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The Cycle of Reincarnation and Its Teachings.
The Founder of Ninshu and Soul Mysticism.
Life after Death and the Pure Land.
They were all… well they weren’t bad reads. They weren’t very informative, and they were a little dry at times, but Ichigo had honestly read worse back in high school while studying for exams. No, the real problem with them was that… they weren’t really what he was expecting. Or maybe hoping for would be more accurate. The first and third were probably the closest to what he remembered of Soul Society and the reincarnation of souls as explained to him by Rukia and her poorly drawn rabbits. But the finer details were all too distinctly different or vague for anything other than a coincidence of larger brushstrokes just happening to overlap in places.
Sure, Ichigo had only been reading for a couple of hours, and these were literally the first books he’d picked up, but he’d kind of wanted at least something to go off of. Some small reassurance that maybe… well he wasn’t exactly sure what.
If by some miracle he did find some mention of Soul Society and Shinigami (plural, thank you), or maybe even hollows, then what?
Thoughts Ichigo had tried not to entertain, questions and fears he’d tried to suppress suddenly came spilling forward across his mind like black paint on white carpet.
What exactly was his plan? Go back and tell all his friends that he wasn’t dead? (or kinda was, kinda wasn’t?) Tell them he has a new family that’s gonna expect him back in a few months and probably get pissed off that he disappeared from the Capitol of Hi no Kuni of all places? While his cousin was supposed to be watching him? And speaking of family, what about Yuzu and Karin? Sorry you thought I was dead, but now I’m younger than you-
“All rather interesting titles.” Ichigo’s internal spiral froze. A shiver ran up his spine.
That voice.
“I don’t think I’ve touched those books since my own first time in these halls.” Warm brown eyes weighed down on him from behind square lenses.
Ichigo burned cold under that playful gaze.
“Might you be the head librarian?” Shisui’s voice was edged with something bordering on accusatory. But Ichigo couldn’t turn to look at him, couldn’t tear his eyes away from the man in front of them. Tracing the polite smile stretched across the man’s lips.
“Forgive me for not introducing myself.” A perfect set of white teeth gleaming with every word spoken. “I am Heir Uchiha’s tutor-”
“Aizen Sosuke.” The name escaped Ichigo’s mouth at the same time, earning him a punch from Shisui under the table.
Aizen’s facade showed no cracks. Ichigo would never expect it. In every fractured memory where this man appeared, he seemed to be almost untouchable. Above it all.
“I am honored to be known to the noble Uchiha clan.” Ichigo’s fingers itched for Zangetsu now more than ever, his entire being on edge as Aizen’s smile grew just a fraction of an inch. “Under your watchful eyes is the safest place I can be.”
“Is that so?” Shisui’s polite grin shifted tight, sharpening at the edges as he planted one foot on top of the table, edging closer towards disaster. “Well, I can’t help but notice blood at the edge of your haori.”
It felt wrong to look away, even just for a moment, to stray too far from hands hiding in billowing white sleeves. Dangerous, Ichigo’s mind supplied. But Shisui was right, and not just the edges of Aizen’s haori were stained, but his hakama and waraji.
Aizen didn’t seem to mind though, tilting his head ever so slightly. “I’m a bit out of practice. Do forgive me.”
Terror built up in Ichigo’s throat, spilling out in a creaking, “Shisui-”
But it was too late.
Shisui’s tanto plunged through thin air. A cowering little girl crumpled on the ground, eyes wide with fear, and shrieked.
Aizen’s voice sounded behind them. “Attacking the thirdborn daughter of Lord Mitsuhide? Shinobi really do have no honor.”
In that moment, Ichigo couldn’t wait any longer, he had to act. The mask was there between one breath and the next. But it never did get the chance to stabilize.
Aizen’s reiatsu was like an ocean, and Ichigo could hardly keep his head above water. His vision swam as he staggered, beside him Shisui had fallen to his knees and choked on his own spit. Just as quickly as it came, that ocean receded.
“Now why would you make me do that, Uchiha-kun? That poor girl’s father will be beside himself when he finds out.” Mirth danced in his eyes.
Ichigo was never great at sensing spiritual pressure; it wasn’t a skill he’d really put effort into honing until this lifetime. But without needing to look back, he could tell what little presence the girl had vanished.
“Just stop it already!” Panic, anger, desperation, they all clawed out of his throat as he placed himself between Aizen and Shisui. Hoping that somehow, he could stop the sputtering flame of his cousin’s life from extinguishing if only by standing in front.
“And just who are you to tell me what to do?” Aizen’s gaze sharpened, and Ichigo knew there was only one answer.
“Kurosaki Ichigo.”
Ichigo’s eyes snapped open as he bolted awake, scattering loose pages and sending books tumbling to the floor. Shisui, the jerk, laughed at him, already crafting a joke at his expense.
But Ichigo tuned him out, eyes caught on a black winged butterfly perched atop a discarded book.