where he had wanted this conversation to go. "You... don't do that, okay?"

She rolled her eyes powerfully and looked away. Bitterly, she said, "A Shakespearean tragedy suits me, I suppose."

"No. Comedy," Ichigo immediately argued.

She gave him another incredulous look. "My life may be a cosmic joke but it certainly isn't a funny one."

"No, no, comedy in the old-timey meaning," Ichigo said with a placating wave of his arms. "You know— a stage play with a happy ending. Or just... anything serious with a happy ending, like Dante's Divine Comedy. Though... that usage kinda predates Shakespeare. People in his day may have said tragicomedy."

"What?"

Somehow, he ended up passionately babbling to her about the history of tragedy and comedy. The weird looks she gave him made him awkwardly delve deeper and move into Shakespeare until her face was equal parts bewildered and interested and he couldn't stop rambling why couldn't he stop rambling.

"How do you know all this?" Homura finally asked.

"I'm aiming for a degree in Western literature," Ichigo explained. "I've been fascinated by Shakespeare since I was a kid. Found an old dual-language edition in my mom's things when I was ten and started working it out myself. I figure I'm gonna have a ton of responsibility and spend a lot of time in offices and on battlefields once I become a shinigami full time, so I should do something fun for the rest of my... physical life, or whatever." He grinned. "I'm planning to throw in some pol sci, military history, business administration, and sports science or coaching to use after death. My resumé is going to be ridiculous."

"Oh."

"How do you know Shakespeare?" Ichigo asked curiously.

Homura looked down at her empty cup. "My mother was... fond... of theater. Ballet, opera, plays." He waited for her to continue, staying quiet as she fidgeted. "She... wanted me to be able to get out of the house. Have fun, see people. Since I couldn't go to school to make friends, or play sports, or... do much of anything physical, really. She took me to opera houses and theaters a couple times a week, if I was well enough. Then I could recover from the walk to our seats while being entertained for a few hours by whatever was on stage. If I was unwell, she would watch videos with me or help me read the plays." She morosely watched her hands picking at the rim of the paper cup until it ripped, then slowly tore the rim off in one long strip with nimble fingers. "Besides Japanese, my mother... was fluent in English, French, and Russian. She was trying to learn Italian to better understand opera when she... died. She wanted to expose me to many languages."

It struck Ichigo that sharing this was probably a huge step for her. He couldn't fuck this up. Absolutely could not afford to. "Did you pick up all those languages from her?"

She glanced at him, then to the river. Ichigo turned back to the river as well.

"To a degree," Homura said quietly. "Mostly English and French."

Ichigo grinned. "At least they both use the same alphabet."

Homura didn't speak, but made a quiet sound of amusement.

Awesome. Ichigo grinned wider and said, "So you like Shakespeare's plays?"

"I suppose. Mostly as context," Homura answered. "The dialogue can be tiresome. I prefer the ballets."

Ichigo blinked in surprise and looked at her again. "There are ballets of Shakespeare's plays?"

"Of course. Some of the musical accompaniment is quite well-known out of context." Homura turned to him and arched an eyebrow. "After all you said, I thought you would be familiar with everything Shakespeare."

Ichigo's cheeks burned and he laughed awkwardly. "Apparently not." He scrubbed at his scalp self-consciously and said, "Ballets don't have talking, right? So how do they tell the story?"

Homura shifted to angle her entire body more in his direction and looked at him directly, face intense in the way of someone seriously knowledgeable of a subject feeling compelled to share— as he had probably been. "There is a great deal of pantomime involved in the classics. There is also significance in the chosen choreography. For example, the sequence of thirty-two fouettés performed by Odile in Swan Lake are a feat of endurance and ostentatious effort to impress and seduce Prince Siegfried. Also, particular instruments in a score may be used to represent different characters, such as Tchaikovsky's Romeo and Juliet Overture-Fantasy using the English horn to represent Romeo and the flute to represent Juliet. When all of these factors are combined, it is possible to tell a detailed story through silent dance. The plays with dialogue are useful for context and further depth to the ballets."

Ichigo stared at her the same way she had stared at him. "So like... musical charades?"

Homura looked hilariously offended.

"Just kidding." Another wide grin slowly overtook his face. "Oh, man, I need you to teach me how to interpret Shakespeare ballets. You're amazing."

