Chapter 1: Prologue
Notes:
The new bleach TYBW anime looks amazing, and I got sucked back into the series, so I wrote this instead of sleeping. This will also contain material from the CFYOW light novel, but I'm sure there will be some lore discrepancies along the way. Enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The moment Ichigo felt the last of Yhwach’s reiatsu disappear into the air, she collapsed onto the rubble in a mix of disbelief and exhaustion.
Was it actually over?
“You’ve done it, Kurosaki Ichigo.”
She glanced over at the man beside her, sprawled out in a large pool of blood. Even in fantasy, she would have never thought Aizen Sōsuke would one day be her ally.
“It doesn’t feel real,” she replied softly, shaking her head.
“I am not surprised,” Aizen chuckled, causing more blood to spill down his lips. “I do consider you my greatest creation.”
She scowled at him. “I’m not your creation!”
His one uncovered eye bore into her.
“I’ve said this before— you may have parental inheritance from Shiba Isshin and even Yhawch, but it was I who designed you,” he said confidently. “The hollow of your Zangetsu is not only a reflection of you, but of me.”
“Shut up, Aizen.” she muttered, feeling too exhausted to even argue. “And here I was, concerned over you.”
“I’m touched,” he said smoothly. “You forget that I am immortal.”
“Must be nice, huh,” she snapped, shooting him another glare. “Wouldn’t that make your precious Hōgyoku your best creation?”
“Unfortunately, the Hōgyoku is also a product of that fool, Urahara, who I will not share pride with,” he clarified. “You, however, are mine.”
“Your ego is insufferable,” she groaned, nearly rolling her eyes.
Pushing herself to her feet with gritted teeth, Ichigo reset Zangetsu over her back before taking a closer step towards Aizen’s bloody form.
A large hole ripped through his chest, and his left arm was missing, yet he still had the peace of mind to smirk up at her.
“Can’t you heal and regenerate yourself?” She taunted.
“You forget again that only three out of nineteen Muken seals were released,” he supplied.
She narrowed her eyes. “And I’m sure there’s no way you didn’t undo any more on your own.”
Aizen simply chose to respond with a wide smile.
Sighing at the realisation that she couldn’t just leave him there as much as she wanted to, Ichigo crouched down and practically scraped Aizen off the bloody ground and roughly pulled him over her shoulders.
He hissed quietly, obviously not immune to pain in his state, and Ichigo felt a twinge of guilt.
“Hang in there. I’m sure Orihime can patch you right up,” she said, slowly dragging both of them away.
She didn’t know where Renji had been thrown, and the entirety of Seireitei looked thoroughly razed to the ground, she had no idea which way to go.
“How kind of you, Ichigo, to offer on her behalf,” Aizen said. “I am certain she would be less than pleased to see me.”
She coughed awkwardly. “Regardless of your past crimes, you did help save everyone this time, so…”
“You are still as naive as ever, I see.”
She huffed in annoyance. “And if you had just humbled yourself from your delusions of grandeur, I’m sure you would have never landed in such a mess to begin with.”
Aizen actually laughed at that. “Humility can not exist in line with a god.”
“Well, you’re not a god now, are you?” She retorted.
He hummed. “You are correct, Ichigo. My plan into the Royal Realm was a failed venture.”
“Be glad you didn’t make it,” she muttered. “Being chained up there looked like a lonely existence.”
Aizen didn’t answer her, and Ichigo continued to trek down the rubble, wondering where the heck Uryuu went after shooting that arrow. She would have thought they’d meet by now.
She could finally sense Renji in the distance, and before she managed to open her mouth and call out, she felt Aizen shift, and two hands suddenly came around the base of her neck.
It was a gentle gesture, with no pressure or killing intent but Ichigo realised with a sudden chill that his left arm had regenerated without her noticing.
“You were always such an interesting subject to study, Kurosaki Ichigo,” he said quietly in her ear. “I had been remiss not to understand your character sooner.”
“Aizen, what—“
Then heat exploded along her back, and Ichigo was thrown into an infinity of white.
Ichigo screamed as she went careening through the air, feeling as if the entire realm had disappeared beneath her feet and gravity had tripled around her.
She was plummeting at speeds in which she couldn’t tell up from down, and Ichigo had a horrifying feeling that she was going to end up as a puddle of blood once she hit the ground.
She focused reishi at her feet, trying to slow her descent and grab a foothold, but the spiritual energy flickered away, unable to manifest.
A blinding light grew behind her, and Ichigo felt like a star getting dragged into a black hole.
She squeezed her eyes closed, tucking her arms and legs for the inevitable impact as the sun swallowed her into oblivion.
For a moment, there was utter silence.
Ichigo peeled one eye open, expecting to see Aizen’s all too smug face staring down at her, but saw that she was in the middle of a sparse forest.
Jerking up from her crouched position, Ichigo glanced wildly around her for any clue for what had just happened.
“Aizen!” She yelled angrily, trying to sense him. “Show yourself you conniving son of a—“
Not a wisp of reiatsu was nearby.
Ichigo patted herself down in a mild panic, making sure she was still in one piece and clutched onto Zangetsu’s handle. She had been poor at sensing others when she first became a shinigami, but this was truly the first time she couldn’t feel anyone nearby.
Picking a direction, she staggered forward, inwardly cursing Aizen, Yhwach, and everyone in between.
“Bastard couldn’t have waited until I was healed at least?” she muttered, rubbing at her aching neck.
Just by the dense reishi in the air, she knew this wasn’t the human world, but she didn’t understand why Aizen would bother punting her across Soul Society by herself?
Scowling, Ichigo picked up her stride, moving with a light shunpo as her reiatsu slowly recovered. Within minutes she came across an old village, the straw roofs and the thin wooden walls a familiar sight to when she first arrived in Soul Society to save Rukia.
Except these homes looked horribly aged, crumbling and patched at every corner. A few people were moving about on the central road, and Ichigo noticed that they were barely covered in rags.
“Hey,” she called hoarsely, approaching one of the older men, who was crouched down repairing his home. “What district is this?”
The man barely turned around before falling flat on his back, eyes comically wide in shock. “S-Shinigami?”
The cry was immediate, and every soul in the area fled as if their lives were on the line, some screaming as they went.
Ichigo quickly grabbed onto the shoulder of the man before he could scurry away, bewildered by their reaction.
“Whoa, relax!” She said firmly, trying not to scowl. “I’m not here to hurt you! I just need some directions!”
The man cowered, completely trembling from head to toe as she held him down.
“Y-You’re not here to kill us?” He whimpered.
“Why would you even think that?”
The man shrunk into himself. “T-They say it’s for balance. Shinigami will come by and clear out half the district and just leave!”
A cold sense of dread ran down her back, and Ichigo suddenly recalled one of Rukia’s many lectures.
“An equal number of souls must be maintained in Soul Society and the Living World at all times. If the balance shifts too dramatically, it will destroy both.”
Ichigo pulled back her hand as if she’d been burned, and stared down at the old man in horror.
“I…” she hesitated, knowing there was nothing she could say in their defence. An apology didn’t seem right either.
“I just need to know where we are,” she finished lamely.
The man sniffled slightly, pushed back against the wall. “This is Zaraki, the 80th district of North Rukongai.”
Ichigo’s eyes bulged. “Zaraki?! The district that— that manic Kenpachi came from?”
“I-I don’t know of a Kenpachi,” he shook his head.
She sighed heavily, realising she had a lot of running to do in order to return to Seireitei.
“God, I’m gonna kill Aizen.”
Ichigo hadn't realised how large Soul Society was when she first arrived, but getting dumped in the furthest district from Seireitei was not the way she wanted to learn.
She guessed that if she went into her bankai and shunpo’d continuously across Rukongai, she’d be able to arrive within a day, but she had no spare energy.
After weeks of fighting and nearly dying left and right to Yhwach and his Quincy, Ichigo was starting to feel the exhaustion finally hit.
Aizen confirmed that Yhwach was gone, so there should be no rush, right?”
Then again, she had trusted that bastard for barely a minute and he managed to throw her across Soul Society.
Ichigo didn’t believe that he was still inclined to replace the Soul King, and with the Zero Division up there, she didn’t think he’d get away with it anyway, sealed as he was.
She pondered his motives as she leapt from one straw rooftop to the next, taking short naps within sturdy trees when she grew tired, and drinking from the long river that extended towards Seireitei.
After a few days, she finally arrived near the first district, and could see the white walls that surrounded Seireitei.
Except those white walls had been demolished by Yhwach and all of Seireitei should have been in rubble.
What greeted Ichigo was not destruction and debris, but a slightly different Soul Society from what she remembered.
It had only been a few days— there was no way they had rebuilt the entire thing already, right?
The first district was also way too lively after a massive war had just taken place. If Ichigo remembered correctly, the districts closest to Seireitei had been badly affected by Yhwach’s overtaking.
If she glanced around, there were no signs whatsoever that battles had taken place at all.
Anxiety began to creep into the pit of her stomach as her instincts began firing off at every suspicious thing.
Something seemed very wrong.
Was she trapped in Aizen’s illusion?
She couldn’t recall ever witnessing his shikai, and they had even worked together just moments before against Yhwach, with Ichigo remaining immune as she had always been.
Shaking off her sense of unease, she flickered towards the stone walls, noting that they were all held in the air, completely contrary to the emergency situation they were in just days prior.
Ichigo entered under the north wall with ease and stretched out her senses, reaching for the spirit ribbons of those she knew.
Then promptly panicked.
She couldn’t find any of them.
Rukia, Renji, Ikkaku, Byakuya, Tōshirō— even reiatsu beacons like Zaraki were gone.
Ichigo focused harder, combing through all the unfamiliar signatures and finally found a few she knew near the western side.
One was undoubtedly the Captain Commander Kyōraku, and the other was Ukitake— who she heard was dead.
Picking up her shunpo pace towards the west, Ichigo tried not to feel completely lost in panic for what was going on and promptly vaulted over walls and castle roofs, moving so fast that she went unseen to the patrolling shinigami beneath her.
She dropped into a lush green garden in the centre of what seemed to be the 8th Division Headquarters, landing before the two men who were conversing quietly over a small table of tea.
“Kyōraku, Ukitake! What is—“
The two turned swiftly at her voice, and Ichigo froze when they met eyes.
They looked young.
Both had much shorter hair than what she remembered, and Kyōraku had two eyes.
And there was no familiarity in their gaze.
“Hmm, who are you?” Kyōraku asked, stroking his chin.
Ichigo promptly collapsed to her knees and squeezed her eyes shut.
“An illusion,” she muttered, clutching painfully at her own head. “This isn’t real— come on, wake up! Wake up!”
Her reiatsu spiked wildly, and Ichigo heard the table clatter to the side and ceramic shatter as the two shinigami reacted.
She expected to feel the cold steel of their blades, when something warm draped over her back and a pair of hands fell on her shoulders.
“Breathe,” Ukitake’s voice washed over her. “You’re going to be alright.”
She shook her head, not wanting to see the reality before her. “No, no, no— “
“Call for the 4th,” Kyōraku said quietly on her left. “She looks hurt all over.”
Ichigo realised that she was drenched in cold sweat, and she snapped her eyes open to see the concerned but distant gazes of Kyōraku and Ukitake.
A horrible feeling settled in the pit of her stomach.
“The y-year,” she stammered, darting her gaze between the two of them. “How long has it been since the Quincy war?”
Both their eyes went wide, looking towards each other before Ukitake answered.
“If you’re talking about the battle between Genryūsai-sensei and Yhwach, it was around five hundred years ago.”
Five hundred.
The reality sank into her bones like cold ice, and Ichigo stopped breathing.
Was this all a cruel joke, or was she somehow catapulted half a millennia into the past?
Aizen.
“I— I need to go,” she said shakily, trying to get to her feet. “I can’t—“
It was all she managed to say before a large hand fell over her head, and there was a whisper of kidō, a blitz of reiatsu, then everything went black.
Jūshirō caught the girl as she went crashing back down, finally noticing the large zanpakutō as her long orange hair spilled over one shoulder.
He turned to Shunsui, confusion mirrored in his own gaze as a beat of silence settled between them.
“Well, that was interesting,” Shunsui muttered, lowering his hand. “Not the usual type of lady who claims to know us.”
Jūshirō sent him a half hearted glare, pulling the girl more comfortably into his arms. “This kind of extreme distress is telling of something serious, Shunsui.”
“I would say she looks like she just finished a life or death battle, but that reiatsu—“
He didn’t need to finish the sentence.
It had fluctuated all over the place, but it was massively heavy. There was no way she could have fought and not caused alarm bells to go off with this level of power.
“Let’s call Unohana to get her healed up first,” he suggested. “We can hopefully ask more questions when she’s better.”
Shunsui nodded. “Leave her in my spare office. I have a feeling it’ll be best if we keep her presence as unnoticed as possible.”
Jūshirō wanted to argue, unsure about leaving an unknown shinigami right beside his closest friend, but the firm look in Shunsui’s eyes stopped him.
“Fine,” he relented, carrying her inside.
Unohana arrived within half an hour, alone as Shunsui had requested, and took one look at the unknown shinigami before settling beside her with a puzzled expression.
“How unusual,” she whispered, waving her hand around as layers of healing kidō flickered to life. “Her reiryoku feels… interesting.”
Jūshirō shared a look with Shunsui, knowing exactly what she referred to.
“I don’t suppose you know who she is?” Shunsui asked calmly.
Unohana shook her head. “I would have remembered someone like her had we met.”
“I agree,” Shunsui nodded. “How she knew us by name— and obviously at a personal level— is odd.”
“She seemed convinced this was an illusion though,” Jūshirō remembered, rubbing his jaw in thought. “Do we have any old records of shinigami like her who were banished or sealed?”
“Good point. Her inquiry about the year was telling,” Shunsui added.
“This…” Unohana suddenly frowned, leaning closer.
“What is it?” He asked, glancing at the woman for any obvious changes.
“She seems to be absorbing the nearby reishi, and her internal injuries are regenerating on their own,” Unohana answered seriously. “It’s quite slow, perhaps because she’s passively doing it in her unconscious state, but she is healing herself.”
“Absorbing reishi?” Shunsui’s eyes widened.
“She did ask about the Quincy war,” Jūshirō muttered. “But she’s clearly a shinigami, zanpakutō and all.”
“Strange, very strange,” Shunsui crossed his arms. “Shall we call Yama-jī to see if he can recognize her?”
“Give it time,” Unohana shook her head. “He won’t take kindly to outside and unknown forces, and we wouldn’t want to prematurely turn her into an enemy.”
Jūshirō agreed with that. Yamamoto was suspicious in nature and prone to fight first and talk later, and he had no desire to see Ryūjin Jakka unleashed again.
“Very well, we can wait for her to wake.”
He was certain it would be a very interesting conversation.
Notes:
Some things to note: there will be a lot of OCs (mostly parents and grandparents of the characters we know from Ichigo's time).
The timeline in Bleach is also super messy, with no accurate source info for anyone's DOB, or major events, so I'm just winging it from what we know.
Overall, this is meant to be a light story, mostly fun with a dash of angst, and lots of timeskips. Buckle in, because this fic is gonna be long.
Chapter 2
Notes:
I have a few chapters already blocked out, so hoping to proofread them quickly and update every few days. Enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Ichigo’s favourite subject at school was Literature.
It was something Tatsuki and even Orihime on occasion teased her for, calling her an aspiring poet after catching her reading one too many Shakespeare plays.
And while epic tragedies were common on her bookshelf, so were science fiction and fantasy novels.
There were a few things she learned from theoretical time travel, and it was either one— she had created a new timeline with her sudden appearance; two— she had been here all along and was only completing the time loop; or three— any action or mention to change the future could cause the universe to implode.
Which is how Ichigo found herself sweating profusely as she sat before three familiar yet unfamiliar captains, each staring at her with a mixture of curiosity and wariness.
Unohana at least looked more or less the same, and somehow that gave her a sense of comfort.
“My name is Kurosaki Ichigo,” she said tensely, wondering for a brief moment if the entire world would somehow collapse.
Ukitake took a quiet sip of his tea.
“Never heard of you, Ichigo-chan,” Kyōraku responded calmly. “You seem to be quite the powerful shinigami too.”
Ichigo scratched her head. “Well, I’m actually a substitute shinigami.”
Ukitake frowned slightly. “And what is that?”
She faltered, realising that Seireitei didn’t yet have the concept of substitutes.
Another piece of the future butchered.
“It’s, uh, kind of a temporary position,” she explained, grimacing. “I was born in the Living World, but I had spiritual powers—“
Ukitake nearly dropped his tea as he looked at her in surprise. “You’re human?”
Ichigo felt her expression tighten. “Well… not exactly.”
“Your parents were shinigami?” Unohana guessed, appearing calm as ever.
Deciding to leave out her mother for now, Ichigo nodded glumly. “Yeah.”
“Alright, that covers your identity to a certain degree, but what of your relations up until now?” Ukitake asked. “You clearly know us.”
Ichigo sucked in a steadying breath, realising that she wasn’t going to walk out of this with her paltry lies. Perhaps if she was Aizen, she could make up some excuse and skirt around the truth, but she had never been skilled at social manipulation.
Glancing up at the three of them, Ichigo pried open her mouth. “I'm pretty sure I time travelled.”
The bombshell revelation however, didn’t result in the reaction she was expecting.
Kyōraku looked contemplative, Ukitake just nodded as he took another sip of tea, and Unohana tilted her head ever so slightly.
“I see,” Ukitake said at last.
Ichigo was floored. “Isn’t that, I don’t know, a huge deal?”
“Did you travel through the Dangai?” Unohana asked.
Ichigo crossed her arms. “I have before, but I wasn’t in there right before this mess happened.”
“Definitely peculiar,” Kyōraku said, staring intently at her. “Are you aware of the space-time distortion that happens within the Dangai?
Ichigo nodded, recalling her first experience being chased by the sweeper and the time she spent learning the Final Getsuga Tenshō. Isshin mentioned that those who got hit by the sweeper were flung in increments of a hundred years, and promptly died due their bodies being unable to keep up with the rapid flow of time.
“I know that one hour here is equivalent to two thousand in the Dangai,” she answered.
“It is rare, but we've had reports of shinigami, willingly or not, who messed with the distortion in the Dangai and came out a few years into the past.” Kyōraku explained.
Ichigo nodded with a frown. “Well… I’m afraid I’m not just a few years off,” she muttered.
Kyōraku raised his brow in question.
Ichigo swallowed nervously. “More like… five hundred?”
That got a far more serious reaction than before, and for a beat of silence, all three captains stared at her in horror.
“The fact that you’re alive is nothing short of a miracle,” Unohana said at last.
“Is that why you asked about the Quincy?” Ukitake recalled.
Ichigo nodded. “Yeah, for me, it was about a thousand years since the first war.”
“The first?” Kyōraku repeated with wide eyes.
Ichigo then realised her mistake and slapped a hand over her stupid mouth.
“It’s alright, Ichigo,” Ukitake placated, giving her a small smile. “Genryūsai-sensei always said the Quincy would return eventually.”
Calming down, Ichigo lowered her hand in embarrassment. “Uh, yeah— Yhwach came back.”
“Your injuries are from the war then?” Unohana asked softly.
Ichigo nodded slowly.
“Did we win?” Kyōraku asked lightly, obviously a question to lighten the mood, but Ukitake threw him a look of warning.
“It’s best we don’t know,” the white haired captain said seriously.
Ichigo was about to proclaim their victory, however slim it was, when she understood Ukitake’s point. What if knowledge of their future victory caused them to grow less powerful in the future?
“Well… do you know anyone that could help me get back?” Ichigo asked, changing the topic.
“It’s difficult to say,” Unohana replied. “Your situation is rather delicate, and we would rather keep your true origins as hidden as possible.”
“Perhaps the Zero Division?” Kyōraku supplied.
“As strange as Ichigo’s time travel is, if it’s not directly affecting the Royal Realm, I doubt they would make the effort,” Ukitake said.
Ichigo agreed.
Besides, she didn’t think any of them were in the business of time travel, as powerful as they were.
“We can discuss further options with Genryūsai-sensei,” Ukitake offered. “I’m sure with the three of us vouching for Ichigo, he would be more inclined to allow her asylum here.”
She bowed her head, feeling a small amount of weight lift from her chest. “Thank you.”
“It’s not everyday someone as interesting as you drops on our doorstep,” Kyōraku teased, getting to his feet. “Come, Ichigo-chan, before we go see that grumpy old Yama.”
“Where to?” She asked hesitatingly, rising with them.
“It’s dinner time,” Unohana said simply.
For the first time since arriving, a genuine smile stretched across her lips.
The meeting with Yamamoto goes better than she expected.
Although he had a few less grey hairs, he was still the old commander that she remembered, and while he eyed her with a suspicious gaze the entire time, he didn’t attempt to bring out his sword.
Kyōraku, Ukitake and Unohana did most of the talking, conveniently leaving out knowledge of the second Quincy war, and her origins in the Living World, claiming that her unusual heritage could cause him to reject her.
She was just a poor shinigami out of time who needed a temporary place to reside and figure out how to return home.
“Hmph,” Yamamoto grunted, looking between all of them. “I can tell there is more to you than they’ve said, however, if you can prove yourself an ally, I see no reason to turn you away, Kurosaki Ichigo.”
She breathed a small sigh of relief and nodded. “Thank you.”
“Which division were you part of before this incident?” He asked suddenly.
Ichigo half choked. “Uh—“
“Mine,” Ukitake answered, quickly shooting her a look.
She nodded immediately with wide eyes, not missing a beat. “Yes, yes! I was with the Thirteenth!”
Yamamoto narrowed his gaze at her. “I can sense that you’re a well established shinigami, were you a seated officer?”
“She was my lieutenant,” Ukitake replied smoothly, nearly causing Ichigo to cough again.
“Y-Yes,” she managed stiffly. “I occasionally took care of the Division when Ukitake-taichō went to Ugendō to recuperate his health.”
Mild surprise flickered across Ukitake’s eyes, clearly not having expected such personal knowledge, and Ichigo nearly cried in relief on the inside.
Thank you, Rukia!
At last, Yamamoto seemed to relax and see her with kinder eyes.
“I see,” he said with a nod. “Perhaps you can make yourself useful again— Jūshirō, I recall your lieutenant position is currently empty?”
The reality of what Yamamoto was implying slammed heavily on her back, and Ichigo wanted to take back everything she said.
“That’s correct, sensei,” Ukitake said without pause. “Although, we don’t know how long Ichigo will remain here, and what this will mean for the future she comes from.”
“She can continue her duty to the Gotei while she remains,” Yamamoto said firmly. “I don’t see how reclaiming her old position will put Seireitei’s future into jeopardy.”
“That’s true, Yama-jī,” Kyōraku interjected, “but the more people Ichigo interacts with, it could have strange consequences for the future.”
“Are you implying that she will be acting in any nefarious manner?” He questioned, spiking his reiatsu.
Ichigo frowned at his stubbornness, realising that he was trying to monitor her movements. She could certainly get away with suspicious activity as a nameless and faceless shinigami among the force, but thrown into the spotlight with Ukitake, she wouldn’t be as free.
“Of course not,” Ichigo lowered her head in respect, not wanting to cause any more trouble for the three captains beside her. They had already trusted her and stuck their own necks out. “It would be my honour to serve the Gotei while I remain here.”
Yamamoto slammed the end of his cane down. “Then that will be it. I’ll have Hikifune-taichō look over your case, but while you wait, attend to your division’s duties. Dismissed!”
Feeling a warm hand to guide her back out of the council chamber, Ichigo walked soullessly beside the three captains, feeling more exhausted than when she arrived.
The four stopped outside of the main building, and Ichigo noted how dark it was.
“Well, that could have gone worse,” Kyōraku said quietly.
“I agree,” Unohana nodded. “It was wise not to mention her substitute status.”
Ichigo sighed heavily. “I wasn’t expecting to walk out with a new job.”
Ukitake smiled and patted her shoulder. “This might turn out to be a good thing, Ichigo. It will take time for Hikifune and her research division to find a way to send you home anyway.”
“I suppose,” she muttered, feeling another wave of guilt again. “But thank you for covering me. I know you guys don’t technically know me and don’t have any reason to trust me—“
“Don’t sweat it, Ichigo-chan,” Kyōraku waved his hand with a smile. “I’m pretty good at reading people myself, and I can tell you don’t mean us harm.”
Ichigo pressed her lips in a line, fighting the urge to apologise. Even when she invaded Soul Society for Rukia, Ukitake and Kyōraku were the first to help her on Sokyoku Hill.
“Thank you,” she said again, lowering her head.
“Now enough of that, it’s getting late,” Kyōraku hit her back good naturedly. “Let’s head back for the night and rest well.”
Ichigo waved farewell to Unohana first, thanking her for the healing, then Kyōraku split ways as he headed to his own Division, promising to see her again soon.
She followed Ukitake towards the Thirteenth, feeling a rush of nostalgia at the sight. The layout and design was slightly different from what she remembered, but the overall atmosphere and warm aesthetic remained.
“Are you acquainted with the Thirteenth?” Ukitake asked.
Ichigo nodded. “Yes, I’ve probably been here the most in all of Seireitei. One of my closest friends, uh, was your lieutenant actually.”
“Ah, I see!” Ukitake smiled warmly. “I was wondering how you knew about my trips to Ugendō.”
She rubbed her nose slightly in embarrassment. “She respected you very much, and well, loved to talk about her time here when we met.”
“I'm glad to hear that I will have such a reliable partner in the future,” he said softly.
They soon arrived at the Division, and Ukitake led her to the central chambers, pointing to his main room as well as the barracks of the other seated officers.
“And this is your lieutenant's office and sleeping quarters,” Ukitake said, opening one of the sliding double doors beside his own. “Everything basic you need should be inside, and we can discuss more tomorrow.”
Ichigo bowed respectfully, honestly feeling tired enough to sleep on a rock. “Thank you— for everything today.”
He placed a warm hand on her head, slightly ruffling her hair. “Have a good night, Ichigo.”
“…and let’s give Kurosaki-fukutaichō a warm welcome, shall we?”
Ichigo stood awkwardly as the members of the Thirteenth Division stared up at her, most were clapping politely, but a few looked sceptical about her sudden appearance.
Having no history and no ties, Ukitake decided to claim she was a family friend having just returned from a long covert mission.
Ichigo bowed slightly, hoping to give Ukitake some face as the lieutenant badge weighed heavily on her arm. “Thank you all for the welcome.”
“As Kurosaki-fukutaichō adjusts to her new position, please continue to support the Thirteenth, and as always, come to my office for pressing matters,” Ukitake finished.
Dismissed from the meeting, the shinigami slowly began to disperse, clearly having their own list of duties for the day.
“Come with me, Ichigo,” Ukitake beckoned.
The next six hours turned into a whirlwind of learning the Division’s duties, mission assignments, training, responsibilities of each seated officer, the names of said officers, then trying to sort through the mountain of paperwork that was on Ukitake’s desk.
By the time the sun was beginning to set again, Ichigo’s new residence in the lieutenant's office had turned into a complete mess.
During the summer months, Ichigo had often helped Isshin run their family clinic, learning the trade of business and medicine in one swoop, but managing the clinic seemed like a cake walk compared to all the duties within a single Division.
“Hanging in there?”
Ichigo turned from her pile of documents to see Ukitake smiling at her from the doorway, a large tray of food in his hands.
She nearly shed tears seeing him. “I would rather you dump me in Hueco Mundo next time!”
Ukitake chucked. “I’m sorry, I know it’s a lot to throw on you, Ichigo.”
He pushed aside a stack of papers and placed the tray of food in its place, and Ichigo quickly bowed her head in gratitude before digging in.
“I don’t know how you managed this all by yourself,” she said, chewing along one side of her mouth.
“Eat slowly,” Ukitake chided. “The Thirteenth has always been filled with well meaning members, and it’s been quite peaceful for many years.”
“I guess that’s good,” she said carefully. “I honestly didn’t know much about Soul Society at all.”
“You mentioned you were from the Living World,” he said. “It’s natural to be a bit lost.”
A soft knock sounded at the door, and Ichigo glanced up to see Kyōraku leaning against the frame with a mischievous grin.
“Well, well, it’s good to see my favourite Jūshirō and Ichigo-chan working together so well.”
Ukitake sent him a soft glare. “Did you finish your mission already?”
Kyōraku waved his hand as he approached the table. “Of course not, I pawned the task off to my third seat.”
“I knew it,” Ukitake huffed through a small exasperated smile.
“What brings you here?” Ichigo asked, stuffing another spoonful of rice into her mouth.
“Am I unwelcome, now?” Kyōraku asked in mock hurt, placing a hand over his chest. “And here I was, wondering if you wanted to stretch your legs for a bit.”
Ichigo paused, eyes widening at the exciting prospect. “You want to spar?”
“Just to get an idea of your abilities, Ichigo, there’s no need to worry,” Ukitake said reassuringly. “The lieutenancy can come with a few dangerous missions, and we’d like to keep you alive and well.”
“Of course!” Ichigo said almost too quickly, grinning in anticipation. “I’d be delighted to fight.”
“Told you she’d be happy,” Kyōraku said, shooting a smug look at Ukitake.
She laughed, slightly embarrassed.
“Eat first, then we go,” Ukitake finished.
Obeying her newest authority, Ichigo cleaned off the rest of the food, taking her time to properly chew and enjoy the accompanying tea.
“I assume you have already achieved shikai,” Kyōraku said, eyeing Zangetsu beside her.
She nodded. “I’m constantly in somewhat of a released state, as you can see. I’ve been told it’s due to my poor control, but I think my zanpakutō simply prefers it that way.”
“Unusual, but definitely not unheard of,” Ukitake said.
“I also achieved bankai,” she added sheepishly, rubbing the back of her head. “Although, the true form of it was only learned recently.”
Both men seemed surprised at that, Ukitake more so.
“Ichigo, when exactly did you become a shinigami?” He asked seriously. “You were born and raised in the Living World and aged like a human, correct?”
“That’s right,” she answered, inwardly counting the years. “I activated my powers when I was fifteen, and I’ll be eighteen next month.”
“You’re practically a baby,” Kyōraku said in shock. “And in three years to obtain bankai is…”
Ichigo shrank slightly, wondering if she should clarify. “Well… I actually learned bankai in three days through an unorthodox method.”
Dead silence met her statement.
“And what method was that exactly?” Ukitake finally asked, mouth still slightly agape.
“Uh, I’m not sure how much I can say about it, as the person who invented it might not be alive yet,” she muttered, grimacing.
“Is this three-day bankai curriculum the norm in five hundred years?” Kyōraku asked with an incredulous expression.
She shook her head. “There was an emergency situation. As far as I remember, this method was only done with me, and the shinigami who created it.”
“Truly fascinating,” Kyōraku murmured. “I suppose there was never any reason for us to worry, was there?”
“Not at all!” Ichigo waved her hands, slightly flustered. “I appreciate the concern.”
“Well, Genryūsai-sensei recently put in regulations about releasing our zanpakutō in Seireitei, so we’ll have to travel a bit, Ichigo,” Ukitake explained. “How is your Hohō?”
She raised a brow. “Passable?”
Kyōraku chuckled as he got to his feet. “Something tells me it’s more than passable.”
Ichigo rose as well and stretched her legs with a grin. “Perhaps.”
The three of them arrived at the large open clearing between two mountains, hidden behind a small district in West Rukongai, and Ichigo nearly preened at all the fresh air.
“It’s nice out here, isn’t it?” Kyōraku smiled knowingly.
“A hundred times better than sitting at a desk,” she replied.
“I just have one more question before we start,” he said, eyeing her from across the clearing. “Have you fought either of us before?”
Ichigo blinked in surprise, then turned to glance at Ukitake who was on the sidelines, clearly sitting out from the spar.
“I’ve actually never even seen your zanpakutō,” she said after a thought.
When she was fighting Byakuya on Sogyōku Hill, they were facing Yamamoto. During Aizen’s invasion, she was stuck in Hueco Mundo while they were in Karakura Town. She had felt Kyōraku release his bankai from a long distance during the Quincy war, but had no clue as to what it did.
Kyōraku smiled hearing her answer, hand resting along the hilt of his swords. “Good. There’s always more fun when neither party knows what the other brings.”
Ichigo reached over her shoulder and readied herself.
“Come, Ichigo!”
The fight began in a clash of steel and reiatsu, and Ichigo moved swiftly around his two blades, manoeuvring Zangetsu’s larger frame to parry both attacks in one.
Kyōraku’s strikes were heavy and true, and Ichigo found his zanjutsu to be nigh impenetrable. It was obvious he had mastered the art of dual wielding, especially against a single blade opponent.
They continued to trade blows back and forth, neither managing to land a hit on the other, but refusing to take the fight to the next level just yet.
A sudden feint caught Ichigo’s left side, and knowing she wouldn’t be able to parry both, she grasped Zangetsu with both hands and instinctively pulled.
Her blade split in two, returning to their true forms to block both ends of Kyōraku’s attack.
He gasped softly at the reveal, locked in tension before retreating with a shunpo.
“You’re a dual wielder, Ichigo?” He said, a wide grin splitting his face.
She shrugged playfully. “I’m a bit new to it, so I hope you’ll cut me some slack.”
Kyōraku laughed deeply. “Absolutely not!”
“Amazing!” Ukitake said from the sidelines, his hands together. “Up until now, Shunsui and I were the only ones to have zanpakutō in pairs.”
“Well, I wouldn’t exactly call them pairs, more like reluctant partners,” she said jokingly, gesturing to their difference in size and shape.
Kyōraku readjusted his stance.
“Let’s dance, Ichigo.”
She flickered towards him in response, honed in and focused on Kyōraku’s every move as they met blades. His shunpo speed doubled, and Ichigo did the same, unwilling to be blitzed by him.
“Passable hohō was such a lie, Ichigo-chan,” he chided.
She huffed out a laugh. “I’ve learned not to be arrogant.”
Ichigo striked hard and fast, nicking Kyōraku’s arm just as he flickered away.
“Scary, scary,” he muttered, glancing down at his cut sleeve.
“Aren’t you going to release your shikai?” She asked, genuinely curious.
His smile fell slightly. “I’m afraid my shikai is a bit temperamental, and it isn’t ideal for spectators, but I’d be keen to see more of yours, Ichigo-chan. Surely the form change isn’t everything?”
She retreated back a few steps of her own, gathering reiatsu at the edge of her blades.
“Well… just be careful,” she warned seriously.
Kyōraku hummed.
Raising her shorter sword, she methodically sliced the air in front of her . “Getsuga Tenshō.”
A massive blast of gold filled the entire clearing, and Ichigo had a split second to feel the build up of reiatsu before an explosion of blue light shot straight back at her, forcing her to dodge.
As the dust settled, she knew something was off and flickered forward in a single step, seeing Ukitake standing defensively in front of Kyōraku, his dual swords released and hissing with smoke. A long gash was visible from his left shoulder to his waist, and Ichigo immediately sheathed Zangetsu, the sword seamlessly merging back to a single blade as she ran closer.
“Ukitake-taichō!” She cried in alarm.
“Jūshirō, idiot!” Kyōraku chided from behind, looking injured around his arms but otherwise alright. “What have you done?”
“I saw it coming while you were still fooling around,” Ukitake reprimanded with a hiss, resealing his zanpakutō. “Ichigo warned you.”
The wound gushed blood down his white uniform, and Ichigo immediately panicked at the sight. “A-Are you alright? I’m sorry—“
She’d managed to nearly obliterate Yhwach with her fully powered getsuga tenshō, and while Ichigo still held back in her shikai state, she had forgotten Kyōraku and Ukitake were missing five hundred extra years of experience and power.
“It’s okay, Ichigo,” Ukitake said calmly, acting unhurt. “It wasn’t your fault. That was a marvellous ability.”
“S-Still, we need to get you checked out and healed!” She protested, wondering if Rukia would somehow tear through time and space if she ever found out Ichigo had hurt Ukitake.
“Don’t make that face,” he said reassuringly. “This is barely a scratch.”
Kyōraku sighed, sheathing his own swords and slipped off his haori.
“Use it for pressure,” he said seriously, pushing it into Ukitake’s arms.
The white haired captain didn’t make a whisper of complaint or even show a pained expression while the three of them headed back to Seireitei in near silence.
“Ichigo, it’s alright,” Ukitake said again, glancing back at her as they entered Seireitei. “I’ll go with Shunsui to the Fourth, so if you could— wait back at our Division.”
“But—“ she frowned, unwilling to just leave like that.
“Don’t worry, Ichigo-chan,” Kyōraku waved his hand casually, but she could see the tension between his eyes. “I’ll take good care of him and bring him back. This is on me anyway.”
Unable to keep arguing, Ichigo could only nod and remain in place as the two captains continued their journey to the Fourth.
She watched as they left her sight, knowing she wouldn’t be able to sit still inside her office.
Ichigo decided to wait patiently for their return.
As soon as they left Ichigo’s range, Jūshirō felt his chest constrict and he coughed up a mouthful of blood.
“Why, you idiot,” Shunsui hissed, coming under his arm to help support his weight. “You could have left me to take that.”
“You weren’t taking her seriously,” he shook his head.
Shunsui frowned darkly. “And your zanpakutō didn’t release in time to redirect her full attack.”
“No, I managed to make it,” Jūshirō corrected, sighing weakly. “Sōgyo no Kotowari just couldn’t absorb all of it.”
He had felt the split second Ichigo’s attack overloaded his capacity, and the rest of whatever he couldn’t absorb had hit him head on.
Jūshirō had managed to negate ninety percent of it, but was shocked at how much the remaining ten injured him.
If Shunsui was hit full force, he wasn’t sure there’d be anything left of him to recover.
“I did underestimate her,” Shunsui admitted at last, looking away. “It’s been a long time since we’ve met someone that strong, and I just couldn’t believe she’d only trained for three years.”
“I know,” Jūshirō agreed softly. “She even dodged my counter without a scratch.”
“Che,” Shunsui pouted. “She’s a hell of a lot faster than she claimed.”
“People are forced to grow quickly in war,” he muttered. “It’s a testament to her strength that she made it through.”
“Something tells me Ichigo wasn't just a faceless force,” Shunsui noted.
She’s strong, went unsaid.
Even from spectating the match, Jūshirō had a general idea on where to rank her strength, and it certainly wasn’t at Lieutenant level.
They hadn’t even seen her bankai yet.
“I wonder how many shinigami like Ichigo there will be in the future,” he said with a smile. “It gives me hope, at least.”
“Hey now, don’t talk as if you’re not going to see it yourself,” Shunsui rebuked softly. “Ichigo knows us, so safe to say we’ll be gathering dust in old age like Yama-jī.”
Jūshirō chuckled at the image, then winced as the movement jostled his injury.
“You’re right,” he said weakly. “A small comfort for the next five hundred years.”
“Now you don't have to feel bad about pawning your work off to her, at least.”
“Shunsui!”
Notes:
I love Kyōraku and Ukitake. I really hope one day Kubo can release a series about the OG Gotei 13 captains, and we can see these guys as little kiddos.
Speaking of Kubo, there was so much confusion with Zangetsu and Ichigo's new powers in general with how TYBW was rushed, but I read a Q&A segment from him where he confirmed that Ichigo can combine and split Zangetsu at will, so there we go. As for the rest of Ichigo's abilities/true bankai... I guess that's where a writer's imagination comes in, right? Lol.
Chapter 3
Notes:
This chapter is a little shorter than usual, but it didn't feel right adding anything more (you'll see why). See you at the end~
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
When Ichigo finally managed to make it to the Twelfth Division, she was running on fumes and willpower.
Ukitake had returned within four hours, alarmed to see her still waiting outside the barracks and scolded her heavily.
He was on the road to recovery, but Ichigo still felt sorry for the whole affair and spent the rest of the night trying to clear more paperwork from his desk.
By the time Ukitake returned late in the morning to inform her of her meeting with Kirio Hikifune, dark circles weighed heavily under her eyes.
Ichigo only managed to leave the Thirteenth after another round of scolding.
“Hello, I’m here to see Hikifune-taichō,” she croaked, undoubtedly scaring the guard.
“Come this way,” he gestured with a wary glance, leading her inside.
Regardless of last night’s fiasco, Ichigo was happy to see another familiar face. Hikifune had treated her and Renji kindly during their time in the Royal Realm, and she was relieved it wasn’t that creep Mayuri she had to deal with.
After twists and turns, Ichigo arrived in front of a large metal door, and the guard dismissed himself after knocking.
Before she could put in a word, the door swung open to reveal Hikifune on the other end. Her purple hair was piled on top of her head in a haphazard manner, and she wore a large mask with protective gear covering the rest of her body.
“Oh my!” She cried, pushing up her goggles to rest on her forehead. “Look at you, dear!”
Hikifune slapped both sides of Ichigo’s face, grabbing a hold before bringing her closer.
“This pasty complexion! These horrendous dark circles!” She cried in shock. “Is Ukitake treating you so terribly?!”
“N-No!” Ichigo quickly denied, unable to properly shake her head in Hikifune’s grasp. “It was my fault! I stayed up last night on my own.”
“How dare he!” Hikifune huffed, clearly not listening. “Yūji! Bring some onigiri!”
“Yes, taichō!”
Ichigo was then promptly dragged next door, placed into a seat at a large table, then given a plate of fresh rice balls.
“Uh…” she stared blankly at the food.
“Eat and talk,” Hikifune ordered, sitting down across from her. “I hear from Yama-sōtaichō that you’re in quite a predicament, Ichigo-chan?”
“I’m… yeah,” she said lamely, reaching for the closest rice ball. “I was sent through time a few days ago, and I was wondering if you could help me get back?”
“Hm,” Hikifune pursed her lips, resting her chin atop her hand. “I haven’t delved into the realm of space-time manipulation, but I suppose it would depend on two things.”
Hikifune raised two fingers. “What sent you here in the first place, and how many years you travelled.”
Ichigo paused, realising she didn’t know for sure how it all happened. She didn’t believe Aizen had such abilities, and even if he did, why he would use it on her and not himself.
Then there was the Hōgyoku.
Ultimately, both matters couldn’t help Ichigo as neither Aizen or the Hōgyoku were currently in existence.
“I’m not exactly sure how I got sent here,” Ichigo said at last. “But I do know that I’m about five hundred years too early.”
“Five hundred?" Hikifune whispered with wide eyes. “I must be honest, Ichigo-chan, I don’t believe such time manipulation is possible with our current technology.”
Ichigo froze, realising her deepest fear had been voiced aloud.
“I would assume whatever sent you here currently doesn’t exist?” Hikifune asked, hitting the nail right on the head.
She nodded stiffly. “The person I was with too… I don’t think they’re here yet.”
“Perhaps the only solution is the easiest,” Hikifune offered.
“Which is?” Ichigo asked.
“You wait.”
She stared in horror, unable to comprehend the simplicity of what was just said. “Wait… five hundred years?”
Hikifune shrugged. “Ichigo-chan, what is a few hundred years in the life of a shinigami?”
“But what about the future I was from?” She demanded, voice raising in near hysterics. “I— I just left everyone behind and—“
“That’s only true if your future still exists,” Hikifune interjected. “Tampering of this magnitude could certainly wipe a timeline from existence.”
Ichigo exhaled shakily, feeling a deep sense of hopelessness crush her. “I… then everyone…”
Hikifune reached across the table and placed a comforting hand over hers. “The friends and family you left behind will be here again when their time comes. Perhaps instead of thinking that you left them behind, you can consider this venture as preparation for their arrival.”
She was right of course.
Rukia and Renji would arrive in Soul Society in another three hundred years, and Uryuu, Chad and Orihime would be born in another two hundred after that.
They would eventually come back, as long as Ichigo stuck around.
“What about me?” She asked in confusion. “Would there be two of me in the future when I’m born?”
Hikifune tapped her chin in thought, before shaking her head. “Although we don’t have much experimental data on time travel, I do know souls are unique, and it’s impossible for the same exact soul to be born again.”
“That could mean two possible things,” Hikifune raised her fingers again. “Either, at the moment of your original birth, the newborn Ichigo-chan will die— or you will .”
Ichigo dropped her half eaten onigiri. “Oh.”
She hadn’t thought much about her direct future, but it made perfect sense. If her current self died, Ichigo’s soul would be born again in Karakura Town, likely closing the time loop.
“But, there is one more reality that I think is more likely,” Hikifune suddenly added, looking more serious. “And that is an alternate future.”
Ichigo nervously licked her lips. “Because of me?”
“Correct,” she nodded. “I’m sure your presence here has already changed things, and the butterfly effect can stretch five hundred years easily. Who knows? Your original father might not even meet your mother, and you’ll never be born.”
Ichigo gasped at the implication. Isshin and Masaki met because of Aizen’s schemes, and if she were to stick around, there was no way she’d let him go unchecked again.
But could she really prevent future catastrophes by sacrificing her own future?
“I… have a lot to think about,” she said finally, holding her head in her hands.
Hikifune looked at her with sympathy. “I’ll research where I can, but I can’t offer empty promises, Ichigo-chan.”
“Thank you,” she muttered, lowering her head. “Just being able to talk to you has been a huge help.”
Hikifune giggled, slapping the back of Ichigo’s head in a loving manner that nearly sent her toppling.
“Of course dear! Come back to visit when you can and bring that silly Ukitake with you! We’ll have a proper meal next time.”
With that, Ichigo found herself outside the Twelfth Division with a box of to-go rice balls, and she waved at the guard in farewell before heading back towards the Thirteenth.
There was much to think about, and thankfully, what Ichigo had the most right now was time.
Ichigo set off on a routine for the rest of the week.
She overlooked training for the division members in the morning, then ran errands, delegated tasks, and attended meetings during the afternoon. Once evening came, Ichigo got through as many documents as possible, signing off on the ones she was confident in legislating, and creating a separate pile for Ukitake to look through.
He hadn’t asked how her meeting with Hikifune had gone, but by Ichigo’s unusually silent demeanour she guessed he knew more than he let on.
There were a few mission requests on the top corner of her desk, mostly dealing with sighted hollows or barbarians along the edge of Rukongai, and Ichigo wondered if she should take a night away to blow some energy off.
A soft knock sounded at her door and Ichigo looked up to see Ukitake with a gentle smile. “Do you have some time to spare, Ichigo?”
She cleared away the papers and moved to greet him. “Of course! What can I do for you?”
“Relax,” he waved his hand, gesturing to sit back down. “I just wanted to see if you’d be interested in taking some courses at Shin’ō Academy.”
“The Shinigami school?” She questioned, caught off guard.
Ukitake nodded. “As far as I’m aware, you’ve never been formally taught in Soul Society, correct?”
“That’s true,” she confirmed. Ichigo’s three teachers had been Urahara, Zangetsu, and the looming threat of death over her and all her loved ones. “But isn’t it too late for me?”
“You won't be enrolling as an official student,” he agreed. “Instead, you’ll be receiving personal guidance outside of the usual Academy hours.”
“That sounds good,” she said honestly, then stared down at her desk. “But my duties—“
“Can be delegated to the 3rd and 4th seat,” Ukitake finished. “Satoshi and Naoya have been at a loss with so little work this week. It will only be an hour a day, so I’m sure you can part with a few documents.”
Ichigo relented. “Alright. Which classes are available to take?”
“I put in a request for Kidō and History,” Ukitake said, pulling out a folder. “But you’re free to look through the curriculum and ask for anything you find interesting.”
Ichigo chuckled slightly, rubbing her neck in embarrassment as she accepted the list. “So you heard, huh.”
Ukitake smiled knowingly. “There’s no shame in not being able to do something you never learned, Ichigo. Besides, your excellence in zanjutsu, hakuda and hohō are more than enough to continue overseeing the division’s training.”
“I appreciate the vote of confidence,” she said sincerely. “I'll be sure to look through it.”
“And Ichigo,” he said more slowly, eyes softening. “Please, come see me if you ever need anything, even if it’s just a listening ear. I understand you may be feeling overwhelmed with your situation, but Kyōraku and I, we’re here to support you.”
Feeling his genuine sincerity, Ichigo relented. “I… don’t have a way to go back home right now, so I’m just trying to cope. I never wanted to be a burden.”
“However long it takes you to figure things out, you’ll always have a place here,” he said gently. “You will never be a bother.”
She lowered her face, trying to hide her teary eyes. “Thank you. It really means a lot to me.”
He responded silently with a reassuring pat on her head.
Ukitake bid her a goodnight after that, and Ichigo decided to spend some time looking through the Academy curriculum.
Students went through a six year program that focused on the four major shinigami arts, with optional courses for science, economics, art and mathematics. After graduation, they could apply to either the Gotei 13, the Kidō Corps, or the Omnitsukidō, which had additional exams of their own.
Ichigo was then reminded that she never had a chance to finish school, and briefly wondered what life at university could have been like. She’d been torn between majoring in medicine like her father or studying Literature.
Shaking away her thoughts, Ichigo settled on Ukitake’s original two choices, deciding that she could always ask for more classes should the time and interest arise.
She set aside her papers and prepared to call it a night when she noticed Zangetsu leaning against the back wall behind her. She had been so caught up with everything, that she hadn't had an opportunity to chat with him since arriving in the past.
A short visit couldn’t hurt anyway, right?
She laid Zangetsu across her lap while settling into jinzen, and took a deep breath, trying to relax her body and mind.
Ichigo then opened her eyes to a dreary sky and the familiar sideways buildings that made up her inner world. She noticed that in between the skyscrapers were a few ancient, but regal looking castles.
“Yo, Ichigo, it’s about time you're here,” Zangetsu’s face appeared upside down, a deep scowl on his face.
“Why so grumpy?” She retorted, sitting up. “You know I’ve had a rough week too.”
“You have no idea what’s been going on in here, do you?” he asked, a mocking grin on his lips.
She blinked, glancing left and right but failing to see anything unusual. “What do you mean?”
“I believe he’s referring to me.”
Ichigo froze, all the nerves in her body flaring at the sound of that familiar voice— something that should have been impossible for her to even conjure in her inner world.
She slowly looked over her shoulder in disbelief and dread, finding none other than the man responsible for this entire mess, sitting on the roof of one of the ancient castles as if he belonged.
Aizen Sōsuke.
There was nothing but silence as Ichigo stared in utter shock at the man before her, and Aizen met her gaze unflinchingly.
Then the anger hit.
Her reiatsu slammed down in every direction, ripping through the atmosphere as she got to her feet and snarled at him. “Aizen!"
Infuriatingly, he seemed unbothered as he too, rose to his feet with a smile. “Thank you for the welcome, Kurosaki Ichigo, but as it’s already been said, you are late to the party.”
Ichigo noted that his sealing garb was torn in multiple areas, leaving his left arm and torso entirely bare, and the seal over his right eye was also missing. With his chest exposed, she could see the pulsing light of the Hōgyoku embedded in his sternum.
“You— how are you here?!” She demanded, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “What have you done?”
At this Aizen seemed less enthusiastic. “I promise you that it was not my intention to end up this way.”
“Why did you send me back?” She asked, nearly feeling out of breath.
“That too, was not by design,” he admitted. “But I believe your zanpakutō can answer this better.”
Ichigo swiveled around in surprise. “Zangetsu?”
The manic grin her sword spirit normally wore was nowhere to be seen as he stared back at her with a deep intensity.
“It wasn’t my idea,” he said immediately, crossing his arms.
“What does Aizen mean?” She pressed.
Zangetsu seemed to sigh, a calm and quiet action that was completely unlike his old self.
“Ichigo, do you know why Yhwach broke our bankai?” He questioned. “Or did you ever consider how you were able to land the final blow?”
She frowned at his change of subject. “It was Uryuu who gave me the opening.”
“His arrow stopped Yhwach’s abilities, but no blade regardless of its strength would have been able to kill him for good,” Zangetsu revealed.
“Then what,” she said impatiently. “Just tell me!”
The edge of her sword suddenly appeared at her throat, having materialised in Zangetsu’s hand.
“Ichigo,” he said seriously. “The true power of Zangetsu is the ability to control fate.”
She faltered, momentarily unable to register his words. “Control… how?"
“Reject it, alter it, enforce it, or outright destroy it,” he said simply, lowering his arm. “You’ve always used a fraction of this power on yourself to overcome impossible limits— this time, you used it on someone else.”
Ichigo held her breath, suddenly taken back to the time she and Kenpachi fought for the first time.
“Do you want to fight? Or do you want to live? Choose, Ichigo.”
“I want to win!”
She blinked back the memories, finding chills roll down her arms.
“You’re saying I killed him by changing his fate?" She asked incredulously.
“It was always Yhwach’s destiny to conquer the world,” Zangetsu explained, staring up at the sky. “But you rewrote his future the moment he couldn’t access his power, and forcibly bestowed him a different fate.”
Ichigo slowly shook her head, in a frozen state of disbelief. “How is that different from what Yhwach can do?”
Zangetsu smirked slightly. “Our powers operate on the same level as The Almighty, but while you can’t actively see every possible future and make preemptive measures, you can take the present and enforce the future you desire— one that is inevitable, even to Yhwach.”
“But what about Uryuu’s arrow?” She questioned.
“If Yhwach had given you enough time to master bankai and understand your true strength, he still could have lost,” Zangetsu finished. “That is why he didn’t even give you a chance, Ichigo. Do you understand now?”
The pieces gradually fell into place and Ichigo grimaced with a slow nod. “Alright, then what does all this have to do with Aizen and us going through time?”
“Because I wished to change my fate.”
She turned back around to face Aizen with wide eyes at his sudden response. His expression was solemn and dark, without a hint of his usual arrogance.
“I’m sure Urahara has explained to you before,” Aizen continued, raising a hand to his chest. “The Hōgyoku’s true power is to grant the wishes of the user.”
“You wanted to go back in time?” She asked in disbelief.
“I did not know how it would manifest,” he answered honestly. “But the Hōgyoku sensed your ability, and dissolved the boundaries between our souls in order to utilise Zangetsu’s power.”
“How?” she demanded, clenching her fists. “I thought your Muken seals were supposed to keep your power in check.”
Aizen smiled crookedly. “No. The restraints did not eliminate my power, it only kept it near me. And you, Ichigo, carried me on your back for more than enough time.”
Recalling the moment when everything went wrong, Ichigo could only stare wordlessly at Aizen. “Y-You…”
“However, I didn’t foresee you being sent back in time like this,” he admitted, “nor did I think a part of my soul would end up attached to yours.”
“What do you mean attached?” She hissed, feeling anger rise again.
Aizen didn’t seem deterred. “As you can see, my physical body was unable to follow, and as an effort to save me, and in extension, itself— the Hōgyoku placed a piece of my soul in you.”
“And now you’re a part of me?” She asked, appalled.
“Not exactly,” he shook his head. “This condition is similar to how Urahara Kisuke once hid his Hōgyoku inside Kuchiki Rukia’s soul. We will remain separated.”
Ichigo clenched her jaw in vexation. “So your stupid wishing rock sent us flying through time and possibly destroyed our future— do I have to kill you to get us back?!”
“I am just a shade of my former self,” Aizen said calmly. “If it’s you, I’m sure you’d be able to sever my fate with the Hōgyoku and disperse me for good.”
Feeling righteous anger burn through her veins, Ichigo threw him a warning scowl. “Is that so?”
“I apologise, Ichigo,” he said suddenly, lowering his head. “It was only my intention to use your power, and not your life.”
Ichigo half choked, stunned at his statement. She didn’t think Aizen even knew what it meant to feel sorry.
Then again, he was a master manipulator.
“What’s done is done,” she replied with a sigh, feeling her anger dissipate. “I just want to know if we can revert this.”
Aizen looked contemplative. “If I could safely leave the confines of your soul or revert time, I would have done it already.”
“Why not?”
“I suspect it’s due to a lack of power on my end,” Aizen replied. “Or specifically, my lack of a body.”
Ichigo stared at him with a sudden sense of hope. “You mean if I can get you back in your body, we can change all of this?”
“You forget that my body is likely gone with our entire timeline,” he reminded dryly.
“No, but you will be born again here,” she pointed out. “Can’t I shove you into your past body?”
Aizen actually paused at that, eyes narrowing in thought. “Theoretically yes, but the method of doing so would require extensive experimentation that I can’t conduct while in your soul.”
“Can’t you just tell me what to do?” She asked, exasperated.
“My soul piece is but a drop in the entirety of yours,” he said simply, sending her a baleful look. “I won’t be able to speak to you outside of your inner world. Besides, you have no talent for science.”
Ichigo shot him glare, feeling a vein throb along her head in annoyance. “I’ll kill you for real, Aizen.”
He had the gall to smirk. “I look forward to it, Ichigo.”
Before she could think of another snarky retort, a white hand came upon her shoulder and Ichigo turned to see Zangetsu beside her.
“Time to wake up, king.”
He then pushed her off the side of the building and Ichigo opened her eyes with a start, finding the early morning sunlight peering through the window.
She sighed heavily, already feeling exhausted. It was going to be a long day.
Notes:
So yes, Aizen turned Ichigo into a Horcrux LOL
And congrats to the commenter who guessed Ichigo's fate smacking abilities in the last chapter! I was reading through a ton of reddit threads and theory videos on why Yhwach was so afraid of Ichigo's bankai, and just settled with the most popular idea.
As for Aizen, he's just so fun to write, I couldn't leave him out for long. I like to think that Ichigo would be a good influence on him, but I guess we'll have to see ;)
Chapter 4
Notes:
Just for some housekeeping, the final fight with Yhwach was in 2003, based on the canon Bleach timeline, and Ichigo is currently in the year 1510.
With that, it's time for her to meet some new and familiar faces!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Ichigo spent the rest of the morning focused on her current tasks, trying not to think about the fact that Aizen was living rent free inside her soul.
For the first time since arriving, she had some semblance of hope and a goal to strive for. All she had to do was to wait for Aizen to be born and shove his soul piece into his new body.
Simple as that, right?
“Kurosaki-fukutaichō, you’re so energetic this morning,” Satoshi remarked, wiping the sweat off his brow.
“Am I?” She asked, pausing her sword practice to look over her shoulder.
All around her, the other division members were sprawled out on the ground, panting and sweating under the harsh sun. Others were resting along the wall, and only a few remained swinging their swords.
“Oh, sorry— end of training everyone!” She waved her hand, making a guilty face. “I lost track of time.”
A few grumbled in response as Ichigo checked the large clock over the training hall, noting she had gone half an hour over the usual session.
“I need to prepare for a meeting,” Ichigo turned back to Satoshi. “Can you end things here?”
“Of course!”
“Thanks,” She waved, flickering away in a shunpo step.
At the end of every month, there was an official meeting for all the lieutenants to report division progress and receive updates from the other squads. It would be Ichigo’s first time attending as a representative of the Thirteenth, and she wanted to be as prepared as possible.
Returning to her office, Ichigo quickly showered, gathered the documents she needed and headed out after grabbing a handful of snacks from the dining hall. The meetings took place at the First Division building, which was a considerable walk, and she wanted to be early.
The warm afternoon sun caressed her exposed skin as she moved briskly through the wide roads, nodding to a few shinigami who passed by.
She was still caught off guard by their wide eyed stares or looks of awe when they noticed her lieutenant badge. It was obvious as a militant society, they held great respect for their leaders, and Ichigo simply hoped to do her best.
A flicker of familiar reiatsu drifted into her range, and Ichigo relaxed her gait as she tried to pinpoint the source.
Someone had been watching her since last week whenever she left the Thirteenth, and Ichigo was curious as to who.
She didn’t think she’d made enemies already, and the reiryoku of her tail was seemingly small and non-threatening.
As they moved closer, Ichigo disappeared in a lightning fast shunpo step, moving behind her tail into a small corridor.
She was puzzled to find a small child peeking over the corner, obviously surprised to see her gone.
Sneaking up behind him, Ichigo leaned her face beside his. “Who are you looking for?”
Without missing a beat, the child replied happily. “The pretty onee-san from the Thirteenth!”
Ichigo glanced down just as the child turned his head in her direction, both meeting eyes.
He was a young boy who looked to be five years old, but Ichigo knew souls aged at vastly different paces than humans. He had silky black hair tied in a small ponytail, and round grey eyes that were frozen in shock.
Ichigo smiled in pleasant surprise. “Me?”
The boy nearly jumped out of his skin, slapping both hands over his mouth as he let out a startled scream. Ichigo quickly put both hands over his tiny shoulders to stabilise him.
“Sorry, did I scare you?” She asked, immediately changing her tone to a gentler pitch. “I was just curious to see who was following me.”
He dropped his hands and lowered his head in shame. “I’m sorry… are you mad?”
“Not one bit!” She said reassuringly, crouching to his level. “I just wanted to see your cute face!”
The boy blushed adorably, and raised his face up again. “R-Really?”
“Of course!” She nodded. “What’s your name?”
“My name is Sōjun!” He said proudly, puffing his chest.
“Sōjun,” she repeated, inwardly marking him off the list of people she potentially knew. “Where did you come from?”
He pointed back towards the direction near the Thirteenth. “Otou-sama assigned me a new tutor, but she’s nasty and never lets me out of the manor! So I sneaked away.”
Ichigo paused. “And where exactly is your manor?”
“Right next to the Sixth Division, of course,” he said simply.
All the divisions were laid out in a spiral starting from the central First, and the Thirteenth was placed right behind the Sixth.
And there was only one manor she knew of that was located near the Sixth.
Ichigo shot the boy another look, suddenly finding his face way too familiar. “The Kuchiki Manor?”
“Mm!” He nodded happily. “I saw you standing outside one night, but no one would tell me about you when I asked.”
Ichigo knew he was referring to the night she hurt Ukitake, and had waited on the roof of the highest building until he came back.
She softened her eyes. “Well, probably because I’m new here. I’m Kurosaki Ichigo.”
“Ichigo-onee-san,” he said with a bright face. “I love strawberries!”
She lightly flicked his forehead. “It means one who protects,” she corrected.
“Hehe, ” He clutched his forehead with a grin, seemingly undeterred by her reprimand. “Yes, onee-san.”
Ichigo gently patted the boy on the head. “Okay, Sōjun, I have a meeting soon, so I need to leave now.”
His face immediately fell. “Wait! I want to go too!”
She frowned. “It’s a meeting for lieutenants that will probably be very long and boring.”
“I want to go!” He repeated almost desperately, grabbing her sleeve. “I’ll be good, I promise! Noboru-sensei will punish me with eternal scriptures if I get caught!”
Tears started to well in his eyes and Ichigo nearly panicked at the pitiful sight. “Sōjun, you might get into bigger trouble if you don’t go now. Your family will worry.”
“Otou-sama doesn’t care,” he sniffed. “He comes back at night and only talks to Noboru-sensei.”
“But…” Ichigo hesitated.
“Please, onee-san!” He clutched her arm now. “I won’t do anything to dishonour you!”
Ichigo knew he wasn’t truly five years old, but hearing the word dishonour come out of a child’s mouth made her frown at his harsh upbringing.
She sighed quietly, hoping in her heart that Byakuya’s grandfather wouldn’t accuse her of kidnapping a noble son.
“Alright,” she relented, scooping him up into her arms. “Hold on tight, Sōjun. I have to move fast since we’re late.”
He blinked in surprise at being carried, before bursting into a huge smile. “I’ll listen to onee-san!”
He firmly wrapped his arms around her neck, and Ichigo wondered how long it’d been since someone held him.
Pushing back her depressing thoughts, she secured Sōjun with one arm and made sure her bag was firmly in place before flashing across the rooftops at record speed.
Sōjun’s screams of delight rang in her ears as he watched the scenery whizz past them, and Ichigo felt herself smiling.
Even if she was scolded later on, she’d consider the venture well worth it.
To Ichigo’s pleasant surprise, she saw a familiar face at the meeting, noting Chōjirō Sasakibe at the head of the table.
He was missing his moustache, but otherwise looked similar to what she remembered.
To his credit, he only took one look at Sōjun sitting quietly on her lap before returning to his stack of papers without further comment. And since he didn’t mark the boy’s presence as unwarranted, none of the other lieutenants asked.
And Sōjun, being a very obedient child, remained silent and still just as he promised throughout the two hour meeting, eating the snacks Ichigo had packed.
Most of the time passed going through recent updates within their squads and discussing delegation of the more dangerous missions that no one wanted. Towards the end, Sasakibe handed out a list of the upcoming graduates in Shin’ō Academy, reminding them to send offers to the candidates who seemed promising.
Ichigo briefly glanced over the long list of names, noting each graduate had an overall score for their major disciplines, personal recommendations from the Academy professors if any, and a mark for which branch they were interested in joining.
She was about to push the pile off to the side when she caught sight of the graduates from the special accelerated class, zoning in on the bottom most name.
Hirako Shinji.
Ichigo had no idea Shinji was even alive, and felt her head spin with the realisation that her sense of time was lost.
In truth, she had no idea how old anyone really was.
She made a mental note to ask Aizen later tonight, and began cleaning up her papers as Sasakibe dismissed the meeting.
“Hello, Kurosaki.”
Ichigo turned to see a fellow lieutenant stop at her side. He had long pale blonde hair that was tied off in a low ponytail, and soft blue eyes that watched her with curiosity. If she remembered correctly from the brief introductions, his name was Kira Taisei.
“And hello, Sōjun-sama,” he nodded at the boy sitting on her seat, before looking back at her. “I was wondering if you both had some time to come with me to the Tenth.”
Ichigo paused in slight surprise. “Did something happen?”
Kira seemed to sigh, and rubbed the back of his neck. “Shiba-taichō just wants to see you.”
She froze at the name, having completely forgotten about her father’s family. “Oh… did he say why?”
“No, but he did say that if I couldn’t bring you back today, he’d steal all my mantou and eat it in front of me,” he said seriously.
Ichigo fought the urge to facepalm, realising that her father must have inherited his stupid tendencies from someone.
“Alright, it should be no problem,” she nodded, readying her bag and lifting Sōjun into one arm. “Please lead the way.”
Looking relieved, Kira guided them out of the First and started heading south with a light shunpo over the rooftops.
“Is Shiba-taichō the current Head?” She asked Kira, trying to drown out Sōjun’s delighted shouts in her ear.
“That’s right,” he confirmed. “He is the 22nd Head of the Shiba House— Shiba Enji.”
Unable to recognize his name, Ichigo could only nod as she tried to guess their relationship. Grandfather? Great-uncle?
They arrived at the Tenth after nearly half an hour, having momentarily taken a scenic route at Sōjun’s request.
Kira led them into the main barracks, and Ichigo noted that the layout was mostly similar to the Thirteenth.
“Taichō!” Kira called, knocking on the shogi door. “I’m back!”
He slid open the doors without bothering to wait, and promptly moved aside as a dark figure ran by him and crashed into the back wall.
Ichigo felt a horrifying sense of déjà vu as the man quickly reoriented himself on the ground, and glanced up— his face closely resembling Isshin’s.
“Taisei!” The man yelled excitedly, rubbing his red nose. “You’re getting better and better at this!”
Kira rolled his eyes and gestured to Ichigo. “Look who it is.”
At this, Shiba Enji’s gaze fell on her, eyes widening for a brief second before coming closer and grabbing the sides of her face, just like Hikifune had done.
“Wow!" He exclaimed, nearly nose to nose with her. “The colours are all wrong but the resemblance is truly uncanny!”
“Uh—“ she stammered, trying to back away.
“I’m here too, oji-san!” Sōjun yelled, shoving his hand in between their faces.
Shiba laughed and let go of her face to rub the boy’s head. “It’s good to see you too, Sōjun! You’ve grown into a man already!”
“I know!” Sōjun said proudly, puffing his chest.
Kira shook his head, clearly used to their childish antics and turned heel. “I’ll go get dinner, taichō.”
Shiba sent the blonde exaggerated kisses through the air. “You’re the best, Taisei! I left your mantou untouched!”
“You better have,” he muttered before disappearing around the corner.
Shiba waved at his retreating figure before turning back around and pointed inside. “Will you join us for dinner?”
Having no good excuse to turn him away, Ichigo smiled warily. “Sure, Shiba-taichō.”
He led her inside, and Ichigo momentarily glanced around at his messy but comforting office. Before she could comment on anything, he gestured for her to sit down at the table and beckoned Sōjun closer.
“Sōjun, uncle needs you on a top secret mission,” he said seriously, crouching down to the boy’s level.
“What is it?” He asked excitedly.
“Izuru and Isshin have been up to no good in the room next door, those stupid sons of mine,” he said darkly. “I can only trust you to go over and spy on them. Can you do this?”
Sōjun straightened his back and lifted his chin. “Of course!”
“Good! I’ll call you back when it’s time,” he pushed the boy off, and Sōjun quickly scampered out of the room, obviously knowing where to go.
The door slid shut, and suddenly Ichigo felt the temperature in the room drop ever so slightly.
Shiba faced her, his previous clownish expression nowhere to be seen.
“So,” he drawled, walking towards the table. “Kurosaki Ichigo, huh?”
There was only silence as the two stared intently at each other, and Ichigo felt her palms sweat from under the table.
Shiba dragged out a chair across from her and sat down. “I’ll admit I was suspicious when I first saw you from afar, but Kyōraku and Ukitake have both been tight-lipped about you.”
“I’m not an enemy,” she said firmly, frowning at him.
“Perhaps not,” he tilted his head. “All I want to know is why you— a stranger of unknown origins— look exactly like my older sister.”
Ichigo paused, startled by the unexpected connection.
“Of course, even if it wasn't for the physical similarities, your reiryoku has familiar traces as well,” he continued, eyes hard. “Who are you, Kurosaki Ichigo?”
Realising that her normal excuse of being Ukitake’s family friend wasn't going to fly, Ichigo sighed and rubbed the side of her head.
“I wasn’t trying to hide out of ill intent,” she said slowly.
“Then explain in the simplest way,” he demanded, crossing his arms. “I understand truth comes with consequences, and I will deal with them as the Head of my House.”
She hesitated for a beat before finally answering. “An accident sent me through time. I’m a few hundred years early and out of place as you can see.”
Shiba’s eyes widened and his posture slackened. “Time? So you are…”
“A descendant of yours, as I’m sure you’ve already guessed,” Ichigo finished, feeling exhausted.
Shiba was utterly lost for words for a moment before his entire expression seemed to change, and a giddy smile stretched across his face. “My daughter?”
“Granddaughter,” she quietly corrected, recalling his two kids next door.
Shiba gasped softly and held his face in his hands, practically melting into his seat. “I’m a grandpa?!”
“I… don’t know how the technicalities would work,” she muttered.
“Which ungrateful son of mine was it?” He asked, before raising a hand in pause. “Actually, you’re right, Ichi-chan, it’s best if I don’t know.”
Ichigo blinked at the sudden change in his tone and shook her head. “Agreed. This is very weird for me.”
“Have you found a way to return home?” He asked, turning more serious.
“Nothing more than possibilities,” she admitted. “I need to wait for the person responsible for this mess to arrive.”
“And how long will that be?”
“I’m… not sure,” she said at last. “I’ll need to dig around for some information.”
“Very well, I might be able to help you in that regard, however,” he paused, looking more serious. “There will be a few others who may question you.”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Mostly those who were close to my sister,” he explained. “Have you met that uptight Kuchiki yet?”
Ichigo scrambled for a mental image, unable to draw anything up except Byakuya’s face. “You mean Sōjun’s father?”
Shiba nodded. “My sister married that asshat Ginrei about a hundred years ago. I suspect that’s why Sōjun is so attached to you.”
More than the revelation of Sōjun’s parents, Ichigo was appalled by the realisation that she and Byakuya were second cousins.
My God.
“Your sister,” Ichigo said softly, unsure about how to ask. “Is she…?”
A sad look flickered across his eyes. “She died a few years after giving birth to Sōjun,” he revealed. “It’s been a little over a decade now.”
“I’m sorry,” she muttered, also lowering her face with a frown.
A large hand smacked down on the back of her head, and Ichigo nearly bashed her nose on the table.
“Don’t give me that sad face, Ichi-chan!” Shiba ordered with a stern look. “My sister may be gone, but I have a very cute nephew and now, my very precious granddaughter!”
Ichigo huffed, not having the heart to turn him away. “Will Sōjun’s father be suspicious of me?”
“Well, it’s probably best that I claim you under my House anyway.”
She jolted. “As a Shiba?”
At this, he turned more serious. “I don’t know what the political climate is like in the future, but currently there’s a huge power struggle happening within the nobility due to the loss of important figures in the Central 46.”
Knowing next to nothing about Soul Society's government, Ichigo could only frown. “Then wouldn’t it be counterintuitive for me to join the Shiba?”
He snorted in amusement. “As one of the Five Great Noble Families, most of the lesser aristocrats wouldn’t dare to move against us.”
“Why would they even care about me?” Ichigo asked in confusion. “I’m literally a nobody.”
“Precisely because you’re a nobody, they’ll come after you,” he corrected. “Do you know how long the lesser nobles have been eyeing the empty Lieutenant position in the Thirteenth? Then you show up out of nowhere and snatch it from them.”
Ichigo paused, suddenly feeling nervous. “Is it really that serious?”
Shiba nodded. “It’s gotten worse over the last century, and multiple prominent families have been wiped out. If you don’t end up assassinated, you’ll be falsely tried for crimes and sentenced to exile, imprisonment, or execution.”
Her jaw dropped. “What the hell for?”
Shiba shrugged. “Right now, any position of power, especially those in the Gotei are seen as great assets in order to build prestige. The Shiba, Kuchiki, and Shihōin Clans are the only ones with generational inheritance within our respective Divisions, and typically remain exempt.”
“So the rest of them are constantly fighting for seats?” She asked.
“Exactly,” he nodded. “Their ultimate goal is to obtain a spot in the Central 46, as they hold even more authority than the Gotei.”
“I see,” she muttered, fidgeting with her hands. “So would I be getting adopted?”
“No need,” he shook his head. “We can say you’re the daughter of one of my long deceased uncles, and perform a legitimising ceremony. You can keep your mother’s name if you’d like and have a good excuse for the resemblance should people ask.”
Ichigo felt her heart stir. “You would do that for me?”
His hand came for her head at lightning speed and Ichigo barely managed to dodge from years of experience.
“Hmph! I see you’ve been well trained, but my unworthy son seems to have missed teaching you the most important thing in life,” he chided, shooting a stink eye to the room beside them. “We Shiba are protectors, and you, Ichi-chan, are family.”
Feeling her eyes suddenly grow misty, Ichigo could only nod. “Thank you, Shiba-taichō.”
“You can call me granddaddy-chan.”
Ichigo snorted, feeling a genuine smile pull at her lips. “Absolutely not.”
By the time Ichigo finished dinner at the Tenth, it had gotten late into the evening.
Sōjun had been called back, dragging along a child his age and another boy that looked more like a young teen, who were introduced as Isshin and Izuru respectively.