She stiffened in surprise. Cheeks flushed, she turned away from him again and stammered, "It is a simple matter of mem— memorizing hand gestures, dance steps, and noticing the coincidence of musical motifs with particular dancers."

"Nah, I think it's more than that. But even just that would be awesome," Ichigo argued. "You're a step above me. We both know that screwy old Shakespearean English, but you learned an entire other language to appreciate another version of the same things. I have some studying to do."

Homura squirmed, tried to wring her hands, and settled for tearing her paper cup more. Apparently, she was awkward about receiving compliments.

Ichigo leaned back in a sprawl on the back of the bench, twirling his own empty cup by the tips of his fingers. "You like ballet a lot, huh?"

"Yes," she bit out, still looking away from him.

"So, you dance?"

Homura's body and reiatsu went rigid and Ichigo cursed himself for however he had just misstepped.

"No," she said with complete lack of emotion. "Dance is an extremely strenuous physical activity. My health would not permit it."

"...Oh." Fuck fuck fuck. He'd depressed her. Fix it fix it fix it! "But you're healthy now, right? I mean, you can play soccer without having a heart attack now, right?"

"Yes."

"So you can dance now!"

"No," Homura snapped. "I do not have the time or energy to waste to dedicate to such a frivolous activity."

Brr. But he could understand the attitude— she was as focused on saving her Madoka as he had once been on saving Rukia, Orihime, his family. So he wouldn't argue against that priority. But how could he work with that...? "Right. Then... I know! That can be the last scene of your comedy."

She was startled into turning back to him to give him a look that declared you have lost your mind. "What?"

"The happy ending for your play," Ichigo explained. "When all the magical spirit bullshit is over and you finally have a lot of downtime, you can dance. Be a ballerina in your epilogue."

Homura's mouth dropped open into an O of surprise.

"Be forewarned— Dad will take tons of pictures and cry at your recitals," Ichigo said with a triumphant grin. Homura just stared, mouth working without sound. He was quite pleased with himself for making her speechless for a good reason for once.

Finally, she cut her eyes away from him and went for a graceless change of subject. "Why are you doing this? You dragged me out here to talk about Sōju and Tomoe and Urahara, didn't you?" she said gruffly.

Ah, he'd spooked her by getting too close to an old wound. He'd count it as a win, though— she had gotten far more personal with him than he had expected before their conversation detoured. Ichigo wondered if Rukia had felt something like this in the aftermath of learning the details of his mother's death.

Satisfied by progress, Ichigo didn't rise to the bait of Homura's confrontational tone. He just shrugged and said, "I don't recall dragging you anywhere."

Homura dropped what was left of her cup and clenched her fists.

"And I thought we were having a pretty pleasant conversation. As friends do."

"But why?" she demanded.

"Why is it surprising that I would want to get to know you better?"

"No one really wants to know me."

"Liar," he drawled. Then he looked at her askance, thoughtful. "Or do you really not know?"

She turned back to him with a scowl. "I would know better than anyone," she argued.

"I really don't think you do," Ichigo said. "You try not to let people get close to you. And you keep getting pissed off lately because you've been slipping and letting people get close to you again. Or closer, at least."

And now he'd gone and pissed her off with his bluntness. Furious, Homura snapped, "What would you have me do?! I lose either way. If I avoid making ties until I know a timeline is a success, I ruin potential relationships. If I make ties hoping a timeline will be the last, it explodes in my face when I reset to a time before those ties were forged. I can't win!" Voice raising in anger, she lifted and shook her hands in a motion pantomiming both grabbing her head to shake it and begging in frustration. "What would you have me do?!"

He met her pained eyes seriously. "Admit it hurts you instead of pretending it's... just an inconvenience to whatever plans you make. Let yourself be pissed off that it isn't fair."

"What purpose would that serve?!"

"You can be pissed off at circumstances instead of snapping at your friends, for one. And you can turn around and use that pain to push you forward— toward defying and defeating the cause instead of the... bystanders. If you just ignore it and bottle it up, it'll eventually sneak up on you and bite you. Probably at the worst possible time. The surprise will make it hurt more. It'll pop up and drag you backward. You'll lose hard-won ground." Ichigo tilted his head and went quiet for a moment, listening to Zangetsu's unexpected commentary. He slowly continued, "My zanpakutō spirit says this... thing... to me when I'm feeling defeated or hopeless. 'Abandon your fear. Look forward. Move forward and never stop. You'll age if you pull back. You'll die if you hesitate.'"

Homura glared at him with incredulous confusion, then looked defiant. "Stopping and going backward are the basis of my powers."

"Nah," Ichigo said with a wave. "You're looking at it wrong. You stop everyone else, not yourself. And you don't go backward, you loop."

Her face twisted in bafflement. "What difference does that make?"

"You can go forward by going backward."

"What."

Ichigo gestured vaguely as he cast about for some way to explain what made sense as he envisioned it in his head. "Think like... you're running on a racetrack. You know, one of those oval ones with the two straight sides? When you loop around the far side, you're technically going the opposite direction of how you started, right? But you're still moving forward. It's, like... a matter of perspective. Or something." He shrugged lightly. "Unless you allow it to be the other way. Stopping yourself and pushing yourself back, I mean. Reversing to the starting line instead of lapping that line and going farther."

Homura wavered uncertainly. In his head, Zangetsu was silent but pleased.

"As for not being able to win," Ichigo continued, "my zanpakutō always tells me that can only happen when you despair and cease to walk forward. So keep moving forward. Try to look at each loop as... instead of... no. Uh." He scratched his head. "You have all of us now. Instead of thinking we're going away every time you loop, look at it as passing the starting line again with all our mementos and stuff— like we're giving you the baton for a relay race with other 'us'es!" Satisfied with the metaphor, he let his grin sharpen and added, "We're on your team and beyond competitive. We wanna win the relay race with you."

The girl stared at him for a long time, silent and conflicted. Ichigo relaxed outwardly and fervently hoped he hadn't said something stupid. He started to tense and fought not to squirm as the silence dragged, tried to focus on the river and birdsong until Homura had turned it all over in her head enough to respond. If she'd respond.

"Even if that is true of you," Homura eventually said slowly, "it is not true of my friends in Mitakihara and never has been."

That was the warmest descriptor Ichigo had heard her use for the Mitakihara girls. He decided not to call attention to it. "Only if you let it be. Pass them the baton."

"I tried to involve them," she growled in frustration. "They don't listen!"

"Welllllllllll." Ichigo rolled his neck and worked his jaw in thought. "Pass their batons to us, and we'll relay them to them. To the girls, I mean. Teamwork." He smiled at her again. "Clue them in to the time travel and let us help recruit them for the team next time around. You've done a pretty good job yourself this time, though."

Homura pursed her lips and searched him with narrowed eyes. "You are far too optimistic."

Ichigo playfully pointed at her. "And you are far too pessimistic. We'll just have to balance out."

The girl scowled down at her lap, where she was clenching her hands in her skirt. After another long pause, she quietly said, "After the way I behaved, they will want nothing to do with me now. I know how this ends."

"Nah," Ichigo said. "I texted Tōshirō to ask about them. They're all worried sick about you."

Homura glanced up at him from the corners of her eyes. "Why would they be worried? I was cruel."

"Because they've gotten to know you enough this time around to know that it's out of character for you," Ichigo said. He ignored her scoff. "They got close enough to you this time to see that you lashing out is a thing you do when you're in pain or afraid. A lot of people do that." At her skeptical frown, he continued, "I'm not saying letting them get close to you and looping isn't painful, but, like... letting them get close means you don't have to resist them on top of the Incubator. Less stress and wasted time that way. Also... I think you blowing up like the other night could be the... everything you try to ignore catching up to you and surprising you into reacting in one of the worst ways you could. That right there is why you need to really work on that bottling up thing. You're like a soda bottle. The longer you stay closed up and let the world shake you, the bigger the messy explosion when you finally can't keep the cap on anymore. At least if you shake an open bottle, there's some splashing but no explosion."

She gave him a weird look for a long time, then said, "You make excessive use of metaphors."

Ichigo laughed. "Lit major, remember?" He grinned at her playfully, but his eyes were serious as he quoted Shakespeare again. "If you can look into the seeds of time, And say which grain will grow and which will not, Speak then to me, who neither beg nor fear Your favors nor your hate."

Homura frowned. "But I do know."

"But you've been surprised this time."