Meeting her father as a child topped the list of the strangest experiences in her life however, and Ichigo had to put a mental distinction that this boy was not really her goat-chin dad, so as to not completely lose her mind.
Izuru, who she deduced to be Kukaku and Ganju’s father, looked to be a well mannered kid, likely resembling his mother.
After their farewells were said, promising to return for a visit, Ichigo scooped Sōjun into her arms and headed back towards the Sixth.
The boy was half asleep on her shoulder, clearly tired from the long day, and Ichigo braced herself for the upcoming encounter.
She had only been to the Kuchiki Manor a few times, but the main gates were thankfully still in the same place, and Ichigo dropped down in front of the two guards with a finger against her lips in warning.
“Quiet, Sōjun is sleeping,” she ordered, noting their open mouths. “Please guide me inside to see Kuchiki-taichō.”
One was clearly more bold than the other and opened the gates for her to enter with a hasty bow, beckoning her to follow.
Ichigo trailed after the guard as he led her through ornate gardens and elaborately decorated halls, coming to a stop before a large circular shogi door.
“Kuchiki-sama, Sōjun-sama has returned.”
The door immediately opened, revealing an older woman in a refined kimono staring down at them with a hurried gaze.
“I-Ineshi-sama?” The woman stuttered, before rubbing her eyes and taking another look at Ichigo. “No… who are you?”
“I’m Kurosaki Ichigo, lieutenant of the Thirteenth Division,” she introduced quietly with a small bow, mindful of the sleeping boy. “I’ve been delayed in bringing Sōjun back home, I apologise.”
The second shogi door then slid open to reveal a tall man with long black hair and a stern expression. A few grey streaks ran along his temples, and frown lines could be seen between his brows. The white scarf Ichigo had seen on Byakuya rested over his shoulders, and she knew this man was Kuchiki Ginrei.
He took one glance at her, eyes widening every so slightly as his gaze rested between her and Sōjun. He was as expressionless as Byakuya, and she couldn’t gleam anything from his stoic face.
“Kurosaki-fukutaichō,” he called, voice quiet but deep. “You seem to have your hands empty of work, choosing to instead carry around a grown boy all day.”
Ichigo bit down on her tongue, holding back her snark.
“Sōjun accompanied me to the lieutenants meeting this afternoon, and we just returned from dinner with Shiba-taichō and his sons,” she explained, trying to keep her calm. “If you must punish someone, then penalise me. Sōjun is just a child.”
“You,” he narrowed his eyes. “Are you related?”
To her, went unsaid, but Ichigo heard it all the same.
“I am a distant relative of Shiba-taichō,” she answered smoothly.
“Hn,” the man’s expression tightened, as if unable to accept it. “Koharu, take the boy.”
The older woman slowly came down the steps, and Ichigo gently turned Sōjun away from her shoulder to hand him over.
After getting a firm hold on him, Koharu bowed to Kuchiki before heading down the long hallway and disappeared behind a corner.
“I do not have the authority to punish another Division’s lieutenant,” Kuchiki said, turning back to her. “However, I can exact a penalty from one noble house to another. Inform Shiba Enji that he shall be hearing from me about this very soon.”
Ichigo clenched her teeth, wanting to simply pull out Zangetsu and speak through her sword, but she knew it might hurt Sōjun later on.
“Very well,” she managed, giving a short bow. “Have a good night, Kuchiki-taichō.”
Without waiting for him to properly dismiss her, Ichigo flickered out of his garden in a long shunpo step, completely bypassing his guards and heading back to the Thirteenth.
She was physically and mentally exhausted, but decided to stop by Ukitake’s office and check in for the day, not having seen him since early in the morning.
“Ichigo!” He greeted happily, inviting her inside. “I’m glad to see you.”
His gentle and warm demeanour was like a balm to her aggravated nerves, and Ichigo promptly spilled the course of her entire day, revealing her lineage with the Shiba and meeting Kuchiki Ginrei.
Ukitake clapped his hands as if in realisation. “Ah! I did think you looked familiar as well— of course you would look much like your grandaunt. Shiba Ineshi was a kind and wonderful woman.”
Ichigo pressed her lips in thought. “Did she and Kuchiki not get along?”
Ukitake looked nearly scandalised before chuckling. “Ichigo, you should have seen Ginrei’s very elaborate and public declarations of courtship for Ineshi. He was head over heels gone for her.”
Her jaw dropped, unable to imagine such a ludicrous scene.
“Ginrei is a few centuries older than Kyōraku and I, and when he was younger, he had no desire to marry or be the next Head of Kuchiki,” Ukitake continued. “He gave the position to his younger brother and lived a very free lifestyle.”
“That is… surprising,” she raised a brow, finally feeling a sense of amusement.
“He met Ineshi when she came of age and wanted to pursue her, but she had absolutely no interest in him,” Ukitake revealed, laughing softly. “So he tried to win her over for fifty years and they finally got married at the end.”
“That same guy? He looks like he has the emotional range of a rock.” Ichigo pointed out with a smile.
A shadow of sadness flickered across Ukitake’s face. “Well, yes, he unfortunately went through some difficulties back to back with the death of his brother, mother, then his wife.”
Ichigo grew solemn at that. “Then why does he treat Sōjun so poorly? I’ve only been with him for a day and I can already tell that Kuchiki is quite strict and distant with his own son.”
Ukitake sighed heavily. “I don’t know Ginrei’s heart, but I suspect it’s because he sees his younger self in Sōjun, and fears getting close.”
Ichigo knew emotional scars were the most difficult to heal from, and she wisely didn’t comment.
“I’m happy that you were able to find your family, Ichigo,” Ukitake said, changing to a lighter subject. “The Shiba are wonderful, and I’m sure they will have your back through anything.”
Ichigo smiled softly, memories of her grandfather floating into her mind.
“Yeah, me too.”
For the first time since coming back, she was grateful for Aizen’s stupid plans.
The gratitude lasted all of ten minutes as Ichigo returned to her room, crashed into her futon then promptly opened her eyes to see Aizen’s smug face in her inner world.
“What the hell?!” She cried, putting her hands over her eyes as if that would erase him. “I didn’t even go into jinzen!"
“Why Ichigo?” Aizen asked smoothly. “Not happy to see me?”
“Can’t I get a break and have restful dreams for this one night?” She demanded, clutching the shorter strands of her hair.
“Then how will you ask me all the questions your heart desperately desires?”
“Tomorrow obviously!” She snapped, pulling her hands away to try and swipe at his face. Aizen dodged easily.
“Besides, I am not desperate,” she added, glancing around for her missing sword spirit. “And where’s Zangetsu?”
Aizen gestured over his shoulder. “Enjoying the sun.”
Ichigo narrowed her eyes at the horizon to see a head of spiky white hair at the edge of a skyscraper.
“Can’t even give me a greeting, huh,” she released a sigh of exasperation.
“Did you know that it rained here for days after your arrival to the past,” Aizen revealed. “Then it started storming during your talk with Kirio Hikifune. Only this morning, the clouds disappeared.”
Ichigo glanced at the sky, feeling a twinge of guilt. Compared to yesterday’s weather, the sun was warm against her back and there was a gentle cool breeze.
“Sorry,” she muttered, lowering her face.
“Zangetsu said he had not seen such consistent rain since I took Kuchiki Rukia from you,” Aizen said with a provocative smile.
Ichigo scowled at the reminder. “How interesting, that both times had your hands all over it.”
She extended her arm, and Zangetsu suddenly materialised in her open hand, gleaming in the light of the sun.
“Oh, have you finally obtained some resolve, Ichigo?” He mocked, intentionally pushing his neck closer to the edge of her blade. “However, remember that without me, you have no way of going back.”
She slowly lowered her hand and grudgingly stared at him. “I hate you, Aizen.”
“You think you should, but you don’t,” he corrected, eyes briefly closing. “I’ve known that even before connecting with your soul.”
Ichigo relented with a sigh, knowing he was right. She didn’t hate anyone, truly.
Only herself, for not being strong enough.
“Were you watching me all day like a creep?” She asked, plopping down to sit on one of the windows of her building.
“Your life here has been interesting, far more than the endless walls of Muken, but no,” he leaned his head onto his hand. “Focusing on your surface activity drains me of energy.”
She blinked in surprise, not having expected that. “What, are you disappearing?”
“Not quite, although I’m sure you’d prefer that,” he said with a humourless laugh. “I believe my soul is still adjusting to yours, and trying to carve out a space without getting merged together.”
Ichigo nearly choked at the implication. “I’m absorbing you?”
“A single body was only ever meant to house one soul,” Aizen explained simply. “However, the Hōgyoku will stabilise me eventually. It will just take time.”
Pushing aside the sudden horror of merging together with Aizen, Ichigo crossed her arms. “I need to ask you about that. Hikifune said the same soul can’t exist in two people at once, so what’s going to happen when you’re born?”
“Such things may not apply as I don’t have a body of my own,” he reasoned.
“But you do technically have a body, just not your own,” she said, pointing to herself.
“Then I will likely be born with an incomplete soul,” he shrugged. “My ties to you through the Hōgyoku will not break so easily.”
Ichigo paused for a moment before considering her new timeline again. “When exactly were you born?”
Aizen seemed to ponder the question himself, as if he had never cared for his own birthday.
“May 29, 1527,” he finally answered.
“1527?” She repeated in shock, quickly doing the math along her fingers. “I have to wait basically another lifetime for you to be born!”
“It’s only seventeen more years,” he said blandly.
“I’m seventeen!” She motioned to herself.
Aizen grew quiet for a moment before smiling. “I forget you are still so young, Ichigo. I’ve truly created an extraordinary legacy.”
“I’m not your legacy,” she shot back, too exhausted to put any real anger behind it.
“What shall I call you then— my product? My commodity? My merchandise?”
“Shut up!” She snapped, about to follow through with additional threats when he outright burst into laughter.
Ichigo faltered, caught off guard by his sense of humour. She had seen Aizen smirk and smile mockingly before, but never laugh.
“What’s with you today,” she muttered, watching him with new eyes.
Aizen kept his easy going smile. “Perhaps Zangetsu’s good mood is affecting me.”
“You’re insane,” she huffed, slightly rolling her eyes.
Who knew Aizen Sōsuke was so childish?
“Anything else to ask?” He waved his hand.
Ichigo pursed her lips. “I saw Shinji’s name on the list of Academy graduates today.”
“Ah, yes,” he nodded, softly tapping his jaw. “There are more people you know in this time than you think— the years are but a drop in the life of a shinigami.”
“Who else is around?” She asked in surprise.
“Zaraki has been alive since the second century,” he revealed, pausing for a beat before continuing, “and Urahara Kisuke is about two decades older than I, so he and Shihōin Yoruichi are already here.”
“Honestly, I had no idea you guys were so old,” she said frankly. “Did you grow up in Seireitei?”
“I was raised in Anjo, the 2nd District of South Rukongai,” he revealed.
She hummed. “Must have been nice then, at least compared to the outer districts.”
“Nice, certainly, but dreadfully boring,” he commented.
“Why?” She asked. “No one to help you conquer the world?”
Aizen didn’t rise to her bait. “Intelligence often comes with isolation, and it became clear very quickly that the others around me were fools.”
“So you became a shinigami,” she finished, raising her brows.
“No, I actually despised the shinigami, as they acted equally brainless and ignorant,” he said harshly. “I didn’t enter the Academy until I was interested in power for a purpose.”
Knowing all too well what his original purpose was, Ichigo frowned.
“Then… how did you want to change your fate?”
At this, Aizen seemed hesitant, and turned his gaze away. He remained silent for such a long while that Ichigo thought he hadn’t heard her.
“An answer for another time,” he said at last, turning to face her with his usual smug expression. “Enjoy your day, Ichigo.”
Then her inner world spun away into darkness and Ichigo woke up sprawled out in the same facedown position on her futon.
She dragged a hand down her eyes, scowling at her aching neck.
“That slick bastard.”
Notes:
Here comes the OC's! Honestly, I never thought of making Ichigo and Byakuya relatives, but I figured that noble clans would have to constantly inter-marry anyway, with the whole 'illegal to marry commoners' law. It's also nice to give Ichigo stronger ties to the people in the past.
Speaking of- it's so hard to write about time travel when Kubo never confirmed how old anyone actually was 😭 CFYOW mentioned Ichibei is literally a million years old, so that really threw off my perception of shinigami age.
As for Aizen, I ended up picking 1527 because it's the year Machiavelli died LOL. I know Kubo based Aizen off Nietzsche's work, but thought it was fitting either way. It's kinda funny that even as the main villain, we know nothing about Aizen's lineage, childhood, or history. More for me to imagine, I guess 🙃
Chapter 5
Notes:
Some material from CFYOW ahead! And thank you all for your lovely comments 🤍
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The days began to blend together as Ichigo continued to flesh out her routine, and two instructors from the Academy soon arrived to give supplemental lessons for her twice a week.
World history was a dry subject, containing more drama surrounding the old noble clans and the Central 46, but Ichigo figured it would be better to learn it now than be caught ignorant.
Kidō, on the other hand, was just as disastrous as she’d been expecting.
The last time she had attempted anything delicate with her reiatsu was when she broke into Seireitei using the reishūkaku, and even that went wrong.
After attempting the easiest and simplest Hadō 1: Shō, which should have been a small force of air— a blast of energy spiraled out of her finger like a hurricane, and completely demolished the entire training ground.
Ichigo could only stare, stunned at her horrific display.
“W-Well,” the instructor coughed, adjusting his glasses as if he saw incorrectly. “Perhaps try a little less force next time.”
“Sasaki-sensei, please be honest,” she said hopelessly. “Am I a lost cause?”
“Nonsense!” He said after too long of a pause. “There hasn’t been one student in my three hundred years of teaching who was unable to master this simple Kidō.”
“I genuinely used as little reiryoku as I could manage,” she said. “It felt like a drop.”
Sasaki cleared his throat, and seemed to consider his thoughts deeply. “I see that your massive reiatsu pool is hurting your efforts, Kurosaki-fukutaichō. I would normally never use this method, but perhaps it’s best if we move backwards.”
“How so?” She asked.
“We start with a high level Kidō, that requires a great amount of energy from the user, and you can occasionally get away with poorer control,” he explained.
Feeling hopeful, Ichigo agreed happily. “Of course, sensei! What should I start with?”
He hesitated again, then pointed over his shoulder. “How about we first move to a further training ground?”
Purely for the sake of being able to oversee her division members in Kidō training, Ichigo agreed to continue her lessons.
She didn’t think she’d ever get proficient enough to use it in the middle of battle, but she’d long made peace with it.
Two weeks later, Ichigo was making a routine stop at the Tenth Division when Shiba Enji beckoned her into the office with a curious expression.
“Something wrong?” She asked.
“That deadbeat Ginrei sent an official charge against us for impropriety and demanded that you provide restitution,” Shiba rolled his eyes, waving an important looking document in the air.
Ichigo clenched her hands. “What does he want?”
Shiba laughed. “That once a month, you’d go to the Kuchiki manor and tutor Sōjun in the four major shinigami arts.”
“I— what?” She blinked, wondering if she heard wrong.
“I knew it, that guy just wanted an excuse to see you around,” Shiba scoffed, flicking the paper behind him. “He’s probably still suspicious of your appearance— not that I blame him— but I suppose you wanted to see Sōjun more anyway, so this works out for you, Ichi-chan.”
“So he’s not mad?” She frowned, needing some sort of clarity.
Shiba shrugged. “Probably never was. His extroversion declined a lot over the last decade but he’s never been quick to anger over stupid stuff like this.”
“I see,” she muttered. “I really misjudged him.”
“It’s fine,” he dismissed, waving a hand. “He’s still uptight and overly grumpy, so I’d be careful of your tone when speaking, but he’s not a bad person.”
“Thank you,” she nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
He ruffled the top of her head and grinned. “Now that you’re here, you might as well stay for dinner.”
Ichigo smiled with fond exasperation. “Sure.”
A week later, Ichigo woke up to what seemed like imposters in the Thirteenth Division.
“You look more noble than ever, Kurosaki-fukutaichō!”
“Your hair looks extra lucious today!”
“I hope you have a wonderful morning, fukutaichō!”
Ichigo stared at her usual members, bewildered and feeling a sense of unease. “What’s with you guys today? Are you trying to get out of training?”
“Of course not! We promise to make you proud!”
After two hours, she was surprised that nearly everyone had held true to their word, training harder than she had ever seen them before, and Ichigo could do nothing but commend them.
In the afternoon, Satoshi and Naoya were scrambling around the division, forcibly taking paperwork from her office and running errands in her stead.
“Have a restful day, Kurosaki-fukutaichō! Leave all these unimportant tasks to us!”
Confused and feeling jostled from her normal routine, Ichigo made her way to Ukitake’s office, and opened the door to receive a small burst of confetti in her face.
“Happy Birthday, Ichigo!” He said cheerily.
“W-What?!” She stammered, standing open-mouthed in shock, as Ukitake began dumping all sorts of snacks into her arms. “How did you know?”
Ichigo had of course noticed the date, but didn’t think much of it.
“I remembered you saying that your eighteenth birthday was coming up,” Ukitake said excitedly. “And I found the information when you updated our Division’s census last week!”
She felt her heart swell with emotion, and Ichigo grimaced to hold back her sudden desire to cry. “Are you the one who told the whole division?”
Ukitake chuckled. “Actually, I just asked Satoshi and Naoya to take some of your usual load today for an event, but it looks like word got around.”
“Of course,” she muttered, feeling her lips twitch in amusement. “It really isn’t a big deal.”
“Perhaps it’s just a testament to how well you’ve been doing as a lieutenant, even for a month, that everyone is willing to participate,” Ukitake said happily. “My work has certainly been lighter thanks to you, Ichigo.”
She rubbed the side of her neck, feeling her cheeks grow hot. “I, um, thanks. I’m happy to help, really— what’s the event for?”
“Oh, Enji is holding a small banquet dinner at the Shiba Estate for you,” he said with an expectant gaze. “Kyōraku and I will both be there too.”
Ichigo fought the urge to sigh. “That guy… he couldn’t even warn me in advance?”
“It was a pure coincidence actually,” he said. “I mentioned your birthday after a captain’s meeting a few days ago, and it turned out he was already planning something due to separate reasons, and he decided to host the event earlier to align with your birthday.”
She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “What was his original intention?”
Ukitake laughed. “There’s no need to worry, Ichigo. It’ll be a short time to officially validate you into the Shiba House, and I was promised that the dinner would be a casual affair.”
Finding no way out, Ichigo could only nod in agreement. “I guess it’s good that my schedule has been cleared for the rest of today.”
“Enji asked me to send you over to the Tenth in a few hours, so just relax in the meantime,” Ukitake reassured, reaching out to pat her shoulder.
Feeling as if she was walking on clouds, Ichigo floated out of his office and considered that she could use the day off.
Ever since waking up in the past, Ichigo never had a moment to really stop and take time for herself. She had left everything behind, and it felt wrong to idle around when there were tasks needed to be done.
She stepped into her room, suddenly noticing that within the last month, she had accumulated a number of new belongings and mementos, as well as a few trinkets. The space that had once felt empty and cold, now welcomed her back with familiar warmth.
The prospect of having to spend the next few decades here suddenly seemed less daunting than before, and Ichigo settled on her futon.
Although she missed everyone dearly, especially Yuzu and Karin, she knew the only thing she could do at this time was wait.
Seventeen more years until Aizen arrived.
She sighed.
Ichigo was inwardly cursing Shiba Enji and his stupid antics as a servant behind her pulled tightly on the obi, nearly squeezing the air out of her lungs.
When Ukitake had sent her to the Tenth, Ichigo was not expecting to be ushered by three servants to the Shiba Estate, which was located just between the first and second eastern districts of Rukongai.
Without warning, they proceeded to completely strip her clothes and toss her into a warm bath. Ichigo might have even enjoyed the head massage if another servant hadn’t been trying to scrub every crevice of her body.
The next two hours found Ichigo being stuffed into a complicated furisode , while a new servant arrived to style her hair into an elegant updo.
Casual affair, my ass!
Even if she tried to ask questions or complain, they all responded the same.
“We’re here on Shiba-sama’s orders, please don’t make it difficult for us.”
And how could she possibly argue after that?
When the sun was finally starting to set and Ichigo’s stomach grumbled in hunger, the servants made their final touches as the door beside her slid open to reveal Shiba Enji.
He was in a monochromatic kimono, and looked completely unlike the goofy man she had come to know, Ichigo almost did a double take.
“Ichi-chan!” He squealed, breaking his serious expression. “You look so beautiful!”
Ichigo sent him a half hearted glare, unable to refute him as the servants around her preened at the recognition of their hard work.
“Ukitake told me this was supposed to be casual,” she recalled, crossing her arms.
“Well, I changed my mind when he said it was your birthday,” he said happily, dismissing the servants with a wave of his hand. “And since I already missed the first seventeen, this one needs to make up for it!”
Ichigo just sighed as she helplessly shook her head. “I thought shinigami celebrate their birthdays in decades? Won't people be suspicious if they know I’m only eighteen?”
“And that is why on paper, I added an extra zero in between,” he cackled, waving a rolled up scroll in hand.
She sent him a long look. “I’ve been told that one hundred years is an important milestone for shinigami.”
“That’s right,” he nodded. “It’s the age of adulthood, and for many nobles, their coming-of-age ceremony.”
She shook her head in disbelief, unsure how to feel. “I suppose no one will really notice anyway, as long as my lineage checks out.”
“Don’t worry, Ichi-chan,” he grinned brightly. “You are officially the long lost daughter of my third great-uncle who disappeared two hundred years ago.”
“Splendid,” she said dryly. “You don’t think he’ll suddenly come back?”
“No, he’s definitely dead,” he shrugged. “He was killed in a hollow attack, but the 20th Shiba Head thought his death was too disgraceful that he changed official records.”
Ichigo grimaced. “That sounds… spiteful.”
“Indeed, one of the many ways I’d describe my great-grandfather,” he agreed with a nod, before tucking the document away. “Now come along. It’s time for your grand entrance, Ichi-chan!”
Ichigo was soon pulled to a larger reception hall, trying not to stumble in her restrictive clothes as she appeared before a crowd of people.
Spotting Ukitake and Kyōraku standing to one side, she felt a brief moment of comfort as they gave her a wave.
Mercifully, the ceremony was short as promised, with Ichigo only speaking once in agreement to uphold the beliefs of the Shiba House in front of four elders.
After bowing and receiving a small cup of saké from Shiba Enji, Ichigo was officially declared a member, and the dinner banquet went into full swing.
Being the subject of the celebration, Ichigo was seated near the main table with Enji, receiving guests and trying to remember the names and faces of everyone she met.
“She looks just like Ineshi-sama, doesn’t she?”
“Truly the resemblance is uncanny.”
“Already a fukutaichō of the Thirteenth too, I’m sure Shiba-sama will have inquiries for her hand soon.”
Ichigo felt her eyes twitch, about to shoot the gossiping women a dark look when another guest approached the table.
He was a tall man with dark skin and bright golden eyes, long black hair tied back in a high ponytail, and a mischievous smile on his face.
“Yahiko!” Enji called with a wide grin. “You said you couldn’t make it!”
The man chuckled. “I managed to sneak out. They don’t call me Shunshin for nothing you know.”
“How’s the princess?” Enji asked, his tone teasing and light.
He sighed. “If I had a kan for every time Yoruichi broke something this week—“
Ichigo promptly choked on her tea and coughed as both men stopped mid conversation to look at her.
“Sorry,” she managed through a painful wheeze, quickly waving her hand.
“Late introductions!” Enji said suddenly, reaching over to hit the centre of her back. “Ichigo, this is Shihōin Yahiko, 21st Head of the Shihōin Clan, Captain of the Second Division, and Commander-in-Chief of the Onmitsukidō.”
She hurriedly lowered her head in respect, trying to discreetly wipe her chin of tea. “It’s an honour to meet you.”
“Ah, I apologise for my scattered brain in not greeting you first,” he said, playfully sending her a wink. “I wish you a wonderful birthday and welcome to Enji’s family.”
“Thank you,” she said stiffly, trying to force down her surprise.
Aizen did say Urahara and Yoruichi were already born, but Ichigo hadn’t expected to meet their parents at such an occasion.
“You know, Ichigo, I heard from my Lieutenant that you have a good aptitude for kids,” he said slyly, raising his brow at her. “If you’re ever interested in babysitting—“
“I’m afraid Kurosaki-fukutaichō owes restitution to me.”
Ichigo turned at the familiar voice to see Kuchiki Ginrei approaching from the side, with a few servants surrounding him.
Ichigo leaned over to Enji and hissed under her breath. “You invited him?!”
He sent her a helpless look and whispered back, “I couldn’t just leave him out!”
A small head popped out from behind Kuchiki’s legs, and Sōjun waved cheerily at her. “Onee-san!”
Quickly schooling her features, Ichigo smiled back as the boy came shuffling forward with a small box. “Happy Birthday!”
“Thank you, Sōjun!” She said happily, receiving the gift from his tiny hands. “You look so handsome today.”
Sōjun preened, obviously pleased by his appearance as his father neared the main table.
“Kuchiki,” Shihōin said cooly, sending him a shallow nod. “How unexpected to see you here.”
“Likewise,” Kuchiki replied. “I thought your division would be busy with the recent criminal case.”
"Aha,” Shihōin smiled a bit more sharply. “Not as busy as you, I’m sure.”
Frosty silence settled over them as a few other guests wisely moved away for fear of getting involved. She supposed it was an intimidating sight for three of the Great Noble Heads to gather outside of their Gotei 13 duties.
“Well,” Enji said at last, clearing his throat. “I’m sure Ichigo can swing by and say hello when she’s not caught up in other matters.”
Ichigo could only nod in agreement, glancing between the two dark haired men.
Shihōin relaxed visibly, returning to his previous demeanour. “I look forward to it! Now, I must get going before my lady notices I slipped away— Enji, I’ll see you later for our debriefing.”
“Give Kayo my regards,” Enji waved.
With that, the Second Division Captain sauntered out of the banquet and disappeared into the crowd.
“Onee-san!” Sōjun called, reaching for her sleeve across the table. “Otou-sama said you’d be my new trainer, is it true?”
Ichigo chuckled nervously before shooting Kuchiki a quick glance. “It seems so, Sōjun.”
His small face brightened, eyes shining with excitement. “I’ll be your best student, I promise!”
She reached out to poke at his chubby cheeks with a soft smile. “Alright, don’t stress about it now. Just enjoy the dinner tonight.”
He nodded quickly before giving her and Enji a proper bow, wishing her many years of blessings, then scurried back to where Kuchiki was waiting.
Seemingly having nothing else, Kuchiki sent her and Enji a slow nod before taking his entourage elsewhere.
Ichigo deflated like a balloon as the centre table finally seemed to clear of guests and she shot Enji a tired look.
“I admit, I’d be okay not celebrating my birthday for another century.”
Enji raised an amused brow. “Welcome to nobility, Ichi-chan.”
“So congratulations are in order,” Aizen said dryly.
Ichigo sprawled along the side of a skyscraper, too tired to even look up at him.
“Why do I feel like you’re mocking me?” She muttered into the glass.
“Naturally, because I am indeed mocking you.”
She swirled her head around to glare at him, finding him peacefully lounging on an wooden bench. Where that piece of furniture even came from, Ichigo couldn’t say, but Aizen claimed it had appeared one morning and never left.
“What do you know,” she shot back. “The Shiba have always been good to me, and whether I like it or not, I have ties to them.”
“Precisely due to their good morals is why the Shiba Clan fell from nobility by the time you came around,” Aizen said simply.
Ichigo paused, narrowing her eyes at him. “You’re making it sound like the other nobles were the worst criminals in Seireitei.”
Aizen laughed at that. “How naïve you are, Ichigo. Soul Society was created from the hands of criminals. Did Yhwach tell you nothing while you two enjoyed yourselves in the Royal Realm?”
“I’m sorry, I guess I was too busy trying not to die!” She said grouchily.
Aizen hummed disinterestedly. “Are you aware of what would have happened if the worlds collapsed into one with the death of the Soul King?”
Ichigo clenched her hands, remembering all too clearly the moment it happened. “Yhwach said he wanted a world without the fear of death.”
“And that’s exactly what the world was like before it was forcibly split,” Aizen explained.
“Sounds like chaos,” she murmured.
“What is chaos in the face of eternity with no death?” Aizen shrugged.
“And how is this related to the Noble Clans?” She asked, nearly having forgotten their original topic.
“Because their ancestors are ones who committed what is known as the original sin ,” Aizen revealed. “While the Soul King was keeping balance in the Primordial World, five people rose up, dissatisfied with the status quo.”
Ichigo frowned. “The clans?”
“Yes, although they were not considered noble at that point,” Aizen said offhandedly. “The five of them decided to use the Soul King’s power to split the world into what we have today— Soul Society, the Living World, Hueco Mundo, and the Dangai.”
“What, and the Soul King just let them?” She scoffed.
Aizen paused, and silence settled between them as Ichigo backtracked and turned to look at him in shock.
“Wait— really?”
“I have my own theories as to why, but yes, he was willingly sealed,” Aizen said evenly. “However, this is not where their sin ends. I presume you witnessed for yourself, the state of the Soul King?”
Ichigo hesitated for a moment then frowned. “He looked… weird. He had no arms or legs, and was just floating in a crystal.”
“Because led by the Tsunayashiro Clan, they mutilated the Soul King, ripping away his limbs, his heart and other organs,” he said, his voice growing low. “They left him in a state between life and death, caged to be an empty linchpin for eternity.”
Ichigo felt her breath hitch at the revelation of their cruelty, and stared down at her open hand— the one Yhwach had forcibly used to cut the Soul King in half.
She wondered if he had considered it mercy. Not only would it return the world to its original state, but it would finally end the Soul King’s suffering.
Did gods like the Soul King even feel pain?
She raised her head, about to ask Aizen the very question, when she noticed his unusual expression. His eyes were unfocused, as if staring right past her, and Ichigo distinctly felt his state of melancholy.
“Are you sad?” She blurted in disbelief.
The question seemed to jostle him, and Aizen immediately regained his composure. “Sad ? What a ridiculous notion to impart onto me, Ichigo.”
She didn’t relent. “Do you pity him then?”
He glanced away, seemingly unwilling to meet her eyes. “Perhaps I feel that his great power and omnipotence was a waste.”
Ichigo knew there was more he wanted to express but didn’t continue to push. If there was one thing she knew about Aizen’s character, it was his unbiased respect for strength, and his deep desire to find someone like him.
Ironically, she learned the most about Aizen when they crossed blades during their final fight, and all Ichigo felt was his intense loneliness and alienation.
“Would you have preferred all the worlds collapsing back into one?” She asked.
“No,” he said resolutely. “Without the fear of death, we will stagnate and lose progress. There is no growth, no potential for anything new.”
“Hm,” she nodded. “I agree.”
Comfortable silence settled between them and Ichigo glanced towards the horizon of her inner world, finding the bright blue sky pleasing to her eyes.
“Allow me to raise a question of morality to you, Ichigo,” Aizen suddenly spoke again. “Although, I am already certain of your response.”
She raised a brow at him. “And that is?”
His serious gaze bore into her. “Would you have willingly replaced the Soul King?”
Ichigo nearly spluttered. “What kind of question is that? Even if I was crazy and somehow did it willingly, I don’t have such god-like powers.”
Aizen seemed genuinely surprised at her answer, then exhaled softly in disappointment. “Truly, your ignorance knows no end, but perhaps I should have expected this.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” she demanded, feeling a dark sense of foreboding.
Aizen pressed his chin into the palm of his hand for a long beat of silence, as if contemplating his next words.
“The true reason you were brought into the Royal Realm,” he said evenly. “Do you really not know?”
Feeling as if she was slapped, Ichigo blinked in confusion, trying to organise her jumbled memories.
“The reason we’re taking you, Ichigo, is different.”
“It was… to repair Zangetsu,” she muttered, shaking her head.
“In denial?” Aizen goaded, voice calm. “This is known as the first stage of grief.”
“Shut up!” She scowled, jumping to her feet. “What do you know anyway? Did the Royal Guard visit you in Muken and spill all their secrets?”
“They didn’t have to,” he said simply. “The Zero Division moves for one reason, and one reason only— for matters that regard the Soul King.”
“They never once said anything about him,” she insisted.
Aizen gave her a long look.
“Instead, they filled your head with delusions and empty promises, training you in the hopes that you’d be able to hold off Yhwach for just enough time,” he continued scathingly. “They did not expect you to survive, Ichigo, much less win. Your presence there was always a failsafe for when they needed a new linchpin, and Ichibē Hyōsube would have sealed you in eternal amber, then killed your friends one by one should they have interfered.”
Ichigo crumpled back down in horror, feeling her legs suddenly lose strength. The sting of betrayal hurt more than she had expected, and she felt cold sweat run down her back.
“You’re lying,” she finally managed to reply, voice weak. “I wouldn’t be powerful enough to replace the Soul King.”
“On the contrary, you are the best candidate,” Aizen remarked. “The perfect hybrid with Quincy, Hollow, and Shinigami powers, but also carrying a fragment of the Soul King.”
Ichigo clutched her chest, knowing he was referring to her Fullbring. She wanted to lash out in anger, but had no idea what to even say.
A cold drop of water fell onto the back of her hand, and Ichigo glanced up to see the previously blue sky now covered in storm clouds.
Rain began to fall faster, quickly drenching her clothes and plastering her hair onto the sides of her face, but she remained frozen in place.
“Are you crying, Ichigo?”
She turned at the familiar voice, seeing Zangetsu appear behind her, soaked in rain. His yellow eyes looked brighter than normal as he stared down with a solemn expression.
“Did you know too?” She demanded, voice hoarse with emotion.
His white hand reached out, covering her entire face as his fingers gently wrapped around her head and blocked her sight.
“Ichigo,” he said slowly. “The things that you want to protect, are not the things that I want to protect.”
The familiar words of Tensa Zangetsu echoed in her ears and she was jolted with an impossible realisation.
Aizen had said the Hōgyoku dissolved the boundaries between their souls in order to use her power, but that meant to a certain extent, Zangetsu had cooperated to send her back.
She moved to yank his hand off. “Zangetsu! You—“
He suddenly pushed against her head, throwing her off the side of the skyscraper, and Ichigo plummeted through the air in sheer disbelief, watching his figure grow smaller and smaller as she fell.
She plunged into the dark water below, hearing his voice reverberate in her head as she was swallowed in darkness.
“I did it to protect you.”
Notes:
I've always wondered if Tensa Zangetsu's appearance is what Zangetsu is really supposed to look like, with both the hollow and quincy parts merged together- it's definitely my favorite version.
Also, it was mentioned in CFYOW that Ichibei took Yhwach's corpse after the final battle and used it as the new soul king, which I always thought was crazy 💀 I guess it's like father, like son? LOL
Chapter 6
Notes:
The new anime episodes have been crazy! I'm glad they're expanding on the Squad Zero fight and showing a bit more history than what Kubo couldn't cover in the manga. Hope everyone has it been enjoying it as much as I have! Otherwise, I'm glad y'all liked the last chapter and here's onto the next~
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Ichigo never thought there’d be a day when she was grateful to do paperwork, but the mind numbing repetition while she sat alone in her office kept her more despairing thoughts at bay.
Truthfully, there was no real reason for Ichigo to be dismayed. The Zero Division might have accepted her with nefarious intentions, but she was never the type of person who could sit around anyway, and decided by her own will to face Yhwach.
Along the same vein, Zangetsu did what he did because of his uncertainty and desire to keep Ichigo from further harm. If Ichibē or the other guards decided to come after her, she wasn’t certain of victory or even escape.
When the balance of the world was at stake, and the lives of her friends were collateral— did she even have a choice?
In the end, Ichigo could only blame herself for not being strong enough.
It was a strange feeling of loss. She had defeated the enemy, learned the truth of her past, and even reconciled with Zangetsu, but just like the time she invaded Soul Society to save Rukia, Ichigo had missed the true intentions of those around her.
“My daughter, born in the darkness.”
Ichigo wanted to laugh. How right Yhwach had been about her— everyone from Urahara to Aizen to Ichibē and even Isshin, they all played a part with their secrets and conspiracies while she remained blissfully unaware.
She must have looked like such a fool.
Grabbing a mission report from the top corner of her desk, Ichigo abruptly got up, placed Zangetsu along her back, and walked towards the office next door.
“Satoshi, Naoya,” she called, poking her head inside to see the 3rd and 4th organising more work at their desks.
“Kurosaki-fukutaichō!” Satoshi got to his feet. “What can we do for you?”
“I’m stepping away for a few days,” she said, glancing at the report in her hands to double check the contents. “To Nejime. There’s been multiple reports of a hollow that I’m going to investigate.”
“Nejime?” Naoya repeated in surprise. “That’s quite far out. Which squad are you taking with you?”
“I’m going alone,” she revealed. “There’s already two casualties on file before the report got transferred to our Division, it’ll be too dangerous to take others.”
Satoshi frowned but didn’t argue. “When are you leaving? Should I put in a request for the Senkaimon?”
Ichigo shook her head. “No need, I’m leaving now. I’ll be on foot.”
“Nejime is in the 42nd District, fukutaichō,” Naoya reminded with wide eyes. “It’ll take you weeks to get there and back!”
She lifted up her hand. “Don’t worry, I’m quick. I’ll be back in three days.”
Ignoring their protests for her safety, Ichigo closed the door before leaping onto the rooftops and headed towards the northern gate.
She knew the two of them would inform Ukitake of her absence, which would save her from having to speak to him on why she was temporarily running away from her duties.
Ichigo quickly learned that her captain’s gentle demeanour would cause her to spill all her emotional woes, but she knew this was one she had to keep personal— at least, for now.
She signed off at the official checkpoint, briefly nodding to the giant Seireimon gatekeeper, and began running deeper into Rukongai.
It had taken her five days to travel from the 80th district to Seireitei in her exhausted state after first arriving, so she knew with her recovered shunpo speed, she could easily cover the distance again.
Ichigo moved fast, using reishi to create footholds above the villages in Rukongai as she passed by, so she didn’t accidentally ruin someone’s roof or startle spiritually aware souls.
She arrived at Nejime within a day, and Ichigo glanced at the mission report again, trying to pinpoint the exact location within the district woods. She was getting closer to the reported coordinates when she felt a familiar reiatsu signature in the air and abruptly froze.
It was unmistakable.
Pivoting on her heel, Ichigo moved forward with a sense of urgency, arriving at the marked clearing within seconds. A tall man with long spiky black hair stood before the fallen body of an Adjuchas, his long sword embedded in its neck.
“Someone is behind you!” A childish voice called out, and Ichigo saw a glimpse of familiar pink hair.
The man turned to glance over his shoulder, and Ichigo met eyes with Zaraki Kenpachi.
Other than his missing eyepatch, his face looked relatively the same, perhaps a little thinner, and he was clothed in a ragged haori.
“Shinigami?” He said, carefully eyeing her. “You here for the hollow?”
Ichigo calmed her frantic heart, checked the report again and made a quick comparison, finding that it was indeed the hollow in question. “It appears so.”
“The bounty is mine,” he said resolutely, before cocking his head at her and grinning widely. “But if you want to fight me for it, I won’t refuse.”
Ichigo felt a smile tug at their lips at the familiar man. He truly hadn’t changed one bit. “I’m not interested in the bounty. I just needed to remove the threat.”
“Shame,” he huffed, glancing up and down at her. “You seem a lot stronger than the idiots who run the bounty collection office. That badge on your arm mean something?”
“I’m the Lieutenant of the Thirteenth Division, Kurosaki Ichigo,” she introduced.
“Lieutenant?” He said excitedly, his grin growing wider. “I’m Kenpachi, from Zaraki. This is Yachiru.”
“Hi Ichi-chan!” She waved happily, perched along his shoulder.
Ichigo smiled. If only her first meeting with him had been this pleasant. “I won’t steal your bounty so don’t worry. I’m pretty sure it’s a crime for me to have unsanctioned fights with Rukongai citizens anyway.”
“Che, boring,” he muttered, looking thoroughly disappointed. “You shinigami are so uptight with your laws. You look like you could use a good fight.”
Ichigo blinked in surprise, wondering how he was able to pinpoint exactly what she came out for in the first place.
“I did it to protect you.”
Ichigo lowered her gaze, taking a deep breath as she found herself shifting through memories. Just three years ago, she was standing before Kenpachi in Seireitei, hands bloody and weak, having barely walked away with her life.
She slowly raised her head, finding his gaze still upon her, anticipation making his reiatsu nearly vibrate around him.
“I’ll fight you on one condition,” she said, extending out her arms.
“Name it!” he said excitedly.
She smiled at their role reversal. “If you can cut me.”
His grin faltered. “Cut you?”
“Aim anywhere, I won’t move,” she said simply. “If you can cut me, I’ll fight you.”
“I’ve never met anything, much less anyone I couldn’t cut,” Kenpachi laughed maniacally. “I don’t know what tricks you’ve got up your sleeve but you better hope they pull through, Kurosaki Ichigo!”
Yachiru however, didn’t seem as excited. “Ken-chan…”
“Stand aside, Yachiru,” he ordered, pulling her off his shoulder. “You don’t want blood on your clothes.”
Ichigo just watched their interaction with a strange sense of peace, unmoving.
“A free shot, whenever you’re ready,” she reminded, holding her hands out.
Kenpachi ripped his sword out from the Hollow, flicking the blood off to the one side before shooting her a wide grin. “Here I come!”
The concept of knowing something versus seeing it with her own eyes had never been so important until now. When it came to her own growth and powers, Ichigo always had a hard time grasping the lengths to which she had gotten stronger.
Then Kenpachi came swinging down into the crook of her shoulder, but the blade slammed against her blut vene, abruptly stopping his momentum.
In three years, she had managed to grow against impossible odds and clawed herself through fire and blood. If she had the next century, or even the next decade— would Zangetsu finally trust in her strength to not only protect others but herself?
“What the hell are you?” Zaraki asked, staring down at her with wild eyes of confusion.
Ichigo laughed, sliding her fingers under the edge of his sword to push it off. “Thanks, Kenpachi. You were right— I needed this.”
His expression of surprise soon turned into joy, thrilled by the sudden challenge she posed.
“There’s no way I’m letting you just walk away,” he said with a manic laugh. “If you won’t tell me what you are, I’ll just have to try again and find out!”
He forcibly ripped his sword away from her grasp, before whipping back around to slash across her neck.
Ichigo could sense there was significantly more force applied this time, and gathered reishi along her throat, prepared to augment her defense if needed.
It took multiple attempts for Kenpachi to pierce Nnoitra’s hierro five hundred years into the future, but Ichigo knew that if he really put his mind to it, he’d eventually be able to cut her. The two were similar in that regard, evolving in the midst of adversary.
Her blut, however, held up for the second time and his sword dragged harmlessly along her neck.
“I think that’s enough,” she said, raising her brow at him. “I wasn’t kidding when I said it’s against the law.”
“Screw the laws!” he bellowed, flashing a step back to create some distance between them. “I’m only here to have a good time fighting!”
He charged her again, his reiatsu permeating the atmosphere with killing intent, and Ichigo quickly considered her options.
She could definitely outspeed him and just run away, especially since her mission was already taken care of, or she could try to put him down with one big attack, giving him what he wanted.
He wouldn’t die from it, right?
She reached over her shoulder, slowly pulling Zangetsu free as reiatsu erupted around her, shrouding her in golden light.
“Getsuga— ”
“Ken-chan, stop!!”
Shocked by Yachiru’s sudden scream, Ichigo also froze just as Kenpachi skidded to a halt barely an arm’s length away from her. The two locked eyes before turning to look at Yachiru, who had gotten to her feet on the sidelines and held her fists clenched in front of her.
“Don’t fight,” she pleaded, her large eyes wide with alarm.
Ichigo was stunned, realising that Yachiru was looking directly at her, not Kenpachi.
It was one thing for Yachiru to admonish Kenpachi’s crazy tendencies, but it was a different ordeal if she was scared for him. Sure, she had witnessed Ichigo tanking his attacks, but how could Yachiru have accurately gauged Ichigo’s strength when they hadn’t even touched each other?
“Sorry,” Ichigo said at last, releasing Zangetsu’s handle. “We won’t fight.”
Kenpachi seemed more shaken, glancing between her and Yachiru with a serious expression before finally relaxing his stance with a disappointed sigh.
“Fine,” he muttered, before shooting Ichigo a long look. “I’ll let you off this time, shinigami.”
Yachiru came running up to her as Kenpachi turned around, walking back towards the hollow’s corpse with slumped shoulders.
“Ichi-chan,” Yachiru waved her hand, beckoning her closer.
Ichigo squatted down, so that they were eye level. “Yeah?”
Yachiru leaned closer to whisper in her ear. “Thank you for not killing Ken-chan.”
She blinked in surprise, glancing at the pink haired girl as if seeing her for the first time. “You…”
“Yachiru!” Kenpachi yelled from across the clearing, heaving the severed hollow head over his shoulder. “Let’s go!”
Yachiru smiled at Ichigo. “I promise we’ll grow stronger, so next time, Ken-chan and Ichi-chan can have fun fighting!”
We?
Before she could ask, Yachiru scurried away, leaping onto Kenpachi’s free shoulder and waving at her.
“Bye Ichi-chan!”
Kenpachi sent her a low nod, before the two soon disappeared from her sight, leaving Ichigo alone in the clearing.
The whole encounter wasn’t exactly what she had envisioned when she left Seireitei to blow off some steam, but Ichigo supposed she couldn’t complain about seeing a familiar face.
Aizen mentioned that Kenpachi had already been alive for the past millennia, and she wondered what he had been doing this entire time, living in Rukongai.
What made him want to join the Gotei?
Shaking away her sudden sense of anxiety, unsure if she had once again changed the trajectory of the future, Ichigo glanced at the report for her next steps.
She conducted a quick assessment of the woods for any lingering rifts from Hueco Mundo, wanting to make sure no other hollows would show up; and after a few hours, she deemed the district safe.
Even though she was tired from the day’s travel, Ichigo didn’t want to spend the night and decided to promptly return to Seireitei.
There were still so many things she had to learn and master, wasting time while waiting for the solution to return home didn’t seem like an option anymore.
She needed to face Zangetsu again.
When Ichigo returned to Seireitei, she made her first stop at Ukitake’s office, opening the door to see Satoshi and Naoya in the midst of conversation.
“Kurosaki-fukutaichō!” They chorused, clamouring to their feet.
Ukitake’s eyes brightened. “Ichigo, you’re back!”
She gave them a bemused smile. “What? I said I’d be back in three days.”
Naoya pursed his lips. “You just looked so depressed before leaving—”
Satoshi jammed his elbow into Naoya’s ribs, cutting his words off. “We were just worried for you, fukutaichō!”
Ichigo sighed softly. “I’m fine, I just wanted to stretch my legs for a bit. How was everything during my absence?”
“Everyone worked hard during morning drills, and our division is still exceeding weekly mission criteria,” Satoshi remarked dutifully.
“Good,” she smiled. “Maybe I should take breaks more often, huh?”
Satoshi nodded and Naoya looked torn between supporting her wishes and despairing over the extra workload.
“Alright, you two, be on your way,” Ukitake finally spoke, waving his hand. “I’ll get Ichigo up to speed.”
Giving both of them a respectful bow, the two left Ukitake’s office and Ichigo settled down in their place across the desk.
“Sorry, I took on the mission without informing you,” she lowered her head, feeling guilty. “I won’t do it again.”
“It’s okay, Ichigo,” he said gently. “I understand that you had your own matters, and you were gone for barely three days. I hope your trip was fruitful?”
She scratched the back of her head, wondering how much to tell him about Kenpachi. “Well, I managed to meet a familiar face, and I think it was just what I needed to get some focus back.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” he said with a nod. “If you feel the need to take time off in the future, just let me know.”
Ichigo hesitated for a split second before speaking. “Actually, I was wondering if we had any training grounds in our division that were more… closed off? Or somewhere far away where no one could get hurt?”
Ukitake seemed to consider her requests before giving her a curious look. “We don’t have any private grounds near our division, but there is a place Shunsui and I used to use. It’s an underground space that was connected to his family’s home a few centuries ago.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude on family property,” Ichigo quickly waved her hands, backtracking. “Or, uh, accidentally destroy anything.”
Ukitake laughed lightly. “Not to worry, Ichigo. After the Kyōraku House rose in noble rank, they moved to a different section of Seireitei. It’s been many years since that home had occupants.”
“Would Kyōraku not mind?” she asked, still worried.
“I’m sure he’d be happy that his old home is getting some use,” he replied. “If you’d like, I can set up some bakudō around the area to help contain your training. I’m sure the old ones have weakened considerably by now.”
“Thank you,” she said sincerely, inwardly adding kidō barriers to the list of things to learn. “I would really appreciate that.”
“Let me show you the way,” Ukitake said, getting to his feet. “I’ll send for Shunsui to meet us there.”
After sending off a hell butterfly, Ichigo followed Ukitake to the north-eastern section of Seireitei, walking half an hour into the residential district until they came across a small estate.
It was clearly empty but looked somewhat cared for, and Ichigo guessed that a servant had been coming by to maintain the property.
Ukitake led her through the main gates and into a small yard, stopping before a wooden trap door hidden within the grass.
“It’s been a long time,” Uktiake said with a nostalgic smile, wiping away the dirt.
With a twist of his hand, he yanked the door open, revealing a long ladder into pitch black darkness. Without waiting, Ukitake dropped inside and after a beat of hesitation, Ichigo followed.
As they fell, she heard Ukitake whisper a kidō spell, and the entire place suddenly lit up as if the sun had been transported inside— just in time for Ichigo to see the ground approaching.
Padding her landing with reishi, Ichigo dropped softly behind Ukitake, glancing around the area with curious eyes. While Urahara had modelled his underground chamber after the western badlands, this one looked much like an empty field in Rukongai, covered in patches of grass, weeds, and sparse trees along the edges. It was also half as small, but Ichigo didn’t mind.
“Wow,” she breathed, “can I really use this place?”
“Does it suit your needs?” Ukitake asked hopefully.
She nodded. “It’s more than enough! I just needed a place away from prying eyes.”
Ukitake gave her a serious look. “Ichigo, I must ask— just what sort of training will you be doing here?”
Realising that he deserved to know the truth, Ichigo nervously rubbed the back of her neck.
“I… haven’t been entirely honest about my powers,” she admitted, slowly lifting her gaze. “I’m sure you’ve already sensed that my reiryoku feels a little strange?”
Uktiake nodded calmly. “It was one of the first things I noticed, and Unohana made a mention of it as well.”
“Part of it is because my mother was a Quincy,” she confessed warily.
Ichigo knew the Quincy genocide was still three hundred years away, but she guessed that after the first war, most shinigami didn’t have a positive opinion of them.
Ukitake’s eyes widened, and Ichigo could practically see the cogs turning in his head. “I must admit, I didn’t know it was possible for Shinigami and Quincy to have children, but I suppose that would explain what I saw when you first arrived here.”
“What do you mean?” she asked with a frown.
“Were you unaware of your ability?” Ukitake raised his brows. “While unconscious, you were absorbing the reishi in Shunsui’s division, very much like a Quincy. ”
Recalling what Quilge Opie had done to Hueco Mundo, Ichigo blinked in shock. “I didn’t destroy anything or hurt anyone did I?”
“Not at all,” Ukitake reassured, shaking his head. “Unohana was able to stabilise you quickly enough and there was minimal damage to his office.”
Ichigo eased her stiff shoulders before nodding. “Well, my mother was attacked by a hollow a few years before I was born. It tried to assimilate her soul, but I eventually inherited the hollow from her, and it ended up merging with me instead.”
“Hollowfication?” Ukitake finished, looking aghast.
“You already know what that is?” Ichigo asked in surprise.
As far as she was aware, Urahara and Aizen were the first to attempt it.
Ukitake sighed softly, pressing his fingers along his forehead. “Right after the Quincy invasion, the Central 46 authorised research into Hollowfication in order to create soldiers for war— specifically, hybrid Shinigami that could counter the Quincy.”
“They did?” She gasped, wide eyed. “Did they succeed?”
Ukitake shook his head solemnly. “The trials went horribly wrong, and hollowfied Shinigami caused mayhem in Seireitei. The project was quickly shut down, all the research was destroyed, and those involved were swiftly executed.”
“But that’s…” she said breathlessly, thinking of Shinji and his group. “They didn’t even try to help?”
“That’s unfortunately the way our judiciary is, Ichigo,” Ukitake said softly. “The Central 46 had completely banned any further study or even mention of Hollowfication, so the entire incident was covered up.”
Knowing she was five hundred years too late to do anything about the situation, Ichigo could only nod in acceptance.
“Well,” she muttered, “I was certainly hoping to avoid execution.”
Ukitake smiled at her small joke. “Is there any chance that you’ll lose control and hurt someone?”
“Not at all!” she denied quickly. At least, not anymore. “I’m fully in control of myself— I was just worried that people would panic after sensing hollow reiatsu in Seireitei.”
He hummed in agreement. “You make a valid point. It’ll be safer for you to be here for the time being.”
“Thank you,” she sighed heavily in relief.
“Train without worry,” Ukitake said with a gentle smile. “I’ll keep watch and make sure your reiatsu does not leave these walls.”
Ichigo nodded gratefully before settling on the ground into jinzen. “I’m ready.”
When Ichigo opened her eyes to her inner world, she was satisfied to see that the rain had stopped. The storm clouds that had nearly flooded her world were gone, replaced by blue skies.
“Your turnaround time was quicker than I expected.”
Ichigo glanced behind her to see Aizen sitting on the wooden bench, exactly where she had left him.
“Aizen,” she greeted calmly.
“I see your heart is composed,” he remarked. “A far cry from the state you left in.”
“Where’s Zangetsu?” she asked.
His figure suddenly materialised far across from her, walking towards them with dual blades in hand. His expression was empty of his usual unhinged grin, replaced by an unwavering stare.
Ichigo didn’t have to exchange words before unsheathing her own Zangetsu, splitting the swords apart with an effortless tug.
“I feel like I’m intruding on a very special moment,” Aizen said with a wry smile.
“Shut up, Aizen,” she muttered, her eyes trained on Zangetsu’s approach. “Just sit there nicely and watch.”
Zangetsu came to a slow stop, still a distance away from her, but she knew the gap could easily be closed in a single shunpo step.
“Surely you’re not expecting this to be easy, Ichigo,” Zangetsu said, his voice low in warning. “You’re nowhere close to mastering this blade.”
She fell into a readied stance, unwavering in her gaze. “You gave me five hundred extra years, so I'm gonna show you just how far I can go.”
“And you think I’m just gonna trust your word?” he mocked.
Ichigo felt a determined smile stretch her lips as a memory of Old-Man Zangetsu surfaced to the forefront of her mind.
The blade is me.
“If you trust me, I won’t let a single drop of rain fall from this sky.”
Zangetsu’s eyes widened every so slightly before narrowing into an intense glare, and settled into a stance of his own.
Then the fight began.
Shunsui arrived just in time to see Jūshirō finish setting up an array of Kidō barriers, noting Ichigo sitting near the centre in jinzen.
“You're here,” Jūshirō called, waving him over. “I hope you don’t mind that I rented out our old spot.”
He snorted out a laugh. “I’m glad it’s seeing some use instead of gathering dust for another few centuries.”
“That’s what I told her,” Jūshirō said with a smile.
“What’s been—”
Before he could finish, an explosion of heavy reiatsu slammed into them, causing cracks to appear along the inner barrier, and an arc of blood burst along Ichigo’s shoulder as if an invisible sword had cut her.
Jūshirō moved to jump forward, eyes wide with concern. “Ichigo!”
“Wait!” Shunsui cried, quickly intercepting him.
A shroud of golden light began swirling around Ichigo’s body, and Shunsui realised it was her reiatsu visibly manifesting in a strange form. For a split second, he saw what looked like hollow teeth take shape above her head before twisting away. Unwilling to stay so close, Shunsui grabbed Jūshirō’s elbow and pulled him further back.
“What is going on?” He demanded, glancing at his closest friend. “Why does Ichigo feel like a hollow all of a sudden?”
Jūshirō looked sheepish, before turning more solemn. “To condense long matters— a hollow merged with Ichigo’s soul before she was born. I suspect it’s the true source of her zanpakutō’s power that she’s trying to draw out.”
“Hollowfication?” He asked, keeping a cautious eye on Ichigo’s still form. “How could it happen in the womb?”
“I’m not sure either,” Jūshirō admitted. “She also mentioned her mother was a Quincy.”
“A Quincy?” He repeated in genuine shock. “That makes even less sense! Hollows are poison to them.”
“I’m sure someone five hundred years into the future was smart enough to figure it out,” Jūshirō said with a soft shake of his head. “How else would Ichigo be here?”
Shunsui stared at the girl in question with bewilderment. “A Shinigami father and a Quincy mother, add to that mix a hollow— what the hell does that make Ichigo?”
“Someone very powerful,” Jūshirō murmured. “Let’s not kid ourselves, Shunsui— she’s only three years into training and already at this level.”
Another blast of reiatsu slammed against the barrier, and a long cut appeared along her cheek, spilling blood down the side of her face.
“She has one nasty zanpakutō,” he muttered, having a good idea as to what was currently happening inside her soul. “If Yama-jī, or the Central 46 hears of this—“
“We can’t let it happen,” Jūshirō said sternly, eyes darkening. “Ichigo trusted us with this knowledge. We can’t betray her.”
Shunsui sighed. “I wasn’t planning on it, but I’m worried about the future. We shinigami live half our lives in battle.”
“If it really comes down to that, then we’ll do everything in our power to prevent injustices from happening against her,” he said resolutely, crossing his arms.
He huffed, feeling a small smile at his lips. “She’s really grown on you, huh?”
Jūshirō’s expression softened. “She’s a good kid, Shunsui. I can tell she carried a lot on her shoulders before coming here, and I want to help her relax.”
“My only concern is her near desperate need for more strength,” he said seriously. “She’s clearly training for something.”
Or someone.
The reality of the second Quincy War grew like a silent ghost between them, and Shunsui felt a heavy burden weighing in his heart.
He considered briefly if this was how Ichigo constantly felt, knowing what was to come in the future and trying everything in her power to hold the world up alone.
“I wonder if we lost,” he muttered, thinking about Yhwach’s inevitable return.
He remembered what Seireitei looked like when the first Quincy war ended, and he had no desire to see such a sight of destruction again.
“Don’t think about it,” Jūshirō admonished him. “Let’s just do what we can to get stronger.”
Before he could muster up a response, he sensed Ichigo’s reiatsu suddenly grow, vibrating like a ticking bomb and Shunsui noticed that the large sword on her lap was turning white. He quickly extended his hand without hesitation, refusing to underestimate her again.
“Bakudō 81: Dankū!”
A translucent wall sprang up just as a massive explosion ignited across from them, shaking the entire cavern as a cloud of dust covered everything in sight.
Then the world went silent.
Ichigo’s reiatsu, which had felt like a heavy blanket over all of his senses, abruptly vanished. Had he not felt Jūshirō’s familiar presence beside him, Shunsui would have thought he suddenly lost the ability to detect others.
In all the years he trained under Yamamoto, or even during the Quincy war when Zanka no Tachi was released— not once did Shunsui ever lose sight of his mentor’s reiatsu.
Then what did that mean for Ichigo?
Cold sweat broke out along his back, and he squinted through the debris, able to see Ichigo’s figure slowly stand up.
But the silhouette didn’t seem right.
His hands lowered, slowly closing around the hilts of his zanpakutō as the side of Ichigo’s face emerged from the dust. A long white horn protruded from her temple, and thick black markings extended down her face and neck.
A bright yellow eye moved to look in their direction and Shunsui tensed, realising that something must have gone wrong.
“Shunsui, wait,” Jūshirō warned, placing his hand atop his.
Then Ichigo turned towards them fully, revealing the other half of her face, seemingly perfectly normal, and a large smile stretched across her lips.
“Kyōraku-taichō!” She raised a hand, greeting him happily. “When did you arrive?”
Shunsui opened his mouth to reply but found himself rather dumbstruck by her new appearance. The black markings extended down her chest, converging into a large hollow hole directly through her sternum. Her left sclera was also black, with a beady yellow iris that reflected no light, a sharp contrast to the familiar warm brown in her right eye.
He couldn’t understand what he was seeing.
“Not long ago,” he managed, trying to keep his voice even. “Jūshirō was catching me up to speed on… things.”
Ichigo seemed to sense his staring and scratched her head nervously. “This is, uh… my true form in shikai. Looks a little crazy, right?”
“You look absolutely fine, Ichigo,” Jūshirō interjected without missing a beat, sending her a reassuring smile. “Nothing that we can’t get used to.”
Her expression seemed to brighten at that, and she came jogging forward.
“I actually wanted to thank you two—”
Before she could say anything more, Ichigo crashed face first into the dankū barrier, shattering the bakudō and nearly toppled backwards from the rebound, clutching her nose and hollow horn, which seemed to have taken the brunt of the impact.
“W-What the hell?” She spluttered, blushing in embarrassment as she finally seemed to notice the transparent kidō wall fall to pieces at her feet. “Uh—”
Jūshirō burst out laughing and Shunsui found himself snorting in amusement, finally allowing his tense shoulders to drop.
Shunsui flicked his hand, dissolving the remains of the barrier, and tried not to think about how she had broken a level 81 kidō by simply walking into it.
“Come here, Ichigo— you have a lot of explaining to do.”
Notes:
A surprise appearance by one of my faves, Kenpachi! Based on the other Bleach novel, Spirits are Forever With You, there's a few more Kenpachi title holders that come before him, so I'm still debating on how early I'd like to bring him in - he's another fun one to write.
In regards to Ichigo, I think I'll write about her training here and there, but honestly, it's hard to estimate how much time it'd take for her to master her new abilities. All I know is by the end of five hundred years, she's gonna be busted as heck 😂
Chapter 7
Notes:
So I finally finished watching season 2, and wow, I'm so glad the anime is doing the Royal Guard fight justice. The Blood Oath Seal and the reveal of Senjumaru's Bankai was insane! They kinda wrote her bankai out to be like what I had envisioned for Ichigo, so that's awkward, but I'll work hard on making it distinct for this story (and of course, OP as heck 😈). Hope you enjoy the chapter!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
When Ichigo visited the Kuchiki Manor for the second time, she was surprised to see that nearly every servant and guard greeted her with great respect.
She wasn’t sure if it was because of her new affiliation with the Shiba, or having been brought by official invitation, Ichigo felt distinctly awkward as she stepped through the pristine gates.
Kuchiki Ginrei had obviously cloaked his reiatsu and made himself scarce, but Ichigo could still sense his gaze as she accompanied Sōjun and Koharu to the training hall.
Koharu, as she learned, was Kuchiki Ginrei’s sister-in-law, and had taken it upon herself to look after Sōjun since his mother’s passing. She reminded Ichigo of the elderly woman who lived down the street from the clinic, exuding a sense of dignity and poise even in her old age.
“Kurosaki-fukutaichō, I wanted to first apologise for mistaking your identity that night.”
Ichigo quickly waved her hands, flustered. “It’s no problem! Please, just call me Ichigo.”
The corners of Koharu’s eyes crinkled as she smiled gently. “Good child, I hope you don’t misunderstand Ginrei’s heart; it’s not his intention to punish you.”
“Yeah, I figured,” she nodded, recalling Shiba Enji’s words. “I’m happy to just spend time with Sōjun.”
Ichigo glanced at the boy in question, watching him practise simple zanjutsu forms with a wooden sword. He was too young to start any formal training, and by that fact alone, she knew Kuchiki wasn’t overly serious.
“I’m glad to hear that,” Koharu’s face brightened. “Sōjun tends to get lonely in the manor, and has developed a bad habit of sneaking out.”
“Well, he’s still just a kid,” she pointed out.
“Yes, but as the Kuchiki heir, I’m afraid his childhood will be stricter than most,” she replied.
Ichigo turned her head in surprise. “There’s no one else?”
“Not in the main line,” Koharu shook her head. “If Sōjun grows up and rejects the position, he’ll be forced by the elders to wed and provide a new heir, as I doubt Ginrei will remarry.”
Wondering if that was how Byakuya’s life came to be, Ichigo could only grimace in distaste. It was no wonder he always looked so dead inside.
“What about you?” Ichigo asked carefully.
Koharu smiled slightly. “What about me? I’m just an old widow now, without my husband and son.”
“Both of them?” She asked in horror. “I-I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright, Ichigo,” she said gently. “It’s been many years now, and I’ve made peace with it. I’m just happy Ginrei allowed me to stay in the main house.”
“For what reason would he have kicked you out?” Ichigo frowned.
Koharu looked at her with amusement. “That’s just the way most noble families are. When a new Head is instated, it’s tradition for all those linked with the previous Head to be moved to a branch family, or in my case, a monastery.”
“That sounds pretty heartless,” she huffed, crossing her arms. “You’re all family, still.”
“Oh, there’s no doubt you’re a Shiba,” Koharu laughed softly, raising a hand to cover her mouth. “I see that you’ve already been instilled with their values.”
Ichigo rubbed the back of her head, feeling her cheeks redden. “I don’t mean to be self-righteous or anything… I guess it’s good that you’ve been allowed to stay.”
“I think so too,” Koharu smiled, her eyes warm. “I’m glad Ginrei listened to my recommendation and invited you here.”
Ichigo blinked in surprise. “Wait— this was your idea?”
“Perhaps,” Koharu said slyly. “I may not be a shinigami, but my intuition tells me that you are something special. Call it a widow’s selfish wish, but I wanted to create ties with you, Ichigo.”
“Oh, uh—“ she stammered, feeling embarrassed. “I still have a lot to learn… unless you need me to beat people up? I’m pretty good at that.”
Koharu burst into laughter, seemingly caught off guard before quickly composing herself. “I believe that would be an abuse of your authority, but I’ll keep the offer close to my heart.”
Ichigo smiled in return. “Anytime.”
“There’s no need to overthink,” Koharu clarified, shaking her head with mirth. “I’m certain your presence alone will be good for both Sōjun and Ginrei.”
Ichigo wasn’t entirely sure about the matter herself, but she nodded, wanting to be useful.
“Onee-san! I’m done with one hundred swings!”
She turned to see Sōjun running towards them, nearly tripping over the wooden sword that was as tall as he was. Sweat glistened along his face, but his eyes were bright and happy.
“Nice work!” she praised, clapping her hands. “Why don’t you take a short break and I’ll show you some new moves after?”
“Yes, onee-san!” He saluted, before scampering away to freshen up.
Ichigo watched him skip off with a smile, wondering how such a gregarious kid would fare growing up in such a strict household.
“Do you like children, Ichigo?”
Glancing back towards Koharu, Ichigo shrugged. “They’re a handful, but I like ‘em. I have two—“
Little sisters.
Forcibly stopping herself, Ichigo grimaced as her chest suddenly grew tight.
“—two kids that I used to watch over a lot,” she finished sadly. “They grew up so fast.”
Koharu seemed to pick up on her sudden change and smiled softly. “Shall I advise Enji to quickly arrange a future spouse for you?”
Ichigo choked, feeling all her grief suddenly vanish. “No, no! I’m definitely not ready to get married, much less have kids of my own!”
“Don’t be shy,” Koharu teased, her eyes twinkling with mirth. “I’m sure you’ll have suitors lining up at the Shiba Estate soon enough.”
“Please don’t say any more,” she groaned, feeling her cheeks redden. “I’ll be happy enough for the next century to just watch Sōjun grow up.”
“No man has caught your heart?” Koharu raised her delicate brows in question. “Don’t soul-search for too long, Ichigo, or all the good ones will be taken.”
She opened her mouth, about to retort that she already had an egocentric psychopath currently living in her soul, when she realised how ridiculous the thought was.
Why did she even think of Aizen’s stupid smug face?
Holding her face in embarrassment, Ichigo got to her feet and staggered off the engawa, feeling her cheeks burn.
“I-I’m gonna go look for Sōjun.”
Ichigo bolted away in a clumsy escape, hearing Koharu’s laugh of delight echo through the manor as she inwardly cursed at herself.
Absolutely not.
“Ichi-chan.”
“…”
“Ichi-Ichi-chan.”
“…”
“My most precious and adorable granddaughter—“
“Alright, shut it!” Ichigo snapped, pressing her red face into her hands. “I already said I have bad control!”
Two hours ago, Enji had called her over to the Shiba Estate, declaring that with her official membership, he would start teaching her some of the clan’s secret techniques.
Ichigo was surprised to see him demonstrate Seppa, as it was a skill she had seen Ganju perform multiple times. However, when trying it for herself, she quickly realised that it required even more precision than Kidō.
Which is how Ichigo found herself half buried in a small sea of sand, having accidentally turned one of the Shiba training grounds into a replica of Hueco Mundo.
“Don’t be so easily discouraged, Ichi-chan,” Enji flapped his hand casually. “It takes many years to master this technique.”
“By the time I manage to bury my opponent in sand, I’ll also be neck deep with them,” she muttered, trudging herself out of the pit.
Enji smiled in amusement, raising a brow. “Shall we try a different application? Disintegrating the ground is rather boring after a while.”
“What else can I use it on?” Ichigo asked, curiously raising her head.
“Seppa is a technique that breaks down reishi particles,” he reminded with a sharp look. “Don’t forget, everything in Soul Society and Hueco Mundo is made up of reishi— including souls like you and I.”
Ichigo paused at the implication, eyes widening in shock. “You could turn me into sand?”
“Perhaps a limb or two if I really tried,” he joked, grinning at her expression. “Shinigami and Hollows are extremely dense in reishi, so they’re harder to break down. However, it can be used against projected abilities.”
She leaned forward. “Like what?”
Enji hummed playfully, tapping along his chin. “How’s your Kidō training?”
Ichigo immediately detracted, scowling. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”
Enji laughed. “Alright, Ichi-chan, just give me one tiny demonstration— I’ll show you something fun in exchange.”
She crossed her arms. “What spell?”
“Any Hadō will do,” he shrugged.
Slowly extending out her left hand, Ichigo impulsively thought back to her most recent lesson, knowing she had to practise it anyway.
“Hadō 31—“
Enji raised his brows. “Wow, no incantation?”
“—Shakkahō!”
Part of the flame blew up in her face just as she expected, but she still managed to hurl a giant ball of fire towards Enji’s awaiting figure.
He raised his arm, hand twirling in a near casual flick— barely reminiscent of the movement he taught her— and the ball of flame abruptly exploded into sand, falling past his sides like a river splitting against a rock.
Ichigo blinked in shock, wondering if she had just seen an illusion.
“What are you looking so surprised for?” Enji puffed his chest, looking all too pleased. “I’m the greatest Seppa Master the Shiba Clan has ever seen!”
She was tempted to shoot a cero just to test him again, but knew that it would immediately cause alarm and draw unwanted attention.
“Okay, fine,” she huffed softly, fighting back a smile, “that was pretty cool.”
Enji dramatically wiped his non-existent tears. “My stupid sons don’t appreciate me, but daughters are truly the best!”
Ichigo rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “Regardless, you know I can barely control low-level Kidō, so how am I ever supposed to do something like that?”
Enji crossed his arms, turning more serious. “Have some faith! You have the basics down, and the fine control will develop with time.”
“Will it?” She muttered, unconvinced.
“Remember, you’re technically only two years older than Sōjun,” he pointed out, looking amused. “From the perspective of a soul, it’s astounding what you’ve already managed to do.”
She rubbed the back of her neck, feeling strangely embarrassed by the comparison, regardless of its truth. “Well, when you put it like that…”
“You also have to consider that shinigami grow with their spiritual powers as they age,” Enji added. “You, on the other hand, blew up in the span of a single night, regardless of your parental lineage.”
“So I have hope after all?” She asked, sitting up straighter.
“Absolutely,” he said firmly. “Stability will come with adulthood and maturity, which on average, sits around one hundred years. Until then, your reiatsu will remain rather temperamental.”
“Alright,” she said with a sigh. “I’ll be patient.”
“In the meantime, I can give you something else to play with!”
Ichigo shot him a wary look. “What now?”
Enji dug into his robes, pulling out a handful of small brown balls with a wide grin.
“Fireworks!”
When Jūshirō arrived at the underground training room, he was surprised to see Shunsui sitting on the outskirts within a healing barrier.
After their last meeting, Shunsui had requested a more serious spar from Ichigo, which she had happily agreed to, and Jūshirō intended to spectate once more. He ended up delayed due to other matters, but was surprised to see that the spar had already finished.
He was only ten minutes late.
As he approached, he could see that Shunsui’s captain haori had been discarded beside him, and a long gash extended up his exposed forearm. A distance away, he saw Ichigo making strange gestures into the air, as if she was trying to open an invisible door.
“Shunsui!” He called worriedly, stopping next to him. “Are you alright?”
The man signed, looking weary. “My body is fine, but I think my pride has taken irreparable damage.”
Realising it wasn’t serious, Jūshirō smiled softly and sat down beside him. “I’m glad to see you healing yourself, at least.”
Shunsui chuckled. “Oh, this kaidō isn’t mine. Ichigo insisted on erecting one after we finished. Funnily enough, it seems like healing kidō is much easier for her to grasp than any hadō.”
Pleasantly surprised by the turn of events, Jūshirō sent Ichigo a quick once-over, inwardly noting that she had no injuries.
“How was the spar?” He asked, glancing at Katen Kyōkotsu’s two blades on the dirt beside Shunsui. “You released your zanpakutō?”
“Jūshirō.”
Startled by the sudden seriousness in his tone, he turned to meet Shunsui’s heavy gaze.
“I think I understand why we can’t sense her reiatsu anymore,” he said seriously. “This new form she’s in, merging with her Hollow— it’s in a league beyond normal Shinigami.”
Jūshirō frowned. “What do you mean?”
“She grabbed my sword with her bare hand,” he said quietly, slightly shaking his head as if in disbelief. “She just grabbed it like it was nothing when I called takaoni.”
Jūshirō felt his jaw drop, dumbfounded by the mental image.
Takaoni should have given Shunsui’s attack precedence regardless of how strong Ichigo was. It was simply the rules of the game— the player who had the higher ground won.
“How?” he said at last, still in shock. “Why would your shikai not apply to her?”
“My guess is that the difference in our powers somehow allowed her to ignore Katen Kyōkotsu’s rules,” Shunsui muttered, turning away to stare ahead at Ichigo. “I managed to cut her once at the start with iro-oni— which I’m pretty sure was a free pass she gave me— then she started healing herself.”
“She healed herself?” Jūshirō scratched his head. “When did Ichigo get so proficient at kaidō?”
“It wasn’t kaidō,” Shunsui replied darkly. “It was high-speed regeneration.”
The answer dawned on him. “Hollowfication.”
“We underestimated her badly, Jūshirō,” he said with a sigh. “To be honest, I’m still having a hard time grasping the extent of her power, and it’s a damn nightmare fighting someone you can’t sense.”
“What got you?” Jūshirō asked with a frown, staring down at his injured arm.
“A cero,” Shunsui revealed with a broken laugh, looking ashamed at the confession. “No charge, no warning— it just shot straight from her horn at point blank range and all I could do was take it.”
Jūshirō sent him a wry look. “It’s been a long time since you’ve been hit by one of those, huh?”
“Speak for yourself,” Shunsui muttered, shooting him a stink eye. “You can fight her next.”
“Giving up already?” He raised his brows. “That’s unlike you.”
“Perhaps we should tag-team for my sanity,” Shunsui shook his head. “She’s so damn fast, I couldn't even step on her shadow, much less hide in it.”
Silence settled between the two of them as they both watched Ichigo, who was completely unaware of their gazes and continued to fiddle with the space in front of her as if trying to rip the air.
“What is she doing?” Jūshirō finally asked.
Shunsui snorted, seemingly releasing his prior tension. “She’s trying to open a Garganta.”
“What—why?” He asked in surprise, not having expected such an answer. “To where?”
“Hueco Mundo,” Shunsui supplied. “She said it might be the best place for her to train with leagues of sand and no one to hurt.”
Jūshirō couldn’t argue with such logic, and he briefly wondered when Ichigo even had the chance to visit Hueco Mundo, as it was a place most Shinigami never stepped foot in for their whole lives.
“Like a Kūmon?” He asked. “Isn’t that only used by Gillians?”
“Supposedly it’s different,” Shunsui shrugged. “She said she saw it performed dozens of times by others, but never tried it for herself until now.”
“A garganta portal from inside Seireitei— wouldn’t that get caught within the Kidō Corps Security divison?” Jūshirō asked with a frown.
“They only track movement through the Senkaimon and the Dangai,” Shunsui said thoughtfully. “Unless a hollow decides to follow Ichigo back home, I doubt they’d sense it.”
“That’s good then,” he nodded.
Ichigo swiped her hand across the air again, but this time, a thick black line appeared, pressing together like a mouth before slightly opening, revealing a tear into an endless black void.
“Whoa!” She cried, jumping back in surprise before pausing. “I did it?”
Jūshirō got to his feet, cautiously walking closer to the tiny portal as Ichigo bent forward to observe it more.
“Be careful, Ichigo,” he warned.
She turned around with wide eyes. “Ukitake-taichō, you’re here! Sorry— I was so preoccupied, I didn’t see you.”
“It’s alright, I just wanna make sure you don’t do anything rash,” he shot her a long look. “The Garganta is no place to mess around in— you can get lost and trapped inside forever if you don’t have a clear destination.”
Ichigo nodded seriously. “I’m pretty familiar with Hueco Mundo, so I know where I’d like to end up, but I’m just not sure how different it is since I’m five hundred years off.”
“Think of people then,” he suggested, before frowning. “Although that’s probably unhelpful, seeing as there’s no one living in Hueco Mundo other than Hollows.”
Ichigo’s eyes brightened. “I do know plenty of Hollows! Although I’m not sure if they’re currently alive—“
Before she could continue, the Garganta tear suddenly grew bigger, ripping along the sides like a grotesque mouth, then moved to swallow the unsuspecting girl.
Jūshirō immediately cried, “Ichigo! Behind you—“
She turned just as the void came around to completely devour her, chomping down to seal the portal shut, and settled into a long black line before disappearing altogether.
Jūshirō froze, his hand still outstretched to the spot Ichigo had just stood, hearing Shunsui come up behind him.
“What just happened?” He demanded.
“I-I don’t know,” Jūshirō answered, anxiously glancing left and right. “Should we contact the Kidō Corps?”
Shunsui hummed. “Not so soon. If she can open a rift from here, she can definitely do it again to come back.”
Jūshirō sighed helplessly. “I really hope so.”
“Besides, our current Keikaigi can only link the Garganta between Hueco Mundo and the Living World. We’d give too much of her secrets away should we act prematurely,” Shunsui said.
“Fine,” he relented. “I guess we'll wait.”
Shunsui sent him a small smile. “Trust Ichigo— she’s a lot stronger than you and I could ever imagine.”
Ichigo screamed as she went flying through the tunnel of reishi, finding it hard to regain her balance after falling backwards into the abyss of the Garganta.
She wondered if the stability of the passage depended on how proficient the creator was. When she had travelled through Urahara and Mayuri’s portal, the flow of reishi wasn’t as turbulent.
She twisted in the air, forcibly condensing the reishi around her to create a platform, and managed to slide across it along her back.
Coming to a messy stop, Ichigo heaved a sigh of relief, and quickly jumped to her feet, knowing she had to keep moving— the platform was already starting to break apart.
She leaped into the air, steadily moving through the Garganta with no clear destination in sight.
When she first created the portal, Ichigo had been thinking about Las Noches, and had imagined the giant dome building as an anchor, but with the exit nowhere in sight, she realised that it probably didn’t exist yet.
Ukitake had mentioned using people as a connector, and she thought back to all the Espada she knew of, wondering if any of them were currently around.
She would have preferred to see Nelliel the most, but would settle with Grimmjow, or even that idiot Dordoni.
A flash of green eyes flickered across the forefront of her mind, and Ichigo hitched her breath, feeling a sudden pang of remorse in her chest.
If she managed to see him again—
A long tear suddenly appeared in the Garganta, and Ichigo could see a glimpse of Hueco Mundo’s night sky amongst the endless void.
She rushed towards the exit as the tunnel began collapsing, pushing off her feet with a powerful leap and flew through the hole just as the Garganta closed behind her.
Her triumph was short lived however, as she began falling, plummeting through the sky once again.
She didn’t know why the Garganta had opened so high into the air, but it felt like she was falling for an entire five minutes before she could see the endless grey sea beneath her turn into dunes of sand.
Ichigo crashed gracelessly into the desert, too lazy to even land properly after descending for so long, causing a cloud of dust and sand to rise around her.
For a moment, she remained sprawled out on her back, feeling the cool sand against her skin and gazed at the endless night sky above her.
She felt somewhat comforted. Soul Society and the Human World had regressed so much after going back five hundred years, but Hueco Mundo remained exactly the same.
She stared peacefully at the sky for a few more minutes, wondering if she should just take a nap in the sand, when a shadow fell over her face, and the upside down figure of a hollow appeared.
Bright golden eyes with slitted green pupils sat within a white mask, which completely covered the hollow’s entire face, and extended into two horns along the side of their head. Dark green lines ran down the mask from each eye, and Ichigo immediately knew who she was looking at.
Her heart suddenly filled with emotion as she stared up in silence, opening her mouth to say something, but no words came out.
In her tenure as a Shinigami, Ichigo had always made a point to face her opponents with everything she had, putting her life on the line to save and protect those precious to her.
Every opponent she faced, every battle that ensued, not once did she walk away from a fight regretting her decision.
Until the night she lost all control.
Other than Yhwach, Ichigo had never fought with the sole intent to kill— she had always aimed to win by simply incapacitating her opponent, or when it came to hollows, by purifying them.
There was only one person Ichigo had truly killed, and she swore for the rest of her life that she would carry the guilt and regret as a reminder of how she had failed.
The despair she felt during the fight was nothing compared to the moment she learned that she had nearly killed Ishida and Inoue with her own cero had he not stopped her.
She glanced at the hollow above her, who was still watching her with steady eyes, and she opened her mouth again, forcing back the tears that suddenly blurred her vision.
“Ulquiorra.”
There was a strange creature at his feet.
Other than the hollows he had killed in the dark pit where he was born, it had been many years since he last saw another living being in this endless desert.
This creature had a long white horn on one side of her head, with a yellow eye and black marks streaking down her face. At the centre of her chest, slightly lower than his own, was a large hole— all signs pointing to a hollow.
However, the appearance of her face looked unusual. He had never seen a human before, but instinct told him that her features were those belonging to one. Her eyes were wide with some sort of emotion, but he couldn’t understand what.
Most strangely, how did she know him?
He hadn’t seen another hollow for hundreds of years since leaving the pit, nor had he ever bothered to give anyone his name.
The name, Ulquiorra, should have existed to him, and him alone.
The creature suddenly moved, slowly rising from the sand and pushed herself to her feet. She was small for a hollow, but Ulquiorra knew that much like himself, she must have evolved.
The number of Vasto Lorde in Hueco Mundo at any given time was thought to not exceed ten, and now there was another one apart from him, having fallen from the sky like a star.
She cleared her throat, seemingly trying to compose herself before speaking.
“I guess you’re not an Arrancar yet,” she muttered softly, her gaze flickering from his face to the sand. “But, uh… can you speak?”
Ulquiorra stared at her in silence. He had never tried speaking before, nor had he ever felt the need to. Physically, he had a perfectly capable mouth under his mask, but did not attempt to use it.
There was no meaning in exchanging words.
She grunted, looking displeased. “No wonder you become so talkative— having to live as a mute all this time.”
He cocked his head, feeling strangely unbalanced by this new encounter. He had a sudden desire to speak when she shot out her hand, leaving it hanging in the space between them.
“My name is Ichigo,” she said.
He stared down at her hand, which was not as white as his own, but also unlike the black claws of his kin.
“You’re supposed to shake it,” she added, as if sensing his confusion. “Then we will be acquainted.”
He wanted to frown but found the expression difficult to form. Why? What was the purpose of having an acquaintance in the first place?
He could not feel any killing intent from her, and with curiosity eventually getting the best of him, Ulquiorra slowly reached out with his own hand.
He immediately felt the strength of her hierro, which was clearly more durable than his own, but he could not feel anything else of note.
“Okay, you can let go now,” she said calmly.
He did so, dropping his hand to his side with a brief thought that this was the first time he had touched anyone without killing them.
“So, uh, do you live around here?” She asked, rubbing the back of her neck as she glanced side to side.
A small ball of tumbleweed rolled past them as Ulquiorra simply stared at her without response.
“Yeah, this place sucks,” she sighed, tuning around. “I’m gonna go look for a nice cave to settle in.”
She took a few steps away from him before glancing over her shoulder. “You’re free to come along if you want.”
With that, she continued walking away, leaving a trail of footsteps along the dunes.
Ulquiorra watched her retreating figure for a moment as he tried to make sense of his next move. He had been wandering the desert with no clear destination or motive, and had left the pit simply desiring to see more of Hueco Mundo with his own eyes.
Strangely, the concept of having a travel companion didn’t seem unpleasant to him, although he couldn’t explain why.
Seeing her figure get smaller and smaller along the horizon, Ulquiorra raised one foot after another and quickly moved after her.
He felt something stir in his chest, an unfamiliar feeling prompting his legs to move faster to make sure he didn’t lose her.
Whatever the emotion was, he would figure it out for himself later, even if it meant he had to crack open his own rib cage to see it.
Until then, he decided to follow after this strange creature, Ichigo.
Notes:
Can you guys tell how much I miss Ulquiorra 😭 honestly I'm tempted to write a spin off of Ichigo and Ulquiorra's adventures in Hueco Mundo where he finds his heart and lives happily. Kyōraku can finally laze around with Starrk, Ukitake can chill with Nel, and Grimmjow can have eternal fights with Kenpachi.
You can find Ulquiorra’s original appearance from the databook Unmasked. It was mentioned that before he became an Arrancar he couldn’t hear, speak, smell, or even feel anything, which I thought was too limiting, so for the purpose of this fic I'm gonna ignore that part 😅
No Aizen in this chapter, but I promise he'll be back! Our first time skip is coming up real soon so hang tight!
Chapter 8
Notes:
I adjusted the tags and moved the rating down to a T, but fair warning, there will be Bleach-typical violence and mild language here and there. This chapter is the last in what I'm going to section off as 'Arc 1'. Time skip will start from the next chapter, and Arc 2 will cover the next 200-300 years. Thanks for your patience and hope you have fun reading! 😊
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
It only took two tries for Ichigo to open a Garganta back to Seireitei, and the passage had been so short and stable that she wondered if opening spatial rifts was simply easier from inside Hueco Mundo.
It was no wonder Hollows always managed to sneak into the Living World or Soul Society to cause mayhem.
It was difficult to tell time in Hueco Mundo, but Ichigo guessed that she had been gone for only a day, having spent most of it trekking through miles of sand with Ulquiorra following behind her.
What a strange concept that was.
She could feel his steady presence at her back, and glanced over her shoulder a few times to peek at him.
In his Vasto Lorde form, he was covered head to toe in a white shell, but she could see the familiar shape of the mask that would one day sit atop his head. He had enormous black wings and a long tail, which remained drooping behind him, dragging along the sand and leaving a trail.
She knew Ulquiorra wasn’t a violent hollow by nature, and didn’t care for killing apart from executing orders, but it was still a strange sight to see him obediently following after her like a baby duck.
After discovering a small cave, she rested for a few hours before deciding to bid farewell. She had left Ukitake and Kyōraku in a rushed state, and knew she had to return.
Ulquiorra was sitting at the mouth of the cave, using his massive wings like a blanket to wrap around his body. Ichigo figured that if she hung him upside down on a large tree somewhere, he’d look perfectly like a bat.
“Hey, I need to return to Soul Society, but I’ll be back in a few days,” she called.
He turned at her voice, head tilting to the side much like a dog.
“Uh, and if you’re wondering why Soul Society, it’s because I live and work there,” she explained quickly. “The more important thing is that you don’t follow me back. I’m a hundred percent sure shinigami will attack you on sight and I don’t wanna see you throwing ceros around Seireitei, okay?”
As usual, he said nothing in return, opting to only stare at her.
Ichigo sighed. “You know, I did say you’re free to follow me, but you don’t have to stick around here while I’m gone.”
She lowered her gaze and hummed in deep thought, wondering what the heck she was supposed to do with a wandering Vasto Lorde.
“Maybe you can find some friends,” she pointed out with hope. “We can try looking for Nelliel when I’m back! Her Fracción are annoying as hell, but they’re all well-meaning.”
Ulquiorra blinked slowly, unmoving from his position and Ichigo took that as enough of an answer. In reality, she guessed that he neither had wants or needs, and lived aimlessly for hundreds of years. It was no wonder he ended up so nihilistic, and had no attachments to anything in life.
“Take care, Ulquiorra,” she waved casually, turning towards the open Garganta. “I’ll see you again soon!”
With that, Ichigo jumped back into the open portal, finding the reishi flow smooth and stable as the Garganta stitched itself closed behind her. She could already see the exit ready this time, and knew the connection back to Kyōraku’s old home had worked.
Creating reishi footholds, Ichigo quickly jumped through the void, barely travelling for a minute before the exit portal ripped wider, allowing her to seamlessly step back into Seireitei.
“Ichigo!”
She raised her head just in time to see Ukitake rush towards her, face full of worry as he patted her down, as if checking for any misplaced limbs.
“Are you alright?” He asked.
“I’m fine!” She nodded, hearing the Garganta close behind her. “I managed to arrive in Hueco Mundo without any problems. How long was I gone?”
“Just a day,” he said with a sigh. “Although with the way you disappeared, it felt like more.”
“Sorry,” she lowered her head in shame. “I’ve been nothing but trouble, haven’t I?”
Ukitake laughed, placing a warm hand on her head. “At least you know it.”
“So you’re back?”
Ichigo turned to see Kyōraku sitting on the grass by a small table, a tea set, and a few piles of documents under his hand.
“Are you doing paperwork here?” She asked incredulously.
Kyōraku huffed. “Well, we decided to give you a few days and wanted to be here just in case anything went wrong when you tried coming back.”
“Thank you,” She smiled softly, feeling her shoulders relax. “Luckily, the return trip was much easier.”
“Good,” he nodded. “Maybe Jūshirō and I will accompany you next time— I’ve been looking forward to a vacation.”
“Shunsui!” Ukitake admonished lightly. “I can’t believe you’d rather go to Hueco Mundo than do your work.”
Having once said the very same thing, Ichigo looked away in embarrassment. “Uh— yeah, it’s a boring place, Kyōraku-taichō.”
“It won’t be boring with company!” He declared, lips pulling into an amused grin.
Ukitake then sent her a worried look. “You didn’t run into any hollows, did you?”
Ichigo paused awkwardly, wondering how to explain Ulquiorra’s identity without revealing Aizen.
“I saw a familiar face,” she admitted at last.
“A friendly face, I hope?” Ukitake raised his brows.
“…he did kill me twice,” she said honestly.
Even Kyōraku looked startled at that, and Ukitake quickly blinked back the shock.
“Ichigo!” He chastised in disbelief. “Why would you risk yourself like that?”
Kyōraku sipped his tea. “I’m more interested in what sort of hollow managed to kill you not once, but twice.”
She chuckled nervously. “Well, I was fairly weaker when we fought, and I always regretted the way I killed him in return… I suppose I was just glad to see him alive again.”
Ukitake’s eyes softened, and he sighed. “Your line of thinking truly baffles me sometimes, but I trust that you'll be able to protect yourself, Ichigo.”
She nodded reassuringly. “I’ll be alright. Maybe once he starts getting used to my presence, I can bring company along.”
Kyōraku huffed in amusement. “I’ve always wanted to have a relaxing evening in Hueco Mundo.”
Ichigo grinned. “Well, bring your own saké and tea, because there’s nothing but sand over there.”
After an uneventful month passed, Ichigo received a formal invite to the Shihōin Manor, and she found herself standing in Enji’s office with a nervous frown.
“What are you worried about?” He waved his hand. “They’re just going through official channels because you’re a noble now.”
“Why are they asking for me?” She asked with pursed lips. “Should I bring gifts or prepare something?”
“Ichi-chan, this is very obviously a casual invite,” Enji reassured, tossing the letter off the side. “Yahiko is a good friend of mine, and I can vouch for his character. He’s probably just curious about you and wanted to get along.”
“Oh,” she deflated in relief. “Alright then.”
“Actually while you're there—“ Enji began digging through his drawer, and pulled out a long brown box onto his desk. “Can you deliver this for me?”
She stared at the package suspiciously, noting a bright red tape across the top. “What is that?”
“Just some prototype explosives,” he shrugged. “They’re for the Onmitsukidō.”
Ichigo immediately pulled her hand back. “Why do you have these?”
Enji laughed at her reaction. “We’re a clan that specialises in fireworks, so we routinely supply the Gotei and the Onmitsukidō with all sorts of fun toys.”
Ichigo would have originally thought that advanced realms like Soul Society wouldn’t have to use such primitive means— until she remembered that while in the Royal Palace, she had been catapulted from city to city like a paddle ball.
“Fine,” she agreed, reaching for the box. “At least I won’t go empty handed.”
Enji sighed. “I’d love to go with you, but I’m being held here against my will by an evil entity—“
“I heard that, Shiba-taichō!”
Ichigo glanced behind her, seeing a shadow pass by the shogi screen outside.
“I’m kidding, Taisei!” Enji quickly yelled, looking close to crying. “I love paperwork!”
She heard Kira scoff in disbelief before his footsteps disappeared down the hall.
Enji breathed dramatically and muttered under his breath, “I need to hurry up and find that kid a pretty girl to marry— I swear he’s getting grumpier by the day.”
Recalling Koharu’s teasing words from before, Ichigo was suddenly triggered, and quickly held the package in her arms before scooting back towards the door.
“I need to make a quick stop at the Thirteenth, so I’ll be going first,” she raised her hand. “I’ll see you later, jii-chan.”
Knowing that calling him ‘grandpa’ always made him happy, Ichigo watched his previous dour expression bloom as he waved back at her, sufficiently distracted.
“Come back for dinner soon, Ichi-chan!”
Ichigo quickly escaped from the Tenth Division, shaking off the goosebumps that lingered along her back.
The Second Division was on the complete opposite side of the Tenth, and Ichigo knew she had to start making her way now, unless she wanted to turn her leisure pace into a sprint across Seireitei.
After an hour, Ichigo arrived at the residential district, noting that much like the Kuchiki Manor, the Shihōin Manor was situated beside the Division barracks.
Presenting her invitation to the guards at the main gate, Ichigo was then escorted inside, allowing her to get a proper look at the home.
Compared to the rest of the architecture in Seireitei, the manor looked strangely modern, built from white bricks and concrete. There was an enormous six story pagoda on one side, which connected to the main estate by many long floating bridges.
After being escorted down a large hallway, the servant slid open the door to a large waiting room, and gestured inside with a respectful bow. “Shihōin-sama will see you soon.”
Nodding in thanks, Ichigo stepped inside, grabbing one of the tatami mats and settled on the floor. There was a large table in the centre of the room with rows of bookshelves behind it, and the side wall was completely removed, exposing the office to a beautiful garden.
Before she could take a further look, footsteps sounded from the hallway outside and a muffled voice filtered through the door.
“—find her! Now!”
Ichigo glanced up just as the door slid open to reveal Shihōin Yahiko. When she had met him at the Shiba’s, he was wearing a formal outfit, but seeing him in his normal shinigami shihakushō, she was struck by how similar his features were with Yoruichi’s.
“Shihōin-taichō,” she greeted, getting up to give him a proper bow.
He waved his hand, walking towards the other end of the table to sit down. “None of that, Ichigo. You’re a guest here, so sit comfortably.”
She did so without complaint, placing the package on the table between them. “I’ve also been delegated to deliver this to you.”
His eyes brightened as he reached for the box. “Excellent! I wasn’t expecting the new prototypes to be ready so soon.”
He quickly stashed the box behind him before turning back to her with a mischievous smile.
“I must be honest, Ichigo, you are such an interesting arrival that I had to invite you over for a chat,” he said merrily, eyes crinkling. “How exciting it must be, to be in the past, no?”
Ichigo stilled, brows furrowing into a tight frown as she stared at him.
“No need to be suspicious, no one in your circle divulged that information to me,” he laughed, waving his hand. “I would bring shame upon myself as the Commander of the Onmitsukidō if I couldn’t figure out at least this much.”
Ichigo forced herself to relax as she tried to gauge his intentions. “Why send spies after me? I’m really not as interesting as you think.”
“You misunderstand,” he said softly. “My eyes and ears are naturally all over Seireitei. I didn't target you intentionally, nor is it my style to meet people in such a way.”
She raised a brow. “So that’s why you invited me?”
“Well, of course!” Shihōin said happily, pounding his fist on the table. “How boring is it to hear reports from someone else’s mouth? I want to hear the details straight from the source!”
Ichigo sighed, realising that she was sitting across from a serial gossip-lover and a busybody. “Haven't you heard that it’s not good to know the future?”
Shihōin looked undeterred. “I’m not interested in my personal future or even that of Seireitei— I want to hear about you, Ichigo.”
“What about me?” She asked warily.
“I heard you’re from the Living World,” he said curiously. “How did you end up coming to Soul Society? The story must be fascinating!”
Ichigo paused, unsure of how much to tell him. Unlike Yhwach’s inevitable return, saving Rukia was a point in her life that was unlikely to ever happen in this timeline.
“I invaded Seireitei to save my friend,” she said simply.
Shihōin stared blankly at her for a long moment before leaning forward.
“And??” He demanded, eyes wide. “You can’t just leave it at that! What happened?”
Ichigo huffed, unable to hold back her smile at his eagerness. Shiba Enji and Shihōin Yahiko we’re definitely two peas in a pod.
“Because she gave me her shinigami powers, saving me and my family from a hollow,” Ichigo revealed, gaze downcast as she swam through the memories. “The Central 46 deemed her crime worthy of execution on Sōkyoku Hill, so I decided to go save her.”
“You—“ he pointed in disbelief. “After getting powers from another shinigami— somehow invaded Seireitei and battled your way through the Gotei?”
Knowing she wouldn’t be able to mention Urahara or Yoruichi, Ichigo shrugged. “I had some help getting there, but yes, that’s more or less what happened.”
Before Shihōin could reply, there was a small clicking noise, a tingle against her senses, and Ichigo looked up just in time to see a small child fall out the ceiling with a sharp scream.
Shihōin glanced up but didn’t react, so Ichigo quickly caught the child mid-air, not wanting to see the poor kid land face first on the hard wooden table.
She blinked in surprise, staring down at the blonde haired boy in her arms, who looked no older than four or five, before glancing at the man sitting across from her.
Shihōin clicked his tongue disapprovingly, glaring at the ceiling. “Get down here, right now!”
Ichigo looked up to see that one of the ceiling boards had swung open, obviously having been made into a trap door of sorts, before another child appeared, her bright golden eyes peeking over the open edge.
“Kisuke!” the girl screeched, pointing an accusatory finger at the boy in Ichigo’s arms. “You stupid! How could you trigger the latch?!”
Realising that the boy she was holding in her arms was none other than Urahara Kisuke, Ichigo stared wordlessly at the child, noting his large grey eyes watching her in turn.
“Yoruichi!” Shihōin hissed, crossing his arms as he stood up. “I said now.”
Evidently scared, the girl quickly jumped out of the ceiling, landing unsteadily before Shihōin with her head lowered.
“It’s not my fault,” she grumbled quietly.
Shihōin sighed, raising a hand to his forehead. “How many times have I told you to stop playing in the ceiling?”
Yoruichi pouted, shooting Ichigo a quick look of curiosity. “We were gonna go to the garden, but Kisuke wanted to hear the rest of her story!”
Ichigo glanced at the boy in question, noting that he still hadn’t said a single word, then proceeded to slowly lower him back onto the ground.
Shihōin shook his head, giving her an apologetic look. “Yoruichi, Kisuke— give your proper greetings. This is Kurosaki Ichigo, lieutenant of the Thirteenth and ward of the Shiba Clan.”
“Ward?” Yoruichi repeated with wide eyes. “Like Kisuke?”
“Their situations aren’t the same,” Shihōin corrected. “Ichigo is a Shiba by blood.”
Urahara quickly walked over to where Yoruichi was standing and turned around to give her a respectful bow. “H-Hello, Kurosaki-fukutaichō.”
Ichigo pressed a hand over her chin as if in deep thought. The most cunning man she knew, a master manipulator, and a strategist rumoured to have plans within his plans— who would have thought he was such a cute child?
“Mm,” she nodded towards them. “It’s nice to meet you two.”
“Now be on your way,” Shihōin shooed with his hand, gesturing to the garden outside. “Don’t let me catch you playing in the ceiling again.”
Yoruichi made a break for it immediately, but Urahara glanced back at her, as if wanting to say something more.
“Let’s go, Kisuke!” Yoruichi yelled impatiently.
Ichigo might have thought Urahara was impossible to read as an adult, but as a child, his intentions were as clear as day.
“What do you want to ask?” She said softly, crouching down in front of him so that they were at eye level.
He twisted from side to side, looking momentarily flustered before his eyes met hers.
“D-Did you save your friend?” He asked, face full of expectation.
Ichigo blinked in surprise before feeling a soft smile tug at her lips. “Well… I was training in secret when suddenly, her execution date got moved up.”
Urahara gasped soundlessly, and Yoruichi stopped tugging on the boy’s clothes to listen as well.
“On the fateful day, I raced to Sōkyoku Hill to see the Kidō Corps unseal the halberd,” she continued dramatically, enjoying their childish expressions of awe. “The Kikōō was unleashed and the giant fiery bird flew towards my friend, who was sealed to the execution pole.”
“And then?” Yoruichi shrieked, her eyes wide with shock.
Ichigo smiled slyly, knowing she couldn’t continue any longer. If Shihōin Yahiko knew his precious family shield was used to destroy the Sōkyoku, she wasn’t sure how he’d react.
“Well, I don’t remember the specifics, but in the end, I saved her!” She finished with a wide grin.
“What?!” Yoruichi bellowed, stomping her feet. “You’re a liar! This is a fake story, isn’t it?!”
Ichigo just chuckled, resting her chin in her palm.
Without waiting for her to defend herself, Yoruichi grabbed Urahara’s arm and dragged him out of the office, huffing as she went. “Let’s go, Kisuke!”
Ichigo waved at them cheerily, feeling her previous tension ease away as she pushed herself to her feet.
Shihōin Yahiko, however, stared at her with a piercing gaze. “Your aptitude for children is better than I expected, Ichigo.”
She shrugged, thinking back on Yuzu and Karin’s younger days. “I've learned to become a good storyteller.”
He hummed thoughtfully, suddenly looking all too pleased. “You know… I’ve been looking for a new babysitter—“
“No way.”
It had taken her a few weeks before Ichigo realised that something was wrong in her inner world.
More precisely— that something was wrong with Aizen.
Every time Ichigo fell into jinzen, she would find him sitting on that same bench, opting to observe as she and Zangetsu sparred with each other. Except, the time he spent actually awake to watch them was growing shorter and shorter.
Ichigo approached him quietly, noting that he was leaning against the armrest, with his face held up by his hand. For all intents and purposes, he looked like he was sleeping.
“Aizen.”
He didn’t stir, and Ichigo couldn’t tell if he was deliberately ignoring her.
Impulsively, she reached out with her hand to poke his forehead. His skin was neither hot nor clammy, giving away no clues to his strange condition.
“What’s wrong with you?” She asked loudly, feeling a frown form between her brows.
She expected him to smack her hand away for daring to touch him, but to her surprise, Aizen still didn’t react.
“He’s fading, Ichigo.”
She turned to see Zangetsu approaching them, his gaze settled on Aizen’s still face.
“Fading?” She repeated in disbelief. “He was serious about that?”
Zangetsu crossed his arms. “A soul can’t survive on its own, and this outcome was always inevitable. Now, it’s just a matter of how fast his consciousness will disappear.”
“Why?” She demanded, feeling strangely aggrieved. “He’s in my body, isn’t he?”
“Theoretically yes, but his soul isn’t properly anchored here,” he explained. “It’s more accurate to say that Aizen is floating in limbo.”
She purses her lips. “I thought he said the Hōgyoku would stabilise him?”
“Perhaps he hoped it would, but what is the Hōgyoku if not a cluster of souls too?” Zangetsu shrugged. “It can’t evolve his body if he doesn’t have one.”
“How much longer will he last?” She asked warily.
Zangetsu looked serious. “It’s only been a few months and his time awake has dwindled to barely three hours a day. I suspect that he’ll be fully unconscious by six months, and his soul will fade entirely in a year.”
“Then what do I do?” She demanded.
Zangetsu looked amused. “You want to do something?”
“I—“ she stammered, frowning at the sudden onslaught of emotions. “…I can’t just let him die like this.”
“Why not?” Zangetsu argued. “His past self will be born regardless, and there’s no guarantee that he’ll be able to revert time in the future.”
Ichigo clenched her hands, staring down at Aizen’s face. It was ironic how peaceful he looked, while she was struggling with an immense decision.
In her opinion, there were plenty of reasons to try and help Aizen.
He had, to a degree, become an ally, and helped save the world with her.
He was also the last remaining link Ichigo had to her timeline. And while she genuinely cared about the people around her, she still felt homesick for the future she once had.
Ultimately, the reason lied with Aizen himself.
“I wished to change my fate.”
How could Ichigo not sympathise with such a desire? She had gone through hell and back, unwilling to fall regardless of the circumstances— and now she learned that the power to change fate had been within her all along.
She steadied her gaze, turning to look at Zangetsu. “Tell me how to help him.”
He sighed, looking unsurprised. “The solution is simple— you must give him a proper anchor.”
“Like my body?” She asked, grimacing at the thought of Aizen randomly taking control.
“Not your body,” he corrected, eyes hardening. “Your soul.”
Ichigo paused, mind whirling at the implications. “So… we’d be linking our souls? Like what Urahara did for my parents?”
“That’s correct.”
She frowned. “But how? Urahara isn’t here to help— and I—“
“You don’t need him,” Zangetsu said plainly, meeting her gaze. “Ichigo, it’s well within your power to create a soul-tie.”
She wanted to argue that she truly had no idea, and that Aizen was right about her having no talent for science, but Ichigo felt something small stir in heart— a sudden conviction that seemed unshakable.
She slowly reached out, grasping both sides of Aizen’s face. Her fingers curled through his hair as his hand, which had been supporting his head, fell lifelessly back onto his lap.
Reishi began swirling around them, condensing at her feet then rising to envelop them both. Above Aizen’s head, a red ribbon began to form, billowing in the air as the length twisted down his body and wrapped around his torso.
She noticed the ribbon seemed frayed at the edges, with some sections dangerously thin and vulnerable to splitting completely.
Removing one of her hands from his face, Ichigo reached for the ribbon.
Long fingers suddenly snapped around her wrist, the grip harsh and unyielding, and Ichigo nearly countered on instinct before glancing down to meet Aizen’s gaze, his brown eyes burning with intensity.
“You never fail to surprise me, Kurosaki Ichigo,” he said, his voice raspy and low. “Do you truly understand what you’re about to do?”
The mere act of waking up seemed to have cost him, and she could see the strain between his brows as a drop of sweat ran down his temple. The skin pressed against her hand suddenly felt molten hot.
Ichigo opened her mouth, about to tell him off when she noticed a flicker of genuine panic in his eyes. She wasn’t sure if he feared death, having once been made immortal by the Hōgyoku, or if he feared the future of having a soul-tie.
“I know,” she said calmly.
Aizen didn’t seem convinced as he stared incredulously at her. “A soul-tie will last for a lifetime— even if I manage to merge with my younger self, you will never be able to separate from me until the day one of us dies.”
“I know,” she repeated, leaning closer with a scowl of determination on her face. “But if it means I can save you now, I’ll do it.”
He reeled back slightly, taken aback by her answer. It was probably the first time he had been made speechless, and had their situation not been so serious, Ichigo would have teasingly pointed out his expression.
“…Why?” He said at last.
Ichigo laughed shortly, unable to hold back her amusement. “You’re the one who sent Rukia after me, knowing my character— yet you still ask me why?”
Aizen remained quiet, wordlessly staring up at her.
Annoyed, Ichigo used her free hand to grab his jaw, her fingers barely long enough to grip both sides of his face. She raised her foot and slammed it against the bench beside his legs, blocking him with her body. It was a deeply intimate gesture, one she would later look back on with mortification, but in the moment, she felt more courageous than ever.
“Then allow me to repeat myself,” she said firmly, eyes alight with fire. “I’m saving you because I want to save you. I don’t give a damn about duties or justice— if I have the means to help someone in front of me, you best believe I’m going to do it! So do you want saving or not?!”
For a long while, Aizen didn’t move, and Ichigo didn’t want to be the first to back down, so they remained staring at each other, nearly nose to nose.
Finally he closed his eyes, as if trying to restrain himself. “I will give you one final chance to retract your decision.”
Ichigo didn’t even blink in hesitation. “It’s already been made.”
Aizen opened his eyes, and she saw that his normally brown irises were starting to glow. He stood up, suddenly pushing against her, and Ichigo nearly flailed backwards to avoid his incoming face. Her fingers slipped from his jaw, and faster than she could react, his hand grabbed her wrist, keeping her from moving any further.
Standing so close to him, with both hands caught in his grasp, Ichigo noticed just how tall he was. He stared at her with an inscrutable expression as reishi swirled around them wildly, covering them in a golden aura.
Then Aizen began laughing.
It was not a joyous laughter, but a manic one— of a man who had nothing more to lose and was about to put everything on the line.
“Very good, Kurosaki Ichigo,” he said hoarsely, lips settling into an unhinged smile. “You’ve always managed to topple my expectations and upend my plans— I truly underestimated you once again.”
Releasing one of her hands, he raised his arm to grab the loose end of his own spirit ribbon, and Ichigo nearly yelled at him for how callously he handled the frayed string.
He pressed the ribbon into her palm, then clasped her fist between his hands as if sealing a deal.
“It’s yours,” he said breathlessly, his face once again inches from her own. “So don’t regret it.”
There was a heavy weight to his gaze, something Ichigo had never seen from him, and she gripped the ribbon tighter.
“I won’t,” she said resolutely.
“Good,” he whispered, seemingly pleased.
He reached out, hand wrapping around her jaw in a mirror of Ichigo’s own actions from before, but while her grip had been harsh, his was surprisingly tender, and she could feel a slight tremor along his fingers.
“Because even if you regret, even if you cry, even if you beg…” he murmured gently, eyes boring into her own.
“You will never escape me.”
Notes:
And so the obsession begins 😉
Could Aizen have eventually figured something out and willed the Hōgyoku to save him? Maybe. There's no fun in that, though.
I'd like to think that this is the first time Aizen has ever experienced kindness without expectation, and that Ichigo is choosing to save him just because she can. And poor baby Aizen is going to join the Gotei and grow up wondering why he feels so attached to someone he's never met hehehe.
Y'all better pray for Ichigo 😈
Chapter 9
Notes:
I’m back! I apologise for the wait, I decided to take an extra week off to relax and plan ahead. Secondly, I wanted to give everyone a huge thank you for all the kudos, comments, and hits on this story! Seeing how much you guys are enjoying this fic keeps me motivated to continue writing 🥰 Now onto Arc 2~
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Years ago, when Ichigo first entered high school, she had come across a book about lucid dreaming.
Although she tried learning the technique, interested in the concept of controlling her own dreams, she never managed to get anywhere and eventually tossed the exercises aside after a few weeks.
Suddenly finding herself in front of the doors to the Kurosaki Clinic after falling asleep, Ichigo knew that something was different about this dream— dangerous even.
After living in the Thirteenth division barracks for almost half a year, she had nearly forgotten what home looked like, but didn’t dare to lower her guard.
She glanced down the street, finding it utterly empty, and Ichigo was reminded of the days she had lost all her powers. She couldn’t sense anything and distinctly felt as if the entirety of Karakura Town was a mere shell— an empty replica like the one Soul Society had made.
Deciding against any exploration, Ichigo pushed against the glass doors of the clinic, finding them unlocked, and slowly stepped into her home.
The space was exactly as she remembered, but her father didn’t appear in a surprise attack, nor did Karin or Yuzu’s voice greet her from the kitchen.
Instead, there was a man sitting on the floor of the living room. He was clothed elegantly, with a sense of nobility marked across his posture that even the most upright aristocrats in Seireitei couldn’t achieve. His long black hair flowed down his back and onto the floor, accentuating his pale skin, patrician features, and his golden eyes.
It was perhaps the first time Ichigo could use the word beautiful to describe a man. He looked prettier than most women she knew, and utterly out of place sitting in her house.
The man’s gaze slowly moved towards her, as if just noticing her arrival, and Ichigo felt a hint of familiarity seeing his face.
“Welcome,” he suddenly spoke, his voice deep and resonant.
Ichigo remained frozen near the entryway, unsure of what to do. She had many dreams about the people in her life, but this was the first time she dreamed of someone she didn’t know.
“You know me,” he said, as if reading her mind.
Ichigo jolted in surprise, shooting the strange man a sharp look. “I don’t know you. What are you doing in my house?”
He didn’t seem to take offence to her prickly attitude and remained calm.
“Your strongest memories and desires are all anchored here,” he said cryptically. “This place is sustained by your will, and I am merely a visitor.”
Swallowing back her unease, Ichigo walked further into the living room and stood across from the man. Surely she couldn’t die in her own dream, right?
“So who are you?” She asked warily.
The man’s face was like a doll— eerily without emotion or change in expression, and his golden eyes seemed to sparkle with tiny specs of light, as if the galaxy was reflected in his gaze.
“I no longer have a name,” he replied, a hint of sorrow in his voice.
Ichigo blinked in confusion. “How did you lose your own name?”
“My name was erased,” he said simply. “It no longer exists.”
“What does that even mean?” She frowned, feeling frustrated by his reply, then shook her head. “Never mind, just tell me why you’re here.”
She sat across from him, sending him a slight glare, hoping to intimidate him for the truth, but the man remained unfazed.
“Your arrival in this world allowed me to regain consciousness, by anchoring to the piece of myself already within you,” he said.
Ichigo sent him an incredulous look. “Are you saying you’ve been in my head this whole time?”
“You carry a part of me,” he answered with a nod. “The largest and strongest portion of my spirit. By connecting to it, I can appear in your subconscious.”
“A part of you?” Ichigo repeated in mild horror. “Is it because of the soul-tie? Are you related to Aizen?”
They didn’t look anything alike, but Ichigo couldn’t judge purely by appearances.
“He holds a few scattered fragments of my soul, but there is no relation,” he corrected, before raising his hand to point at her. “You, however, were born to carry the weight of this power.”
A heavy weight of silence settled in the air as Ichigo frowned with trepidation, staring at the end of his finger. “Who exactly are you?”
Instead of responding, the man flattened his hand and extended it towards her in an inviting gesture.
Ichigo hesitated, recognising his unspoken request but feared putting herself in a compromising position.
“I will show you,” he said encouragingly.
Swallowing back her anxiety, Ichigo stretched out her own hand and slowly placed it on his.
The moment their hands touched, the living room twisted away, melting into a kaleidoscope of colours as Ichigo dropped into a void of space.
Hundreds of unknown voices bombarded her mind, and images flickered across her eyes like a movie. It was as if the history of the world was playing in reverse, and Ichigo suddenly found herself staring at a familiar scene.
A man standing in water, his arm outstretched over three whirlpools— each swirling around a long white arrow.
It was the same vision she had seen during her training at the Royal Palace. She couldn’t make sense of it at the time, but after what Aizen had revealed, the identity of the man could only point to one person.
The vision faded and Ichigo blinked, suddenly finding herself standing in the water. Her limbs moved on their own, hands outstretched over the whirlpools, and she realised that she was in the man’s body, forced to relive his memories.
Before she could attempt an escape, her right hand, still holding onto a large key-like relic, abruptly split apart as if it was cut off by an unknown force.
Ichigo screamed, but no sound came out. One by one, her arms and legs detached, and left with only her torso, she fell limply into the whirlpool, sinking into the depths with her severed limbs.
Five pairs of eyes stared at her from the darkness, each gleaming with their own agendas.
A sinister smile bared down at her.
“A weakened god, at my mercy.”
Cold steel pierced her flesh, carving her from the inside out, and Ichigo tried to thrash and scream, but the memory kept playing.
She was drowning, suffocating in agony, but unable to end her misery.
It was an excruciating existence.
A pair of dark red eyes looked down at her, his expression twisted into one of deranged joy.
It was Ichibē Hyōsube.
Ichigo woke up screaming, clawing at her chest in a desolate attempt at survival .
The familiar walls of the Thirteenth Division barracks slowly came into focus as Ichigo sat up, still gasping as if her lungs were filled with water.
Her whole body was drenched in sweat, and she glanced towards the large mirror across the feet of her futon, almost expecting to see a man in her reflection.
She was back in her own body, but in her eyes, four golden irises briefly appeared around her own, and a distant voice pleaded in the recess of her mind.
“Free me... Ichigo.”
Seventeen Years Later
-
“Kurosaki-fukutaichō!”
Ichigo turned from her plate of food to see an unfamiliar man approach her table, squeezing through a crowd of people and holding a folded letter and a new bottle of saké.
“T-This is for you,” he spluttered, dumping the things next to her plate before dashing away, red-faced, as if his life was on the line.
She huffed before reaching over, quickly opening the letter to scan its contents.
Ichigo,
You are forbidden from returning to the division barracks for more work. Since Jūshirō is recuperating in Ugendō, you must party hard enough for two people.
Enjoy the saké~
The letter wasn’t signed, but she could practically hear Kyōraku’s voice as she folded the paper and tucked it away.
“What’s that all about?”
Ichigo turned to see Taisei sitting across from her, raising his thin blonde eyebrows in question.
She scoffed. “Kyōraku doesn’t want me to leave the party to be a responsible lieutenant.”
Taisei shrugged. “You technically are the star of this celebration, Ichigo.”
She sighed tiredly, wanting to rest her head on the table.
Two months ago, the Seiwa Clan had started a rebellion against the nobility, managing to assassinate three members of the Central 46 and cause chaos throughout Seireitei.
In most instances, civil war and internal strife was always handled by the Onmitsukidō, while the Gotei remained impartial and focused on keeping balance and exterminating hollows.
Ichigo had very much been minding her own business, neck-deep in work with Ukitake’s health suddenly turning for the worse, and hadn’t been paying attention to the recent case— until five days ago.
Two men had broken into her office in the middle of the night, and Ichigo woke up to see them crashing through piles of meticulously organised documents, leaving dirty footprints on the sheets.
Feeling the last shred of her sanity snap, she had slammed their heads into the floorboards before they could react, screaming about all the work she had to redo thanks to their clumsy shenanigans. She was so pissed that she had left them pinned to her wall with Kidō, waiting for them to regain consciousness so that she could continue scolding them.
Ichigo never got the chance however, as within an half an hour, her office was surrounded by dozens of Onmitsukidō members.
It was then she learned that she had taken down the last two leaders of the Seiwa Clan while they were fleeing.
Thus, the rebellion was finally quelled by her hand.
“I don’t wanna hear it,” she grumbled, her voice barely audible over the live music and chatter. “I didn’t do it for a party.”
Taisei laughed. “Of course not— but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re now the most feared Gotei member behind Yamamoto-sōtaichō.”
Ichigo rolled her eyes, pushing away her half-eaten dinner.
Rumours had it that the two Seiwa Clan leaders were extraordinarily powerful, able to stand toe to toe with captain-class shinigami and evade the Onmitsukidō for weeks on end.
Ichigo didn’t know if it was true but she didn’t care.
She still had yet to make up the paperwork that they messed up.
Taisei began to clear his plate, and Ichigo shot him a dark look.
“You’re not about to leave me here, are you?”
He froze, looking anywhere but into her eyes. “W-Well, I did promise to return home at a reasonable hour—“
Ichigo narrowed her eyes. “Oh, look at you, Kira Taisei— acting all grown up now that you’re married, hm?”
He blushed up to his ears, stammering his next words. “I—“
“Jii-chan might listen to you, but make no mistake, I am not the same,” she said, leaning across the table to glare at him. “If you leave me at this godforsaken party, I will tell Hana-chan that you used to admire the pretty 3rd Seat from the Sixth.”
Taisei looked completely shocked before leaning forward to hiss at her. “You wouldn’t dare!”
“Try me,” she challenged.
He was in fact, not ready to try her, and he slumped back into his seat. “This is retribution for making you babysit last week, isn’t it?”
Ichigo popped the cork off the saké bottle and began pouring the liquor into both their cups. “I actually forgot about that, but now that you mention it— you totally owe me.”
She shoved his cup back at him while Ichigo took a sip from her own, inwardly enjoying the light and sweet notes of the rice wine.
When it came to saké, Kyōraku truly knew what was good.
Taisei tipped his head back, swallowing the entire shot as Ichigo sent him a baleful glare. “Take it easy, you lightweight. I don’t want to carry you back again.”
He sighed, dropping the empty cup onto the table as he slowly sank into his chair. They were thankfully seated in a corner, hidden away from the main chaos of the celebration, and Ichigo took a moment to pour herself another shot.
“Ichigo,” he called quietly, resting his cheek on the table. “What is it like, being so strong?”
The question wasn’t surprising, knowing Taisei had been trying to achieve bankai for the past twenty years. Some people simply didn’t have the potential, and Ichigo was reminded that more than half of the shinigami force died or retired without even achieving shikai.
She was about to answer, wanting to soothe his ego and redirect the conversation, when a pair of deep brown eyes floated into her mind.
“Lonely,” she whispered, taking another sip. “Sometimes I wonder what life could have been like as a normal human.”
Having already lost her powers once, Ichigo seldom had thoughts of becoming human again, but she couldn’t shake off the feeling of desiring normalcy.
If her parents were just two regular people, she would grow up with a loving mother, a goofy but supportive father, and her two younger sisters at her side.
Taisei huffed, looking unimpressed. “Only you would say such a thing.”
Ichigo glanced out the window beside them, staring into the night sky.
Time had flown by in the blink of an eye, and Ichigo realised that she would soon celebrate her 35th birthday.
In the chaos of the Seiwa Clan’s rebellion, she had also missed Aizen’s arrival. The elusive man hadn’t even said anything on the day of, and only when Ichigo had regained her bearings earlier this morning, did she remember that he was born on May 29th of this year.
Four days had already passed by then.
Regardless, it wasn’t as if he could go anywhere as a baby, and Aizen himself hadn’t made a mention of it whatsoever.
She would have to take time off to visit Anjo tomorrow.
Glancing back at Taisei, ready to ask about his recent endeavours, Ichigo noticed that he was completely passed out on the table.
She sighed, feeling a smile tug at her lips.
“Guess I’m carrying you back again.”
When morning came, Ichigo walked quietly through the barracks, finding it emptier than ever. She had preemptively given everyone the morning off, knowing most of them would be nursing a hangover, and decided to make use of her free time.
She didn’t often get assignments into Rukongai, but knew that the residents generally feared or misunderstood Shinigami, especially those in the outer districts.
Anjo may have been close enough to Seireitei, but Ichigo wanted to appear as non-threatening as possible, and opted to leave Zangetsu behind while changing out of her shihakushō for something plain.
It only took ten minutes for her to arrive in Anjo, and many people were already going about their day, weaving through the clean streets or chatting with each other.
Ichigo was curious about Aizen’s childhood, and had asked him about his family, but the man seemed absolutely uninterested in the topic, revealing that he knew nothing of his parents nor did he care to know. He had grown up in a community with other unrelated children, and was mostly looked after by an elderly woman named Miya.
Stretching out her senses, Ichigo compressed the reiryoku around her, allowing her to visualise the spiritual threads of everyone in the district. White ribbons tangled in the air as she began sorting through the massive number of souls, looking for the one she was connected to.
Normally, babies didn’t have enough spiritual power to even manifest a ribbon, but Aizen was a different case, as she was directly connected to his soul.
A red reishi thread suddenly appeared along the road, stretching down the district before disappearing around a corner. After a moment of hesitation, Ichigo headed down the street and followed the trail.
She came to a large house just off the side of the main road, noting that it was connected to a shrine. The double doors were wide open, and a group of five children were running in and out, playing some sort of game.
The red ribbon continued inside, and Ichigo slowly stepped through the doorway and glanced around the large room.
“Yamada-chan, is that you?”
A voice called out from the back, and Ichigo glanced over to see a wooden door slide open as a middle-aged woman poked her head out.
“Ah— hello,” Ichigo lifted her hand awkwardly, having been caught. “I’m sorry for intruding, I was just passing by… and was curious about this place.”
The woman blinked in surprise before walking out with a soft smile.
“Did you just cross over?” She asked, looking sympathetic. “You’re lucky to have arrived here— Anjo is one of the best districts to make home in.”
Ichigo half-choked, unable to correct her misunderstanding. She didn’t think she could pass so easily as a normal soul, but not wanting to oust herself as a Shinigami, she could only agree.
“I see,” she nodded, clearing her throat. “Is this shrine your home?”
“Yes, it’s been entrusted to me after the last matron passed on,” the woman said. “Were you looking for a job?”
“Oh no,” Ichigo quickly waved her hands. “I don’t think I’m qualified for anything like that.”
The woman smiled encouragingly. “Well, I don’t sense any spiritual energy from you, so the good news is, you probably won’t need to eat.”
Ichigo smiled blandly in return. With all the training she had been doing over the years, she was pretty sure that every soul in the vicinity would collapse on the spot if her reiatsu leaked even by a small amount.
“Miya-san, I’m back— oh.”
Ichigo turned towards the entrance to see a teenage girl at the steps, glancing between them.
“Did you manage to bring the doctor?” The older woman asked, looking past the doorway with a frown.
“He said he’s busy for today, but will come by tomorrow morning,” she replied.
The woman sighed but didn’t seem surprised. “Alright, you can go play with the others. Make sure the little ones don’t go swimming near the deep end.”
The girl skipped away without another word, giving Ichigo one last curious look before running out of sight.
“Is someone sick?” Ichigo asked, turning towards the older woman— Miya, she realised.
“A small baby boy arrived just last week, and I’ve been a little worried over his condition,” she revealed.
Ichigo paused, glancing to the back room where Miya had walked out from. She couldn’t see much past the open door, but the reishi thread led directly inside.
Ultimately, even Aizen didn’t know what would happen to his past self. Being born with an incomplete soul was bound to come with consequences, but whether that meant general weakness or complete soul-suicide— neither had any idea.
“Do you mind if I take a look?” Ichigo asked sincerely. “I do have some medical training.”
Miya’s eyes widened happily, looking quite pleased. “Of course! Please follow me.”
She led her towards the back room, and Ichigo noticed that a few futons were scattered along the ground, likely making up the children’s sleeping quarters.
In the corner was a slightly raised futon, with a small toddler sleeping on the edge. All Ichigo could see was a head of brown hair poking out from under the blanket.
Her first thought was that Aizen had gotten his own birthday wrong. She had helped deliver babies at the clinic before, and if he was truly born five days ago, there was no way he could already be so big.
“Did you say he crossed over?” Ichigo turned around to glance at Miya. “Or was he born here?
“I think he was left behind,” the older woman admitted. “When I went out early in the morning, he was sleeping in front of the shrine by himself.”
Ichigo hummed in thought. She knew Rukia had been deserted by her sister, but that was in the 78th district, where poverty and crime ruled the streets. “Is it common for people to abandon their children here?”
The woman shook her head. “Even if something happened to the parents, the neighbours would take in the child. Most families in Rukongai aren’t related to each other anyway.”
“Then why do you think he was deliberately left here?” Ichigo asked, carefully observing the woman’s face.
She pursed her lips. “Souls that cross over can only do so with the clothes on their back. When I found the boy last week, he was covered in a quilt— one of high quality if I might add.”
“I see,” Ichigo mumbled.
Either Aizen died in the Living World five days ago, or he had been born in Soul Society a year or two before, and was just now abandoned in Anjo.
“What's wrong with him?” Ichigo asked, settling beside the futon.
“If the boy wasn’t breathing, I’d have thought he was dead,” Miya said with a worried expression. “He doesn't cry, barely moves, and sleeps constantly.”
Ichigo observed him carefully, but didn’t see anything unusual from his outward appearance. He was curled up on his side in deep sleep, seemingly dead to the world.
She reached out, gently brushing his hair to the side and pressed the back of her hand against his forehead. Their soul-tie pulsed with energy at the sudden connection, and through it, she was able to sense the problem within his chest.
His Saketsu and Hakusui were impaired, likely originating from the fact that he had been born with an incomplete soul.
There was no healing Kidō that could reverse the damage, so all Ichigo could do was share some of her spiritual energy through physical contact and hope that Aizen’s own reiryoku would seep into his younger self.
To her surprise, she could feel the two points in his chest start to heal, and the reiryoku that had fallen stagnant in his body began circulating again.
Within a few minutes, he opened his eyes.
He blinked slowly, likely disoriented from sleeping so long, and let out a soft mumble.
“Oh!” Miya gasped from beside her, coming around the other side of the futon to help pull the blanket away. “You’re finally awake, little Sōsuke-kun!”
He struggled to sit up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, and Ichigo noted that his tiny body was barely the length of her arm.
“Did you name him?” She asked, looking at Miya with surprise.
The older woman shook her head. “It was stitched onto the clothes he arrived in. Although, he’s never been awake enough to tell me if the name was really his.”
Ichigo glanced down, noticing Aizen’s unwavering stare. For a baby, he seemed exceptionally focused, and his large brown eyes bore into hers unblinkingly.
She gently placed a hand on his head, using the contact to transfer more of her spiritual energy. He seemed to lean into her touch, eyes fluttering closed as if overwhelmed by the onslaught of reiryoku in his body.
Ichigo simply hoped that the repair would last.
“It’s a good name,” she said at last, slowly lifting her hand away.
“I think so too,” Miya agreed, before quickly getting to her feet. “I’ll go bring him some water.”
Miya walked down the length of the room, about to pass under the doorway when she glanced over her shoulder, as if remembering something.
“By the way, what was your na—"
She froze in her tracks, finding the orange-haired woman suddenly gone, and the room empty as if she had never been there in the first place.
Chills rolled down her spine.
Still sitting up on the futon, the small boy stared out through the open window, his hand partially outstretched as if reaching for something long gone.
“So? What do you think?”
Sitting across from her, Aizen lounged on the bench, his posture relaxed and languid as he rested his head on his hand.
After Ichigo had linked their souls, the remains of his Muken clothing and seals had all but disappeared, leaving him in a simple white yukata.
It was as if the smug bastard knew he looked good in white, and instead of conjuring more appropriate clothes, he lazed around as if her inner world was his personal bedroom.
“I didn’t feel anything of note,” he said simply,
“Nothing?” Ichigo scowled, crossing her arms. “Then how am I supposed to get you out of here?”
“Why the rush?” He asked casually. “Regardless of the method, it will be a difficult process to undertake.”
She inwardly agreed, but didn’t want to sit around and wait. “Don’t you want to return to your own body as soon as possible?”
“Are you so eager to get rid of me, Ichigo?” Aizen smirked. “And here I was, enjoying my time here.”
She huffed. “Stop acting like you’re taking a vacation in my soul. If you won’t help, I’ll have to ask Hikifune— or maybe Kisuke when he’s older.”
Aizen’s face immediately darkened. “You will not involve Urahara Kisuke. I forbid it.”
“Oh?” She raised a brow, amused by his hostility. “And how are you gonna stop me?”
“I will find a way to stay here forever if you involve him,” he hissed, eyes narrowed.
Ichigo sighed, raising her hands in surrender. “Fine, we can figure it out in the future. In the meantime, what should I do with your younger self?”
Aizen finally relaxed again, looking off to the side. “What is there to do? Just leave him be.”
“Isn’t his condition a little worrisome?” She argued.
“Unstable, maybe, but nowhere near soul-suicide,” he said evenly. “I doubt he’ll die even if you forget about him for the next century.”
Ichigo hummed in thought. “Maybe I should adopt him?”
“Absolutely not,” he said, looking appalled by the mere suggestion.
She grinned, knowing she had unnerved him. It wasn’t often Aizen was thrown off guard, but after nearly two decades, Ichigo was learning how to press his buttons.
“Aren’t you curious about your parents?” She asked, turning more serious. “Or the reason why you were left in Rukongai?”
“Those who live in the past will die there,” he said disinterestedly. “I have no desire to chase after the ghosts before my time.”
Ichigo frowned slightly as she turned to face him. She had originally flagged Aizen as a cold psychopath, but now she was beginning to wonder if he simply couldn’t develop emotional attachments.
There was no doubt that he understood human psychology— mastered it even, based on how easily he manipulated those around him for centuries. Clearly there were things Aizen cared about, but when it came to people, they held no weight in his gaze.
He had pointed his blade at the Gotei, his own lieutenant, the Espada that swore loyalty to him, and even Tōsen and Ichimaru.
“Then what do you want to do?” Ichigo asked blunty. “You said you wanted to change your fate, and now here’s your chance.”
Aizen seemed contemplative, lazily tilting his head as he met her gaze. “Are you expecting me to say that I’ll live honourably this time around— abiding by the laws and bending my knee to a false god?”
Ichigo shot him a flat look, unamused. “I suppose that’s too much to ask.”
“You’ve been in Soul Society for almost two decades now, and yet you still believe this place holds your high morals in regard?” He asked mockingly.
She scowled, unable to completely refute him. “I recognize that there are issues, but that doesn’t mean we need to resort to drastic means.”
“Ah, yes, because the welfare legislation you and Shiba Enji have been trying to pass for the last decade definitely didn’t get trashed by the Central 46 yet again.”
Ichigo clenched her jaw, unwilling to let emotions get the best of her. “Then I’ll keep trying.”
Aizen raised his head, his lips twisting into a jeering smile. “How kind of you to negotiate with criminals.”
“I’m negotiating with you, aren’t I?” She shot back.
He snorted. “You wound me— comparing me to those lesser life forms. The number of people I’ve killed don’t even come close to the amount of blood on Yamamoto’s hands.”
Ichigo remained silent, knowing she was fighting a losing battle. How could she argue when the very foundations of the world were built upon the mutilation of an innocent man?
The war with Yhwach taught her that the balance of the realms were eventually doomed to fail. History had been written by the victors, and as long as the Shinigami and Quincy remained at odds, there would never be true peace.
“Despairing already?” Aizen asked, voice low with amusement.
She turned to see him casually twirling a lock of her hair around his finger, arm outstretched across the length of the bench.
She didn't remember when it had started, but as the years passed and Ichigo allowed her hair to grow long, he had developed a habit of touching her hair when she was within arms reach.
Had he been a normal man, she would have assumed he was teasing her, but she figured that he saw her more as a fun toy than an actual person.
“No,” she said firmly, sending him a dark look. “I’ll keep doing what I have to do.”
“Very well,” Aizen smiled, looking genuinely pleased. “I await the day you tire of Seireitei’s corruption and reach your breaking point. Your unravelling will surely be a joy to witness.”
He lifted his hand, pressing the ends of her hair against his lips as he stared at her with wicked eyes.
“You can’t protect everyone forever.”
A long stretch of awkward silence filled the air as Ichigo stared down at a pile of official documents in her hands, then glanced between the two men sitting around the table.
Ukitake looked sullen, eyes downcast and shoulders hunched.
Kyōraku sent her a happy grin, and wriggled his eyebrows in a suggestive gesture.
Ichigo shot him a scowl. “You can’t be serious?”
Kyōraku’s smile widened. “I’m afraid it’s very serious. The forms were already submitted, and Yama-jii approved them this morning.”
She gave the document another look, as if needing to double check what was written.
Gotei 13 Captain Candidate Report
Recommendation for: Lieutenant Kurosaki Ichigo.
“I didn’t submit any forms though,” she frowned, glancing at the huge stack of additional papers that were piled off to the side.
“Unfortunately for you, there was a demand, and your name was tossed into the pool of potential candidates,” he said with a shrug.
Ichigo grumbled softly.
With the Seiwa Rebellion leaving gaps in the Central 46, two seats were swiftly taken by elder noblemen, and the last spot was given to Tsunayashiro Atsumori, the Captain of the Fifth Division.
“It’s been almost a year since Atsumori-san left the Fifth,” Kyōraku said offhandedly. “Yama-jii doesn’t want to wait any longer since there’s been a growing unrest among the common folk.”
Ichigo closed her eyes, realising that an entire year had already gone by since the rebellion.
After Yamamoto had basically forced the Lieutenant position on her, she had promised herself it would only be a temporary measure until she discovered how to return home.
Formally accepting the role of a Captain would feel like the final nail in the coffin— that the future she came from would never come to pass, and all hope for fixing the timeline would be lost.
“So what now?” She asked warily. “Am I approved to undertake the Captain Proficiency Test?”
There was another beat of awkward silence as Kyōraku gave her a feeble smile.
“Ichigo,” he said slowly. “You were nominated by personal recommendation, and approved for the position this morning. You only need to accept or decline now.”
She froze, jaw dropping at the sudden turn of events. “ Who recommended me?”
Out of the three ways to become a captain, getting in by personal recommendation was said to be the hardest, since it didn't require any public demonstration of power. The prospect needed at least six current captains to submit a personal report and testimony, followed by signed approval from at least three more captains.
Kyōraku reached over to the pile of documents on her left, casually flipping through the corners before sliding out a single sheet.
Ichigo stared in disbelief, reading through the short list.
Personal Recommendations received by:
Shihōin Yahiko
Unohana Retsu
Kuchiki Ginrei
Kyōraku Shunsui
Shiba Enji
Hikifune Kirio
The others made sense, but Ichigo hadn’t visited Hikifune in almost six months, and the last time she made a trip to the Fourth Division was when Satoshi was admitted after a Hollow attack— she didn’t even see Unohana.
“Perhaps your handling of the Seiwa Rebellion left a strong impression on the Captains, Ichigo, because the remaining members all approved of your promotion,” Kyōraku revealed, before turning to look at Ukitake. “Well, everyone except Jūshirō.”
Ichigo glanced over in mild surprise, seeing Ukitake cross his arms, looking very much like a sulking child.
“Being a Captain is stressful,” he argued, speaking up for the first time. “Is it so wrong of me to want to keep Ichigo from that?”
“Hn,” Kyōraku grunted, shooting him a provocative look. “Everyone knows you just don’t want to lose your Lieutenant.”
“They should!” Ukitake burst out, looking uncharacteristically irked. “Ichigo is hardworking, kind, and exceedingly reliable! Anyone would be honoured to work with her!”
Feeling her cheeks burn with the sudden praise, Ichigo shifted her gaze away, flustered beyond words. “Uh— I—“
Ukitake didn’t stop however. “Besides, the Fifth Division is a horrible mess! I can’t allow her to inherit such a tumultuous position in good conscience!”
Ichigo couldn't argue with that. While she didn’t have many interactions with the ex-Fifth Division Captain, the Tsunayashiro Clan was one of the Five Great Noble Families, and they held great prestige and power over all the inner dealings within Seireitei.
Tsunayashiro Astumori had been Captain for nearly a century, and was known to only accept those of noble blood into his squad. Over the years, it became filled with Shinigami who had gotten in through connections or money, and was rumoured to function through dubious or downright illegal means.
However, there was nothing anyone could do about it. Soul Society was built around the authority of the nobles, and even Yamamoto didn’t have control over what went on in Tsunayashiro’s Division.
Ichigo didn’t know how many more hands the Fifth Division went through by the time Shinji and Aizen came around, but she guessed that the horrible reputation they carried would last a while longer.
“I concede that the current Division availability is… less than ideal,” Kyōraku agreed with a slow nod, “but I believe Ichigo is more than capable enough of turning things around.”
Ukitake didn’t back down. “I can’t believe you’re pushing for this, Shunsui.”
Sensing the tension rise, Ichigo gently pressed her hand on Ukitake’s clenched fist, trying to soothe his anger.
In the end, Aizen was right.
Ichigo might not have wanted to be a Captain or inherit such an awful legacy, but she couldn’t just stand around forever. If she wanted to see change in Seireitei, she needed power.
“I will accept,” she said simply.
Ukitake shot her a horrified look and even Kyōraku seemed surprised.
“Ichigo…” Ukitake muttered, a complicated expression on his face.
“Are you certain?” Kyōraku asked, leaning forward.
She nodded. “You both know how I feel about the noble authority in Seireitei— this is a chance for me to do some good.”
Ukitake sighed softly, already knowing her heart, and Kyōraku nodded in agreement.
“Besides,” she added, giving Ukitake a soft smile. “I can’t stay under your wings forever, regardless of how good it’s been here.”
He seemed touched by the remark, and looked down, his eyes suddenly teary.
“Don’t be fooled, Ichigo-chan,” Kyōraku said lightly. “Jūshirō might not have supported you on official records, but he out of all us, has the greatest faith in you.”
She sent him a grateful look, trying not to succumb to the sudden onslaught of emotions. “You won’t forget me after I leave, right?”
Ichigo had worked and lived with Ukitake for almost twenty years now. Even though she was a stranger out of time, he had sheltered her in his Division, listened to her woes, and supported her through thick and thin.
Ukitake raised his hand and placed it on her head, the gesture familiar and comfortable. She wondered for a brief moment if this would be the last time he did so, since she would no longer be a subordinate.
“You’ll always have a place here, Ichigo. Anything you need, anytime you want to rest— just return here.”
She closed her eyes, trying to imprint the memory of his warm hand and gentle voice as her heart swelled with fondness.
“Thank you.”
Notes:
Ichigo’s finally grown up but Ukitake is still being a protective dad 🤗 (he’s so proud of her though).
Baby Aizen is finally here too! There will be another time skip next chapter, as I intended this one to be more focused on laying the groundwork for Arc 2.
Lastly, if anyone has any questions regarding the CFYOW material or the TYBW anime-exclusive scenes regarding the Soul King, ask away in the comments and I’ll do my best to explain the current lore 😊
Chapter 10
Notes:
I just wanted to give a huge shout out to everyone who writes me comments, I had some extra time this week and had to respond to all of you 😊 I've always felt awkward replying since I know it falsely inflates the comment count for my fic, and it's hard for me to think of something unique to say instead of always writing 'thank you' for everything. I just wanted y'all to know that I read them (re-read sometimes) and I appreciate every one! ❤️
Another time skip in this chapter, and then we'll settle here for a bit. Hope you guys enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Ryuzaki Daizō was a Shinigami of Squad Five.
He had failed the Shin’ō Academy entrance exam twice, and failed the Gotei 13 proficiency test upon graduation. If it wasn’t for his mother’s connections with the Sumida Clan, who were retainers of the Tsunayashiro Noble Family, Daizō would have been forced to return home in shame.
He had been embarrassed about the ordeal, not wanting to reveal that he had practically bought his way into the Gotei, but he soon learned that most of his peers within the Fifth Division were exactly the same.
Under the Tsunayashiro family name, they had free reign to do whatever they liked around Seireitei, as long as they didn’t break any major laws. And even if they did, they would eventually get bailed out with a slap on the wrist.
For thirty years, Daizō had lived a comfortable life, and experienced the prestige of a Shinigami without actually having to put into any of the work.
Until one day, things began to go downhill.
Lieutenant Okabe was killed during the Seiwa Rebellion, having gotten caught in the crossfire of a battle.
Two months later, Captain Tsunayashiro left the Gotei to join the ranks of the Central 46, leaving them with no leadership and no protection.
Everything quickly devolved from there.
There were constant fights within the squad, with those desiring more power to use every underhanded method possible to achieve it, and flaunted the weight of their clan name at every opportunity.
The Ryuzaki Clan were lesser nobles, having lost most of the family money to squandering ancestors, and lived no different from commoners. All he could do was keep his head down and hope that no one would look twice at him.
For nearly a year, the Division continued to crumble from within, and he wondered if he should just quit, knowing he didn’t have the skills to transfer to another squad.
Then Kurosaki Ichigo arrived.
Most of them knew her as the Lieutenant who managed to stop the Seiwa Rebellion. However, there were plenty of rumours surrounding her feats, with many believing that Captain Ukitake was the one to defeat them and had simply given her the credit.
Even though the Fifth Division was in ruins, no one wanted to submit to an outsider, much less a young woman, but they could do nothing against her arrival. Regardless of her strength as a Shinigami, there was no one else who could match the backing of her noble clan.
Daizō didn’t understand why she continued to use her mother’s last name, but there was absolutely no doubt that she was properly legitimised and considered a Shiba, by blood and by law.
With bright orange hair and a stern look on her face, she strode through the Fifth Division barracks one morning and gathered all the members onto the training field.
It had been years since any of them used the division’s training ground to do any training , and by the looks of everyone else who gathered around him— no one was happy to be there.
“Good morning, squad members,” she called, her voice easily projecting over the large area. “I’m Kurosaki Ichigo, the new Captain of the Fifth Division.”
No one greeted her in return, and a few were brave enough to jeer openly in her face.
Standing atop the platform, he saw Kurosaki’s smile widen, and a sudden chill rolled down his back.
“Make no mistake, I will not run this division the same way my predecessor did,” she said firmly, her eyes narrowing into the crowd. “From this moment on, you are under my command and authority, and any act of disobedience or rebellion will be swiftly punished.”
Daizō paused, feeling the atmosphere of the crowd crackle with resentment, and even he felt a little irritated at her arrogance.
Who did she think she was?
“My first order of business is simple,” she said, chin raised high. “Effective immediately, all seated officers are stripped of their rank and titles, and every member will undergo a new evaluation.”
Chaos broke out before she even finished her sentence, and the crowd burst into shouts of protests and ridicule. Some even laughed and mocked her statement, declaring that they would never give up their positions.
Daizō felt the same. He may have only been a nineteenth seat, sharing the rank with twenty other shinigami, but it was a matter of pride that he refused to just lose.
Under the sneers and insults of the entire squad, Kurosaki Ichigo remained eerily calm.
“The new evaluation is simple, and it will be done right now,” she said with a grin, waving her hand in some sort of placating gesture. “All you have to do—
Her smile suddenly disappeared, and she stared down at them with a cold expression.
“—is stand up.”
Reiatsu tore through the atmosphere, slamming down on them, and across the entire training ground, the repetitive sound of knees hitting the dirt echoed amongst breathless gasps.
Daizō immediately fell on all fours, feeling as if gravity had tripled around him, and somewhere to his left, a man heaved and vomited.
The pressure was so heavy and suffocating, his body trembled under the weight, sweat ran down his face, and all the breath in his lungs escaped him.
“Anyone who manages to get up will be bestowed back their rank and titles,” Kurosaki said calmly, her voice nearly drowned out by the noise around him. “If you didn’t have a seat before, you will be granted one.”
Someone to Daizō’s right collapsed on the dirt, losing consciousness.
“Why is no one standing up?” She demanded loudly. “Were the noble Shinigami of the Fifth Division always this weak?!”
The pressure doubled, and Daizō choked, trying to retain the last of his awareness. Fear crept up his shaking limbs as his heart beat painfully against his rib cage, unable to move.
He didn’t understand how someone’s spiritual pressure could feel so powerful.
Many years ago, he had felt Captain Tsunayashiro’s reiatsu during a skirmish in Rukongai. Although the pressure made his knees feel weak, it was nothing compared to how he felt now.
Through his blurred vision, he could see the back of his hands start to disintegrate into reishi, tearing into his skin and peeling away layers of his spiritual body, and a soundless scream of horror escaped his throat.
He crashed face first into the dirt, inwardly praying to every deity he knew for mercy.
If he survived this, he swore he would never go drinking or gambling again.
He’d go and apologise to anyone he’s ever harassed.
He would train seriously, and reconcile with his zanpakutō.
And he would never— even in his thoughts, disrespect Captain Kurosaki ever again.
Twenty Years Later
-
“Kurosaki-taichō, delivery from the Tenth!”
Ichigo didn’t even look up from her paperwork, and gestured to the table beside her.
“Leave it there.”
“Yes, taichō!”
Amused by her subordinate’s enthusiasm, Ichigo glanced up to see a dark haired man drop a large box on the table before he turned to meet her eyes. If she remembered correctly, his name was Daizō.
He immediately seized up as if struck by lightning, and his back snapped forward in a ninety degree bow.
“Have a wonderful evening, taichō!”
He then ran out before she could respond, and Ichigo had a feeling the man would have used shunpo to escape faster had he known how.
She chuckled lightly, resting her chin on her hand. After years of hard work and intense discipline, the Fifth Division was finally starting to turn away from their poor reputation.
After her initial display of force, the squad of 200 Shinigami immediately dropped to 150, as a quarter of them escaped as if their lives were on the line.
Ichigo didn’t mind.
Many had joined the Fifth to be Shinigami in name only, and didn’t have the drive or the commitment to actually put their lives on the line.
By six months, her numbers dropped again to 100, as another group of people, exhausted from the daily training and new responsibilities, decided to simply give up and return to their noble families and live as a civilian.
Ichigo gave each one of them a cordial send off.
Over the next ten years, her Division had averaged around 80 members, the smallest in the Gotei by a far margin, but Ichigo found it much easier to manage and train.
Of course, her initial measures hadn’t gone unnoticed by the lesser noble families, and many of them had clamoured together to complain how barbaric and brutal it was for her to crush her own subordinates with reiatsu.