The girl's face darkened back into a stormy scowl. "Due to new variables."

"Right. So how can you say you know how things will turn out? You haven't been to the end of the line with the variables we've added, and we still have a lot of variables we can add if we want."

Homura stared at him and quietly said, "I do not like unknown variables."

Probably one of the truest things she'd said. "How has using only your known variables worked out for you?" he said, not unkindly.

She looked away, hurt. "I just need to combine them correctly," she said softly, failing to suppress a quiet desperation.

"And what if it turns out they'd slot together easier if you had a few extra pieces to fill in the gaps?"

Homura frowned mulishly and wouldn't look at him.

"You're only making it harder on yourself. Resisting help."

"Urahara's 'help' is disruptive."

"Yeah, he can be a dick. We're working on that. But I think your biggest problem with him sticking his nose in your business is that it's different. And you don't like different."

"So?" she said defiantly.

"So with all the same things you're used to working with, it's not surprising you get the same kind of outcome," Ichigo said drily. "If you want a different outcome, different is what you need. Otherwise, you're just sabotaging yourself."

Homura crossed her arms and looked downright sulky.

Ichigo let her stew for a minute before venturing, "So I heard that the new Nagisa girl is the one that you finally snapped over."

"You are all terrible gossips," Homura hissed.

"Basically," Ichigo admitted, unrepentant. "Because we care. What is it about that kid that has you so prickly?"

A muscle jumped in Homura's jaw. "In every other timeline, she becomes the Witch that often kills Mami. Her weapon looks like the form that devours Mami. And it seems likely she met Mami in those timelines, too. And ate her anyway."

Oh.

Well.

That... actually explained a lot.

"Uh... she's not the Witch, though," he said cautiously.

Homura looked at him sideways and spoke as though he was stupid. "I am aware of that."

"You don't act like it. Don't take it out on her."

"You say that as though it is a simple thing."

Ichigo scrubbed his hands through his hair and sighed. "I know it's easier said than done. But, like... some of my best friends are people who tried to kill me the first time we met, so..."

"Perhaps I am not as forgiving as you."

"But what is there to forgive?" Ichigo asked. "That kid hasn't done anything in this timeline."

Homura leaned forward and looked at him sideways with the detached, morbid interest Ichigo saw on people looking at car wrecks. She tilted her head back and looked at him with steely, heavy-lidded eyes. "If I was to turn back time again," she said with predatory slowness, "would you expect me to apply such goodwill to Sōju? Would you hate me if I put a bullet through her Soul Gems at my earliest convenience because of what she did in this timeline, but had yet to do in that timeline?"

Ichigo scowled and jabbed a finger at her. "You are making an unfair comparison and you damn well know it. That Sōju girl was a serial killer of her own free will for months, not a soul insane with grief. And Nagisa is not insane with grief."

"Yet."

Ichigo heaved a frustrated sigh, dragged his hands down his face, and wondered if her obstinacy was real or a front. "Right. Fine. Whatever. I'm not gonna argue over splitting hairs with you."

She cut her eyes away again. Ichigo hadn't meant it as an accusation, but it seemed he'd nailed her ploy to a wall.

"Actually, wait, no, I am gonna split hairs," Ichigo declared to her immediate glare. "Didn't you say Madoka has turned into a Witch before?"

Homura flinched and gave him a look that screamed how dare you. "Yes."

"Right. But whenever you loop, you don't blame her for turning into a Witch before, right?"

The magical girl stared at him blankly.

"And you're getting along with Sayaka this time even though she's turned into a Witch a lot, right? Because you're actively trying to? Get along with her, I mean."

Homura's face did not change.

"Have you ever seen the other girls— Mami and... Kyōko, right? Have you ever seen them turn into Witches?"

"Yes," Homura admitted grudgingly.

"You said Nagisa's weapon reminds you of her Witch. Does that happen with the other girls?"

"Yes."

"How so?"

Homura shifted in discomfort and emotionlessly said, "The Mermaid Witch uses Sayaka's cutlasses. The Dress-Up Witch uses Mami's ribbons. The Wǔdàn Witch wields a spear, though it is different from Kyōko's."

"But you can work with those girls when you try, can't you?"

Homura frowned and averted her eyes.