Ichigo simply smiled, and offered to do it again should they keep complaining.
It was well within the Captain’s authority to punish and promote squad members as they saw fit, and much of what happened within a Division was outside the control of the noble families and even the Central 46. The moment a Shinigami joined the Gotei, they were considered as property of their designated squad, which is how even hundreds of years later, Mayuri was able to get away with outright experimenting on and killing his own squad members.
And as much as she hated to use it, the Shiba name was often more than enough to combat any larger threats.
After another ten years, the Division was finally starting to pull their weight, and the Shinigami of the Fifth were newly rumoured to be exceedingly hardworking individuals.
Ichigo had to actually limit the amount of new squad members every year, since the number of applications greatly exceeded her capacity to manage them.
They were hovering around 160 members, but she had only assigned seated officers up to the Fourth Seat.
The Lieutenant position and the Third Seat remained empty for the last twenty years.
Ichigo had gotten used to the extra workload, but Ukitake had been adamant about her finding a potential Third Seat— even if it meant poaching from another Division.
Which is how Kyōraku slipped her a Division Transfer Request file, stating that his current Fourth Seat had inquired about her squad, and asked for the opportunity to move.
“He’s real good, Ichigo-chan,” Kyōraku said with a lazy grin. “I’d keep him if I had an open spot to promote him to, but well, I think he’ll do much better with you.”
She had been about to decline, unsure about stealing from Kyōraku’s Division, when she saw the name of the transfer.
Hirako Shinji.
It had been almost forty years since she last saw his name during a Lieutenants meeting, spotting him on a list of Shin’ō Academy graduates.
She felt a strange sense of guilt, realising that she had taken his future position, even if it was another hundred years down the line.
“Hm,” she grunted, scanning through his file. “If you’re recommending him, I suppose I can give it some thought.”
“Kid’s got a good head on his shoulders,” Kyōraku said encouragingly. “And I’m pretty sure he has a huge crush on you.”
Ichigo spluttered, covering her mouth just in time to avoid getting tea on Ukitake’s haori.
Kyōraku laughed at her reaction as Ukitake handed her a napkin, and she shot the dark haired man a glare.
“Why would you even joke about that?” She huffed, wiping her face.
“It’s the truth!” Kyōraku said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “He was delivering papers to your division once and saw you from afar— said you had the most beautiful orange hair he had ever seen.”
Ichigo scowled.
She knew Shinji liked to joke about every other girl being his first love, and had even included Orihime on the list, but she hadn’t realised his mischievous tendencies started from such a young age.
“I’m rejecting him,” she said flatly.
“Oh, come on, Ichigo-chan!” Kyōraku teased. “I doubt he’ll do anything anyway, and it’s good to have subordinates who love you, rather than fear you.”
“My subordinates don’t fear me,” she shot back. “They’re just disciplined.”
“Mhmm.”
In the end, Ichigo relented and decided to accept him into her squad, and she and Kyōraku settled on an official date to finalise the transfer.
A soft series of knocks rattled against her door, and Ichigo quickly finished writing the rest of her sentence.
“Come in,” she called.
Kyōraku appeared in the doorway, giving her a cheerful wave before grinning happily. “Ichigo- chaaan, look who I brought over!”
He moved aside, revealing a young boy Ichigo immediately recognized as Shinji.
He looked to be around fourteen years old, with baby fat still on his cheeks, and his pin straight blonde hair pulled back in a loose ponytail.
To her horror, Shinji actually blushed when meeting her eyes, and he quickly lowered his head to bow.
“I-It’s an honour to meet you, Kurosaki-taichō!” He said hurriedly. “I’m Hirako Shinji, Fourth Seat of the Eighth Division.”
Kyōraku lightly smacked the boy’s head. “Not anymore, kid. You’re one of Ichigo’s now.”
She shot the older man a glare, knowing he had used such ambiguous words on purpose. “And what are you doing here? Trying to transfer into my Division too?”
Kyōraku chuckled. “Oh no, I wouldn’t be able to last a day in your hands. Just here to make sure this one gets properly acquainted.”
He leaned down, mock-whispering into Shinji’s ear. “Don’t worry, she’s not as scary as the rumours say.”
Shinji shot Kyōraku a half-hearted glare then turned to face her again.
“Thank you for accepting me into the Fifth,” he said more firmly, eyes steady as he gazed at her. “As your Third Seat, I swear to do my utmost to support you and lead the rest of the squad with diligence.”
Kyōraku sent her a wink, and Ichigo was tempted to throw her brush at him.
“I’m glad to hear it,” she said instead, pleased by his attitude. “I’ll be depending on you a lot from here on out, Shinji. Welcome to the Division.”
Meeting her smile, Shinji’s whole body stiffened slightly, and she could see his ears turn red.
“Y-Yes, Kurosaki-taichō!”
Turning away from him, Ichigo shot Kyōraku a dark look, knowing he had set her up on purpose. The man absolutely thrived in awkward chaos and she felt almost sorry for Shinji, having ended up as a victim for Kyōraku’s amusement.
Ichigo sighed, sensing an incoming headache.
This was definitely a mistake.
Contrary to Ichigo’s expectations, Shinji adapted to his new position rather quickly, and was able to take over a significant portion of her work.
He had a natural talent with people, and she was reminded that even amongst the various Captains and Lieutenants of the Visored, Shinji had come out on top as their leader.
He was also the only one who saw through Aizen’s facade, although the latter managed to always stay one step ahead.
Three months into his transfer, Ichigo regretted not asking for him earlier.
“Taichō? These are finished.”
She glanced up to see Shinji in her doorway, holding up a stack of papers.
“Good work,” she praised, setting aside her own documents. “Go ahead and take the rest of the day off.”
He didn’t look surprised at her suggestion. “I heard you were planning to visit the Academy.”
“Yeah,” she confirmed. “My little cousin is graduating today so I told him I’d be there.”
Six years ago, Sōjun had surprised everyone by declaring his desire to attend Shin’ō Academy.
Everyone except Ichigo.
She knew how lonely the boy was, growing up in the Kuchiki Manor with no children his age, and although Ichigo visited at least twice a month, it was far from enough.
Attending the Academy would not only allow him to finally leave the confines of his home, but also make some genuine friends.
Aside from the Shiba, the other Great Noble Families rarely sent their children to the Academy. Since it was a matter of raising future successors, only the best resources were considered for their education.
Yoruichi and Kisuke, although old enough to attend, were trained at home along with the Onmitsukidō.
Izuru had already graduated from the Academy a decade ago, and worked with Enji in the Tenth Division, while Isshin remained uninterested in both prospects, and spent most of his time playing in Rukongai.
After many nights of discussion, and with Ichigo finally stepping up to voice her support for Sōjun’s wishes, Ginrei allowed his son to attend.
Six years had already passed since then.
“You’re referring to Kuchiki-taichō’s son?” Shinji asked.
Ichigo nodded. “You know him?”
“Not personally,” he shook his head. “But I did hear rumours that he was talented enough to graduate early, but chose to attend all six years.”
She smirked slightly, knowing it was Sōjun’s way of freedom. She was certain that if it didn’t leave a permanent record, he would have deliberately failed a few classes in order to repeat a school year and stay longer.
“I did train him after all,” she said cheerfully.
“You did?” Shinji asked in surprise. “Is he coming to the Fifth?”
Ichigo laughed shortly. “He tried to apply, but Ginrei sent me a very persuasive letter and asked me not to rob him of his only heir.”
Shinji huffed. “Good, I don’t want any more competition.”
Organising the last of her papers, Ichigo sent him a teasing grin as she prepared to leave.
“Oh? You don’t want me to find any potential recruits?” She asked with a raised brow. “Speaking of, you never sent me the list of this year's graduating class.”
Shinji pouted, gesturing to the stack of papers he had just put down. “It’s in there, do you want to take it with you?”
Ichigo waved her hand. “I’ll have a look when I get back. Enjoy your night off, Shinji!”
With that, Ichigo left the Fifth Division barracks, happily leaping over rooftops and enjoying the fresh air.
Back inside the office, Shinji frowned as he reached over to the pile of papers, and pulled out the report from Shin’ō Academy.
Having already read through it once, he flipped to the last page, scanning through the contents once more, as if he couldn’t believe what he had read the first time around.
A strange sense of unease settled in his gut as he stared down at the graduate’s name, but he was inwardly relieved to see that they hadn’t decided which organisation to join yet.
Out of the Kidō Corps, the Onmitsukidō, and the thirteen different squads of the Gotei, what were the chances that this child prodigy would join the Fifth?
Somewhat reassured, Shinji put the report back in its place and left the office, wondering what he should do for the rest of the afternoon. He yawned loudly, stretching his arms over his head as he padded down the hallway.
Another peaceful day.
Ichigo had visited Shin’ō Academy a grand total of three times in the last forty years.
One was for Izuru’s graduation, the second was for her own— in which her Kidō and History instructors had met her in an office and casually handed her a certificate— and the last had been during a late night tour, guided by a tipsy Kyōraku and a reminiscing Ukitake.
Ichigo walked towards the main auditorium, trying to sneak by a hidden road in order to avoid any unwanted attention.
It was expected for friends and family to attend the graduation, and seeing the upper echelon of nobility during such an occasion wasn’t rare, but a Gotei Captain drew eyes wherever they went.
Had she not feared getting scolded by Yamamoto about upholding the dignity of a Captain, Ichigo would have left her white haori behind and changed out of her Shinigami attire entirely.
Slipping inside the auditorium through a side door, Ichigo quickly climbed up the stairs, intently ignoring every whisper and eye that darted in her direction.
Already sitting at the very top level, however, was a familiar face.
“Ginrei-jii-sama?” She called out, coming to an abrupt stop near the last few steps.
Kuchiki Ginrei, in all his noble elegance and grandeur, was currently seated on one of the auditorium chairs, with an extremely wide berth of empty space around him.
He appeared alone, but Ichigo had no doubt that the Kuchiki Clan hidden guards were scattered around the auditorium in every available crevice.
“Hn, Ichigo, you’re almost late,” he said in greeting.
Feeling her eye twitch with restraint, Ichigo fought back a sigh and took the seat beside him after giving him a short bow.
“You said you couldn’t make it,” she reminded gently.
Having one Captain attend the graduation ceremony was already a big deal, but having two Captains, with one of them being the Head of a Great Noble Family— was an immediate flag for attention.
In hindsight, she should have expected this of him. Over the years, she learned that Ginrei displayed his affection in secretive ways, and scheming for two Captains to appear in support of Sōjun was simply how he expressed his pride.
She could still remember the day he overheard Ichigo referring to Enji as ‘jii-chan’, and immediately asked why he had not been given the same respect.
Ichigo had blinked, gobsmacked, wondering if she had heard wrong, but the serious expression on his face was enough to warrant her obedience.
Who was she to deny a man on his 1000th birthday?
After having changed her address from ‘Kuchiki-sama’ to ‘Ginrei-jii-sama’, Ichigo swore she saw him smile as he walked away.
“With my Lieutenant’s usual incompetence, I rightly assumed my time would be limited,” he answered, straight-faced as ever.
Ichigo didn’t believe a single word, but nodded seriously anyway.
Lieutenant Kujou was the oldest and most respected lieutenant after Sasakibe, and Ichigo was pretty sure the man had long mastered bankai, but chose to remain under Ginrei’s command.
“Yes, you’re right, I’m glad we both made it here to see Sōjun,” she replied, biting back a smile.
Soon enough, the auditorium began to crowd with attendees, but to Ichigo’s amusement, a span of ten seats in every direction of Ginrei remained empty.
The lights gradually dimmed as an elderly man, who Ichigo recognised as the Academy’s Headmaster, stepped onto the stage to welcome them.
Having attended Izuru’s graduation ceremony a decade prior, Ichigo was well rehearsed with the program’s schedule, and fought to stay focused as the Headmaster gave a speech for half an hour, then spent another twenty minutes thanking all the faculty and every donor.
By the time Ichigo was starting to doze off, the roll call finally began.
Depending on the year, the graduating class averaged around three hundred members, which usually took over an hour of non-stop name calling.
The standard class graduates were called first, then the advanced class followed. Although Sōjun decided to take his sweet time attending every year the Academy would provide, Ichigo knew he was more than capable enough of being in the advanced course.
“Kuchiki Sōjun!”
Ichigo straightened her back and cheered, raising her hand in an eye-catching wave as she noticed Sōjun’s gaze scan through the crowd.
Having spotted her motion, Sōjun waved back, a cheek splitting grin across his bright face as he skipped off the stage.
Ginrei, for his part, didn't shout or even stand to his feet— clearly finding such actions unruly, but Ichigo detected that his polite clapping had gotten faster, and his gaze softened as Sōjun walked past.
When the last student had been called, and the Headmaster returned to the podium, Ichigo prepared to leave her seat.
“Finally, I’d like to give a special announcement to conclude this ceremony,” he said loudly, looking more excited than before. “A young student has managed to break the previous graduation record and finished his studies in a single year!”
Ichigo paused, sliding back into her chair with a contemplative frown as the crowd erupted with astonishment. She hadn’t checked the list of graduates for this year, but she was certain that in the history of the Academy, the only one-year prodigies were Ichimaru Gin and Hitsugaya Tōshirō.
And this was very much before their time.
She glanced beside her, noting that Ginrei looked unsurprised. “Jii-sama, did you already know?”
He sent her an unimpressed look. “His record was published in the recent class report.”
“Ah, I didn’t have a chance to look at it,” she admitted sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck.
The Headmaster’s voice boomed through the auditorium again as he raised his arm in a beckoning gesture. “The most extraordinary child prodigy to graduate this Academy, please welcome—“
Ichigo’s gaze fell across the stage as a small figure walked out from behind the curtain. He was clearly shorter than all his peers, physically appearing to be seven or eight years old, and had a head of messy brown hair.
She froze in her seat, staring at the boy in disbelief as a sense of foreboding settled in the pit of her stomach.
There was no way she wouldn’t be able to recognize him, but he was well over a hundred years too early, and should have been spending his days in Rukongai.
The Headmaster beamed with pride, hand outstretched over the boy’s shoulder to receive him.
“—Aizen Sōsuke!”
The noise of the crowd exasperated his headache.
The lights were too bright, the Headmaster was too enthusiastic, and he would have preferred to skip the entire ceremony as he loathed such pointless gatherings.
There was no one here to see him anyway.
Sōsuke received his diploma and briefly scanned through the audience, finding his gaze drawn towards the very top row of seats.
Although the lighting over the crowd was dark, he was still able to make out the figures of two people sitting beside each other, with a bizarre space of empty seats all around them, as if no one dared to come close.
For a split second, he felt his headache subside.
Forcing his gaze away, he walked off the stage and was ushered out the side door, where the rest of the graduates gathered in the large outdoor garden.
The excited chatters of his fellow classmates filled his ears as he settled on a bench far away from the central crowd, and briefly stared down at the official certificate in his hands.
He still needed to make a choice about which branch to join, and had already received direct invitations from the Kidō Corps, the Onmitsukidō, and multiple Divisions in the Gotei 13, but nothing appealed to him.
He had no regard for the duties of a Shinigami, and despised the idea of being a nameless and faceless pawn in the hands of nobles.
His fellow peers needed six years to learn something he could master in six days, and it had been obvious from the start that no one could match him or even come close.
It was disappointing.
The only setback in his life was his physical health. Headaches were his constant companion over the years, and he lived with a dull ache in his chest for as long as he could remember— unable to be cured or even diagnosed by the doctors in Rukongai.
According to their examinations, he had absolutely no problems and was given a clean bill of health.
Yet his symptoms continued to worsen over the years, until one night, he had unwittingly fallen asleep for three days straight, and woke up to the other children in a state of panic thinking he had died.
It was the first time that he felt genuinely afraid for his life, and it wasn’t until he heard the matron of the shrine muttering about old symptoms, that he was finally able to get some answers.
“There is someone you should seek,” Miya said quietly, suddenly looking aged and tired.
Sōsuke remained quiet, waiting for the older woman to continue.
“When you were sick as a baby, a young woman came by the shrine and managed to help you,” she revealed, eyes hazy as if lost in memory. “Now that your old illness has relapsed, you should try to find her again.”
“Who was she?” He asked calmly.
Miya looked regretful. “I don’t know. It’s been over twenty years and I sometimes think that she was just a figment of my imagination.”
He frowned slightly. “Then where do I search?”
“Seireitei perhaps,” she answered softly. “All who are skilled enough will eventually end up there. And if you can’t find her, I heard there is an entire Division of the Gotei 13 dedicated to healing.”
Living in the 2nd District, Sōsuke had seen plenty of Shinigami come and go, passing through Anjo for whatever mission or task. He found them uninspiring and never thought to become one.
However, if he wanted to walk into Seireitei as a commoner, he had to enter as a Shinigami.
“What did she look like?” He asked.
“All I remember is her bright orange hair,” Miya said with a sigh.
Sōsuke felt his lips twist in displeasure. Orange wasn’t a common colour, but it wasn’t one of a kind either.
Perhaps he should have been thankful that it wasn’t brown like his own, or black.
He was pulled away from his memories as the garden suddenly crowded with people, and Sōsuke glanced around to see a throng of families reunite with their graduates, sharing joy and laughter.
He slowly got up, deciding to return to the dormitory and pack his things, when he caught a wisp of orange from the corner of his eyes.
His head snapped to the side, gaze falling on the figures of two people as they entered the garden. It was as if an invisible force surrounded them, and the crowd parted like water in whichever direction they walked.
One was a tall man with a white scarf around his shoulders. The streaks of grey in his long black hair marked his older age, but there was a distinct aura of nobility about him.
Beside him was a young woman, only a half-head shorter, with long orange hair that gleamed under the light of the sunset.
Over both of their black Shinigami uniforms, was a white robe— a clear marking of their status as Gotei Captains.
It was obvious that most of the crowd had their attention on the man, with a few of the noble families even bowing respectfully as he passed, but Sōsuke’s eyes were locked onto the woman next to him.
It was perhaps the first time he could describe someone’s hair as truly orange. After developing a hypersensitivity to the colour, he had noted all sorts of warm blondes, peaches, and reddish-brown hues, but now realised that Miya’s description hadn’t been vague at all.
He watched the two Captains walk towards the large foundation near the centre of the garden, and through the mass of people, a boy came running up in excitement.
The woman’s face bloomed, and she enthusiastically scooped the boy up in a hug, spinning them around in a truly intimate display of affection.
Even from far away, Sōsuke was able to recognise the boy as Kuchiki Sōjun, heir to one of the Five Great Noble Families, and apart from himself, someone who was constantly at the centre of attention within the Academy thanks to his elite status and friendly demeanour.
He felt a frown settle between his brows as he watched the three interact. Even though he didn’t care for the Kuchiki heir before, he suddenly found the boy irritating to look at.
Was the orange-haired woman his mother? His sister? Or simply a relative?
It was the first time Sōsuke wished he had paid more attention to the rumours that circulated through the Academy.
He was certain that the older man was Kuchiki Ginrei, knowing well enough that Sōjun’s father was the Head of the clan, as well as the Captain of the Sixth Division, but he knew nothing of the other Captain.
At the end of every school year, each of the thirteen squads would mark themselves for availability, allowing graduates to see which divisions were open and send in applications.
This year, the Third, Fifth, and Eighth Division opted out of the list, and all the information pertaining to their squads, including the Captains, were left out as well.
Sōsuke felt his stomach twist with curiosity, knowing she must have belonged to one of those three, and a small part of him wanted to march right up to the woman and demand to know who she was.
He watched as the Kuchiki father and son exchanged a few more words before the group walked towards the main exit, clearly intent on leaving the crowded garden.
As their backs turned to him, Sōsuke was thrilled to see that the Gotei division symbol was written across their Captain’s robes, and just as he expected, Kuchiki Ginrei was marked with the number six.
Across the woman’s back, underneath the long strands of her orange hair, was the symbol for the Fifth Division.
Suddenly all the questions that had swirled inside of his mind came to an abrupt stop, and he realised that his next big decision had already been made.
It didn’t matter that he knew nothing about her, or that the Fifth Division was technically closed off to new applicants.
Whatever he had to do, whoever he had to manipulate—
Sōsuke would join her squad, and find out.
Notes:
Aizen is a hard character to write even from Ichigo's POV, so I hope I can do baby Sōsuke justice! Poor boy is obsessed and doesn't even know it yet 😏 and Ichigo's in for it now.
It is now (approximately) the year 1550, and we'll stick here for a few chapters and flesh out the situation now that the main characters are here— but also, welcome Shinji! He and baby Sōsuke are %100 gonna be duking it out behind Ichigo's back 😂 hehe
Chapter 11
Notes:
Hello I'm back! Sorry for the delayed update, I caught the flu and was out for a whole week, then got super busy with work, travel, and holiday celebrations.
Regardless, thank you for all the kudos! Also, y'all crack me up in the comments 😂 it was such a big motivation to read them when I got sick 🤍 Hope you enjoy the chapter!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
It was late into the night by the time Ichigo made it back to the Fifth Division, and instead of retiring into her personal quarters, she beelined towards her main office, finding the stack of documents Shinji had left behind.
The Shin’ō Academy report was conveniently placed right on top, and she flipped through the file, knowing that the noteworthy students would have additional records on their performance.
She found Aizen on the last page and quickly scanned through the contents, finding comments from all his instructors as well as all the scores from his initial proficiency test up to his final exams.
Just as she expected, he graduated with top marks across every class, and there was nothing but praise for his performance. It was obvious that Aizen had sailed through the Shinigami curriculum with ease, but she was more interested in why.
Realising that she wouldn’t get the answers from his graduate report, Ichigo threw the papers aside and settled into jinzen, knowing she had someone to dispute with.
She opened her eyes to her inner world, finding Aizen sitting across from her, resting peacefully with his chin on his hand.
Ichigo didn’t waste any time in confronting him. “Why did you lie to me?”
He raised his head, looking unsurprised by her sudden appearance.
“Lie?” he parroted, a hint of amusement in his tone. “I’m a deceiver, Ichigo, not a liar.”
She shot him an exasperated scowl. “That’s the same thing!”
“Hardly,” he scoffed. “I was just as surprised to see my younger self there as you were.”
Ichigo crossed her arms and stood menacingly in front of him. “You said you were over a hundred years old when you joined the Academy.”
“Yes, and I graduated in six years, not one,” he added, looking thoughtful.
She blinked in surprise. “Why did it take you so long when you obviously could have graduated earlier?”
Aizen smiled pleasantly. “I’m flattered you think so highly of me.”
She gave him a flat look. “That wasn’t a compliment.”
He laughed shortly. “You would be correct. I severely limited my pace so that I could blend into the averageness of my peers.”
“So that you could scheme and make plans without anyone the wiser, more like,” she finished blandly.
“I had already decided on the character I wanted to portray,” he said nonchalantly. “So there was no reason for me to attract unwanted attention by revealing my genius.”
“Then why the hell is your younger self blitzing through the Academy a hundred years before your time?” She demanded.
“That, I don’t know,” he answered bluntly. “I truly had no desire to enter Seireitei, much less become a shinigami at that age.”
Ichigo quieted, momentarily wondering if their soul bond had subconsciously affected his upbringing, but unless she asked the child directly, there would be no way of knowing.
She learned that their current bond only went one-way, due to how she had anchored Aizen’s soul to herself. Although she could manifest and visualise the thread between them, until the soul of his future-self— the piece she had connected to— returned to his body, the boy wouldn’t be able to do the same.
That said, he was still born with an incomplete soul, and Ichigo wasn’t sure if the effects on his spiritual body would worsen or improve over time.
Aizen had already been enough of a ruthless scientist, if he had a sense of personal urgency added to that, she couldn’t imagine the consequences.
“I swear, if I see your kid self running around, concocting evil plans for immortality or world domination— we will have words,” she said warningly.
He smirked, seemingly unaffected by her threat. “Such measures won’t come to pass any time soon, if at all. Things have already changed far beyond our original timeline.”
“That doesn’t worry you?” She asked.
“Does it for you?” He countered.
“Of course!” She raised her hands, flailing them in exasperation. “What if— I don’t know, something worse happens this time around?”
He looked unconcerned. “Then I have no doubt that you’ll be able to handle it.”
Ichigo paused, unexpectedly touched by the remark.
“Besides, I suspect that his motive for joining the Gotei is vastly different from mine,” he added. “The wheels of fate have already turned in a new direction.”
“I suppose you’re right,” she mumbled with a nod, feeling rather hopeful. “Since he’s still young, maybe he can learn to get along with others and grow up differently than you.”
“That will remain impossible,” Aizen rejected immediately.
“Why?” She asked, frowning at his pessimistic attitude.
“Based on his academic record, I can see that my younger self hasn’t learned the art of restraint yet,” he said, softly shaking his head. “Assimilating to the low level of my peers was something that took me decades to fully achieve.”
“What does that have to do with making friends?” She asked, crossing her arms.
Aizen stared intently at her. “Interpersonal relationships can only be forged between equals. Only then, can there be mutual understanding and genuine friendship.”
“For a man who had no friends, you sure have some strong opinions about them,” she muttered.
“I had plenty of friends,” he shrugged lightly, unbothered by her remark. “Or perhaps I should clarify— I allowed people to consider themselves as my friends.”
“So maybe it’s a good thing that your younger self hasn’t learned how to put up a whole fake persona yet,” she countered.
“The facade matters very little,” he said tonelessly, his expression solemn. “Ultimately, he will realise that there is an insurmountable gap between himself and the others, and that the admiration of his peers is the furthest thing from understanding.”
Ichigo held back her reply, feeling a sudden sense of sorrow wash over her.
She had forgotten the essence of Aizen’s existence was his immeasurable loneliness, unable to find anyone to match his intellect or power.
She wondered how much of his personality was influenced by his twisted self-perception, and if she had a chance to do anything about it for his younger self.
“Besides,” Aizen added smoothly, returning to his usual smug countenance. “There is great ugliness and jealousy in the hearts of mortals who dwell with gods.”
Ichigo sighed, suddenly feeling exhausted. “You would think that after forty years I’d get used to your ego, but I must say— you are still such a megalomaniac.”
Aizen smirked knowingly. “Says the person who reiatsu-crushed her entire division on day one.”
She felt her cheeks redden. “That’s not the same!”
“And you learned that from who?” he asked, leaning back into the bench in a haughty posture.
She choked, unable to refute him.
It wasn’t as if Ichigo had actively asked for his advice while training, but he had freely given his opinion over the years, and she had begrudgingly found them extremely helpful.
She would never say it out loud, unwilling to feed into his outrageous ego, but Aizen was a far better teacher than Urahara ever was.
Ichigo turned away in retreat, realising the conversation was lost.
“I’m going to bed,” she mumbled, rubbing her head. “We’ll talk about your younger self another day.”
Aizen’s soft chuckle echoed in her ears as her inner world began dissolving away.
“Sleep well, Ichigo.”
An uneventful week passed and Ichigo found herself forgetting about the whole ordeal.
She had paperwork to fill out, division members to manage, and legislation to pass under the stingy old nobles of the Central 46.
Aizen’s matter didn’t cross her mind again until Shinji stopped by her office.
“Taichō, are we really not getting any new recruits this year?”
Ichigo tapped a stack of papers on her desk and set them aside, before glancing at the teen.
“Why? Are you looking for more work?” She asked.
He stammered and quickly backed up towards the door. “N-Not at all! I was just wondering if I needed to set up a new training regimen for any recent graduates.”
Ichigo smiled at his thoughtfulness. “No need. I marked our division off the list, so we’re not expecting anyone new this time.”
Shinji looked relieved. “That’s good. How long will we remain closed to applicants?”
Before she could answer, a firm knock rapped against her door, and Ichigo glanced up, sensing a familiar presence behind the sliding screen.
“Come in,” she called.
An older man stood under the open doorway, with a formal black robe draped over his white kosode— the uniform of a Shin’ō Academy Instructor. Even though it had been some time since they last met, Ichigo was still able to recognize her old Kidō teacher.
“Sasaki-sensei?” She got up to properly greet him. “What a pleasant surprise.”
“Oh, please, Kurosaki-taichō, I haven’t been your teacher in many years,” he said gruffly, waving for her to sit. “Don’t embarrass this old man.”
Not minding his attitude, Ichigo pulled up an extra chair for him and gestured to Shinji.
“This is Hirako Shinji, my Third Seat,” she introduced. “He recently transferred to my division from the Eighth.”
Shinji bowed respectfully as Sasaki nodded at the blonde. “Ah, of course, I remember you. Top student of the accelerated class almost forty years ago.”
“It’s good to see you again, Sasaki-sensei,” Shinji nodded.
“What brings you here?” Ichigo asked, returning to her own seat.
Reaching into his robes, Sasaki pulled out a thin stack of papers and placed it on her desk between them. Ichigo glanced down, realising that it was a detailed graduate report.
“I saw that you closed off your division again this year,” he said bluntly. “But I wanted to see if you would consider accepting one of our new graduates anyway.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw Shinji stiffen, and Ichigo realised that he probably shouldn’t be in the room during such a conversation.
“Shinji, go take an early break,” she dismissed, sending him off with a wave of her hand. “I know you haven’t eaten lunch yet.”
It was clear that he wanted to stay and listen in, but didn’t dare to outright disobey her.
He pouted, shoulders slumping in disappointment. “Yes, taichō.”
The moment the door shut behind him, Ichigo glanced across the desk at the older man and pursed her lips.
“It must be someone special if you’ve come all the way here yourself,” she said evenly, refusing to look at the report just yet.
Sasaki leaned forward, his eyes wide with intensity. “It’s none other than our youngest child prodigy, Aizen Sōsuke.”
Ichigo didn’t react, but inwardly she fought off a sigh.
Of course it was.
“Why come to my division?” She asked with genuine curiosity. “There’s plenty of other squads who would eagerly take him in.”
He cleared his throat nervously. “Ah, that’s— well— the boy must have heard good rumours about your division. He’s very interested in joining the Fifth.”
Ichigo raised her brow, suspicious of his obvious blunder to cover something up, but she decided to give him grace.
“Uh-huh,” she drawled. “Anything else?”
Sasaki appeared eager. “Kurosaki-taichō, I don’t think you understand how talented this child is. In all my years of teaching Kidō, he has the greatest potential I have ever seen!”
“Sounds like the Kidō Corps could use his talents then,” she remarked dryly.
“The boy has already achieved shikai,” he added, leaning closer. “In another ten years, he could very well be your lieutenant!”
Ichigo paused, feeling a sudden sense of concern as she stared at Sasaki.
“You’ve seen his shikai?” She asked carefully.
“Of course!” He asserted loudly, looking like a proud father. “Young Sōsuke has a magnificent water-type zanpakutō that uses reflections to confuse his enemies— you must see it for yourself, really, a description cannot do it justice.”
She grimaced, wanting to smack the older man upside the head, but she knew he was dealing with a far more devious child than he could have ever imagined.
“I see that you think highly of him, and I agree that his talent is noteworthy,” she said, holding back a deep sigh. “But let’s not speak under any… illusions. Why the Fifth Division?”
Even as a kid, Ichigo wouldn’t doubt that Aizen had pulled some strings, but she couldn’t understand his current motives. Technically, he shouldn’t even know who she was.
Sasaki seemed to deflate, looking off to the side as a flicker of reluctance passed through his eyes. “I don’t mean to deceive you, but I promised the boy that I would keep his secrets.”
She narrowed her eyes, feeling even more suspicious than before. “Then I will promise you that whatever you say will stay between us.”
“That…” he trailed off, contemplating his next words. “Will you agree to accept him if I tell you?”
“That depends on what you say,” she said bluntly.
Sasaki let out a helpless laugh. “I miss the days when you were just a Lieutenant. I see being a Captain has given you a sharper edge.”
Ichigo smiled, but didn’t respond, allowing him to continue speaking.
“I was very moved by the boy’s confession,” he began, raising a hand to his chest. “He said that he was saved by a passing shinigami in Rukongai many years ago, and recently learned that the person who saved him was you , Kurosaki-taichō. He joined the Academy because he wanted to serve in your division, and repay the debt for his life.”
Sasaki slowly shook his head with his eyes closed, as if lost in the memories of such a touching testimony, and Ichigo stared at him incredulously.
Even if Miya had a perfect memory, she didn’t know Ichigo’s name or profession as a shinigami, and the same limited knowledge would have been passed down to Aizen.
It shouldn’t have been possible for him to make such a connection after all these years.
“…I don’t think that was me,” she muttered at last.
Sasaki let out a resigned sigh. “Of course, he said that you wouldn’t remember him, and that’s why he begged me not to tell you. The poor boy didn’t want to embarrass you.”
Ichigo felt her eye twitch, and she frowned at the man. “Did he mention exactly what I saved him from?”
“I didn’t ask for such details, but how many times have you led hollow extermination missions into Rukongai over the last twenty years?” Sasaki pointed out, looking baffled by her inquiry. “He said he remembered seeing your orange hair and white haori that day— who else could it have been?”
Ichigo blinked, realising what was happening. “He saw me as a Captain?”
“Your hair alone is quite distinct,” Sasaki pointed out. “I don’t believe the boy could have mistaken you for anyone else.”
The story made logical sense, but Ichigo knew such a situation was impossible.
While it was true that she undertook missions into Rukongai, they were mostly in the deeper districts though a Senkaimon, meaning she never once travelled through Anjo again after visiting the first time.
She was also certain that if Aizen had truly gotten within a hundred yards of her in such a setting, she would have sensed his presence.
It was obvious that the story was embellished and purposely left vague for Sasaki’s own mind to fill in the gaps, which had pulled on his heart strings to gain sympathy and support.
“I see,” she finally said.
Sasaki looked dissatisfied by her reaction. “Kurosaki-taichō, the boy’s loyalty to you is already strong. He received direct invites from multiple squads including the Kidō Corps and the Onmitsukidō, but he’s rejected them all because he said he only wants to serve beside you.”
Ichigo let his words fall into one ear and out the other, distracted by the magnitude of Aizen’s machinations over the older man. He might have only spent a year at the Academy, but it was clear that he was playing with Sasaki like a puppet in the palm of his hands.
She had originally planned to let things play out and watch from afar, not wanting to meddle in his life too much. Now however, she wasn’t sure if she could allow any of the other squads to take responsibility for him in good conscience.
Ichigo returned her attention to the packet of papers on her desk and flipped the title page aside, noting the Gotei Division application form already filled out and ready to go.
“Very well, I’ll take him,” she said seriously, briefly flipping through the rest of his report. “Since you’ve come all this way, I can’t exactly refuse, can I?”
Sasaki stroked his beard, looking extraordinarily pleased as he got to his feet. “Excellent, excellent! You won’t regret it, Kurosaki-taichō, the boy’s a natural genius!”
Ichigo also stood up, stacking the papers and setting them aside. “I’ll get his application processed over the next week. I hope you can relay the news and have him report to my office on the first of next month.”
“Of course!” The man agreed happily, rubbing his hands together. “It would be my honour to do so!”
After exchanging a few more words, Sasaki left her office with a light skip in his step, likely under the impression that he had done a poor boy a noble favour.
Ichigo sighed quietly, then glanced at a subtle mirage in the hall.
“Shinji, quit hiding.”
There was a beat of silence before the obscuring Kidō broke, and the blonde teen poked his head around the open door frame, a hesitant look in his face.
“T-Taichō…”
She crossed her arms. “Eavesdropping, are you?”
Her office was surrounded by a special sound proofing bakudō, so he probably didn’t hear a thing anyway, but Ichigo wasn’t one to ignore bad behaviour.
Shinji raised a plate of food towards her with a wide, innocent grin. “Lunch?”
Ichigo dropped her arms and huffed. “Hand it over.”
He happily came forward, and gently lowered the plate onto a clean section of her desk.
“So… should I draft up a newcomer training regimen after all?” He asked slowly.
Ichigo sat back down and stretched her neck, feeling a sudden headache build.
“No,” she said, seeing his eyes light up before she clarified, “I don’t think our newest member will need it.”
His smile faltered. “Someone is joining?”
She sent him a long look, wondering if Shinji and Aizen had some sort of secret thread of fate that always made them part of the same division. It was almost poetic irony that they could never get away from each other.
“Have you ever met Aizen Sōsuke?”
“No,” he replied curtly, looking displeased. “And I’d be perfectly fine with never meeting him.”
Ichigo cracked a smile and lifted up his application form.
“Too late.”
Ever since he was young, Shinji enjoyed people-watching.
There wasn’t much to do in the village he had grown up in, so he had gotten into the habit of observing the folks around him.
Over the years, he had learned to pick up on unique idiosyncrasies, and could guess a person’s past, personality, and even their relationships by analysing the way they interacted with others.
In the 64th district of East Rukongai, the habit had saved his life more than a few times.
He was adept at separating the good folks from the bad even at first glance, and could sense if someone was being genuine with him.
Captain Kyōraku for instance, was a sly character under the cover of a mellow man. He wasn’t dishonest or malevolent by any means, but Shinji had no doubt that he was capable of stabbing someone in the back.
Captain Kurosaki on the other hand, was the type to stab you from the front, and by that point, she would have made it very clear that she was going to do so. With her straightforward personality and no-nonsense demeanour, Shinji found it easy to let his guard down around her.
Aizen Sōsuke however, was a different case entirely.
Shinji didn’t know what exactly it was about the kid that ticked his senses, but there was no doubt that there was something off about him.
Yet there he was, sitting in Captain Kurosaki’s office with his feet dangling off a chair too big for him, and his large brown eyes staring intently at her face. The whole picture of him felt deceptively childlike.
“—have any questions about your duties, you can always refer to Shinji,” she suddenly mentioned, gesturing to him.
The boy didn’t even glance at him.
From the moment he stepped inside the office, it was as if all his attention was seized by Captain Kurosaki’s mere presence, and his gaze never left her.
“The rest of your paperwork has already been sorted out, and you’ve been assigned to Barrack 4 under Fushimi Asato,” Kurosaki continued, briefly glancing down to read his information. “If you have matters regarding your living arrangements or salary, you can refer to him.”
The boy nodded, silent and focused.
“Lastly, Ranking Trials happen at the end of every month,” she explained. “Since you’re starting in an unseated position, you’ll be able to enter the 20th Seat matchups if you’d like. There’ll be more information about this on our bulletin.”
Shinji crossed his arms and frowned, trying to predict the kid’s trajectory.
Ranking Trials were unique to the Fifth Division, and were devised by Captain Kurosaki when she first took over the squad. At the end of every month, all junior seated positions from the 11th to the 20th went up for grabs. Those already seated had to be ready to defend their ranks, and the challenge was open to every officer in the division.
The main rule was that an officer could only move up one rank at a time, meaning that a 20th officer could only attempt a trial for the 19th seat.
It was a method to keep everyone diligent in their training and growth, and Shinji suspected it was also why the death toll of the Fifth Division hit a new low over the past twenty years.
If this child prodigy was good enough to climb the ranks at the end of every month, he’d jump ten seats in a little less than a year. Such a fast pace would be unprecedented, but Shinji couldn’t accurately gauge the boy’s strength just yet.
Thankfully, the senior officers in the 3rd to the 10th seat had separate evaluations that took place directly under Captain Kurosaki’s discretion and watch, so he had no concerns over his own title.
At least, for now.
“Do you have any questions?” She asked, stacking all the paperwork to the side and clearing her desk.
Most people, even if they had questions, would keep it to themselves and ask another squad member instead. It was the simple act of respecting the Captain’s time.
Aizen Sōsuke however, was unlike most people.
“Kurosaki-taichō, have you ever been to Anjo?”
Shinji froze, wanting to throw something at the kid. It wasn’t even a work related question but a personal one? Did he have no social etiquette?
“Of course,” she answered kindly. “I’ve been to almost every district in Rukongai.”
“Do you remember meeting a woman named Miya?” He asked again.
Kurosaki frowned slightly, and for a brief second, her expression became unreadable.
“I’m afraid I don’t often exchange names with people while passing by,” she replied, looking apologetically at him in return. “Are you searching for someone?”
The boy lowered his gaze, and a small smile appeared on his lips.
“No,” he said resolutely. “Not anymore.”
Whatever that meant, Shinji had no idea, but he didn’t like the sudden atmosphere between them, and got up from his desk.
“Taichō, I’ll take over from here, you’re gonna be late for your next meeting,” he interjected, raising his hand.
There was still an hour until the designated time, but thankfully she didn’t point out his impatience.
“Alright, you little nag, I’m going,” she sighed, getting up to her seat. “Get this one settled in and make sure Nagayama and Hayashi complete their missions report by end of day. Hollow sightings like the ones they saw need to get sent to the Twelfth.”
“Yes, taichō,” he nodded, straightening his back.
“As for you,” she stopped beside the boy and gave him a wry smile. “Don’t cause trouble and you’ll do just fine. Welcome to the Fifth Division.”
With that, she twisted on her heel and left the office, disappearing in a shunpo step so fast that he didn’t even see the direction she moved in.
Shinji refocused his attention, watching as Sōsuke slid off the chair, eyes lingering on the empty space Captain Kurosaki had just been. He looked so young all of a sudden, wide eyed and innocent, with the top of his head barely reaching Shinji’s chest.
A long sigh escaped his lips as he made his way out the open door and glanced back at the kid. “Are you gonna just stand there and gape? Let’s get going.”
Sōsuke’s childlike expression immediately vanished, and he stared up at him with a crooked smile.
Shinji froze, feeling a bolt of unease roll down his spine. It was stupid to even consider the kid a threat, but for a split second, he felt genuinely dangerous.
“What the hell you smirking about?” He demanded, feeling his nerves stand on edge.
“Nothing, Hirako-san,” he said politely, his voice even and pleasant.
Shinji didn’t believe him one bit. “Spit it out,” he dared.
Sōsuke’s smile widened, and he stepped out of the office, eyes bright with interest. “I can’t help but feel like I know you.”
“That so?” Shinji asked, curling his lip. “Better get used to it, cause you’ll be seeing me a whole lot more from now on.”
“Of course,” he said demurely.
Turning around, Shinji began padding down the hallway, determined to dump the boy in Asato’s hands as soon as possible.
Following behind him, Sōsuke began humming a soft tune, and Shinji felt a chill roll down his back.
He really didn’t like this kid.
Being a Shinigami was boring work.
It was both a comfort and a disappointment that his new peers were much like those in the Academy.
Plain, unremarkable, and weak.
After a few days of learning his new tasks and meeting the other division members, Sōsuke found himself once again alienated from the larger group.
Most people fell into two categories— those who outwardly treated him with contempt, unable to believe that he had graduated in a single year, and those who couldn’t look past his appearance, and were unwilling to consider him an equal.
Both groups had feeble hearts, deeply rooted in their insecurity, and Sōsuke had a stark realisation that he would be surrounded by such idiots for the rest of his life.
Thankfully, there was Kurosaki Ichigo.
Over the following week, he was able to gather plenty of new and interesting information about his Captain, ranging from her ties to the noble Shiba Clan, her general leadership style, and her history with the Thirteenth Division.
However, there was one thing that remained consistent throughout everyone’s narrative, which was her unparalleled strength. Even those who had never personally accompanied her on missions, respected her authority to a great degree.
Fushimi Asato, who led Sōsuke’s sub-unit in Barrack 4, went as far as to consider himself her most loyal devotee.
“You’re lucky to have joined us, Sōsuke,” he said passionately, clenching his fist. “Kurosaki-taichō is the best leader in the Gotei! She’s gracious, noble, and of course, incredibly powerful!”
“Is that so,” he muttered.
“Don’t listen to what the lesser nobles say about her,” Fushimi said vehemently. “They’re only trying to slander her reputation because their precious heirs didn’t make the cut.”
Having heard the rumours of her ruthless takeover of the Fifth Division, Sōsuke found himself intrigued.
“Were you here twenty years ago?” He asked slowly.
Fushimi suddenly glanced around as if checking for eavesdroppers then lowered his voice. “I’m not a noble, so I wouldn’t have been able to join the old Fifth Division even if I wanted to. I transferred here two years after that incident.”
Sōsuke blinked innocently. “What exactly happened?”
“That— well—” Fushimi stammered, before crouching down to whisper. “Don’t tell anyone I told you— it’s a sensitive topic for those who still remember.”
He nodded obediently.
“They say Kurosaki-taichō managed to subdue the entire division with her reiatsu alone,” Fushimi revealed quickly. “It was apparently so powerful that the neighbouring squads also felt the pressure, and the Onmitsukidō were alerted to the scene. She then stripped every officer of their rank and rebuilt the whole squad from the ground-up.”
Sōsuke felt his heartbeat quicken, finding himself utterly fascinated by the mental image, and lamented not having been there to experience it.
He wanted to see what a Captain-level shinigami felt like, knowing that when it came to spiritual power, it was something he had in spades.
“Is there anyone still here from that time?” He asked curiously.
“There’s about forty of them still around,” Fushimi revealed, nodding. “Over a hundred people quit after the initial incident, and throughout the years, a handful of nobles either transferred, retired, or died in action.”
Forty was a larger number than Sōsuke expected, but he figured that if they managed to survive and make it this far, they had earned their place through innate talent or hard work.
“Does Kurosaki-taichō ever oversee our training?” He asked offhandedly.
Fushimi huffed. “She used to when I first joined, but now that the division’s gotten bigger and she has more work to do, it’s left to the senior officers. These days, morning drills are usually led by Shinji.”
It was unsurprising, but still disappointing to hear.
As a newly joined unseated member, Sōsuke had no reason to cross paths with Captain Kurosaki, and he never saw her while completing his day to day tasks.
Even if he wanted to orchestrate an accidental meeting, he had no idea what her schedule looked like.
He had little doubt that she was the woman from Miya’s memory, even if he didn’t have any concrete evidence, besides the colour of her hair.
The moment he stepped into her office, something clicked inside of his soul, like a puzzle piece snapping into its rightful place, and Sōsuke had a fleeting thought that her existence would be a mystery that would intrigue him forever.
He wanted to know everything about her.
“Cheer up! Since our captain works hard, we also must do the same,” Fushimi said encouragingly. “Now come on, it’s almost your patrol time.”
Fighting off an annoyed sigh, Sōsuke straightened up and followed after the older man, his head filled with plans on how to steal some of Kurosaki Ichigo’s attention.
It was a shame. He had blatantly lied to Sasaki in order to get his foot in the door of the Fifth Division, and was expecting a call into her office to talk about his past. He had already prepared a slew of excuses for the lie, and was simply waiting for the opportunity.
After a week of silence, it was obvious that no such call would occur, and he had to think of a new approach.
However, when another two weeks went by, all his scheming ended up flying out the window.
“Aizen?”
Sōsuke nearly jumped out of his skin at the familiar voice, and swivelled around to see none other than his orange-haired Captain, approaching him with narrowed eyes.
“Kurosaki-taichō?” He stuttered, feeling his heart race at the sudden sight of her.
Of all the places he could have run into her outside of the Fifth Division, meeting in the Seireitei Research Library was the last place he would have thought to see her.
“Sorry, did I scare you?” She asked, stopping an arm’s length away.
Sōsuke had considered himself a great sensor, and was rarely surprised by anyone in his vicinity. If he focused hard enough, he could even sense the hidden Onmitsukidō members that were scattered around the division barracks.
Captain Kurosaki, however, was the only person he couldn’t sense at all, and it was one of the first things he noticed about her.
“I was just surprised,” he quickly shook his head. “What are you doing here, taichō?”
“Grabbing something for Hikifune,” she said casually, shifting her grip on a large box under one of her arms. “I’d normally ask the same question, but I’m a bit concerned about your answer.”
Sōsuke blinked back his unease, knowing that he wasn’t supposed to be here. The Seireitei Research Library was technically closed off to the general public, and he had most definitely sneaked past the paltry security.
She sighed softly, as if she had expected this of him. “Nevermind— are you settling in well?”
He nodded in reflex, but hesitated with his answer. He was still undecided on how to best appeal to her in conversation.
Should he act in cool confidence, and lean into his image of a young prodigy? Or should he try the emotional route, and emphasise his childish innocence?
“I’m very well,” he said sincerely, raising his gaze to meet hers. “Everyone has been welcoming, and I’ve gotten used to my new duties.”
It was a basic white lie, but she seemed to see right through him.
She tilted her head, as if trying to observe him better. “Are you bored?”
Sōsuke froze, not having expected such a straightforward question, and realised that the true state of his heart had been exposed.
“You can be honest with me,” she said earnestly. “Most adults don’t even come here in their free time.”
He glanced away, unsure of what to say for the first time in his life. He normally didn’t care about offending others, but was suddenly afraid of disappointing her.
He raised his head, wanting to clarify. “It’s not boredom— It’s just…”
“It's what?” She questioned, regarding him with a knowing gaze. “Is it the feeling of unfulfillment that comes with getting anything you want right away?”
Sōsuke stared back in disbelief. He had never heard his dilemma explained by someone else in such a clear way, and he wondered how much she understood.
“How did you know?” He whispered.
She smiled, and beckoned him closer. “Come with me.”
Captain Kurosaki turned on her heel and suddenly began walking away, and Sōsuke froze in surprise before quickly dumping the book in his hands onto a nearby table and following after her.
“Kurosaki-taichō, where are we going?” He asked hurriedly, trying to match her stride.
Walking beside her, it was then he realised just how tall she was, and Sōsuke felt a sudden sense of displeasure at his small stature.
“Since we both have some free time, I thought I’d take you with me to visit someone,” she said casually. “You may be a genius, but it’s good to give your brain a break once in a while.”
“Visit?” He parroted, feeling caught off guard. “Who are we meeting?”
They exited the building, and out of the corner of his eye, Sōsuke saw the library guard give Captain Kurosaki a respectful bow as they passed.
“I will be going to see Shihōin-taichō,” she pointed to herself, then glanced at him. “And you will be hanging out with his two kids in the meantime.”
His excitement immediately died, and he fought to keep his disappointment from showing.
Sōsuke could barely connect with adults, much less children his age, but this was the first opportunity to have close contact with his captain on a personal level.
Who knew when such a chance would come by again?
“Don’t judge too quickly,” she advised, clearly having sensed his dismay. “They’re a few years older than you, but I promise there will be no room for boredom when you meet them.”
Feeling a prickle of interest arise, he nodded. “Who are they?”
“You’ll be meeting Shihōin-taichō’s daughter, Yoruichi,” she said, lifting two fingers, “and his ward, Urahara Kisuke.”
He frowned, feeling a strange sensation fall over him.
Sōsuke genuinely didn’t recognize them, but hearing the latter’s name spoken out loud seemed to trigger an innate reaction within him.
It was the same sense of familiarity from when he first met Hirako Shinji.
Except this time, the feeling of mocking hostility was replaced by absolute loathing.
Whoever Urahara Kisuke was— Sōsuke hated him already.
Notes:
So I was inspired by an interesting reddit thread on what would happen if Aizen and Urahara grew up together/joined hands. Safe to say, the whole bleach-verse would be doomed if they did haha. Ichigo is over here thinking that she found baby Aizen the perfect playmate, when in reality, she accidently brought together an unstoppable force and an immovable object 🤣
Also, I wanted to quickly mention that I didn't forget about Ulquiorra and Ichigo's adventures Hueco Mundo! I just didn't have a good place to interject without pushing back the initial timeskip and taking away from the core story. He'll be back, I promise! Until then, the pool of kids that are dumped on Ichigo continues to grow LOL
Chapter 12
Notes:
I'm back! Honestly, I have no idea how I managed to update once a week before this, but my chapters are getting longer, and I'm taking a lot more time so I just wanted to say thank you for your patience! Although it sounds counter-intuitive, I decided to start a side story to this series, just to get out of my own head and help me through writers block while sorting out the main fic.
With all that said, hope you enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“So how’s your new kid?”
Ichigo sent the man sitting across from her a weary look. “Don’t say it like that— I’m his superior, not his mother.”
Shihōin Yahiko laughed. “I can’t even be jealous now? I sent Aizen Sōsuke two separate offers for the Second Division and the Onmitsukidō, and he rejected them both, you know.”
She smiled wistfully. “You already have Kisuke to deal with, and you’re telling me you’d want another child of his calibre?”
Yahiko raised a sharp brow. “You really believe that he’s on the same level? You know better than anyone just how smart Kisuke is.”
Ichigo didn’t argue. It was Aizen himself who said that the only person who had an intellect greater than his own was Urahara Kisuke. And since he was still young and impressionable, she knew this was an opportunity that she couldn’t let slip by.
“I think you'll be surprised,” she shrugged playfully. “The friendship might benefit them both.”
“I hope so,” Yahiko remarked, reaching under his desk to pull out a fresh bottle of saké. “He’s been quite sad ever since Tessai moved out, and he’s had no one to practise Kidō with.”
Ichigo still couldn’t believe that the shop associate who used to sweep the floors of Urahara’s store was once the Kidō Corps Commander. Granted, he had just joined the branch a few months ago as a faceless newcomer, but she knew that he was eventually going to make it to the top.
“Is he so busy that he can’t even visit?” She asked, surprised.
“You know how the Kidō Corps are,” Yahiko shrugged, taking a slow sip of his drink. “The rookies have the most to prove after they join, so I suspect he won’t be back for a year at least.”
“No wonder I didn’t see him the last time Yoruichi and Kisuke came by,” she muttered. “How is their training these days?”
“Good,” he nodded pleasantly. “I think I’ll be able to retire in the next century if Yoruichi keeps at her current pace, and Kisuke’s right behind her.”
“I heard he was interested in collaborating with the Twelfth on a personal project,” she recalled, thinking back on their last meeting.
Yahiko sighed tiredly. “He only wants to play with the gikon prototype that Hikifune made recently— I caught him trying to sneak away with a discarded gigai the other week.”
Ichigo chuckled at the mental image. “Maybe you should get him one for his birthday.”
Before he could respond, Ichigo sensed a familiar presence rustling behind her, and a small body slammed into her back.
“Ichigoooo!”
She quickly braced herself against the edge of the table as a pair of arms wrapped around her neck, and Yoruichi’s face appeared from behind her shoulder.
“What are you doing here?” Yahiko admonished, shooting his daughter a suspicious frown from across the desk.
Ignoring him, Yoruichi snaked around Ichigo’s body and sat on her lap, eyes wide with expectation.
“Let’s play tag!” She pleaded, bringing her hands together in an earnest gesture. “My shunpo is a lot faster now, I swear!”
Ichigo smiled softly, unable to refuse the girl outright. “Why aren’t you playing with Kisuke and Aizen?”
Yoruichi crossed her arms and pouted indignantly. Although she was older now, looking more like a twelve year old, her cheeks still puffed with baby fat.
“They’ve been playing shogi for the last hour!” She complained, throwing her hands into the air. “So boring!”
Ichigo raised her brows, and across the table, Yahiko glanced back with an expression of interest.
It seemed that they were in silent agreement.
“Alright then, let’s forget about the boys and play on our own,” Ichigo nodded, moving to get up.
Yoruichi shot up happily, bouncing off her lap and jumped towards the open door in excitement.
“I’ll give you a five second head start,” Ichigo raised her hand.
Yoruichi gaped in shock. “Only five?! But you gave me ten last time!”
Ichigo lowered one finger. “Four—”
Yoruichi immediately disappeared, flickering onto the rooftops, and Ichigo laughed at her hasty escape.
“Five seconds is cruel,” Yahiko remarked, unable to hold back his own grin.
Ichigo shrugged playfully. “A tired child is a happy child. I’ll be back in a bit.”
With that, Ichigo vanished into the air, chasing after the tail of Yoruichi’s reiatsu.
Still sitting at his desk, Shihōin Yahiko shook his head in amusement.
“My poor daughter,” he muttered.
Ichigo took her time playing with Yoruichi, knowing that catching the girl too quickly would sink all her confidence. She had to be careful to just barely miss tagging her on several attempts, and allow her to escape.
When an hour went by, Ichigo walked back into the Shihōin Manor with their one and only princess dangling off her arm like a sack of potatoes.
A very exhausted and sweaty sack of potatoes.
“Your shunpo really improved,” she praised. “Good game.”
Yoruichi grunted tiredly in response.
Sensing that Yahiko’s office was empty, Ichigo made her way towards the main living room where Kisuke and Aizen were.
As she expected, she spotted Yahiko sitting on a nearby couch reading through some reports while the two boys were seated at a low table, still engrossed in their shogi game.
Ichigo dropped Yoruichi off beside her father, and the girl flopped gracelessly onto the furniture, clearly too tired to move elsewhere, and Yahiko wordlessly passed her a cup of cold water.
She approached the low table and peered at the game layout, wondering how the two were doing. Although she was more experienced with western chess, she had played a few rounds of shogi with Enji and Ginrei over the years.
Between Aizen and Kisuke, there seemed to be a greater advantage on the latter’s side, which was unsurprising.
“I see you two are having fun,” she said.
They both jumped, startled by her sudden appearance after being entirely focused on the game, and a pair of grey and brown eyes looked up at her.
“You’re back!” Kisuke greeted cheerily, eyes bright as he glanced at Yoruichi sprawled on the couch behind them. “Did you play tag without me?”
“We can play next time,” she promised. “Are you enjoying the game?”
There was a flicker of something sharp in Kisuke’s gaze as he grinned. “Very much.”
The remark seemed genuine, and Ichigo turned her attention to Aizen. “And you?”
His eyes twitched ever so slightly as his gaze darted between her and Kisuke, before he too, nodded. “Urahara-san is… very skilled.”
Ichigo felt like applauding, wondering if this was the first time Aizen complimented someone and meant it, even if it was said begrudgingly.
“Well, I have to return to the division for some work, but you’re free to stay and finish the game,” she said encouragingly.
To her surprise, Aizen didn’t hesitate to refuse. “I’ll go back with you.”
“Eh?” Kisuke glanced up in disappointment. “You’re leaving?”
Aizen pushed himself to his feet, and crossed his arms with an annoyed huff. “The next time I’m here, I’ll win the game.”
Kisuke raised his brows and grinned. “That’s some big talk from someone who lost the first round.”
“That was practice!” Aizen hissed, hackles rising.
“I don’t know,” Kisuke drawled, clearly taunting the younger boy. “You looked pretty upset after losing.”
“Be nice, Kisuke,” Ichigo said sternly, reaching over to grab the top of his head.
“Ah, nee-san, not my hair!” He complained, quickly flattening the wayward strands with his hands. “I only wanted to tease a little! Aizen-san is so serious!”
She narrowed her eyes and leaned down, lowering her voice. “And I better not hear about you rummaging through the Twelfth Division's research facility again.”
Kisuke let out a nervous laugh. “O-Of course! I’ll be good!”
Ichigo didn’t trust him one bit, but figured he was smart enough not to put himself into any real danger. “We’re heading out first, then.”
After exchanging a few more words of farewell, Ichigo left the Shihōin Manor with Aizen on her heels, feeling as if the meeting had gone very well.
Although Aizen had claimed it would be impossible for his younger self to make friends, she hoped that he would be able to forge a positive relationship with Kisuke, or at the very least, a healthy rivalry.
“Don’t worry about staying behind next time,” she said reassuringly. “Shihōin-taichō said you’re more than welcome to visit, even if I’m not there.”
“I will consider it,” Aizen replied, looking lost in thought.
“Are they not interesting enough for you?” She asked teasingly.
He shrugged. “The game was fun, but I think Kurosaki-taichō is much more interesting.”
Ichigo stopped to glance at him in surprise at the same time Aizen froze mid-step with wide eyes, as if realising the implications of what he had just said.
That he would rather spend time with her instead.
“I-I mean—“ he stammered, shooting her a panicked look.
She felt herself smile, caught off guard by the unexpected comment, and stretched out her hand to ruffle his hair.
“I’m happy you think so,” she said sincerely. “My office is always open if you want to see me, so don’t be shy.”
Aizen lowered his head, clearly trying to hide his embarrassment. “Yes, Kurosaki-taichō.”
Noting that the tips of his ears were turning red, Ichigo pulled her hand away and continued walking down the wide road with a secret smile.
Cute.
Years ago, when Ichigo first took over the Fifth Division, she had set up Ranking Trials as a way to properly sort out everyone’s strengths, and promote those who were capable.
With so many shinigami to arrange and having no one to rely on, the matches had taken up nearly all her time for the first six months, and Ichigo had barely managed to keep the entire squad from collapsing.
After twenty years, most of the seated officers had settled into their positions, and Ichigo had stopped overseeing the trials in person. Even though all the junior seats from the 11th to the 20th were technically open to challengers, they rarely saw change on a month-to-month basis.
Only the 20th seat matchups saw active contestants, with at least five unseated members attempting the trial at the end of every month.
This time, it was Aizen’s turn to participate.
Ichigo had no doubt that he would pass, and was more concerned for his opponent if anything. There were strict rules against fighting with the intent to kill, and she could only hope that nothing went wrong.
Her plans for spectating the trial had gone down the drain the moment she received an urgent message early in the morning, and found herself summoned to an all-Captains meeting in the First Division Headquarters.
Annoyed, Ichigo could only rely on Shinji to oversee the matches as she left the division barracks.
By the time all the Gotei captains gathered in the council room, it was already midday.
“Hikifune-taichō, your report,” Yamamoto ordered, hitting his cane against the floor.
At the end of the row, Hikifune stepped out from her spot with a nod. “We finally discovered why an abnormal number of kūmon rifts were opening in Rukongai— my researchers found a peculiar item that functions much like hollow bait, scattered throughout the districts.”
Hikifune lifted her hand, holding up a silver stake, comparable in size to a pen.
“We don’t have any records of this in production, so I can only assume it was created avoiding official channels,” she remarked. “The normal hollow bait we use for training purposes is completely different in formulation and strength.”
“And the status of the affected districts?” Yamamoto questioned.
“All the offending bait has been removed,” she confirmed, “but the hollows that were initially attracted there still come and go. Based on the report from Kurosaki-taichō’s squad, it seems like some of these hollows are strange too.”
Ichigo was surprised to hear her own name suddenly interjected into the conversation, then remembered that she had two of her senior officers send a report to the Twelfth a month ago.
Yamamoto’s gaze drifted to her. “Explain.”
Ichigo cleared her throat. “Two of my men encountered a group of hollows last month in Hokuren. They mentioned that the hollows were unusually focused and levelheaded, with some displaying unique abilities.”
For beings that should have been driven mostly by instinct or hunger, it was definitely a strange case.
“Very well, I want these hollows taken care of as soon as possible,” Yamamoto ordered. “Hikifune-taichō, which districts are still in need of aid?”
Pulling out another report, Hikifune began reading through a list, calling out a total of eighteen districts, and Ichigo noted that two of them were under the jurisdiction of the Fifth Division.
“All squads that have affected districts, dispatch capable members to the site immediately,” Yamamoto commanded, before glancing to his right. “Shihōin-taichō, any information you find regarding the ones responsible for this illegal hollow bait— I trust that the Onmitsukidō will relay the news in a prompt manner.”
Yahiko lowered his chin respectfully. “Of course.”
With that, the meeting was adjourned, and all the captains filed out into the main lobby. A few were speaking to Hikifune, while another group stood off to the side in quiet discussion.
“Ichigo?”
She turned to see Kyōraku approaching from behind with a solemn expression, and she greeted him with concern. “Is something the matter?”
He put on an easy smile, but his gaze remained weary. “Jūshirō had a flare up just two nights ago, so I sent him back home to rest.”
Ichigo felt her heart ache, having assumed such when she saw her former captain missing from the meeting. “I noticed the Thirteenth had three districts called out today.”
Every division had a set number of Rukongai districts under their jurisdiction, as well as sections of the Living World. With the recent case, a few squads were lucky to have none of their districts affected, while others had up to three or four on their plate.
“I actually came to talk to you about that,” Kyōraku said politely. “Would you be willing to take one of Jūshirō’s districts while I take another? With Satoshi currently gone as well, I fear that one district will be all the Thirteenth can manage.”
“Of course,” Ichigo agreed promptly, understanding his intentions. “Why don’t I take Saitsuno, then? I’ll have to send a team to Uchiura, and the two aren’t far apart.”
Kyōraku smiled, seemingly relieved. “I'm glad I can always count on you, Ichigo-chan.”
“I guess I’ll always be a Lieutenant of the Thirteenth at heart,” she said, helplessly shaking her head.
“Are you doing well these days?” He asked, reverting to his usual teasing tone. “I hope Shinji isn’t being too much of a menace.”
Ichigo playfully knocked his shoulder. “Aren’t you supposed to be on his side?”
“I can’t have him disrespecting you and bringing shame upon my name,” Kyōraku chuckled. “Kid’s got a good head but his mouth tends to run.”
“He’s doing fine,” she reassured. “The division has been going through some changes and he’s been very helpful.”
Kyōraku gave her an inquisitive look. “I heard you also snatched up our latest child prodigy?”
Ichigo sighed inwardly. Who would believe her if she claimed that Aizen had orchestrated the entire thing himself?
“I couldn’t exactly reject him,” she admitted tiredly. “Speaking of, I need to get back and check on my squad.”
“Your ranking matches are today?” He recalled with a look of interest. “Well then, I won’t hold you back any longer.
After exchanging promises to visit, Ichigo split away from Kyōraku, and noticed Enji and Ginrei in talks with Hikifune from the corner of her eyes.
She figured their conversation was serious, and feeling reluctant to interrupt, gave them a silent nod of greeting as she passed.
By the time Ichigo made it back to the Fifth Division, the sun was beginning to set, and she knew that the matches were long over.
She stepped towards her office, sensing two familiar individuals already inside, and she quietly slid the door open.
“—the hell did you just say?! You lookin’ for a fight?”
Ichigo paused under the doorway as she spotted Shinji and Aizen near her desk, caught in a physical altercation.
They both froze at her sudden appearance, and Shinji, who was grabbing a fistful of Aizen’s robes, promptly released the younger boy in surprise. “K-Kurosaki-taichō!”
She crossed her arms and sent both of them a stern look. “Oh? Surely you weren’t about to fight in my office?”
“Hirako-san most definitely threatened me,” Aizen said first, straightening out the creases in his shihakushō.
“What!?” The blonde hissed, shooting Aizen a scathing glare. “You liar! Obviously I was just speaking facetiously!”
“How can a third seat such as yourself attempt to abuse your authority like this?” Aizen raised his brows, undeterred.
Shinji pointed an accusatory finger at him. “You’re the one who threatened me first! Telling me to enjoy the third seat while I still have it— what the hell is that supposed to mean, huh?!”
Aizen blinked innocently. “I was just being facetious.”
“You little—“
“Stop that,” Ichigo said firmly, walking towards her desk with a frown. “Seriously, you two fight like an old married couple.”
The comment seemed to trigger them both, and Shinji flushed red while Aizen looked thoroughly scandalised.
“Taichō!” They protested in unison, before giving each other a glare.
Ever since Ichigo had given Aizen permission to visit her office, he had taken the invitation quite seriously, and stopped by almost every day— much to Shinji’s indignation.
Shinji had his own room to work in with the other senior staff, but he too, started loitering around her office like a territorial cat, causing sparks of tension to fly every time the two met.
Ichigo didn’t mind the visits at all, knowing that she would much rather have Aizen within her sight rather than out of it.
She dropped into her seat with a tired sigh. “Alright, no more of this— it’s been a long day. I assume there are no major incidents to report from the trials?”
Shinji dutifully shook his head, and dropped a few files on her desk. “These are all the members who advanced today. No one sustained severe injuries, and matches concluded without trouble.”
Ichigo flipped through the files and found Aizen’s at the bottom, with the official stamp of the 20th seat on his record.
She glanced up to see him staring eagerly at her, as if waiting for a word of praise.
“I see congratulations are in order,” she said, amused by his expression. “You did well, Aizen.”
He preened in response. “It was nothing.”
Ichigo had no doubt that it was indeed, nothing, especially at his current level.
“Would you be interested in joining some of the senior officers on a hollow subjugation mission this week?” She asked, knowing that the longer she left him to be bored, the more dangerous it would be.
He blinked in surprise before regarding her. “Will you be leading the unit, Kurosaki-taichō?”
“Not this time,” she shook her head. “I have more pressing matters here.”
Before Aizen could reply, Shinji huffed loudly in the corner. “He’s gonna get killed out there, especially if these hollows are the same ones Nagayama and Hayashi saw.”
Aizen curled his lip, and shot the blonde a dark look. “I can handle it.”
“I didn’t know you were so eager to die,” Shinji mocked, crossing his arms. “With you there, the unit will only be as strong as its weakest link.”
“Perhaps you should be careful then, not to drag me down with you,” Aizen retorted coldly.
Shinji snarled. “Watch yourself, Sōsuke—“
“Enough,” Ichigo interrupted with a scowl, feeling her patience run thin. “Get out of my hair— both of you. We’ll reconvene this conversation tomorrow so rest early and make sure your duties are sorted out.”
She shooed them with her hand, and the two retreated without further argument, sensing her serious tone.
“T-Then, have a good night, taichō,” Shinji lowered his head, evidently abashed by his outburst.
Aizen, clearly having no sense of shame, put on an innocent smile and managed to get the last word in. “Sleep well, Kurosaki-taichō.”
With that, the door slid shut behind them, and Ichigo sighed into her hands, feeling her shoulders grow heavy.
She suddenly felt great sympathy for all the parents that she knew, and muttered to herself in realisation.
“No wonder dad tried to kill me everyday.”
Early next morning, Ichigo was going through the week’s reports when Shinji stopped by her office.
“Kurosaki-taichō?” he greeted hesitantly.
She looked up from her paperwork, surprised to see him. Usually at this time, he would be preparing to lead morning drills. “What’s the matter?”
He stared resolutely at his feet, as if unable to meet her eyes. “I’m sorry about yesterday. I’ll be more mature from now on, I promise.”
Ichigo smiled softly. “It’s okay. You’re still young too, and there’s no need to be so serious between squad members. I just want to make sure the bickering never turns into genuine hostility.”
He huffed, looking relieved. “I don’t hate Sōsuke, he just annoys the hell out of me, and creeps me out at the same time.”
She fought back a knowing laugh. “What are you worried about? You have your own merit, and I’m not going to replace you, no matter how many geniuses join the division.”
Shinji blushed, briefly taken aback. “R-Really?”
“Yes, you fool,” she said firmly, raising her brows as if daring him to question her. “Any more questions?”
He quickly shook his head.
“Good,” she nodded, turning back to her papers. “Now that we’re at a consensus, I wanted to confirm your observations from the matches yesterday— was Aizen’s performance truly a cause for concern?”
Shinji released a defeated sigh. “No… I was just saying that to provoke him. He already has shikai, so I’m sure he’s more than capable of joining.”
Ichigo froze, staring blankly at the deployment list before slowly looking up. “Aizen released his shikai yesterday?”
The blonde shrugged. “He did, but to be honest, I couldn’t tell if it did anything. There was some mist, and his opponent just stood there kinda stupidly, but that’s all.”
“How many people were spectating the trials?” She asked carefully.
“I think almost the entire division was there,” Shinji said with a short laugh. “Everyone wanted to see if the kid could live up to his reputation.”
Ichigo felt dread creep up her spine, but she knew it was too late to do anything about it now. It was bound to happen eventually, and she could only hope that Aizen didn’t resort to anything extreme.
“Well,” she muttered, trying to maintain her composure. “I’m sad to have missed it.”
She quickly crossed out Aizen’s name, which was currently listed under Shinji’s unit, and decided to move him to another team. With their prickly relationship, there was no way she was going to take the chance.
“I’m sure he’ll join the 19th seat matchups next month, so you can see it then,” Shinji said, looking wholly unconcerned about the situation.
How could he know?
How could any of the spectators know that they had just placed themselves under perfect hypnosis for the rest of their lives?
“Right then, I won’t take any more of your time, I know you have morning drills to run,” she said, giving him a small smile. “Report to my office after training is done, and bring Nagayama and Hayashi with you.”
Shinji bowed respectfully before leaving. “Yes, taichō.”
Ichigo slowly leaned back into her seat as the office plunged into silence once more, and she stared at the ceiling with an empty gaze.
Why did he do it?
It was obvious that Aizen had acted deliberately, releasing his shikai to the largest crowd when she knew he could have won the match with Kidō alone.
She didn’t think he already had plans for betraying Soul Society or carrying out secret experiments— as smart as he was, such an ambition was too far-fetched for his current age.
Before she could deliberate any further, there was a sudden shift and the world tilted sideways, her consciousness was pulled from one space to another, and Ichigo found herself forcibly dragged into her inner world.
She fell out of her chair, only to drop shoulder-first against a large glass window, and she clutched the side of her head with a disorientated groan.
“Aizen!” She hissed, feeling her stomach twist with nausea. “I told you not to do that again!”
To his credit, Aizen rarely dragged her inside against her will, and this was only the second time he did so after discovering the ability through their soul-tie.
“You’re lucky I didn’t do it last week.”
She grunted. “What the hell happened last week?”
“You can’t recall?” He mocked. “I warned you, Ichigo, that if you involved Urahara Kisuke in our affairs, I would find a way to haunt you forever.”
Ichigo pushed herself to her feet and shot the man a glare. “They’re still kids. Maybe you should learn how to give Urahara another chance.”
“So I could experience his cowardice and wasted potential all over again?” He said scathingly.
“So that you don’t have to grow up lonely!” She yelled in exasperation. “You might be the one who hates Urahara the most, but don’t lie to yourself— he’s also the person you respect the most.”
Aizen took a long, controlled breath, before sighing quietly. “Ichigo, I am not lonely.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being lonely,” she said firmly, lowering her voice. “Why deprive yourself of an intellectual equal when it’s clear that no one else can fill that void?”
“Besides,” she added, crossing her arms, “I didn’t involve him in our affairs— only yours.”
Aizen was silent for a long moment before a sinister smile appeared across his face. “You seem confident that Urahara will be a positive influence on my younger self, but don’t forget— I could influence him in return.”
While the thought of two psychopathic geniuses working together was concerning, Ichigo felt somewhat reassured in herself.
“I’m still here, aren’t I?” She challenged, raising a brow at him.
He chuckled softly in response. “So you are.”
“Were you mad about that this whole week?” She asked, rubbing the lingering vertigo out of her eyes. “You could have just waited until I fell asleep.”
“No,” he said shortly. “All your ruminating was simply giving me a headache.”
“You pulling me here midday is giving me a headache,” she muttered, shooting him a half-hearted glare. “I was considering some serious matters about your younger self, you know.”
Aizen got up from his seat and stretched his hand out to the side, manifesting his zanpakutō in the blink of an eye.
She blinked in surprise. “You called me here to spar?”
He walked closer, stopping only to grab her hand and place it on the hilt of his sword, under his own.
“Allow me to tell you a secret about Kyōka Suigetsu,” he said with a sly smile. “Those who touch the blade before witnessing the shikai release will be immune to its effects.”
Ichigo stilled, staring down at both of their hands with disbelief. “…Are you serious?”
“Whether the immunity will follow you into the real world, I can’t confirm with absolute certainty, but there is something even better,” he said confidently, bringing his face closer.
Within their grasp, Aizen’s zanpakutō suddenly shattered into starlight, and his hand moved to grab hers, leaving no room for escape.
“When I fused with the Hōgyoku, I also merged with Kyōka Suigetsu,” he revealed. “Just looking at me is enough to put you under hypnosis now.”
A bolt of panic ran down her back as Ichigo instinctively took a step back, realising that was how he tricked Yhwach in the final battle.
Even with the Almighty, he was still fooled.
Aizen chuckled. “Don't fret, Ichigo, I never used it on you and I never will. You are my greatest creation after all.”
“So?” She asked, feeling her eyes twitch. “Are you saying that your mere presence here is enough to keep me immune, on the off chance your younger self releases his shikai in front of me?”
A dark look passed his eyes as he reached out with his free hand to capture a wayward strand of her hair. “Kyōka Suigetsu and I are currently linked to you. I dare that boy to try and use it against me.”
Ichigo faltered, not having expected such animosity— technically against himself. For a split second, the image of Shinji loitering around her office like a guard dog came to mind.
“I don't exactly want to put it to the test,” she said nervously, turning away from his gaze. “But I suppose I don’t have a choice.”
“Go then,” he said softly, releasing her hand. “You’ve been in here long enough.”
Her inner world began to dissolve away as Aizen spoke up once more. “But, Ichigo—“
She quickly looked up, catching the deep look in his eyes before he too, started to disappear.
“Make no mistake— the respect I have for Urahara Kisuke, is still second to the respect I have for you.”
It didn’t take long for Ichigo to deploy teams into Rukongai, and with Yamamoto’s urgent request already sent to the Kidō Corps, passage through the Senkaimon was made quickly available.
She sent the first group to Saitsuno, which was led by Shinji, as it was predicted to be the most difficult location of the three.
The second unit was led by her Fourth Seat, Nagayama. Being one of her more mature and level-headed senior officers, Ichigo decided to place Aizen under his leadership and sent the group off to Uchiura.
The last unit was managed by her Sixth Seat, Hayashi, who was sent back to Hokuren to clean up the remaining hollows that his team missed the first time.
Each squad consisted of ten members, with half being veteran combatants, while the other half were inexperienced officers who used the mission as a live training opportunity.
The mission itself was relatively straightforward, and if all went well, Ichigo expected to see them return within a week.
Three days later, while she was deep in paperwork, Unohana paid her a surprise visit.
Ichigo had felt her familiar reiatsu approaching the office, but she remained in disbelief until the door opened to reveal the Fourth Division Captain herself.
“Unohana-san?” She called with wide eyes.
As one of the original Gotei Captains, Unohana rarely left the Fourth, and she wasn’t one to make personal visits either.
“I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time,” the older woman said softly.
“Of course not!” Ichigo reassured, waving her hands. “You should have called me to the Fourth, I know your time is far more limited than my own.”
Unohana sat down across from her. “It’s no matter. Our barracks are close, and I thought the walk would be nice.”
Ichigo cleared the messy documents aside, feeling slightly flustered by the impromptu visit. “What can I do for you?”
“Are you aware that I had flagged one of your squad members to be unfit for deployment?” She asked calmly.
“Recently?” Ichigo said with raised brows. “Or are you talking about my old Fifth Seat? He’s been retired for a few years now.”
Unohana narrowed her eyes slightly. “I'm afraid not. The one I’m referring to is the young boy, Aizen Sōsuke.”
Ichigo did a double take, not having expected his name at all. “Aizen? Wait— what do you mean he’s unfit for deployment?”
“He came by the Fourth two weeks ago and requested a general examination,” Unohana revealed. “However, his case was quickly sent to me due to his unusual constitution.”
Ichigo frowned, realising that since the time she had helped him as a baby, she never checked on his spiritual condition again.
“What’s wrong with him?” She asked, curious about Unohana’s diagnosis.
“He has damage on both his Saketsu and Hakusui,” she said with a serious tone. “Compared to a direct injury, it seems more like a birth defect, but I’ve never seen anything like it. To be honest, it should have been impossible for him to become a Shinigami.”
The revelation wasn't new to her, but Ichigo was disappointed to hear that the repair she had done didn’t last.
“Did he complain of any symptoms?” She asked, feeling a twinge of guilt. “I’m surprised such a severe handicap wasn’t mentioned on his academic record.”
“Chronic headaches and chest pain mostly,” Unohana added, “but it’s likely that he never exerted himself enough at the Academy to induce more serious symptoms.”
Feeling a sense of foreboding, Ichigo folded her hands together. “Serious symptoms?”
“Shinigami who’ve had their Saketsu pierced can no longer regulate their spiritual energy properly,” Unohana said. “If the boy continues to disrupt his delicate state in battle, his body will likely shut down in an effort to save him. Such a situation makes him easy prey for Hollows, no?”
Having seen his coma-like state for herself, Ichigo understood the implications.
“Did Aizen know that you were deeming him unfit for deployment during discharge?“ she asked carefully.
“Of course,” Unohana nodded. “I sent one of my senior officers to deliver the official notice, and he claimed to have handed it directly to you.”
Ichigo stared blankly at her. “I… never got it.”
And of course, Aizen hadn’t said a word to her.
“Which is why I came in person, after not receiving a response,” Unohana said with a small frown. “Although I am concerned as to how this miscommunication occurred, I thought it more timely to warn you.”
Ichigo felt a cold sense of dread, knowing that she had unknowingly sent Aizen along with the Hollow subjugation group.
She might have anchored his soul to hers, but it certainly didn’t make him immortal on the off chance that something went horribly wrong.
“I need to go,” she said seriously, rising from her seat. “Thank you for coming here to tell me, Unohana-san.”
The older woman closed her eyes and exhaled softly. “I hope I wasn’t too late.”
Ichigo strapped Zangetsu along her back and scowled in determination.
If he survived this, Ichigo was going to give Aizen Sōsuke a lecture he would never forget.
Notes:
Y'all ready for another outsider POV of Ichigo being an absolute BAMF? 😉 Our girl ain't playing around!
I had so much fun writing all the banter in this chapter and honestly a lot of it was inspired by you guys in the comments so I hope it delivered!
Also, some actual plot outside of Ichigo/Aizen incoming! I know, who knew? Good thing Ichigo's around in this timeline 😏
Chapter 13
Notes:
Happy new year everyone! I just noticed that this story has over 1k kudos, which is crazy because it's only been a few months. I'm so thankful for each and every one of you, and I wish you all the best of 2024! 🥰❤️
There's a big note at the end, so I'll keep this one brief. Hope you enjoy the chapter!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Saitsuno was eerily empty.
“Hirako-san, maybe the Twelfth gave us a defective sensor?”
Beep.
Shinji felt his eye twitch, two seconds away from throwing the device into the forest, annoyed and uneasy by the silence around him.
“We’ve circled the whole district twice now,” another unit member whispered. “If it’s not sensing any more Hollows, then maybe there’s none left?”
Saitsuno was reported to have six Hollows wandering around, and within the last three days, Shinji and his team had only subjugated one.
Captain Kurosaki had even given him specific warnings for their safety, as it would be the most difficult destination of the three, but Shinji was starting to think that the Twelfth had gotten their numbers wrong.
“Should we just return to Seireitei?”
Turning back towards his team, Shinji pursed his lips and frowned. “Let’s meet up with the team in Uchiura. I’d like to see if their situation is anything like ours.”
Saitsuno was the 27th district of West Rukongai, while Uchiura was the 28th district of North Rukongai, so it would only take half a day to reach the corner where both districts met.
After receiving nods of agreement, Shinji led the group northeast as they quietly murmured amongst themselves.
“Maybe another Shinigami came through and wiped them out?”
“But why wouldn’t they report it?”
“The Hollow tracking device is still new, so maybe the Twelfth just got it wrong.”
Shinji remained silent as the rest of his team continued to deliberate, unwilling to make any definitive conclusions just yet.
Hollows were territorial in nature, and once they invaded a district in Soul Society or the Living World, they usually remained rooted there. It was possible that another Shinigmai had come by and wiped them out, but there was also a chance that the Hollows had migrated.
It was rare to see a chain of command within a group of mindless monsters, but when an exceptionally powerful Hollow appeared, the weaker ones tended to submit and follow.
A bad premonition settled in his chest as he turned back to look at his team.
“Let’s pick up the pace.”
He set a grueling speed, and the group arrived near the outskirts of Uchiura within a few hours, finding the district equally quiet.
Night had fallen, and Shinji could only rely on his own senses as they made their way through the endless forest.
If he remembered correctly, only a small part of Uchiura was civilised, as a massive lake covered a significant portion of the district, and the surrounding area was filled with dense vegetation.
It was the perfect spot for Hollows to gather.
Beep. Beep.
He glanced down at the transmitter, noting the device had finally picked up on a hollow within its radar.
“This way!” He ordered, pivoting north.
The treeline began to thin as Shinji jumped ahead of his team, breaking into a large clearing—
Then the reiatsu hit him.
On the other side of the lake, a group of six Hollows were swarming the bank where Nagayama and his team were, and it was clear by the unmoving figures on the ground that their situation was dire.
Beep. Beep. Beep—
“Shit,” Shinji muttered, quickly turning back to face his unit. “Arai, you take these five to flank, the rest of you, retrieve the wounded with me!”
The group split immediately, and Shinji leapt towards the lake, using reishi footholds to quickly run across the surface of the water.
He could spot at least three members of Nagayama’s team lying on the banks, while the leader himself was in fierce combat with a pair of Hollows.
One of the men seemed to notice their arrival and waved frantically.
“Hirako-san! There’s a—
“Look out!”
The hair on the back of neck rose as Shinji dodged without thinking, barely avoiding a pair of enormous talons as a Hollow barreled past him.
A seventh!
“It’s an Adjuchas!” Nagayama yelled over his shoulder.
Shinji felt his heart drop as he skidded to a halt and glanced up at the flying Hollow. It was smaller than the rest, but the weight of its reiatsu was unmistakable.
Adjuchas were said to be capable of facing Captain-class Shinigami, and Shinji had only read about them in books, never believing he’d see one in real life.
A short distance away, he noticed a small figure staggering along the edge of the lake beside the wounded group, and Shinji ran ahead, recognizing Sōsuke’s silhouette.
“Hey!” He called, reaching over to grab the boy’s shoulder. “Are you—”
“Don’t touch me!” He hissed, blindly attempting to swat him away, before falling to his knees.
Sōsuke was clutching his head with a pained expression, clearly incapacitated, but Shinji couldn’t see any blood or major injury on his body.
His reiatsu however, was fluctuating violently, all but disappearing at its lowest point, then rising to a powerful peak— far higher than Shinji’s own.
Before he could ask, a sharp cry echoed through the clearing and he looked up to see the Adjuchas turn back around, flying straight towards them with visible killing intent.
A zanpakutō was stabbed into the side of its Hollow mask, and Shinji recognized the green handle as Sōsuke’s own, clearly having been unable to finish the job.
The creature opened its large beak, and a massive hurricane of spiritual energy began gathering in its mouth.
Cero!
Even if Shinji was fast enough to grab Sōsuke and shunpo away, there were still three other Shinigami on the ground in various states of injury, as well as his fellow unit members.
A fully powered cero from an Adjuchas class Hollow would surely turn them all to dust.
“Get behind me!” He yelled urgently.
Without waiting to consider the consequences, Shinji raised his sword and compressed all of his own reiatsu in front of him, trying to steel himself for the inevitable impact.
His vision turned red as the cero exploded through the air—
— only to suddenly collide with an outstretched hand.
A flutter of orange hair drifted into his eyes.
Shinji stopped breathing as he stared in utter disbelief, wondering if he was dreaming.
“K-Kurosaki-taichō?”
Without responding, she casually flicked her hand, redirecting the massive cero straight into the lake, and causing the water to erupt like a volcano. Steam filled the air as half the lake started to plummet back down like heavy rain.
“As if I didn’t have enough to be mad about,” Captain Kurosaki said slowly, still unmoving. “It turns out that there’s an unreported Adjuchas here?”
Shinji felt chills roll down his arms as he stared at her back, suddenly feeling the urge to run.
The Adjuchas howled into the air and the other Hollows in the vicinity immediately turned from their own battles to face them, spurned by the call of their apparent leader.
“Nagayama!” Kurosaki yelled, raising her arm to beckon him.
The older man jolted to attention, eyes wide as he stared dumbly in her direction, as if just noticing her presence when the lesser Hollows retreated.
“T-Taichō?!” He stammered, before moving quickly to arrive at her side.
“How far is the main village from here?” She asked.
Shinji frowned, thrown off by the obscure question, but Nagayama stiffened up like a board.
“It’s at the south end, well over a thousand paces away,” he answered with a grim expression.
She hummed in acknowledgment before reaching over her shoulder to grab the handle of her zanpakutō.
“Get down.”
Shinji paused in confusion just as Nagayama raised his head and shouted at the top of his lungs.
“ALL UNITS, ON THE GROUND, NOW!”
The remaining Shinigami in the clearing immediately hit the dirt as if their lives were on the line, and before Shinji could even ask, he felt Nagayama grab a fistful of his robes and yank him towards the ground.
“What are you—“
“Don’t move!” Nagayama hissed.
Shinji peered through his messy hair at Captain Kurosaki, and saw that the white bandages that usually covered her zanpakutō were falling off, revealing an enormous khyber knife.
Spiritual energy erupted around her like a gold cloak, and he realised that it was the first time he could see someone’s reiatsu, yet feel nothing.
Between one blink and the next, her zanpakutō suddenly split into two blades, and she raised both arms and swung.
There was a beat of absolute stillness, as if the laws of nature snapped beyond their limits, then a massive shockwave exploded across the clearing.
Shinji immediately flattened his body and pressed his face into the ground, able to feel the sheer power of the blast as water and debris flew past the back of his head.
The distinct cry of Hollows echoed in his ears as their reiatsu began to disappear one by one, but he didn’t dare to move and remained frozen in place.
The following silence stretched for what seemed like an eternity before soft footfalls landed right beside his head.
“Shinji.”
Feeling all the tension leave his body, he slowly raised his head to see Captain Kurosaki standing over him. There was not a hair out of place, and her zanpakutō was resting over her back, covered, as if what he saw earlier was just an illusion.
There was a familiar katana in her hands, and he realised that she had managed to retrieve Sōsuke’s zanpakutō.
“Gather the wounded and return to Seireitei,” she ordered softly, before turning to Nagayama. “That includes you too.”
“Yes, taichō,” the older man conceded with a pained grunt.
“I’m going to Hokuren to find Hayashi’s team,” she continued, frowning slightly. “But I want a detailed report when I return.”
With that, she vanished in a single shunpo step, and Shinji slowly pushed himself off the ground as he stared at his surroundings.
Uchiura was gone.
In every direction he turned, as far as his eyes could see, the entire landscape had been obliterated, leaving nothing but an empty horizon.
The dense forest, the hills, and even the lake had all been razed, as if they had been wiped off the surface of the world.
Shinji felt a laugh of disbelief escape his throat.
Whoever said that an Adjuchas could challenge a Captain-class Shinigami, was an absolute liar.
Aizen Sōsuke feared nothing in the world.
Among the few absolute truths of the universe that he had come to believe over the years, the fact that his genius and power were incomparable to his peers remained unshakable.
While everyone else had panicked at the sight of an Adjuchas, Sōsuke was the one who challenged it head on. It was stronger than anything he had faced before, but ultimately still inferior to his own reiatsu.
He would have most certainly defeated the Hollow, had his illness not flared up in such a critical moment.
Which is how he found himself waking up in the recovery ward of the Fourth Division, and frightening a nurse who happened to be in the room.
Before he could get out a single word, the nurse turned tail and ran out the door, calling for her Captain as she went.
An hour later, it wasn’t Unohana who appeared, but Captain Kurosaki, who shot him a scowl the moment she entered.
“You’re awake,” she said curtly.
Sōsuke lowered his gaze, knowing that his schemes had been discovered.
It wasn’t as if he wanted to disregard her authority, but he genuinely believed in his own abilities. Regardless of what Unohana said, his illness rarely flared to a debilitating level, and the last time it did so, it wasn’t triggered by fighting.
It should have been impossible for him to regulate his spiritual energy in the first place, but here he was, considered a genius among Shinigami.
“Kurosaki-taichō— ”
“Do you think Unohana is a joke?” She asked coldly, coming to stand at the foot of his bed. “Or perhaps you wanted to test your fate at the first opportunity?”
Sōsuke blinked, quickly thinking of a way to divert the conversation, realising that she was truly furious.
“Not at all,” he insisted calmly. “I didn’t think it was all that important.”
The comment seemed to have the opposite effect, and her scowl deepened.
“Not that important?” She repeated incredulously. “Do the words unfit for deployment mean nothing to you?”
It should have meant nothing as long as Captain Kurosaki didn’t hear about it.
Sōsuke clenched his hands under the sheets, feeling strangely embarrassed by the direct acknowledgement. He stopped the report from reaching her desk, not only because he disagreed with the assessment, but because he didn’t want to give her a flawed impression of himself— that his very soul was damaged, yet no one knew why.
Even Unohana didn’t understand why it happened or how to heal it.
“Although I respect Unohana-taichō’s expertise, I thought her final judgement was unfair,” he said firmly, lifting his face to meet hers. “I know my body well, and it’s clear that from a medical standpoint, I shouldn’t even be here— but I am.”
Her eyes softened ever so slightly and she sighed. “Regardless of your beliefs, you realise that I had unknowingly deployed you to an uncertain death?”
Sōsuke shrugged innocently. “Dying is always a possibility when going into battle.”
She crossed her arms and glared. “That’s not the same thing, and you know it.”
Recognizing the glimmer of concern underneath her fury, Sōsuke lowered his head, feeling strangely uncomfortable under her gaze.
“I’m sorry,” he blurted quietly.
It was perhaps the first time he’s ever apologised to anyone, and although he said it without thinking, there was a deep impression in his heart— as if the words had come from a genuine place.
The remaining anger in her expression melted away as she dragged over an empty chair to sit beside his feet.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” She asked softly. “I heard from Unohana that you suffer from chronic headaches.”
Sōsuke grumbled, wanting nothing more than to remove the sickly persona that haunted him in her eyes. “I’m fine. I’m not hindered at all.”
She looked unconvinced. “Are you in any discomfort right now?”
He shook his head. “I haven’t had a headache since joining your division. What happened during the mission was just… an isolated incident.”
She raised a brow. “Except this had happened before?”
“Once,” he admitted with a slow nod. “About two years ago, when I first tried to manifest my zanpakutō spirit. I ended up in a coma for three days.”
Kurosaki seemed contemplative. “And did Kyōka Suigetsu say anything about the state of your soul?”
Sōsuke stilled, surprised to hear the name of his zanpakutō spoken out loud.
“…only that I was missing a portion of my power,” he said truthfully.
“That reminds me,” she said offhandedly, reaching inside her white robe to pull out a familiar katana. “This belongs to you.”
She placed his zanpakutō across his lap, and Sōsuke reached for the blade instinctively, feeling relief rush through his veins.
“Thank you, Kurosaki-taichō.”
“Don’t lose your zanpakutō again,” she warned lightly. “She’s been very upset with you.”
His hands froze as he lifted his gaze in shock. “You can hear Kyōka Suigetsu?”
Captain Kurosaki paused for a moment too long, as if releasing what she had just implied, before quickly waving her hand. “Just an impression. Of course, I can’t communicate with your zanpakutō like you can.”
“I see,” he muttered, feeling strangely disappointed. “Although, if I’m unfit for deployment, I’m not sure how useful a zanpakutō will be.”
“Your non-deployment status has been rescinded,” she revealed. “I had Unohana reexamine you last night.”
He raised his brows in surprise. “I was told that recovery is impossible.”
Kurosaki crossed her arms and leaned back into the chair, as if thinking long and hard about her next words.
“For reasons that I can’t explain nor fully understand, it seems that my reiryoku can be used to stabilise your spiritual base,” she said at last, looking uncharacteristically serious. “I treated you yesterday, and I’ll continue to monitor you until we can find a more permanent solution.”
Sōsuke stared blankly at her face, realising what that meant.
“So it was you, taichō,” he murmured, feeling awestruck.
She tilted her head slightly. “What was me?”
“Nothing,” he quickly muttered, happy to keep the secret to himself.
It mattered little if Captain Kurosaki didn’t remember meeting him as a child— there was now a more important discovery that made their relationship all the more unique.
“How exactly is the treatment done?” He asked curiously, having never been properly conscious enough to experience it.
“It’s the same way healing Kidō is performed to restore reiatsu,” she said simply. “But if you’re uncomfortable with me touching you, I can—”
“No!” He interjected, then immediately felt a sense of embarrassment creep up his neck. “I— I mean… I won’t mind.”
He dropped his partially raised hand and looked down at his lap, wondering how he always managed to say the most childish things around his captain.
Before he could think of a diverting topic, a long shadow fell over him and a warm hand settled on top of his head.
Spiritual energy poured down his body like a waterfall, and he sat wide eyed, as his own reiryoku flared up in response. He was covered in a golden light from head to toe, and the feeling of wholeness and raw power resonated through his very bones.
It was euphoric.
The sensation ended all too soon, and the warmth from his head disappeared along with it.
“Not so bad, right?” Kurosaki asked with a small smile. “If your headaches start coming back or your power grows unstable— you have to inform me. Unohana-san has also agreed to oversee your health and check my work.”
Sōsuke nodded absentmindedly, realising that he now had an incredible excuse to be in her presence more often.
Maybe being seen as a sickly genius wasn’t so bad after all?
“However—”
The room suddenly grew cold and Sōsuke looked up to see Captain Kurosaki’s expression turn livid as she leaned closer.
It was strange how he couldn’t feel an ounce of her reiatsu, yet his whole body seemed to react unconsciously and tense up.
“If you lie to me again, I will not be so lenient next time. Do you understand?”
Sōsuke nodded quickly, feeling his heart race. He might have lied as easily as he breathed, but there were lines that even he wouldn’t dare to cross.
He had seen what happened in Uchiura, and knew that her strength was far beyond the scope of his expectations.
Sōsuke didn’t fear anything in the world, but perhaps, Captain Kurosaki was an exception.
Ichigo was annoyed.
Hayashi’s team in Hokuren were perfectly fine and finished their mission without issue, and no other divisions reported seeing menos-class Hollows in their designated districts.
Thankfully, none of her squad members had died in action, and the entire series of subjugation missions were soon forgotten about for other matters as the Gotei moved on.
However, the situation wasn’t entirely over.
Sitting around a large table in a hidden office under the Twelfth Division, Ichigo glared at the report in her hands.
To her left, Enji and Ginrei sat silently, and on her right, Hikifune and Yahiko were in quiet discussion.
“You’re only telling me now that this bait heightens aggression?” She asked incredulously.
Hikifune sighed softly and held her head. “I apologise, Ichigo. Aggression levels are difficult to calculate, and we couldn’t determine which exact compounds were causing the agitation.”
Ichigo continued to flip through the report, feeling exhausted already.
“On the bright side, it seemed to increase inter-Hollow aggression more,” Hikifune added. “That’s probably why this issue went unnoticed for so long. The Hollows were too busy devouring each other, and didn’t pay attention to the regular souls.”
“Who the hell is out here trying to intentionally make a Vasto Lorde?” She muttered.
She couldn’t deny that the idea was appealing at first, if only to give Ulquiorra a friend, but then she remembered a few of the other Espada who were especially violent and cruel.
Hikifune pursed her lips and shot Yahiko a look. “I’m afraid that sort of information is out of my expertise.”
The man in question, if possible, looked even more weary. “I looked into the lead you mentioned, Kirio, and unfortunately, you were right.”
At this, Enji jolted to attention and Ginrei furrowed his brows.
“Were you able to detain a witness?” Enji asked seriously, leaning forward.
Yahiko shook his head. “My men didn’t even make contact. The culprit killed himself the moment he realised that he had a tail.”
“Shit,” Enji hissed, hitting the table with his fist.
“Be patient,” Ginrei chided. “I know you’ve been after them for years, but we can’t prematurely startle the snake just yet.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Enji growled, choosing to glare at the table.
Surprised by the intense atmosphere between them, Ichigo glanced at her grandfather.
“What happened?” She asked calmly.
Enji crossed his arms and sighed heavily. “The man Yahiko was tailing was discovered to have connections with the Sumida Clan.”
The name sounded familiar, but Ichigo couldn’t pinpoint their importance. “Who are they?”
“A lesser noble house, but they are retainers of the Tsunayashiro Family,” he revealed.
Ichigo immediately understood the implications, but she hesitated to make a definite judgement. “Do we know for certain if they’re moving independently or under the orders of the Tsunayashiro?”
Enji scoffed. “You can consider the Tsunayashiro guilty regardless. The Sumida Clan acts as their exclusive militia, and they handle all the unspeakable dirty work.”
She glanced around the table, seeing three out of the five great noble family heads. “Is our word not enough to warrant an official investigation?”
“Normally it would be,” Enji nodded with a scowl. “But the Tsunayashiro’s influence runs deep, and even if we manage to obtain a conviction, they’ll most likely be ordered to pay a fine and the entire matter will get swept under the rug.”
“Then the money goes to the Central 46, which they control a significant portion of,” Ichigo finished knowingly.
“Exactly,” Enji huffed. “Someone major from the family has to slip, and do so publicly.”
“But why would they go through such lengths to produce illegal hollow bait and try to accelerate the evolution of menos?” She asked.
“I’ve been asking the same question myself for almost a century,” Enji muttered, pressing his fist against his cheek.
Ichigo grew wide eyed in surprise. “This has been going on for that long?”
“Unfortunately, based on conjecture with no evidence to present,” Ginrei interjected calmly. “It’s a matter of coincidental timing, suspicious events, missing shinigami, and so on.”
Enji grumbled under his breath. “We don’t know if it’s all related to the same goal, but it certainly points to the same family.”
“How did you discover their tracks in the first place?” She asked.
At this, a dark look passed through both Enji and Ginrei’s eyes, before the former spoke up.
“Before Ineshi passed, she was looking into the death of one of her close friends within the Tsunayashiro Clan,” he said stiffly, fist clenched atop the table. “She was certain that they were assassinated for discovering something dangerous, but before Ineshi could procure any concrete evidence, she too, died.”
Ichigo jolted at the suggestion, and stared in horror at the two men. “You’re not saying she was also…?”
Enji scowled. “My sister was in great health all her life. Even if the pregnancy had been particularly difficult—”
“Which it wasn’t,” Ginrei added quietly.
“—the timing and manner of her death was all sorts of suspicious,” Enji finished with a deep sigh. “But by the time we got over our grief and began to investigate, all the trails had gone cold.”
Yahiko lowered his head, looking regretful. “I’m sorry, Enji.”
“This isn’t the last of their plans, I’m sure,” he muttered. “We’ll get another chance.”
“What will happen to the case now?” Ichigo asked.
“It’ll close with a dead end, as usual,” Yahiko said with a grim face. “We have an abandoned production factory, a dead researcher, and more hearsay than evidence.”
Ichigo frowned, disliking how powerless they were in such a situation.
She wished that she had more useful information as someone from the future, but the unfortunate fact remained— she knew almost nothing about the inner workings of Seireitei’s society before arriving here.
Even after forty years, she felt as if she was barely scratching the surface.
The meeting concluded on a sombre note, and Ichigo left the Twelfth Division with heavy shoulders.
She wondered if Aizen was laughing at her from inside her head, having already predicted how she would fare against Seireitei’s deepest corruption.
Then the realisation hit her.
Ichigo didn't have any information regarding the Tsunayashiro Clan’s future, but Aizen certainly did
He had to.
She rushed back to the Fifth Division, dropped Hikifune’s report off in her office, and locked herself in her personal quarters where she knew she wouldn’t be bothered.
Forcing herself to relax as sat in jinzen, Ichigo soon opened her eyes to her inner world.
Over the years, she learned that the landscape of her inner world changed depending on her mood. On the days her confidence ran high, so would the skyscrapers. If she was feeling melancholic about the past, the buildings would change into a replica of Karakura Town.
Today, her inner world mirrored Seireitei, specifically the Fifth Division barracks.
“Aizen?” She yelled, quickly glancing around for his figure.
Silence greeted her call, and Ichigo sighed as she condensed the reishi around her and tried to visualise his spirit ribbon.
“Where are you, when I actually need you?” She muttered.
A red thread appeared on her hand, and instead of trailing into the far distance like she expected, it snaked around her waist.
She turned around, confused, only to walk straight into the man himself.
“Gaah!” She screamed, nearly jumping out of her skin at his sudden appearance. “What the hell?!”
Aizen stared down at her with an amused expression.
“You need me?”
“Don’t do that!” She hissed, pushing against his chest to create some space. “Where did you even come from?”
Aizen shrugged. “The landscape changed a few hours ago, so I got lost.”
Ichigo huffed and sent him an impatient glare. “I need to ask you a question.”
“Of course,” he murmured.
“What do you know about the Tsunayashiro family?”
He paused for a moment, as if taken by surprise, before a wide grin appeared on his face.
Ichigo recognized that look.
There was no warmth in his smile, and his eyes glimmered with mocking joy, as if he had been waiting for this moment his entire life.
She had seen the same look on Kyōraku’s face when a couple in the Eighth Division had a very dramatic and public breakup right outside his office.
A bad feeling settled in the pit of her stomach.
Aizen stepped closer, and lowered his face to her ear as if trying to share a secret.
“How much time do you have?”
Ichigo never thought the day would come when she sympathised with Aizen.
To be fair, she still considered him a narcissistic psychopath, but after living in Soul Society herself, she was able to understand why he wanted to create a new world order.
Perhaps it was more accurate to say that she sympathised with Kaname Tōsen.
Compared to the lengths he had gone to avenge a close friend, what Ichigo did to save Rukia wasn’t too inherently different.
Now, what was she supposed to do about Tsunayashiro Tokinada?
He had yet to marry Tōsen’s friend, or fully take over the Tsunayashrio Family, but there was no doubt that his plans were slowly rolling into motion. And while he might have been a pivotal force in the future, his current power was nowhere near the influence needed to orchestrate such an elaborate scheme.
Aizen had been certain that the current matter was being helmed by members of the main house, as the entire family strived for power by whatever means necessary.
Ultimately, it put her in the same position that Enji was— stuck in a perpetual limbo until she was able to gather irrefutable evidence of their corruption.
Ichigo sighed softly as she stared blankly at the paperwork in front of her, realising that she hadn’t filled out a single page.
“Taichō, is everything alright?”
She glanced up to see Shinji and Aizen looking worriedly in her direction from their shared table.
“It’s nothing,” she said casually, trying to brighten her tone. “Thank you for helping me finish these reports.”
Ever since returning from their recent subjugation mission, the two were surprisingly cordial with each other, and Ichigo was happy to see them finally get along.
“I visited Nagayama earlier today, and he said that he would be getting discharged tomorrow,” Shinji said.
“That’s good,” she nodded absentmindedly. “When you have time—”
“Report for the Fifth Division Captain, Shiba Ichigo!”
She whipped her attention towards the door with wide eyes, recognizing the official address.
After Enji had legitimised her into the Shiba Clan, there was only one group of people that insisted on the use of her legal name.
Just as she expected, the door slid open to reveal a messenger from the Central 46.
The man bowed in greeting, before stepping inside to hand her a thin report, then returned to his place under the doorway.
“Speak,” she ordered with a frown.
“The Azashiro Clan have been found guilty in the production of illegal Hollow bait, for the crimes of invoking forbidden research and the creation of unsanctioned weapons against Soul Society. All members and servants are sentenced to execution in the Spirit-Sealing Pit, and the Azashiro Clan will be wiped from the noble registry.”
Ichigo nearly dropped the report in her hands, stunned beyond words. “Wh— What?!”
“The execution date has been set, ten days from today,” the messenger added. “This has been the final verdict of the Central 46.”
With that, the messenger gave her one last bow before flickering away, having fulfilled his duty.
“Wait— shit!” She hissed, staring down at the offending report with narrowed eyes.
She flipped through it angrily, catching glimpses of the documented evidence.
Blueprints of the bait found within the manor—
Witness testimony of the convicts whereabouts received—
Confirmed ownership of the abandoned factory—
Ichigo crumbled the report, knowing that it was useless to read more. It was clearly all a setup for an innocent and weaker party to take the downfall.
A long stretch of silence fell over her office before Shinji finally spoke up.
“T-Taichō?” He said gingerly. “Isn’t this a good thing? I mean, execution seems too severe of a punishment, but…”
Her shoulders fell heavily and she sighed. “It should be a good thing.”
“What is the Spirit-Sealing Pit?” Aizen asked, eyes innocently wide.
“It’s a huge pit walled with Sekkiseki,” Shinji answered. “Criminals get thrown inside with Hollows, and the nobles like to gather around and watch for entertainment.”
“What if they defeat the Hollows?”
Shinji crossed his arms with a distasteful expression. “Then they get thrown into the Dangai without a hell butterfly.”
“Oh.”
Another round of silence settled in the room as Ichigo scowled wordlessly at the ruined report.
She knew Enji had been trying to get rid of the Hollow Pits entirely, arguing that such a practice was barbaric and unnecessarily cruel, and Ichigo wholeheartedly agreed with him.
The pits were converted into garbage dumps by the time she invaded Seireitei in the future, but she had no desire to see them used even now.
“I’m going to the Tenth,” she said suddenly, getting to her feet. “You two can take the rest of the day off— I’ll organise the paperwork when I get back.”
Without waiting for them to respond, Ichigo leapt out the door and disappeared into the air.
As soon as she left the office, a different sort of silence took over and tension crackled in the air.
“Are you an idiot?” Sōsuke muttered, setting aside his brush. “Calling it a good thing, when Kurosaki-taichō was clearly upset at the ruling.”
Shinji scowled in return.
While the two had wordlessly agreed to stay civil in front of their captain, unwilling to provoke her wrath— the moment she was gone, all bets were off the table again.
“Don’t talk as if you know what’s been on her mind,” he snapped back. “It’s obviously an issue bigger than any of us.”
The accusation seemed to hit true, and Sōsuke huffed quietly.
There was one major thing that separated the two of them from Captain Kurosaki, which was their status as commoners.
Not only was she a noble, but she belonged to one of the Five Great Clans, meaning that she ran in social circles that Shinji could only dream about in his lifetime.
This was clearly a problem between the nobility, which is why she didn’t bother explaining herself earlier.
What could two young and inexperienced commoners like themselves offer?
“Is it possible for the Central 46 to overturn their ruling on the basis of an appeal?” Sōsuke asked.
Shinji scoffed, and cleared away the scattered papers on his desk. “You’ll have more success overturning a Central 46 decision by destabilising their entire judiciary. Why do you think so many of them are targets for assassination?”
“Is that so,” Sōsuke muttered, tilting his head.
“However, I highly doubt Kurosaki-taichō will resort to any sort of violence,” he said, feeling a chill run down his back as he paused. “At least, I hope not.”
While he greatly admired and respected his captain, Shinji had no desire to see her blade released again, fearing the collateral damage it would inflict on Seireitei.
If such a situation did occur, he hoped to be as far away as possible, ideally on the other side of Soul Society.
“I’m heading out,” he called, feeling the day’s stress weigh on his shoulders. “Make sure you clean up before you leave.”
Sōsuke hummed quietly in response, his eyes narrowed towards an empty corner as if lost in thought.
Shaking off his sudden sense of unease, Shinji stepped out of the office and stared into the sky with a worried frown.
He wanted to help Captain Kurosaki in any way that he could, but he also didn’t want to be a burden.
To overturn a verdict from the Central 46— he wouldn’t even know where to start.
Ten days were going to pass in a blink of an eye.
Notes:
Some footnotes for this chapter—
I referred to Kyōka Suigetsu as a 'she', as I've always imagined her as a female spirit. The name itself means 'Mirror Flower, Water Moon', so I envisioned her to look like a mix between Katen Kyōkotsu and Benihime (a mature and elegant woman, who could absolutely kill you LOL).
I cut out Aizen's exposition regarding the Tsunayashrio Clan (and Tokinada), as I assume most of you are already familiar with CFYOW. The important stuff will be brought up again in later chapters, but if you haven't read/heard about the novel lore, let me know in the comments and I'll clarify!
In the same vein, I'll be using some content from the other bleach novel, SAFWY. The lore there is not as important, as Ichigo is around this time to change things, but if you're curious, the bleach fandom wikis are a great read for both novels! Azashiro Soya is a super interesting character, and definitely has one of the most hax abilities in bleach.
Some more ass-kicking incoming next chapter 😏 but poor baby Aizen, he's about to get more competition for Ichigo's attention haha
Chapter 14
Notes:
I'm alive! To be honest, I didn't know if I could ever get this chapter done. I wrote, deleted, and rewrote every section so many times because I never felt happy with it. Work has also been stressful with my office getting hit with layoffs all last week. I'm happy to still have a job but also devastated to see so many friends gone. 😢 Besides that, I hope you enjoy the chapter! Thank you to all the readers and commenters who make this fic feel like such a supportive space 💙
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Captain Kurosaki disappeared for ten days.
It was perhaps the first time since joining the Fifth Division that Sōsuke couldn’t find even a glimpse of her figure in the barracks.
And of course, she was the one person who he couldn’t sense at all, making it impossible for him to track her down.
Sōsuke was admittedly irritated, not at his missing captain, but at the ruling idiots of the Central 46 who were clearly at the root of the problem.
No one knew where she had gone, and even Shinji appeared crestfallen every time he walked out of her empty office.
“All we can do is wait,” he muttered.
Sōsuke, however, refused to remain idle.
After completing his duties in the morning, he spent the rest of the day patrolling around Seireitei, keeping his eyes and ears open to any news regarding the recent case.
His low standing as a 20th Seat became an unexpected advantage, as he had no real responsibility, and could leave the barracks without anyone asking for his time— unlike Shinji.
Even before joining the Academy, he had seen the dark side of Soul Society, and was curious to see just how sinister the noble society of Seireitei truly was.
And there was only one place he could find those answers.
Behind the barracks of the First Division was the Central 46 Compound. Much of the complex was underground, hidden away and restricted against anyone unrelated to the judiciary.
After observing the exterior compound for the past five days, watching all sorts of people come and go, Sōsuke was ready to make his move.
Fortunately, the outermost guard was someone he was familiar with, having been part of the same graduating class. It was evident his former classmate hadn’t been able to get into the Gotei, the Kidō Corps, or the Onmitsukidō, and could only work as the lowest level guard.
Since the guard had already seen his shikai release while at the Academy, Sōsuke simply walked past him without notice and infiltrated the compound.
He quickly crossed the long bridge and entered the main building, casting an obscuring Kidō over himself as he descended deeper underground, following an endless spiral staircase.
Within minutes, he stepped out into a large lobby, finding it utterly cold and empty.
Perhaps the Central 46 had a hubris of their own, and believed that no one would dare to trespass on their territory, and left the compound unguarded.
Sticking close to the wall, Sosuke began walking deeper inside, his senses alert for anyone nearby.
It was strange.
He had never stepped foot inside the Central 46 building, but he felt a distinct impression of familiarity, as if he had been here once before.
After walking down a long hallway, he spotted a large octagonal edifice ahead, flanked by two guards at the main entrance. It might have been the first time he set eyes on the structure, but he instantly knew that it was the Central Assembly Hall.
Based on the presence of guards outside, he realised that a trial was currently taking place.
A faint memory flickered past his thoughts like a dream, and he suddenly imagined himself slaughtering the entirety of the Central 46.
Sōsuke blinked and the memory vanished like smoke.
While the idea was somewhat appealing, he knew that it was impossible in his current state.
He had tested the limits of his shikai during the Ranking Trials last month, and concluded that the maximum number of people he could simultaneously hypnotise was forty. If he gave up control over the lesser senses such as smell or taste, he could extend his control by another ten people, but he refused to settle for partial hypnosis.
If he wanted to subject all of Central 46 to the power of his zanpakutō, he still needed more time to train.
Obtaining bankai was also at the top of his priority list, as it would allow him to use Kyōka Suigetsu without directly calling its release command and potentially alerting his opponent.
With a stony expression, Sōsuke walked away from the Assembly Hall, inwardly swearing to himself that he’d surpass his current limits with due time.
Returning to the lobby, he turned into a different hallway and headed deeper underground.
Aside from the courtroom, the compound housed two important locations— the Seijōtōkyorin, where all the members of the Central 46 lived, and the Daireishokairō, where records, knowledge, and the history of Soul Society were kept.
A group of footsteps suddenly approached from the distance, and Sōsuke quickly slipped into a side hall, double checked his illusory Kidō, and clamped down on his reiatsu.
“—aren’t even doing your job properly! My father gave specific orders for those records to be removed from the archive!”
“I— well, the Chief Librarian has been busy supporting the current trial. When he returns—“
“You think Amakado will go against his pride as a keeper and delete something from the Daireishokairō?”
“But, without his permission, I don’t have the clearance to erase files—“
“Useless bastard! If you can’t even figure this out, what’s the point in keeping you here?”
“…A-Apologies, Nagasue-sama.”
“The trial ends in an hour— you have until then. I’ll be back here to check.”
Standing with his back pressed against the wall, Sōsuke watched as a tall, dark haired man briskly walked past him. The hallway fell into silence once more, and he peered around the corner to see a young man standing at the end with his head lowered.
With an audible sigh, the man turned around and headed back into the Daireishokairō, and Sōsuke ran after him, sneaking in just as the gate closed.
As if sensing something amiss, the man glanced behind him with a frown, just as Sōsuke reached up to grab his face.
“Bakudō 29: Hakufuku.”
The man flinched, half a gasp escaping his throat before he collapsed to the ground, unconscious.
Moving quickly, Sōsuke grabbed the back of the man’s shihakushō and began dragging him down the bridge.
The Daireishokairō was an enormous circular room with dim yellow lighting, and records stacked on top of each other in endless rows. A single floating bridge connected to a large platform with a control deck.
Sōsuke pushed the unconscious man to the side and began observing the interface, reaching out to experimentally press a few of the keys.
Another wave of déjà vu muddled his mind, and he quickly shook his head, trying to rid himself of the strange feeling.
He peered at the files that were already pulled up and scanned through the contents, wondering why someone was so eager to erase them. There was nothing but property records in Rukongai, business acquisition letters, and production permits.
The only thing that connected all the papers were the clan names Tsunayashiro and Sumida.
He was somewhat familiar with the Tsunayashiro family, as they were considered to be the most prominent of the Five Great Noble Clans. Such a powerful group would undoubtedly have their hands in every crevice of Soul Society.
If anything, it was an interesting place to start his search.
By the time an hour passed, the door to the Daireishokairō opened with a quiet hiss, and a pair of footsteps echoed along the bridge.
A deep voice resonated through the chamber. “Is it done?”
Sōsuke slowly turned around to see the dark haired man from before, standing behind an old man in a white robe. A golden headpiece rested on the crown of his head, signifying his status as a sage of the Central 46.
The aforementioned father, perhaps?
The two tensed at seeing his face, their calm façade instantly breaking.
“Who the hell are you?” The younger man asked with wide eyes. “Where’s Atagi?”
Sōsuke blinked and glanced between the two of them, before settling his gaze on the one who spoke. “You must be Tsunayashiro Nagasue.”
The man sneered. “If you know who I am, then why ask?”
The older man raised his hand, as if expecting the outburst, then narrowed his eyes at Sōsuke.
“Such an audacious child. I don’t know if I should call you brave or foolish,” he said coldly. “Does your master dare to conspire against our clan?”
“Master?” Sōsuke repeated with a tone of ridicule, then met the old man’s gaze impassively. “What do the dead need to know?”
“Impudent!” The man rebuked, spiking his reiatsu with an expression of outrage. “So you’re a fool, after all!”
The pressure barely tickled his shoulders, and Sōsuke smoothly unsheathed his sword in response.
“Shatter, Kyōka Suigetsu.”
On the day of the Azashiro Clan’s execution, Sōsuke made his way to the designated Spirit Sealing Pit, and found himself lost within a large crowd.
He had hoped to see Captain Kurosaki at the scene, knowing she disappeared in order to obtain an appeal for this very event, but he was disappointed to find her absent yet again.
Most of the attendees were members of nobility, who were there to witness the final extermination of the Azashiro Clan. Some were silent and respectful, while others eagerly anticipated the ensuing entertainment.
Near the back of the crowd, Sōsuke spotted a fellow squad member who was standing alone with a solemn expression, and he silently approached the familiar man.
He recognized the shinigami as Ryuzaki Daizō, an officer of the 14th Seat. There was nothing remarkable about him whatsoever, but Sōsuke remembered hearing that he was once a part of the old Fifth Division before Captain Kurosaki took over, and had climbed his way back up the ranks.
“Ryuzaki-san,” he greeted.
The man turned with wide eyes, as if surprised to hear his name called.
“Aizen?” Ryuzaki blinked, looking bewildered by his appearance. “What are you doing here?”
It’s no place for kids, seemed to go unsaid.
Sōsuke shrugged. “Just curious. I’ve never seen the Spirit Sealing Pit in use before.”
Ryuzaki grimaced. “I don’t know if anyone told you, but it’s not exactly a sight to enjoy.”
“Then why are you here?” Sōsuke asked tactfully.
The older man cleared his throat and looked away, as if trying to suppress his emotions. “My family had some ties with the Azashiro. It’s only right that I witness their last moments.”
Sōsuke didn’t know all the noble families by name just yet, but he wasn’t surprised by the connection.
“I see,” he said. “Do you disagree with the conviction?”
Ryuzaki flinched, quickly looking around at the crowd nearby as if something scandalous had just been said.
“Are you crazy?” He hissed quietly. “The Central 46 has already made their ruling! Do you want to be charged with treason?”
Sōsuke raised his brows. “You can’t even express your doubt?”
Ryuzaki crouched down so they were eye level and quickly placed both his hands over Sōsuke’s shoulders, as if wanting to shake him.
“Listen, I know you’re still young, but you can’t be saying things like that,” he warned with a low voice. “Especially not here, in the midst of all these nobles.”
Sōsuke tilted his head. “Why not?”
“Because you’re attacking the legitimacy of the Central 46!” He said quickly, before glancing over his shoulder. “If you’re not careful, you could end up like the Azashiro Clan.”
“Ah, so you do believe they were sentenced unjustly,” Sōsuke said with a smile.
“W-What?” He stammered. “Of course not— I just—”
“Release the seal!”
Sōsuke turned towards the voice as a large tremor shook the ground, and a slab of white rock began sliding open, revealing an enormous rectangular pit. The cry of Hollows immediately filled the air but he could barely feel their reiatsu, as they were suppressed by the Sekkiseki.
Members of the Kidō corps surrounded the pit as the Azashiro Clan were escorted towards one side. Each person had Kidō bindings around their hands, feet, and even their mouth, preventing any escape. The group of thirty were lined up in pairs, with adults placed near the front and the children in the rear.
“It’s starting,” Ryuzaki muttered shakily.
Beside the guards, a man in official garb opened a long scroll and spoke clearly to the audience. “Today we witness the Azashiro Clan, who were found guilty in these crimes against Soul Society— the creation of illegal Hollow bait, undertaking forbidden research, and devising unsanctioned weapons. All members are hereby sentenced to execution in the Spirit Sealing Pit!”
He snapped the scroll shut and turned to the guards. “Commence!”
Without wasting any time, the guards took the first pair and ruthlessly pushed them into the abyss.
The pit was so large and deep, that Sōsuke couldn’t even see the Hollows, much less the two people who were thrown inside.
“Won’t they just die from the fall?” He asked, glancing at the man next to him.
Ryuzaki shook his head. “That’s what the Kidō seals are for. It protects them at first, but… its power will eventually get dissolved by the Sekkiseki.”
Just on cue, the screaming started.
Sōsuke quickly realised that the entertainment factor of a Hollow Pit was all in the mind. None of the spectators could actually see the bloodshed, they could only imagine the scene based on the noise.
The screams of terror, the cries for help, and the crunching of bones as the Hollows advanced on their prey.
Before the chaos could end, the next pair of prisoners were sent in.
“Why don’t they throw them in all at once?” He asked.
“Execution using the Spirit Sealing Pit is also supposed to be a spectacle,” Ryuzaki said tightly. “Criminals are sent down in pairs so the audience can keep track of who they’re hearing.”
“Hn,” he grunted softly, eyeing the lineup. “What determines the order?”
“The Central 46 decreed that the servants are executed first, the branch family second, then the main family, from oldest to youngest.”
Sōsuke nodded absentmindedly and stared into the dark pit, wondering what it was like on the inside. Sekkiseki repelled all reiryoku and even drained the spiritual energy of those within, leaving them vulnerable and weak.
He felt the urge to jump in and test it for himself, wanting to see how his own reiatsu held up.
Standing outside and listening to people scream for half an hour was not something he considered interesting at all.
As the execution continued on, Sōsuke noticed that a few of the attendees had distanced themselves, looking sick, while others were starting to place bets on how long the victims would last, sharing laughs and drinks.
It was all too boring.
Seeing as Captain Kurosaki didn’t attend the execution either, Sōsuke sighed unhappily before turning to leave.
He glanced up at the older man next to him, about to bid farewell, when he noticed the horrified expression on Ryuzaki’s face. His hands were clenched at his sides, trembling, as if he wanted nothing more than to cover his ears.
Perhaps his ties to the Azashiro were more personal than he let on.
There were only two children remaining now, a brother and sister pair, who looked to be around his age.
He watched as two were pushed inside, finally bringing the event to an end, and he began walking away with a disappointed sigh.
The moment he turned his back, a shrill noise exploded in the far distance, and Sōsuke looked over his shoulder to see red fireworks burst into the sky.
A celebration— or a signal?
Confusion furrowed his brows as he tried to pinpoint the source, but before he could wonder, a streak of white and orange caught his eye.
Sōsuke’s body reacted before his mind did, able to recognize Captain Kurosaki’s figure in an instant before she tore through the crowd and jumped straight into the Spirit Sealing Pit before anyone could stop her.
There was a beat of silence, as if everyone was trying to process what had just occurred, then a giant column of spiritual energy exploded into the sky.
Sōsuke actually stumbled as a wave of heavy reiatsu slammed down upon his shoulders, and he reached out to steady himself against a wall, eyes wide with shock.
It was the first time he had ever felt someone else’s reiatsu and instantly knew that it surpassed his own.
Close behind him, he saw Ryuzaki fall to his knees, face covered in sweat.
“T-This reiatsu— it’s—” he choked, clearly recognizing it.
Sōsuke quickly looked up at the scene before him, seeing all the nobles who had come to see the show currently pressed onto the ground, their previously joyous expressions nowhere to be seen.
Even the Kidō Corps and the garrison of the Central 46 who were closest to the pit were unmoving, either too afraid to approach or unable to.
So this was Captain Kurosaki’s reiatsu.
The pressure was undoubtedly suffocating, and he wondered how she managed to hide such massive strength to the point her presence couldn’t be felt at all.
Forcing his feet to move, Sōsuke pushed through a throng of people and approached the edge of the pit. He noticed that cracks were forming along the white stone, clearly unable to contain the raging spiritual energy within it, and within seconds, the Sekkiseki shattered into pieces and broke off the sides of the wall.
There was a flicker of movement, and Sōsuke looked up to see Captain Kurosaki reappear in the air, holding a child in each arm. Her long orange hair swayed wildly in the wind, revealing a cold expression as she briefly glanced down at the spectators.
She seemed to take a deep, controlled breath, and the column of reiatsu immediately dissipated, allowing the entire crowd to take a collective gasp as the pressure ceased.
“The execution stops here,” she declared, pinning her gaze on the leading Kidō Corps unit. “The Central 46 has ordered a cease and desist for all activities regarding the Azashrio Clan’s execution while they review new evidence.”
Silence met her statement, and the nobles who were enjoying the spectacle earlier, shrank back with an ugly face.
Although an official messenger from the Central 46 hadn’t arrived, no one attempted to argue against the validity of her claim.
Even if someone dared to insist on executing the last two survivors, what could they do? The Hollows were gone, and the Sekkiseki was ruined, likely unable to be used again.
Captain Kurosaki landed silently on the other side of the pit, her fury still tangible in the air as she shot a menacing look across the crowd, as if trying to memorise the faces of everyone there.
Without saying another word, she turned on her heel and disappeared in a shunpo step, taking the two Azashiro children with her, and Sōsuke immediately moved to follow her trail.
He wasn’t going to lose sight of her.
Not this time.
Ichigo was exhausted, running on fumes and sheer willpower.
After four days, she and Enji were finally able to find the Sumida Clan’s accomplice with the help of the Onmitsukidō, knowing that the person who planted the false evidence was the only one capable of turning the entire situation around.
Hiding in the outskirts of Seireitei, they found Ikeda Sechi, a woman who had ties to both the Azashiro and Sumida Clans by the marriage of her siblings.
She was quickly revealed to be an unwilling pawn, who took orders while the lives of her family were on the line, and was about to be silenced by an assassin just before Ichigo arrived.
Unfortunately, the children who were taken hostage weren’t spared, and the final assassin was meant to bury their tracks forever.
Spurned by the wrongful death of her family, Ikeda agreed to stand trial.
With their key witness, Ichigo spent the last three days in the Central 46 Compound, trying to overturn the Azashiro’s sentence and open an inquest into the Sumida Clan’s affairs.
To keep Yahiko and Ginrei’s involvement a secret, she and Enji agreed to be the face of the prosecution, which caused the sitting judiciary to split into two factions.
While the Tsunayashiro family were highly prominent, they had also gained many enemies over the years who were eager to tip the scales of power. Using the Shiba Clan as a shield, the lesser noble families began flocking towards their side, and reopened Enji’s appeal to terminate executions in the Spirit Sealing Pit.
If the Azashiro Clan could be schemed into execution, who was to say their own families were safe?
After days of deliberation, the last thing Ichigo wanted to do was return to that damned Assembly Hall, but she knew there was one more thing she had to see through.
She dropped the two surviving children off at the Fourth Division, confident in Unohana’s protection, and made her way back to the Central 46 Compound. Just as she entered the inner lobby of the Assembly Hall, she spotted Enji waiting in the corner.
He got to his feet and met her halfway. “How’d it go?” he asked hurriedly.
Ichigo grimaced, and glanced at the blood stained on her robe. “I barely made it. Only two kids were left.”
Enji sighed. “I assumed we’d be too late to save any of them, so I suppose this could be considered a small success.”
She nodded. “How are things here?”
“The final testimony was given an hour ago,” he revealed with a tired smile. “Sumida Ujiha is under official inquest, and I suspect we’ll be hearing good news soon.”
Ichigo looked at him with surprise. “You think there’s a chance for a true conviction?”
Enji snorted and crossed his arms. “There’s too much stacked against them this time. The Tsunayashiro will have no choice but to cut off the tail in order to save the head.”
She hummed in agreement before frowning. “Did you get any more information regarding the incident this morning?”
Barely six hours ago, two corpses were found at the bottom of the Daireishokairō, causing the compound to go into a strict lockdown. If it wasn’t for the urgency of the Sumida Clan’s trial, the whole thing would have been pushed back.
“The bodies were identified as Tsunayashiro Naritane, the 38th Sage, and his son, Tsunayashiro Nagasue,” Enji said in a low whisper. “The current suspect is a servant named Atagi.”
“That old guy died?” Ichigo muttered in surprise.
Enji raised a single eyebrow at her. “You didn’t have anything to do with this, did you?”
Ichigo smacked the side of his head. “Jii-chan!”
“Okay, okay,” Enji chuckled, raising his hands to block her swats. “He was constantly interrupting you during yesterday’s hearing, so I figured you’d be mad.”
“He was annoying as hell, but I wouldn’t assassinate him,” she muttered, rolling her eyes.
“Regardless of who did it, it's both a blessing and a curse,” Enji said with a sigh. “That’s one less Tsunayashiro vote in today’s trial, but I’m afraid that as their strongest opposing party, the suspicion will naturally fall on our shoulders.”
“Let it,” Ichigo scoffed. “The more moves they make, the more ammunition it’ll give us in the end.”
Whatever Enji was about to say in response was interrupted when a hidden guard suddenly appeared beside him.
“Shiba-sama, we apprehended a young shinigami who was attempting to break into the hall,” he revealed quickly. “How should we deal with him?”
Enji frowned. “A shinigami? Or a noble’s kid?”
The guard seemed to hesitate before replying. “He… claimed to be a subordinate of Kurosaki-taichō.”
Ichigo did a double take and stared at the guard in confusion. She was familiar with Enji’s most talented shadow, and knew he wasn’t one to make jokes.
“Bring him here,” Enji ordered, shooting her a side glance.
There was a few minutes of awkward silence before the guard returned with the young shinigami in question.
Of course, it was Aizen.
Although he was being escorted inside like a prisoner, his steps were languid and calm, and his face brightened as they met eyes across the room.
“Kurosaki-taichō!” He called, looking suspiciously happy.
Ichigo felt her eyes twitch as Enji raised his brows in surprise.
She scowled at his appearance, not believing his childish act for a moment. “What are you doing here?”
“I saw you entering this place and I just wanted to see you,” he said innocently. “You disappeared for almost two weeks.”
She huffed tiredly. “This is the Central 46 Compound, you can’t just come in at your leisure.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” he replied sheepishly, before discreetly looking around as if he were admiring the edifice for the first time.
“Don’t be too harsh, Ichi-chan,” Enji said teasingly, reaching out to pat her shoulder. “The boy’s still young, and there’s no harm in a little sneaking around.”
She looked balefully at her grandfather. “This is Aizen Sōsuke—” a master manipulator, deceiver, mass murderer, and megalomaniac, “—he just joined my division a few months ago.”
“Oh!” Enji’s eyes brightened. “You must be the rumoured prodigy who graduated in a single year.”
Aizen nodded and bowed politely. “It's an honour to meet you, Shiba-taichō.”
“Smart and humble, eh?” He joked, his grin wide. “I like you, kid.”
Ichigo shot him an unimpressed look before turning back to Aizen.
“How did you even get past the guards?” she asked, crossing her arms with narrowed eyes. “The whole compound is currently under a controlled lockdown.”
Before he could answer, the double doors to the innermost courtroom swung open, and members of the Central 46 began pouring out.
The deliberation was finally over.
A few of the elders nodded politely in greeting as they passed, while others looked particularly livid, and Ichigo quickly reached out to pull Aizen behind her, hiding him from view.
“Enji, you’re still here?”
She turned to see a familiar old man approach them, and she lowered her head in respect.
The Shiba Clan had three seats in the Central 46, consisting of two sages and one judge. They rarely came back to the family estate, and lived surprisingly isolated lives within the compound.
“Has a verdict been reached?” Enji asked calmly.
The old judge grunted softly before reaching out to pat Enji’s shoulder. “You were quite careless this time, however, a judgement was passed, and the Sumida Clan will face their dues.”
She and Enji exchanged looks of pleasant surprise and smiled.
“You’ve worked hard these past few days,” Enji said solemnly.
“Let us speak over this at a later date,” the old man replied. “I haven’t seen your sons in many years. It’s time I visit the manor again.”
Ichigo watched as Enji nodded in agreement, offering to escort the Shiba Elder back to the Seijōtōkyorin, when she felt a presence behind her.
“Shiba Ichigo— or do you prefer Kurosaki?”
She turned around, recognizing the face of Tsunayashiro Atsumori as he approached with a soft smile.
“Tsunayashiro-san,” she muttered, barely nodding her head to greet him. “The first is bestowed by law, and the latter is kept by choice. Either name is acceptable.”
“Oh?” His smile widened. “Then please speak casually with me as well. How could I be rude to the one who inherited my legacy?”
Ichigo felt her eyes twitch. She remembered what the Fifth Division looked like when this man left it in shambles, and now he was considering the squad's current reputation as his own.
“There’s been many changes to the Fifth Division since you left,” she said with an equally fake smile. “I’m afraid I’ve made your legacy unrecognisable.”
“Yes,” he drawled, eyes narrowing every so slightly. “I’ve heard many tales of your daring methods. I must admit, I admire your boldness.”
“Such praise is wasted on me,” she said, crinkling her eyes. “After all, I’m only doing my job.”
The job that you didn’t do properly.
“Just your job?” He repeated, seemingly amused. “I didn’t know that abandoning your duties as captain and personally chasing criminals was part of your duty.”
Ichigo retained her smile, fighting the urge to punch his smug face. “It’s the duty of a captain to maintain peace in Seireitei. Perhaps you’ve forgotten about that part after becoming a sage.”
Atsumori chuckled, his eyes flashing with a sharp light. “I only meant to offer you some counsel, Kurosaki-taichō. The matters of the Gotei 13 are incomparable to the Central 46’s province.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said blandly.
He, too, dropped his smile.
“There are consequences for overstepping your boundaries,” he said with a low voice. “And I don’t know if it's a price you can afford to pay.”
Ichigo met his gaze squarely, undeterred by his thinly veiled threat. “I’m sure I’ll be able to handle it.”
Atsumori smirked. “I look forward to it then.”
With that, he walked past her without another glance, and Ichigo scowled at his retreating back.
“Slimy bastard,” she muttered under her breath.
“Agreed.”
Ichigo swivelled around in surprise to see Aizen still standing behind her, his large brown eyes staring unwaveringly towards her own.
She had completely forgotten about him.
“What are you still doing here?” She demanded. “Didn’t you leave with the guard?”
Aizen blinked widely. “Why would I leave with him? Aren’t you my captain?”
Ichigo faltered, realising that she was in fact, Aizen’s direct superior.
“Nevermind,” she said tiredly, waving her hand. “Let’s hurry back. You shouldn’t have been here in the first place.”
Grabbing a hold of Aizen’s arm, Ichigo walked briskly, ready to finally leave the Central 46 Compound with no plans to return. If she had it her way, she’d overthrow the entire judiciary and dump the responsibilities onto Yamamoto’s division, so that she’d never have to come back to this dreary place again.
A striking sunset greeted her the moment she stepped out of the building, and Ichigo sighed happily, feeling her spirits lift.
“Kurosaki-taichō, that man from earlier—”
Ichigo turned on him with a scowl. “Forget it. You saw nothing and heard nothing. Don’t ever step into the Central 46 Compound again, understand? You’re lucky no one charged you for trespassing.”
Aizen nodded obediently, looking unsurprised. “Yes.”
She stared at him for a silent moment, wondering how much she could trust him. “Why were you looking for me anyway?”
He glanced away, seemingly embarrassed. “I’ve had a headache since yesterday.”
Ichigo paused, feeling a twinge of guilt at the reminder of his chronic condition, and inwardly sighed. “Let’s go then. I’ll treat you back at my office.”
Aizen smiled and dutifully followed behind her.
“Yes, taichō.”
Shinji didn’t believe in a god, and even if he did, it certainly wouldn’t be a benevolent one.
Otherwise, how could he be so unlucky in his life?
Having taken a rare night off from work, Shinji returned late the next morning to the news that Captain Kurosaki had returned.
“She arrived yesterday evening, only an hour after you left the barracks,” Nagayama said with a wry smile. “I told her you took the day off.”
Feeling rather embarrassed, Shinji ran towards her office without another word and yanked the door open.
“Kurosaki-taichō! I—”
He froze in the doorway, seeing six pairs of eyes look up at him.
His attention first went to Captain Kurosaki, who was sitting at her desk behind a tall stack of papers. Sprawled out on an adjacent table, was the Shihōin Princess, whom Shinji had met a few months ago while she was visiting the Fifth Division with another boy.
He turned to see the other boy in question— Urahara Kisuke, if he remembered correctly— sitting across from Sōsuke with a shogi board between them.
To top it all off, there were two more unfamiliar kids sitting on the lush carpet, in the middle of a sugoroku game.
One was a boy who looked to be around Sōsuke’s age, while the other was a girl, who was clearly a few decades older, but not yet an adult.
“Oh, Shinji, you’re here,” Captain Kurosaki greeted. “You could have taken the rest of the morning off, you know?”
He stared around the office, feeling bewildered by all the people inside.
“Um, what’s— I mean—” He muttered, blinking quickly. “You’re finally back?”
Kurosaki smiled warmly. “I’m back. Thanks for taking good care of the squad while I was out.”
Shinji blushed, feeling awkward from the praise.
Truthfully, Captain Kurosaki was always ahead of the paperwork and led the division in an organised manner. There wouldn’t have been much to worry about even if she went missing for ten weeks, much less ten days.
“It was nothing,” he said honestly, glancing around at the visitors. “Is there… something happening today?”
“It seems to be everyone's day off,” she said offhandedly, sliding over a finished report. “You remember Yoruichi and Kisuke, right?”
Shinji nodded as the blonde gave him a friendly nod. The Shihōin princess on the other hand, ignored him entirely, seemingly engrossed with a small toy in her hands.
“And these two…” he trailed off, looking at the ones sitting on the ground.
“This is Azashiro Sumi, and her younger brother, Azashiro Sōya,” she introduced, before turning to the siblings and gesturing to him. “And this is my third seat, Hirako Shinji.”
Shinji stared at the two, momentarily speechless by the revelation of their identities.
He had been eating dinner at a teahouse yesterday when the news broke— the Central 46 sent notice of a wrongful conviction, and overturned their previous judgement on the Azashiro Clan.
Except, the repeal was announced hours after the Azashiro Clan were all executed in the Spirit Sealing Pit.
Shinji still didn’t know the full story of why or how the turnover came to be, but it was obvious that something had happened during the execution.
How else could there be any survivors?
Azashiro Sumi stood on her feet and bowed, her posture perfect and noble. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Hirako-san.”
Feeling caught off guard, he stammered slightly. “Y-You don’t need to bow so deeply.”
“I greatly respect the Shinigami of the Gotei 13,” Sumi said with a sad smile. “It’s been a dream of mine to become one as well.”
“Oh,” he said shyly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, it’s never too late to join.”
As if she had been waiting for him to say such a thing, the young girl turned to Captain Kurosaki with wide, pleading eyes.
Kurosaki sighed, lowering her brush. “There’s no need to repay me with your own life. Being a shinigami is dangerous work.”
“I can do it,” the girl insisted. “Even before my family was implicated, I made a vow to become stronger and renew the pride of my clan.”
“M-Me too!” The boy also jumped to his feet. “I want to be a Shinigami too!”
Captain Kurosaki frowned slightly. “The situation is still uncertain, and I’m concerned about any sort of retaliation if you two associate yourselves with me.”
Tears welled in the girl's eyes. “But, Kurosaki-sama…”
“Alright, don’t cry,” she chided softly, seemingly giving in. “If you really want to join the Fifth, I won’t stop you, but you should consider going to the Academy first.”
Shinji froze. He clearly hadn’t said anything about joining the Fifth Division in particular. He had enough competition as it was.
The girl quickly composed herself and nodded enthusiastically. “I will! I won’t disappoint you!”
He watched in silent horror as the girl stood beside his captain and outright preened in joy.
“Aha! Checkmate!”
Surprised by the sudden voice, Shinji looked over to see Urahara Kisuke partially standing in his seat, a mischievous smile across his face as he stared at the shogi board.
Sōsuke on the other hand, looked downright murderous.
“Distracted much?” Urahara asked teasingly. “You almost had me earlier too.”
“You think too highly of yourself,” Sōsuke retorted with a huff.
His glare then fell on Shinji, and the blonde met his gaze with a bewildered look of his own.
Why was it suddenly his fault that he lost?
“Finally!” Yoruichi sat up, eyes bright. “It’s been two hours! It’s time for tag!”
She jumped off the table and pounced on Captain Kurosaki’s shoulders like a cat, a playful expression on her face.
“Me and Ichigo-nee versus you and Aizen!” she declared. “No Kidō allowed!”
Urahara crossed his arms and frowned. “You can’t take nee-san and Kidō!”
“Too bad,” Yoruichi stuck her tongue out. “You said I could make the rules since the shogi game went first.”
Sōsuke gave Urahara a deeply unimpressed look. “I’m stuck with him?!”
Urahara laughed nervously. “My hohō is pretty good, you know?”
“Whatever.”
“Sōya and I will watch!” Sumi said excitedly, quickly cleaning up their sugoroku game and putting it aside.
“Let’s go!” Yoruichi impatiently pulled on Captain Kurosaki’s arm.
“Yes, yes, I’m ready,” she said good naturedly, getting up from her desk.
Shinji watched as the group slowly filed out of the office and headed towards the training ground. The Shihōin princess was still hanging onto Captain Kurosaki’s back, while Souske and Urahara walked on her right, leaving the two Azashiro children to stick on her left.
“Shinji?” She called over her shoulder. “You coming?”
He hesitated for a moment.
From the day he was transferred to the Fifth Division, Shinji wanted to portray himself as a mature and responsible subordinate. Being one of the youngest members yet holding the third highest position within a squad came with a lot of pressure.
Never would he have dared to play games in Captain Kurosaki’s office, much less ask her to play with him.
Now it was her asking instead.
Before his mind could sort out the sudden dilemma, his feet moved first, running after the group before he could lose sight of them.
“Wait for me!”
Notes:
So much happened in this chapter, but I'm happy to end it with some light-hearted fluff 🥰 Ichigo's gaggle of children has grown again hehe.
I've never written political intrigue or drama before so I hope this read smoothly. Our girl is finally learning the art of fighting with her words instead of her fists. We're coming up on our next big time skip soon, but I wanted to touch on a few more things before then so hang tight! 😊
Chapter 15
Notes:
So life carried me away for a hot sec, but I made it back 😅 Thank you for all the comments and kudos from last chapter! More excuses in the end note, but for now, hope you you enjoy the chapter!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
A few days after Ichigo returned to the Fifth Division, the monthly Ranking Trial took place. Shinji supervised the event as usual, while she decided to spectate the match as a silent observer.
When Aizen’s turn came around, she was surprised to see that he didn’t try releasing Kyōka Suigetsu in front of her.
She had been prepared to test the limits of her immunity against his shikai, but found the results anticlimactic.
In the end, Aizen overpowered his opponent through Kidō alone, and smoothly advanced to a 19th Seat.
She had no doubt that he would plough his way through the rest of the lower ranked seats and end up right beside Shinji within a few years.
Ichigo had no real reason to withhold his promotions either, as Aizen didn't bother to hide his genius this time around.
When she returned to her office, ready to spend the rest of the afternoon finalising the promotions, the towering figure of Ōmaeda Mareno appeared under her doorway.
“Kurosaki-taichō!” He greeted loudly, a wide grin on his face.
“Ōmaeda,” she regarded him with mild surprise, noting the report in his hand. “Since when did you get reduced to a messenger pigeon?”
“A pigeon?” He repeated in outrage, puffing his chest. “I’m at least a hawk!”
As the Second Division’s Lieutenant, Ōmaeda was undoubtedly fast when he needed to be, but Ichigo also knew how inherently lazy the man was.
“Yes, of course,” she drawled, reaching out to receive the report. “Is this from the coroner’s office?”
Ichigo wasn’t a suspicious person by nature, but she couldn’t help but feel that there was something unusual about the recent assassination of Tsunayashiro Naritane and his son.
Those seeking to eliminate members of the Central 46 almost always did so when the sages left the protection of the underground compound, which is why most choose to live inside the Seijōtōkyorin all year-round.
To kill a sage inside the Daireishokairō, was an aggressively bold move most assassins wouldn’t even dare to consider.
Due to the recent political struggle, suspicion naturally fell on the Shiba Clan, and she was interested in seeing who would benefit from the situation.
“The autopsy was straightforward,” Ōmaeda said, turning serious. “Tsunayashiro Naritane and Tsunayashiro Nagasue were both killed by the same weapon, and their time of death was nearly identical.”
Ichigo scanned through the report and stared down at the simple illustration. “No other relevant wounds or lingering traces of Kidō?”
“Nothing of note,” he shook his head. “Based on the angle of injury however, the coroner concluded that the perpetrator attacked from the front, was right-handed, and shorter than both of the victims.”
She pursed her lips in thought before raising her gaze. “What about the current suspect?”
Ōmaeda handed her another report from his sleeve. “The interrogation was finished last night. He, of course, denied all charges.”
Ichigo flipped through the pages, taking in the new information.
The suspect in question was a man named Atagi, who was a servant under the Tsunayashiro Clan’s second branch, and was recently employed as a library assistant inside the Daireishokairō.
He was found at the bottom of the archive tower among the corpses of his two masters, and was naturally taken into custody.
“Do you believe him?” Ichigo asked, raising a brow.
Ōmaeda snorted. “He’s not the one who performed the killing blow, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t have connections to the one who did.”
“How are you certain?”
“Atagi doesn’t even have a zanpakutō, and he was never trained in combat because of his weak spiritual base,” Ōmaeda explained, shrugging. “It’s impossible for him to have done this alone.”
Based on the difference in strength, Ichigo agreed.
Two hundred years ago, Tsunayashiro Naritane was the Lieutenant of the Third Division, and his son, although never having joined the Gotei 13, was rumoured to be just as talented.
To sneak into Daireishokairō, assassinate a sage and his son in a matter of seconds without alerting the guards, then escape without notice— the culprit was clearly a powerful individual.
“What is this?” Ichigo asked, pointing to one of the notes from the coroner. “Little to no signs of struggle on their bodies?”
Ōmaeda’s eyes widened, as if just remembering. “That was the strange thing— they had no blood on their hands or anywhere other than the site of injury. It was as if they both got stabbed and just stood there in a trance.”
A sudden feeling of unease rolled down her spine, and Ichigo stared blankly at the report on her desk.
No way.
“But it doesn’t make sense,” Ōmaeda said offhandedly, looking unconvinced. “How could anyone not react when getting stabbed? I suspect a forbidden Kidō of sorts to be at play here.”
Ichigo folded her hands together and inwardly sighed.
While she immediately thought of Kyōka Suigetsu’s abilities when presented with the report, there was no reasonable argument as for why.
Aizen had massacred the Central 46 in order to carry out his plans for the Hōgyoku, but as a child, having just become a Shinigami— she couldn’t think of a proper motive at all.
He had no connection to the Tsunayashiro Clan, the Sages, or any member of the Central 46 for that matter.
Had Aizen been an adult, she would have pinned the suspicion on him without hesitation, knowing the extent of his true power when paired with his ruthless nature.
But right now— he was just a boy.
“…I see,” Ichigo murmured, slowly closing the report. “Thanks for delivering this to me. I’ll follow up with Shihōin-taichō if I have any further requests.”
“The Detention Unit is open if you want to personally make a visit too,” Ōmaeda added, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sure that brat Kisuke would be more than willing to give you a tour.”