Ichigo tilted his head and considered her for a minute. Thinking aloud, he said, "But Nagisa's new, so you don't know her and you're not used to having to try with her." He waited for her to deny it, but she didn't. "Seeing her weapon is like a slap in the face or something. And you knew her Witch before you knew her, which is backwards from the other girls."

After a pause, Homura nodded once.

Carefully, Ichigo said, "And dealing with her's on top of all the other new stuff you never had to deal with, right?"

"Yes."

"I think you're just... really overwhelmed," Ichigo ventured after a thoughtful silence.

Homura looked at him briefly, then back to the river. "...Yes. I am," she said reluctantly.

Yes, yes, yes. She admitted it! Uh, now what? "So like... I think you have way too much on your plate to eat yourself. Share some of it. Dish it out. Delegate, as Tōshirō would say," Ichigo said more firmly. "If you let some of us take on more of the figuring things out and whatever— if you can trust us with that without you having to be directly involved or controlling everything— you have more time to just... be."

The girl looked at him askance with a frown of confusion.

"I mean... hang out with your friends. Learn more about Nagisa so she's more than just the face of that one Witch. Chill behind the curtain while the rest of us are on stage. Wait for a scene change before coming on so things aren't chaotic. Stop trying to eat breakfast, dinner, and dessert at the same time."

"Now you are mixing your metaphors," Homura said tartly.

Brat. "Oh, hey, you're actually listening to what I say," Ichigo retorted with a grin.

Homura sighed and tipped her head back to look at the sky. "It is... difficult to do so."

"To listen to me?" Ichigo teased.

She gave him an unamused look. "You know what I mean."

"Just kidding," he said with a smirk. "I know. But it's just a different kind of challenge. And you're damn good at rising to a challenge."

She looked at him searchingly for a long minute. "You have... faith... in me?"

"Absolutely," Ichigo said without hesitation. He still sucked at fine manipulation of his own reiatsu, but he tried to will his earnestness to reach her. "You just have to have some faith in me. I don't expect you to be... flawless or perfect or one-hundred-percent badass amazing. Everyone stumbles. But I'll be behind you to catch you when you do. Everyone will, really. But I swear I'll have your back. Never question that you have my support. And I'll make for damn sure that if you go back again, you have the right stuff to give to another me to make sure that stays true."

Homura stared at him for a long while, then asked, "Because I am vital to your interests? Or you pity me?"

Trying to push him away again, make it impersonal. "No," Ichigo disagreed with a scowl. "Because that's what big brothers are for." He leaned toward her until he was nearly forehead to forehead with her and fiercely looked in her startled eyes. "You're my honorary little sister now. You're not getting rid of me. Anyone who messes with you messes with me— which is why I'm going to be tag-teaming with Dad to set Sandal-Hat straight. He pulls shit you can't work around without cracking his skull, or setting his shop on fire starts sounding like a good idea, you call me. I'll have words with him. With my fists if necessary."

Wide violet eyes shimmered with wetness. Most of his words seemed to have sailed over her head as she just stammered, "B-brother?"

Ichigo's face softened in affection. "Yep. Get used to it." Taking a deep breath, he continued, "So you can talk to me about how shitty things get. I have at least some experience with the whole fighting the odds for your friends thing. I don't mind if you come crying to me over some way the world is screwing you over. I can relate," he said ruefully. "I don't mind if you come cry to me over something you think is silly, either. Sometimes it's the little things that bug us the most, yeah?"

"I can't— I can't— cry," Homura said hoarsely.

"Yes, you can." He tilted his head and debated whether or not to say something. Screw it. "From what little I could hear from my room the other night, you cried with the twins."

It had been agony to stay in his bed and listen to her muffled sobs through the wall as she vented to Karin and Yuzu. He was powerless to fix it even though he desperately wished he could swoop in and play hero for her. The new powerlessness gnawed at him, made him strain to not charge off and do something— something— probably something monumentally stupid. But her muffled voice rising and falling and wobbling and shaking and choking and breaking had—

Zangetsu had finally sighed and pulled Ichigo into his Inner World to spar.

Homura shook her head. "It's— it's different. With you. With... others."

"Why?"

The girl twisted her skirt in her hands and looked like she was struggling for words. "I need to be— to look—" she released her clothing and gestured frustration with her hands— "If I want to be respected by those of you who are older, I must behave appropriately. And that does not include crying."