Ichigo cracked a small smile. “Speaking of, delivering reports from the medical examiner should have been a part of Kisuke’s job, and yet here you are—“
Ōmaeda choked loudly.
“—you’re not here to bother my Ninth Seat again, are you?” Ichigo asked, crinkling her eyes with a cold smile. “She’s been quite busy these days.”
“O-Of course not, Kurosaki-taichō!” He laughed nervously, expertly shuffling closer to the door. “I was just in the neighbourhood and now— look at the time— I’ll be on my way out!”
Giving her a hurried bow, he opened the door and disappeared in a lightning fast shunpo step, truly living up to his position as the Onmitsukidō’s second-in-command.
Ichigo snorted softly, then locked eyes with another figure under the doorway.
Standing behind the spot Ōmaeda had just disappeared from, was Aizen, looking startled by the sudden exit, with his hand frozen halfway in the air.
“Was that Ōmaeda-fukutaichō just now?” He asked, looking off into the distance.
Ichigo blinked back her surprise and discreetly moved the reports into a drawer. “He was just delivering some paperwork.”
“Is there anything I can help with?” He asked smoothly, stepping inside the office.
“Actually, I was just finishing up,” she said casually. “If your duties are done for the day, you should enjoy the free time.”
He didn’t seem deterred and approached her desk with wide, hopeful eyes. “In that case, could I do some training here?”
“In my office?” She asked, raising a brow.
Aizen lowered his gaze, as if abashed. “I’ve hit a roadblock in my bankai training, but I think being with you will help.”
Ichigo immediately understood his intentions, knowing the truth about his condition.
He wasn’t asking for the office— he was asking for her.
Even if he didn’t know it himself, his subconscious had drawn him towards the remaining half of his power; or the closest thing possible.
“Let’s spare my office,” Ichigo said evenly, getting up from her seat. “I’ll show you a better spot.”
Aizen nodded quickly in agreement, as if she would suddenly back out on accompanying him. “Of course!”
In most cases, bankai training started with intense meditation in order to manifest one’s zanpakutō spirit into the real world and subdue it. The mediation alone took an average of ten years, but Ichigo refused to take any chances when it came to Aizen’s rapid development.
A fight of dominance between him and his zanpakutō would absolutely wreck the Fifth Division barracks.
Grabbing Zangetsu off the back wall, she slung it over her shoulder and stepped around her desk, stopping beside Aizen to briefly stare at him.
“Aizen,” she called gently, neither hurried nor languid.
Eyes bright and head perked, he met her gaze openly, looking very much like a happy child. “Yes, taichō?”
The conversation with Ōmaeda weighed heavily on her mind, and Ichigo looked at him silently, trying to determine his guilt or innocence.
Did you do it?
The question remained at the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t find it in herself to accuse him of such a serious crime.
What if he had nothing to do with the incident at all, and she had been overthinking the entire thing?
It would undoubtedly leave an emotional scar if she blamed him based on a hunch, and he would grow up more distrustful than ever.
Overseeing his training would at least give her an opportunity to gauge his strength, and determine if he was even capable of such a high stakes assassination.
Ichigo slowly reached out and ruffled his head, deciding to let the matter go for now.
“You did well in the ranking trials today,” she said instead.
His eyes widened, clearly surprised by the sudden praise, then lowered his face with pink cheeks.
“Thank you,” he murmured.
Ichigo smiled softly and turned to leave the office, gesturing for Aizen to follow.
She was probably wrong about the incident anyway.
…probably.
Supervising Aizen’s bankai training was far less of an exciting task than Ichigo had anticipated.
She didn’t have Kisuke’s fancy contraption, and could only sit across from Aizen as he deeply meditated in jinzen under a large tree.
His reiatsu would occasionally flare out, but Ichigo had chosen a remote training ground in the outskirts of Seireitei, and set up Kidō barriers to block any potential mishaps.
Now, the only thing left to do was wait.
She was admittedly curious about his bankai, wondering what sort of ability would manifest for such a powerful Shinigami.
Ichigo didn’t know what was better than complete hypnosis, but figured that it wasn’t a simple matter for him to not use it once in any of their battles.
Before she could speculate any ideas, the world twisted away, and within a single blink, Ichigo suddenly found herself under a different blue sky.
She was no longer sitting on the soft grass, but along the side of a skyscraper, and across from her, Aizen had changed from a boy into a man.
“What the… ” she trailed off, shocked by the abrupt change in scenery. “Did you bring me here?”
Compared to the last two times she had been forcibly dragged into her inner world, it had felt significantly smoother.
Aizen raised his head and regarded her with an expression of mild surprise.
“I did not,” he said at last.
She glanced down, noticing that he was sitting so close to her, their knees were nearly touching.
She moved to get up, wanting to create some space, when Aizen reached out and quickly pinned her in place.
“Hold still,” he ordered.
Ichigo actually froze, caught off guard by the way his hands pressed down against her inner thighs.
“What are you doing?” She asked hastily, feeling strangely flustered.
Aizen closed his eyes, as if mirroring the meditation posture of his younger self, and against her better judgement, Ichigo didn’t interrupt him.
“How curious,” he said softly. “The physical proximity in combination with the active attempts at manifestation, have brought me closer to the surface of your conscious.”
“Which means?” Ichigo said impatiently.
Aizen slowly opened his eyes. “We’re somewhere in between the domain of your inner world and the outside world.”
She stared at him silently, not quite understanding the full scope of such a concept, but unwilling to ask for further clarification.
Aizen may have been an absolute psychopath, but he was also the biggest nerd Ichigo had ever met, and she had learnt the lesson the hard way after asking him to explain the scientific structure of a soul.
“Are you done?” She asked linstead, staring down at his annoyingly long limbs.
Without removing his hands, Aizen leaned forward with a mischievous smile. “Would you keep sitting there obediently if I said no?”
Recognizing his teasing tone, Ichigo pushed him away with a glare and got to her feet.
“I’m leaving,” she muttered, quickly composing herself.
Aizen rested his chin on his palm and tilted his head. “Don’t you have something to ask me first?”
Ichigo paused, recalling her conflicting thoughts from earlier in the day, and knowing he was right, she slowly sat back down.
“Fine,” she huffed, crossing her arms. “I need to know if you sensed your younger self within the three days I was going in and out of the Central 46 Compound.”
The timing of the assassination was critical. She didn’t know about the son, but Tsunayashiro Naritane was last seen in the Assembly Hall before making his way to the Daireishokairō in the evening.
Ichigo and Enji had hung around for hours after the initial deliberation had ended, which meant that she was also in the compound when the assassination likely happened.
Unfortunately for her, she was under layers of Kidō barriers and protective Sekkiseki, which greatly muffled her senses.
“I must admit, I did not pay attention to your activities these past few weeks,” he said, looking curious. “What has that boy done now?”
She grimaced in disappointment. “I’m trying to figure out if he had anything to do with the recent assassination of a sage.”
He smirked. “If you’re already suspicious, then he’s likely guilty.”
“I’m only suspicious because I know about your zanpakutō’s abilities,” she said bluntly. “I can’t think of a proper motive, and of course, there’s no evidence.”
“The fact that there’s no evidence is telling enough,” he said with a wry smile. “Did you expect him to parade his presence around?”
“That’s why I asked you,” she pointed out, grumbling under her breath.
Aizen quieted for a moment before responding. “And here I thought you would ask about my bankai.”
Ichigo regarded him with raised brows and joked. “Do you even have one?”
Aizen looked thoroughly insulted by such a question. “Have one?” He repeated scathingly. “I obtained bankai in a single day while my peers were still fumbling around to learn basic zanjutsu.”
Her jaw slacked in surprise, wondering for a brief moment if she had heard wrong, but as absurd as the notion was, Ichigo believed him.
“…How?” She asked with genuine interest.
It had taken her a little over two days to learn bankai, but she had used the Tenshintai to forcibly summon Zangetsu into the real world.
“I’ve been able to communicate with Kyōka Suigetsu since I was a child,” he said simply. “After I joined the Academy and received an asauchi, I took a day trip to a remote district in Rukongai and finished my bankai training by the next morning.”
Ichigo felt a short laugh of disbelief escape her throat. “That easy, huh?”
Aizen smirked. “Did you perhaps underestimate the extent of my genius?”
“Then why have you never used it?” She countered.
At this, his eyes darkened. “Because I swore to master my shikai so thoroughly that I would have no need for a bankai.”
“Why?” She pressed. “Was it that you didn’t want to use it, or that you couldn’t?”
Aizen gave her a long look before replying. “Both.”
Surprised by his sudden honesty, Ichigo quieted, unsure if she should keep digging for an explanation or respect his space.
“You’ll know the truth soon enough,” he said vaguely, looking off into the distance.
She smiled blandly. “If you’re referring to your younger self, I don’t think he’ll end up learning bankai quite as fast as you did.”
“Of course not,” Aizen agreed. “I had over a hundred years of experience before joining the Academy. The boy is still young, and his path undoubtedly differs from mine.”
A long lapse of silence settled between them as Ichigo contemplated the new information.
She was still curious about the limitations of his bankai, but knew one thing for certain. As much as she liked to joke about his god complex, there was truly no one else like him.
“Ichigo.”
She looked up, noting something heavy lingering in his gaze.
“What will you do, if the boy is guilty?” He asked.
It took her a moment to figure out that he was referring to the assassination, and Ichigo felt dumbstruck by the realisation.
Truthfully, she hadn’t thought that far ahead, but there were only two logical avenues.
If she reported him, he would be taken into custody, put under trial by the Central 46, then promptly sentenced to execution or life imprisonment.
Or, she could turn a blind eye to his crimes.
While the idea didn’t sit right with her conscience, it wasn't wholly deplorable, and that made it all the more alarming.
“Time is up,” Aizen said suddenly, reaching out to graze his fingers along her forehead. “Think carefully—“
“Kurosaki-taichō?”
Ichigo blinked and the world snapped into place, returning her to the training ground. Aizen’s younger self was standing in front of her, his small hand outstretched towards her shoulder as if he had been about to shake her.
“Taichō,” He said again, pouting slightly. “Did you fall asleep?”
“No,” she muttered with a sigh, feeling a sudden sense of exhaustion. “How did it go?”
“It went well,” he said brightly, nodding excitedly. “I was able to fully connect with my zanpakutō and the manifestation felt clearer than before.”
Unsurprised by his rapid progress, Ichigo reached out to pat his head. “Good job, Aizen.”
He sank into her touch, then slowly peeked at her from under his bangs. “Taichō?”
“Yes?”
“If I manage to learn bankai, will you promise me something?” He asked quietly.
Somewhat amused by his desire for a prize, Ichigo rested her jaw against her hand and smiled. “What do you want?”
His cheeks reddened and he stared down at his feet, as if he was unable to meet her eyes.
“…Will you call me by name too?”
Ichigo froze, feeling her face morph into an expression of panicked realisation.
She called nearly everyone by their first name, barring the older captains and a few elders out of sheer respect. Within the Fifth Division, it must have been plainly obvious to Aizen that he was being treated differently, even though Ichigo hadn’t thought much of it.
To her, Aizen had always been Aizen.
However, there was clearly a distinction between the two.
The man living in her soul was Aizen. He was the one who orchestrated her entire life, declared war on Soul Society and harmed the lives of so many people.
The boy standing in front of her, who was nervously fidgeting under her gaze, barely taller than his own zanpakutō and displaying the clear desire for connection— was not the same Aizen.
At least, not yet.
“You don’t need to earn your own name,” she said resolutely, getting to her feet. “So choose something else.”
He looked utterly dejected for a split second before his expression settled into one of confusion, and he finally raised his head.
Ichigo grinned and playfully poked his forehead. “Come along, Sōsuke.”
His eyes widened and a smile immediately bloomed across his cheeks as he leapt to her side.
“Yes, taichō!”
The next few months passed quickly, and before Ichigo knew it, the cool breeze of spring was replaced by the sweltering heat.
She had hoped that time would help smooth out the political atmosphere, but tensions remained high between the noble factions.
After the initial conviction, it had taken the Central 46 another two months of deliberation before they finally decided on the Sumida Clan’s fate.
Sumida Ujiha, as head of the family, would be executed on the solstice.
All of the trained soldiers and shinigami under his command were stripped of their powers and sentenced to life imprisonment in the fourth level.
The clan would be removed from the noble registry, and the remaining civilians would be banished from Seireitei.
Ichigo found it laughable, that they had ordered the Azashiro’s execution within two weeks, yet they struggled to pin down a judgement on the Sumida Clan for nearly two months.
Halfway through the deliberation, Enji’s appeal to cease executions in the Spirit Sealing Pit passed with a majority vote, and Ichigo was happy to see that at least something good had come from the tragedy.
A month after their rescue, the Azashiro siblings were safely enrolled into the Academy, and although Ichigo had insisted that the Gotei 13 weren’t lacking Shinigami, the two had promised to graduate as soon as possible.
And who was she to deny their enthusiasm?
On the day of the summer solstice, Ichigo made her way to Sōkyoku Hill with Enji, arriving just as the Kidō Corps began setting up the execution.
“You really don’t have to be here, Ichigo,” he said in a low tone.
Captains were only required to attend executions if the criminal was a Shinigami of the Gotei. As Sumida Ujiha was a nobleman, Enji’s presence would have been enough as a delegate of the Shiba Clan.
“Taisei isn’t here, so who else is gonna keep you company?” She asked with a teasing smile.
“You’re right,” he said straight faced. “I need at least one buffer between me and Kuchiki.”
“Onee-san!”
Ichigo glanced towards the familiar voice to see Sōjun waving at her from behind his father.
She greeted Ginrei first before crouching down and ruffling Sōjun’s head.
“What are you doing here?” She demanded softly. “This is an execution.”
“I know!” Sōjun insisted, crossing his arms. “I’m here to see justice delivered!”
Ichigo glanced up at Ginrei, noting the tired look on his face. It was obvious the two had a long talk about the matter, and she was surprised to see that he had given in.
“Sōjun,” she said seriously, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Are you being good?”
“Okay, fine,” he mumbled, lowering his head in defeat. “I didn’t want to do my paperwork.”
She fought to keep herself from laughing and smiled. “What paperwork? You just started this year and you’re already complaining?”
After graduating, Sōjun had entered the Sixth Division as a Tenth Seat, and while a few people had gossiped about the power of nepotism, Ichigo knew how talented the boy really was.
“Nee-san, if I request a transfer to your division, will you accept me?” He asked, blinking innocently.
She flicked his forehead. “Your father will never allow it.”
Ginrei cleared his throat from behind her.
“And neither will I,” she added, not missing a beat. “Besides, my division has more paperwork.”
Sōjun slumped pitifully.
“You’ll get used to it,” Ichigo said encouragingly, patting his back.
“Stand up straight, Sōjun,” Ginrei rebuked softly, his eyes focused ahead. “The execution is starting.”
Taking her cue, Ichigo returned to Enji’s side, noticing the large crowd of nobles that had gathered around them.
In the middle of the hill, Sumida Ujiha was kneeling on a raised platform, surrounded by members of the Kidō Corps and the Onmitsukidō.
She spotted Yahiko standing off to the side, occasionally giving orders, while a special executioner from the Central 46 stepped onto the stage.
Although the execution was taking place on Sōkyoku Hill, the Sōkyoku itself wasn’t being used, as it was deemed too severe of a punishment.
“Shiba Ichigo!”
She glanced up, surprised to hear her name being called, and noticed the executioner beckon her from across the grounds.
“Did he just call me?” She asked quietly, looking at Enji in confusion.
“Sumida must want to speak to you,” he said with narrowed eyes. “Be careful with that snake.”
Hiding her uncertainty, Ichigo walked towards the central platform, stopping a short distance away to observe the pair.
The executioner was covered from head to toe in black robes, leaving only a small slit of space for his eyes. Strapped onto his back, was a sacred blade that the Central 46 used for mid-level executions.
Sumida Ujiha was in a simple white robe, much like the one Rukia had once worn, looking considerably more haggard than she remembered.
His gaze, however, remained firmly on her.
“You may speak your last words,” the executioner said evenly, before taking a few steps away.
Sumida didn’t waste any time.
“Be wise, and let this matter die with me,” he said quickly, voice raspy and low. “There is no glory in chasing justice for the bodies long gone.”
Ichigo cocked her head and met his eyes unflinchingly. “You think I did it for the glory?”
“It doesn’t matter what you did it for, or why,” he replied. “If you keep digging, you won’t come out of it alive.”
She leaned forward, expressionless. “Is that a threat?”
To her surprise, Sumida smiled. “A warning.”
“Even after they abandoned you, your loyalty to the Tsunayashiro is still truly impressive,” she said quietly. “Why bother saying all this to me?”
“You misunderstand,” he said calmly. “I have a great deal of respect for you, Kurosaki Ichigo. Your life is not one that should end quietly.”
She paused, realising the implications of his words.
While Ichigo didn’t worry about getting assassinated in the dead of night, having an active target on her back would certainly give her more headaches than peace.
However, why would Sumida Ujiha care to warn her?
“We’re finished,” Sumida said, raising his voice.
Before she could process his words, the executioner returned and Ichigo had no choice but to step away as the Kidō Corps quickly surrounded the platform.
Ropes sprang from the ground and wrapped around Sumida’s arms and neck, leaving his chest exposed as the executioner unsheathed his blade.
The weapon was considered to be a sacred treasure, capable of scattering the victim’s soul upon piercing their Saketsu and Hakusui. Unlike the Sōkyoku, which completely vaporised the soul, the imposed method would allow Sumida Ujiha to reincarnate.
Returning to her spot beside Enji, Ichigo watched in silence as the executioner readied his stance, and at the sound of a bell, moved forward with an expertly performed Senka , stabbing Sumida twice through the chest.
There was a beat of stillness as Sumida raised his face towards the sky, as if taking one final look, then his body burst into tiny particles of reishi and drifted away in the wind like stardust.
Within a blink, it was all over.
The cleanup after the execution was quiet and subdued, and Ichigo had a quick conversation with Ginrei and Enji regarding Sumida Ujiha’s last words before deciding to simply remain vigilant.
Regardless of his warnings, she knew that their cold war with the Tsunayashiro Clan was far from over.
“Ichigo!”
She turned to see Yahiko approach her side with a small report in hand.
“I thought you might be interested in this,” he said with an expectant look. “The case is officially closed.”
Realising that it was about the assassination, Ichigo raised her brows and took the scroll. “What happened to the servant under custody?”
“Released due to a lack of evidence,” he replied with a small shrug. “The case is now inactive unless new material is discovered.”
She inwardly sighed and nodded. She still didn’t know if Sōsuke had anything to do with the incident, but at this point, it was all water under the bridge.
“By the way, have you seen my kids recently?”
Ichigo frowned slightly, trying to think back on when she last saw Yoruichi’s mischievous face.
“It’s been a few weeks,” she said honestly. “She hasn’t come by the Fifth as far as I’m aware.”
Yahiko sighed tiredly. “She and Kisuke have been hiding somewhere almost every day for the past month. I’d be impressed if I wasn’t more concerned about what they’re secretly up to.”
A sudden memory flickered to the forefront of her mind, and Ichigo slowly looked down, imagining the giant cavern underneath Sōkyoku Hill.
“I’ll keep my eye out,” she said at last.
Clapping her shoulder in thanks, Yahiko gave her a cordial nod before departing with the Onmitsukidō guards, and Ichigo glanced around the nearly empty hill before letting her feet take her towards the side of the sheer cliff.
Making sure no one was following her, she jumped into a familiar cavern and squeezed down a small tunnel before reaching a dead end.
Or, what seemed like one.
She brushed past the illusory kidō, and crouched into a short underpass towards the opening on the other end, able to pick up on two familiar voices.
“— at this, Kisuke! It’s so uneven! You need to— Hey! Are you listening?!”
“...I think someone just slipped through my barrier.”
“What?” Yoruichi hissed, lowering her voice. “Who is it?”
“I don’t know. I can’t feel their reiatsu.”
Knowing she was caught, Ichigo stuck her head out into the light, spotting Yoruichi and Kisuke standing around a large hole.
“Looking for me?” she said with a smile.
They jumped simultaneously and exclaimed in unison. “Nee-san!”
Ichigo approached the two with raised brows, and briefly glanced around the underground chamber. The construction was clearly still in progress, with the area being only half as big as she remembered.
“How did you find us?” Yoruichi demanded, stomping her feet.
Ichigo snorted in amusement. “You know there was an execution taking place just above your heads?”
Yoruichi shot Kisuke a baleful look. “Your bakudō sucks! We got discovered so easily!”
“I did it perfectly!” Kisuke argued back. “You know my kidō is better than yours!”
“What?!”
Ichigo quickly reached out, separating the two by the scruff of their necks before they could fight. In hindsight, the barrier was perfect, it was just unfortunately useless against her.
“Relax,” she ordered with a stern look. “I’m not going to tell anyone, so your secret is safe with me.”
She owed their future selves at least that much.
Yoruichi and Kisuke immediately calmed down, and glanced at her with wide eyes. “You won’t?”
“Of course,” she said easily, letting them go. “Being at home everyday can be stifling, so I understand— as long as nothing illegal or dangerous happens here.”
Yoruichi turned suspiciously blank faced while Kisuke looked anywhere but at her, and Ichigo inwardly sighed, already having a good guess as to what was on their minds.
Poor Yahiko.
The next twenty years of teenage rebellion were surely going to be the death of him.
When Ichigo decided to spend the next few weeks sleeping under the dusty winds of Hueco Mundo, the last thing she had expected was for Ulquiorra to take her on a scenic tour of the endless desert.
Although she didn’t think there was an assassin in Seireitei that could actually kill her, she had started to notice a few intruders around the Fifth Division, and made the executive decision to sleep away from the barracks. If any assassins did come around, they would find her bedroom empty and hopefully leave the other squad members alone.
Over the past few decades, Ichigo had mastered the art of travelling through the Garganta. All she had to do was hold her futon in one arm and her pillow in the other, and have the Descorrer open and close seamlessly around her as she moved from Soul Society to Hueco Mundo.
When morning came, she would simply return directly to her personal quarters, acting as if she had been inside the whole time.
The new routine had been working perfectly for the past few days, until Ichigo found herself rudely woken up in the middle of the night by Ulquiorra’s nagging voice.
“I found one,” he said insistently, poking her shoulder with his clawed hand.
“Found what?” She muttered, pressing her face into the futon. “It’s past midnight.”
“It’s always midnight here.”
Ichigo paused, realising he was right, but too tired to think of a comeback. She started to slowly drift back to sleep when Ulquiorra shook her again.
“I found one,” he said again, before pausing slightly. “A Vasto Lorde.”
That seemed to chase away any remnants of sleep, and Ichigo abruptly sat up to stare at him.
“You found another Vasto Lorde?” She repeated in shock.
Since she started visiting Hueco Mundo almost forty years ago, Ichigo hadn’t run into a single familiar face apart from Ulquiorra.
She had tried for years to find the traces of Nel or Grimmjow’s reiatsu, but her attempts had always led nowhere.
Perhaps they were still Gillian level hollows, not yet evolved, or possibly, they weren’t even born yet.
“Come,” he said simply.
Seeing no other option, Ichigo quickly rolled up her futon and grabbed her things before chasing after Ulquiorra’s retreating figure.
She found herself walking through the dunes of Hueco Mundo for nearly an hour, feeling like a lost tourist on a destination hike.
“Ulquiorra,” she called. “How far are we?”
He tilted his head as if to remember. “I saw them while flying over the western plains yesterday.”
The geography of Hueco Mundo was confusing at best, but even then, Ichigo realised that they had a lot of distance to cover.
“Why are we walking?” She demanded, feeling the urge to smack her head. “It’s going to take us days!”
Not waiting for his response, Ichigo secured her things before shifting into long shunpo steps, quickly running towards the western plains. Above her, Ulquiorra took flight, and she glared at his figure.
Even after all these years, he was still so bad at communication.
They travelled for another three hours, with Ulquiorra taking the lead, when Ichigo began to notice something strange.
Littered across the sand, were the bodies of dead Hollows, ranging in all shapes and sizes.
While the fact itself wasn’t unusual, the corpses remained clean and untouched, as if they had dropped dead without a fight, and no other Hollows were around to scavenge their bodies.
Then she felt it.
A thick blanket of reiatsu pressed against the edge of her senses, and Ichigo was instantly reminded of the day she first met Kenpachi.
She couldn’t sense any bloodlust in the air, but the reiatsu felt remarkably heavy— yet unrecognisable.
Ichigo had direct contact with four out of the ten Espada, and only knew the rest by name thanks to Aizen, but she couldn’t imagine any of them being this powerful.
Retracting his wings, Ulquiorra landed softly beside her and stared into the distance. “We’re here.”
Ichigo smiled wryly. “I can tell.”
They followed the trail of dead Hollows for another hour, with the piles of corpses growing larger and larger, until she finally spotted a lone figure sitting on the dunes.
“Did you two make contact yesterday?” She asked quietly, turning to check on Ulquiorra.
He shook his head wordlessly.
“Then you stay here for now,” she ordered. “Two on one might give the wrong impression.”
Leaving Ulquiorra next to a small pile of corpses, Ichigo made her way towards the unknown Vasto Lorde with careful steps.
There was no sense of killing intent, which gave her hope for a peaceful encounter, but she could never be too certain.
Just as she drew closer, the Hollow raised its head, and Ichigo was struck by how human he looked.
A tall male figure sat against a sloped dune, with one arm resting over his knee. His back and shoulders were draped under a cloak of grey fur, and a long, wolf-like Hollow mask covered his face and neck. His limbs were partially encased in bone white guards, but his hands and feet looked distinctly human.
If it wasn’t for the obvious hollow hole going through his chest, Ichigo would have thought she was looking at one of the Visored.
For a moment, the two just stared at each other in silence.
“What are you?” He finally asked.
His voice was steady and deep, clearly unbothered by her sudden appearance. Either he didn’t see her as a threat, or he simply didn’t care.
Ichigo smiled slightly, amused that he would ask what she was, and not who she was.
“I’m a Shinigami,” she said jokingly, gesturing to her shihakushō. “Can’t you tell?”
The Vasto Lorde remained unmoving, and behind the shadow of his hollow mask, she saw a flicker of grey eyes.
“You look like one, but my intuition tells me you’re something else entirely,” he said bluntly.
Ichigo paused, surprised by his keen observation. “How so?”
“I can sense the one hiding behind you, but I can’t entirely sense you,” he concluded. “What do you want with me?”
Ichigo glanced over her shoulder to where Ulquiorra was waiting, and waved him over, seeing as his presence was already noted.
Most Hollows were uninterested in talking, and only sought others to devour them, or chase the thrill of battle in order to satiate their bloodlust.
This Vasto Lorde in comparison, seemed extraordinarily calm and composed.
“We’re not looking for a fight,” she said reassuringly. “In fact, we’re looking for companions.”
“Companions?” He repeated slowly, as if testing the word on his tongue.
Ichigo nodded, and gestured to Ulquiorra as he arrived at her side. “This is Ulquiorra. We keep each other company when I visit Hueco Mundo, and occasionally train together.”
The Vasto Lorde regarded her for a long moment before responding. “You’re a real Shinigami?”
Ichigo chuckled nervously, and rubbed the back of her neck. “I am currently employed as one, but I’m not a… pure Shinigami.”
He grunted in acknowledgment. “I suppose it doesn’t matter what you are. The fact that you two aren’t dead standing this close to me is good enough.”
Glancing around at all the corpses, Ichigo wondered how long he’d been alone, and slowly crouched down in front of him.
“I'm Ichigo,” she said, sticking out her hand.
The Vasto Lorde stared at her hand in silence, much like Ulquiorra had once done, but to her surprise, he soon reached out and grabbed it.
“Starrk,” he said gruffly.
Ichigo stilled as a fleeting sense of recognition passed through the forefront of her mind, and she lifted her head to gaze at him again.
Aizen didn’t talk about his Espada often, but there was one name that came up more than most, perhaps even with a hint of melancholy, and Ichigo finally realised who she was looking at.
The Primera Espada.
Night fell, and Seireitei was quiet under the dim light of the moon.
In the darkness, a man clad in black moved swiftly and silently between the streets, his reiatsu suppressed to the utmost limits as he approached the Fifth Division barracks.
His eyes scanned the surroundings with well practised efficiency, noting a single Shinigami on patrol walk by the main entrance.
Moving towards the back end, he quickly leapt over a wall and landed in the training field, before stealthily making his way to the central building.
Normally, all the sleeping quarters were built off to the side, separated from the workrooms, and only the captain’s bedroom was attached to the main office.
The man circled the area outside twice, taking care to pinpoint every possible point of entry and exit before concocting his next plans.
He didn’t know what Kurosaki Ichigo had done to incur his master’s wrath, but he now had a crucial job to do— such deliberations didn’t matter.
If he couldn’t go for a direct strike tonight, he was also permitted to leave behind slow working poisons should he find a suitable opportunity. His opponent was still a captain-class Shinigami at the end of the day, and should his initial strike fail, he would have no choice but to take a suicide pill.
After careful preparation, he slowly reached for the door to her office, when a low voice suddenly cut through the silence.
“Bakudo 9: Geki.”
Before he could react, his entire body froze in place, paralyzed by Kidō.
Abort. Abort.
He quickly released his own spiritual energy to negate the effects of the bakudō, but the binding didn’t budge.
Panic filled his head as he realised he couldn’t even move his eyes, much less twitch a muscle.
Unable to defend himself, he could do nothing as a hand reached out to grab the back of his collar from behind, and promptly pulled him away in a single shunpo step.
He suddenly found himself back in the training field, still paralyzed as his body was thrown onto the grass.
A small figure loomed over him, and if he still had control over his face, his eyes would have widened in shock.
There was a child in front of him.
A young boy with soft brown hair and dark eyes, who looked to be no older than seven or eight.
If it wasn’t for a red glow around the boy’s fist, which was continuously holding the bakudō in place, he would have never imagined that he could be so thoroughly suppressed by a child.
“I almost fell asleep waiting for you,” the boy said softly, his tone pleasant and light. “You’re the second one this week.”
Without any hesitation, the boy reached out and struck his jaw, easily dislocating the lower half of his face. Pain exploded across his mouth and stars danced along the edges of his vision as he fought to stay conscious.
He couldn’t even recoil, much less scream, still held in place by a seemingly unbreakable spell.
Such a low level Kidō should have been easy for him to dispel, but the fact that he couldn’t move no matter how hard he fought sent shivers down his back.
The boy didn’t even use an incantation.
“The last one killed himself before I could even ask a single question,” the boy said with a small smile. “Luckily, I’m a fast learner.”
His heart raced against his ribcage, realising why the boy went for his jaw first— it was a vicious yet precise blow.
Reaching over his shoulder, the boy unsheathed his zanpakutō, and the steel gleamed under the moonlight.
“Who sent you?” He asked, tilting his head to the side. “If you tell me, I promise to send your corpse back whole— otherwise, I’ll have to cut you apart and send a piece of you to every noble clan as a warning.”
The bakudō fell loose around his head, and the man immediately drew in a sharp breath, only to gasp from the pain of his jaw.
“Jus’ kill me,” he wheezed, suffocating under the paralysis of his chest.
He was a dead man the moment his mission failed.
The boy narrowed his eyes, and nonchalantly slammed his sword into the ground, stabbing straight through his thigh.
He flinched, barely holding back a scream from escaping his throat.
“Dogs should know their place,” the boy said with a dark gaze, twisting his blade back and forth. “Even if I wasn’t here, you wouldn’t have been able to touch a single hair on Kurosaki-taicho’s head.”
Suspicion swirled within his mind, wondering where things had gone wrong. The report he received indicated that the Shiba Clan hadn’t deployed any hidden guards to protect Kurosaki Ichigo, but he refused to believe that the boy before him was just a normal squad member.
Such a notion was impossible.
“There will be more,” he warned hoarsely, feeling increasingly lightheaded.
The boy leaned closer, his eyes gleaming with what looked like genuine anticipation, and the man felt a chill roll down his spine.
“Let them come,” he said with a smile. “For those foolish enough to try, I’ll bury them under her feet one by one”
It wasn’t a threat— it was a promise.
Resorting to the last of his strength, the man used his tongue to reach for the pill inside his mouth. He wouldn’t be able to bite down with his broken jaw, but swallowing it would be enough to kill him.
But before he could finish the deed, the boy slammed the hilt of his zanpakutō against his throat, causing him to choke painfully.
“Did you think I’d let you die so easily?” The boy clicked his tongue, looking displeased.
Wheezing into the dirt, the man felt any lingering sense of hope slip through his fingers.
“I won’t speak,” he rasped out, trying to put up a brave front.
The boy raised his sword with a cold smile, and leaned in close. “You want to know something?”
The kidō bindings tightened around his face, and the man realised that he couldn’t look away or respond.
“Kurosaki-taichō isn’t even here,” the boy revealed with a mocking laugh. “To be honest, I don’t know where she is, but I do know that she comes back by sunrise.”
The man froze in confusion, wondering if the boy was trying to intentionally mislead him. He had been tracking Kurosaki Ichigo since the afternoon, and had witnessed her retire for bed. Unless her room had some underground connection he didn’t know about, it should have been impossible for her to sneak out unnoticed.
“Four hours until sunrise,” the boy said, taking a long look towards the pitch black sky. “You think you won’t speak?”
He lowered his face, and a gleam of something sinister flickered through his eyes.
“You will.”
Notes:
I think I spent 3 weeks trying to design a bankai for Aizen, making sure it fit with his shikai, his character, and the lore of why he never used it— only to not even reveal it in this chapter 😂 Writing is sometimes funny like that.
Time skip coming up next chapter, so I tried to shove everything in this one before we move on! I finally managed to add another adventure in Hueco Mundo, and of course, big welcome to Starrk! 💙 However, he hasn't split his soul yet, so no Lilynette.
Lastly, in the chapters moving forward, Sōsuke will refer to the younger (past) self, and Aizen will refer to the older (future) self. Hopefully that helps with any confusion!
Extra-
Sōsuke: I have a headache
Ichigo: Again? What have you been doing these past few days?
Sōsuke: …nothing
Aizen: He's Sōsuke now?
Ichigo: Don’t even think about it
Chapter 16
Notes:
I am soooo sorry guys *hides* where did the time go?
Long story short, I decided to start prioritising my sleep to better my health, but unfortunately, my creative writing brain works exclusively between the hours of 1am and 4am 😭. I've been trying so hard to write during the day but I end up spending most of my time staring at the word doc, typing and deleting in an endless cycle. This fic is not abandoned, and I still have so many story points swimming around in my head, my brain just farts trying to get it on paper.
Regardless, I hope y'all have been well! Thank you for all the kudos and comments on the last chapter ❤️ See you at the end note.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Ten Years Later
-
When the evening sun began to set, rushed footsteps echoed through the Fifth Division barracks as a figure hurried down the halls.
A shinigami on patrol raised their head and blinked in surprise.
“Azashiro-san, you’re back already?”
“No time!” Sumi yelled impatiently, running past. “Is Kurosaki-taichō in?”
“Yes, but—”
She didn’t hear the rest, entirely focused on her destination as the adrenaline from the day’s events began to finally die down.
She skidded to a stop in front of Captain Kurosaki’s office and quickly rapped her knuckles against the door.
“Come in.”
Sumi opened the door, all but ready to start giving her report when she noticed the extra guests sitting inside the office and froze.
To Captain Kurosaki’s left was Kyōraku Shunsui and to her right was Ukitake Jūshirō, arguably two of the most respected and oldest captains behind Yamamoto and Unohana. The three were sitting around her desk with a cup of tea, clearly enjoying some leisurely time together.
Before she could apologise, realising that she had interrupted their conversation, Captain Kurosaki got up from her seat with a frown.
“You’re injured,” she said seriously, reaching out to gently grab her shoulder. “Sit down first.”
Sumi briefly touched her forehead, noting the blood on her fingers and hurriedly wiped the cut with her sleeve. “I’m okay— it’s nothing!”
“Sit,” she repeated more firmly. “I’ve told you multiple times that reports can wait.”
Unable to argue, Sumi sat obediently.
A small kaidō barrier sprang to life around her, casting warm light in the office, and Captain Ukitake handed her a fresh cup of tea.
“It's roasted barley,” he said with an encouraging nod.
“T-Thank you,” she muttered, feeling rather embarrassed by the sudden attention.
“I wasn’t expecting you for another week, so I suspect something happened?” Captain Kurosaki asked slowly, dragging over another chair to sit on. “Where’s Sōya?”
Sumi took a small sip of the tea, realising how parched she was, before responding. “I had him escort the injured to the Fourth. No one from our unit was killed, but…”
She glanced at the two other Captains with uncertainty, hesitant to give an official report in such a casual setting.
“It’s fine,” Captain Kurosaki said reassuringly. “It’s probably better they hear it now rather than later.”
Kyōraku sighed but nodded. “Unfortunately, you’re right as usual, Ichigo-chan.”
“Is this about the investigation into Sector 139?” Ukitake asked.
Sumi nodded.
Three months ago, a district in the Living World was reporting much more Hollow activity than usual. The problem escalated to the point nine Shinigami were killed while looking into the area, and the Eleventh Division Captain, Kuruyashiki Kenpachi, was ordered to take matters into his own hands.
Sector 139 was under the jurisdiction of the Eleventh Division, but the neighbouring Sector 140 belonged to the Fifth, prompting Captain Kurosaki to send a supporting unit along.
“I led our team to do a routine investigation of our sector, and found no signs of unusual activity,” Sumi explained carefully. “However, when we went to regroup with Kuruyashiki-taichō, they were being swarmed by Hollows.”
“How many?” Kurosaki asked patiently.
Sumi swallowed, recalling the dreadful sight with a sense of anxiety. “Dozens. There was an active Garganta in the middle of the district and the Hollows just kept pouring out.”
“A Garganta?” Kyōraku muttered, shooting a quick glance at Captain Kurosaki. “That means…”
“There was a high level Hollow invading the Living World?” Ukitake finished with wide eyes.
“I think so,” Sumi said with a firm nod. “The one leading the horde was small— shorter than Kuruyashiki-taichō even.”
“What happened to Kuruyashiki?” Captain Kurosaki asked, frowning slightly.
“He ordered Kanō-fukutaichō to take the remaining Eleventh division members and push the weaker Hollows back into the Garganta, while Sōya and I brought the injured to Seireitei,” she said quickly, feeling a sense of panic creep into her voice. “There were already two dead, and I had no choice but to leave Kuruyashiki-taichō behind, so I— I don’t know what happened to him, I came straight here—”
A warm hand suddenly fell on top of her head, and Sumi stopped rambling to meet Captain Kurosaki’s gaze.
“You did well,” she said softly. “Obedience is better than sacrifice in times like this. Kuruyashiki is more than capable of taking care of himself, and you did everything you were supposed to do.”
Sumi sniffled, trying not to let the day’s emotions get the better of her. “Yes, taichō.”
“Go get some rest,” she ordered. “I’ll have someone else follow up with your brother and the others at the Fourth.”
Nodding silently, Sumi pushed through her exhaustion, gave a bow to the three captains in front of her and slowly stepped out of the office.
The moment she closed the door behind her, she sagged tiredly on a nearby pillar and sighed in relief.
At least she was still alive.
After speeding through the Academy, Sumi had joined the Fifth Division and spent the last six years diligently climbing the ranks and doing everything in her power to support Captain Kurosaki.
Perhaps she had been lucky that even after all this time, she had never witnessed such a horrendous Hollow attack.
Memories of her time in the Spirit Sealing Pit flickered through the forefront of her mind, and Sumi pressed her forehead against the pillar with gritted teeth.
While Sōya seemed to have blocked the memory out entirely, the experience followed her every step like a shadow, and seeing another Shinigami so ruthlessly killed by Hollow nearly sent her into a panic.
“Sumi?”
Pushing back the last of her dark thoughts, she glanced up to see Shinji walking down the hallway with Sōsuke, who was holding a stack of paperwork in his arms.
She quickly straightened up and greeted them with a nod. “Hey.”
“You alright?” Shinji asked carefully.
“I've been better,” she admitted with a weak smile.
Sōsuke regarded her with a curious gaze. “You’re back early.”
“Yeah,” she muttered, not having the energy to further elaborate.
Shinji gave her a long look before opening the door to their shared office and gestured inside.
“Well don’t just stand there,” he said with raised brows. “Go sit down.”
Knowing that being with familiar faces always helped calm her nerves, Sumi nodded after a beat of hesitation.
“Thanks,” she said faintly.
She took a seat at the communal table and sank into the chair, while Shinji and Sōsuke moved towards their respective desks.
No one said a word, and for a long while, all Sumi heard was the brushing of ink on paper, and the soft rustling of clothes as she allowed her eyes to rest.
The blood curdling screams that echoed in her memories eventually receded, and her heart settled with the thought that Captain Kurosaki was right next door.
“Sōsuke, where’s the budget report?”
The sound of grinding ink paused. “I already submitted it.”
“You what?” Shinji snapped. “I never approved it!”
“Your input was deemed unnecessary, considering your blunder on last month’s budget,” Sōsuke said calmly.
“T-That was one tiny thing! You should have still gone through me!”
“Seeing as we’re the same rank, I approved the report,” Sōsuke said.
Sumi opened her eyes, sensing the sudden hostility in the room as she discreetly looked at the quarrelling pair.
Among the group of senior officers, it was no secret that Shinji and Sōsuke didn’t get along, and whatever truce they had before was broken with Sōsuke’s promotion to Third Seat.
On one hand, Sumi was jealous.
Aizen Sōsuke was widely regarded as a genius, with his name being paraded around the Academy as a model student who lacked nothing. She had tried so hard in comparison, but only managed to graduate within four years while it had taken Sōsuke one.
His promotion speed was something that was still talked about within the Fifth Division, like a phenomenon that would never be seen again. Within a single year, he had jumped from an unseated position to that of a Tenth, then became a Third Seat after another two years of hard work.
With Shinji and Sōsuke sharing the same rank, there were rumours that Shinji would eventually be promoted to a Lieutenant, but a sudden string of errors tarnished his record and quieted the gossip.
Nearly thirty years had passed since Captain Kurosaki took over the Fifth Division, but the position as her second-in-command continued to remain vacant.
And it was obvious that both Shinji and Sōsuke wanted it.
“You little shit,” Shinji hissed, eyes alight with indignation. “Kurosaki-taichō clearly separated our duties and the squad’s budget is under me.”
“And yet, she didn’t seem to have any problems when she saw my signature on the report,” Sōsuke shot back with a casual shrug.
A deathly silence fell over the office and Sumi wondered if she should step in, but before either could continue the argument, the door opened to reveal Sōya, clearly back from the Fourth Division.
“Nee-san,” he called, catching her gaze from across the room. “Unohana-taichō—”
“I’m coming!” She interrupted, taking the opportunity to jump out of her seat. “I was just thinking that I needed to see her.”
Sōya frowned, clearly confused. “Uh, that’s not—”
Grabbing her brother’s arm, Sumi pushed him out of the doorway before giving Shinji and Sōsuke a stiff smile over her shoulder.
“See you guys later!”
Not waiting for them to respond, she hastily closed the door behind her and continued to drag Sōya down the hall.
“What happened?” He asked, giving her a puzzled stare. “Why are you running away?”
Having created enough distance from the offices, Sumi stopped near the edge of the training ground and gave him a soft scowl. “I’m not running away.”
“Yes, you are,” he shot back. “You hate confrontation.”
Holding back the urge to smack her brother across the head, she sighed and glanced around the barracks, making sure no one was nearby.
“Sōya,” she said seriously. “If you could choose between Shinji and Sōsuke, who would you rather have as our Lieutenant?”
“Sōsuke,” he answered immediately.
She frowned and jabbed his forehead. “You answered so quickly, did you even think about it?”
He pouted and rubbed his head. “What more do I have to think about? Kurosaki-taichō wouldn’t have promoted him so fast if he wasn’t deserving.”
Sumi relented, knowing he was right.
“Why are you so worried anyway?” He asked. “It’s not like you’re the one who has to make the decision.”
“I know,” she grumbled, crossing her arms. “I just don’t want any more conflict.”
Apart from the tension within the Fifth Division, Sumi knew that ambitious Shinigami all over the Gotei were vying for the open spot, hoping to obtain glory and power in one fell swoop.
At the end of the day, there was only one thing for certain.
If Captain Kurosaki ever opened a Ranking Trial for the position of her Lieutenant—
Blood would be shed.
Two days after the incident, Kenpachi Kuruyashiki came staggering through the Senkaimon near death’s door, and by the morning, Ichigo found herself summoned to the Fourth Division by Unohana’s request.
Seeing as an all-Captains meeting was already scheduled for the evening, Ichigo concluded that the summons must have been for something personal.
Walking into the Fourth Division, she made her way through the emergency department when a familiar voice called out from behind.
“Ichigo!”
She turned, spotting a young teenager with spiky black hair wave in her direction as he lightly jogged down the hallway.
Ichigo smiled, feeling her gaze soften as the boy approached.
Within the Shiba Clan, she was the only one unsurprised when Isshin decided to join the Fourth Division after the elders all but forced his enrollment into Shin’ō Academy.
Many suspected that he did it out of spite, but Ichigo knew that the only lectures he paid attention to while at the Academy were those on medicine.
Seeing him now, dressed in a white and yellow medic robe, felt painfully nostalgic.
“Well, well, if it isn’t my second favourite Shiba,” she greeted with a teasing smile. “The uniform suits you well.”
Isshin made a face of betrayal and pointed an accusatory finger at her. “You told me I was your favourite!”
Ichigo raised her brows. “That was until I learned you were the one who poured salt in my food at the banquet last month.”
Isshin opened his mouth soundlessly before scowling. “Who snitched on me?! Was it Izuru?”
“No,” she smiled evilly, reaching out to grab his ear. “I just made an educated guess.”
Realising that he had spoken too soon, he froze, and his frown slowly turned into a pleading smile.
“I— uh…” he laughed nervously, looking off to the side. “I lost a bet with Taisei.”
“Did you now?” Ichigo chirped, tightening her grip. “I don’t remember asking to participate in your little bet.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He immediately folded, bringing his hands together in a pleading gesture. “It was either you or Kuchiki-taichō, and I didn’t want to die—”
She snorted in amusement and released him, opting to lightly smack the side of his forehead as punishment.
“Fine, you’re forgiven,” she huffed. “You look like you’re about to fall over anyway.”
Isshin pouted and rubbed at the dark circles around his eyes. “I just finished a night shift.”
Ichigo paused before making the connection. “Were you part of the relief team that transported Kuruyashiki from the Senkaimon last night?”
“Yeah,” he said with a yawn. “Are you here to see him?”
“I’m not sure,” she said honestly. “I have to check with Unohana first.”
“I need to give her a report too,” Isshin said with bright eyes. “Let’s go together.”
Smiling at his enthusiasm, Ichigo followed along as Isshin led her down the long halls towards Unohana’s office, using the brief time to catch up on anything new in his day to day life.
Even after all these years, it was still strange to see her father as a young boy, but she was happy to see that the core of his goofy and energetic personality remained unchanged.
When they arrived near the office, Ichigo spotted Unohana already standing outside, dispatching another relief team for the day.
“Unohana-taichō!” Isshin called, lifting his hand.
She turned and greeted them with a polite nod as Ichigo did the same. “So you’ve come together.”
“I’d hate to take too much of your time,” Ichigo began, noting the medics scurrying around them. “Should I come back later?”
“No need,” Unohana shook her head softly. “It was Kuruyashiki who asked to see you.”
Ichigo blinked in surprise. “Is he even awake? I heard he came back in pretty rough shape.”
“He regained consciousness early this morning,” Unohana confirmed, “but his condition is still being monitored.”
“I can take her!” Isshin volunteered.
Unohana smiled, and Ichigo swore a gust of cold wind blew through the hallway. “I’m afraid not. You’re past due on three reports as of today, and I do believe I have been patient enough.”
Isshin stiffened in terror before frantically rummaging through his robe and pulling out the reports in question.
“I— I have them! I swear, I won’t be late again!” He said quickly, lifting up the crumpled documents like an offering.
Unohana continued smiling and gestured to her office. “Why don’t you have a seat inside?”
Isshin threw her a pleading look, wordlessly begging her to come along, and Ichigo cleared her throat and stared at the ceiling as if admiring the pattern.
Sorry, dad.
Unohana was scary enough as is, and Isshin had to learn that he couldn’t run away from his paperwork forever.
Realising that she wouldn’t join in on the scolding, Isshin slumped his shoulders and walked into the office with heavy steps.
Unohana’s smile softened, and spoke in a quieter voice. “You won’t request leniency for your father?”
Ichigo froze, and stared at the older woman with wide eyes. “…how did you know?”
Unohana might have been one of the first people to learn of Ichigo’s origins, but she had never revealed the true identity of her parents to anyone.
“I made the connection just now, seeing you two together,” Unohana said with mild amusement. “Your eyes gave you away.”
Ichigo pressed her hand over her face, feeling strangely embarrassed.
“And you've allowed him to speak to you quite casually,” Unohana added.
Ichigo sighed in defeat.
She was never one to care about titles anyway, but ever since he was a child, Isshin had always addressed her without honorifics.
On the rare occasion decorum was necessary, he would default to 'Kurosaki-taichō’, but unlike his older brother or any of the other children his age, he never once referred to her as 'onee-san’.
It was as if something deep within his soul knew that such labels didn’t fit.
“You scare me, Unohana-san, you know that?” She said finally, laughing shortly.
The older woman simply smiled before turning around and leading Ichigo down the hall.
The recovery ward was just around the corner from Unohana’s office, and within a short minute of walking, they had arrived at Kuruyashiki’s room.
“I advised him to rest, but he was quite adamant about seeing you as soon as possible,” Unohana revealed with a small frown.
Ichigo nodded in understanding. “I’ll see what he needs and remind him to heed your orders.”
“Very well,” she agreed, before reaching out to release the Kidō barrier on the door.
Stepping inside the room, the first thing Ichigo noticed was how dark it was, she nearly missed the figure of a tall man lying motionless in the bed.
As her eyes adjusted, she saw that every inch of Kuruyashiki’s body was wrapped in bandages, leaving only half his face visible.
His one uncovered eye bolted open as she drew close, tense and on edge, before seeming to realise who she was.
“Yo, Kurosaki,” he rasped out, smiling crookedly. “You mind opening the curtains? I can’t see shit in here.”
Ichigo sighed softly before walking over to the windows. “You look terrible, Kuruyashiki.”
Sunlight poured into the room as she slid the curtains away, and Ichigo grabbed a nearby chair before sitting down beside the bed.
“I just came back after fighting a Vasto Lorde,” he said gruffly. “I deserve a day or two to look terrible.”
“Are you certain it was a Vasto Lorde?” She asked after a beat of silence.
She had already confirmed that it wasn’t Starrk or Ulquiorra, but what if it was another familiar face?
“Absolutely,” he said, turning serious. “He called himself Lerroi Gael, a general under the service of Barragan Luisenbān.”
Ichigo had no clue who the general in question was, but immediately recognised Barragan’s name, although she had never met him herself.
Aizen’s Second Espada.
She had heard the rumours surrounding Barragan’s current rule in Hueco Mundo, but Ichigo was never one to intentionally seek out conflict, and both Starrk and Ulquiorra didn’t care for joining his army.
“What happened to the Vasto Lorde?” She asked.
“Killed him,” Kuruyashiki said curtly. “Bastard was ridiculously strong, I had to go all out.”
Ichigo widened her eyes at the implication. “You released your bankai in the Living World? Is there anything left of Sector 139?”
While she had never seen it, Ichigo knew that Kuruyashiki’s bankai was forbidden in Seireitei for a reason— it attacked everything and anyone indiscriminately.
Kuruyashiki sighed tightly. “I know. I’m already getting a headache thinking about the consequences.”
Ichigo rubbed her temple, but didn’t pursue the matter. “So why did you call for me?”
At this, Kuruyashiki quieted, and a solemn expression came upon his normally jovial face.
“Kurosaki,” he said seriously.
Ichigo crossed her arms and nodded, recognising his vulnerable tone. “I’m listening.”
He gazed out the window, as if trying to find the right words.
“I lost Ashido,” he said at last.
Kanō Ashido was the Lieutenant of the Eleventh Division, and while Ichigo had only met him once or twice, a hazy memory of a man with spiky red hair came to mind.
“I’m sorry,” she said simply.
“I need your help to get him back,” Kuruyashiki said firmly, turning to face her with his one good eye.
Ichigo frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I sent Ashido and his unit to push back the remaining hollows into the Garganta, and take cover from my bankai,” he explained, clenching his hands. “I just didn’t expect it to close so quickly after I killed the Vasto Lorde.”
“So he’s not dead,” she clarified.
“Unless a greater tragedy fell upon them, I suspect my squad members are now stuck in Hueco Mundo,” he finished.
“What are you trying to say?” She asked frankly, narrowing her eyes.
He looked down, as if swallowing his pride. “I know you have access to Hueco Mundo. I don’t care why or how— I won’t even ask— I only want to save my subordinates.”
Ichigo sighed tiredly. “Where exactly did you hear that?”
“A few years ago, on Kyōraku’s birthday,” he muttered, clearly reluctant to expose one of his closest friends. “He got exceptionally drunk and said that you took him and Ukitake on a day trip to Hueco Mundo.”
Ichigo smacked her forehead, having heard enough.
“He didn’t tell me any details, and I never asked about it afterwards,” Kuruyashiki said quickly. “Like I said, I’m not here to make reports or point fingers— I just want to know if it’s true.”
Unauthorised access of the dimensional gateway was indeed a crime by Shinigami law, but Ichigo considered her situation as a tiny loophole, seeing as she created her own gateways.
“Finding someone in Hueco Mundo won’t be easy,” she finally said, lowering her hand.
“I don’t care, I just need the means to get there,” he insisted.
“Yamamoto will never agree to send a search party,” she said grimly.
“I know,” he muttered. “If I have to go alone, I will.”
Ichigo stared at him incredulously, feeling a pang of empathy strike her gut. “Are you serious?”
Kuruyashiki smiled bitterly. “Ashido and those men got trapped following my orders. I can’t just leave them there.”
“You know desertion of duty is punishable by death,” she added. “Are you really going to abandon everything here?”
He chuckled softly. “What use is the title of Kenpachi if I can’t even rescue my own men? I’m not afraid of leaving— there will always be stronger Shinigami to replace me.”
A long stretch of silence settled over them, and Ichigo stared down at her hands, wondering what she could say to dissuade him.
In reality, she understood his resolve more than he probably knew.
Years ago, there was nothing that could have stopped her from saving Rukia. As long as Urahara was willing to open the way to Soul Society, she would have gone alone— even expected to.
Ichigo slowly stood up, moving the flimsy chair back to its original position by the window and set to leave.
“Kurosaki, wait—”
“Think about it long and hard,” she interrupted, stopping by his feet. “Then, when you’re recovered and ready…”
She turned to face him, resolute.
“Come and see me.”
Within the past decade, Ichigo came to terms with the fact that Urahara Kisuke was trouble.
He had been mischievous and downright secretive as an adult, but his younger self brought an entirely new definition to the phrase teenage chaos.
He was at an age where curiosity and boredom fueled his every whim, and little to no considerations were made for long term consequences.
Which is how Ichigo found herself at the butt end of every experiment or half-baked invention gone wrong, having been unable to say no.
“Please, nee-san, pleeeeeease.”
“Stop begging,” Sōsuke interjected. “You look ridiculous.”
Kisuke pouted. “Clearly someone has to, even though you’re the one who wanted to ask in the first place—”
“I did not!” Sōsuke hissed defensively. “I was just offering options!”
Ichigo crossed her arms and frowned. “The last time I helped you test something, you blew up a section of my barracks and I had to pay for the repairs, remember?”
Kisuke paused before smiling weakly. “That’s why we invited you here! I swear, it won’t happen this time!”
Having lost faith in all his promises, she glanced around the underground training hall with a reluctant sigh.
Ichigo had no idea how they managed it, but sometime last year, Kisuke and Sōsuke had dug up a secret room right underneath the Fifth Division barracks.
She had been surprised by their growing friendship, until she stumbled upon the hideout late at night and found then flinging forbidden Kidō at each other's throats.
Ichigo still didn’t know if they considered themselves friends or enemies.
Noting Sōsuke’s baleful expression, she gave him a concerned look. “And what are you doing here?”
He curled his lip in annoyance. “Getting tormented by an idiot.”
“Yoruichi is busy with clan matters, so Aizen is helping as my assistant,” Kisuke replied cheerily. “He totally owes me a favour anyway, after losing the last—”
A small bolt of lightning shot from Sōsuke’s outstretched hand, and Kisuke dodged without missing a beat, as if expecting the reaction.
“My hair!” Kisuke cried, clutching his head. “You almost fried it off!”
Sōsuke looked away, unconcerned. “Shame.”
“Look how mean he is, nee-san!” Kisuke turned to her, eyes wide with hope. “You’ll help me, won’t you?”
Ichigo tried to remain unmoved. “What do you need?”
Kisuke perked and pulled out a large white mannequin from the bag next to him.
“Ta-da!” He said excitedly. “I don’t have a name for it yet, but it’s a device to help manifest a Zanpakutō Spirit into the real world.”
Ichigo paused, recognizing the Tenshintai almost immediately, although it looked somewhat different from the one she had used in the past.
It turned out that the most revolutionary bankai training tool was created by Kisuke as a teenager.
“How will it help when I can already do that on my own?” Ichigo asked curiously.
Kisuke’s eyes brightened. “The doll is made to become an artificial body for the zanpakutō spirit to inhabit, so it would require no effort on your end to maintain the manifestation.”
Ichigo observed the doll thoughtfully, trying to recall what the final product looked like. “What are all these ropes for?”
“They’re reishi connectors,” Kisuke explained, pointing to a smaller device on the ground. “I’m still trying to streamline the process, but a second person will have to continually release spiritual energy into this receiver— which is what Aizen is here for.”
“Then what will you be doing?” She asked, raising a brow.
Kisuke grinned. “Making sure nothing explodes and taking notes.”
“Of course,” she muttered.
“So will you help, pretty please?” He asked, blinking innocently. “Aizen really wants to see what your zanpakutō spirit looks like—”
“What?!” Sōsuke cried in outrage, about to fire off another bolt of Kidō. “I never—”
“Okay fine, I want to,” Kisuke quickly corrected, pointing to himself. “Aizen can close his eyes.”
Smiling softly in exasperation, Ichigo knocked her knuckles against his head. “No more running your mouth— I have a meeting later tonight so let’s not have things go wrong this time.”
Hearing her unspoken agreement, Kisuke jumped in excitement and quickly moved to set up the rest of the contraption.
Inwardly, Ichigo was curious to know what would happen if she used the Tenshintai again.
After Nimaiya reforged her zanpakutō and Ichigo learned the truth about Hollow-Zangetsu and Quincy-Zangetsu, she never had a proper chance to speak to them together.
To her dismay, the old man had disappeared into the furthest depths of her inner world, and even with Aizen’s presence, he never once appeared to interfere.
“We’re ready!”
Trying to relax her sudden nerves, Ichigo approached the Tenshintai with a firm gaze, noting the two boys standing along the sides on opposite ends.
“All you have to do is stab the doll with your zanpakutō,” Kisuke instructed simply.
Already familiar with the technique, Ichigo reached over her shoulder and slowly pulled Zangetsu free, and after a beat of hesitation, she raised her arm and smoothly pierced the Tenshintai.
She wondered for a split second if nothing would happen at all, then a small blast of energy tore through the mannequin, creating a rift along the void of space, and a tall white figure suddenly appeared in the midst.
For a moment, no one spoke, and Ichigo locked eyes with Zangetsu as he raised his head.
“Whoa,” Kisuke muttered, finally breaking the silence. “Is that…?”
He turned to her, leaving the unspoken question in the air.
“Zangetsu,” she introduced with a nod.
He grunted softly in response, his yellow eyes briefly shifting to look at Kisuke and Sōsuke beside him
“Wow,” Kisuke exclaimed, drawing closer with a curious expression. “I’ve never seen a zanpakutō spirit wearing a shihakushō! He looks like a shinigami!”
Before he could react, Zangetsu reached out and grabbed the top of Kisuke’s head in a punishing grip.
“Urahara,” he said curtly, his lips stretching into a wicked smile.
“I—um, y-yes?” Kisuke squealed slightly, trying to look in her direction. “D-Do you know me?”
“I do,” he said cryptically, before turning to stare at the brunette behind him and flared his reiatsu. “You too, Aizen.”
Sōsuke froze slightly, clearly taken aback by the sudden hostility, but remained rooted in place.
“Nee-san!” Kisuke wailed, unable to free himself from Zangetsu’s grasp. “What did you tell him!?”
Ichigo sighed.
Aizen may have joked that she was his best creation, but Zangetsu was the true innovation— his hollow soul was formed by Aizen’s hands, then perfected into a zanpakutō spirit by Urahara.
“Let him go,” she said lightly. “They’re still kids.”
“Hmph,” Zangetsu snorted, relaxing his hand. “Can’t even handle a friendly greeting?”
Kisuke staggered back, then hurriedly grabbed the small tablet he had dropped earlier before scurrying behind her, clearly using her as a shield.
“I thought you wanted a closer look?” Ichigo asked teasingly.
Kisuke rapidly shook his head. “No, thank you. I’ll stick to the data.”
Ichigo raised a brow and turned to look at Sōsuke. A small device rested in his palm, which connected to a glowing red rope. “How are you holding up?”
“Fine,” he answered shortly, his eyes briefly flickering between her and Zangetsu. “I can probably maintain this level of output for a week.”
Kisuke approached his side and poked at the receiver. “Looks stable so far, but all prior testing showed signs of failure after forty-eight hours. I’ll give you three days max.”
Sōsuke shrugged coolly. “If the manifestation disappears, it’s because your mod-body was subpar— it’s impossible that I’ll exhaust my reiryoku first.”
The two boys began to argue, and Ichigo took the chance to approach Zangetsu with a complicated expression.
“Is it just you this time?” she asked quietly.
Zangetsu didn’t hesitate. “It is.”
Ichigo exhaled softly, trying not to feel disappointed.
Even if Old Man Zangetsu never wanted to appear before her again, it was a wish she had to respect.
Ichigo swallowed back her emotion and nodded. “I— ”
Before she could continue, two things happened at once.
Zangetsu’s eyes widened, and his body began to flicker like an unstable hologram.
Ichigo turned her head, about to call for help, when the device in Sōsuke’s hand denoted with violent energy, and he and Kisuke were sent flying across the training ground.
Quickly reorienting herself, Ichigo shot after them, running through the thick cloud of dust and debris, before spotting a small figure slumped against a rock.
“Kisuke!” she called, noting his blonde hair. “What the hell happened? Are you alright?”
He coughed a mouthful of dirt and groaned in response.
She gently pushed him onto his back, making sure he wasn’t critically injured before standing back on her feet.
“Stay put!” she ordered sternly. “I’ll be right back.”
As the dust began to settle, Ichigo spotted Sōsuke lying on the opposite end, and she dashed ahead, sensing his spiritual energy run wild in uncontrolled waves.
Before she could reach him, there was a tremor in the air, as if the fabric of reality was bending something into existence, and Ichigo suddenly crashed into a pair of arms.
Unable to stop her momentum, she toppled with the weight of another person beneath her, landing in a mess of limbs before she could steady herself.
She winced in pain, about to chastise Zangetsu for his sudden appearance, when a different voice, low and clearly strained, spoke in her ear.
“Ichigo.”
It was as if the world stood still, and Ichigo felt her entire body stop dead in disbelief, unable to comprehend how she was hearing his voice— here.
Pressed into his chest, all she could see was a clean white robe, and Ichigo’s heart jumped straight into her throat, realising that it wasn’t Zangetsu’s shihakushō.
Forcing her body to move, she pushed herself up and locked eyes with the man pinned underneath her, finding Aizen’s face barely an inch from hers, solid, warm— real.
But this wasn’t her Inner World.
“You—” she choked out, hearing her own voice tremble. “How are you…”
His hand reached out to gently twirl a lock of her hair, which fell loosely beside his face like a curtain.
“The quality of this artificial body is disappointing,” he said calmly, “but I suppose I can’t complain.”
“Aizen!” She hissed under her breath, grabbing a hold of his wrist. “What have you done!?”
He cocked his head, seemingly amused by the question.
“Are you a fool, Ichigo?” He asked bluntly. “Can you really not discern why this happened?”
She shook slightly, trying to connect the dots in her head before she lost all semblance of comprehension.
“The tenshintai,” she answered breathlessly.
Aizen smiled, but his eyes remained cold. “A simple tool that reflects spiritual beings into physical reality isn’t enough to drag me out here.”
As if on cue, a small voice called out to her.
“K-Kurosaki-taichō—”
Ichigo felt as if a bucket of cold water was poured on her head, and she looked up, startled to see Sōsuke shakily stand on his feet, only a few metres away from them.
He was bloodied and injured all over, and held his face with one hand while the other continued to clutch onto the Tenshintai receiver.
Ichigo instantly made the connection.
“It’s because of who is supplying the reiryoku,” Aizen revealed.
In a split second decision, Ichigo pulled the captain’s robe off her back and threw it over Aizen’s face, hiding him from view, then ran to Sōsuke’s side.
“Give me that!” She demanded, all but ripping the device out of his hand.
She severed the reishi ropes then crushed the receiver to pieces under her foot, and within seconds, the turbulent spiritual energy in the room quieted.
Ichigo let out a long sigh of relief.
Sōsuke slumped forward, clearly drained of all energy, and she moved to catch him just as a large shadow fell over her head.
She glanced up in surprise, only to see a white robe held above her like a sunshade, blocking the rest of her view.
“I never expected to wear this garb again… it’s almost nostalgic.”
The haori fell over her shoulders, and Aizen lowered his head to whisper in her ear.
“See you soon, Ichigo.”
She whipped her head around, wondering how his spirit continued to linger in the real world, only to see nothing.
There was just Kisuke, standing a few paces behind where Aizen once was, looking wide eyed and rattled.
“Nee-san,” he muttered slowly, blinking in confusion. “Who was that?”
Silence met his question, and Ichigo felt all her prior relief vanish like smoke.
Shit.
Contrary to Aizen’s final words, Ichigo was not ready to see him soon.
In fact, if she had it her way, she would never see him again, unable to get over the embarrassment of her oversight.
The Tenshintai was a device that manifested the zanpakutō of a shinigami.
A zanpakutō wasn’t just a weapon, it was the reflection of a shinigami’s soul.
Not only did Ichigo have a fragment of another person in her soul, it was bound to her in one of the most intimate ways possible.
It was absolutely her lapse in judgement that led to the accident.
By some miracle, Kisuke only saw Aizen’s back, and Sōsuke didn’t see his older self at all, having teetered on the edge of consciousness.
Their injuries were healed without any complications, and Sōsuke was ordered to rest as a precaution due to exhausting nearly all his spiritual energy.
In the end, Ichigo managed to convince Kisuke that Aizen was another zanpakutō spirit.
It wasn’t entirely a lie that she had two.
As a week passed, the incident weighed so heavily on her mind, Ichigo nearly forgot about the promise she made with Kuruyashiki until he showed up at her doorstep in the middle of the night.
She took one look at his attire, noting that his captain’s robe was replaced by a generic brown cloak, and knew it was time.
Steadying her heart, Ichigo grabbed her own cloak off the wall and beckoned him along.
“Come with me.”
The two travelled under the cover of the night, and she led him towards the old residential districts when Kuruyashiki seemed to recognize their destination.
“Wait a minute,” he said gruffly, pausing near the entrance. “Isn’t this…?”
Ichigo stopped to nod at him. “Well, let’s just say that I tried to send you off alone, but they wouldn’t let me.”
Kuruyashiki sighed, clutching his face. “I didn’t want to implicate anyone else.”
“That’s what I said too, but they didn’t listen,” she said with a small smile. “Come on.”
Ichigo led him down into the underground chamber beneath Kyōraku’s old home, finding two men already inside, waiting.
Kuruyashiki came to a dead stop, his eyes full of emotion as he saw them. “Kyōraku, Ukitake… you two, really—”
Ukitake smiled sincerely as Kyōraku came up to pat his shoulder.
“Leaving without saying goodbye?” Kyōraku shook his head in disapproval. “I’m hurt.”
Kuruyashiki sighed tightly and lowered his gaze. “You know why I had to.”
Earlier in the week, Yamamoto made his message clear— no Shinigami forces would be allowed into Hueco Mundo, and the trapped Eleventh Division members were declared dead.
Any further actions to pursue the matter would be considered treason.
“I’m sad it’s come to this, but I respect your decision,” Kyōraku said solemnly.
Ukitake nodded in turn. “Have you sorted out all your affairs?”
Kuruyashiki laughed shortly. “There’s not much I’m leaving behind. Although I regret not being able to pass my title of Kenpachi in a blaze of glory, I know someone stronger and more worthy will eventually come.”
Ichigo remained quiet, but inwardly agreed.
“Who knows?” Kuruyashiki shrugged with a light tone. “Maybe I’ll go hide out in the Living World after this is all over.”
Kyōraku hummed softly. “Then I’ll send you off without any worries.”
The two men shared a long look, before Kuruyashiki turned to face her.
“I’m ready,” he said firmly.
Ichigo nodded, knowing this would be a point of no return.
Uncrossing her arms, she reached out behind her and methodically cut the air, drawing a path between the two dimensions.
A long black line stretched across the space, before it tore open into a massive Garganta, revealing a vortex of turbulent reishi.
Kuruyashiki staggered back in shock, and his wide eyes turned to look at her with an incredulous expression.
“Are you surprised?” Ichigo asked with a small smile.
“Kurosaki,” he called seriously, mouth agape. “I thought you were harbouring an illegal gateway— I didn’t think you’d rip a Garganta open with your bare fucking hands!”
Kyōraku chuckled and pat his back reassuringly. “Don’t worry, it’s safe.”
“As safe as a Garganta can be,” Ukitake corrected.
Kuruyashiki exhaled heavily, as if calming himself. “Right, I said I wouldn’t ask for the details. I don’t even want to know.”
Ichigo grinned and gestured inside. “Follow the path until the end. I’ve connected you to the Central Plains.”
“What’s in the Central Plains?” Kuruyashiki asked.
“Barragan rules a majority of that region,” she explained. “If the hollow you fought was really a subordinate of his, that’s likely where he came from— and hopefully where your men are.”
Kuruyashiki nodded in understanding. “Fine. If I have to fight him too, I will.”
Ichigo frowned slightly.
She didn’t know how much stronger Barragan had become as Aizen’s arrancar, but he was ranked second for a reason.
“Be careful,” she warned seriously. “Hueco Mundo is a merciless desert.”
Kuruyashiki’s gaze softened, and he nodded at her. “I appreciate it, Kurosaki. I hope this isn’t the last time I see you.”
“Of course not,” she said resolutely. “Once you find your subordinates, I’ll have to bring you all back eventually.”
His eyebrows furrowed slightly. “How will you find us?”
Ichigo smiled. “The same way you’ll find your men. Just try to stay in one piece.”
“Very well,” he said agreeably. “This is goodbye, then.”
He took a step, about to turn into the Garganta when Kyōraku pulled out a large bottle of saké from his robe and tossed it at him.
“Take it for the road, my friend.”
Kuruyashiki caught the ceramic bottle carefully, then a wide grin broke out on his face when he realised what it was.
He raised his arm, giving one final wave before he jumped inside the Garganta and disappeared into the darkness.
After a few seconds, the portal closed seamlessly, leaving no trace of its existence.
“Thank you, Ichigo,” Kyōraku said, breaking the silence.
She turned to him with mixed feelings. “Was it the right thing to do?”
“It was what Kuruyashiki wanted,” Ukitake said softly, placing a warm hand on her shoulder. “That’s all.”
“Yes,” Kyōraku said solemnly. “We’ll see him again soon.”
Ukitake sighed softly. “Genryūsai-sensei is going to be furious when he gets Kuruyashiki’s letter tomorrow.”
Kyōraku shrugged, and began walking towards the exit. “That’s a problem for Yama-jii to deal with, and for us to not worry about.”
Ichigo agreed with both of their points, but seeing as she had the biggest contribution to Kuruyashiki’s desertion, she knew she had to tread carefully and avoid attention.
As the three of them left the underground chamber and split ways to their respective Divisions, Ichigo felt a familiar presence hovering near the brink of her senses, and she paused near the empty street.
She glanced up towards a large house, unable to hear a single sound or feel a hint of reiatsu.
Yet something tickled against the edges of her soul.
“What are you doing?” She called out.
There was no response, and Ichigo crossed her arms, about to make a move herself, when something flickering across the rooftop and a small shadow appeared behind her.
Ichigo turned to see Sōsuke standing with his hands behind his back, blinking innocently.
“Kurosaki-taichō,” he blurted, “I had a bad dream.”
She gave him a long look. “So you decided to secretly tail me in the middle of the night?”
“I was preparing to step in if Kuruyashiki-taichō did anything suspicious,” he replied with a serious face.
Ichigo raised a brow. She knew Kyōraku’s old home was protected by multiple complex kidō barriers; there was no way Sōsuke could have snuck inside without alerting one of four captains.
“What if I did something suspicious?” She asked directly.
News about Kuruyashiki’s desertion was going to explode throughout Seireitei regardless, and Sōsuke was smart enough to make the connection.
“He probably deserved it,” he answered without hesitation.
Ichigo faltered. “What?”
“You’re not the type to do things unprovoked,” Sōsuke said simply.
Ichigo paused, realising that he was declaring his faith in her.
The notion felt oddly rewarding and terrifying at the same time, and she reached out to ruffle his hair. “You’re right, but you still shouldn’t have followed me out here.”
He pouted slightly. “I’m fully recovered now.”
“Yes, I should have realised that by how loudly Shinji was yelling at you this morning,” she noted dryly.
Sōsuke averted his gaze, looking all too much like a stubborn child. “That has nothing to do with me.”
Ichigo sighed quietly. “Why must you antagonise him at every opportunity?”
“He disrespected me first,” he said insistently.
Ichigo knew their conversation would lead to nothing productive, and inwardly dropped the discussion. The feud between Aizen and Shinji started long before her time, and she was certain that their poor relationship was written into the laws of the universe.
“It's late,” she said gingerly. “Let’s head back.”
Sōsuke didn’t argue and obediently followed her down the dark road, seemingly uninterested in asking any further questions about Kuruyashiki.
“Kurosaki-taichō, I honestly did have a bad dream,” he said instead.
“Oh?” She said softly, craning her neck to stare at the waning moon. “What was it about?”
“I dreamt that we were fighting each other,” he said with a pensive face. “But you looked very different.”
“How so?”
Sōsuke looked up at her. “Your hair was black.”
Ichigo froze mid-step, and a sudden memory flickered through the forefront of her mind.
There was only one instance her hair turned black during a fight— one in which Aizen was the sole witness.
“What happened next?” she asked evenly, trying to keep her calm.
“I can’t really remember,” he said, rubbing the side of his head. “Everything went dark, then I woke up.”
Ichigo regarded Sōsuke with a long look, wondering how much she could say to him. The Tenshintai incident had revealed the enormous complexity of their situation, but she was reluctant to dump such heavy history on a young boy.
Once he learned the truth about their relationship, the soul-tie, and his future schemes, would he grow into an enlightened version of himself— or something much worse?
“It was just a dream,” she said at last, trying to set his mind at ease.
Sōsuke met her gaze, as if observing every nuance of her expression in search of something, before he smiled sweetly at her and nodded.
“Just a dream.”
Notes:
I don't remember if it was ever mentioned in SAFWY, but Kuruyashiki's bleach wiki page says that Ashido was his lieutenant, which I thought was interesting so I went with the idea! I also really like Kuruyashiki as a character, but I miss our OG Kenpachi, and I didn't want to kill him off for no good reason. (so now here we are 😉)
Funnily enough, I don't know who I feel more bad for in this chapter 😂 Kisuke, who's project got wrecked; Sōsuke, who had something explode in his face; or Ichigo, who nearly had a heart attack from the shock. The winner of this whole incident?
Aizen.
Chapter 17
Notes:
Surprise? 🙃 I'd first like to thank everyone who encouraged me to take care of my health in the comments, I really, really appreciate each and every one of you! The good news is that my sleep schedule has never been more consistent in my life, the bad news is that my creative brain has turned into a potato 💀. So if you're still here, thank you 💙
The new release of TYBW season 3 got me so hyped, and I hope everyone got to watch the latest episodes! Can't wait for more lore drops and flashbacks, and of course, more Aizen 😏 I'm so happy they gave the Soul King a name, because I was trying to think of one for months and now I don't have to LOL. See you at the end!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The air was thick in the Captain’s Meeting Hall as Ichigo stood impassively on the sidelines, waiting for the Kidō Corps officer to finish his report.
Before the young man could stammer out the rest of his missive, Yamamoto slammed his cane into the ground and flared his reiatsu.
“Imbeciles, all of you!” He snapped angrily. “Not only did you leave the Senkaimon unguarded last night, but your incompetence allowed someone to tamper with the Dangai records!”
The temperature in the hall began to climb higher, and Ichigo fought the urge to readjust her collar.
Across from her, Kyōraku whipped out a fan from his robe and began cooling himself.
“W-We’ve made a grave mistake!” The officer knelt down, trembling from head to toe. “We’ll do everything we can to track Kuruyashiki down!”
“For what use?” Yamamoto asked harshly. “He’s long gone by now!”
The officer sank deeper into the ground. “H-He couldn’t have gone far! The Dangai is strictly blocked off from the Garganta and Hueco Mundo— he’s most likely trapped in the void.”
Yamamoto didn’t look convinced. “Kuruyashiki is no fool. He wouldn’t have deserted his position if he didn’t have a guaranteed way into Hueco Mundo.”
“B-But, such methods are currently beyond our knowledge—”
“Are the Kidō Corps lacking in work?” Yamamoto asked darkly. “Figure it out!”
The officer quickly backtracked and bowed. “Y-Yes, I understand!”
Ichigo felt a twinge of guilt, watching the innocent man tremble under the Head Captain’s fiery rage.
It just so happened that the Kidō Corps Commander was away on a mission, ironically to clean up the damage Kuruyashiki’s bankai had wrecked on Sector 139, and couldn’t be present in the meeting.
And while she was grateful for the red herring, Ichigo had no idea when the Dangai records had been tampered with, and she wondered how Kuruyashiki even managed to infiltrate the Kidō Tower.
Across the hall, Kyōraku caught her gaze with a small wink, and Ichigo fought to keep a straight face.
Oh.
Yamamoto finally turned his attention to the second man, who was kneeling behind the Kidō Corps officer, and frowned.
“You,” he called sternly. “What is your name?”
The Shinigami took a meek step forward and lowered his head. “M-My name is Matsuda Jurō.”
“Are you the current Third Seat of the Eleventh Division?”
Matsuda nodded warily. “I am.”
Yamamoto slammed his cane into the floor again. “Your squad cannot remain without a captain, and by the ruling of the Central 46, you will succeed Kuruyashiki as the 8th Kenpachi.”
Matsuda visibly flinched in shock. “Yamamoto-sōtaichō, p-please— I— I’m not capable—”
“Silence!” Yamamoto ordered. “Will you also follow your predecessor in rebellion?”
“No!” Matsuda said hurriedly, grimacing. “I wouldn’t dare!”
Ichigo inwardly sighed at the turn of events.
While the advancement from Third Seat to Captain seemed impressive on the outside, it was nothing but a death sentence for a Shinigami who couldn’t defend the title of Kenpachi.
Had the promotion been for any other Division, Matsuda would have likely been jumping for joy.
“You all have your orders, the meeting is now adjourned!” Yamamoto declared, dismissing them with a wave of his hand.
His eyes then briefly darted in her direction.
“Kurosaki-taichō, stay behind.”
Ichigo blinked in surprise but managed to keep her expression neutral as the other Captains quickly filed out of the meeting hall.
From the corner of her eyes, she saw Kyōraku and Ukitake linger near the exit before they disappeared behind closed doors.
Within seconds, a heavy blanket of silence fell over them, and Yamamoto turned his back to stare at the far wall, his figure cutting an imposing silhouette against the empty room.
“I heard Kuruyashiki asked to see you.”
Ichigo paused slightly, realising that he was referring to the morning Unohana had summoned her to the Fourth.
“He did,” she replied evenly.
Yamamoto didn’t hesitate. “What did he want?”
Considering the circumstances, Ichigo understood why he was suspicious. She wasn’t particularly close with Kuruyashiki, and he had requested her presence in a seemingly urgent manner.
“He apologised for allowing my squad members to get injured under this watch,” she answered calmly. “And he asked about their current condition.”
There was another beat of silence before Yamamoto finally turned back around, levelling his gaze on her.
“Had it been your squad members in Hueco Mundo, would you have disobeyed my order?” He asked directly.
Ichigo almost laughed out loud.
While the question was purely hypothetical, it was a test with only wrong answers.
If she said no, she’d be painting herself as a heartless leader; if she said yes, she’d be playing right into Yamamoto’s hands.
“I would have done what I thought was right,” she said vaguely.
Did she care more about justice or authority? The ball was back in Yamamoto’s court to decide.
He grunted softly and turned his head. “I see you’re speaking more like a noble.”
Ichigo knew it wasn’t a compliment, but smiled anyway.
She had learned from the best, after all.
“Very well, you may go,” Yamamoto said dismissively.
Giving him a short bow, Ichigo exited the meeting hall and left the First Division Headquarters with a complicated heart.
Kuruyashiki’s departure had left the Eleventh Division in a fragile state. The incident at Sector 139 had taken a toll on its ranks, and half of the seated positions were now missing officers.
Apart from fighting off any potential challengers, the new Kenpachi had to rebuild the squad from the ground up, and Ichigo felt a sense of empathy for the man.
As she neared the Fifth Division barracks, she spotted Kyōraku and Ukitake standing on the roof of her office, and quickly descended beside them.
“You’re alive!” Kyōraku noted with a pleased grin.
“Disappointed?” She said playfully, raising her eyebrows.
Ukitake slapped Kyōraku’s shoulder and gave her a worried look. “What happened, Ichigo? It’s never a good thing when Genryūsai-sensei wants to speak to you alone.”
“It was fine,” she reassured. “He wanted to know what Kuruyashiki and I talked about when I visited him at the Fourth, that’s all.”
“So he didn’t threaten you?” Kyōraku asked with curious eyes.
“On what basis would he threaten me?” She shrugged. “He has no evidence of anything.”
Ukitake grimaced. “He probably hoped you would crack under the nerves of being suspected, being so young.”
“I think we’re worried about the wrong person here,” she said, giving Kyōraku a hard stare. “If the Kidō Corps discover what you’ve done—”
Kyōraku whistled casually and glanced away. “Don’t know what you’re talking about, Ichigo-chan.”
She frowned and crossed her arms. “Kyōraku-taichō, you can’t just —”
“Oh, you hear that?” He said quickly, putting a hand to his ear. “I think my lieutenant is calling me.”
Before she could comment any further, the older man disappeared in a flicker, leaving her and Ukitake behind.
Ichigo grumbled under her breath.
“Shunsui knows what he’s doing,” Ukitake said, reaching out to pat her shoulder in a comforting manner. “Don’t worry about him, Ichigo.”
“How could I not?” She muttered, lowering her head.
It was obvious he had planted the false evidence for her sake, making it seem as if Kuruyashiki left through the Senkaimon on his own.
“I’ll keep an eye on him, so don’t fret,” Ukitake said with a soft smile. “Take care of yourself and avoid travelling for a few months.”
“I understand,” she said seriously. “I’ll be careful.”
Ukitake reached out to gently pat her head before he too disappeared in a flicker, trailing after Kyōraku’s shadow.
Watching him leave, Ichico stared into the distance and felt a soft sigh escape her lips.
“I need to make a call.”
Two weeks later, a set of firm knocks drew her attention, and Ichigo glanced up to see a familiar man enter her office.
“Nagayama,” she greeted happily, straightening up. “It’s good to see you again.”
The older man smiled wistfully before lowering his head. “You as well, Kurosaki-taichō.”
”How’s retirement treating you?” She asked.
“Better than I could have imagined,” he chuckled softly, taking a seat across from her. “Although I do miss the Fifth.”
Ichigo smiled knowingly.
Nagayama had been a part of the old Fifth Division under Tsunayashiro Atsumori, but he was one of the few nobles with an honest character and an upright disposition.
He had served as her Fourth Seat for almost thirty years, and recently retired in order to prioritise family matters.
“Well, your spot is still open if you’re ever feeling the itch,” she said teasingly.
“Oh please, you know my wife would kill me,” he replied, shaking his head.
“Is she doing well?” Ichigo inquired politely.
“As well as ever,” Nagayama said with an easy tone. “Although, she was concerned when I told her that I was meeting you.”
Ichigo laughed. “I’m not here to steal you back into the Gotei, I promise. I’m actually interested in your wife’s work.”
Nagayama looked surprised. “The guild?”
She nodded. “I heard her family runs a well established group of information scouts.”
“That is true,” he said with a hesitant nod, “but they’re not exactly comparable to the Onmitsukidō.”
Ichigo waved her hand dismissively. “I don’t need them to find information. I need them to spread it.”
“That’s certainly doable,” Nagayama agreed after a beat. “To who?”
Ichigo grinned. “All of Rukongai.”
Nagayama blinked in shock, open-mouthed. “Every district? That could take years!”
“I know,” she said reassuringly. “It doesn’t matter how fast it’s done, as long as word gets around.”
He gave her a wary look before asking. “Is this about the Eleventh Division?”
“So you’ve already heard,” she muttered.
He grimaced slightly. “What happened to the title? Doesn’t it have to be kept alive?”
“The third seat just got promoted,” Ichigo said with a sigh. “…and he’s currently in the Fourth after barely defeating his first challenger.”
Nagayama winced. “At least the nobles won’t be interested in the title, since a Kenpachi can’t advance into the Central 46.”
“Even if they don’t interfere, the division is going to fall apart without a strong leader,” she said with a frown.
“And you think the right person is just wandering around Rukongai?” He asked in disbelief.
“Yes.”
Nagayama stared at her in silence, clearly at a loss for words.
“I have someone in mind,” she said honestly. “I just don’t know where he is.”
It was sheer luck that allowed Ichigo to cross paths with Kenpachi and Yachiru almost sixty years ago, but she had no idea where the two were at now.
Nagayama slowly nodded. “How do you want the message?”
Ichigo stared at her cluttered desk and pondered the idea in silence, trying to piece together the right words.
She didn’t know what motivated Kenpachi into joining the Gotei originally, and never had the opportunity to learn more about his past.
Apart from his love of fighting, she knew that he longed to find a challenging opponent, and took his title as the Eleventh Division captain quite seriously.
Ichigo rested her chin along her hand, feeling a nostalgic smile tug at her lips.
“The name of Kenpachi is only suited for the strongest Shinigami of the era. Come and claim it—”
She raised her head, meeting Nagayama’s gaze unflinchingly.
“If you can.”
As the chill of winter rolled in and a thin blanket of snow covered Seireitei, Ichigo found herself with a tiny stalker.
She had been reluctant to expose them at first, knowing their mischief didn’t pose any real danger, but the others around her weren’t as patient.
“Kurosaki-taichō,” Sōsuke called, sounding irked. “It’s back. Again.”
Ichigo glanced up to see a small black cat standing on the window sill of her office, with its bright golden eyes watching her.
It leapt across the room and landed on her desk, then proceeded to walk all over her paperwork, leaving small paw prints over the white sheets.
Eventually, it settled near the corner of her desk and knocked over a cup of tea as it sprawled its legs out.
Ichigo sighed, bending over to pick up the fallen cup, only to see Sōsuke reach for the hilt of his zanpakutō with a dark look on his face.
“Relax,” she ordered quickly, pressing her hand over his own. “It’s just a cat.”
“Taichō, why do you keep putting up with this stupid animal?” He asked, scowling.
The cat reared its head and promptly hissed, clearly having understood the insult.
Deciding to end the matter today, she pressed the empty cup into Sōsuke’s hand.
“I’ll take care of it,” she said calmly. “Will you get me some more tea?”
He took the cup and marginally relaxed his shoulders. “Yes.”
Throwing the cat one final glare, Sōsuke turned on his heel and left the office, leaving Ichigo to face the feline alone.
The cat raised its chin, looking all too smug at their victory.
The expression was short lived however, as Ichigo quickly reached out to grab the cat by the scruff of its neck.
It immediately started hissing and flailing, claws out in a desperate bid at escape, but Ichigo held firm.
“How long are you going to mess around?” She asked sternly, raising the cat so that they were eye level. “Yoruichi?”
The cat froze, all attempts of running off seemingly forgotten, and its golden eyes widened with surprise.
“What’s wrong?” She goaded. “You’re not going to answer me?”
The cat remained uncannily still and let out a soft purr, refusing to break character.
Ichigo narrowed her eyes. “If you don’t transform back in the next five seconds, I’m going to dump you in the Oyabe River, and send you home as a block of ice.”
The cat didn’t respond.
“Five,” Ichigo said firmly. “Four—”
Before she could count any further, there was a small burst of light and a poof of white smoke, which quickly cleared to reveal Yoruichi slumped on the floor of her office, staring up at her with a dumbfounded expression.
And of course, naked as the day she was born.
“How?!” Yoruichi immediately yelled, pushing herself up. “How did you know it was me?!”
Ichigo looked off to the side, unable to hide her amused grin. “Not telling.”
“Tell me!” She demanded, stomping her feet. “My reiatsu was perfectly concealed! There’s no way you could have known!”
What could Ichigo say?
The transformation was indeed immaculate. She just happened to be the one person Yoruichi couldn’t prank.
“Your eyes,” she said vaguely, pointing to her face.
Yoruichi jumped on her arm, clinging to her like a stubborn barnacle.
“Liar!” She howled, trying to shake her shoulders. “No one in their right mind would think I turned into a cat just because we have the same eye colour!”
“I did,” Ichigo said with a shrug.
“Tell me the truth, Ichi-nee!” She yelled, clearly upset.
Ichigo tried to pry the girl off, when a soft knock rapped against the door, which quickly opened to reveal Sōsuke with a fresh cup of tea in hand.
“Kurosaki-taichō, I have—”
He stopped dead in his tracks, as if finally noticing the commotion inside, and his expression of surprise immediately turned murderous.
“Shihōin Yoruichi,” he said darkly, once again reaching for his zanpakutō. “I should have known it was you.”
Ichigo quickly pulled Yoruichi off her arm and moved to stand between them, while grabbing the tea tray in Sōsuke’s hand.
“I’ll take this,” she said smoothly, pushing his blade back into the scabbard. “Let’s not fight in my office, alright?”
If anything, Sōsuke’s scowl deepened as he looked around her to glare at Yoruichi.
“Do you have no shame?” He said scathingly. “Put some clothes on!”
Yoruichi crossed her arms and smirked, clearly unbothered by her nakedness. “Speechless much? Admire it while you can.”
Sōsuke didn’t bat an eye. “What is there to look at? You’re as flat as the ground we’re standing on.”
Ichigo promptly choked on her tea and stared at the boy in shock, unable to believe such words had come out of his mouth.
Yoruichi reeled back as if she had been slapped, and pointed a trembling finger at him.
“What did you just say?!” She shrieked, mouth agape in mirrored shock. “Y-You— ”
“Did your brain turn into that of a cat too?” Sōsuke said scornfully.
Yoruichi, understandably, exploded with rage.
“I’ll fucking kill you!”
Ichigo quickly moved to separate them, shielding Sōsuke behind her as she reached out to grab Yoruichi’s hands, which were crackling with Kidō.
“Not in my office!” She yelled warningly.
“I’ll kill you!” Yoruichi screamed hysterically, eyes ablaze. “You little piece of shit!”
Sōsuke stood on his tippy-toes, trying to look over Ichigo’s shoulder in some asinine display of dominance.
“How?” He said provokingly. “Your shunpo is slower than mine.”
“Sōsuke!” Ichigo admonished, glancing over to frown at him.
“That’s it!” Yoruichi snapped. “You’re so dead, Aizen Sōsuke!”
She flailed against Ichigo’s grasp, screaming with all the rage of her teenage angst, and Ichigo felt a pang of despair as a wayward foot knocked over a stack of paperwork.
Just as she considered getting the three of them outside, the door opened again to reveal Kisuke.
“Nee-san! Have you seen— ”
A beat of silence descended as Ichigo turned to look at the newest arrival, and Yoruichi stopped shrieking to do the same.
“Eh?” Kisuke faltered, eyes widening with surprise as he stared at Yoruichi. “You already transformed back?”
“Kisuke!” Yoruichi cried, pointing across the room at Sōsuke. “Get in here and grab him!”
The blonde, however, crossed his arms and pouted under the doorway. “You were supposed to wait for me! I wanted to see how nee-san reacted!”
Ichigo felt her eye twitch as Yoruichi exploded once again.
“You idiot, she already knew!” She screamed. “Did you tell her?!”
Kisuke looked affronted by the accusation. “What? Of course not!”
“Don’t lie to me!”
“I swear, I didn’t!” Kisuke said hurriedly, shaking his head. “Nee-san, say something!”
Ichigo sighed, and turned to Yoruichi. “He’s telling the truth. I figured it out on my own.”
“How?!” Yoruichi demanded again. “How do you always know?!”
She grinned, and reached out to poke the girl’s forehead. “That’s a secret.”
Yoruichi slumped in her arms, seemingly exhausted of energy. “Since when?”
Ichigo hesitated for a second but decided against lying. “From the moment I saw you.”
Yoruichi wailed in frustration and pretended to sob pitifully in her arms. “It’s not fair!”
Trying to console the poor girl, Ichigo reached out to pat her back, only to notice that she was still stark naked.
“Why don’t you get dressed first?” She asked softly, seeing the extra pair of clothes in Kisuke’s hand. “You’ll catch a cold.”
“No!” Yoruichi yelled, raising her head to glare at Sōsuke again. “Not until I rip that smirk off his face!”
Ichigo turned to him with a firm gaze. “Sōsuke, you should apologise.”
He crossed his arms stubbornly. “She harassed us for weeks.”
“I wasn’t being serious!” Yoruichi insisted.
“You tried to drop a flower pot on my head.”
“It was tiny!”
“You nearly killed Sōya with an icicle.”
“T-That was an accident!”
Ichigo gave her a hard look, not having heard of that particular incident. “Yoruichi.”
The girl sagged her head and whispered under her breath. “Okay, I’m sorry.”
Satisfied with her repentance, Ichigo turned to Sōsuke with an expectant gaze. “And you?”
He curled his lip slightly but yielded. “I apologise for insulting your noble person.”
Yoruichi sniffled and hurriedly put on a plain black robe, clearly still sour about the remark.
“I— I’m just a late bloomer, okay?!”
With that, she threw open the door and stormed out of the office, screaming into the night that she would grow boobs no matter what.
Ichigo pressed her fingers around her temples and turned to Kisuke.
“Go after her, will you?” She asked gently. “Make sure she gets home.”
Kisuke rubbed the back of his neck and grumbled reluctantly, but took off without a word of protest.
The room fell into silence, and Ichigo looked around to see her office in a state of complete disarray. Papers were strewn all over the floor, her ink pot had toppled on its side, and her second cup of tea now decorated her desk as a puddle.
Sosuke gave her a hesitant look before grabbing the fallen tea tray. “…I’ll bring a new one.”
She took in a deep breath, trying to salvage the last of her composure.
“No,” she muttered.
Crouching down, Ichigo opened her desk drawer and reached for the bottle of saké that Kyōraku had stashed in her office.
“I need a drink.”
Ichigo soon reached an impasse.
Having grown up in the midst of lies and conspiracies, she disliked the idea of using her knowledge to control others, especially as someone from the distant future.
Aizen’s very existence, however, left her in an unending dilemma.
She had managed to avoid her Inner World for the past two months, still embarrassed to face him after the Tenshintai ordeal, but she couldn’t escape from his younger self.
Ichigo wondered then, if keeping him in the dark was the right thing to do. While she certainly hoped that Sōsuke would walk down a different path, manipulating his life with secrets and deception wasn’t something that she wanted to pursue.
Ultimately, she knew it wasn’t a decision that she could make alone.
When she finally descended into her Inner World, Ichigo noticed that the ground was flooded as if a low tide had rolled in, and the midday sun reflected brightly on the water’s surface.
She slowly waded through the shallow pool, wondering why her world was partially submerged. Unlike the murky ocean or the dark storms that represented her despair, the water seemed uncannily clean and pure.
“Are you finally done ruminating?”
Ichigo glanced up in surprise to see Aizen sitting along the side of a skyscraper, his chin resting in his hand as he stared languidly into the horizon.
Forcing down her discomfort, Ichigo flickered onto the building beside him and shook her feet over the edge.
“What’s with all this water?” She asked instead.
Aizen didn’t look her way, his gaze still focused ahead. “I was hoping you’d have the answer.”
Ichigo frowned at him from the corner of her eyes, only to do a double take as she took in his disordered appearance.
His skin had a deathly pallor, the paleness near translucent, and his cheekbones weighed heavily under the hollows of his eyes.
All her prior insecurity seemed to vanish, and Ichigo reached out to grab his shoulder, forcing him to look at her.
“Are you sick ?” She demanded, leaning in to examine him.
Aizen smiled crookedly. “Is that concern I hear?”
She scowled, unable to deny the emotion. “Answer me.”
“A temporary affliction,” he said coolly. “The fabric of my soul was damaged— naturally, I’ll bear the outward consequences.”
It was then Ichigo realised that she couldn’t feel his presence as clearly as before, and her fingers slackened in shock.
“Damaged?” She repeated incredulously. “Since when?”
“When do you think?” He asked, raising his brows.
The answer dawned on her like a bolt of lightning and Ichigo nearly flinched. “The Tenshintai?”
“Indeed,” he said with cold eyes. “And here I thought, you had already forgotten about the incident.”
A wave of guilt washed over her, knowing she had purposefully avoided seeing him for weeks.
“Sorry,” she blurted, lowering her gaze. “I… I didn’t mean for any of that to happen.”
“Of course,” he said calmly. “I doubt you would have agreed to Urahara’s bidding had you known.”
She bit her lip, feeling the urge to ask about his well-being, when she noticed a line of cracks running down his arm, like a marble statue on the brink of collapse.
Blinking in shock, she slowly reached out to grab his hand. “How did this happen?”
His fingers were cold against her own, his skin like fragile glass, and Ichigo suddenly feared that he would shatter if she applied even the slightest pressure.
Aizen fell silent, seemingly contemplating his next words before he spoke.
“Depending on the level of disruption, when two souls fail to merge, there is a high chance for them to self-destruct,” he said simply. “Such is the fragility of trying to dissolve the boundaries between souls.”
Ichigo stared at him, appalled by his calm manner of delivery— as if he wasn’t talking about his own soul suicide.
“What?!” She shouted in disbelief, dropping his wrist in shock. “I thought you were just summoned into the doll— how did your souls end up together?”
“The boy’s spiritual energy was a catalyst,” he explained. “If only for a moment, I was drawn into his body and our souls collided.”
“Then?” She asked hesitantly.
“I was rejected,” he said flatly.
Ichigo knew very little regarding the science of merging souls, and could only look at him in confusion. “Why?”
“I can form a few conjectures, but one thing is for certain— my soul is currently incompatible with my younger self.”
She frowned. “How can you be incompatible when you’re the same person?”
Aizen paused, and regarded her with a heavy gaze. “Are we?”
Ichigo jolted slightly, caught off guard by his ambiguous question. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? Are you not?”
He rested his jaw along the back of his hand and smiled wryly. “Every soul has a special framework that is imprinted with memories and sentiments over its lifetime. Such aspects are what makes us unique.”
Her eyes widened, realising the implications.
“Then what happens when a soul separates into two different lives?” She asked uneasily. “Is that why you were rejected?”
“A plausible theory,” he agreed with a nod. “The disparity in our life experiences will naturally widen the rift between us.”
Ichigo quieted, feeling a sense of dejection. She never thought returning Aizen to his physical body would be an easy task, but now the prospect seemed further out of reach.
“But your memories,” she said suddenly, recalling the conversation she had with Sōsuke. “They’re leaking into your younger self.”
Aizen looked unsurprised. “It’s a byproduct of the failed assimilation process. Now that the window has closed, our memories will remain separated.”
Ichigo released a small sigh of relief. She wasn’t sure how long she could have continued to dismiss Sōsuke’s concerns as nothing more than dreams.
“Are you fine with that?” She asked warily, finally getting to the matter at hand. “Leaving him in the dark, I mean.”
He gazed into the distance, seemingly unconcerned. “Knowledge without experience is merely philosophy. If you’re willing to test the alternative, however, I won’t stop you.”
She grit her teeth, knowing he was pushing her into a corner on purpose. “You want me to lie forever?”
“Lying and deceiving are two different things,” he replied. “What you present isn’t a lie, but an opportunity.”
“For what?” She said harshly. “More manipulation and distrust?”
“You can see it that way if you wish,” he said patiently. “But the burden of fate is heavy. Isn’t that why you’ve kept others from knowing the future?”
Ichigo faltered, unable to argue.
From the very beginning, Kyōraku and Ukitake had barred her from speaking about the second Quincy War, but the deaths that loomed in the horizon often felt like an inevitable calamity.
“If I keep withholding the truth, do you think the future will turn out for the better?” She murmured.
“That depends,” Aizen said offhandedly. “Will you stand by and do nothing?”
Ichigo scowled at him. “Of course not.”
He smirked. “Then it doesn’t matter what you choose.”
She paused, surprised by his simple conclusion.
Regardless of her decision, If Sōsuke started making plans against Soul Society, Ichigo would be there to stop him.
That reality had never been in doubt.
“Then what about you?” She asked, shooting him a cautious look.
He raised a brow. “What about me?”
“How am I supposed to get you back into your body, when you and your other half are growing increasingly incompatible?”
Although it was an accident, he had clearly been damaged by the failed merge, and Ichigo was admittedly hesitant to try again.
Aizen cocked his head slightly, and an inscrutable expression momentarily passed through his eyes.
“The amalgamation of souls is a delicate science, however, there is a… particular method you can employ,” he said slowly.
Surprised, she leaned closer in anticipation. “What can I do?”
Aizen raised his hand, and for a moment, she assumed he was reaching for her hair, but his fingers settled around the curve of her neck.
Ichigo stilled, feeling his thumb press against the base of her throat in a deeply intimate yet threatening gesture.
She had no doubt that Aizen still had the strength to harm her, even in his injured state, yet she remained unmoving, wanting to trust his intentions.
“It’s simple,” he said gently, bringing his face close. “Take the boy, just like this—”
His hand tightened ever so slightly around her neck.
“…and kill him.”
A deafening silence fell between them as Ichigo stared blankly into his eyes, wondering if she had misheard.
Yet, there wasn’t a hint of humour in his face.
She parted her lips, still in a numb state of shock. “What?”
He smiled, but the expression didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Souls that are weakened become malleable to change, whether it’s through evolution or assimilation,” he explained calmly. “If our souls successfully merge in the aftermath, he will live.”
“And if it fails?”
“He’ll die,” Aizen said bluntly.
Ichigo looked at him in horror, suddenly struck with the mental image of his younger self dead in her arms.
“That’s insane,” she said fiercely.
Aizen seemed undeterred. “Why do you think Urahara Kisuke forced you to the brink of death when trying to awaken your shinigami powers?”
Memories of her time in the shattered shaft flickered across the forefront of her mind, and Ichigo hitched her breath.
“How do you know about that?” She demanded.
“It's rudimentary science,” Aizen said sardonically. “I utilised this method when creating the Hōgyoku, and I can assure you, Urahara did the same.”
She grimaced, feeling her heart grow cold at the reminder.
Ichigo never liked to dwell on the specifics of Urahara’s past, but there was no doubt that he too, had his hands in many dubious experiments.
“Isn't there another way?” She asked weakly.
He frowned, as if disappointed by her lack of commitment. “For you, this is undoubtedly the easiest method.”
Ichigo stared at him with a bitter face, unexpectedly saddened by his assumption. ”Why do you think it would be easy for me to hurt you?”
Aizen wavered, his eyes widening in surprise, and for a long moment, he didn’t respond.
In the silence, a thousand different words seemed to hang in the air between them, unspoken.
“What if you don’t have a choice?” He said at last.
Ichigo paused, wanting to argue against such an extreme situation, she knew it wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibilities.
What if Sōsuke’s condition suddenly turned for the worse? Or what if the soul tie that anchored Aizen grew unstable?
The thought of losing either of them suddenly weighed on her heart, and she gave Aizen a hard stare, wondering how much he truly knew about his situation.
“If it really comes down to that, I’ll do what I have to do,” she said firmly. “But until then—”
Ichigo grabbed his wrist and slowly twisted his hand off her neck, unwavering and resolute in her decision.
“I’ll find my own way.”
Regardless of what Aizen thought of her, he was no longer her enemy, and Sōsuke was still a child, not yet burdened by his future crimes.
Intentionally putting either of them at risk was out of the question.
Aizen watched her with scrutinising eyes, as if assessing the truth of her words, then slowly relaxed, allowing the tension between them to melt away.
“Truly, your optimism never fails to surprise me,” he murmured, lowering his hand.
Ichigo glowered, unsure if it was an insult or a compliment. “Well one of us has to be in this relationship.”
There was a beat of silence, then Ichigo realised what she had just implied, and her face immediately reddened.
“Is that so?” Aizen remarked, clearly amused.
“W-Wait—“ she stammered. “You know I didn’t mean it like that—”
“Tell me, Ichigo,” he interrupted smoothly, reaching out to stroke her cheek. “What exactly am I to you?”
She choked, suddenly finding him way too close for comfort. “What kind of question—”
Before she could finish, a long shadow fell over both of them, and Ichigo felt the back collar of her shihakushō grabbed by a firm hand.
She had a split second to see Zangetsu’s unimpressed face over her own, before he promptly dragged her away from Aizen and threw her over the side of the skyscraper.
Ichigo didn’t even have time to scream before she opened her eyes with a start, finding herself in her personal quarters, heart racing a mile a minute.
She ran a shaky hand down her face, realising that her cheeks were still flushed with embarrassment.
“Shit, that bastard,” she muttered, inwardly hoping that he heard her.
Somewhere, deep within the recess of her mind, Aizen laughed.
Ichigo knew it was going to be a bad day when she woke up earlier than anticipated. The sun was still yet to rise, and the passing snowfall had been replaced by heavy rain, shrouding the barracks in a distinct gloom.
By mid-morning, the reports she was due were still not on her desk, and a small group of officers who had left on a routine Hollow mission came back with significant injuries.
After spending an hour at the Fourth, Ichigo was returning to her office when she felt something stir in the air.
There was a crackle of spiritual energy, like the stillness before a thunderclap, and the moment Ichigo looked up, an explosion tore through the roof of the Fifth Division barracks.
After a split second of shock, she stepped into a long flicker of shunpo, reappearing in the central garden to see a cloud of dust and debris rising from a wrecked building.
Her eyes scanned the area to assess the situation, having expected an intruder or an enemy attack, only to discover the figures of Shinji and Sōsuke standing at odds inside their shared office.
The office which now had a giant hole blown through its back wall and roof.
She could sense the tension between them, and immediately knew that their usual squabble had escalated into something serious.
Frustration filled her chest as she approached the ruined office, only to notice Sumi slumped on the floor between them amidst a pile of rubble, holding her bloodied head.
Ichigo stopped dead in her tracks, feeling her annoyance instantly turn into disbelief as the realisation of what had happened registered in her mind.
Then the last thread of her composure snapped.
Her heart swelled with anger as her reiatsu violently tore through the air, slipping through her ironclad control for the first time in decades.
The boys immediately faltered, staggering under the weight of her spiritual pressure, and Shinji fell to his knees with wide, trembling eyes, as if finally noticing her presence. “T-Taichō—”
“What the hell are you two doing?” Ichigo snarled.
She took a measured step into the wrecked office and the floorboards crumbled under her feet, disintegrating into reishi as her spiritual energy began to pour out in heavy waves.
Thunder rolled in the distance, and the light rainfall suddenly turned into a torrential downpour, drenching everyone within a matter of seconds.
Ichigo scowled deeply, taking note of the gash along Sōsuke’s cheek and the wound on Shinji’s arm, both of which were dripping blood. The aftershocks of Kidō still lingered in the air, and she glared furiously between the two boys.
“Speak,” she ordered sharply. “Or have you finally lost all sense of reason, that you would resort to harming someone in the midst of your senseless feud?!“
Sōsuke kept his head bowed, frozen in place by her reiatsu.
“I…” he said tightly, clutching his chest with a strained voice. “I didn’t mean—”
A small hand suddenly grabbed the hem of her shihakushō, and Ichigo looked down to see Sumi staring at her with pleading eyes.
“I-It was my fault!” She said hurriedly, gasping between words as she struggled to breathe. “I jumped between them— p-please, don’t be angry—”
Seeing her pain, Ichigo immediately forced her reiatsu to heel, and the pressure dissipated.
Across the room, Shinji collapsed onto his hands with heaving breaths, and Sōsuke finally raised his head, shaking from exertion.
Wiping the rain off her face, Ichigo sighed heavily and tried to suppress her anger, knowing that she needed to remain level-headed.
“Kurosaki-taichō!”
Ichigo turned to see Hayashi run towards her, hand on the hilt of his zanpakutō as if prepared to fight. Behind him, a small team of senior officers also arrived to check the scene.
Sōya pushed through the crowd, his eyes widening in shock as he noticed Sumi amongst the rubble and screamed, “Nee-san!”
The boy ran over and quickly knelt beside his sister, looking utterly distraught as he hooked his arm around her shoulders.
“I-I’m fine,” Sumi said faintly, trying to wipe the blood out of her eyes. “It’s just a scratch.”
Ignoring the girl’s bravado, Ichigo turned to one of the officers, who she knew was capable of healing Kidō. “Arai— accompany Sōya and take Sumi to the Fourth.”
The man quickly stepped forward and bowed. “Yes, taichō!”
“Hayashi,” she called next, not wasting any time. “Contact the Seventh Division and submit a labour request for the building— anything that’s salvageable, move it to the spare office.”
He nodded swiftly before giving her a worried look. “Yes.”
Ichigo then turned to look at Shinji and Sōsuke with narrowed eyes. They both flinched under her gaze, clearly aware of their predicament. “As for you two—”
She moved towards Shinji first, grabbing him by the upper arm before she reappeared beside Sōsuke to do the same.
“Come with me.”
Moving at breakneck speed, Ichigo flickered out of the Fifth Division barracks and headed towards the outskirts of Seireitei. Within seconds, she arrived at an empty field near the northern gate, and released Shinji and Sōsuke onto the muddy grass.
They staggered to balance themselves, clearly disorientated by the aggressive shunpo pace, and Shinji dry heaved into the ground before looking up at her with wide eyes.
“Kurosaki-taichō— I— I didn’t mean to— it was an accident!” he said frantically, trying to explain himself.
Sōsuke quickly got to his feet, and shot the blonde a glare from the corner of his eyes. “A bare-faced lie— Sumi warned you not to act recklessly.”
“She was talking to you too!” Shinji shouted angrily. “Don’t pretend like you’re innocent!”
“I acted in self-defence,” Sōsuke snarled, curling his lip. “It was your kidō that hurt Sumi.”
“Bullshit! ” Shinji hissed, raising his shoulders. “She wouldn’t have gotten hurt if you didn’t deflect it straight at her head!”
Sōsuke snorted. “Did you expect me to just stand there? How is your lack of self-restraint my problem?”
“Lack of restraint?” Shinji screeched, his face twisted in rage. “You’ve been insulting me for the last decade!”
“And you’ve been trying to undermine me at every opportunity!” Sōsuke shot back. “You think I don’t know about the rumours you’ve spread?”
“You’re a fucking snake!” Shinji said furiously. “I never trusted you, and I never will!”
Something in Sōsuke’s eyes snapped, and his expression darkened. “And you’re a fool, who’s arrogance is only exceeded by your incompetence!”
Shinji unsheathed his zanpakutō. “You—”
“Stop!”
Ichigo stepped between the two boys as her spiritual energy flared, forcing Shinji and Sōsuke apart.
“That's enough,” she said, raising both of her hands as she grimaced wearily. “I understand now— this is my fault.”
The tension dropped as both Shinji and Sōsuke turned to her with wide-eyed confusion.
She sighed.
“I hoped that the two of you would grow past your differences with time, but it seems to have had the opposite effect,” she said with a bitter smile. “This is my failure as your Captain.”
She had been lenient with their verbal spats for years, unwilling to force their relationship, but it proved that no matter the universe, Shinji and Sōsuke were always fated to be enemies.
”I will have both of you transferred out into separate divisions,” Ichigo said firmly.
She assumed the idea would be well received, considering that they could finally get away from each other, but neither gave her the reaction she was expecting.
Shinji froze in shock, and his zanpakutō dropped onto the mud beside his feet.
Sōsuke however, seemed to shatter entirely, his face twisting into fraught realisation.
“I’ll take responsibility for this incident, and make sure you’re both transferred without a demotion,” she continued reassuringly. “If you have a particular squad in mind— ”
“No,” Sōsuke abruptly cut in, his eyes wide with panic. “I’ll take any punishment— any penalty— anything else but this.”
“M-Me too!” Shinji said quickly, bringing his hands together in a pleading gesture. “I know I was wrong! I swear it won’t happen again— please, don’t send me away!”
Ichigo faltered, surprised by their adamant refusal to leave the Fifth.
“Then what will you have me do?” she said harshly, crossing her arms. “Clearly your disdain for each other is of higher priority than your respect for me.”
Shinji flinched and lowered his head in shame, and Sōsuke clenched his hands, unable to refute her.
In the midst of their silence, the rain continued to fall.
Feeling her chest ache, Ichigo raised her head with a weary expression, wondering how everything seemed to go wrong today.
Then Sōsuke finally spoke.
“Kurosaki-taichō, I request a Duel of Rites.”
Ichigo blinked in shock and snapped her head down to stare at him, thinking she had misheard.
A Duel of Rites was an ancient tradition between noble families to settle disputes and grudges. Some duelled for honour while others fought to the death, but the practice had gradually fallen out of favour over the past few centuries.
“Do you truly know what you’re asking for?” she said slowly, narrowing her eyes at the younger boy.
While formal duels were usually done between nobles, commoners could also challenge each other if they had a member of nobility as a witness.
“I do,” Sōsuke said seriously, before turning his gaze towards Shinji. “Do you?”
“I know what a Duel of Rites is,” Shinji remarked coldly, reaching down to pick up his fallen zanpakutō. “I accept.”
Ichigo opened her mouth, about to dissuade their sudden agreement when Sōsuke stepped closer to Shinji with a stony expression.
“To first blood.”
“Deal,” Shinji snapped. “If I win, you’ll leave the Fifth Division and never return.”
Sōsuke smirked, looking unperturbed. “Very well.”
Shinji glared back. “And your terms?”
“There’s nothing I could possibly want from you,” Sōsuke said with a mocking grin. “My terms of victory are for Kurosaki-taichō, should she choose to accept.”
Shinji glared at him and grit his teeth. “And if she refuses?”
Sōsuke paused slightly before seemingly dismissing the concern. “Then I will accept her refusal and request nothing more.”
Ichigo frowned as the situation quickly escalated, torn between stopping the fight and allowing the two of them to finally face each other.
Ultimately, she understood that as Shinigami, crossing blades was often the best form of communication.
“Are you going to run away— even with nothing to lose?” Sōsuke goaded.
Shinji scoffed and raised his chin. “Fine. Don’t go crying in regret later.”
The two boys then turned to her, as if awaiting her verdict. By the look on their faces, it was obvious that neither would back down any longer.
Ichgio sighed and pressed her fingers around her temples to ease her sudden headache.
“I’ll allow the duel one condition,” she said sternly, meeting their gaze. “Regardless of who wins, you will both apologise to Sumi, and swear to never repeat what happened today.”
Shinji hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding. “I understand.”
Sōsuke smiled, and his eyes seemed to gleam under the rain. “Yes, Kurosaki-taichō.”
Feeling somewhat conflicted by their compliance, Ichigo firmed her resolve and extended her arm out between them. “Move ten steps back.”
They walked to opposite sides, separated by a distance that could still be bridged by a single shunpo step, and Sōsuke reached over his shoulder to unsheathe his zanpakutō.
A thick layer of tension fell over the open field, and Ichigo glanced between the two, inwardly hoping that she was making the right decision.
“Begin.”
The fight started with a clash of steel, with Shinji moving on the offensive and Sōsuke parrying at every turn. Their swords sang with every impact, indicating the level of force from both opponents.
Neither attempted to release their shikai just yet, and Ichigo knew this was more than a duel for honour— it was years and years of frustration finally culminating to a breaking point.
Shinji swung wildly, his eyes filled with resentment as he moved with aggressive strikes at every opening, but Sōsuke remained eerily calm under the assault, dodging with a sort of efficiency that Ichigo only saw in her fellow Captains.
It was just as she expected.
Even as a child, Sōsuke was leagues ahead of his peers, and his rapid growth over the last decade had proved to her why Aizen had ended up the way he did.
She felt a pang of sympathy for Shinji, knowing that he was considered an excellent Shinigami with great potential— but was shadowed by Sōsuke’s genius from the very beginning of their relationship.
“Stop running and fight me, you coward!” Shinji yelled, swiping at the younger boy’s neck.
Sōsuke easily evaded the strike, then reappeared behind the blonde in a flicker of shunpo.
“Hadō 4: Byakurai.”
A thin bolt of lightning shot from his palm, and Shinji twisted his head, barely avoiding the Kidō as it blasted into the storm clouds above them.
He staggered across the slippery mud trying to regain balance, and lifted his face to stare at Sōsuke in shock. “You—”
“I missed on purpose,” Sōsuke said calmly, lowering his hand. “But I won’t next time.”
Shinji bared his teeth and snarled. “You should have hit me while you had a chance!”
Falling into a wider stance, he raised his zanpakutō in front of him and flared his reiatsu.
“Collapse, Sakanade!”
The moment Shinji released his shikai, there was a shift of something in the atmosphere, a strange but familiar feeling that Ichigo immediately recognised.
She turned to Sōsuke with wide eyes, only to see that he hadn’t moved an inch or spoken a word.
Yet the feeling was unmistakable.
There was a lull in the air, as if the world had stopped rotating on its axis— an inexplicable sensation that she could never forget, no matter how many years it had been.
And Ichigo instantly knew—
Kyōka Suigetsu had been activated.
Shinji collapsed to his knees like a puppet with its strings cut, and the anger on his face vanished, leaving behind a blank expression with nothing reflected in his eyes. Sakanade clattered onto the ground beside him, and its pink mist slowly dissipated with the wind and rain.
If she hadn’t known any better, Ichigo would have assumed he was dead.
Sōsuke began walking forward, gradually closing the distance between them with measured steps until he stopped right in front of Shinji’s crumpled figure.
Ichigo tensed, wondering if she should interfere.
She had never seen Kyōka Suigetsu used in such a way, but it was obvious that Shinji had all of his senses blocked to the point of losing awareness of his own body.
For a long moment, Sōsuke stood still, as if contemplating his next actions, then he slowly lowered his sword.
Just as quickly as it occurred, the chains of hypnosis lifted, and Shinji collapsed face down, seemingly unconscious.
Ichigo moved in with a flash of shunpo and crouched beside Shinji to check his condition, only to note a small scrape on his forehead from hitting the dirt.
She released a small sigh of relief, knowing it was finished. “The duel is over.”
Contrary to her expectations, Sōsuke seemed more tense than before, and he turned to her with a pensive frown.
“Kurosaki-taichō, are you disappointed in me?”
Surprised by his sudden vulnerability, Ichigo softened her eyes. “Why would I be? As your Captain, it’s my duty to correct you, not shame you.”
A flicker of anxiety appeared across his face before he lowered his head. “I lied about my zanpakutō.”
Ichigo blinked, realising that she had never cared for the truth since she already knew.
“Many shinigami choose not to share their secrets.” she said honestly. “You were never obligated to tell me.”
Sōsuke slowly raised his head, his gaze filled with apprehension. “The truth is… Kyōka Suigetsu was never a water-type zanpakutō,” he said quietly. “Its true power is to control the five senses. Once you see its release, the hypnosis will affect you forever.”
Ichigo regarded him with surprise, allowing a beat of silence to fall between them. She had never expected him to reveal the truth of his zanpakutō, and she was beginning to doubt just how much she understood his character.
The trust that he was extending to her in revealing his powers, went completely against what she knew about Aizen’s original nature.
Crouching in front of him, she reached out to shield his face from the rain. “Thank you for being honest,” she said sincerely. “It’s certainly a powerful ability.”
Sōsuke looked at her with surprise. “Are you not worried?”
Ichigo tilted her head and smiled. “Why? Will you try to hypnotise me?”
Years ago, she had asked Aizen a similar question, wondering why he never bothered showing her his shikai, and the man had responded with an even more obscure answer.
“Ichigo—”
His eyes narrowed as his face loomed over hers, solemn and unyielding.
Sōsuke frowned in displeasure, as if he was offended by the mere suggestion.
“Kurosaki-taichō—”
“I would never use it against you.”
For a moment, Ichigo could only stare, utterly dumbfounded and unable to believe her own ears.
How was it possible for both of them to say the same exact thing?
She felt a laugh of disbelief escape her throat as she regarded him with a sense of amusement.
“Then I’m not worried,” she said gently, shaking her head. “I trust you.”
Sōsuke blinked quickly and averted his eyes, as if flustered by her sudden declaration.
“T-Then will you listen to my request?” He asked, seemingly both hurried and anxious.
“Tell me,” she encouraged with a nod.
Shifting restlessly from foot to foot, he wrung his hands together before collecting his breath.
“Kurosaki-taichō, I’m strong, right?” He asked with wide, hopeful eyes.
Ichigo paused, not having expected such a question but nodded nonetheless. “You are.”
“I can do anything you ask me,” he continued rapidly. “I can learn faster than anyone else, and I can work harder and become even stronger in the future, so please—”
He lifted his hand towards her, open and earnest.
“Choose me.”
The exact nature of his request was left unspoken, but Ichigo already knew he was referring to the empty Lieutenant spot.
From the moment she was made Captain, she had been refusing transfers and suggestions from the Central 46 who wished to use the position for political gain. The squabble between Shinji and Sōsuke was easy to ignore in comparison.
Ichigo had no doubt that Sōsuke was more than capable of taking on the role, but his motives at such a young age remained unclear.
“Why do you want the position so badly?” She asked directly. “There’s no need to feel rushed.”
Did he aspire for greater authority within the division? Or was he hoping for fame and power as a commoner who could otherwise get trampled by the Seireitei nobility?
Sōsuke frowned in confusion, and stared at her as if the answer was obvious. “Because it’s the spot closest to you, Kurosaki-taichō.”
Ichigo blinked and gave him an incredulous look. “…Is that all?”
He stammered slightly as his cheeks reddened. “I… also want to work with you in the same office.”
Realising that she had grossly misunderstood him, Ichigo pressed her face into her hand and sighed inwardly from embarrassment.
It was moments such as these that she stood at a crossroad— if Ichigo continued to think of him with suspicion, she would only be creating her own self-fulfilling prophecy.
His outstretched hand began to lower, his fingers curling in forfeit, but before he could fully drop his arm, Ichigo reached out to grab him.
“Six months,” she said firmly, meeting his wide eyes. “If you can show me that you’re serious about taking responsibility and managing your behaviour with others, I’ll consider you for the position.”
Sōsuke began nodding vigorously, and his eyes shined with fervent hope. “I-I will! I swear, I won’t disappoint you!”
“Good,” she said with a nod, straightening up. “Now if there’s nothing else, let’s return to the Fifth.” Due to their fiasco in the office, Ichigo suspected that they now had months of paperwork to redo.
She reached for Shinji, intent on carrying him back, when Sōsuke intercepted her hands with his own.
“I’ll take him,” he said quickly.
Ichigo raised her brows with pleasant surprise. Once Shinji regained consciousness, she was worried the two would never be amicable again, but seeing Sōsuke offer his hand gave her a small semblance of hope.
“You will?” She asked.
“Of course,” he insisted, easily throwing Shinji’s unconscious body over his shoulders. “He would dirty your white haori, taichō.”
“…”
Ichigo didn’t have to see herself to know she looked like a drowned rat. After standing in the rain for the past hour, all three of them were drenched from head to toe, it certainly wouldn't have mattered.
Sighing in exasperation, Ichigo held her tongue and began leading them back towards Seireitei. Behind her, Sōsuke followed along with a carefree expression, and a triumphant smile lingered on his lips, as if everything that had happened was somehow all according to his plan.
Something stirred in the back of her mind, and Ichigo couldn’t help but wonder— perhaps Sōsuke wasn’t any different from Aizen after all.
He was simply that— a smaller version.
Notes:
Poor Shinji. I think he'll recover from the loss eventually, but this will probably leave a wound on his pride for many years 😅 And thus concludes the battle for Ichigo's lieutenant.
The concept of souls in Bleach is something that I researched a lot for this chapter, and I was actually inspired by Starrk and Lilynette— two completely different and distinct individuals that started with the same soul. It's interesting that when they merge together for their Resurrección, they still have separate minds. And while not entirely the same, Kenpachi and Yachiru are so strangely unique too.
Another big time skip coming next chapter, sorry I had to cram so much in this one (I just want Sōsuke to grow up as soon as possible 😉)
Chapter 18
Notes:
Happy December everyone! ❤️💚 This story has hit some pretty big milestones recently and I just wanted to give a huge thank you to everyone leaving kudos, comments, and bookmarks 🥰 I was absolutely blown away by the reception from last chapter, and I found myself reading through all your comments whenever I felt stressed.
Secondly, I did want to clarify everyone's age, as I noticed there was some confusion in the comments (which is 100% on me for not being clear, so I apologise 😓) Based on some calculations I did for Toshiro and Byakuya (from TBtP), I've deduced that 150 years for a shinigami equals to about 20 years for a human, and they age very slowly from there. So in terms of physical development, including this chapter's latest time skip, Shinji is 21, Urahara, Yoruichi, and Sumi are 18, and Soya and Sosuke are 14. So yes, our favourite stabby boy isn't quite towering over everyone just yet, but you know when they say about teenage hormones 😏 hehe. See you at the end note!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Twenty Years Later
-
Kanō Ashido once considered himself a fortunate man.
Although he was a commoner, he was talented enough to join the Shin’ō Academy and eventually move his way up the ranks, becoming a Lieutenant of the Eleventh Division.
For nearly a hundred years, he had served the Gotei 13 with solemn pride, hoping to make a difference as a Shinigami bound to the duty of protecting others and eliminating Hollows.
Until the incident at Sector 139.
Within a span of twenty-four hours, he had gone from conducting an investigation in the Living World, to fighting for his life after being hurled into Hueco Mundo with all of his squadmates dead and no way home.
He spent the first ten years wandering the endless desert, fueled by a heart of vengeance for his fallen comrades and a desperate will to survive.
If there was no way to leave, he would do everything in his power to take down as many Hollows until the day he died.
Then Captain Kuruyashiki appeared.
It was perhaps the first time in his life that he completely froze in the midst of battle, and he wondered if his mind had finally cracked from the years of isolation.
“Look alive, Ashido!”
Returning to his senses with a jolt, he dodged an incoming Hollow just as Captain Kuruyashiki came barreling into the fight.
“T-Taichō?!” He stammered, feeling his heart race in shock.
The two fell back to back, cutting through the Hollows in a well coordinated rhythm, and Kuruyashiki grinned over his shoulder.
“What? Not happy to see me?”
Within seconds, the group of Menos were quickly overwhelmed, and Ashido turned to face the man behind him with wide eyes.
“Is it really you?” he asked shakily.
Captain Kuruyashiki smoothly sheathed his zanpakutō, and Ashido noted that his white haori had been replaced by a simple brown cloak. His clothes were worn, clearly battered by the harsh elements of Hueco Mundo.
“It’s me,” Kuruyashiki nodded, reaching out to grab his shoulder in a reassuring grip. “I came to bring you all back.”
The realisation dawned on him like a tidal wave, and Ashido felt all the strength leave his body.
“Y-You came for us?” He said breathlessly. “How long have you…?”
“I came as soon as I could,” Kuruyashiki said firmly, before sighing. “But I didn’t think it would take me ten years to find you.”
Ten years.
All this time, he had lamented his fate alone, but it turned out that his captain had been in Hueco Mundo with him.
Ashido lowered his head, feeling his chest tighten with sorrow. “Taichō, I’m sorry— I failed to protect the others! If I had been stronger, I could have—”
“No,” Kuruyashiki said sternly, grabbing his arm. “Don’t blame yourself. I should have never ordered you to chase the remaining Hollows into the garganta. The responsibility is mine to bear.”
Ashido opened his mouth, ready to further confess his guilt, when he noticed something strange with the silhouette of Captain Kuruyashiki’s cloak.
The way it draped off his left shoulder, it almost looked as if—
He reached out and impulsively pulled the cloak aside, revealing Kuruyashiki’s tattered shihakushō underneath, and the empty space on the left side of his body.
His arm was gone.
“Taichō, y-your arm!” He said faintly, horrified at the discovery.
“Oh, this?” Kuruyashiki said nonchalantly, glancing down at his remaining shoulder. “Don’t worry, it’s been gone for years now.”
“How— who…?” He stumbled over his words, unable to get over the shock.
Kuruyashiki sighed. “Have you been to the Central Plains? It’s a region controlled by a Vasto Lorde named Barragan Luisenbān.”
Ashido nodded with a frown. “I passed through his territory when I first arrived. The Hollows there were extremely vicious and powerful.”
“They’re all under Barragan’s command,” Kuruyashiki said, crossing his arms. “He was the one who sent Lerroi Gael into Sector 139.”
Recalling the fateful incident, Ashido blinked in surprise. “Why?”
“I never learned,” Kuruyashiki said, shaking his head. “As soon as he heard that I was the one who killed Lerroi, he demanded my head. I admit, I was initially caught off guard by his ability, but he also underestimated mine.”
Ashido glanced at his captain’s missing arm, wondering what sort of monstrous power Barragan held. “Is he still alive?”
Kuruyashiki huffed and rubbed his head. “Unfortunately, yes. I didn’t think it was possible, but he survived after getting swallowed by my bankai. However, I did manage to destroy his castle and bury the entirety of his army.”
Captain Kuruyashiki’s bankai, Gagaku Kairō, was explicitly banned by the Central 46 due to its destructive nature. If left unchecked, he had no doubt that it could eventually devour all of Seireitei.
It was hard to imagine how anyone could survive Gagaku Kairō’s assault, and Ashido hoped he never had to cross paths with the self-proclaimed King of Hueco Mundo.
“What about the Eleventh Division?” Ashido asked with a sudden jolt of realisation. “How could Soul Society send you here alone?”
As far as he knew, the Kidō Corps didn’t have direct access to Hueco Mundo, and the Central 46 had strict rules that prohibited Captains from leaving their posts for more than a month.
At this, Kuruyashiki’s lips twisted into a derisive smile. “They didn’t send me. I came here alone because I left against orders.”
A deafening silence settled between them as Ashido stared at the older man in shock, trying to make sense of what he had just heard.
Captain Kuruyashiki had come to Hueco Mundo by deserting his duty.
He had given up his title, his honour, his legacy— all to save them.
Ashido fell to his knees, suddenly overwhelmed by an onslaught of emotions. Disbelief, guilt, and regret, yet within the darkness of shame and remorse— gratitude.
“Kuruyashiki-taichō— why—?” he choked out.
You should have left us for dead.
Kuruyashiki crouched beside him, settling on a mound of sand as he stared into the horizon with a calm face.
“How could I remain in Seireitei knowing my men were trapped in Hueco Mundo? The choice was obvious, and I have never once regretted coming here— so don’t look at me like that.”
Ashido gave a strained nod and held his face in his hands.
“My only regret is that I couldn’t save the others who had come with you,” Kuruyashiki said softly. “It must have been a heavy burden for you, all these years.”
A wave of grief washed over him at the reminder of his comrades, and Ashido quickly shook his head. “They died honourably in battle, and I was able to bury them in the Forest of Menos.”
Kuruyashiki turned to him, eyes widening in surprise. “Will you take me there?”
“Of course,” he nodded with a bitter smile. “I’m sure they would be overjoyed to hear your voice, taichō.”
Kuruyashiki got to his feet with a chuckle. “I am no longer the Captain of Eleventh Division. I can only bring empty platitudes and a plea for their forgiveness.”
“I disagree,” Ashido said with a frown. “Regardless of who replaces you in the Gotei, you will always be our leader.”
“I see you’re still as stubborn as ever,” Kuruyashiki said with a wry smile, reaching out to grab his shoulder. “Let us walk and talk— there’s still much we have left to discuss.”
Ashido rose to his feet and turned towards the night sky, feeling his spirits lift for the first time in years. A sense of tranquillity settled over his heart, and he knew for certain— he would never again have to journey through the desert alone.
Under the endless night, the years continued to pass.
The first ten years had felt unbearably long, but with Captain Kuruyashiki’s arrival, the following decade seemed to move in a blink of an eye.
Eventually, he came to terms with the prospect of spending the rest of his life in Hueco Mundo, considering Soul Society declared him dead, and Kuruyashiki a traitor.
Their peace, however, was gradually disrupted.
Within the last year, a powerful group of Adjuchas began to hunt them in droves, driven by Barragan Luisenbān’s command.
After surviving the destruction of his empire, the King of Hueco Mundo eventually rebuilt his castle, subdued a new army of Hollows, and placed a bounty on Captain Kuruyashiki’s head.
Whoever brought him the Shinigami, dead or alive, would be granted glory beyond their imagination.
With the new onslaught of enemies, Ashido found himself in a constant state of fight or flight, unable to keep pace with the powerful Hollows that seemed to follow them at every turn.
He could only watch as his existence slowly became a burden to the man who had come to rescue him, and before long, his worst fears had come to pass.
Pinned under the foot of a Hollow, Ashido gasped for air as his neck was crushed into the sand, unable to move as a powerful cero began charging above his head.
“Ashido!”
He strained against the Adjuchas, wanting to scream at Captain Kuruyashiki to just let him die, but all he could force out was a strained cry.
He couldn’t bear to be a hindrance anymore.
Just as the cero was about to explode, the Hollow was blasted by a beam of blue light from behind and crumpled onto the ground— dead.
Ashido blinked in shock, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths as he sagged against the sand with relief.
Turning his head, he spotted two figures walking through a cloud of dust, and his sense of relief immediately turned into despair.
Two Vasto Lorde Hollows had arrived.
One was entirely white, with a pair of large black wings dragging behind him, and the second was slightly taller, with a cloak of grey fur over his shoulders, and a wolf-like mask over his face.
The weight of their reiatsu was unlike anything Ashido had ever experienced, and he wondered for a bleak moment, if he would die from their spiritual pressure alone.
As his mind teetered on the edge of consciousness, a large shadow fell over him, and he sluggishly opened his eyes to see Captain Kuruyashiki standing over his body in a protective stance.
“Get up!” he yelled hurriedly. “I’ll hold them back while you run!”
There was a tremor in his voice, a shadow of fear that Ashido had never heard from his Captain before, and he instantly knew that their situation was dire.
One Vasto Lorde was enough of a threat— fighting two of them was a death sentence.
Ashido clenched his jaw, trying to gather the last of his strength.
“N-No,” he said, trying to push himself up with his hands. “I won’t leave you—”
“Run, you fool!” Kuruyashiki ordered, sending him a thunderous scowl. “They only want me!”
The two Hollows came to a stop a short distance away, and Ashido raised his head to stare at them with wide eyes.
It was over.
The taller of the two Hollows suddenly lifted his hand and pointed in their direction.
“That’s him, isn’t it?”
The white Hollow stared at them unblinkingly, his bright golden eyes gleaming with scrutiny. “Which one?”
“The one that’s standing,” The first Hollow said with a hint of exasperation. “She said to look for a shinigami with brown hair.”
The second Hollow regarded them impassively. “He seems weak for a captain.”
“He is missing an arm.”
“Hn.”
Before they could continue their conversation, Captain Kuruyashiki took a firm step forward and raised his zanpakutō.
“You would do well not to underestimate me!” he snarled, flaring his reiatsu. “I don’t know what Barragan promised you, but a fight with me will be a fight to the death!”
There was a beat of silence as neither Vasto Lorde spoke, and they turned to stare at each other.
The white Hollow titled his head. “Barragan?”
The other shrugged. “Never met him.”
“Likewise.”
Another stretch of silence fell over the dunes, and Ashido stared blankly in confusion as Kuruyashiki faltered, equally taken aback by their response.
Then one of the Hollows spoke directly at Kuruyashiki, shattering the tension between them.
“Aren’t you the shinigami that was sent here by Kurosaki Ichigo?”
Ashido blinked, then swivelled his head to look at the man in question.
Over the past decade, there was only one instance Captain Kuruyashiki mentioned the leader of the Fifth Division, and Ashido would have never expected that he would hear her name spoken again, much less from a pair of Hollows.
“How do you know that?” Kuruyashiki demanded.
“She told us.”
He spoke as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, and Ashido felt his head spin at the ridiculous notion.
How could any Shinigami, much less a Captain of the Gotei 13 have such a casual relationship with two Vasto Lorde Hollows in Hueco Mundo?
Kuruyashiki, however, lowered his sword with wide eyes. “You… really know her?”
“It doesn’t matter,” the white Hollow said curtly. “You shinigami don’t belong here.”
The Vasto Lorde stretched out his hand and methodically tapped the empty space beside him, creating a long black line that warped the surrounding air and abruptly tore open, revealing the turbulent darkness of the Garganta.
“Leave this place,” the Hollow ordered.
Ashido strained to push himself onto his feet, and he stared at the portal before turning to Captain Kuruyashiki with a worried look, unsure of how to proceed.
Was it truly that easy?
“Taichō,” he muttered, trying to keep his voice low. “Can we trust them?”
They had no way to check where the Garganta would open. For all they knew, it could send them straight into Barragan’s territory.
Kuruyashiki seemed to think the same thing, and narrowed his eyes. “Where does this lead?”
This time, it was the Hollow with the wolf mask who answered. “The Living World.”
“Why there?” Kuruyashiki asked stiffly. “We’re shinigami.”
The Hollow shrugged. “Apparently, it’s a good place to retire.”
Ashido frowned in confusion, but before he could think of a response, Captain Kuruyashiki threw his head back and laughed, hand clutching his face as if the weight of the world had suddenly lifted off his shoulders.
It was the first time in years Ashdio had heard his captain laugh so joyously, and he stared at the older man in disbelief.
Lowering his hand, Kuruyashiki sheathed his zanpakutō and beckoned to him. “Let’s go, Ashido.”
“Taichō—?”
Without looking back, Kuruyashiki walked straight into the opening of the Garganta, and unwilling to let him go alone, Ashido could only muster his courage and chase after his captain.
Glancing over his shoulder, he noted the two Vasto Lorde Hollows standing at the mouth of the portal, seemingly uninterested in following after them.
Just as quickly as they entered, the gateway closed, enclosing them in endless darkness, and Ashido felt a shiver run down his back.
“Kuruyashiki-taichō!” he yelled, trying to chase after the man. “Why did you—”
“Ashido, look.”
Up ahead, the Garganta was already opening to their destination, and Ashido squinted, suddenly blinded by a light at the end of the tunnel.
He staggered out of the Garganta, trying to shield his eyes from the overwhelming brightness, and felt a wave of gentle heat roll across his skin.
Sensing the firm earth beneath his feet, he peered through his eyelids, only to see the source of the blinding light hovering in the sky, and he felt his shoulders slack in realisation.
He had not seen the sun in nearly twenty years.
“This…” he said breathlessly, trying to take in his surroundings.
They had arrived at the edge of a wide dirt road, with shops and vendors littered amongst well built homes. A few humans walked around the street, completely oblivious to their arrival.
The Garganta began to close behind them, and Ashido glanced over his shoulder in a state of disbelief, only to notice a large shrine situated in the distance, and a sense of familiarity struck him like a bolt of lightning.
It was the same shrine he remembered seeing at the edge of Sector 139.
Heart lodged in his throat, Ashido stared up at Captain Kuruyashiki, only to see a similar expression of awe on his face, having come to the same realisation.
“Taichō,” he murmured, shaking his head. “How are we… here?”
Kuruyashiki raised his face towards the sky, as if trying to absorb the warmth of the sun, and for a long moment, he didn’t respond.
“Ashido,” he said at last, a hint of weariness in his voice. “If you value your life—”
He shook his head and smiled.
“Don’t ask.”
Ichigo would never admit it to the man himself, but Aizen had been right about her scholarly pursuits.
She truly had no talent for science.
Staring at the remains of a soul that she had just crushed the life out of was enough of a sign.
A polite knock drew her attention, and Ichigo turned to see Kirio Hikifune standing under the doorway.
“I felt a disturbance earlier,” she said with a worried face. “Is everything alright?”
Ichigo sighed and glanced down at the mess in her hands. “I’m sorry, I destroyed another one of your gikongan.”
Hikifune approached her side and smiled reassuringly. “They’re just artificial souls— it’s nothing to be sorry about.”
Ichigo grimaced, unable to ease her guilt.
After Hikifune had invented the means to use substitute souls, her creation had been lauded as one of the greatest contributions to Soul Society, and was immediately sent into mass production.
For most shinigami, artificial souls were merely that— a one dimensional imitation that would complete its job as it was programmed.
For Ichigo, she couldn’t help but think of Kon, who was perhaps a more advanced version, but created just like the others from a small green pill.
A pill which she had just crushed with her spiritual pressure.
“It was going to self-destruct,” she said sadly, “and I was afraid it would cause collateral damage if I didn’t destroy it.”
She had already ruined a small lab inside the Twelfth Division years ago, and Ichigo wasn’t keen on going through the embarrassment again.
Hikifune peered at the remains in her hands before reaching for a small beaker. “Will you let me take a look?”
Ichigo hesitated for a moment before carefully funnelling the pieces inside with a silent nod.
Taking the beaker, Hikifune walked over to a small tank of viscous liquid and poured the contents inside, then turned to tap at the screen attached to the glass.
“What were you trying to do?” She asked kindly.
Knowing there was no way around her questioning, Ichigo sighed quietly. “I was trying to combine two of the gikongan together.”
“That’s it?” Hikifune blinked and turned to stare at her. “Did you wipe their memories and core data first?”
She shook her head. “I wanted to retain their individual intelligence.”
Hikifune paused, and a small frown formed between her brows. “That makes things more difficult, but they should still merge successfully if one completely devours the other.”
Ichigo felt her mouth run dry and she stared down at her hands. “I… was hoping to avoid that too.”
Hikifune hummed thoughtfully, and tapped her chin. “Did you use them at all?”
“Only a few times since you gave them to me,” she answered.
As a Captain, Ichigo didn’t get many chances to go to the Living World with a gigai, and she was certain that an excess of such behaviour would warrant suspicion from the Central 46.
“So you’re trying to merge them together with all of their inherited data still in place— without one half overpowering the other?”
She nodded tightly.
Hikifune exhaled softly and dropped her hand. “I’m afraid that’s impossible. The very nature of assimilating souls means binding their foundation. Besides, the longer they are separated—”
“The harder it is to merge them,” Ichigo muttered knowingly.
The screen beneath Hikifune’s hand suddenly brightened, and a few lines of feedback appeared as the machine finished analysing the pill’s remains.
Turning towards the glass, Hikifune tapped a few keys before digesting the results.
“How interesting,” she murmured, tilting her head. “It appears as if both gikongan tried to assimilate the other— failed— then disrupted the balance in their code to the point of structural collapse.”
Having already expected such an outcome, Ichigo sagged her shoulders dejectedly.
While she was adamant in her decision to find an alternative method to help Aizen, she quickly realised that she had no aptitude as a researcher.
The level of scientific engineering he and Urahara had done was simply out of her league.
“What about merging a soul that was once the same person?” She asked gingerly.
Hikifune‘s eyes seemed to gleam with interest. “What a fascinating concept— although I don’t have any personal expertise on the matter, it would depend on what split them in the first place.”
She smiled stiffly. “Time?”
Hikfune grew silent, and she pursed her lips with calculative gaze.
“Is this about your future self?” She finally said. “I remember when you first arrived, you had asked about what would happen if you were born again.”
Realising that she had been misunderstood, Ichigo settled for a reluctant nod.
In hindsight, how could anyone guess the fact that she had the soul of another person within her own— while their younger half continued to exist in the real world?
“I know it won’t be anytime soon,” she said half-heartedly. “I suppose there’s no reason for me to be worried.”
Hikfune reached out to gently pat her shoulder. “Do you remember what I told you back then?”
“That I’m in an alternate timeline?”
“That souls are unique,” Hikifune corrected, lifting her finger. “The gikongan I’ve created will never come close to the complexity of a real soul, regardless of how you experiment with them.”
Ichigo frowned slightly. “Is that supposed to be a good thing?”
“Of course,” Hikifune nodded. “A real soul has something that is much more intrinsic— a common denominator between humans, shinigami and even hollows—”
She tapped her chest and smiled.
“The heart.”
Ichigo quieted, not having expected such an emotional answer.
“I don’t mean it in a sentimental way,” Hikifune explained. “The heart is naturally fueled by things such as purpose, ambition, resentment and love, but it’s also a conduit of our powers and abilities.”
“What does that mean for me?” She asked.
“It means that you have hope!” Hikifune said brightly. “If by some miracle, you’re born again in the future, there’s still a chance for your souls to properly converge as long as your hearts are aligned.”
Ichigo crossed her arms, trying to take in the new information.
Perhaps it was their difference in age, but there were times when Aizen and Sōsuke seemed like entirely separate people, and Ichigo wondered just how far the two would diverge.
“How can I know for sure before I try?” She asked, wary of another failed merge.
“Nothing is certain in the pursuit of research,” Hikifune said with a wry grin. “However, a shinigami’s zanpakutō is one of the purest reflections of their soul—”
“Oh,” Ichigo breathed, eyes widening at the realisation.
For all of their differences, they still had one major thing in common.
Kyōka Suigetsu.
Her newfound confidence soon came crashing down however, as Ichigo remembered what happened during the Tenshintai incident, and she found herself ruminating over the same question.
Why was Aizen rejected?
“Well, this is all just conjecture,” Hikifune said at last, shrugging lightly. “I’m afraid it goes against my code of ethics to experiment on real souls— I’d be no different than a madman, otherwise.”
Ichigo half-choked, wondering if Hikifune had such thoughts regarding Aizen and Urahara during the second Quincy War, and she quickly waved her hands.
“I understand,” Ichigo said with a hurried nod. “I’m grateful for your insight as it is.”
“Of course, Ichigo-chan!” Hikifune said, reaching over to happily smack her shoulder. “Don’t be worried, alright? I’m sure it’ll all work out in the end.”
She gave a small smile in return, unable to refute her optimism. “Thank you.”
“Eat something before you go— you’re looking a little thin these days,” Hikifune said, before glancing over her shoulder to yell into the hallway. “Yūji! Bring some onigiri!”
Before Ichigo could refuse, there was a flicker of movement across the doorway.
“Wait— there’s really no need—”
“I insist,” Hikifune said with a stern look, crossing her arms. “Besides, this might be the last chance you get to eat Yūji’s cooking.”
Ichigo blinked in surprise. “He’s retiring?”
Maeda Yūji was the current Lieutenant of the Twelfth Division, and had served the Gotei for nearly three centuries— the news of his retirement was bound to cause a stir.
Hikfune sighed dramatically. “He’s leaving me at the end of the year, Ichigo-chan! How could he?!”
The man in question suddenly reappeared in a flicker of shunpo, and held out a neatly wrapped box for Ichigo to take.
“Please don’t mind her, Kurosaki-taichō,” he said calmly. “I’ve been warning her for well over a decade that I was planning to retire.”
“He’s throwing me to the wolves!” Hikifune cried, pointing an accusatory finger at the older man. “I already have ten noble families badgering me about the position— trying to get their slimy, greedy hands on my squad—”
“Speaking of my position,” Yūji interrupted smoothly, his gaze falling on her. “If you have any recommendations from the Fifth, I’d be happy to review their application before I depart.”
Ichigo regarded the man with surprise. “You would consider a transfer?”
Yūji nodded. “As long as they’re capable.”
“Hmph,” Hikifune huffed, shooting Yūji a dark look from the corner of her eyes. “You can’t steal someone from Ichigo-chan just so you can leave!”
Ichigo hummed, mulling over the idea. “Actually, I do have someone in mind— I’ll have to see what he thinks.”
Hikifune’s face perked with anticipation as Yūji lowered his head in a polite bow. “There’s still time before the end of the year, but please send me their file if they’re interested.”
“I will,” she said, feeling a wistful smile tug at her lips as she glanced down at the box of rice balls. “Thank you for the food.”
Hikifune sniffled and wiped her watery eyes.
“Make sure they can cook, Ichigo-chan.”
“Absolutely not.”
Shinji crossed his arms, looking affronted by the mere suggestion.
“What— why not?” Ichigo asked, frowning. “Hikifune is an amazing captain— not to mention a brilliant researcher.”