Ichigo looked at her askance for a moment, then lightly said, "It's okay to cry. Adults cry. I cry sometimes when it looks like nothing I do is helping save someone from danger. Didn't I just tell you I outright bawled on a battlefield last year?"

Homura looked up at him from behind her bangs, eyelashes damp. "I cannot allow myself to despair. I must force myself not to."

True. But— "Better to let it out than bottle it up until you can't hold it anymore." He smiled wryly. "Didn't I just say? Splashes are better than explosions." When she just frowned down at her shoes again, he reached over and tilted her head up with a gentle fingertip to her chin. As soon as she looked at him, he smiled as gently as he could. "Besides, what kind of big brother would I be if my little sister couldn't come crying to me about anything and everything without worrying I'd think any less of her?"

Homura's face shifted with a jumble of emotions leaning most toward grimaces of anguish between hesitation and a look like he was some kind of mythological creature she had stumbled upon. She choked on a quiet sob and raised her arms, still looking wary, but Ichigo could see the moment when her wall crumbled. Tears streamed down her face and she leaned toward him. He hugged her and let her just cry for awhile.

"Tell me," he said in an undertone when she slowed.

"It's har-ard. Ev-ver-ry-one is the same and different and it's hard to be— to be— but I want to be with— I want— but it— it—"

"It what?" he murmured.

"It— it hurts. It hurts."

Ichigo mentally pumped a fist in victory as he patted her shoulder. It was like pulling teeth, but yes! Progress! He took a deep breath. "Sometimes moving forward is like crawling over hot coals and broken glass. But if you keep going, you'll eventually come out on the other side. You'll get through it. And we'll carry you over whatever patches we can. In the meantime... well, since it's gonna hurt anyway, you may as well grab some hot coals to throw at enemies along the way instead of trying to avoid the unavoidable."

Homura snorted and warbled a crying laugh into his shoulder. Beautiful.

"I— I'll try," she rasped. "But I... don't want to go back again," Homura admitted quietly. "Things are... better this time. Even though it's still... hard. I want this to be the last time. I'm... tired."

Ichigo heaved a deep sigh. God he hated that they were probably sending her back again. "I understand. I hope for that, too. But you have to prepare just in case."

"I know," Homura mumbled.

"And I know you kinda have to be tough as nails up in Mitakihara even if you get close to your friends again. But you don't have to be like that with me and Dad and the girls, okay? And you can let Tōshirō and Sandal-Hat and Tessai take over some of the toughness when you need to check out for a bit."

Homura nodded, then sat back and rubbed her eyes. After a deep breath, she tilted her head toward the sky with her eyes closed and just sat quietly for a bit. Ichigo let her. A few minutes later, she opened her eyes and leveled her face again. She looked far more at ease.

"Better?" Ichigo asked quietly.

Violet eyes slid his way and watched him pensively. "Better," Homura said firmly.

A slow grin stole over Ichigo's face. "I'm glad." He glanced at his phone for the time and realized it was mid-afternoon. "We have a couple hours before the girls get out of school," he said, glancing at her and raising his brows. "Anything you wanna do or see?" Homura shrugged disinterestedly, so he thought hard. Ichigo couldn't think of any attractions or movies or anything. He thought back over their conversation. "Wanna go home and you can start teaching me about Shakespearean ballet on the glorious internets?"

Homura turned and gave him her full attention, eyes brightening with interest breaking through clouds of melancholy. "Yes."

"Awesome." Ichigo slapped his hands on his knees and stood. "Pick up your trash and let's go. This should be fun."

The walk home was quiet but comfortable. Ichigo thought— hoped— he had gained some ground with her. Now he had to keep it well enough to pass on.

Well, he had a lot to write about now. Like... he needed to buy another notebook. Also, he needed to look up some ballet stuff or something on his breaks between sessions of studying the old Quincy histories Ishida was delegating to his housemates to read for clues. Maybe find some kind of meaningful ballet-ish gift to give Homura to take with her... beyond.

God, he really did have a big brother complex.

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A/N: I've always felt like there's too much ballet associated with Homura in Rebellion, the Madogatari Concept Movie, and now her transformation in Magia Record for it to be entirely coincidental. Thus my headcanon.

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.