She was also certain that in the past timeline, Shinji had transferred out of Kyōraku’s squad into the Twelfth, and had served with Hikifune until he took over the Fifth.
“Kurosaki-taichō, why are you trying to get rid of me?” He asked, a hint of sadness in his voice.
“No, I’m trying to promote you!” She insisted, fighting the urge to shake him by the shoulders. “Are you planning on being a third seat for the rest of your life?”
“Yes.”
Ichigo faltered, caught off guard by his lack of hesitation. “Are you serious?”
Shinji glanced away, as if refusing to meet her gaze and remained stubbornly silent.
Sighing, Ichigo sorted through a few documents on her desk, trying to declutter the space. “If Sōsuke stepped down, would you be willing to be my Lieutenant?”
“Of course!” He said instantly, turning to her.
Ichigo scowled. “So you do want the promotion!”
“Well—” he stammered, quickly backtracking. “I only meant— since it’s the Fifth—”
She sent him a stern look. “You’re a talented shinigami in your own right— why don’t you acknowledge that?”
“I just don’t feel like I’m ready,” he said, downcast.
Ichigo crossed her arms, unrelenting. “What will it take for you to feel ready?”
He seemed to hesitate for a beat before murmuring under his breath. “It’s nothing.”
“Shinji.”
He raised his head slowly, his gaze filled with unspoken grievances.
To a certain degree, Ichigo already knew what was on his mind.
He had been disheartened by the outcome of his duel against Sōsuke, and even more devastated to learn what that loss meant for the then empty Lieutenant position. If she hadn’t made them swear to never fight again, she was certain that Shinji would be demanding a rematch at every opportunity.
“I can’t help but feel like you’ll never be happy here,” she said, shifting to a gentler tone.
Shinji jolted, eyes widening. “I-I am happy! I’m very happy to be a part of the Fifth! I don’t need the promotion, really— I was only joking—”
“You know what I mean,” she interjected kindly. “I thought you would suit the position, not only because I know you’re capable, but because you truly deserve it.”
“Taichō…”
“I don’t want you comparing yourself to Sōsuke for the rest of your life,” she said. “The Shinji I know is incredibly talented, perceptive, hard-working, and considerate— any squad would be lucky to have you.”
He lowered his face, clearly conflicted. “I just… don’t want to leave the Fifth.”
Ichigo smiled, feeling her gaze soften. “Why don’t you think about it for a few months?”
Shinji hesitated for a long moment before he finally relented with a stiff nod. “Alright.”
Just as their conversation ended, a quiet knock drew her attention, and Ichigo glanced up. “Come in.”
The door slowly slid open to reveal a young man nervously standing in the hall, his eyes darting all around the office before landing on her.
“G-Good evening, Kurosaki-taichō!” he greeted, quickly throwing himself into a deep bow.
Ichigo put her papers down, vaguely recognising the man. “Oh, you’re… Moriyoshi?”
The man gaped, clearly shocked by the fact that she knew him. “Y-Yes, I am! I’m honored that you know my name, taichō!”
Ichigo chuckled. “Didn’t we meet last month at the welcoming ceremony? It would be quite embarrassing if I forgot it already.”
Moriyoshi’s eyes widened, and his expression gleamed with reverence, but before he could respond, Shinji spoke first.
“What are you doing here?” He asked, crossing his arms. “Unseated officers have no business reporting directly to Kurosaki-taichō— who is your barrack leader?”
Moriyoshi hurriedly rummaged through his shihakushō and pulled out a crumpled letter. “S-Someone asked me to deliver this to you! I know it’s against the rules, but the situation seemed unusual so I—”
Shinji reached out to snatch the letter, his eyes narrowed. “Who gave you this? It’s obviously not marked with any official postage or label— why did you even accept it?”
“Another shinigami gave it to me while I was finishing my patrol in the Living World!” Moriyoshi insisted. “I-I didn’t catch his name, but he said he was from the Eleventh Division.”
“That might as well be a lie!” Shinji hissed. “Why would a member of the Eleventh Division need to report something to the Fifth?”
“I-I don’t know—”
“Wait,” Ichigo interrupted, turning to stare at Moriyoshi. “What district of the Living World were you in?”
“I was in Sector 140,” he answered warily, rubbing his hands together in a nervous gesture. “The shinigami came from the neighboring district— Sector 139, I think— he seemed very adamant about sending you a message.”
“That’s the most suspicious thing I’ve ever heard!” Shinji said, throwing Moriyoshi a scathing look.
Ichigo, however, felt her heart soar with a sense of hope. “The shinigami who gave this to you— what did he look like?”
Moriyoshi scrunched his face, as if trying to recall the encounter. “He was a tall man with dark red hair. I don’t remember his face well, but he did seem rather haggard and pale.”
Red hair? Ichigo thought with wide eyes. Could it be…?
“Give it here,” she instructed, stretching out her hand towards Shinji.
The blonde seemed to hesitate, but after shooting the letter one final look of suspicion, he gingerly passed it over.
Ichigo opened the parcel carefully, finding a scrawl of messy handwriting inside.
I owe you, Kurosaki.
Anything you need, whenever you need it.
You know where to find me.
The letter was short, with no signature or indication of its sender, but Ichigo instantly knew—
Kuruyashiki had done it.
A short laugh of disbelief escaped her throat, and she quickly tucked the letter into her robes before getting to her feet.
“I need to step away for a moment.”
Shinji stared at her with a bewildered look. “Taichō—?”
“Think about what we discussed earlier,” she said, reaching out to pat his shoulder before turning to Moriyoshi. “As for you— good work on your first patrol— go get some rest.”
“Y-Yes, Kurosaki-taichō!”
With that, she quickly flickered out of the office and leapt onto the rooftops, speeding towards the Eighth Division with an excited grin.
Kyōraku was going to have a field day.
“This is most definitely Kuruyashiki’s horrible handwriting.”
Ichigo huffed in amusement, feeling her smile widen.
“What a relief,” she said, relaxing in her seat. “I was afraid they would never be found.”
Much to Ulquiorra and Starrk’s annoyance, every visit to Hueco Mundo over the last twenty years had been used to search for Kuruyashiki— or any sign of his surviving squad members.
If it weren’t for the occasional rumours of two shinigami being spotted around the barren desert, Ichigo would have feared they were gone forever.
“How did they return on their own?” Kyōraku asked. “It wasn’t you, was it?”
Ichigo shook her head. “They must have been found by Ulquiorra and Starrk.”
Kyōraku chucked, and took a sip of his tea. “A shame I wasn’t there to see the expression on his face— he must be dying to ask you questions at this point.”
She mirrored his laugh. “We should make plans to visit.”
“Let's not be hasty, now,” he chided gently. “Even if we travel through the garganta, multiple captain level shinigami in the Living World are bound to catch the attention of the Kidō Corps.”
As much as she disliked the constant surveillance, Ichigo knew he was right. Ever since they lost Kuruyashiki, the Kidō Corps remained on high alert, and never left the Senkaimon unguarded again.
“Do you think the warrant for his arrest is still in effect?” She asked with a hint of concern. “Perhaps I should have sent him into Rukongai instead.”
“It most certainly is,” Kyōraku said seriously. “Yama-jii doesn’t joke around with deserters— the Living World is the safest place for him.”
“That’s a shame,” she muttered. “Will Kuruyashiki know to keep a low profile?”
“…He should,” Kyōraku said after a beat, then sighed. “I’ll see about sending him a letter through one of my trusted subordinates.”
A comfortable silence filled the air as Ichigo reached for her tea, and her gaze fell on the empty chair between them.
“How is Ukitake-tacihō doing?”
At this, Kyōraku’s expression darkened. “I’m afraid his condition is only getting worse.”
Ichigo grimaced, and the silence grew palpable.
She couldn’t pinpoint when exactly it had started, but it seemed as if Ukitake’s sickness relapsed more and more every year, until he grew completely bedridden, unable to leave Unohana’s care.
That had been three weeks ago.
Currently, the workload within the Thirteenth Division was split between her and Kyōraku, while Satoshi and Naoya took care of the smaller matters. Their combined efforts managed to keep the squad afloat, but Ichigo knew it wouldn’t last forever.
Already, the Central 46 was looking to replace Ukitake as captain, citing his poor health and inability to lead.
Had Yamamoto not stepped up against the judiciary, temporarily blocking any interference from the nobles, Ichigo feared that the Thirteenth would have been lost.
“Is his illness truly incurable?” She asked quietly.
Logically, Ichigo knew there was no reason to worry, considering Ukitake had lived to face the second Quincy War, but she couldn’t fully dispel the thought that something was amiss.
“I’m afraid that not even a god can cure his ailment,” Kyōraku muttered, staring into his tea with a bitter gaze.
“A god?” She repeated with a slight frown. “Are you referring to Mimihagi?”
Kyōraku whipped his face towards her, eyes wide with disbelief.
“He told you about that?”
Ichigo gaped and slapped a hand over her mouth, realising that she had made a critical error. “N-No, I— I just happened to— I mean—”
How could she possibly explain the ordeal of being forced to cut the Soul King in half, which compelled Ukitake to sacrifice himself?
Kyōraku's face instantly paled, and Ichigo knew that he had made the connection regardless.
“I’ll be damned,” he whispered, his expression twisted with a myriad of emotions. “Just how dire was the state of the world that he—”
Kyōraku choked slightly and forcibly stopped himself, pressing his lips into a hard line.
Ichigo clenched her hands, feeling a rush of grief overtake her.
“I’m sorry…”
Kyōraku exhaled softly, as if trying to gather his composure. “There’s no need for you to apologise.”
She shook her head, feeling her throat tighten at the memory. “I-I’m sure I could have prevented it— if I just hadn’t—”
“Ichigo, stop.”
His hand came to rest on her shoulder, and she faltered, lifting her head to see Kyōraku give her a stern look.
“The future that you experienced hasn’t yet come to pass,” he reminded gently. “Besides, I’m sure that Jūshirō believed it was worth the sacrifice.”
Ichigo tore her gaze away, unable to meet his eyes.
Before arriving in the past, her relationship with Ukitake had been cordially distant, and his passing was a tragic, yet fleeting moment in the chaos of the war.
Knowing that she had the opportunity to change his fate, Ichigo swore to protect him this time around, but found her strength utterly meaningless in the face of his illness.
”Isn’t there anything we can do?” She asked dejectedly.
Kyōraku sighed. “Considering the circumstances— I suspect the root cause of his deteriorating health is beyond the scope of our reach.”
Ichigo frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Contracts with gods are fickle in nature, and I began to suspect that Mimihagi was no longer interested in inhabiting his body,” he explained, “but Jūshirō disagreed.”
Kyōraku folded his hands together, and his expression grew serious.
“He said Mimihagi was fading.”
Ichigo paused, mind whirling at the implication. “How is that possible? As the right arm of the Soul King— how could its power just… disappear?”
“Something must have happened in the Royal Realm,” Kyōraku muttered. “That’s all I can infer.”
“Then what about the Zero Division?” She asked, furrowing her brows.
If something truly happened to the Soul King, there was no way Ichibē would remain passive.
“Nothing,” he said grimly. “They’ve been utterly silent on the matter, and neither Yama-jii nor the Central 46 have the authority to summon the Royal Guard for questioning.”
A heavy silence fell over the room, and Ichigo clenched her jaw, aggrieved by their hopeless situation.
Even if she managed to break into the Royal Realm, what could she do?
The Soul King was nothing but a puppet— an empty shell that was disconnected from the rest of his scattered limbs.
“Ichigo.”
Kyōraku leaned back into his seat, voice calm but weary.
“I know Jūshirō never liked asking about the future, but I’m curious to know…” he said slowly. “Was he well?”
Seeing the wistful look on his face, which yearned for a semblance of hope, Ichigo nodded.
“As well as he could have been,” she said softly. “He was one of the first Gotei Captains to help me when I came to Soul Society.”
“Oh?” He raised a brow, clearly interested.
Ichigo’s grin turned mischievous. “At the time, I was trying to break one of my friends out of prison.”
Kyōraku snorted, and a look of delight flickered across his face. “Truly?”
“She was being wrongly accused,” Ichigo said with a light shrug, then raised her eyebrows at him. “You helped too.”
Kyōraku shook his head in disbelief, but a small smile lingered on his lips. “Whatever happened— I’m sure it’s Jūshirō’s fault for influencing me.”
Ichigo laughed, knowing the truth of it all.
“I figured you’d say that.”
Drinking the last of his tea, Kyōraku turned to stare out at the open veranda. “Then I suppose we wait, and pray that this becomes a fleeting moment we look back on in the future.”
Ichigo followed his line of sight and gazed at the overgrown garden, feeling a sense of melancholy fill her heart.
“It’s the only thing we can do.”
Much to Ichigo’s disappointment, she found herself drowning in paperwork the following week.
Although the job was being split between two Captains, it was clear that overseeing the Thirteenth Division as well as the Fifth was gradually overloading her work capacity.
To make matters worse, she had woken up sick, sporting a mild fever that seemed to grow worse with every passing hour.
“Kurosaki-taichō, why don’t I help you approve these reports?”
Ichigo glanced up to see Sumi holding up a stack of papers with a worried frown.
“Those are for the Thirteenth,” she muttered, gesturing to the towering pile beside her. “Leave it here.”
“I can help!” Sumi said insistently, lips pressing into a pout. “I know you’ve been feeling unwell these days.”
Ichigo shook her head. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, but it would be irresponsible of me as a Captain to delegate work that my subordinates didn’t agree to do.”
“I’m agreeing now!” She said adamantly.
“As it was my decision to take on the extra work— I alone will bear the burden,” Ichigo said firmly, lifting her hand. “What about your other duties?”
Sumi slumped her shoulders. “It’s all done. I’m just waiting for Sōsuke to return from his mission so that he can sign off this month’s report.”
Ichigo swiveled around in her chair, taking note of the calendar pinned behind her head. “Is he coming back today?”
Sumi nodded. “He should be. He’s never been late before.”
Ichigo inwardly agreed.
She had managed the Fifth Division without a Lieutenant for so long, the moment Sōsuke took over the position, Ichigo was at a loss, suddenly finding herself with so little work.
It was frightening how useful he made himself, even in areas Ichigo hadn’t explicitly requested, and she was consistently noticing the weight of his absence when he left on longer missions.
“It’s not bad to have some free time,” Ichigo said absentmindedly, quickly skimming through another report. “Have you decided on what to do for your coming-of-age ceremony?”
While Ichigo hadn’t thought much of her own, considering it had been combined with her legitimization into the Shiba Clan, she knew the ceremony was an important milestone for young noble girls.
With the near total extermination of the Azashiro Clan, she and Enji had offered to arrange the ceremony for her, only for Sumi to backtrack on her needs, claiming that she wouldn’t dare to use the Shiba Clan for such trivial things.
Sumi lowered her face, her cheeks reddening. “I…”
“The offer still stands,” Ichigo said with an encouraging grin. “I’m pretty sure Shiba-taichō would love to have another excuse to show off his latest fireworks.”
Sumi wrung her hands together, and fidgeted from side to side as she shyly glanced at Ichigo from underneath her lashes. “I-If it’s not too much trouble—”
“Of course it’s not,” she rebuked gently. “We’ll have it all taken care of— you just need to arrive when you’re called.”
Sumi bit her lip, her eyes glimmering with unshed tears, and nodded.
Before she could muster up a response, rushed footsteps echoed from outside Ichigo’s office, and within half a second, Sōya came barreling through the door, nearly slipping on the wooden floor as he came to a stop.
“Kurosaki-taichō! There’s— just now— a new—” he heaved, trying to catch his breath as he raised his arm, pointing to something in the distance.
“Breathe,” she ordered.
Sōya panted heavily, wiping the sweat off his face as Sumi came up behind him to lightly smack him on the shoulder.
“Pull yourself together!” She chastised. “Why are you appearing in front of Kurosaki-taichō in such an undignified manner?”
Sōya turned to his sister and huffed. “I just ran halfway across Seireitei! You know my shunpo isn’t good—”
“What happened?” Ichigo quickly interrupted, hoping to avoid a potential argument.
“T-There’s a new Kenpachi challenger!” He said hurriedly, eyes wide with clear excitement. “I saw the members of the Eleventh Division gathering at the south gate just as I was passing through!”
Ichigo paused, and lowered the report in her hands. “Who is it?”
After Kuruyashiki had left for Hueco Mundo, the title of Kenpachi was passed to three more Shinigami, with each new Captain bringing in more problems than the last.
Matsuda Jurō had managed to survive for three years before being killed in combat, and all the attempted reformation within the division fell along with him.
After killing Matsuda, Kenpachi Yamazaki controlled the squad for eight years, eventually corrupting its members into a private army for nobles to hire. Once the Central 46 discovered their schemes, half of the division was sentenced to life imprisonment within the Onmitsukidō’s Detention Unit, and the Ninth Kenpachi was executed by the Sōkyoku.
Without a suitable replacement from within the squad, the Central 46 voted to instate Kenpachi Ogawa, a minor noble who had been endorsed by the Tsunayashiro Family.
Ichigo suspected Ogawa was nothing more than a hired mercenary, but his true motives still remained a mystery.
“They’re saying it’s a commoner from Rukongai!” Sōya answered. “Apparently no one knows who he really is— there’s no records of him at the Academy either!”
Sumi crossed her arms with a frown. “That’s ridiculous. Does he even have a zankpakutō?”
Sōya shrugged. “Who knows? If he’s willing to put his life on the line for the title— he has to be strong.”
“When is the match?” Ichigo asked.
“Right now!” Sōya said impatiently, tugging at his sister’s sleeve. “Let’s go watch!”
Sumi sank back into her chair and shook her head. “Go by yourself. I don’t want to watch two people fight to the death.”
Having expected such a response, Ichigo pushed aside all the reports on her desk and rose to her feet. “I’ll go with you, Sōya.”
The boy’s eyes widened. “Y-You will?”
Grabbing Zangetsu off the back wall, Ichigo turned to Sumi with a gentle smile. “Don’t wait up for Sōsuke and get some rest— we’ll be back soon.”
Sumi nodded reluctantly, and Ichigo left the office, gesturing for Sōya to follow along.
Jumping onto the rooftops, Ichigo headed south, trying to restrain her pace as Sōya came chasing after her, already out of breath.
“Kurosaki-taichō, wait for me!”
In the distance, a column of yellow spiritual energy erupted into the sky, and Ichigo paused, recognising the reiatsu signature near instantly.
“This reiatsu!” Sōya cried in shock, arriving beside her. “It’s not Kenpachi Ogawa—”
“No, it’s not,” she said with a knowing smile. “Come on.”
Grabbing a hold of his arm, Ichigo sped towards the southern gate, and Sōya screamed in surprise, hands fumbling to hold onto her shihakushō as his face instantly turned green at the disorientating pace.
“T-Taicho, I’m gonna puke—!”
“Hold it in,” she ordered.
Within a few minutes, Ichigo came to an abrupt stop on a tall building, and Sōya threw himself onto the roof, groaning with unspoken complaints.
In the clearing below them, about a hundred shinigami of the Eleventh Division gathered around in a circle as two men clashed in a bloody battle.
Ultimately, there was no need for Ichigo to have rushed.
The fight was already over.
“N-No way,” Sōya whispered, peeking over the roof’s edge.
Ogawa fell to his knees and clutched his bleeding chest, panting with exertion as he struggled to lift his head.
Towering over him was Zaraki Kenpachi, looking as if he was having the time of his life.
“This was fun!” He said with a laugh. “It’s a shame you couldn’t last longer.”
Ogawa hissed, eyes alight with indignation. “Just kill me.”
Kenpachi scoffed, and his expression of joy morphed into displeasure. “I normally don’t kill people who can’t fight anymore, but for you—“ He raised his sword, reiatsu brimming with killing intent.
“I’ll have to make an exception.”
Kenpachi swung at Ogawa, slashing across his throat in a fatal blow, and the aftershocks of reiatsu blasted across the clearing.
There was a beat of silence as Ogawa’s body fell lifelessly onto the ground, then the crowd erupted with noise, shouting and cheering at Kenpachi’s victory.
“I can’t believe it,” Sōya said breathlessly. “This no-name guy just became the Eleventh Kenpachi.”
Ichigo smiled, sharing in the crowd’s exhilaration. “He certainly has a name now.”
Before Sōya could answer, Kenpachi suddenly glanced over his shoulder as if sensing her gaze, turning to stare straight at them.
His eyes widened as recognition flickered across his face, then his lips twisted into a crazed grin.
“It’s you,” he called loudly, attracting the attention of everyone in the crowd. “Kurosaki Ichigo!”
Sōya turned to look at her, clearly flabbergasted by their connection, and Ichigo inwardly sighed, finding no way out of the situation.
“Long time no see,” she greeted, unable to hold back her own grin. “Zaraki Kenpachi.”
A small head of pink hair broke through the crowd, running towards Kenpachi while waving enthusiastically at her. “Ichi-chan!”
Her expression softened. “It's good to see you too, Yachiru.”
Kenpachi rested his sword over his shoulder and turned to fully face her, his eyes lingering on her white haori. “I see you’ve moved up the ranks.”
“So have you,” Ichigo shot back, raising her eyebrows. “Congratulations on joining the Gotei 13.”
Kenpachi snorted in disbelief, and glanced down at Ogawa’s corpse. “You’re telling me this half-baked assassin posing as a swordsman was the strongest shinigami in the Gotei?”
She tilted her head, unsurprised that Kenpachi had seen right through Ogawa’s facade. “Why? Are you dissatisfied with your victory?”
“I came here to claim the title of the strongest,” he declared, pointing his blade up at her.
“Get down here.”
Sōya shrank back and glanced between her and Kenpachi, eyes wide with apprehension. “T-Taichō—”
“Stay here,” she said calmly, reaching out to pat his shoulder.
Ichigo flickered off the rooftop and reappeared in the clearing, landing a few paces away from where he and Yachiru stood.
“You know it’s against the law for a Kenpachi to challenge a sitting Captain,” she said lightheartedly.
“Ha!” Kenpachi laughed wildly. “You and your shinigami laws! I don’t think I need to say it again— I’m only here to have a good time fighting!”
His reiatsu erupted around him, and the crowd of Eleventh Division members who had gotten too close were instantly thrown back by the blast, while a few of the weaker ones froze under the pressure.
Kenpachi raised his sword, eyes gleaming with resolve. “This time— I will cut you.”
Against her better judgement, Ichigo felt a smirk creep along her lips. “Are you prepared to embarrass yourself in front of your new subordinates?”
Kenpachi grinned. “Here I come!”
He charged at her with reckless abandon, his reiatsu condensing around his sword in a deadly attack, and Ichigo sensed that he had gotten much stronger since their last encounter.
But so had she.
Just as his blade came swinging down, a flicker of movement caught her eye, and a small figure suddenly appeared between her and Kenpachi, blocking the latter’s sword with their own.
The aftershocks of their collision rippled into the ground and the surrounding gate, causing a cloud of dust to explode over the clearing.
Ichigo blinked in surprise, instantly recognising the person who had interfered. “Sōsuke?”
”What the—” Kenpachi faltered, staring at the younger boy. “Who the hell are you, kid?”
Instead of answering, Sōsuke raised his palm towards Kenpachi’s chest, while effortlessly holding off his zanpakutō with a single hand.
“Hadō 63—
Ichigo’s eyes widened.
“Raikōhō.”
Without even a second to spare, Ichigo redirected his arm as a blast of lightning erupted from Sōsuke’s palm, searing Kenpachi through the shoulder as he staggered back from the blow, and the crowd erupted with panicked cries as wayward streaks of lightning began attacking the surrounding area.
“Sōsuke, stop!” She shouted, recognising the serious look on his face.
“Why?” He demanded, voice cold and unwavering. “This man is clearly insane— daring to attack a Gotei Captain in broad daylight.”
Ichigo faltered, knowing that the situation must have looked alarming from his perspective.
“He’s an old friend of mine!” she said reassuringly. ”We were just messing around!”
Sōsuke gave her a flat look, clearly not believing her. “He pointed his blade at you— I felt his killing intent.”
Kenpachi suddenly began laughing, his eyes wide with glee as he turned to Sosuke with a deranged grin, clearly unbothered by his wounded shoulder.
“What’s this?” he said with interest. “You’re stronger than you look, kid— are you going to fight me in Kurosaki’s place?”
“No,” Sōsuke replied, his voice eerily calm “I’m going to kill you.”
“Absolutely not,” Ichigo cut in, then lowered her voice. “If you kill him, you’ll have to take over the Eleventh Division. Are you prepared for that?”
Sōsuke paused, then glanced over at Ogawa’s corpse, as if finally realising what had happened.
“…then I’ll only cut off his limbs.”
Sighing in exasperation, Ichigo reached out to grab his arm. “Alright, that’s enough—”
Pulling Sōsuke behind her, she retreated onto the roof in a flicker of shunpo, as Sōya came scampering onto his feet.
“I’ll have to cut our reunion short and apologise on behalf of my Lieutenant!” She yelled down at Kenpachi.
Sōsuke grumbled. “Why apologise—”
Clasping her hand over his mouth, Ichigo continued, “I’ll see you around!”
Readjusting his bloody shoulder, Kenpachi stared up at her with narrowed eyes. “Wait a damn minute, Kurosaki—”
With that, Ichigo grabbed Sōya with her free hand, and disappeared into the air.
Bolting across the rooftops of Seireitei, Ichigo landed near the outskirts of the Fifth Division, having barely touched down before Sōya ripped himself out of her grasp and hugged the ground with tears.
“P-Please, no more shunpo— I feel sick—” he cried into the dirt.
Releasing Sōsuke onto the grass, Ichigo held her head with a soft groan, feeling her fever throb painfully against her temples.
“You and me both,” she muttered.
Sōsuke reached up, brushing the back of his hand against her forehead with a frown. “Sumi was right— you don’t look well.”
Before she could reassure his concerns, a sharp pain suddenly lacerated up her chest, and Ichigo coughed violently into her hand, nearly doubling over in agony.
“Kurosaki-taichō!”
Clenching her eyes shut, she turned away from the two boys as a rush of heat pressed against the edges of her skull, and for a harrowing moment, she feared that her head would explode from the pressure.
Just as quickly as it came, the pain receded like a mirage, and Ichigo took deep breaths, trying to regain her composure as she slowly lowered her hand.
A pool of black liquid stained the contours of her palm, and Ichigo stared in shock, wondering if she had ingested a bottle of ink in her feverish delirium. The pool was so dark, she couldn’t see a reflection of light on its surface, and something clicked in the back of her mind.
It wasn’t ink.
It was a shadow.
A chill rolled down her spine as she observed the darkness sink into her skin, disappearing without a trace.
“K-Kurosaki-taichō, a-are you alright?”
Shaken, she turned around, finding Sōsuke and Sōya watching her with faces of worry and fear.
“I’m fine,” she lied, curling her lips into a weak smile. “I think I just overworked myself recently.”
Sōsuke frowned, clearly doubting her flimsy excuse. “Taichō—”
“Let’s hurry back,” she said quickly, finding her throat painfully hoarse. “It’s getting dark.”
Steadying herself, Ichigo walked towards the barracks, trying to ignore the pair of piercing eyes that followed her. Her vision began to blur as her legs grew heavy, and every instinct in her body flared with a sense of foreboding.
A prickle of unease settled in the depths of her soul, and Ichigo knew without a doubt— something was very, very wrong.
Notes:
Y'all better be ready, because I'm about to take all of the current Bleach lore and just run. Hopefully I didn't give too much away here, but I have a lot of ideas brewing in my head for next chapter— can't wait to read all of your theories in the meantime!
A very big welcome back to our favourite Kenpachi and Yachiru! 🥳 I'm sure Kuruyashiki and Ashido will be very happy to see the Eleventh Division finally get revived by a proper leader. As for Shinji, I think taking on some new responsibility will be good for him, but getting him to leave the Fifth? It might just be an impossible ask 😂
Chapter 19
Notes:
*sweating* Is it too late to say happy new year? 😅 I really didn't intend for this chapter to take long, but all the researching and theory-crafting took a lot more time than I anticipated. If you're still here, thank you as always 💙
I'm trying something new with this chapter— there's going to be one major scene split into multiple different POVs, so hopefully it all comes together and makes sense!
I have tons to say at the end note so I'll cut this one short 😉 See you at the bottom!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The midday sun sat high in the clear sky, and a stifling heat filled his lungs as Sōsuke observed the stretch of barren land around him.
Standing over an enormous crater, he noticed that some of the mountain tops had been blown away, as if cut in half by an unstoppable force.
A deep sense of apprehension filled his body as he saw who was standing in front of him.
He was in that dream, again.
On the other side of the crater stood Captain Kurosaki, cloaked in a column of black reiatsu so dense, it appeared as if flames were coming off her body. Long black hair billowed in the sharp wind, and her warm brown eyes now gleamed a menacing red.
Something heavy lingered in the air, and Sōsuke hitched his breath, feeling as if all the gravity in the world was constricting around him.
He wanted to run, but his body refused to move.
Her eyes turned to stare at him coldly, and Sōsuke felt a spark of unease ignite in his stomach.
Captain Kurosaki had never looked at him with such eyes.
“Aizen.”
He flinched, unable to remember the last time she had referred to him so formally , and Sōsuke tensed in confusion.
Half of her face was covered underneath a carapace of grey bandages, but there was no doubt that she was looking right at him.
“If I use this technique, then I will lose all of my shinigami power.”
Her red eyes narrowed, solemn and resolute, and Sōsuke finally understood the hostility in her gaze.
She was looking at an enemy.
“That is the meaning of final.”
A sense of panic began to rise in his throat, and he tried to say something in response, but his mouth refused to move.
Kurosaki-taichō, it’s me!
She stretched out her right hand, and the black reiatsu that swirled around her began to condense into a long blade, and for a split second, they locked eyes from across the battlefield.
Within the reflection of her eyes, where he had expected to see himself— was a monster.
“Mugetsu.”
Sōsuke woke up with a start, barely choking back a scream from escaping his throat as he clutched his chest.
Pain shot up the center of his body as if he were being split in half, and he twisted onto his side, feeling as if the entire world was shaking in his momentary delirium.
Within seconds, the pain faded as if it had been nothing more than a delusion, and he gasped for air, trying to regain his grip on reality.
Finding himself drenched in sweat, he pushed himself onto his hands and knees, only to freeze in place.
The world was still shaking.
It was then he could hear the commotion of voices outside, and after a moment of bewilderment, Sōsuke quickly threw on a spare cloak, grabbed his zanpakutō, and stumbled out of his quarters.
“Aizen-fukutaichō!”
A group of officers ran in his direction, clearly panicked and confused.
Sōsuke glanced around the barracks, still feeling out of breath. “Where’s Kurosaki-taichō?”
“W-We haven’t seen her,” one of the men responded. “She might have already left for the First Division.”
Sōsuke frowned, knowing it was unlikely for Captain Kurosaki to leave without a word.
“W-What should we do?!” Another officer asked, clearly on the edge of hysterics. “The shaking isn’t stopping!”
“Calm yourself,” he ordered sternly. “We don’t know what we’re dealing with yet— it might just be a temporary disruption.”
While he had never experienced it himself, Sōsuke knew that when the number of souls between the three worlds fell out of proportion, the balance would start to crumble.
“Has there been any damage to the barracks?” He asked.
“Nothing major, but some of the older buildings are of concern,” the man answered, shaking his head.
“Go around the division and tell everyone to remain outside,” he instructed. “Report to Shinji if you see him.”
Without waiting for their response, Sōsuke turned on his heel and flickered away, feeling a strange sense of anxiety with Captain Kurosaki’s absence. He couldn’t imagine her sleeping through such a dire occasion, but she was clearly unwell last night, and had retired for bed soon after returning to the Fifth.
He appeared in front of their shared office, finding the hallway empty, then hurried towards the back side of the building to check her personal quarters.
“Kurosaki-taichō?” He called, taking a hesitant step inside.
Pushing aside the outer door, he entered a modest living room, only to stop dead in his tracks as he felt something stir in the air.
It didn’t feel like Captain Kurosaki’s reiatsu.
Moving on impulse, he threw open her bedroom door and was promptly blasted by a wave of turbulent spiritual energy.
In the midst of the ruined bedroom, Captain Kurosaki was lying on her futon, seemingly deaf to the chaos happening around her. Her body was emitting a torrent of black reiatsu which vibrated with such power and force, the very fabric of reality seemed to warp under the pressure.
It felt as if he were standing near the eye of a hurricane, and Sōsuke instantly knew—
This was the epicenter of the shaking.
The darkness began to converge above her, forming a giant hand, and he quickly realised that the black reiatsu was not her own.
He slashed through the shadow without hesitation, only for his blade to pass harmlessly through the entity, as if he was cutting air, and Sōsuke stumbled with wide eyes, caught off balance by the lack of resistance.
Whatever this thing was— he couldn’t touch it.
Grimacing at the realisation, he knelt beside Captain Kurosaki to grab her shoulder, and was immediately burned by the sheer density of reishi around her, forcing him to retract his arm with a painful hiss.
Had he been any weaker, he was certain that his entire hand would have disintegrated.
Panting slightly, he turned to look at her face, noting the cluster of cracks that ran across her cheeks. Tiny fragments of her skin began to chip away, and Sōsuke realized with horror that her body was starting to crumble from the inside out.
Her soul was on the brink of collapse.
Gritting his teeth, he reached out to grab her shoulders and shook them frantically, ignoring the pain in his hands.
“Kurosaki-taichō!”
Her head bobbed back and forth, unresponsive, and for the first time in his life, Sōsuke felt his heart swell with fear.
Was he going to lose her?
The very thought sent him spiraling into a fevered nightmare, and Sōsuke held onto her with trembling hands, completely overtaken by a crippling sense of helplessness.
Without warning, all the spiritual energy in the room started twisting into a tornado of black reishi, then surged straight into Captain Kurosaki’s body. A pool of darkness seeped across her skin like ink, and her reiatsu began to fade, weakening under the onslaught.
In near panic, Sōsuke pressed his hands over her chest and flared his own spiritual energy, forcibly injecting his reiatsu into her body.
It was normally impractical for Shinigami to share reiryoku with one another— dangerous, even— yet he found himself with no other choice.
The room flooded with purple light, and the darkness that spread across her skin suddenly came to a halt as Sōsuke released every last drop of his spiritual energy.
“Kurosaki-taichō!” He yelled desperately. “Wake up!”
Even with his reserves, it felt as if he was pouring a bowl of water into the void of space— he would inevitably exhaust himself within a matter of minutes.
A bead of sweat rolled down his temple as he strained to hold the darkness at bay, and just as he began to falter, there was a tremor of heat, as if the sun was descending towards the earth, then his vision exploded with golden light.
For a moment, there was only silence.
Sōsuke slowly opened his eyes, finding himself lying in a rubble of furniture, having been thrown across the room by the blast. By some miracle, the rest of the building remained standing, but everything inside had been damaged beyond repair.
There was an unnatural stillness in the air, and he struggled to push himself out of the broken floorboards, only to notice the change.
The shaking had finally stopped.
Sōsuke dragged himself to Captain Kurosaki’s side, unsure of how much time had passed. The darkness that clung to her body had completely disappeared without a trace, but she remained still, as if lost in an endless dream.
“Taichō?”
A flash of red caught his attention, and he gently turned her head, discovering that the skin around her right eye was bloodied and bruised. His breath hitched with a mixture of anger and confusion, unable to comprehend what happened, but there was no doubt that her right eye was gone.
Her eyelashes suddenly fluttered as a small crease formed between her brows, and before he could react, Captain Kurosaki’s left eye snapped open.
Sōsuke flinched in surprise, unable to comprehend what he was seeing.
In her eye, two irises spun with a myriad of colors, completely unlike her usual brown, or even the red of his nightmare.
She blinked slowly, and just as quickly as it appeared, the twin irises merged, revealing a single brown eye, innocuous and familiar.
A small groan escaped her lips and she squeezed her eyes shut, as if trying to readjust her hazy vision.
“…Aizen?”
Sōsuke froze, suddenly taken back to that terrible dream, and his stomach began to twist with the impossible notion.
Captain Kurosaki was clearly looking directly at him, and had even spoken his name, yet there was no doubt within the depths of his soul, that the person she was calling out to—
Was not him.
When Ichigo returned to her room, she collapsed face first into the futon, feeling exhausted beyond belief.
She slowly opened her eyes, half hoping to see Aizen and Zangetsu lounging on the skyscrapers, but found herself standing in the streets of Karakura Town, and she instantly knew— this wasn’t her Inner World.
Ichigo spun around in a daze, finding the city desolate and barren. Behind her, the doors to the Kurosaki Clinic opened on its own, as if welcoming her inside.
Her hand instinctively moved over her shoulder, reaching for Zangetsu, but was met with empty air, and she froze.
She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so vulnerable.
Bracing her nerves, Ichigo took a measured step into the clinic and rounded the corner of the hallway, coming face to face with the man sitting on the floor of the living room.
He raised his head, meeting her gaze. “Welcome back.”
She stopped dead in her tracks, finding the man exactly as she had remembered— except this time, he had two irises in each eye.
“It’s you,” she whispered.
Ichigo had marked their last encounter as a bizarre dream she never hoped to have again, but after what Aizen had revealed about the Soul King, it was impossible to turn a blind eye to this man’s plight.
She slowly sat down across from him, torn between caution and curiosity.
“Are you really him?” She blurted.
Compared to the mutilated body that she saw in the Royal Realm, the man in front of her was obviously still whole, appearing no different than the dignified nobles of Seireitei.
“I am merely a fragment of his memory, anchored here by our shared power,” he answered politely.
“What about the seal?” She asked. “Isn’t it keeping you trapped in the Royal Realm?”
“My consciousness has long since faded from my body, and what remains in the seal is nothing more than a husk— a vessel to maintain the balance of the universe.”
She grimaced, feeling horrified by the bare truth.
“I saw your memories,” she said stiffly. “Why did you let them do it? The Shinigami— Ichibē— they all—”
Ichigo clenched her jaw, unable to finish her sentence as she lowered her head in shame.
They killed you.
“I saw a future that was better off because of it,” he replied. “There would only be a small price to pay for my freedom.”
“Freedom?” She repeated incredulously. “They desecrated your corpse, scattered your body parts over the face of the earth, and placed you in a gilded cage!”
“I know of their sins,” he said calmly. “When the time comes, the Shinigami will pay for their transgressions.”
Ichigo paused, feeling a chill roll down her spine as suddenly saw him for who he truly was— a god dwelling amongst men.
She regarded him with wary eyes. “Are you… aware of your body parts?”
“To a certain degree.”
Ichigo perked, a fleeting sense of hope rising in her chest. “Then you must know what happened to Mimihagi recently— its power is fading.”
“Quite the contrary,” he corrected. “The divine power of stagnation has never been stronger.”
Ichigo frowned, confused by his answer.
“How can that be?” She demanded, fighting the urge to shake him. “Ukitake is dying!”
“I’m aware,” he said evenly.
Before Ichigo could protest, the man raised his right hand and extended it towards her, and she nearly jumped back in surprise, reluctant to touch him after what had happened last time.
“Don’t be afraid,” he said gently. “It belongs to you.”
Ichigo glanced down to see a pool of shadow sitting within his palm, and she froze, recognising what was in his hand.
“What the hell is that?” She asked, feeling a sudden sense of foreboding.
“The universe is beginning to correct itself, and the divine energy that stems from the collective will is now consolidating around you.”
The memory of Ichibē’s intended betrayal flickered across the forefront of her mind, and Ichigo reeled back as if she had been stung.
“I don’t want it,” she said hurriedly, pushing his hand away. “I’m not interested in any of it!”
“It’s too late,” he said curtly. “You have already been acknowledged by Irazusandō.”
Ichigo blinked, recalling the long cobblestone path of visions and memories. “You mean the training that I did at Ichibē’s temple?”
“Irazusandō has existed long before Ichibē built the walls of his palace around it,” the man replied. “It is not a place of training, but of trial— to see if your soul can bear the weight of creation.”
A heavy silence fell between them as Ichigo tried to wrap her mind around the revelation.
“But, I-I’m not a god,” she said shakily.
“Neither am I,” he said. “We are simply scions of the collective will. I was not the first, and you will not be the last.”
Ichigo scowled, growing more frustrated. “What does that mean?”
“Souls are pure energy,” he explained. “When a large number of them die with a grievance in their heart, their collective will breeds divine power— a force that governs desires into existence.”
Ichigo paused, eyes widening at the sudden realisation. “…like the Hōgyoku?”
“A poor imitation of divinity, but an imitation nonetheless,” he agreed with a shallow nod. “Those who are born of the collective will can bestow an engraving of power by sharing a piece of their soul.”
“Which is how Yhwach gave his Sternritter schrifts,” she concluded.
“Correct.”
Ichigo frowned in hesitation. “Does that mean you’ve given people special powers?”
“Every member of the Zero Division has a fraction of my divinity,” the man answered. “It was I who gave Ichibē the ability to discern the true name of all things.”
“Then what happens to them if you die?” She asked curiously.
Ichigo hadn’t stuck around long enough after defeating Yhwach, but after helping to revive Ichibē through some miraculous power, she figured the rest of the Royal Guard would be alright.
“Their lives are tied to the palace, which is held together by the divine power of whoever is caged inside the seal— whether it’s my corpse, or my son’s.”
Ichigo froze at the mental image. She would have never imagined that Yhwach’s body could be used as the new linchpin, and a knot of revulsion settled in the pit of her stomach.
If it hadn’t been him— it would have been her.
“However, if a portion of that divinity were to accept a new host…”
He extended his right hand again, and Ichigo felt a sense of horror grip her body, finally realising what was in the palm of his hand.
“Why…?” She demanded, voice breaking with despair. “Why is Mimihagi here?”
The man didn’t waver, seemingly unmoved by her outburst. “Your soul has been marked Irazusandō. All the scattered remnants of divine power will eventually come to you— Mimihagi just happened to be the first.”
“Tell it to go back!” She yelled desperately. “I don’t need its power, but Ukitake does! The longer—”
“It’s too late,” he said again. “Its sentience has nearly faded into obscurity, and I can no longer contain it for you.”
Ichigo began to tremble. “What do you—”
Before she could finish, a tsunami of black reiatsu broke through the walls of her home, and a giant hand emerged from the darkness behind her, pinning her to the floor. Shadows began to seep into her skin, and her limbs swelled painfully in all directions, expanding and contracting at impossible angles as the spiritual energy in her body exploded out of control.
It felt as if she was being engulfed by the ocean, crushed under a weight so heavy that she couldn’t move an inch.
“You must subdue it,” he ordered, voice echoing in the distance. “If you allow it to absorb you, your soul will be destroyed.”
Ichigo gritted her teeth, straining against the shadows, but she remained frozen in perpetual agony, unable to advance or retreat. Memories rapidly flickered across the forefront of her mind— a dark, candlelit shrine, a thousand faces crying in desperation, and a stream of anguished voices.
“Mimihagi-sama, Mimihagi-sama—”
Ichigo clenched her hands as a wave of misery filled her heart. “I-I can’t—”
In the end, she would have to kill Ukitake to save herself.
“The divine hand of heaven— save our child—”
Her eyes welled with tears as she fought to keep conscious. “If I die… can Mimihagi be returned to Ukitake?”
A beat of silence lingered in the air before the man finally answered.
“It’s possible.”
Ichigo felt her lips twist into a bitter smile, knowing her decision was already made.
She had never belonged in the past.
Perhaps this was always her destiny.
As the last thread of her resistance broke, Ichigo closed her eyes, released all the tension in her body— and let go.
The shadows instantly turned to encircle her, as if welcoming her into its cold embrace, and she began to sink into an ocean of darkness.
“—taichō!”
Ichigo stirred slightly, but found her body unresponsive. Her senses dulled, and the pain that wrecked her body moments before disappeared like a fleeting dream.
Just as the last of her consciousness began to slip away— the pressure ceased.
“Kurosaki Ichigo!”
Her eyes shot open at the familiar voice and she took in a sharp breath, her body curling on instinct to protect what was left of her soul.
A large figure loomed above her, and Ichigo turned to see Aizen crouching over her on his hands and knees, blocking the torrent of black reiatsu with his own body.
“A-Aizen?” She cried in shock, eyes widening. “What—”
“How dare you,” he snarled.
He reached out to grab her face, fingers digging into her cheeks with a punishing grip as his expression turned furious.
“Are you so willing to sacrifice yourself?” He scolded, raising his voice in a true display of emotion.
Ichigo shook her head in defiance. “Ukitake will die if I take Mimihagi’s power!”
“He’s already on the brink of death,” he argued scathingly. “How will you guarantee he survives if you fail here?”
She hesitated. “I-I can’t, but—”
“Then you do it,” Aizen said firmly. “Otherwise—”
His face suddenly twisted with pain as the shadows converged at his back, wrapping around his body in an attempt to swallow him.
“Stop it!” She screamed frantically, reaching out to grab his shoulders. “Even with the Hōgyoku, your soul can’t bear the weight!”
He glared at her, clearly torn between a mixture of anger and pain. “Would you rather die?”
Ichigo clenched her teeth. “I was never supposed to be here in the first place! If I die, I can break our soul-tie and you’ll be able to merge with your other half!”
Something in Aizen’s face seemed to shift, like a mask slipping out of his control, and he leaned down, his forehead nearly touching hers.
“If you die, I’m going to destroy what’s left of this world, and every last person that you failed to protect will be burned to ashes with you. Wager with your life if you dare! ”
Ichigo felt her breath hitch as she stared at him in shock.
He was absolutely serious.
“Aizen, you—”
“Make no mistake, Kurosaki Ichigo,” he whispered, hand tightening around her face. “Your life isn’t yours to give away.”
His eyes darkened with madness.
“It’s mine.”
A deafening silence fell between them, and Ichigo froze in disbelief, unable to garner a response.
Suddenly, a sharp snap echoed in her ears, and Ichigo glanced down to see the Hōgyoku in Aizen’s sternum crack open, unable to bear the brunt of Mimihagi’s power.
He staggered with a pained hiss as the shadows began to consume his soul, and Ichigo instinctively reached out to grab him, eyes wide with panic.
“Aizen!”
Without thinking, she wrapped her arms around his waist and twisted their positions, pinning him beneath her as she hurriedly ripped away the darkness that clung to his body.
An eldritch screech pierced her ears as the shadows retreated, only to converge above her head, forming a giant black eye.
Ichigo panted with exhaustion, yet a fierce determination rose in her chest as she held Aizen at her side, a single thought reverberating in her head.
Not him.
She craned her neck, staring straight into Mimihagi’s eye.
“Sorry,” she muttered, shaking her head. “I can’t give you my life after all.”
A powerful surge of reiatsu rushed through her veins as Ichigo stretched out her arm, and Zangetsu materialised in her hand, brimming with golden light.
For a moment, it felt as if the world came to a standstill.
She could feel the steady beat of her own heart, and the thrum of power at her fingertips as she raised Zangetsu above her head, condensing all her remaining reiatsu to the edge of her blade.
Then she swung.
An arc of golden light blasted through the void of space, tearing through the darkness as if it were nothing more than an empty facade, and the remnants of Mimihagi’s eye burst into particles of reishi.
Ichigo collapsed onto her knees, completely drained of all energy as the world around her began to crumble away like a dying star.
A searing pain shot across her right eye, and she flinched, reaching up to clutch half of her face as the black sky split across the stratosphere like a curtain being drawn. The darkness receded into the horizon, revealing a striking sunset underneath, and Ichigo suddenly found herself transported to an unfamiliar world.
In every direction as far as she could see, was an eerily still ocean, reflecting the cloudless sky above her.
Rubbing the lingering discomfort from her eye, she glanced at her side, only to see that Aizen had disappeared without a trace, and a sense of panic gripped her heart as she reached out to empty air.
“You’ve done it.”
Ichigo spun around at the familiar voice and raised her head, staring straight into the golden eyes of the Soul King.
For a moment, she remained frozen in surprise, noting that he no longer had two irises in each eye, and Ichigo raised a trembling hand to her own face, realising what had happened without having to look in a mirror.
”It suits you,” he said in a gentle tone.
Ichigo dropped her arm, feeling numb with shock as she stared blankly into the distance. As much as she hoped that everything had been a terrible dream, she couldn’t deny the familiar current of Mimihagi’s power coursing through her veins.
She had killed Ukitake.
“Don’t despair,” he said calmly. “This was always his fate.”
He turned his wrist, as if conjuring something into existence, and a long red ribbon suddenly appeared in his outstretched hand.
“However, you can bestow him a new one.”
The man took her hand and gently placed the ribbon in her palm.
“This is the Primordial Sea,” he explained calmly. “It’s a divine boundary outside the confines of the Three Worlds. Here, there is no life or death.”
Ichigo froze, instantly recognising Ukitake’s spiritual energy from the ribbon, and her chest burned with emotion as she tightly clutched the tattered cloth.
“What do I do?” She asked hoarsely, voice laced with exhaustion.
Releasing her hand, the man took a small step back. “The power of stagnation is yours. Do with it what you will.”
Ichigo stilled, understanding the intent of his words, and she felt her lips curl with anger.
“Then why did you give it to me in the first place?” She demanded, reaching out to grab his arm. “Ukitake suffered for years —”
“He would have died together with me,” he answered. “Have you forgotten that reality?”
Ichigo faltered, taken aback by the memory of Ukitake’s sacrifice, and she gripped his wrist tighter. “Are you… planning to die?”
He regarded her with one final look before his body began to glow, gradually dispersing into starlight.
“My freedom will only be granted in death,” he revealed, voice unwavering. “A price you once paid for me—”
A small smile appeared on his face before he fully disappeared into the air.
“And one you must pay again.”
Jūshirō didn’t have many regrets in his life.
After being granted a second chance, he had decided to always live in the moment, practice gratitude, and accept that some things in life were simply out of his control.
When his disease began to relapse more and more, his thoughts of concern were not for himself, but the god who had saved him.
Having housed the Soul King’s right hand for most of his life, Jūshirō knew that something was terribly wrong, yet he remained powerless to help as his health continued to slip away.
Once he was admitted to the Fourth Division, confined to a respirator, all he could do was watch as Unohana’s expression became darker, as Shunsui grew restless, and the windows of his consciousness dwindled to bleary moments of awareness.
Then the world began to shake.
He felt the exact moment the last trace of Mimihagi’s power left him, and he choked painfully for air as Unohana came rushing into the room.
A pair of firm hands held his shoulders down as Kaidō spells sprang to life around him, filling his body with a rush of healing Kidō— but he knew it was futile.
Without Mimihagi holding his body together, it would only be a matter of time before the rest of his organs began to shut down.
Shunsui’s familiar reiatsu then burst into the room like a hurricane.
“Ukitake, I swear to god— if you die on me—”
Straining to retain the last of his consciousness, he reached out to grab Shunsui’s hand as firmly as he could while shaking his head.
Let me go.
“No!” Shunsui cried. “Not like this—”
Jūshirō coughed, taking one last agonising breath before his consciousness slipped away, falling into darkness.
There was a beat of stillness as his soul sank into oblivion, and he felt a hint of regret mar his final thoughts, knowing that he was dying in such a helpless manner.
Just as he began to lose his last remaining awareness, there was a tug behind his sternum, as if he was being pulled up on a string, and a powerful force suddenly dragged him from the depths of nihility.
He broke through the surface with a gasp, hand clutching his chest as if bracing for the searing pain of his next breath— yet nothing came.
Instead, he found himself staring up at a pristine sky, a gradient of yellow and purple hues that was softened by the descending sun.
He quickly sat up, surprised to see that he was lying in ankle deep water, which seemed to stretch endlessly into the empty horizon. The sunlight glittered on the water’s surface like diamonds, and a fleeting sense of recognition passed through his mind.
This was the place where Mimihagi had once saved him, except this time, the right hand of the Soul King was nowhere to be found.
In its place stood a familiar figure, with their back turned towards him, and Jūshirō blinked in shock, recognising the familiar slope of her shoulders and distinct orange hair.
He rose to his feet and took a hesitant step forward. “…Ichigo?”
She turned slowly, and Jūshirō felt his greeting die in his throat as he locked eyes with her from across the water.
If the eyes were the window to the soul, Ichigo had always appeared steady, her warm brown eyes reflecting the fierce loyalty and strength that marked his impression of her from the day they first met.
The person standing in front of him certainly looked like Ichigo, but seemed entirely alien— a sense he had felt only once before, from the god who had saved him.
The twin irises in her eyes, glimmering with a kaleidoscope of colors, was enough of a sign that things had changed far beyond his imagination.
Ichigo exhaled heavily as her face twisted with grief. “Ukitake-taichō…”
Before he could respond, she bowed her head and promptly broke down into tears.
“I— I’m so sorry,” she cried, voice shaking with sobs. “All of this— it’s my fault—”
Jūshirō hurriedly reached out to grab her shoulders, panicked by her sudden outburst.
“It’s okay,” he said softly. “Whatever happened, you don’t need to blame yourself— I know it wasn’t your fault—”
“Yes it was,” she said insistently, crying bitterly. “I should have never been here. This whole time, I was just slowly killing you—”
“Ichigo,” he said sternly. “My life was always fated to be short, and my illness is no fault of yours.”
She bit down on her lip and scowled. “You should have lived! Mimihagi would have never left you, had I not taken its power.”
Having his suspicions confirmed, Jūshirō sighed quietly and squeezed Ichigo’s shoulders in a reassuring grip.
“You must have needed it more than I did,” he said, reaching up to gently wipe her tears. “So please, don’t cry.”
Ichigo let out a choked sob and shook her head. “I’m sorry— I... I didn’t mean to, but I—”
“Didn’t have a choice?” He finished, raising his brows.
Knowing Ichigo’s character, he was fairly certain that she had been just as clueless as the rest of them, and wouldn’t have resorted to this outcome had there been another way.
“What happened to you?” he asked, shooting her an encouraging smile. “I assume this is connected to the future that you’re from.”
He normally refused to hear about the future, but seeing his death draw near, Jūshirō now hoped he could shoulder even a fraction of Ichigo’s burden before he passed.
Taking a deep breath, she quickly wiped her face. “I was marked by Irazusandō— whether I want it or not, the scattered parts of the Soul King’s power will eventually find their way to me.”
He frowned slightly, trying to take in the new information. “Irazusandō?”
“It’s a hidden dimension inside the Royal Palace,” she explained quietly. “I was trained there with the hopes of replacing the Soul King.”
A beat of silence fell between them as he blinked in disbelief, realising what that meant for Ichigo’s past.
Only a handful of Shinigami knew the truth about Soul Society’s creation, and being the bearer of the right hand, Jūshirō had more glimpses into Seireitei’s ugly history than most.
“How could they…” he muttered, aghast at the mere thought. “You were just a human then— a child!”
Ichigo lowered her gaze as a flicker of sadness passed her eyes. “The war had taken a significant toll on us, so I agreed to go with the Zero Division.”
Jūshirō grimaced, feeling a pang of regret in his heart. “Be honest, Ichigo— was I dead at this point? Or did I truly do nothing to stop you?”
“You couldn’t have known!” She said hurriedly, waving her hands. “I didn’t even know until recently—”
“You’re wrong,” he said dejectedly. “I’ve seen the true nature of the Soul King— I know he is nothing more than a prisoner of the Three Worlds.”
Ichigo began to stammer. “E-Even so! I could never blame you for something like that! I was willing to go, regardless of the reason!”
Jūshirō bowed his head. “It seems that I am the one who owes you an apology. To think there was a future where I had stood passive at the possibility of you being made into a corpse—”
“No!” She yelled desperately, reaching out to grab his hands with wide eyes. “How could you say that about yourself?! That future hasn’t even come to pass—”
“Yet those consequences have followed you here all the same,” he said sadly.
She faltered, clearly unable to refute him.
“I’m sorry, Ichigo,” he said sincerely, feeling a bitter smile on his lips. “Fate has dealt you a cruel hand, and I can only offer you empty words of comfort before I die.”
She squeezed his arm as a glint of determination suddenly flickered across her face, and she raised her head.
“No,” she murmured. “Not if I can help it.”
She reached up, fingers hovering under the curve of her brow bone, and before he could stop her, Ichigo gouged out her right eye without hesitation.
Jūshirō felt his heart stop in horror. “Ichigo!”
Blood spilled down her cheek as she lifted her hand, offering the eye to him.
“Take it,” she said calmly. “I can’t heal your body, but I can give you a new one.”
Jūshirō froze in disbelief, not daring to take what was in her hand. “…A new one?”
“If you consume a part of my body, my divine power can restructure every cell down to your bones,” she explained. “With this, I can tie your life to mine and revive you even in death.”
The true implication of her words dawned on him, and Jūshirō breathed heavily. “I can’t possibly accept something like this.”
“Please,” she said earnestly, further extending her hand. “It’s the only way I can save you.”
He hesitated, torn with a mixture of emotions. “Ichigo…”
“Although Mimihagi is gone, I was able to seal its power into this eye,” she revealed. “It's only right that I return it to you.”
Jūshirō sighed, feeling his chest ache with a sense of loss. Had the Soul King’s right hand never gained its own sentience, he would have died in that shrine while his parents prayed to an unfeeling god.
Now here he was, offered a third chance at life in a surreal twist of fate.
He reached out to grab Ichigo’s hand, holding it as gently as he could as he stared into her lone eye.
“Will you promise me something?”
She tilted her head, as if awaiting his offer.
Jūshirō smiled gently. “Don’t ever give up your life for the sake of this world.”
Ichigo blinked, her face flickering with surprise. “I- I only—”
”If I take this power, I’m going to use every bit of it to protect you,” he said firmly. “Regardless of what the future holds, or what the consequences may be.”
Her left eye widened. “N-No— if something happens to me—”
“You’ll have to forgive my insolence then,” he interjected smoothly, “because I won’t let you walk this path alone.”
She hesitated, clearly torn by his ultimatum, but Jūshirō knew Ichigo’s character too well by now— if she refused to consider her own well being, he would simply have to do it for her.
Her lips quivered into a reluctant frown as she lowered her head in defeat.
“…I promise.”
Jūshirō smiled, knowing that he was in no position to demand anything of her, yet she had granted him mercy just the same.
“Thank you, Ichigo.”
She slowly uncurled her fingers as her right eye began dissolving into reishi, allowing it to spill into his cupped hands like a dewdrop of liquid gold.
A fleeting sense of déjà vu crossed his mind as he brought his hands up to his lips, and he glanced at Ichigo, providing her with one last nod of reassurance.
Taking a deep breath, he tipped his head back and swallowed the divinity of her right eye, allowing a rush of golden light to fill his body. The world tilted on its axis as the infinite void of the galaxy reflected in his eyes—
Then everything went white.
As the chaos of the night began to simmer into a quiet tension, Ichigo sat dumbfounded in her ruined bedroom as the sun rose over the horizon, unable to believe how much the real world had been affected by her contention with the Soul King.
Sōsuke was kneeling beside her, seemingly frozen in a state of shock.
She quickly glanced around at the scattered mess of furniture strewn across the floor, only to clutch her head, disorientated by her shortened range of vision. There was a dull ache where her right eye used to be, and Ichigo pressed her palm against the hollow juncture, trying to stem the bleeding.
Sensing movement in her blind spot, she turned to see Sōsuke tear the hem of his shihakushō as he shifted close to her. Wordlessly, he pulled her hand away and began to wrap the right side of her face with a makeshift bandage.
“Tell me, Kurosaki-taichō,” he said quietly, finally breaking the silence.
His expression flickered with barely concealed fury as he leaned in and leveled his gaze on her.
“Who did this to you?”
Ichigo pulled back, surprised by the venom in his tone, and she wondered just how much of her struggle he had witnessed in the real world.
With every year that passed, it was obvious how intelligent the boy was growing up to be, and Ichigo had no doubt that any knowledge regarding the Soul King’s origins could send him spiraling down the path of his future self.
Yet, Aizen had discovered the truth in a timeline without her— unless she controlled his every move, it was impossible to stop Sōsuke from eventually doing the same.
In these moments, Ichigo wondered if anything she did truly mattered at all.
“It was a self-inflicted accident,” she said at last, trying to keep her voice even. “I’m sorry if I frightened you.”
His face hardened at her obvious refusal to divulge any details.
“An accident? ” He said through gritted teeth. “You nearly died.”
She sighed and pressed her lips into a firm line. “I know. It won’t happen again.”
Ichigo didn’t know how or when the remaining parts of the Soul King’s power would come to find her, but she refused to be caught off guard for the second time.
Ukitake’s life was now tied to hers— she had no choice but to survive.
Sōsuke narrowed his eyes with displeasure. “You don't trust me?”
”It’s not that I don’t trust you,” she said honestly, shaking her head. “I promise, once I figure things out… I’ll tell you the truth.”
A flash of disappointment crossed his face as he clenched his jaw.
“I understand,” he said stiffly. “In your eyes, I must still look like an unreliable child.”
She frowned. “That’s not—”
Sōsuke rose to his feet, and Ichigo stilled as he stepped closer, hand hovering over the bandaged side of her face before his fingers tangled through her hair.
“You know that I’ll always respect your decisions,” he said with a low voice. “But remember, Kurosaki-taichō—”
He leaned down, eyes alight with fervor as he lifted her chin, forcing her to look up at him.
“I won’t be a boy forever.”
A heavy silence fell between them as Ichigo met his gaze, finding his face suddenly too close for comfort.
Although he wasn’t yet at his full height, his features were slowly starting to mature into the likeness of his older self— a stark reminder of the time passed.
Before she could respond, Sōsuke slipped his hand through the ends of her hair, turned on his heel, and promptly left without another word, walking out of the wrecked doors of her bedroom.
The tension disappeared with him, and Ichigo sagged tiredly against the wall behind her, simultaneously stunned and flabbergasted by his unusual behavior.
Yet she understood his unspoken sentiments.
Sooner or later, he was bound to discover the truth of the world, and Ichigo knew that some lessons in life simply couldn’t be taught without experience. Should Sōsuke decide to leave Soul Society in pursuit of his own ambitions, there was unlikely anything she could say to convince him otherwise.
Aizen had been her enemy once, and it had taken them two wars, a prison sentence, an irreversible incident, and decades of being stuck together to finally come to an understanding.
The thought of his older self suddenly jolted something within her, and Ichigo felt her entire body stiffen, recalling what had happened during her bout with Mimihagi.
Without another moment to spare, she focused her mind and sank into her Inner World, spurned by the fear of what she would find.
Ichigo awoke to the sight of utter destruction, as if a tsunami had passed through the world. The wrecked skyscrapers were submerged in an endless ocean, and a layer of debris floated along the surface.
She glanced around with trepidation, unable to sense anyone nearby.
“Aizen?” She called, raising her voice.
Just as she was about to summon the thread that connected them, Ichigo noticed a dark shape lying in the depths of the water, and she neared the edge with wide eyes, immediately recognising the silhouette.
It was him.
She dived in without hesitation, shocked by the icy cold water as she swam to his side. It should have been impossible for him to drown in her Inner World, yet even as she shook him, he continued to sink through her grasp.
Hooking her arms under his shoulders, Ichigo hurriedly swam towards the surface and climbed onto a nearby wreckage before pulling Aizen from the water.
He slumped lifelessly onto his side, and Ichigo gasped, finally seeing the extent of his injuries.
His entire body looked like broken glass, his skin gray and transparent as deep cracks ran across his limbs— the damage far worse than what he had sustained from the Tenshintai incident.
She rolled him onto his back and pulled his robe open, finding the shattered remains of the Hōgyoku in his sternum, its light nearly gone.
Ichigo felt her breath hitch with panic as she gently tapped his face. “A-Aizen!”
Her stomach churned with dread as he remained unresponsive, completely cold to her touch.
A sharp blade suddenly pressed against the side of her neck, and Ichigo froze, recognising the zanpakutō with a single glance.
She slowly turned, glancing over her shoulder to see who was standing behind her.
“Zangetsu,” she muttered, eye wide with shock. “What the hell are you doing?”
His expression tightened into a frigid glare.
“That’s my line, Ichigo,” he snarled, curling his lip. “I told you before, that if you ever gave up in a fight— if you ever weakened and lost your instincts— that I would kill you and take the crown for myself.”
She clenched her hands and scowled in response. “I didn’t have a choice.”
“Yes, you did,” he rebuked, digging the sword deeper into her skin. “Was saving yourself not an option?”
Her lips trembled with emotion. “Is that such an easy decision to make!?”
“It is for me!” Zangetsu yelled, reaching out to grab a fistful of her robes as he shook her. “You were always the most important choice! So tell me— when are you going to prioritise your own life like I do?”
Ichigo faltered, feeling her defense crumble.
Zangetsu retracted his sword and pointed it towards the water. “Look at this world! You were seconds away from losing it all!”
She lowered her gaze, knowing she didn’t have to look around. Beyond the ruined skyscrapers, the ultimate consequence of her decision lay unmoving at her feet.
“I know,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”
“Are you?” He said scathingly. “Or would it kill you to think about saving yourself for once?”
Ichigo remained quiet, knowing there was nothing she could say.
The night Masaki died, she had cried to every deity she knew, begging for them to take her life instead, unable to live with the guilt.
Lying half-dead in the rain after losing Rukia, she had wondered—
What was her life worth, if she couldn’t even use it to protect someone else?
“Don’t you ever try to sacrifice yourself again,” Zangetsu said darkly. “The next time you can’t finish a fight— I will.”
Ichigo nodded solemnly, knowing that such a notion wasn’t a suggestion, but a threat.
“I won’t,” she muttered.
Zangetsu huffed sharply, then glanced down at Aizen as he released her collar. “You’re lucky he was here.”
Ichigo sagged onto the ground without a response, feeling her chest grow numb as she stared at Aizen’s still face.
Even when his soul was fading, or in the face of defeat, he had never looked as vulnerable as he did now.
“Lucky?” She repeated shakily, grabbing his arm in a white-knuckle grip.
In her eyes, Aizen had always been an infallible presence, both as an enemy and an ally. There was no possible scenario that could have taken his life for good, especially after merging with the Hōgyoku.
The reality of losing him suddenly weighed on her mind, and she breathed heavily, feeling her eyes prickle with tears.
It was like a dam of emotions had burst open, and Ichigo was flooded with memories of their every interaction— the infuriatingly smug curve of his lips, the cool cadence of his voice, and his light brown eyes, which always seemed to hide a multitude of schemes—
She was about to lose it all.
Clouds gathered in the sky as thunder rolled in the distance, and she craned her neck as the first drops of rain began to fall.
“Zangetsu,” she called weakly, feeling her throat tighten with despair. “What do I do?”
He sighed quietly, and ran his hand through his hair in a frustrated gesture. “What can you do? You already gave away the only piece of divine power that you had.”
The rain began to pelt them in a sudden downpour, and Ichigo leaned over Aizen’s body as she pulled him closer, trying in vain to shield him from the storm.
Anchored by their soul-tie, she could still feel the pulse of his life force under her fingertips, yet no matter how hard she tugged, there was no reaction.
“There will be more,” she murmured, tightening her grip.
If the Hōgyoku was an imitation of divinity, there was a reason to believe that it could be remade whole by the same power.
A sharp gleam passed through Zangetsu’s eyes. “Will you be ready?”
Ichigo clenched her jaw as a burning resolve ignited in the pit of her stomach, and she pressed her forehead against Aizen’s, trying to impart the last of her warmth.
She had risked her life to save Rukia; had traversed the endless desert to rescue Orihime— if it meant protecting the one person who had irrevocably occupied her entire heart, she was willing to obtain any power necessary.
"I will,” she murmured, closing her eyes. "Whatever parts remain of the Soul King— I’m going to take it all.”
Urahara Kisuke was utterly fascinated by the rain.
He had never particularly cared for the natural workings of the universe, until he woke up to the Three Worlds on the precipice of destruction.
For what seemed like the longest hour of his life, Kisuke stared up at the sky with wide eyes, wondering if this is where it would all end.
Then the world regained balance and the sun finally broke over the horizon.
That was when the rain started to fall.
Shaking off the water from his cloak, Kisuke trotted down the secret passageway beneath the Fifth Division, and entered a large underground chamber, which was lit up by an artificial sky.
His gaze fell towards the back corner of the hall where a makeshift laboratory had been set up, and a familiar figure stood between two long tables, clearly focused on something in front of him.
“Aizen!” He called, waving his hand in greeting.
The teen barely glanced over his shoulder before returning his attention to his work.
Pouting, Kisuke approached the boy in a lazy flicker of shunpo, and glanced over his shoulder.
“What are you doing?”
Slumped over on one of the tables was a gigai, an unfamiliar model that Kisuke didn’t recognise, except its face had been cleanly removed, leaving a gaping hole in the doll’s structure.
Sōsuke didn’t even spare him another glance as he continued to dismantle the artificial body.
“Kurosaki-taichō lost her eye,” he said at last.
Kisuke blinked, taken aback by the sudden news. “She did?!— how?”
Whenever visiting the Fifth, he would normally make stops to see Ichigo, but with the recent chaos around Soul Society, he had been unsurprised to find her office empty.
“I don’t know,” Sōsuke muttered, clearly upset about the matter. “She won’t tell me.”
Kisuke frowned, deducing that something must have happened during the night all hell broke loose, yet he couldn’t think of a logical explanation.
“Then what are you doing?” He asked again.
Kisuke glanced at the table beside them, noticing a large beaker filled to the brim with eyeballs, which were floating in a liquid preservative.
“I’m going to make her a new one,” Sōsuke answered bluntly.
Kisuke approached the beaker and stared in disbelief, realising that the organs inside weren’t artificial prototypes— they were real eyeballs, undoubtedly taken from someone’s head.
“Where did you even get all these?” He asked, shooting the boy a wary look.
Sōsuke finally turned, lowering the tools in his hands as he leveled him with an inscrutable glare.
“Urahara,” he said coldly. “Don’t ask questions that you don’t want to know the answer to.”
Kisuke quickly backtracked, and raised his hands as a sign of surrender. While he might have enjoyed provoking the boy, there were lines that he wouldn’t cross as an aspiring researcher himself.
“Fair,” he agreed quickly.
Sōsuke huffed. “If you’re only here to bother me, go make yourself useful elsewhere.”
Kisuke pressed his hand over his heart, mocking his hurt. “Bother? I was going to ask if you wanted to run some experiments with me on the rain.”
A week had passed since the Three Worlds momentarily fell out of balance, and while it wasn’t strange to see rain at this time of year, the true mystery was the psychological effect it seemed to have on both Shinigami and civilians alike.
Those who stood in the rain often reported feeling an overwhelming sense of grief, as if they couldn’t control their own emotions.
“The rain?” Sōsuke raised his brows, unimpressed. “No.”
”Oh, come on!” He insisted, inching closer with wide eyes. “People are going crazy out there!”
”They’re going crazy because Soul Society nearly imploded only a few days ago,” Sōsuke replied blandly.
”Don’t tell me you haven’t tested it out for yourself,” he goaded. “You must have felt something while traveling under the rain recently!”
Sōsuke scowled. “I felt angry— upset— depressed.”
“Okaaay.” Kisuke nodded, surprised by his emotional forthcoming. “How ‘bout now?”
”I’m still angry, still upset, and still depressed.”
Kisuke opened his mouth, speechless, as Sōsuke turned his back and continued dismantling the gigai in his hands, clearly finished with their conversation.
Not to be deterred, he slid closer to the teen with a sly smile.
“If you help me run some experiments, I’ll let you in on a secret I overheard,” he said quietly.
”Not interested.”
Kisuke raised a brow. “Even if it might have to do with what happened last week?”
There was a beat of silence as Sōsuke paused, then slowly turned to stare at him from the corner of his eyes.
”Tell me first,” he demanded.
Kisuke clicked his tongue, having expected such a reaction. “Not until you agree to help me.”
A blast of Kidō suddenly shot from Sōsuke’s outstretched hand, and Kisuke yelped as he twisted to the side, barely dodging the streak of lightning.
”Okay, okay, sheesh!” He cried, clutching his hair. “I was only teasing!”
”Tell me now.”
Kisuke huffed, quickly straightening out his shihakushō. “Yoruichi and I were snooping— I mean, training— around the First Division, when we overheard a conversation between Shihōin-taichō and Yamamoto-sōtaichō—”
Sōsuke remained silent, waiting for him to continue.
He grinned, intentionally pausing for dramatic effect. “The Royal Guard is coming to Seireitei.”
Sōsuke narrowed his eyes. “That’s it?”
Kisuke pouted, genuinely surprised by his response. “What do you mean? Don’t you know how illustrious the Royal Guard is? Besides, if they’re on the move, it could mean that the loss of balance between the Three Worlds had nothing to do with the instability of souls, but with the Soul King himself.”
The teen quieted, his mind undoubtedly whirling with a myriad of thoughts, before his gaze refocused on the gigai in his hands. “Then why do you care so much about the rain?”
He shrugged, unbothered by the questioning. “There’s an old legend that says the skies will pour rain whenever the Soul King experiences great sorrow— don’t you find the current situation compelling?”
Kisuke knew that the teen had little to no concern for the matters of the nobility, much less the monarch that ruled over them, yet to his surprise, Sōsuke stopped moving, and his eyes hardened.
“Urahara.”
Kisuke nearly flinched, surprised by the sudden malice in his tone.
”W-What?” He stammered, taking a slow step back. “Why’re you so serious?”
Sōsuke tilted his head and stared unblinkingly at the beaker of eyeballs beside him. “What do you know about the Soul King?”
Kisuke frowned, realising that he didn’t have much concrete information about the most powerful being in the world. All Shinigami were taught that the Soul King maintained order and balance between the Three Worlds— a ruler to be revered but never seen.
Before he could answer, Sōsuke turned to face him, his eyes wide with a hint of unbridled madness, and Kisuke felt his entire body tense as a sudden chill rolled down his spine.
“Tell me everything you know.”
Notes:
"A hero will sacrifice you to save the world, but a villain will sacrifice the world to save you" — It almost perfectly describes the character dynamic between Ichigo and Aizen, except for Ichigo's case, she would sacrifice herself.
I really loved the extra content they added in the anime for Ukitake and Mimihagi in cour 3, so I decided to reuse some of that imagery! My idea behind the concept of divine power actually came from Nanao Ise's zanpakuto, and its abilities to reflect "the power of god". I think there's good reason to speculate the existence of a higher tier of power beyond spiritual energy. I hope they reveal more about the Soul King in cour 4, although I think I've taken the lore into a different dimension at this point.
And finally, the romance — the burn is so slow I almost forgot I was writing a pairing fic 😂 I truly didn't intend for this story to be very angsty, but now it's turned out like this (sorry haha). We'll get there eventually!
If there's any confusion about wtf happened in the chapter, hit me in the comments — I know I'm horrible at replying, but I'll do my best this time! 😆
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